Guys who didn't surf were lucky in a way 'cause there was at least one thing that didn't piss them off big time -- an on shore wind -- and that's what we got all fucking weekend! No surf! Anyway, at least I had my bud next door. He was helping his folks with the garden, so I figured I'd lend a hand. Kyle's dad was a pretty keen gardener, and had a bunch of bird feeders scattered around the yard. In fact, it was more like a park than a yard, the the pool was the lagoon. And the dog? Well, he was king of his domain and I guessed he thought we were all pretty cool for keeping his territory clean so he could crap on it some more.
Most of the work involved weeding and replanting stuff, trimming the lawn edges and creating new garden beds. I wasn't aware of how long my dad had been observing me over the fence, but he yelled, "make sure you teach Wingnut how to do it, then he can do our garden as well!"
Har-de-fucking-har. It was weird how gardening was fun at Kyle's place but boring as batshit at mine. I guessed it was the company that made it fun. And Kyle's dad had a way of treating me like an equal. We'd talk about the rugby and how crappy our team was playing. I could tell that he thought I was pretty mature for a guy going on thirteen. So why didn't my dad treat me like that? 'Cause I was his son, that's why. Besides, Kyle's dad hadn't heard all my jokes yet. Actually, I found it pretty easy to make Kyle and his folks laugh at my antics, and the more they'd laugh, the more they'd encourage me. But being mature, I knew when enough was enough. I knew the showbiz rule about leaving your audience wanting more. No point in doing an encore before you walk off stage.
Despite the wind, the weather was pretty hot, and it didn't take long to work up a sweat in the garden, so we'd hit the pool every half hour or so. "Hey, Kyle, it's cool helping you and your folks out."
"Glad you volunteered, bro. Would've been boring without you here."
"Hey, have you noticed something about Steph?"
"Are you kidding?"
"No, I mean her abs. She's got a sixpack better than… uh, better than most guys."
"You mean better than mine?"
"I didn't say that."
"You were gonna."
"It's almost Halloween," I said, discreetly changing the subject. "You doing anything?"
"Jeez, I can't believe it's a year already since Steve covered himself in silver body paint. He looked totally awesome. It'd be cool if he did that again. And maybe I can talk Mark into doing it. We could go as the Silver Surfer Trio."
"What about me?"
"It's gonna be a party with beer and stuff, bro. I don't think your folks would want you to go."
"Last year, before we moved here, I went trick or treating with a bunch of guys, and we had beer."
"That's probably the reason your folks had to move away," he cracked.
Visiting Kyle was becoming more difficult as the end-of-year exams approached. His room was covered in post-it notes, reminding him of various assignments. Homework, homework, homework. It wasn't so bad for me 'cause I wasn't in high school yet, but I had my fair share for a grommet. When ever I did get a chance, I'd hop the fence to pick up the dog crap and say hi, and maybe take a dip in the pool with my bud, which was always a good excuse to get naked.
Kyle hauled himself outa the water after we'd both heard the doorbell ring, and pulled on his boardies. "Hang a sec, I'll see who it is." He disappeared through the back door, but I stayed nude. "What the hell?" I thought, "they can't send me to jail for having a dick."
The last person I expected to see was Mark. He was wearing a pair of gym shorts which I recognized as Kyle's. His thigh muscles were bigger than my bro's, and filled the legs of the shorts big time. It was kinda weird that Kyle had been nude earlier when we were swimming together, then chose to keep his boardies on while Mark was there. I guessed the reason must've been that Mark was shy around other dudes -- not that it worried me, I stayed naked. I figured it was totally natural. Mark's prob was his prob, not mine. In any case, Mark was cool about me. Maybe he thought that grommets had a right to be nude or something. He acted like nothing was wrong, and we all had a wicked time just goofing off and wrestling.
"Dad? When Europeans came to South Africa, how come they wore clothes and the local dudes didn't?"
"There were no shops."
"So how come the Africans weren't modest?"
"Within most tribes, there was no concept of modesty -- at least, not as far as nudity was concerned. Nudity wasn't an issue."
"So how come it is now?"
"Yeah, yeah, I know… look it up."
Modesty. The state or quality of being modest, especially: 1. Lack of vanity or pretentiousness. 2. Reserve or propriety in speech, dress, or behaviour.
"Dad? If I got all dressed up in colored robes and funny hats and stuff, and wore a bunch of jewellery, would I be vain and pretentious?"
"What if I was like a Pope or a king or whatever?"
"Because Popes and kings have a certain station in life that needs to be represented by ceremonial dress."
"So you can't be important unless you look important?"
"Don't you have homework to do?"
Well, I guessed there were some things a kid had to figure out for himself. Obviously, being a dad didn't also mean you had to be a fucking rocket scientist. So, if being nude was immodest, how come all the vain and pretentious people I knew wore clothes? It didn't make sense.
The next day, I hopped the fence again and picked up the dog crap without being asked, then went to Kyle's room where he was almost hidden from view by all the post-it notes. "You got time for a swim?"
When we'd reached the pool, I dropped my shorts but left my briefs on.
"Just for swimming, in case somebody comes to visit. I don't wanna embarrass you 'cause my dick's bigger."
We ditched our undies and compared sizes. OK, so mine was maybe an inch or two shorter than Kyle's, but it was still pretty cool for a grommet's. Besides, his was fucking huge even when it wasn't hard. "Hang for a sec." I placed my hands on my hips, closed my eyes, and thought about me and Kyle jacking. Sure enough, I had a woody in no time.
"You're still a little short, bud."
Kyle's was over six inches, whereas mine was about five. "So how come checking out my boner gives you a boner?" I didn't wait for an answer. Hey, I knew the answer already. So I tackled him and we both fell into the pool, wrestling and laughing.
Later, Steve rocked around. Now Steve didn't have the kinda hangups that Mark had. Nudity was no biggie. The one thing I did notice, though, was that he'd roll his foreskin back to make his dick appear cut. Kyle had told me before that Steve thought it looked better. "It looks more like yours," he'd said. But Steve's foreskin wasn't very long anyway. Half his knob poked out even when it wasn't pulled back. There were some kids at school who had really long foreskins that you could've tied a fucking knot in, and still had enough left over to make a string of sausages.
After I'd gone home, I could still hear the guys laughing and goofing off. How I wished I could still be with them, but mom had this thing about homework before dinner. Bleh!
Later in the week, the onshore wind had died, and the surf was back up. Not big, but OK. All of us were there -- Steph, Kyle, Steve and me. There was also a buddy from school who thought I was pretty cool 'cause I hung with the big guys. We had a kinda mini comp to see who could get the longest ride. Naturally, I did.
"We were watching you from the back line," Kyle said as we walked Steph home. "You don't give a damn what wave you take off on."
"More waves, more chances," I grinned.
"Hey, who are those three chicks you talk to after you've finished surfing?"
"Don't gimme that crap, Wingnut."
"They are! They sit on the beach and check me out while I'm surfing…"
"Which explains why you catch every damn fucking wave."
"And then they chat me up when I'm finished."
Steph didn't say anything, but she was laughing during the whole convo. After we'd said goodbye to her, I asked Kyle if he thought I was laying it on a bit thick.
"With what you said about the groupies being fans? Nah. Hey, lemme tell you something, bro. Out on the back line, Steph asked me if I'd mind if she dumped me when you're sixteen."
"She really said that? Awesome!"
"Yeppo. And I told her that she'd probably have to compete with every damn girl on the beach by then."
"Whaddayamean by then? I'm doing OK now! Anyway, which of the three groupies would you take if they were after you? ... Not that they are."
"The little blondie with the bare stomach is kinda cute."
"Yeah, I think she rocks. Do you think I could get her to blow me?" Hey? What did I say wrong? Kyle and Steve were doubled up, falling about laughing. What the fuck? I was being serious!
"Jeez, Wingnut, I can just imagine you going up to her and saying something like: "Hey, can I put my cock in your mouth, and can you suck it?""
Then Steve joined in. "Yeah," he giggled, "and she'd be like hey, I'm not gonna put that thing you pee with in the hole that I eat with! And then she'd dump you like a hot potato!" Steve was practically horizontal with hysterics by that stage.
And that wasn't the end of it. All the way home, Kyle and Steve were cracking up big time, coming up with all sorts of ways I could ask her to blow me. I felt kinda dorky about being sent up, but I had to laugh, too.
Hanging with the guys meant that I had to take their shit, as well as give it. It was a kinda test of a dude's character. If you were a wuss, you'd spit the dummy and take it personally. Well, I was no fucking wuss, and I could take whatever they dished out. Besides, I knew that deep down they thought I was pretty cool. I could surf almost as well as they could, and I had my share of groupies. Hey, what more could a guy do? It would've been too easy to hang with guys my own age. No prob, but no challenge, either. Being accepted by totally cool guys like Kyle, Steve and Mark was the dope. And Steph? Why the fuck did she wanna wait 'til I was sixteen?
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