South Africa
Part 66

I guessed I should've known that Kyle had more tricks up his devious sleeve as we prepared to bed down for the night in his room.

"You wanna lay in my bed?" he asked just as I was about to collapse on the spare mattress. "Just for a little while?"

"Yeah, right. You never give up, do you."

"Neither do you in the pool or the ring. So what's the diff?"

After I’d laid down beside him, his hands wasted no time in exploring my chest and nipples. It was as though he couldn't believe what he was seeing and feeling, despite the fact that he'd seen me naked or semi-naked a million times before.

"I don't get it."

"Get what?"

"It's like you're seeing my chest for the first time."

"I dunno why it is… but everything about you fascinates me, no matter how many times I see you."

"If only Carol could see me now… laying on my back, with my hands behind my head, and your lecherous fingers exploring my pecs and nipples."

"Whaddaya mean lecherous? Does she do this kinda stuff?"

"Yeah. All the time."

"How does it make you feel?"


"And how does it make you feel when I do it?"

"Special… but different. I mean, you're a guy. You're not supposed to think my bod's sexy. Not that I mind. Hey, it's a fucking huge compliment. You're getting to my damn ego."

"How about I get to this instead?" he smiled as his fist enveloped my boner.

What could I say? Anyway, I'd been around long enough to know that there were situations in life when words were totally superfluous, and this was one of those times. So I just closed my eyes and wallowed in the exquisite pleasure Kyle's hand was not only giving my throbber, but also my whole being. And when I felt the first, electric thrill of my exploding cum, I began to make absurd noises that would have been exceedingly embarrassing in public… or even in the company of one stranger. But Kyle was no stranger. And it seemed to me that nothing I could've done in his company would be embarrassing, either to me or to him.

After I'd emptied my balls of every last drop of my juice, I watched my bud grab a tissue from his bedside drawer, then clean my stomach and chest. Even that little gesture was testimony of his love for me. And there was no possible way I could have interpreted his action otherwise.

For a while, we just laid side by side, thinking our own private thoughts. I didn't know what he was thinking, but I was still trying to grapple with the idea of how comfortable I felt in his company… as if I could do no wrong… as if everything about me was totally acceptable to him, warts and all. How could this be? How could another person, especially a guy, be in absolute awe of me? And not just in awe of my physical presence, but also of me… Mark, the person inside... the mind, the soul? How could this be?

Eventually, I slipped off his bed, and stretched out on the spare mattress. "You're different, Kyle. I think you're an alien."

"Yeah… from Mars."

"For sure." But in spite of my remark, I knew he wasn't an alien. He was a human being just like me, but with qualities that were so damn rare. Maybe unique. Yeah. Kyle had to be unique. There was no way nature could've created two of that dude.

"Night, bud. And thanks."

"Night, Mark."

The other weird thing about this whole situation with Kyle was that he wasn't competing with Carol. It wasn't as though he was gonna take her place or anything like that. He'd staked a claim on a separate place, a separate part of me, one that I'd never anticipated… as though he'd found an aspect of me that I never knew existed, but that he had somehow recognized… like some kinda intuitive thing.



"Do you think you know yourself pretty well?"

"I think so. Not sure. Why?"

"Nothing. I was just wondering if any of us knows ourselves at all."

"Why do you say that?"

"'Cause, before you came along, I figured I knew myself pretty well… and now I'm discovering that I don't... not really."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Nope. It's not a bad thing. Night, bud."


The pressures of my final year of high school were becoming more, and more intense. We were being given 'mock' exams as a trial run for the biggies at the end of the year, which was approaching too damn fast. So when the phone rang as I was in the middle of studying in my room, I wasn't all that impressed.

"I'm busy studying."

"Can I come over and watch?"

"You're totally weird, Kyle. Maybe you'd better take a cold shower."

"I just wanna watch your wrist muscles pop while you're writing."

"Come and see the muscles of my fist as it connects with your jaw."

Jumbo, the huge, black guy on the swim team, had recently shown an interest in boxing. I'd sparred with him a few times in the mornings before school, and I had to admit that that monster was more than a fucking handful, or gloveful. If it weren't for my agility, I'd have been flat on my ass more than once. Ducking and weaving was my only defence. And even when I did manage to hit him, it was like hitting a slab of fucking iron... and about as useful.

On Thursday morning, it was raining cats and dogs, and the wind was howling like crazy. But that didn't stop Jumbo and me from trying to punch the shit outa each other in the ring. Later, in the showers, we were talking about the latest bomb blast in Cape Town. It was the sixth bomb this year, and everbody was wondering how long it would take before the fanatics started targeting the suburbs. Scary stuff.

Kyle, though, had other things on his mind when he began to rub Jumbo's massive shoulders. "You look like a wreck after your session with Mark."

"He's too damn fast. I could flatten him easy if I could just catch the fucker. And my body's hurting where I didn't even know I had body."

"Hey, Jumbo," I grinned. "Ask Kyle to give you a full rubdown."

"Would you?" the black giant asked as he faced my bud.

"Uh… yeah, sure… if you blow me afterwards."

Jumbo cracked as he eyeballed Kyle's limp semi. "That tiny thing would get lost."

"Har-de-fucking-har. And the rest of you guys can shuddup, too!"

Well, my bud's magic fingers were obviously doing a damn fine job 'cause Jumbo almost dozed off while Kyle's soothing hands manipulated the big guy's sore muscles. Jumbo wasn't part of our social group outa school, but he and Kyle had always been pretty cool buddies on the swim team, and had always gotten along well, to the point where they could diss each other without any offence being taken.

Jumbo had had the same girlfriend for three years now… a white girl… and that particular pairing caused quite a bit of controversy in the early days. But now, it was as normal as any other relationship 'cause everybody at school had gotten used to the idea of seeing Jumbo and his girl together. I guessed the other reason nobody was all that keen to comment on the relationship was 'cause Jumbo had earlier broken a dude's ribs when the dude was stupid enough to call the girl a 'nigger lover'.

Generally speaking, there wasn't a great deal of racism at school. We all got along pretty well together despite small pockets of resistance and antagonism. But I'd also noticed that it was quite normal and acceptable to see whites mixing with whites, and blacks mixing with blacks, not because of racism, but simply because it was natural for likeminded people to associate with each other. Birds of a feather, as they say.

"Hey, darkie?" Kyle asked as he massaged the sleeping giant. "What are you thinking about?"

"I'm thinking about making you my slave," he mumbled, "then you can massage me every fucking day. You should become a physio, Kyle. You got damn good hands."

"Wanna roll over and find out how good?"


"Fuck off! I'm only kidding!"

"So am I," the big guy chuckled.

Jumbo had one of those deep, African voices that seemed to resonate from the gut, and the whitest set of pearlies you'd ever see on anybody, plus a cock that would frighten an elephant. As for me, I could only look on, smile, and shake my head at the antics of my crazy, spiky-haired bud.

Later in the day, Kyle and I were were sitting together in the grounds, eating our lunches.

"Avo [avocado] and tomato sarmies?" he asked, while rudely investigating the contents of my lunch box as though he hadn't eaten for a week.

"Yeah… so?"

"So you get up an hour earlier just to make your sarmies?"



I had to laugh. "Fuck, Kyle! What the fuck are you on about?"

"Why don’t you just make regular cheese sarmies or something?"

"Here," I said as I offered him a bite of my sandwich. "Have a fucking zonk… and shut the fuck up!"

"Cool… thanks," he grinned, then sank his greedy choppers into my sarmie.

The cheeky fucker had known all along that I couldn't eat my avo and tomato sandwiches in front of him, while he was munching on a boring canteen pie. Actually, my bite of his pie in exchange for his bite of my sarmie took most of the pie outa his hand. And I couldn't help laughing at the look of total devestation on his face when he saw what little remained of his lunch.


"Oh, well," he mused. "Anyway, you should sell your damn sarmies. They're fucking delish! Avo, tomato, lettuce, salt and pepper. And was there a dash of Tabasco in there? Fucking awesome. You must've been feeling pretty good this morning before school. Normally, you only bring juice or something."

"Yeah, I was feeling pretty amped."


"I dunno. Maybe it's got something to do with... you."

"Me? Why?"

"Jeez, Kyle!"

"Hey, gimme a break. I'm just curious… that's all."

"The other night… you and me at Wipe Out… the long chat… it was cool."


"And what? You already know about 'and what'."

"Yeah, I know, but it'd be cool to hear you say it."

"Kyle, you're like some fucking highly infectious disease. I wake up in the morning, and suddenly I've got a fucking terminal case of Kylitis. You're dangerous, bro. Fucking dangerous. And, on top of that, you stole my damn sarmie."

"What about my pie? Anyway, you offered it to me."

"Hey, I remember the way Sox used to look at you when she wanted something. Did she teach you, or did you teach her?"

"So what about the other night?"

"It was cool… correction, it was awesome. But I'm still trying to figure it out. DON'T INTERRUPT! It's OK for you... you're an alien. But I'm only human. What the fuck are you doing to me?"

"Making you happy, I hope."

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 Mark Part 67