The weekend was pretty cool. Most of the time we surfed, but the water was so damn cold that we wore our wetties. Wetties were neat, and I was especially proud of mine, as well as thankful to Kyle for having bought it for my last birthday, but I still missed wearing boardies low on my hips, and getting all the groupies excited about my pubes and ass crack. Oh, well…
Saturday night, Kyle's folks had a barbecue for some of their friends. Kyle invited Steph, Steve, Mark, and Carol, but I opted out 'cause there'd be a whole bunch of adults there. The guys were cool, but adults had a way of saying shit like, "My! My! Just look at you! You're quite a young man now!" Or smiling at Candy and saying, "My! My! You look soooo cute!" Bleh! I needed that like a fucking rectum stuck to the middle of my forehead. So I took Candy to the movies.
I figured the movies was an ideal opportunity to pull the popcorn trick, so I bought one large bucket for both of us instead of two smaller ones. About half way through the movie, when I'd demolished the last of the popcorn, I carefully and quietly made a hole in the bottom of the carton, unbuttoned my fly, and placed the carton over my woody. Cool!
I waited for one of those boring parts you sometimes get in movies, then casually turned to Candy and asked, "You want some more popcorn?"
Damn! How come it worked for Kyle? Actually, when Kyle did it, it was Steve who put his hand in the carton, and not Steph. At the time, I couldn't figure out why Kyle and Steve were giggling so damn much.
After the movie, Candy and I played tonsil hockey at her front door, and once again, her hand disappeared down my cargoes while I fondled her tits. Nothing was said, of course, 'cause our mouths were like glued to each other. But it was like she was feeling my woody just to kinda check out the shape or something, and not actually wanting to do anything with it. What would she have done anyway? Blown me? Yeah, right. And what if…? Jeez! I wasn't ready to go sticking it in her pussy just yet. There was a whole bunch of stuff I needed to ask Kyle before I did anything that rad.
"Thanks for a great night, Wingnut. I really enjoyed it."
"Me, too. Laters. Oh... by the way..."
"What does it feel like? I mean... when you put your hand down my cargoes?"
"I dunno. Kinda funny 'cause it goes hard and stuff. It's neat, though."
Sunday was a rocker day in the surf, and I got some totally wicked rides. On the walk home with Kyle, I had my wettie top peeled down, and my stick under my arm.
"None of this would've happened if I hadn't met you."
"My stick, my wettie, surfing. All this totally cool stuff. Just think, I could've moved next door to some guy who was into fucking stamp collecting or whatever."
"You think we were meant to become buds?"
"And we're bros, right?"
"Doing anything tonight?"
"Backpedaling. I didn't dare tell my folks that I still had a couple of hours of homework to catch up on… else they wouldn't have let me go surfing."
"Me, too. How come parents don't understand their kids?"
"It's a chemical thingy. At a certain age, the chemicals that make you a kid disappear from your brain, and you become an adult."
"Is that gonna happen to us?"
On Monday after school, I popped in to Kyle's room to ask him if he could help me with some geometry theorems. "How come we have to study all this boring stuff?"
"We're not gonna be teens forever, I guess."
"But I want it to be like this forever, Kyle. I wanna be your bro forever. I don't want anything to change." Then I threw my arms around his neck, and pressed my cheek to his.
"Hey, bro! How the fuck am I supposed to help you with your damn theorems if you're gonna hang off me like a damn monkey?"
Kyle wasn't at school on Tuesday 'cause he had the flu big time. But, that afternoon after rugger practice, I had something totally cool to show him, so I kept my finger on his front doorbell like it was some kinda fire alarm. My rugger jersey was hanging down almost to my knees, and I wanted to surprise him.
"Jeez, you almost drove me nutty with that fucking doorbell!"
"Glad to see me?"
"Yeppo," he smiled, then sniffled and wheezed before he looked me up and down. "Fuck, bro, looks like you're naked!"
"Almost," I beamed, then lifted my jersey so that he could see that all I had on underneath was my jockstrap.
"Fucking hell! You walk all the way home like that?"
"Yeah… lost a bet with Brian. I was supposed to walk home with nothing underneath, but I told him that I haven't got a weenie like his."
"What was the bet?"
"I told him I'd score three tries at practice, but I only scored one."
Kyle's eyes checked out my legs. "Well, you look pretty buff… even like that."
I figured that's what he'd say. Kyle kinda admired me the way I liked to be admired. He was way cool, not like other guys. Other guys hardly gave me a second glance, unless it was to check out my dick in the showers, and then it was only 'cause they were jealous of my schlong. "Your timing's bad, Kyle. You should've gotten sick around Christmas, then you could've taken Rudolph's place in the reindeer pack."
"Har-de-fucking-har," he wheezed.
"Yeah… well you look pretty shitty. I guess the surf's out, huh?"
"I couldn't even walk to the beach, let alone paddle a board."
"Surf's up," I teased.
"Don't remind me."
"I'm going now. See ya." A few moments later, after I'd walked a couple of paces, I heard Kyle's voice again.
"Surf really big?"
"Nah," I grinned. "It's neat, though. Small, but with shape."
"If you see Steve, tell him I've got the flu. OK?"
After changing outa my rugger gear in my room, I phoned Steph to tell her that Kyle was sick. "He looks like shit. Maybe I should take his place for a while."
"Don't get your hopes up, Wingnut. Just 'cause I blew you doesn't mean I'm gonna do it every day of the damn week."
"Once a week's fine," I giggled.
"In your dreams, grommet. Anyway, thanks for telling me. I'll give him a call."
For the next few days, life just wasn't the same without walking to school and home again with my bro. Mark walked home with me a few times, but that wasn't the same either. When Kyle wasn't with us, Conan and I didn't seem to have much in common. It was almost like we were strangers with nothing much to talk about. I liked Mark a stack, and I was pretty sure he liked me, but for some reason, Kyle was the glue that held us all together, and that was missing.
One afternoon, I hopped the fence and discovered that Kyle's flu had gotten worse. He had bronchitis.
"I need you to breathe on me."
"Why? So that you can stay home from school?"
"It's fucking boring, dude."
"I can do other stuff."
"Like jack off all day?"
"Oh? So you know how to do other stuff as well?"
"I can beat you up."
I grabbed him and tried to pull him down onto the bed, but he resisted, probably 'cause he didn't have the energy to wrestle with me.
"Sorry, bro. But I think if you sat on my chest, I'd probably stop breathing or something."
"You should see a doctor."
"That's what my dad says, but I told him it was cool. Our medical aid only gives so much a year to my folks to use for normal doctor visits, so it's not worth wasting that on a damn cough."
"It's more than a cough, bro."
"I'll be OK."
"What about all your school work?"
"Mark's been coming around. He's keeping me up to date with assignments."
"We don't talk like we do when you're there."
"Yeah, well Mark sees you as my bud. He likes you, but it's not like you’re his bud, if you know what I mean. Don't take offence, bro."
"It's cool. No prob. Anyway, I'd rather be your bud."
Copyright © 2000 All rights reserved. mrbstories