South Africa
Part 110

"What a fucked up lot the people of this planet are," Kyle said to me after we'd heard about the terrorists attacks on New York City and Washington. "You can imagine how pissed off they [the Americans] are over there, especially guys like TJ."

"Who's TJ?"

"Just a guy I know. An email friend from the States. Anyway, maybe pissed off is the wrong word. But what's the right word? I dunno."

I planted my butt on our bed as usual in OUR room, and quizzed him. "How'd you hear about it?"

"From Steph. She phoned me at work at the surf shop, and I thought she'd totally lost it. She was almost hysterical. She described the whole damn thing... the planes crashing into the World Trade Center towers, another plane crashing into the Pentagon, and another one crashing in a field somewhere. It was totally fucking unbelievable! She was really worried about her folks 'cause they were away in Europe for a week, and she was home all alone. She was carrying on like there was gonna be a fucking third world war or something."

There was no point is staying at Kyle's. His mom was in tears about the whole fucking disaster - all night as I found out later - and Kyle wanted to be with Steph. He cleared it with his mom to go see her. So I hopped the fence and went home.

"Dad?" He was in his chair reading the paper, and looking at a big color pic of the Twin Towers, with fire and smoke billowing from them. "Why? Why would anybody wanna do something crazy like that?"

Dad lowered his head so that he could peer at me over the top of his reading glasses. "Because they have a key inserted in their backs. Remember the wind-up toys you played with as a little boy? You wound the key, put the toy on the floor, and it followed your instructions."

"But they were toys, dad, not human beings for f... God sake!"

"Same thing. There are too many people in the world who don't have minds of their own. Their minds belong to those they worship or follow. They're robots. Wind them up and off they go."

"Are we gonna have a war?"

"There will definitely be a war, son. How big or how extensive, I don't know. Let's pray that we're not involved here in Cape Town."

That night, we spent most of the time watching CNN and Sky News on TV. Throughout the whole thing it was like watching a Bruce Willis movie. It just couldn't be real. No fucking way!

When I saw Kyle the next day, he told me that he and Steph were laying on the bed at her house. "But, no, we didn't have sex. Who could have on that night, I wonder? But, yes, we were naked and just comfortable with each other. We couldn't sleep, so we stayed up all night just speaking to each other. Then I had to get up in the morning, and go to work. When I spoke to my dad tonight, he said we won't see the end of this in his lifetime. How shit is that?"

"The Americans will sort out this fucking mess, Kyle. You'll see."

"Maybe. I sure hope so. But you already know that we've got our own drama here in Cape Town. We've got a very large Muslim population, Wingnut, and everyone is suspicious of one another, and wondering what sides are gonna be taken when something starts happening."

"More bombings in the city? Like Planet Hollywood? Now McDs and KFC?"

"Who knows? Anyway, Planet Hollywood closed down 'cause of a worldwide thingy, I think. 'Cause they were losing money or something like that."

"But what if there's a war? Are you gonna go away somewhere? Like in the army? I don't want you to go away, Kyle. That would suck big fucking time! You're my big bro! I want you to stay here so we can surf together and be together just like always. Like here in our room! This is where we belong! You and me!"

"I've heard from Paul in England. He wants to join the army if anything starts. He says that it shouldn't be too hard for him to volunteer."

"Volunteer? What the fuck? Are you gonna volunteer? That's fucking crap, Kyle! I'm too young to volunteer, and I wanna be with you!"

"I worry about guys like you, Wingnut. Will you and and your friends end up in an army fighting an enemy you can't see in a country you don't belong to? My dad often speaks about the war on the Namibia/Angola border that South Africa fought. He lost a good friend during that fighting. But what for?"

"My dad says we're like toys. You wind us up and we do whatever the dudes in charge want us to do. I don't want anyone to wind you up, Kyle. And I don't wanna be wound up either. Besides, there's no surf in Afghanistan."

"That settles it. We're not going," Kyle cracked, then the smile disappeared from his handsome face. "Hey, seriously bro, I found out something from a Muslim girl who's a friend of Steph. Did you know that if a Muslim is sitting down, and a funeral procession passes - no matter whether it's Christian, Muslim, or Jewish - they have to stand and show respect?" Then he shook his head. "I'd like to say 'heaven knows', but now..." Kyle paused a moment to study my eyes.

"Now what?"

"Now I don't know what to think, little bro. I don't know what to think anymore. I used to think life was pretty simple - school, surfing, buds, parties - but the world's gone fucking mad. What is this madness all about? Planes flying into buildings, people bombing restaurants. It's all so totally fucked!"

"Those dudes probably don't surf."

"You could be right, bro," he giggled, and patted my head. "Maybe we should start a surfing religion. Maybe we should forget the churches and go on dawn patrols instead. If there's a God, that's where he is. Out there amongst the rollers, and the rising mist. Anyway, bro, we'll just have to wait and see what happens, and we'll take it from there."

Kyle didn't visit my room very often. It was usually the other way around. But after a sunny and awesome day in Cape Town, he rocked over to see how I was doing with my studies. Mom wasn't home. So Kyle's hand found its way to the crotch of my shorts, and squeezed my semi.

"You want me to jack you off?"

"Dammit, Kyle! You're supposed to be helping me with my fucking homework! I'm gonna be in deep shit at school if I don't get this stuff finished! You said you were coming over here to clear my head."

"I didn't say which head, though."

Fucking hell, how was I supposed to argue with Kyle when he had my woodie in his hand? So I just sat there on my chair, with my shorts down around my ankles, and let him slide his fist up and down the length of my rock-hard boner. Whoa! How come it always felt so damn awesome? No matter how many times Kyle jacked me off, or blew me, the feeling was just totally wicked.

"Now look what you've done?"

"Me? You're the one who blew a truckload of juice all over the place, not me."

"It's gone all over my damn shirt. What am I gonna do now? I can't put this in the wash. Mom'll fucking freak if she sees it!"

"You know something, Wingnut? It's just so damn cool to see you squirm while you're offloading, and all your cute muscles contorting." And with that, he leaned down and cleaned up all my Wingnut juice with his tongue. It was awesome to watch him, licking it up like it was some kinda nectar of the gods. Hmmm. Maybe it was... to him. And if I was some kinda boy god, then I guessed it was cool.

"Are you gonna help me with my homework now?"

"Yep," he beamed, licking the last of my sticky juice off his lips.

The next time we had sex, it was in his swimming pool. We were both naked and goofing off. "Do you do this kinda thing with with the big guys, like Steve and Mark?"

"Nope," he laughed, then disappeared beneath the surface. When his grinning face reappeared a moment later, he flicked the water from his spiky black hair, and continued. "That's why it's so cool to have a little bro like you. I can do stuff with you that I don't do with the other guys."

"Does that mean I'm special?"

"More than you know, little bro. More than you'll ever know."

We were both relaxed as we went down in a 69 position, just floating around in the pool like a couple of lazy dolphins. After sucking each other for a while, we'd surface for air, then fill our mouths with each other's throbbers again. There was something totally special about being naked and having sex in the water. Maybe it was some kinda throwback to our marine ancestors or whatever.

Finally, I felt my mouth fill with Kyle's thick, warm juice as my tongue worked his swollen cockhead. At the same time, mine exploded into his mouth, until my nads were totally exhausted of their prize. How could anything be so totally fucking fantastic? But it was. It always was with Kyle.

When it was over, I treaded water looking for signs of my cum on the rippling surface of the pool. Nope. None. "You swallowed it all?"

"Yep. You swallow mine?"

"Yep. Have you done this with anyone else?"

"Steve."

"Was it as good?"

"You scare me, Wingnut. Sex isn't just a game with you."

I watched him plant his flat hands on the wall, then heave his tanned, fit bod outa the pool; wet, glistening muscles strained and taut. Then he stood on the edge like some Greek god looking down at me.

"What do you mean it's not just a game?"

He grabbed a towel, dried himself, then headed back to his room.

"Kyle?" I shouted as I followed him inside. "What do you mean it's not just a game?"

My bro threw his towel on his bed, then sat on the mattress, causing it to sag. "I've got a soft spot for you, bro."

"You've got a hard spot too," I giggled. "Woohoo!"

"Listen up, Wingnut, I worry that you're taking this sex thing too seriously."

"But it is serious," I insisted as I sat beside him, still dripping wet. "I mean, it's fun. Wicked fun. But we're bros. Right? Bros forever."

"Yep. Bros forever. But you've gotta remember, little buddy, that it's not just about you and me. It's about me and Steph, you and Candy, Steve and his girl, me and Mark..."

"Gimme a break, Kyle! That doesn't stop you and me from being bros. What are you saying?"

Kyle studied the floor of his room for a few moments, then looked me straight in the eye with his hazel peepers. "Wingnut," he began, "I just don't want this whole thing between you and me to get outa hand. Know what I'm saying? It's not like were the only two dudes on a desert island."

"I know that! So what's the prob?"

"I love you, that's the fucking prob."

"That's the fucking prob? What the fuck are you talking about, Kyle? I love you too, dammit!"

"I know you do, bro. But it's getting kinda serious."

"Jeez, Kyle! What's wrong with serious? What are we? Surf buddies? Neighbors? We're more than that... aren't we?"

For what seemed like an age, we searched each other's eyes. "Are you sure you're OK with this?"

"You and me? What's gotten into you? Of course I'm fucking sure. Hey, did you mean that? What you just said? Do you really love me? I mean like really love me?"

Kyle's generous lips turned into a wussy smile. "Yep, I do buddy. Always have... ever since you used to hop the fence and help me with picking up Sox's crap. Jeez, that's going back a bit."

"Anyway, it's cool that you love Steph and Steve and Mark. Doesn't worry me. I just wanna know that you love me too."

"I've only got one little bro, Wingnut. Only one."

Copyright 2001 All rights reserved. mrbstories


 

 Wingnut Part 111