Next morning, I phoned Sean who said that the surf was rocking! Woohoo! I figured Kyle would have had time to repair my stick, so I jumped the fence. Hello? Door's closed. Damn! So I went around to the outside of his bedroom and rapped my knuckles on the window pane.
"Hey! Sleeping Beauty! Surf's up! I need my board!"
I watched him stagger outa bed like a drunken sailor, and head for the rear door, where I met him. Then I followed him back to his room.
"I'm sorry, Wingnut," he yawned as he pulled on a pair of shorts, "but I had to let it drain overnight, and it's gonna take a few hours to dry once it's done."
What? A few hours? My bottom lip hit the floor. Surf's up and no board? This made Armageddon look like a fucking teddy bear's picnic! Anyway, we went to the garage where Kyle used some fibreglass to cover the ding.
"Where were you last night? I brought Sean and Brian around."
"I was with Steph."
"Fucking again, huh?"
"It's called making love."
"Yeah… like two dogs in heat."
"I'll tell Steph that you called her a bitch."
"Fuck you! I didn't."
"You just did," he said casually, as he continued to repair my stick.
"I swear, Kyle, I'll hurt you if you tell her that!"
He burst out laughing before saying, "You? Ha! Hurt me?"
Oh, yeah? Bud or no fucking bud, he had it coming, so I gave him a helluva shot on the arm. Whammo! It must've hurt, 'cause he winced. Oops! Wrong turn. Next thing I knew, I'd been raised into the air, slung over his shoulder, and carried involuntarily through the house toward the pool. Despite repeated thumps to his back, using my fists, we arrived at the pool where I was unceremoniously dumped.
I was outa there faster than a scalded cat. "Fuck you, Kyle! That water's like ice!"
"Thought you'd like it. That'll teach you."
Luckily, the sun was fairly warm, so I undressed, and stood there while I waited for Kyle to bring me a towel. As he handed it to me, he eyeballed my crotch.
"You're getting quite a jungle down there."
"Yeah," I beamed. "Neat, huh?" It wasn't all that long ago that I'd used a pen to draw pubes above my dick just to see what they would look like. And now I had the genuine article.
"'Til the next swim meet."
"Fuck that!" I protested as I towelled myself. "I've been initiated already. Now it's my turn to have some fun. How long's the board gonna take?"
"A couple of hours for the resin to harden."
"Can I phone Sean?"
I was still naked, except for the towel around my waist, as I punched in my grommet bud's number. "Sean? Hey, the board's taking longer to fix than I thought. I'll catch you at the beach later. OK?" After I'd hung up, I began to notice how cold it was inside the house. Kyle must've observed my shivering.
"You want some hot chocolate or something?"
I followed Kyle's mop of spiky, black hair to the kitchen, where I watched him make the hot drinks, as well as a couple of toasted sarmies [sandwiches]. He had to be the craziest friend a guy could have. Fixing my board one minute, throwing me fully clothed into the pool the next, then feeding me.
The food helped to warm my insides, but I was still full of goosebumps on the outside. Eventually, I had to do something about it. "Fuck, Kyle. Have you got a t you can lend me?" He lent me one of his surf sweat tops, which came down past my buns -- a bit like a mini dress -- so I ditched the towel.
"You know what that reminds me of?" he grinned.
"Don't even fucking mention it! You know something? Brian's the only dude we know who's got a real bro. Steve doesn't, Mark doesn't, Sean doesn't, you don't, I don't."
"Your bud who went to England with his folks?"
"Were they close? Like we are?"
"They still are. Maybe closer. Paul's bro has fallen on hard times… into drugs and heavy shit… so he needs his bro more than ever. Paul's helping him a stack, though."
"But you and Paul... you were like bros, too."
"You think you'd rather have a real bro, or a bro like me or Paul?"
"Dunno what it's like to have a real bro. But I've got this friend in Oz who has three bros, and he never sees them. Says they're like strangers… nothing in common. So maybe it's better to have bros like you."
"I think so, too."
"'Cause Brian gets totally pissed at Alan, and they're real bros."
"Don't you get pissed at me?"
"Yeah… sometimes. Like when you threw me in the pool. But… hey, I dunno," I shrugged. "I get fucking mad as all hell at the time, but I don't stay mad. It's kinda weird."
By the time the resin had hardened, and my board was ready, the surf had become pretty shitty. Nevertheless, Sean and I were out there riding the slops. Kyle arrived later in the afternoon, but didn't care much for surfing the mush, so he hung around the beach, chatting to a few friends. At one stage, I saw him talking to Alan. I figured there had to be trouble brewing, especially when Alan's friends began to drift away, leaving him and Kyle alone. I rode a wave all the way to shore, then ran up the beach to join my bro. He was standing, with his board tucked under his arm, while Alan was sitting on the sand just a few feet away.
"Saved by the cavalry," Alan grinned.
"Where," I asked.
"Little Kyle is lucky you've come along to stop his ass being kicked."
What the fuck was the dickhead talking about? "Huh?" I'd obviously missed out on what Alan and Kyle had said before I arrived, but there were groups of guys hanging nearby who were checking out the scene, and laughing.
"What's the surf like?" Kyle asked, giving me his attention, and ignoring Alan.
"Lame, but OK."
"Too much white water," Alan interjected sarcastically. "Paddling's too hard."
"Never asked you, did I?" Kyle responded.
"My advice comes free of charge."
"What's going on?" I demanded.
"Kyle's too weak to paddle through the surf."
"Crap. He'll paddle through anything."
"There you go, Kyle," Alan sneered. "Show your little buddy that you can do it."
"Hey, lardass, how about I lend you my stick, and you paddle out, and show me how?"
Alan stood, clearly in a rage, and faced my bro. "Lardass? You calling me a lardass? You fuck."
"I don't wanna end up in a fight, Alan."
"I don't wanna end up in a fight, Alan," the slob mimicked, then glared at my bro. "Chickenshit."
Suddenly, I realized that Sean was standing next to me, still dripping wet, so he must've just come outa the water.
"So what's up?"
"Dunno. Lardbelly's picking a fight with Kyle."
"What's that?" Alan demanded.
"Nothing." Then I copped lardbelly's flat hand across my face, which stung like hell.
Alan returned his attention to Kyle. "So what are you gonna do about that, chickenshit?"
"Fuck you, Alan. You're a fucking bullying lardass."
Alan's fist flew in the direction of my bro's face. But Kyle's sparring practice with Mark came in mighty handy as he ducked. And in the same sweeping motion, he swung his board around so that it connected with Alan's face, splitting his lip, and causing an instant flow of crimson that dribbled down the asshole's chin. Almost immediately, lardass assumed a karate stance, and glared at my bro. Judging by the look on Kyle's face, he must've thought he was dead meat.
But before lardass could do anything -- that's if he could have, 'cause I figured he'd probably copied the karate stance from some fucking two-bit comic book -- his friends surrounded him and told him not to waste his time, and to drop it. He was still wiping the blood from his mouth as they led him away.
"You'd better watch your fucking back, Kyle."
"I always do when you're around." Then my bro took a look at my face. "Your cheek's a nice, bright shade of pink, Wingnut."
"Thanks for what you did, Kyle."
"He's a prick."
"Yeah. What was he doing at the beach, anyway?"
"Maybe his kiddy pool's got a hole in it."
The three of us walked home to Kyle's house where he poured some juice. I figured it was an ideal opportunity to give Kyle an eyeful of something that had been fascinating me for a few weeks.
"Hey, Sean, show Kyle your dick."
My grommet bro practically choked on his juice. "What?!"
"Show him. I was telling him how big it is."
"Fuck off, Wingnut."
"Come on," I insisted. "He'll never believe me!"
"So? That's cool. I'm not whipping my dick out."
"I do. I whip it out all the time."
"I don't care. Jeez!"
"Hey, Wingnut," Kyle said, trying to look serious, but wearing a bemused smile. "Drop it. How can you ask someone to do that?"
"Easy. It's just that it's so damn big."
"Hey, Sean, ignore him. He's a pervert."
What? Me? A pervert. Yeah, right. "Hey, if I had a dick that big, I'd want everyone to see it. C'mon, Sean," I pleaded. "Don't be chicken. Just a quick flash. Just to let Kyle know I'm telling the truth."
"No way!" By this time, my blonde surfer buddy was redder than a beet.
"OK, then. I'll do it." I grabbed my grommet bud and tried to pull down his shorts, but he went fucking ballistic, and I ended up sprawled on my back on the floor. He wasn't mad at me, though. We were both giggling our tits off.
"Fuck off, Wingnut," he laughed. "Stop that before I beat your lights out."
"Yeah, drop it, Wingnut," Kyle intervened.
Drop it? "OK," I agreed as I stood, then dropped my shorts. "There!" Two pairs of eyes gawked at my boner as it stabbed the air. Hey, even though Sean had a big dick, my woody wasn't exactly tiny.
"You've got a fucking bone," Sean giggled. "Put it away."
"You should talk! Anyone can see that your shorts are loaded, dude. Check out that bulge. I can even see the fucking shape of the damn thing!"
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