I've been dying to write this story. It's based on real-life characters and, yes, Kyle is the same Kyle as in Daniel's Diary. This is a charming and joyful true story of a boy who has a crush on an older teen. It's about friendship and heroes and hearts as big as the endless blue, plus all the things that make being a boy so damn wonderful and exciting. Is he still alive in you? I hope so. He's sure as hell still alive in me, and will be until the day I *cough* *wheeze* croak.
South Africa
Part 1
The big guys call me a grommet 'cause I'm younger than they are. In a few years, they'll call me a surfer. There's one who lives next door -- Kyle. I've seen him down at the beach surfing with his friends. He's a rave surfer but not quite as good as his bud Steve who was practicing 360s when I last saw him. Wow! You should've seen that guy! Fucking awesome!
A lot of girls hang out at the beach, too. The guys call them groupies. They sit in giggling groups on the sand watching the dudes on their boards and wetting their pussies. One day, I'm gonna get me a board and those chicks are gonna wet their pussies looking at me! Yes!
A while back, I plucked up the nerve to talk to Kyle. I'd been wanting to for ages but he'd never noticed me in the whole year that we'd been neighbors. I figured he probably thought I was some dumb kid who'd get in his way and be a nuisance or something.
"Hi."
"Hi."
"Can I help you with your garden chores?"
"Sure."
Kyle turned out to be a way cool guy. He showed me what to do and we chatted a whole bunch while we worked in his folks' garden. All the time, I was checking out his boardshorts. They were totally kewl -- like a floral design with velcro pockets on the sides and back, with a wide, black waist-band and stripes down the sides. The front was moulded to show his dick which was pushing out. And I could tell that he liked his shorts -- they hung low and I could just see the top of his ass crack. The front hung away from his stomach so, if I got up close and looked down, I could see his pubes. I didn't have any pubes, dammit.
"Wicked boardies, man."
"You like 'em? Steve bought 'em for me. They're the same as his -- Billabongs. Steve said we can parade along the beach like the Topsy Twins with our ass cracks showing," he laughed. "Have you seen Steve?"
"Yeah! He does 360s. Wicked! And you're right about his boardies showing his crack. I've seen his pubes sticking out the top, too."
"You surf?"
"No board, dammit. I body surf, though. And I'm on the school swim team. And I play rugger."
After a couple of hours, I had to go home for lunch. "See ya, Kyle." "See ya, Wingnut." Wingnut? What the hell was Wingnut? Before I entered my house, I paused to look back at Kyle. He was fixing some stuff that I hadn't done right. Fuck! I messed up! Maybe Wingnut was a word for somebody who was thick. I looked it up in the dictionary. "A nut with winglike projections for thumb and forefinger leverage in turning. Also called a "butterfly nut". So what the fuck was that all about?
"Are my ears big, mom?"
"No bigger than average, son."
"Kyle called me Wingnut."
"Boys are always giving each other silly names, son. It's probably meant as a term of endearment."
"What's that?"
"It means he likes you."
"He does? Woohoo! Do you really think so? Gee, I hope so. He's so cool, mom. He's totally awesome."
"Oh, dear. I think we have a crush on our hands."
"You like him, too?"
For the rest of the day, I couldn't stop thinking about Kyle, and peeking through the curtains to catch a glimpse of him, but he must've gone surfing with Steve. Damn!
It was a few days later when I spotted him in his yard. I grabbed my soccer ball and ran over. Damn! I ran! What an idiot! I should've walked! He was gonna think I was a fucking lamo kid with a crush. Sure, I had a crush big time, but I wasn't gonna tell him that. I wanted him to think I was tough like he was -- and he was one helluva tough mother. He was always in shorts, and he had a totally rad bod with muscular shoulders and a deep chest. His tan was wicked, and his mop of spiky, black hair kinda had a mind of its own, but it looked way neato.
"Hi ya, Wingnut."
"Hi ya, Kyle. Wanna kick a ball around for a while?"
I was surprised that Kyle was outa breath so soon. "Whoa, Wingnut, I'm fucked! Oops, dude, sorry for swearing."
"That's cool. I swear, too. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. See? And my best friend Brian swears, too. So it's no biggie." I must've said something funny 'cause Kyle cracked right up.
"Anyway, Wingnut, you must use different muscles in soccer to the ones I use in surfing. Jeez, you're an energetic little grommet."
"When are you gonna teach me? Surfing, I mean."
"You really wanna learn? Well, I guess if you're on the swim team you must be a pretty good swimmer, so at least I don't have to worry about you drowning. But there's not much surf lately. It's all mush."
"So teach me in mush."
"Come to think of it," he laughed, "I learnt in mush when I was a little Kyle. It builds your stamina 'cause your gonna have to paddle for shit just to stay in the surf."
"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit."
Kyle cracked again, but I just wanted him to know that I was all grown up and could swear with the best of 'em. Anyway, I had him giggling like crazy and that was a good sign. He really did like me! Woohoo!
"How old are you?"
"Going on twelve."
"That means your eleven."
"It means I'm going on fucking twelve! I don't wanna be fucking eleven." Kyle cracked again. What was so damn funny?
"Well, Wingnut, I gotta tellya, you're very mature for a grommet, and you've got a build more like a fourteen year old's, at least."
"I do?" I puffed out my bare chest and bent my arms to show my biceps. "Pretty cool, huh? I'm gonna look like you pretty soon, I figure."
That night, in my room after dinner, I stripped except for my boardies, then lowered them until they were hanging off my hips, just above my cock, like Kyle and Steve wore theirs. Damn! No pubes! I cut a little bit of my hair and used some sticky tape to fasten it to the inside top of my shorts. I put them on again and studied my reflection in the mirror. PUBES! Woohoo! So damn cool! But they weren't curly. Shit! OK, so I had straight pubes. Better than no fuckin' pubes.
Then I got this totally rad idea of drawing pubes. Yes! I used a ball-point pen to draw a bunch wiggly lines above my dick. Cool! When I checked myself in the mirror, I started to get hard. It looked so awesome to see my boner with pubes above it -- like it was for real -- and like I imagined Kyle's would look -- only his would've been bigger. When I touched my woodie, it felt totally wicked 'cause I was thinking about Kyle touching it. Would he? Nah, probably not. But Brian my best friend did. Brian and I jacked off a lot together. It felt much better when somebody else had their hand on your boner.
"Hey, Kyle! How about we hang out together, dude?" Nah, I didn't look right. I rested my weight on one leg, put my hands on my hips and cocked one eyebrow like I was totally kewl. "Hey, Kyle. What ya say we hang out together?" Nah, still not right. Damn! I must've practiced in front of the mirror for an hour before I said g'night to my folks and hit the sack.
The next time I visited Kyle, he was wrapped in a towel when he answered the door. "Hi ya, Wingnut. C'mon in, dude. I've just had a shower."
I followed him to his room. Whoa! A mini hi-fi with a CD player was on the shelf behind the double bed. A huge poster of "Endless Summer" hung on the wall near his surfboard. I walked closer to the poster to read the writing on the bottom. 'Kyle - keep wet - John Whitmore'.
"Who's John Whitmore?" I asked as I turned to see the towel draped over the bed, and Kyle standing there totally starkers. Although I didn't take my eyes off his, I could see that his dick was fucking HUGE! But I didn't wanna gawk.
"He's the dude that showed the two surfers around South Africa when they made the movie. All the surfers call him 'Oom', which means 'uncle'."
"Cool!" I paused to get up my nerve, rested my weight on one foot, and put my hands on my hips. "Hey, Kyle, I've been thinking, dude. What d'ya say about… well, y'know, like you and me sorta… I mean, kinda hang and stuff, whatever…"
"What the hell are you trying to say, Wingnut?"
"I wanna hang with you, dammit!"
Kyle collapsed on the bed cracking up something wicked. He raised his knees and I saw everything. And I mean everything! Whoa! He had big balls and a really long cock even though it wasn't hard. It must've been six inches soft! Fuck! If the groupies on the beach got an eyeful of that monster, they'd never leave him alone!
Kyle finally swung his muscly, tanned legs over the side of the bed and sat up. "You wanna hang with me? Is that what you're saying?"
"Yeah! Woohoo! That'd be so fucking cool!"
"OK, well I gotta think about that some. Maybe you can help me with the chores while I chew it over."
"Wicked!" Well, I figured I was in with a big chance. I could feel it. "So what chores do you want me to help you with?"
The moment we'd stepped into the bright, morning sunshine, and Kyle had pointed to the dog crap on the lawn, I got an idea. "Back in a second!" Kyle couldn't believe it when I returned from my house wearing a diving mask and a snorkle. He cracked again. I had him! I was sure of it! I figured if I could keep him laughing, he'd let me hang with him for certain. Yes!
As I went about my chores, I couldn't help noticing the way Kyle would look at me from time to time, as if he were admiring my bod. I remembered what he'd said about my having the build of a guy two years older. Was I that good? Hey! My grommet days were numbered, man. How cool! "Hey, Kyle, when are you gonna teach me how to surf?"
"School hols are coming up soon, Wingnut. How about then?"
"Wicked! And will Steve come, too?"
"We're joined at the fucking hip, man. We're the Topsy Twins, remember?
"Yeah, and showing your ass cracks and pubes. Hey! D'ya wanna know what I did…? Nah, sorry, you don't wanna know."
Well, he pestered me for ten minutes trying to get me to finish what I was gonna say. I figured he was gonna think I was a total dork about sticking hair on my boardies, then drawing pubes on my crotch but he didn't. OK, so he rolled around on the lawn laughing his tits off, but I knew he wasn't mad at me or anything.
"Wingnut," he said, wiping the tears from his face, "you're fucking priceless, dude. So, you wanna hang with me and Steve?"
"Can I? I'll clean up the dog crap every day and I'll…"
"Chill. You don't have to do any of that, man. Just be yourself."
"Does that mean I can hang with you?"
"I'll break your fucking arm if you don't."
"WOOHOO!!!!!!!!!!"Copyright © 1999 All rights reserved. mrbstories
