It was late one afternoon when I called in to see Kyle. I'd had a rad session surfing but he wasn't at the beach. Either was Steve.
"So, where were you guys?"
"Studying, what else? Exams are coming up soon. And I missed a class today 'cause I was reading some stories on the comp at school."
"What stories? Are you studying stories?"
"No," he laughed. "It's a kinda recreation. I had to write an email to a guy named Daniel. Anyway, don't worry about that."
"Well, I missed you guys 'cause I was hoping you'd see something totally outasight."
"You were in the green room?"
"Nah, not that awesome. Check this out." I showed him the battle wound on my leg.
It was totally cool the way Kyle was examining the cut and bruise on my leg, like he was really impressed. "How'd ya get that?"
"My stick flew outa the water and the fin came down on my leg. Pretty neat, huh? My mom freaked, though."
"Jeez, you're a funny bugger, Wingnut," he cracked. "It's like you're really proud of that damn thing."
"I am fucking proud of it! It shows that I've paid my dues out there! My grommet days are coming to an end, man! Woohoo!"
A few days later, I visited Kyle again after school. He'd been studying in his room 'cause his dad had grounded him until he'd caught up with his homework. "Hey, Kyle."
"Can I come in?"
"For a while -- I'm..."
"Yeah, studying. Are you gonna shower?"
"No, I threw a towel around my waist when I heard someone coming. I thought you might be a rapist or something, so I covered up," he grinned. "Anyway, I like to study nude."
"Yeah, and I can guess what it was you were studying," I cracked. "Anyway, I want you to read this really neat comic, then I've got something for you."
"So where's the comic?"
I dropped my jeans to show him my bright Garfield boxers. "My mom bought these for me -- they're like the ones Steve wears. Cool, huh? It's a whole comic! Read it!"
While Kyle's face was pretty close to my crotch, I could feel my semi stirring. But that was OK, 'cause he had a bit of a tent in his towel as well. When he was done reading the front, he got me to turn around so he could finish the comic. He was laughing the whole time, which made me giggle, too.
"They're great boxers, Wingnut! Totally cool! And they're silky as well. Whoa! Sexy!"
"Here," I said proudly as I handed him a package, "these are for you." I watched him open the parcel which contained an identical pair of Garfield boxers, except they were his size.
He looked totally puzzled. "What are these for?"
"I asked mom to get a pair for you as well, 'cause you gave me that way cool surfboard. Anyways, I figured you'd look pretty neat in a pair of boxers instead of those briefs you're always wearing -- that is, when you're wearing anything at all." I watched him pull the Garfields up his muscly, tanned legs until his balls hung over the waist band. "Hey, you've got a woody!"
"Yeah, I've always got a fucking boner."
"Way cool! Me, too! Hey, those boxers look damn neat on you!"
"Yeah," he smiled, eyeing his reflection in the mirror. "You're right, they do look pretty cool. So I'm gonna wear them to school tomorrow. I've gotta say, though, that I've never been a big fan of boxers, but Steve's always telling me how comfortable they are, and he's right. They're pretty damn comfy, and the satin material feels kinda horny."
He threw his arms around me and gave me a big, warm, friendly hug. I could feel his rock-hard meat pressed against my abs. It kinda gave me butterflies in my stomach, like you get the night before Christmas. Then he told me that he'd caught up with his study enough to be allowed to go surfing the next afternoon, which was Friday -- and that Steve would be there as well.
The three of us had a rave session, then chatted and laughed about shit on the walk back to Kyle's house with our sticks tucked under our arms. The guys were dressed in their wetsuits, unzipped, with the tops hanging down, but I just had my boardies dangling from my hips and showing a bit of ass crack. Every now and then, I'd glance over my shoulder to see if anybody was noticing. They were, but I think they were gawking at my buds more than at me. Kyle and Steve always looked so fucking awesome with their bare, tanned chests and boards. And Steve's long, blonde hair ruled totally.
"Did you wear the boxers to school?"
"Yep. The only prob is that you can't put toilet paper down the front 'cause it keeps falling out through the legs."
Steve was cracking up big time, but I didn't have a fucking clue what Kyle was talking about. "Toilet paper down the front?"
"It's those stories I read, bro. Anyway, the Garfields got as skiddy as anything."
"I'll tell you about them later."
"Later, later, later! Why is it always fucking later? Sometimes, it sucks serious ass to be going on twelve." I complained. Damn, I was mad! What was so fucking special about some dumb stories?
To make matters worse, Steve was sleeping over at Kyle's place that night but I wasn't allowed. I was gonna have my first rugby match early Saturday morning and mom said I had to stay home. What a bummer! I was excited about the rugger match, though. If we won, I'd be able to boast to the guys. Yes! That would be so damn cool!
After dinner, I watched some TV with my folks, then went to my room. Have you ever been wearing boardies and tried to check out your ass crack in the mirror? I gave up after about ten minutes 'cause my neck was hurting. It was funky the way my shorts hung off my hips, though, and kinda dipped below my belly to where my pubes would be, if I'd had any. I figured the only things stopping my boardies from hitting the floor were my bubble buns and my dick.
So then I changed into my rugger jersey and shorts. Whoa! I looked fucking wicked! But I'd be looking a whole lot better tomorrow when they'd be all dirty, and my knees and elbows would be covered in grass stains. I was so damn tempted to run next door and give Kyle a quick look, but my folks would've freaked big time. There was only one thing to do -- undress and hit the sack.
As I laid there, staring into nothing, I wondered about those stories that had made Kyle's Garfields all skiddy. I guessed they must've been porno stories about girls or whatever. Or maybe they were about guys jacking off. "I'd rather read about guys jacking off," I thought to myself as I reached down and felt my woody, "it's so much cooler."
Before I drifted off to sleep, I fantasized again about standing on the beach in front of all the groupies. But, this time, when the girl said something about my boardies falling down, they did! Woohoo! And I was standing there with a huge woody. Everybody was staring at it and asking me to jack off.
"I'm late for dinner. Maybe some other time," I shrugged as I reached down to pull up my shorts.
"Now! Now! Now!" they screamed. "We wanna see you jack off now!"
Jeez! They were going ballistic! But I had to stay cool. "Oh, well, I guess a couple of minutes won't hurt. You want me to spray it all over you?"
"Yes! Yes! Yes!" They had their hands clasped like they were praying or something.
"OK." I imagined all the groupies on their knees in the sand, bug-eyed and gathered around me, watching me stroke my thick, hard five. Well, four and three quarters. They didn't seem to care that I had no pubes, so maybe I had a stack of sex appeal that made up for it. "Here it comes, girls!"
As my boy juice spurted out of my knob onto my belly, I visualized it exploding like a firehose all over the girls' faces and tits. They were rubbing it all over their skin, and fighting amongst each other to be in the direct line of fire. Some were licking their fingers. Whoa! That was totally fucking rad fantasy!
Kyle was doing chores in the garden when I spotted him after Saturday's rugby match. "Hey, Kyle! Guess what?" I yelled as I hurdled the fence.
"I'm busy, bro."
"Yeah, but this is really important!"
"Pick up the dog crap for me and I'll listen."
"That's not fucking fair! That's blackmail!"
"Yeah, I'm real bad like that," he cracked.
So I got the shovel, collected the doggy poo and tipped it into the incinerator. "K, it's done. Now, guess what?"
"You won the rugger match."
"Damn! How did you know?"
"Your face, Wingnut. It's written all over your face. You're grinning like a Cheshire cat!"
"It was awesome! You should've seen us, man! We made a mess of the other team -- and they're supposed to be really good. I mean, really, really good! Anyway, it was too damn bad that you couldn't be there. It would've been so cool if you had. I scored two tries! Woohoo!"
"Well, bro," he grinned, giving me a friendly punch on the arm, "you don't have to tell me how good you are. I already know it. And thanks for helping me with the chores."
Steve and Kyle went clubbing that night. Damn! I wanted so much to be like them -- a real teenager. How come it took so fucking long? But at least I got a chance to see Kyle again on Sunday morning. He was still asleep but his mom told me to go wake him up. "And if he's got a hangover, it's just too damn bad. He's a drunkard!" Ooer! She seemed pretty mad, so I hightailed it down the hall to his room.
I peeked around the door. What should I do? Oh, well, I figured I'd just be my usual self and make him happy. I bounced on his bed a couple of times. "Kyle?"
"Fuck!", he groaned, and opened his bloodshot eyes which obviously had major trouble adjusting to the light.
"Going surfing?" He had a helluva piss boner and I couldn't stop gawking at the damn thing. Jeez, it looked horny! Straight and fat, with a big, swollen, cut head. I wanted to grab it with my fist, but he seemed kinda grumpy.
"Go make some coffee for me while I take a shower," he grumbled as he rolled off the bed.
Well, the shower and coffee kinda lifted his spirits some, so he phoned Steve, but Steve was feeling a little worse for wear and couldn't make it. So that's what clubbing was all about? Getting sick in the morning? It didn't make any sense to me at all. There was no way I was gonna do that when I was no longer a grommet. No way! How come a guy's brain got smaller when he was a teen?
Anyway, Kyle and I went surfing and had a rave session. It was damn cold, though, and raining, but I still surfed in my boardies while he was protected by his wettie.
"You're fucking blue!" Kyle couldn't believe the way I looked when we came out of the water.
"Hey! Who thinks about the cold when you're surfing? It was totally wicked out there!"
He just shook his head, ran his hand through his spiky, black hair and laughed.
"Anyway, you said I'm tough -- so I'm tough. Dammit! And I know you like me 'cause I'm tough. So don't fucking argue."
The rest of the day was a bit of a bust. Kyle's folks were mad 'cause he'd been out all night Saturday, and surfed half of Sunday. They wouldn't even let Steve come and visit. It wasn't until the next day after school that I saw Kyle again, and it was a way awesome surprise.
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