I summoned every ounce of strength I had to force Kyle's arms apart, then, with much grunting and growling, I twisted around and fisted the cheeky fucker with short jabs to the stomach, which compelled him to release his grip with his legs.
Now that I was free, I quickly pinned down his arms on the bed, then used my knees to secure them, putting pressure on his sweet spot, and causing him to grimace in pain. Ha!
"So? What are you gonna do now?" I grinned as I looked down at the face of my victim. I gave him a couple of light smacks on the cheek, then drilled his chest with my knuckles. But I'd underestimated the power of my bud. Suddenly, I was thrown to one side, and wrestling with an octopus, or so it seemed. Arms and legs were flying in all directions as we tried desperately to overpower one another. It was a pretty even match, though, and after some minutes, we were both too exhausted to continue. We laid there for a few moments, catching our breath, then I began to laugh.
"Fuck! You don't know your own strength, Kyle."
I was still in my boxers, and dripping with sweat, when Kyle followed me through to the kitchen where I poured us a couple of Cokes. His school clothes were drenched with perspiration. Then, without saying a word, he stood behind me, and placed his arms around me. His hands were on my abs, and I could feel the heat and humidity from his chest being absorbed by my back.
"You starting again?"
"Nope. I just enjoy the feeling. Your skin has a kinda soft feeling, but tight, if you know what I mean."
Normally, I would've moved away, but I was too buggered after the wrestling to bother. Besides, I was in the process of pouring the drinks.
"Pull your stomach in… I wanna feel what it's like."
What was the point of arguing with this spiky-haired maniac? I breathed out, and sucked in my stomach until it was as flat as a board. His finger was playing with my navel. "So?"
"So what does it feel like?"
"Totally cool. Kinda like soft-covered rock."
Not surprisingly, his hands began to wander south. When they arrived at the elastic waistband of my boxers, I turned to face him, and handed him his Coke. "Here."
After he'd taken his drink, he lowered his eyes and spotted the tent in my boxers. Hell, what did he expect? Of course I had a fucking boner! Anyway, we finished our Cokes, then he split to join Wingnut and Steve for a surf.
What was I gonna do with that guy? He was crazy… but a cool kinda crazy. He had a girlfriend, he surfed, he could fight, he was feisty, he was as macho as the next guy. But it was like he was made outa damn sex. He couldn't keep his hands off me. If another guy had tried that, I would've sent him to intensive care. But Kyle sensed that he had some kinda mysterious power over me. He knew that my cock would respond to his touch, and he was willing to risk my rejection… or worse.
As I prepared dinner for mom and me, I kept thinking about how I'd treated him earlier that day at school… taunting him, and teasing him. Yet, he'd walked home with me like a faithful puppy. What had I done to deserve a friend like Kyle? Fuck, if anybody treated me like I sometimes treated him, he'd be on my hate list. Actually, that's how Kyle and I began… we hated each other. And now? I didn't know the answers, and the more I thought about our friendship, the more confused I became. It didn't make sense.
I was sure the dude wanted to blow me. Hell, I remembered that time we were both as drunk as fools after clubbing, and he slept over. He was sitting on my bed and I was standing in front of him. He was talking some lame shit about blowing me so I thought I'd call his bluff. I pulled down my boxers and dangled my semi in his face. The next thing I knew it was in his mouth.
"Fuck! What the fuck are you doing?"
"What does it look like?"
"Jesus! I thought you'd… well, I didn't think you'd… Jesus Christ!"
He was trashed, so I figured that had to be the reason he tried to eat me. When we woke next morning, he mentioned it, but I freaked again. I didn’t wanna talk about it. I was sure that, if he'd been sober, he wouldn't have done what he did. But, as time passed, and I had a chance to think more about it, I became increasingly convinced that Kyle really did mean to put his lips around my cock. It wasn't 'cause he was drunk. He'd meant to do it. And, if I'd let him, he would've gone through with it.
Sure, I'd fantasized about Kyle blowing me, but that was just fantasy. Kyle was somebody I had a stack of respect for, despite the way I treated him sometimes, and there was no way that I wanted him to be anything less than the guy I looked up to. Seeing him with my dick in his mouth would ruin the image I had of the dude. Sucking my dick was the kinda thing a faggot would do, and Kyle was no faggot. But that was the paradox. I enjoyed jacking with him, and having him near me, even feeling me, and being in bed together. But where was the line that separated being gay from being cool buds? Fucked if I knew. Fucked if I knew.
On the Wednesay night before the long weekend, Carol, Steph, Kyle and I went to a pub in Cape Town called 'Stones'. Thursday was Freedom day, Friday the school was closed to allow families to get away for the weekend, and Monday was Workers Day. Anyway, Stones was basically a pool pub, so we played a table for most of the night, and had a way cool time. Well, I did. Kyle was kinda pissed that I whipped his ass in every game. We kinda took it easy with the drinks, and stayed pretty sober, but it took fucking ages to get a lift home. Carol and I shared a j while we waited for passing cars to stop for us. Naturally, my bud didn't wanna share a smoke, and I figured Steph had also declined 'cause she didn't wanna get a lecture from the Reverend Kyle. By the same token, I had to respect the dude. He had principles, and he stuck to them. He wasn't the kinda guy to buckle under peer pressure, and that was a quality that deserved to be admired, even though I'd never admit it.
After we'd arrived at Carol's place, Steph and Kyle shared the guest room, while Carol and I slept in hers. We were getting pretty cosy, and giggling about stuff, when I suddenly remembered that I didn't have a rubber with me. "Hang. I'll check if Kyle's got one."
The first sight that greeted me after opening the door was Kyle's white ass in mid air. Steph tried to grab the covers, but it was too late. My bud was choc-a-bloc up her, and the only thing covering her pussy was his hangers. "Don't panic," he said, "my nads are hiding everything my dick isn't."
"Kyle… sorry, bud, but it's an emergency. You got a spare safety?"
I could tell that Kyle was doing his best not to giggle his tits off, 'cause the look on Steph's face was fucking priceless… as though her parents had just walked through the door. The situation also brought back memories of me and Steph together, before I met Carol, under exactly the same circumstances.
"The side pocket of my cargoes."
As I fumbled around in his pocket, I saw him ogling my boner, which was pushing out a huge tent in my boxers. When I found the condom, I gave him a slap across his ass. "Thanks, bud. Hey, Steph, you're looking hot, babe."
Well, I hadn't expected my remarks to crack everybody up, but Kyle and Steph became almost hysterical with laughter. I guessed my comment must've relieved the initial tension, and caused them to see the funny side. Anyway, I split, and returned to Carol's room.
"What were they doing?"
"And you walked in?"
"I was desperate. I didn't think to knock."
"Steph must've freaked!"
"She did at first. Then they both cracked."
"You're getting to be as bad as Kyle."
Next morning, I made breakfast for everybody. No point in asking Kyle. His gastronomical flair was limited to peanut butter sarmies. Anyway, I was used to cooking meals, and doing other jobs around the house, so it was no biggie. Besides, it was cool to see everybody woofing down the food I'd prepared for them, and enjoying it. Doing things for other people, especially close friends, had its own special rewards.
With winter coming on, I was back into boxing training at school. I was in the middle of punching the shit outa the bag one morning in the gym when Kyle arrived.
"You’re looking pretty damn buff."
To have answered him would've gotten me tangled in his sticky web of depraved intrigue, so I just grunted and kept hitting the bag.
"Oh, fuck! You always do, Mark," he continued. "And you look even better when you're all sweaty, and boxing like that."
"You gonna hold the bag for me or keep talking shit?"
Kyle changed outa his school uniform, then held the bag for me. Later, when I was doing my skipping and sit-up exercises, he took a turn at the bag. And there he was again, doing 'guy' stuff, which seemed to me to be a total contradiction to his gawking at my bod just a few minutes beforehand. How was I supposed to figure Kyle? He was unique. Too fucking unique.
At break, I spotted a couple of lighties trying to tear each other to shreds. Damn kids. "OK, what's this all about," I demanded as I separated them. It was a dumb question, 'cause I all got in reply was, "It was his fault!", and, "Bullshit! It was his fault!", etc.
"OK, I'm not gonna book you this time. Go get cleaned up, and don't let me catch you fighting again. Hear?"
That wasn't my brightest ever move, 'cause somebody must've reported the incident to one of the teachers who gave me a shit time for not booking the lighties. What made the situation even worse, was that he blasted me in front of a whole bunch of other students.
"You're a prefect, Mark. Your job is to spot trouble, and book the offenders. How do you think this school is supposed to maintain control of its students if you're going to turn a blind eye? It's not your prerogative to be an adjudicator of these situations. That prerogative belongs to us, the teachers, and not the prefects. Is that clear?"
"It was just a scuffle. No biggie. Kids fight all the time."
"And they'll continue to fight while ever you allow them to. You should have booked them!"
"If you think you can do a better job, take my badge."
"You're being insolent! I demand an apology this minute. Otherwise, I'll report you to the headmaster."
"So go ahead and report me."
Following the meeting with the head after school, I should've been surprised to see Kyle waiting for me, but I wasn't. That crazy dude just didn't know how to unglue himself. So we walked home together.
"How'd it go?"
"I got into an argument with the teacher in front of the head. I was totally fucking pissed that he'd made a fool of me in front of the other students. Why couldn't the prick let me get on with my job? I knew what I was doing."
"So what did the head say?"
"He was pretty cool, I guess… under the circumstances. He put me in charge of the work detail after school tomorrow. But I'm still fucking pissed off."
"So why didn't you just hand in your badge?"
"You've been threatening to do it for ages."
"Hey, Kyle, all my life I've been a fuckup. Sometimes I think my folks broke up 'cause of me. My mom was so fucking chuffed when I got this badge, and it would really disappoint her if I gave it up."
"She'll support you, though."
"Yep… but she'd be disappointed." When we reached the front gate of my house, I invited my bud inside for a sec while I got changed. I knew he'd gawk at me, but, hey, what the fuck. He liked me. And he cared. Sure, he pissed me off sometimes with all his damn questions, but at least he asked them. At least he was interested enough to listen. And how many people did I know who were like that? Only one.
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