South Africa
Part 111

Jason and I were becoming pretty tight friends. We jacked each other off a lot, and blew each other. And he still had this thing about wearing my undies. Jeez! Oh, well, what the fuck. He wasn't hurting anyone. And when we weren't doing that, we were surfing or hanging out together with our chicks. Jason was totally cool to be with, as well as a lotta fun, and I guessed you could say that he was my bestest bud. But being a bestest bud wasn't like being my big bro. Only Kyle could do that.

Almost every evening, when Kyle arrived home from work at the surf shop, I'd hop the fence and breeze into our room to say hi and chat about stuff. But I never talked much about Jason and me. I wasn't quite sure what to say about that kinda stuff. Anyway, Kyle never talked much about the stuff he did with Steve or Mark, so I guessed he'd never told them about him and me either... the kinda stuff we did together.

And if the surf was rocking, we'd grab our sticks and run down to the beach for an early evening ride. Being with Kyle was the bomb. Big time.

"Dad?" Once again, his head bowed so that he could see me above his reading glasses. "When you were at school, did you boast about stuff you did with girls?"

"He didn't do anything with girls," mom smiled as she came into the room. "He was a virgin when I married him."

"Don't pay an attention to your mother," dad grinned. "She doesn't know what she's talking about."

"It's just that the guys at school kinda boast about stuff they do with their girlfriends."

"Wishful thinking. In any case, what people do in private should remain private."

"But I tell Kyle stuff."

"What kind of stuff?" mom intervened with raised eyebrows.

"Y'know... just stuff me and Candy do... kissing and stuff."

"I can understand the kissing, but what do you mean by 'and stuff'?"

"Jeeeeez, mom!"

"Don't worry about your mother," dad chuckled, then roughed up my black hair. "Listen, son, boasting about what you do - or wish you had done - in front of a bunch of school friends is one thing, confiding in a close friend is quite another. Confiding is not boasting. You understand?"

"Yep, dad," I beamed. "Thanks."

Then I heard mom's voice again. "You still haven't told me what 'and stuff' means!"

"You'll have to ask dad, mom. It's guy stuff."

But it wasn't just me confiding in Kyle. He would also confide in me, like the time he told me about his feelings for Steph. "We're probably getting too damn serious about each other at the moment."

"There you fucking go again with this serious shit! What's wrong with serious?"

"Steph feels about me the same way I feel about... Never mind."

"Who?"

"Never mind, Wingnut. Drop it."

"I'm your bro. I wanna know, so tell me!"

"You wouldn't understand, Wingnut."

"Why not? I'm a teen. Remember? I've got fucking pubes, or haven't you noticed? So tell me or I'll punch your fucking lights out. I'm almost as tall as you now."

We wrestled on his bed for a while, giggling our tits off. And, as usual, he got on top of me, and drilled my chest with his knuckles. "Who's gonna punch whose lights out?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! OK, OK! Lemme go," I squealed. Once he had let me go, I went back to quizzing him. "So tell me who you love?"

"Love?"

"Yeah... more than Steph."

"It's not a case of more, Wingnut. It's a case of different."

"I know who you're talking about. It's Mark. Right? I've always known how much you love Mark. And how much he loves you. He might be in Joburg farting around with some damn yacht or whatever, but you guys are still as thick as ever."

"How do you know all this?"

"I've got eyes, Kyle. And PUBES! Anyway, it doesn't take a fucking genius to work it out. When he came back to Cape Town for your birthday, you went all fucking gooey, just like you did when Paul came here the year before that."

"Gooey? What the hell is all this crap? I've never been fucking gooey!"

"Wanna bet? Anyway, go back to what you were saying about the way Steph feels about you."

"I do love her, Wingnut. A stack. But it's different to the way I love Mark, or you for that matter. Hey, I gotta tell you something. The other night, Steph and I were getting off in the pizza joint."

"What?"

"Not like that you dumbass. She was massaging my boner under the table with her foot, and I ended up shooting my load in my jeans. Don't fucking laugh, Wingnut!"

"Why not?" I cracked, and rolled on the bed holding my stomach. "Anyway, you're laughing too!"

"Then we went to the movies. Wingnut? Are you paying attention? Stop giggling your tits off!"

"I can't help it!"

"Do you have any idea of what it's like when you've got a truckload of cum getting all syrupy in your boxers? It's fucking gross, Wingnut. Gross!" Then he grabbed my shoulder. "Wingnut?"

"I'm sorry, Kyle. My stomach hurts."

"It'll be more than your fucking stomach if you don't pay attention and listen up! So, anyway, it started to smell. You know that smell that starts to get all the girls in the theater playing with themselves, and they don't know why? So there was Steph pissing herself laughing throughout the whole damn movie. And there I was trying to get her to shut the fuck up."

"That's the most hilarious thing I ever heard, Kyle!" I squeaked with practically no air left in my lungs. "Jeez, I wish I'd been there!"

"Yeah, I guess I can see now how funny it must've been. But it wasn't at the time!" Then he gave me a punch on the upper arm.

For a while after that, Kyle became depressed for some reason. I was pretty sure it had nothing to do with me 'cause I'd hop the fence just like always after he arrived home from work, and breeze into our room to say hi.

"What's the prob? You look like you haven't slept."

"I haven't... not for two nights. Steph missed her period."

"Is she pregnant?"

As we discovered about a week or so later, she wasn't. And Kyle was able to breathe a big sigh of relief. "I'm not ready to be a father yet," he said.

"Well, when you do become a dad some day, I want you to have a kid just like me."

"I'd drown it."

"Bullshit! Anyway, then I'd have a little bro just like you've got me. Hmmm. Guess it'd take a long time before we could go surfing together, though. But it'd still be cool."

Life wasn't always so easy for a teen like me; one that had a short fuse. At school one day, I was walking through the quad, minding my own business, when a basketball came flying toward me and smacked me in the face. I grabbed the damn thing, and threw it over the fence. Then, before I knew it, two basketballers climbed into me like they had 20 fists each, and really worked me over. But that wasn't the worst part. My dad thought I'd been walking along the railway tracks and gotten slammed by a train. Both my folks were mad as all fucking hell.

"Just look at the disgraceful state of your school uniform!" mom said when I got home. Jeez, thanks mom. What about the rest of me? Kyle was more sympathetic, though. He'd been in more scraps than he'd had peanut butter sarmies.

"Hey bro, I've got some arnica oil. It's good for muscle injuries, and it takes bruises away. Get naked."

"Naked? But I've only got..."

"Just get naked. I'll massage you all over."

Kyle spent a whole hour massaging my bod while I laid on his bed, and it felt totally wicked. He had magic fingers that caressed my bod like ten little angels. "My dick's not bruised, Kyle."

"Just making sure."

"I'm gonna cum, Kyle," I groaned. Too late. Suddenly his hand was a mess of arnica oil and Wingnut juice. He studied it for a while, then grinned at me.

"Not this time, bro. Yuck!" Then he went to the bathroom to wash his hands.

Kyle was such an awesome bro. Sure, he got mad at me when I'd experimented with drugs about a year back, and sometimes he'd lecture me about stuff. But mostly he was there for me. Like the time Candy and I had a 69-er.

"She blew your lights out?"

"Yeah. Pretty cool, huh?"

"You gave it to her as well?"

"Yeah. It was kinda weird looking at a pussy up close like that. But, hey, she was turning me on, so I figured what the fuck. We both got into it, and talked our way through it. Y'know... where to put our tongues and stuff. She'd never done anything like that before. And she was pretty chuffed about how I looked naked. She told me how macho I was without clothes on, and that she'd never realized that a guy's dick could look so cool."

"Not bad for a weenie, I guess."

"Fuck off, Kyle! One day it'll be bigger than yours. You'll see! Anyway, before I got naked, I was wearing those outasight baggies you bought for my birthday. She said she liked the way they kinda flowed like silk over my dick, and emphasized my narrow hips and broad shoulders."

"She thinks you're pretty hot stuff, huh?"

"She's not the only one."

"Oh?"

"Yeah... 'oh'," I mimicked, then said with a giggle, "You do too! And she likes those lines that run from that little flap of muscle over my hips down to my pubes."

"Oblique lines."

Oblique? What kinda word was that? Didn't sound sexy at all! Kyle must've gotten it from some bio class or math class or whatever.

If there was one talent my big bro had it was a talent for needling me. I rarely surfed in a wettie 'cause I thought it was wussy. But when it was really cold and I did wear a wettie, he'd take the piss outa me.

"I thought you said wearing a wettie was wussy?"

"It's fucking freezing, Kyle!"

"You're a wuss."

"I'm not a fucking wuss!" Then I'd lay into him with fists flying in all directions, but somehow he'd manage to deflect all my punches. And that made me even madder! "You can be such a cunt sometimes, Kyle!" I'd get so damn mad I'd almost be in tears of anger.

"You're so damn cute when you're mad, bro."

"Fuck off, Kyle," I'd yell as I stormed off.

But I always came back. I'd always simmer down. I'd always breeze into our room to chat. Sure, he made me mad sometimes, but he also made me feel special. Way special. We were bros. We were surfing bros. We shared a whole bunch of important stuff. We were soul buddies.

"When you go away..."

"Where am I going?"

"I dunno. But you might go away for some reason, like college or whatever. Can I sleep here in your... uh, I mean our room when you're away?"

"Sure, bro."

"Promise to leave it just like it is?"

"Promise."

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