South Africa
Part 102

Jason and I were still dissing each other at swim training throughout the week but at least there wasn't a fight looming. Kyle made sure of that by keeping his eye on us. "If I were the coach," he said, "I'd put you two in the damn ring and let you sort it out once and for all. But that's just me, I guess."

There was no swim training on Friday night, so I waited to pounce on Kyle as soon as he arrived home from work. But all he wanted to tell me about was how he'd been given a huge compliment by one of the suppliers to the shop.

"I did a whole display of all his clothing lines... like a marketing thing, and he was pretty impressed. He's like twenty two and pulls around 22,000 bucks [2,750USD] a month already! How fucking cool is that? He's studying marketing management part time, and says he has little time for anything 'cept his studies."

"You still gonna be a marine biologist?"

"That's the plan, bro. Oh, and another thing. There's a team of Brazilian school rugby players in town... like fifteen and sixteen year olds, and a bunch of them came into the shop. They were all wearing shorts like the Aussie footballers, and they looked fucking wicked."

"The shorts?"

"Yeah... the shorts. Anyway, a couple of them spoke broken English, like with an American accent, and they wanted to know if I could take them surfing sometime over the weekend."

After Kyle had changed outa his work clothes, he asked me if I like to help him with a few garden chores. "Mom wants me to do a little weeding in the flower beds." Yeah, right. So how come I was the one who had to clean out the weeds from under a huge rose bush that was growing in the back yard, while he potted around amongst the pansies and petunias? By the time I'd finished, I looked like I'd gone ten fucking rounds with Johnny Depp in Edward Scissor Hands.

On the plus side, Kyle's folks offered to drive to McDonalds to get us all some burgers and fries for supper. As soon as they'd gone, Kyle and I ditched our shorts on the lawn, then swam and goofed off in the pool.

"So what's with the boner?" Kyle asked as he checked out my woody.

"I was just remembering what you did at the school pool, and it got hard."

"You like that?"

"Yeah... I always enjoy it when you jack me."

"You remind me too much of myself."

"Sometimes the guys at school go on about how some guys are wankers... they have to play with themselves 'cause they can't get girlfriends or they're faggots. I just laugh with them 'cause I know a few of them who jack off all the damn time. Brian's got the biggest fucking mouth of them all!"

"Does it worry you?"

"If I didn't know you, it might have. But I know you're not a faggot 'cause you and Steph go together."

"So what's a faggot then?"

"You know what it's like. They walk around mincing like girls, and talk weird, and their hands are always dangling from their wrists when they talk... like girls."

"You get some guys who act like that but they're straight. So how do you know who's a faggot and who isn't?"

"Guess you don't."

"You wanna lay on the side of the pool, just above the ladder between the rails, and I'll jack you?"

I couldn't get outa the water quickly enough. A few moments later, after I'd gotten into position, Kyle climbed the lower rungs of the ladder, placed his flat left hand on my abs, then curled his right hand around my boner and began to stroke it. Oh, yes!

I closed my eyes and tightened my abs while my bro's fist used my pre-cum to lube my rock-hard shaft. Then, as my throbber became more slippery beneath his wet hand, Kyle began to jack me faster.

After a little while, I lifted my hips and straightened my legs, which were on either side of Kyle's chest, under his pits. I could feel my taut thigh muscles bulge as my legs stiffened and my toes curled. My abs had turned steel-hard under my bro's hand. Then I clenched my teeth in anticipation of a torrent of electrified Wingnut juice, which was about to begin its thrilling journey from my tight, shaft-hugging balls.

I watched the first three jets of jizz explode in rapid succession from my knob like they were being fired from a cannon. All three splashdowns were scattered over my tanned chest. But Kyle continued to piston my woody until my nads had been emptied of every last drop of my load.

When I was done, he rested his weight on my abs... so I lifted my head and supported myself on my elbows before asking him what he was doing. He didn't answer. Instead, he took my still-hard cock into his mouth, and used his tongue to massage a wad of cum that was still clinging to my pisshole. Then he grabbed a towel and wiped the jizz off my chest, stomach, and pubes.

"Crunchy midnight snack," he laughed.

"You're not serious?"

"Of course not."

I laid there for a while with my stomach still heaving, wondering whether or not Kyle had meant what he said -- 'cause sometimes you couldn't quite tell if he was serious or joking. Then he eventually grabbed me and pulled me into the water, which I used to wash my chest and stomach by hand. But there was still a little trail of telltale white attached to my cockhead, so I scooped it up with my fingers.

"So how was that?" he smiled.

"I think I'm gonna send Candy over here to get lessons from you," I cracked. "That was totally wicked! Did you check how high my spunk flew?"

"You had your eyes closed."

"Nope... made Chinese eyes so I could watch it. So you wanna lay down there now?"

But that wasn't gonna happen 'cause we heard his folks' car pulling in even before Kyle could get outa the water. Then we exited the pool, grabbed our shorts and put them on.

Since it was such a pleasant evening, Kyle's folks suggested we eat the burgers by the poolside. Pretty soon, Kyle's dad and I were into a convo about rugby and the Stormers, and how the damn team had better do well that weekend. That somehow led to an argument about Formula One racing, with Kyle backing Ferrari and Schumi, while his dad and I favored Hakkinen and McLaren. And Kyle's mom? She thought Formula One was all about silly boys and their sillier toys. "As well as all that Freudian stuff about "pole position", etc."

Not a lot happened over the weekend. There was a strong wind blowing the whole two days, so the surf crapped out. Kyle was telling me that the Brazilians didn't show 'cause they had a rugger match to play. But I'd heard that a second team of Brazilian guys about the same age would be in town later in the year, and the school would be asking for volunteer families to host them. Kyle told his folks about it, and they said they'd be happy to put a couple of the guys up for a few nights.

"How cool is that?"

"What's so cool about it?"

"It's called being neighborly, Wingnut."

"Yeah, right. I know all about your kinda neighborly."

A few nights later at swim training, Jason was really getting up my fucking nose. I'd had it with that dude's smartass remarks, so, Kyle or no Kyle, I faced the guy with my fists at the ready. "C'mon, Jason! Your big brother's not here to help you out now!"

"I don't need him! But if you wanna have it out now, fine with me. C'mon! Let's go so I can whip your smart ass!"

I let fly with a fist, which caught Jason on the chin, and made his eyes water. But, just as I was thinking that I had the upper hand, two fists came outa fucking nowhere and sent me flat on my ass with a broken lip and bruised ribs.

I was soon back on my feet again and about to kill the fucker when Kyle intervened and pulled me off Jason. My automatic and immediate reaction was to try to hit Kyle with the back of my fist, but he grabbed me, lifted me, and threw me unceremoniously into the pool. By the time I'd surfaced spitting and spluttering, a few of the guys were holding Jason back. He'd apparently wanted to join me in the water to continue the fight.

"OK," Kyle ordered. "Training's over. You can all go home."

On the way back to our houses, I was walking a little to one side and behind Kyle, nursing my lip, which had become quite swollen, when he asked me if I wanted to tell him what happened back at the pool.

"Nothing to tell. I was jacking around with him and he got all fucking sarky."

"Like how?"

"I was letting him catch me to think he was swimming faster, then I held him back by his Speedos. Fucking things almost slipped off 'cause he's got fuckall dick."

"Stop talking crap. He's as loaded as you are. But you got what you asked for. You've been itching to fight with him for ages now."

"Hey, it's not the first time! Won't be the last time. He's a fucking prick."

"You guys have battled before?"

"More like a massacre. He didn't realize that I would actually hit him!" Then I cracked at the memory of the fight, and the look of shock on Jason's face.

"Well, he didn't lay down for you this time."

"Tell me about it."

"So you just got what you deserved."

"Oh, thanks a stack, Kyle."

"Pleasure."

"I know you guys are big buddies with each other... so now you're standing by him?"

"Didn't say that."

"I could've taken him out if you'd left us alone."

"Yeah, right."

"Hey? You think I couldn't take him, huh?"

"OK, so now you're a big deal... just like every other bully in school."

"Yeah? Well, screw you, Kyle."

"What's that?"

"I said screw you... I'm not a bully and I don't beat up on little guys."

"Screw me? Now you're acting like a little punk kid."

Dammit! Kyle was making me so damn mad, my eyes were beginning to fill with tears, and my bottom lip was trembling. "Screw you!" I repeated.

"Yeah? Well, I guess you'll be doing your homework alone tonight, dude... 'til you get some fucking manners."

"Think I can't do my own homework? Screw you."

"You're sounding like a cracked record."

"Stop looking for shit. Fuck off!"

"Stop bawling. You're acting like a little kid now."

"I'll hit you, Kyle! Really I will!"

"Quit it, OK? You're making yourself crazy."

Well, that was the end of the convo for the remainder of the walk home. When we reached Kyle's house, he stopped to say "cheers", but I ignored him and went straight home, then to my room, where I laid on my bed and sulked for a long time. Who the fuck did he think he was? Huh? He was supposed to be my big bro. I was the one who stitched up the deal between him and the coach to help train the juniors. So what does he do when I'm fighting Jason? Who does he throw into the pool? Me! What the fucking hell was going on here? Where was his loyalty?

Copyright 2001 All rights reserved. mrbstories


 

 Wingnut Part 103