With school holidays coming up, I didn't have any special plans so I rocked around to Kyle's room to let him know that I was available to help him with any chores, or jobs around the hood. I was laying on his bed listening to music on his CD player wondering if I should tell him about my experience with the pillow. Nah, he'd only laugh at me, I thought. He'd done it for real, the lucky SOB.
"You doing anything with Steph over the hols?"
"She's going away with her folks. She phoned last night, though, and we chatted for ages."
"Stuff," he grinned. "She blew me."
"Over the phone?"
"Kinda. She talked about stuff and got me hot as hell."
"What did she say?"
"Stop fucking teasing me, Kyle! I wanna know what she said!"
"Y'know, stuff about her lips and tongue -- the usual."
"The fucking usual? It might be the fucking usual for you, Kyle, but… well, dammit, I haven't done it yet."
"Yeah, yet. Had you when you were twelve?"
"Don't ask. It's a secret."
"Fuck secrets! You and me are best buds. I even pick up the dog crap for you!"
"Maybe I'll tell you one day."
"Was it with Paul, your best bud who went to England?"
"Listen, Sherlock, there's a time for questions and a time for keeping your fucking trap shut. Guess which one this is?"
"OK, OK, already."
I didn't often get the opportunity to earn extra cash on top of my allowance, so when Kyle asked me if I wanted to help him with one of his jobs around the hood, I said yes immediately. Besides, working with Kyle wouldn't be like work -- it would be fun! Yeah, right. An old lady down the road wanted the peeling paint stripped off her front fence, and repainted. It was a hot day, and both Kyle and I were shirtless as we used metal scrapers to chip off the hard, flaky paint.
"I didn't know this was gonna be so damn hard," I complained. "I'm sweating like a pig."
"That's what you get paid for."
Just then, the old lady arrived with another jug of iced, home-made lemonade. "Here you are boys. I put some glucose in it for extra energy."
Whew! That lemonade tasted totally wicked, and we each downed a whole glass in seconds. "She's a real nice lady," I commented as she disappeared through her front door. "I've had more lemonade today than ever before in my whole life!"
"It's just an excuse to check out your bod," Kyle laughed as he went back to chipping the old paint.
"You think so? I guess she did kinda look at me. Do older women still…?"
"The fence, remember? She's not paying us to chat."
"Jeez, you can be fucking bossy, sometimes."
The rest of the hols was pretty cool. The surf was mostly trash around the local, so Kyle, Steve and I often hitched a ride to Long Beach where the surf was really cooking on most days -- and my riding technique seemed to improve every time I went out. I was styling with the best of them -- well, almost. At least I was way ahead of most grommets. And not only in the surfing stakes.
"Hi," I said to the girls sitting on the beach as I dropped my stick on the sand. "Surf was cool today."
"Yeah," one of them beamed. "You were styling something awesome." She was a little blonde chick with a wicked cool face, and about my age.
"My name's Candy. These are my friends Wendy and Sky."
"Hi. Can you help me with this?" I turned so that Candy could unzip my wettie, then I peeled it down so that it hung off my waist. When I'd faced them again, all eyes were on my chest. "So, you live around here?"
It was as if my question had suddenly woken them from a trance, and their eyes travelled back up to my face. Candy explained that she wasn't from around these parts, and that she lived just one suburb away from mine.
"Cool! You're just down the road from me. Maybe we can do pizza and a movie. I've been earning some bucks around the hood doing chores."
So I sat with them and talked about music, movies, surfing and that kinda shit, but not about sex. I figured I'd have to ask Kyle later about how you're supposed to talk about sex with girls you'd only just met. For some reason, it didn't seem appropriate, which was crazy. Hey, they were in their little bikinis with their boobs practically hanging out, and I was half naked with my wettie pulled down. So why weren't we talking about sex? Or was that just a guy thingy? Where was Kyle when I needed him most?
Well, as we travelled home after hitching a lift, both Kyle and Steve razzed me about being so damn popular with the beach groupies. "They're not groupies," I insisted. "They're just regular girls."
"Yeah, right, Wingnut. We saw how they were leering at you, and lusting after your bod."
"Hey, gimme a break. OK? We were just talking about movies and shit."
"Yeah, right," the assholes said as they rolled their eyes, grinned, and nodded sarcastically. "Sure, Wingnut."
I couldn't win. I didn't have the nerve to talk to the girls about sex, and my buds wouldn't believe that we'd only chatted about regular stuff. What was I doing wrong? That night, I slept over at Kyle's.
"Do you really think those girls were lusting after me?"
"Are you fishing for compliments again?"
"Hey, Wingnut. You're not that stupid. You spend half your life pulling your wetsuit or boardies down so that the whole fucking world can get an eyeful of your ass crack and your little patch of pubes. What the hell do you expect?"
"Well, I guess they were kinda looking at me."
"You mean gawking at you."
"Well if they were thinking about my bod, how come they didn't talk about it?"
"What would you have done if they had?"
He was right, of course. It was one thing to fantasize in my bedroom, but quite another to be faced with the reality of being on a beach with a bunch of girls in broad daylight. Anyway, later, Kyle jacked me off -- he always jacked me off first 'cause he said that all he wanted to do after I'd jacked him was sleep. So while his fist rode my woody, I thought about Candy and how her eyes had been glued to my chest, and what would've happened if I'd dropped my wettie all the way to my ankles. I also thought about that night I'd fucked my pillow and imagined… yeah, imagined it was Kyle's face. I didn't say anything about it, though. I didn't wanna risk my bro going ballistic or freaking out. But when I shot my load, it was impossible not to think about Kyle's juicy, wet lips and tongue -- and to imagine him swallowing. Woohoo!
Toward the end of the hols, Kyle's school had asked if some of the guys in the swim team would volunteer to clean the pool, gym and showers before school resumed. It sounded like fun, so I agreed, even though I wouldn't be attending his school until the following year as a junior.
I was downstairs helping some of the guys clean the gym while Kyle was upstairs in the comp room writing an email to some old dude when Mark walked in. "Where's Kyle?"
"In the comp room."
"Fuck! What the hell does he do in there? It's like he's addicted or something."
Until that day, I hadn't really known Mark all that well, but he was a totally cool guy. I spent most of the morning dissing him to see how far I could push him, but he just dissed me back. I also got the odd clout over the ears, but it was only in fun. Mark was a powerfully built dude even though he didn't surf -- but he worked out, and was on the boxing team as well as the swim team. Kyle once told me that Mark reminded him of a younger version of Tom Cruise. Yeah, I could see the similarity. I could also see what Kyle saw in Mark. He was nobody's fool -- a real independent kinda guy who chose his friends carefully. I was pretty chuffed that he'd singled me out as somebody worth knowing, especially since I was five years younger.
It was when we were goofing off in the pool, and I was proving to Mark that I was a lot stronger than he thought, that I asked him some personal stuff. "Kyle says that you're not the friendliest of guys."
"What would he know?"
I had to wait until I'd surfaced after being dunked to answer that one. "Well, you seem pretty friendly to me."
"Don't push your luck."
"What kinda stuff does he tell you?"
"Lots of stuff."
"That you're kinda abrasive on the outside, but totally cool on the inside. And I reckon he's right 'cause he's pretty choosy about his friends."
"Then now come he hangs with you?"
I lunged at the muscle-bound dude and tried to dunk him but I had no fucking chance. My head was underwater within a second. But he'd underestimated me. I dove deeper and pulled his Speedos down. Whoa! Kyle was right! Mark's was bigger! Awesome! It was thick and long, with a big, cut head, and low hangers. But I wasn't taking any chances. I swam some yards underwater before I surfaced a safe distance away and giggled. "I saw your woody, I saw your woody!"
"Hey, lemme tell you something."
"I'm not coming any closer."
"The last guy who did that to me ended up with a split lip."
"That's why I'm not coming any closer."
He dove under the surface and, before I could get away, he had me by the ankles. Then I felt my Speedos being dragged down my legs until I was totally naked. When I'd surfaced, Mark was a few feet away holding my togs in the air. "You wan' 'em, you gotta come get 'em," he grinned.
"Who needs 'em? Doesn't faze me."
"You're as bad as Kyle," he laughed as he tossed the Speedos in the direction of the bleachers. "He doesn't care either."
I hauled myself outa the pool, retreived my togs, put them on, then walked to the edge of the pool. "What were you gonna tell me?"
"About Kyle and who he hangs with?" Mark raised his muscular arms and ran his hands over his head, revealing his shaved armpits. Kyle had already told me that he did that 'cause of boxing. "Kyle's not your average dude, and I guess he doesn't hang with average dudes."
"Is that why you like me?"
"Who said anything about liking you?"
"Actions speak louder than words, dude." And with that, I leapt into the air, held my knees to my chest and bombed the fucker.
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