Chapter 4

It'd been a difficult first week at school, but both Sky and I managed to survive. He agreed to spend the night at my place on Friday, which was something we did once in awhile. After we went through my comic collection, I closed my door, quietly locked it, and whipped out three of my Dad's prime Playboys from behind a drawer in my old desk.

"Take a look at these," I whispered, letting a centerfold fall open.

Sky whistled. "Shit, look at the tits on this one!"

Almost immediately, I saw a lump grow in his shorts. We lay down on my bed and excitedly scanned the photos. For nearly half an hour, we flipped through the slick color pages, each of us critiquing the girls and comparing different shots. I think I preferred blondes; Sky said he was a "breast man," and rubbed his fingertips lightly on the round mounds of Miss September.

I felt butterflies in my stomach. I didn't tell Sky, but my favorite was one that had a naked guy in the shot with the girl. Much to my disappointment, you couldn't see much except for the guy's smooth chest and arms, but he definitely had muscles to spare. Whenever I saw it, I felt a confusing mix of feelings, but I couldn't ignore the insistent throbbing between my legs.

"You wanna... you know, do it?" I asked, nervously.

"You mean... jack off?" he said, never taking his eyes off the page.

"Yeah."

"Sure," he grinned. "Let's do it together."

We each slid down our pants, tore off our T-shirts, tossed them in a pile on the floor, and lay on our backs in the middle of my bed. I glanced over at Sky, who was already rock-hard and stroking, never taking his eyes off his centerfold. I held up my magazine in my left hand and did the same.

"This isn't gonna take me long," he gasped.

"Me neither," I said, eying his boyish dick. I saw for the first time that Sky had a few stray blond hairs on his balls, which excited me in a strange way. In less than a minute, he was groaning and flailing his hand rapidly.

"Oh, man, I'm gonna cum!" he moaned.

I tossed down my magazine, grabbed myself with both hands, and began stroking in earnest. "I'm close, too!" I gasped.

He erupted in spasms... two, three, four spurts shot up his chest. Sky fell back, exhausted, then eyed me as if seeing me for the first time. "Jesus, Wil. You really do have a big dong!" He giggled and grinned at me.

I stopped in mid-stroke. "Cut that shit out, man!" I snapped.

"No really, I'm not making fun of you. It looks cool!" he said, admiringly.

I felt a glimmer of pride, and held my bulging member off to one side. "So you don't think it's a donkey dick?"

Sky leaned back on the pillow, put his hands behind his head and chuckled affectionately. "Yeah, I heard about that crap at school," he said. "Ignore those jerks. They're just jealous."

"You think so?" I asked, hopefully.

He grinned and nodded. "Shit, who wouldn't be, Wil?" he said, using a tissue to wipe off his muscular chest and stomach. "Even I am."

I was stunned. "Sky, you're the best athlete I know! Why be jealous of me?"

"Not of you, you moron! Your dick!" He sat up, shaking his head incredulously. "Any guy would be happy as hell to have that thing. The chicks'd be lined up around the block if they knew you had one like that." He looked down at my groin, then said, "Shit -- I bet it's so big, you could give yourself an S.B.J.!"

I had already heard a lot of sex stuff at school over the last few days, but not this. "What's an SBJ? Is that related to LBJ?" I said, puzzled, referring to the current president.

Sky giggled and shook his head. "You know what a blow-job is, right? When a girl sucks your dick?"

The mental image gave me an immediate twinge.

"Yeah, sure," I said. "You mean fellatio." That one I'd found in a reference book at the public library.

"Thanks for the scientific terminology, professor," he said, laughing. "Now, what if you could do it to yourself? Like a self-blowjob? 'S.B.J.,' get it?"

I thought for a second and looked down at my swelling member. It did look tantalizingly close to my face.

"Would that be too queer if I did it to myself?" I wondered aloud.

Sky thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Naaaaa. It's still your body. Try it! I bet you can do it." He crawled across the bed on his stomach and leaned over on his elbows, watching me expectantly.

I hesitated, then turned to him.

"C'mon, just try it, Wil!" he taunted. "I dare ya."

I took a deep breath, sat up and leaned forward, then pushed my mouth towards my groin. With a tremendous effort, I forced myself down and my lips just barely grazed the tip.

"Wow!" he marveled. "You've almost got it!"

"Yeah," I winced, "but it hurts my back like hell!"

"Try another position," he advised.

"Like what?"

Sky thought for a minute. "Get on your back, and pull your knees all the way over, like in gymnastics class!"

I thought for a minute and nodded. I turned over and got into position, moving my groin right over my face. I pulled my butt cheeks down, and was rewarded with my entire head slipping into my mouth. The feeling was indescribable -- hot, wet, and exciting.

"Fuck!" Sky whispered excitedly. "You can actually do it!"

"Mmmmmph!" was all I could reply. I couldn't get enough of this feeling. I slurped and gobbled up my member, which seemed to expand even longer as my desire increased. I pulled it out and licked it around and around with my tongue, then shoved it back in as far as I could go, my entire mouth wrapping it like a warm blanket. Jesus, I thought. If this is what a blow job's like, I bet it'd be even better to have somebody else do it for me.

Before I knew it, an involuntary guttural moan started in the back of my throat, as I felt the oncoming orgasm rise through my loins. Sky was silent as I plunged deeper and deeper into my own mouth. I was oblivious to him or the room around me; as far as I was concerned, the only thing that existed was my own warm mouth and my enormous cock.

"Shit, that is so cool!" Sky said, marveling.

I glanced over and saw his eyes were riveted to my groin. I looked down and saw his erection had popped back to full attention. I felt a huge wave of excitement overtake me as I pulled my groin down closer to my face, and tried to ignore the dull throbbing pain in my lower back. My heart raced even faster when Sky leaned over and gently rubbed my backside. Suddenly, I was hit with a lightning bolt of pleasure, and a warm salty taste blasted through my mouth. I moaned and fell back, coughing and choking.

"GROSS, man!" Sky yelled, standing up. "You fuckin' swallowed it!"

"What?" I gasped dizzily, my face flushed. I continued to erupt two or three more small spurts, which trickled down my abdomen and onto my bedspread. I lay on the bed, exhausted, staring at my friend.

"Well, whaddya expect me to do?" I snapped. "Spit it out?"

"That's too queer," he said, shaking his head.

I stared at him, incredulously. "But it was your idea!"

"Yeah, but I didn't tell ya to swallow your own cum! That's just too weird, man."

I gazed down at my withering erection. Even soft, it was still bigger than Sky's was erect, I thought with some pride. Some leftover residue trickled out of the corner of my mouth, and I wiped it off with the back of my hand. I could still taste a little salty goo on my tongue.

Sky pulled on his underwear and reached for a pair of shorts. "Look, I gotta get something to eat," he said. "I'm gonna go downstairs and raid the refrigerator. You want anything?"

I glared at him. We had just practically had sex, and now he was acting like nothing had happened at all.

"No," I said tersely. "I'm not hungry. Lemme just clean off."

He zipped up his short pants, tossed me a box of Kleenex, and scurried from my room. I sat on the bed and wiped off the gooey mess from my stomach and face. I felt... I dunno, dirty and ashamed, like a little kid.

What was going on here? Was Sky my friend or not? Did swallowing this stuff really make you a homo? Shit, I still got boners whenever I saw pictures of naked chicks. Didn't that count for something? One thing's for certain, I thought -- I'm not a homo! I couldn't be. I didn't care what Sky said.

Later that night, we watched TV in the living room, sitting on the couch in our shorts. Much to my relief, Sky acted real casual, as if nothing had happened. The local station was showing Bride of Frankenstein, one of those ancient movies from the 1930s. It was one of my all-time favorites; I even had a recent poster of it on my bedroom wall. I thought the movie was cool as hell, but Sky yawned and said it was boring and stupid. Halfway through the show, I noticed he had fallen asleep on the couch, still shirtless. I stared at him, and still couldn't get over how good-looking he was. Better than any kid I ever saw on TV, I thought.

Just as the second feature began, I glanced at the clock. Jesus, 1AM already. I switched off the set. Sky looked so peaceful lying on the couch, I just tossed a spare sheet over him and trudged back upstairs to my room. I tried sleeping, but all I could do was stare at the ceiling. My head was filled with confusing images, and Sky's insults still rang in my ears. Almost against my will, I felt myself harden as I relived the events of a few hours before. I was too tired to suck myself again, but I knew I had no choice but to take matters into my own hand, or else I'd never get to sleep. In minutes, after staring at Miss September's tits, I was thoroughly spent and fell back to slumberland.

Around 10AM on Saturday morning, I awoke to find Sky already gone. My mom told me he'd left an hour earlier, saying he was starting football practice that afternoon and had to get home. I called his house, but didn't get an answer. I went back to my room and tried to do my homework, but I kept thinking about what Sky had said.

Fuck it, I thought. I flicked on the radio and hummed along to an "oldie but goodie" as the DJ said -- "Teenager in Love," by Dion. I felt a pang as the singer wailed the lyrics. I'd been going to high school only a week, and I already knew how he felt. Was I falling in love?

No, I thought. No. Sky and I were just friends... best friends. Nothing wrong with that. I'd save love for the right girl.

But that didn't make up for the gnawing emptiness I felt.

The following week, swim team trials started up. I got my dad to agree to drop me off at school twice a week at 7:00AM, since the bus routes didn't even start up until 8. The pool was huge, roughly three times as big as the ones I'd been used to: standard Olympic long course, 50 meters long by 20 meters wide, with eight lanes, all housed in a brand-new building on the far side of the Tampa Central High campus. I wore my swimsuit under my pants, to try to avoid having to undress and encounter the same amused stares and giggles that I had to endure in gym class.

When we walked out of the locker room and into the indoor pool area, I smelled the familiar odor of chlorine in the air, and dipped my toe in the water. Not bad, I thought -- they must have a heater somewhere. I smiled and relaxed. It was good to be back in my element, I thought, as I stood next to the other swimmers. A whistle blew nearby, and I looked up to see the Coach going down my row, checking our names off on the sign-up sheet, and then assigned us to some trial laps. On the word 'go,' I dove off like a shot and swam as hard as I could, but yawned as I pulled myself out of the water. This early schedule was gonna be murder, I thought.

After we watched the other candidates swim their laps over the next hour, the coach finally had us all line up in a row, and called out six names. One at a time, they walked over to him and he quietly spoke to each boy. The rest of us stood nervously, shivering slightly in the cold morning air. As the last of them disappeared back to the locker room, he turned to the rest of us and said, "congratulations, boys. The rest of you are officially on the Tampa Central High swim team!" Our cheers echoed throughout the building.

My elation quickly evaporated when I found out that despite my six previous years of local championship swim meets, the competition at the high school level was fierce. Coach Byers assigned me to the number eight lane -- the one usually reserved for the slowest swimmers. He took me aside and assured me it was only temporary.

"Son, I saw your record," he explained, reassuringly. "Give it some time. 9th graders rarely make our team at all, but I'm going to make an exception in your case. We're gonna put you on second-string to start, but you'll be ready to participate in meets in a few months. I think you've got the makings of a real champ in you, especially in Butterfly. Hang in there, Wil."

I nodded and went back to my laps. At the end of practice, we headed back to the locker room. I kept to myself and quickly toweled off, leaving the shower for the others. One of the guys I had swam with a year or two ago saw me and flashed me a grin of recognition. "Hey, Wil!" he called out.

I barely looked up and saw a face I dimly remembered, searching my brain for his name. "Oh -- hi, uh... Mark," I said. "I guess we're on the team together again." As I pulled my shirt down over my head, Mark walked over, still soaking wet.

"Yeah!" he said, excitedly. "Man, you and me are the only 9th graders to make the team so far! Isn't that's great? If you and me get to do the 200-yard relay again, we got a good chance of makin' it to the Florida state regionals!"

I glanced up at him and nodded as he snapped off his Speedos, wrung out the water over the drain, and started toweling down. Shit, I thought, as I glanced at his groin. He's a lot hairier than I was.

"Coach says we're one of the few high schools in Florida that's got an indoor pool," Mark said, as he dried off his head, "so we can keep practicing all winter long, all the way until the season ends in March. Isn't that cool?"

"Yeah, it's great," I muttered. I tried to avert my eyes from his groin, which was only inches away from my face. I zipped up my pants and started tying up my sneakers.

"Anyway, I'm glad you made the team, B.D.," he said, grinning.

I stopped. "What's 'BD'?" I asked.

"Big Dick! What else?" He cackled with laughter and shot me a huge grin.

I winced. "Shut up, man," I snapped, stuffing my Speedos and towel in my gym bag.

Mark looked surprised. "C'mon, Wil," he said. "Don't be so goddamned sensitive. Practically the whole school knows by now -- it's not a big deal. Well, actually, maybe it IS," he chuckled.

I rolled my eyes, stormed off, and angrily slammed the locker room door behind me.

For the next few weeks, things went about as well as I could've expected. Scott Michaels and I gave each other a wide berth in the hallways, and -- whether by luck or by chance -- Coach Lucas kept us out of each other's groups in 7th period Phys Ed. Sky seemed to be tied up every other day with the football team, so I didn't see much of him at all. I was starting to feel kind of lonely. Ronnie followed me around like a puppy, but he was getting annoying. Besides, Sky had practically been my best friend since third grade. I wasn't going to give up on him yet.

On Saturday, I called him up at home. "Hey, Sky, it's me," I started. "You want to go see a movie or something today?" I asked.

"Oh, hi, Wil." He sounded annoyed, like I had interrupted something. "Listen, uh, I sorta... can't. Not today. I got some other stuff to do. Maybe next week or somethin'."

This didn't sound right. "Sky, what's up?" I asked. "I wanted to talk to you about some stuff -- you know, like what we talked about the last time you spent the night at my place."

"Look, I just... I gotta go -- I got practice in two hours," he said, sounding a little flustered. "See you next week at school." Before I could protest, the line went dead.

Shit. The one guy I could really talk to was too busy to hear my problems. I was feeling horny as hell, too. Only one way to solve that, I thought. I grabbed one of my Dad's old Playboys from my secret stash, and quickly stroked my way to Nirvana.

On Monday, I caught Sky's eye as we walked into our English class. "Pssst! Hey, what's goin' on, man?" I whispered to him as sat down in our respective desks.

He barely made eye contact with me. "Can't talk now. Maybe later."

I spent the next hour trying to concentrate on conjugating verbs, and fought the urge to yell at my friend next to me. What was his problem?

Finally, the bell rang. Ron leaned over at his desk behind me and started up with one of his stupid jokes. I turned to him and snapped, "shut up, Ronnie! I got some stuff I've got talk over with Sky -- private stuff. I'll see you in Phys Ed." He was taken aback, but nodded meekly and walked away.

I walked over to Sky's desk just as he stood up, and I tried to lay on the guilt as hard as I could. "What's your problem, asshole?" I asked, angrily. "You can't even talk to me on the phone anymore?"

"I just got a lotta stuff goin' on, that's all," he began, picking up his notebook and books, all while trying to avoid looking at me in the eye.

"Look," I said, leaning in closer and lowering my voice. "I just thought you might wanna... you know, get together this weekend, and do some stuff. You know, with my Dad's magazines."

My grin faded as he looked up at me with a nervous expression. "I'm... I'm not like that, Wil," he stammered. "Besides, I met somebody."

"Who?" I snapped.

"A girl. Melissa. You know, Melissa Rivington -- the brunette who lives four blocks over from us, on Euclid Avenue. Man, she's a knockout."

My mouth went dry, and I swallowed. "Yeah. A knockout. OK, congratulations."

We both looked away, in an uncomfortable silence.

"See ya 'round," he muttered, walking quickly out the door.

I hurried after him and stopped him just as he hit the hallway.

"But what about all that stuff we did!" I hissed.

His face reddened. "I'm not a FAG!" he retorted, looking around anxiously to see if anybody was watching us.

A cold feeling hit me in the stomach. "I didn't say you were, Sky," I said, angrily. "I just thought we were friends!"

He nodded, and his expression softened a little bit. "Well, yeah. But just not... not that way, y' know?" Sky put his hand on my shoulder, and I had to restrain myself from shoving him away. "Look, Wil. You'll find a girl, too. You'll see."

I closed my eyes. I didn't believe what I was hearing.

"Look, man, I gotta go," he said as he walked away. "Maybe I can get Melissa to find somebody for you."

Yeah, just what I need, I thought as he walked away. I spent the rest of the day in a funk, but I wasn't totally sure why.
 
 
 

© 2001, John Francis