South Africa
Part 8

It wasn't just Alan seeking revenge that concerned me. Alan's second in the boxing match was a huge guy on our school swim team who we called Jumbo. During Friday's training session, I watched Jumbo's reaction to Kyle, but he seemed to be pretty cool. He didn't speak to Kyle but, on the other hand, he didn't beat up on him, either. If he'd decided to become aggro, my fiery bud wouldn't have stood a snowflake's chance in hell.

"Hey, Kyle," I said after practice in the pool, "you wanna stop by the shop on the way home and get a Coke?"

"Cool."

In the showers, he was his usual self, clowning around and making the other guys laugh. And me? Well, I was my usual self, too -- reserved. It seemed totally weird that two teens like us, who were as different as chalk and cheese, could have struck up a friendship. Odder, still, was the fact that Kyle needed my friendship like he needed a third thumb. He had friends coming outa his ears, and it was apparent just by watching him that he had the kinda personality that attracted people. So, why me? I didn't have the answer to that question.

Outside the shop, we sipped on our Cokes and chatted about shit, nothing too deep. He wanted to know what I was doing over the weekend. "Going clubbing with Carol tonight, then the Garbage and Placebo concert on Saturday. Too bad you can't make it."

"There's always the surf -- and that's free."

After the concert, which was a total blast, the guys decided to party and we didn't get home until about 5am. Steve was trashed big time by the early hours. It seemed strange that such a good looking and super-fit guy could do himself so much fucking damage. But, like most of us, the weekend was an opportunity to let our hair down and rave. For me, especially, it was an opportunity to be away from the house -- my mom's boyfriend and I didn't get along, to put it fucking mildly, and the more distance I could put between myself and that asshole the better.

Even though Kyle wasn't with us on Friday or Saturday night, we talked about him. He was always fun to have around, and I guessed we all kinda missed the cheeky, little shit. And that was another thing that puzzled me about the spiky-haired dude -- I'd find myself thinking about him when he wasn't around. He was taking up space in my mind that nobody had ever claimed before. It was weird. So, by Sunday, I decided to phone him.

"Hey, Kyle, how's it going?"

"Hey, bud, it's going cool. What's up?"

"Nothing much. Had a cool weekend. The concert was great. Steve got totally trashed."

"Yeah, I saw him later at the beach. He was looking like crap," he laughed.

"I'm surprised he made it. Must be one fit mutha fucker."

"You'd better believe it. You and Steve get along pretty well, huh?"

"Yeah, he's cool. His folks are rich and I know that some of his friends are toffs but Steve doesn't carry on with all that larny bullshit. He's a regular guy. Anyway, I just thought I'd call you to see if everything's OK."

"Yeah, pretty much."

"See you early tomorrow?"

"Yeppo."

"Neat, I'll see you then."

"Cheers."

I'd wanted to tell Kyle that we missed him not being with us at the concert, but the words just didn't come. I wasn't used to expressing affection, especially to another guy. Anyway, I'd phoned the dude and I figured that was enough. He could read between the lines if he wanted.

Next morning in the gym, I decided to show Kyle a few new boxing techniques, like how to keep his fucking head outa the way of my fists. But, while we were sparring, I hit him hard in the gut and he collapsed like a sack of potatoes. "Hey, bro," I said as he struggled to his feet, "you've gotta do like a million situps a day, man -- your gut's too soft -- you've gotta harden it up." I lifted my t and bared my abs. "Hit me like you hit the punching bag."

"Are you serious?"

"Go for it." The kid laid a series of punches into my stomach like a dude possessed, but I just stood there and took everything he threw at me.

"Damn! I'm having no effect!" he gasped as he backed away.

"Not that you can see, maybe. But lemme tell you, there's enough power in your fists to floor the average dude. And, yeah, it was painful. If I didn't have strong stomach muscles, you would've floored me with each one of those hits."

"You've got super abs."

"I'd be a liar if I denied it, but I work at it."

At that particular time of year, swim training was getting pretty serious -- the winter comp was less than two weeks away with three other schools involved. That afternoon, the coach asked us if we'd be prepared to billet guys from the other schools. I agreed, but I wasn't happy about it. Having some strange fucker invading my personal space wasn't my idea of fun. Besides, the last time that happened, the guy was an asshole and made a mess that he didn't bother to clean up. If it weren't for my mom, I would've been happy to rearrange the dickhead's dumbass face.

It was just before swim prac that something weird happened to Kyle. He'd been excused from training and was about to head home. Some of the guys had told me what had gone down between him and Alan a short time earlier, but I wanted to hear the details from Kyle's own lips.

"What happened?"

"Nothing. I just don't feel well."

"Bullshit! Something happened! Listen up, I'm coming over to your house after training and if you don't tell me what happened I'm gonna fuck you up even more than I did in the ring this morning. Got it?"

As it turned out, mom had a bunch of chores for me to do, so it was well after supper by the time I knocked on Kyle's door. "Hey."

"Hey."

"How're you feeling?" I asked as he led me to his room.

"OK, 'cept for the high-pitched voice."

"So?"

"So what?"

"So what happened? And stop fucking around with words."

"I guess Alan hated losing that boxing match."

"What happened?"

"He got me in the change room when I went for a piss during break."

"Alone?"

"He had backup, but he took me alone."

"He didn't take you. I heard what happened. It wasn't even a fight."

"So if you heard what happened, why are you asking?"

"I wanted to hear it from you."

"What did you hear?"

"I heard that you went to the change room to take a leak. When you were done, and turned to go, Alan and two of his goons were waiting for you. So you were nervous -- I can understand that -- and you put your hand out and told Alan that there were no hard feelings. So then the fucker takes your hand, pulls you toward him and knees you helluva hard in the nuts. Some time after that, there was a teacher kneeling over you and waving smelling salts under your nose."

"Hey, well now you know," he shrugged. "Just don't go looking for any shit, OK? Alan's gotta lotta backup at school and those guys are all seniors."

"We'll see."

"Don't do anything, Mark," he insisted. "It's no good starting a war at school 'cause some of those guys are packing."

"Knives?"

"Yeah, and you never know who's packing and who's not."

I decided not to pursue that line of convo 'cause I was gonna do what I fucking pleased, anyway. Nobody messed with a friend of mine and got away with it. So I changed tack and told him about my girlfriends and, in particular, the one that got away. "Do you have any girlfriends?"

"Nah, I guess I don't really have time for them 'cause they get pissed at me whenever I'm with friends or surfing or whatever. I don't need that sorta possessive shit."

It was a pretty cool convo and we chatted for ages. I kinda liked being in Kyle's room. It had a certain friendliness about it -- a welcoming atmosphere -- his surfboard and surfing posters on the wall, his CD player at the head of his bed, school stuff strewn about his desk. Yeah, it was a way cool place to be, and I felt comfortable being there with him.

In the gym the next morning, I was in one of my better, not to mention rare, moods. "Hold the bag for me, Kyle. Lemme show you what I'd like to do to Alan and his goons." Kyle grabbed the bag and steadied it as I punched the fuck out of the damn thing. Then I did a Bruce Lee and slammed my bare feet into the vinyl. My bud was cracking up like crazy at my Kung Fu antics, and I was really enjoying the musical sound of his laugh. He had a killer laugh that was so fucking infectious, he had me giggling big time as well. It was a totally gas session, probably the best we'd ever had.

Later, in the change room, Kyle sat on the bench while I showered. He wasn't making it obvious that he was watching me, but I knew very well where his eyes were wandering. My cock wasn't hard, but it was hanging away from my balls and looking pretty substantial. I'd always been conscious of my body, especially when I was nude, and the way its muscles flexed and popped with each of my movements -- so I guessed it was pretty natural for guys to notice that kinda thing about each other. Hell, I'd noticed Kyle's body plenty of times when he was showering and, I had to admit, that kid looked pretty damn hot.

Knowing that his eyes were drilling every inch of me caused me to wanna show off a bit more. I turned off the shower taps and towelled most of my bod before walking to the bench area to dry my legs. As I placed one foot after the other on the bench to towel my lower legs, I could almost feel Kyle's eyes glued to my bare skin.

"You've got such a neat bod, Mark. It's no wonder the girls finger fuck themselves when you walk past."

His comment totally cracked me up, probably because I thought he was trying to be discreet about ogling me. Then again, Kyle was always full of surprises. "Well, bro, I kinda think that your bod's got the girls twisted as well."

"How come you called me a faggot that time in the quad?"

"It's a long story, and I was being stupid," I explained as I finished drying my feet and faced him. "I was just acting for the group, and the last thing I expected was for you to react like you did -- but I'm glad you did."

"Why?"

"Gave me a chance to beat up on you," I laughed, and felt my cock bouncing.

"So what was the story with the guys?"

"It's supposed to be a secret."

"Oh, OK."

"Hey, but we're buds, so I figure it's OK to tell you. Anyway, you know what I'll do if you open your big mouth."

"Shoot."

"Well, I was with Ross one time and we got totally shit faced on booze. So he told me how you and he jacked off together on hikes and stuff. Then he told me that you're the horniest person he knows."

"So why did you call me a faggot?"

"Hey, I don't know! I didn't know you that well back then. I'd only just started on the swim team and I guess I was jealous of how fucking well you always did with the swimming. You were just a target and I'm sorry I said what I did. I know now that I was totally outa line. Forgive me?"

"Yeah, sure," he smiled.

I wrapped the towel around my waist before giving him a huge bear bug. That was a very strange thing for me to do -- but it just kinda happened. "Buds, right?"

"You bet! Can I ask you something now?"

"Shoot."

"Why are you always so damn aggro?"

"I don't know. Well, I think I know, but I'm not sure."

"Want to talk about it?"

"One day, maybe."

Copyright 1999 All rights reserved. mrbstories


 

 Mark Part 9