South Africa
Part 20

Yep, reading this account of Steve's struggle is pretty tough going. Steve certainly wasn't the easiest person to like during this part of his saga; due mainly to his own self-loathing and depression - trying to convince me in particular that he wasn't worth a pinch of shit. But, despite Steve's attempts to discredit himself in my eyes, I had faith in Code's original judgement. I was mindful of how Steve came to my aid after I'd received news of Cody's death. He busied himself creating graphics for me, and sharing my grief. I don't think I could have handled Code's death without Steve's help. Like Mr T said, "Cody used to pick his friends well, Steve, so he must've seen something there outside of the crap you're on. We [my wife and I] would like to see some of that, and we'd like you to come and visit sometimes." I must tell you that there is a light at the end of this very dark tunnel, readers. Do me a fav, and persist with this story. You'll be rewarded, just as I have been. MrB

When I got home from seeing Mr T in the surf, I took a look at my room. Ugh. It was a fucking mess! Just like my head. Boxers, briefs and other clothing strewn all over, stinking the place up. A leftover end of a joint in the ashtray from at least a week ago. Bleh! I threw all the stuff in the laundry hamper, then tidied the bed before laying on top of it. I must've slept for most of the day, then woke up about 5 or so. I was feeling so weak.

Went for a swim in the pool to try to wake up a bit more. No, Gary, I'm not Cody. I wear Speedos when I swim unless there's a situation where I want to show off or whatever.

"I'm here."

"Shuddup, Gary."

Anyway, I swam as strongly as I could, and felt physically hammered when I left the water. Phoned Bruce, but the phone rang for fucking ever before he finally picked it up. Either he was being screwed or was screwing someone because his breathing was like that heavy and out of breath, and still steaming along.

"Hey, is he cool?" I asked.

"Can't speak now."

Hahahahaha! He was breathing so hard that he couldn't even speak properly. Sounded like he had fucking asthma. "I'm not going to put this phone down until you tell me."

"Shhhhhh! He's HOT! Aaaggghhh!"

The phone went quiet for about two minutes while I listened to Bruce blowing his fucking load. Fucking hell! My cock was so tight by the time he came back to the phone, all out of breath, that I was itching for some action.

"That was the fuckest timing I have ever fucking known, Steve," he complained. "You've got absolutely no fucking sense of what's right or wrong!"

"Was it good?"


"I've got a honey here for you," I said as I stroked my erection. "And it's stretched to its limit. What are you doing tonight?"

"I can't, Steve. Fuck, can't you keep that thing hard for me?"

"Come now."

"I've got a drop to sort out. Only be back home about 3 in the morning."

"What? Coke?"

"E at [deleted]."

I had been continuing to stroke my hardon, and it was all slimed up with precum, and making beautiful sloshing noises. "Hey, listen up." I held the mouthpiece of the phone as close as I could to my cock, and let him hear the noise of my foreskin moving up and down my cum-soaked cockhead.


"Hahahaha! Forget the drop [tonight] and come here."

"Jeez! You wouldn't have to ask me twice!"

"Stay out of this, Gary."


"Nothing, Bruce."

"Whatever. Anyway, you're a cruel boy, Steve. I'll phone you tomorrow maybe."

"Yeah, yeah. Hey, I also need some weed."

"I'll swap you for what you've got [the crack in the closet]."

"Not yet. I'm not ready yet."

Bruce never fucking phones when he says he will. I was so fucking horny by then, I jacked, then dozed off. I slept off and on through most of the night. Only had one nightmare, and I was worried that it would return, but no, I just went right back to sleep.

When I woke up, I went to the kitchen. My mom was there, making some breakfast for my dad. I gave her a hug, and she looked at me like I was fucking crazy. Who me? Told her that the hug was for making some breakfast for me as well, so she did. Bacon, eggs, tomato, and mushrooms. :)

I sat on the patio overlooking the pool, and ate. I was still in my boxers, so my dad gave me the normal fuckwit hairy eyeball, but I just ignored him. He also ignored me, which was cool [with me].

Back in my room, I looked in the mirror. I was like a survivor from a concentration camp. I'd lost so much weight, and I had bruises all fucking over. My face was a wreck, and there was a massive bruise on the front of my ribs. I didn't have a fucking clue where that came from. I noticed scratches across my back. Didn't know where they came from either. There was also a bruise on one of my ass cheeks, and NO I didn't know how I got so fucking damaged. It was the first time that I was actually seeing how badly fucked up I was. It's no surprise that everyone was giving me a wide berth.

Popped some Bs and Cs. Tried to stuff around in the gym, but I needed some motivation to be in there, and I didn't need my dad walking in there, and thinking that I was putting in some effort. Fuck him. He could think what he liked.

Phoned Fingers. Actually, I phoned Mark, but he was out, and Fingers picked up the phone. He couldn't speak for too long cos his girlfriend was around hahahahaha! But he managed to whisper that he's madly in love with me, and asked me when I was coming to Joburg again, blah, blah, blah. He really is so damn cool, though. Actually got an erection talking to him because I could picture his giant smooth muscle. :)

Phoned Steph. "Don't put the phone down! I'm just phoning to say hi." Then I heard a voice in the background. "Who's there?"


"What? Like just visiting or something?"

"Long story, Steve, and I don't want to get into that with you right now."

"Hahahaha! You and him going together or something?"

"It's got fuckall to do with you, Steve."

"Chill, babes. Does he know you're talking to me?"

"I'm sure he does," she giggled.

"So, what's so funny, Steph?"

"It's nothing. Look, I've got to go."

"Hey, can I call you again sometime? It [my situation] is getting better."

"So I hear."

"Do you believe everything he's telling you about me?"

"That you beat up a kid on the beach half your size? Who's gonna believe that?"

"Did he tell you the whole fucking story?"


Then she put the phone down on me. Phoned Bruce to ask him where my fucking stash was. He could tell by my abrupt manner that I wasn't in the mood to be pissed off. I had to meet him outside, and give him the money for it. He knew I had no fucking money. I borrowed some out of my dad's wallet. I'll put the fucking stuff back when I get some cash, so don't stress it, OK, Gary?

It was good stuff, too. Rolled a big one, then sat outside by the pool and smoked it. Made me totally spin because it had been a while [since my last joint].

Wingnut and Steph? There's a fucking combo made in hell. So why was I so fucking jealous all of a sudden? Jealous of Wingnut for getting the girl, and jealous of Steph for being able to get close to the fucking hunk lightie. He was probably fucking her lights out.

Hey, Code? What do you think of that? Huh? Can you see the fucking smoke coming out of my ears? Yeah, well fuck you! Maybe I should intro Wingnut to Bruce, and get him into some bondage, then fuck him while he's all tied up. I can see that tight pink hole of his right now, dripping with my cum running out of it after I've fucked his fucking lights out. THE LITTLE FUCKING CUNT!

Do I sound fucking mad, Gary? Because I fucking try and make things right, and I've got this fucking little gnome who's going out of his fucking way to make sure I get screwed with every step I take. I can picture him and Steph talking the biggest load of shit about me, and having their fucking jollies about it.

So where did all this shit start? It can't be just cos of that one fucking time he was trashed. No fucking way. It's not like I fucking raped him. Has he had this thing for me ever since he walked into Code's room one time and saw me fucking Cody? Oh, sorry, Gary, I keep forgetting that Wingnut is a hero too. Him and Mark. I bow before the fucking heroes of this world. Maybe I should join their fan club.

I was such a good little nerd in school today. Bruce wants his stuff [crack] or wants me to pay him for it. Told him he could rent me for the night and do what the fuck he likes. He's not getting his stuff back.



[It was at this stage that I discovered that some of my replies to Steve hadn't arrived, so I forwarded them. It's possible that part of Steve's anger and frustration was due to his thinking that I was ignoring him, which I certainly wasn't. Anyway, he later mentioned that he'd received all the forwarded mail. MrB]

February 05

Hi Gary. I had to write this before leaving for school. Bruce? He's helping me for what's in it for him. He's been trying to get into my pants for fucking years now, and right now I don't give a fuck. So I'll let him fuck me and use me for the moment - while it fucking suits me for him to do that.

As for Wingnut, don't hold your fucking breath. I'm starting to feel sorry that I ever met Cody. Not because he was Cody. Fucking hell! I loved him more than I can dare say. But because of what I've got now. Wing-fucking-nut and Cody's bitch girlfriend. The only genuine person in the whole fucking plot is Mark.

I've gotta get moving, but the reason I'm writing this is that I don't even want it fucking suggested that I connect with anyone [in Cape Town]. It's like Cody's dad said - I live in a fucking dingy world of fucked up nothing right now, and I'm fighting for fucking air, and I need to get out of this shit myself.

Thanks for the mail from Francois. It was really cool reading all that as well. I got another mail from Kim H. He's writing every fucking day now, and I'm really getting smothered by fucking mail.

I haven't read the latest Steve chapters yet, but I read the news that you got hate mail already. Cool, bring him fucking on. I'll know how to deal with him.



In the following chapter, Steve pushes me to a point where he's testing me to the limit of my patience and resources. He wants to know how far I'll bend before I break. Well, I figured I'd do the same thing, and test him. For the first time in this story, you'll read Steve's emails followed by my responses. I wrote something that hurt Steve very deeply, but I justified that in my reply by suggesting that the best thing to do when a person becomes uncontrollably hysterical is to slap them hard across the chops - Code style. Anyway, the good news is that everything eventually worked out pretty well, but not before some nail-biting suspense. MrB

Copyright 2002 All rights reserved. mrbstories


 Steve Part 21