Part 117

Paul's folks were having a late dinner so, rather than hang around to join them, I decided to split. Besides, I'd already eaten. I was also pissed that Paul hadn't gotten a chance to blow me, and I was itching to offload a bucket boy juice. But how? There was no way that Greg would blow me, and it was too late to visit any of the other guys.

When I arrived at the end of Paul's street, I decided to take the long way home. I needed to walk off my excess energy and maybe think about some shit.

It felt kinda weird to be walking down a strange street with all its different houses and such, as if I were in another suburb. And yet I wasn't. I was no more than half a mile from my own street. "Who are these dudes?" I thought as I saw people moving about in hallways or relaxing on front porches. "What are they like?" Then I heard the honk of a car horn and a familiar voice. "Hey! Daniel! 'Sup?"

"Dick! Howya doin', bud?"

The gleaming, black Rabbit pulled up beside me, then Dick jumped out. "On a pizza run." He opened the hatch and produced a large, red, zippered bag. "Back in a sec. Hang."

I watched him run up to the front door of the nearest house and knock. A moment later, a young guy answered, and I recognized Jason immediately. He nodded in my direction, and I waved, but he was too busy paying Dick the money to do much else. Then the door closed, and Dick returned to his car.

"Whoa! Did you see that kid? Kinda hunky."

"Yeah. He's new at school. Name's Jason."

"Anyway, man. I've gotta jet. Lots of deliveries tonight. You doing anything later?"

"No, man. School tomorrow. Early nights."

"I'll catch you later then. Gimme a call."

"Will do. See ya."

Just after Dick's car had disappeared around the corner, I turned to look at Jason's house again. Should I visit? Nah. He'd probably be eating pizza with his folks. Besides, I didn't even know the guy. It was a weird feeling, though, as if I sensed that he also wanted to meet me. Brief as it was, there was something about the way he'd acknowledged me.

I was just about to continue on my way when Jason's door opened. "You got a minute?" he yelled, then ran down the path that led to the sidewalk. He was wearing baggy shorts and an unbuttoned shirt that flew open as the breeze caught it, revealing a pretty cool, tanned bod with pronounced pecs and sixpack. His hair was brown and kinda longish, parted in the middle so that it hung down either side of his face, and as he got closer, I saw that his eyes were also brown. "Hey, I thought you were with that pizza guy."

"Nope. He's just a friend. I was walking home -- took a different route from my bud's house 'cause I felt like a bit of a stroll."

"I'm home alone. You wanna share a pizza?"

"Thanks, but I've already had dinner." Damn! What a fucking stupid thing to say!

"Too bad. I guess I'll see you at school tomorrow."

"Yeah, guess so."

That was the cue for us both to split, but we didn't. We just kinda stood there looking awkwardly at each other as if we were waiting for something else to happen. But what?

"Well," he shrugged, "the pizza's probably getting cold."

"Yeah, nothing worse than cold pizza."

"Guess I'd better go."

"Yeah."

He turned to leave, then paused. "Hey, I don't wanna keep you or anything, but I've got a cold beer if you want one."

"That'd be way cool," I smiled at being given a second chance.

"We haven't actually met," he beamed, and offered me his hand. "Name's Jason."

"Daniel."

Jason's house looked like something outa an old movie -- lace curtains covering colonial style windows, plump, rounded sofas filled with colorful, frilly cushions, polished timber art deco furniture and lots of white -- white walls, white ceilings and white carpet. "Your mom's pretty houseproud."

"That's my grandma. She adopted me when my mom died -- she died when I was born. I never knew my dad. Sure you don't wanna piece of pizza?"

"Maybe one slice."

"Cool. I'll get you that beer."

I followed Jason to the kitchen. "Paul told me you and your folks moved down from Chicago."

"Yeah," he said as he pulled the ringtab and handed me a can of Fosters. "Hope you like Australian beer."

"I'll soon find out."

"Anyway, I usually refer to my gran as 'folks' -- saves a lotta questions. So how's the beer?"

"Awesome."

"Cool. Lemme show you my room."

We each grabbed a slice of pizza, then went to the rear of the house. Jason turned the door handle, stood aside and gestured for me to enter. "Hey, this is way cool!" The first thing that caught my eye was all the posters on the walls -- mostly of pop groups, but a few were of body builders. "You into that muscle stuff?"

"A bit, but not that seriously. Gran says those guys look ugly."

"Can't say I'm a big fan, either."

"Well, I kinda use those pics to figure where the muscles are, and to learn poses so that I can check my progress. I do weights. You wanna see?"

"Sure."

Jason stuffed the slice of pizza into his mouth to free his hands, then opened the closet door before producing a set of small, one-arm barbells, an iron rod, and a bunch of different sized weights. "This is all I have," he said, shifting his mouthful of food to one cheek so that he could speak, "but it works. You wanna try it?"

I placed the Fosters on his bedside table, then grabbed the two small barbells, one in each hand. "They're not as heavy as I thought."

"They get heavier," he laughed, and swallowed the remaining pizza. "After maybe twenty lifts, they feel like they weigh a fucking ton, especially when you hold your arms out straight. Lemme show you."

I watched Jason curl the barbells from his thighs up to his chest and back a few times. "I can't see your muscles."

"Is it OK if I take off my shirt?"

"Cool."

"I wasn't sure." He handed the weights to me, then rolled the unbuttoned shirt off his brown shoulders. "I didn't want it to look like I was showing off."

It was impossible to keep my eyes from wandering over his perfectly defined torso. He wasn't overly big -- kinda like a smaller, neater and younger version of the guys in the posters. As Lindy would've said, he had symmetry. Not only that, he looked fucking hot, and I could feel the stirring in my loins already. "It's OK to show off, dude. I do it all the time."

"Are you into weights, too?"

"Nope, swimming's about it. But I do have a chest expander thingy at home. I work out with that."

"One of those things with springs?"

"Yeah."

"Does it work?"

I lifted my t over my head and tossed it on the bed. "See for yourself."

"Way cool bod, man! Anyway, check this out." Jason was obviously excited as he continued to work out with the small barbells while I watched. It was rad to be able to legitimately ogle his meaty arms, shoulders and chest as his muscles popped, bulged and stretched. He had wicked skin, too, tanned and smooth, and with the kinda fleshy, brown nipples that silently begged to be sucked. They were perched perfectly on the lower, outer edges of his square-shaped pecs. "So?"

"Yeah," I nodded, "fucking impressive."

"So's that bulge in your shorts," he said in all seriousness. "Does this kinda thing make you horny?"

"Sorry, man. It just kinda happens sometimes."

"Happens to me all the fucking time, Daniel. Damn thing's got a mind of its own. Anyway, lemme fetch the pizza and another beer. Back in a sec, then I can watch you."

I drained the rest of the Fosters while I waited for Jason to return, and took the time to study the rest of his room. It was pretty typical -- desk, comp, CD player, portable TV, posters -- except for one thing. "How come your room's so damn neat," I asked as he returned.

"If you knew Gran, you wouldn't ask that question," he laughed. "Drives me fucking crazy, but she's cool." He took a slice of pizza from the box, and sat on the edge of the bed. "OK, man. Show time."

He was right about the weights getting heavier with each lift. I was up to about fifteen curls when they felt like I was lifting a fucking train! But it was cool to watch his face, and his sexy, brown eyes soaking up my very move. He had a bit more definition than I did, but the swimming had given me muscle tone in places where he wasn't quite as well developed.

"Hey, don't strain yourself, buddy. You've gotta work up to this kinda thing gradually." He stood and took the weights from me. "You did really well, Daniel. I'm impressed."

"It shows."

"You mean the tent in my shorts?" he laughed as he stored his barbells away. "Jeez, man, I swear that thing's got it's own fucking brain."

"So what do you do about it?"

Jason closed the door of his closet and faced me. He was as red as a beet. "Do about it?"

"Yeah, I mean, don't you jack off or something?"

"Are you calling me a tosser?"

"Hey, man, don't take it personally. I thought everybody jacked off."

"You mean... you jack off?"

Oops! It suddenly occurred to me that Jason must've been a pretty naïve kinda dude. He was probably the type who thought that wanking caused your hand to become hairy or whatever. "What's wrong with it?"

"Are you kidding? You must be kidding. You're pulling my chain, right?" A grin spread across his cute face. "Hey, you nearly had me there, Daniel. I didn't come down in the last shower, man. You're not the type to milk the lizard. There's nothing wussy about you."

"OK, so what do you do about it?"

The kid suddenly became uneasy. "Listen, Daniel, I don't mean to be rude, but my gran's gonna be home soon."

"OK, I've gotta jet, anyway." I offered him my hand which he took. "It was really cool to meet you, Jason. Thanks for inviting me in -- and the beer."

"Cool to meet you, too. Is it OK if I say hi at school?"

"It's more than OK. And if you don't say hi to me, I'll say hi to you."

"I just want you to know something, Daniel. I'm pretty new in town and I don't have any friends. I've seen you around and… well, you seemed like a pretty cool kinda guy."

"I am," I laughed. "And there's also something I want you to know. Jacking off is as normal as breathing. Yeah, yeah, I know you don't wanna tell me whether you do or not, and I'm not gonna ask you again. But just remember this, if you do, there's nothing wrong with you -- and you don't need to be a wuss to jack off. Jacking's got nothing to do with being a wuss, and everything to do with how long your arm is. And I know what you're thinking. Do I fist my boner? Yes, I do. So, I'll catch you at school tomorrow. OK?"

The look on Jason's face as I left was one of total fucking dismay. I knew there was no way that he could have summoned the words to express what he was feeling -- he was in fucking shock -- but I figured after he'd had time to think about it, he'd be cool. Well, that's what I hoped.

I was aware of the extra spring in my step as I walked home. Jason was a cool guy despite his prejudice -- or was it just innocence? In any case, I sensed a friendship blossoming. But what would he think of me if he knew everything about me? Fucking and sucking my buds. Pissing on Paul. Whoa! It would need to be a slow road with Jason -- very slow. And it also occurred to me as I neared my house that I didn't wanna change Jason too much. I liked him the way he was, and it was wicked to be in his company. He was neat. So, I had a problem. How much should I tell Jason about myself, and how much should I keep to myself?

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