With the exams over, we had only one more week of school before the start of the winter hols. But it wasn't 'til the end of that week that we'd receive our school reports, so the asshole teachers made sure we'd stay 'til the very last day.
Anyway, the upcoming hols had put everybody in a pretty cool mood, including Mark, so I decided to test the fucker during break. Kyle had earlier told me about their wrestling match in the gym that morning. According to my bro, Mark had tossed him around like a cork in a stormy sea.
"Hey, Conan! Heard you're into wrestling now. Wanna take on someone more your own strength?" It was a fucking conspiracy. Both Kyle and Mark grabbed me, and began to pummel the shit outa my arms, and gave me a couple of painful mouseys. "One day you guys are gonna have to watch your backs, 'cause I'll take you out one at a time." They didn't take my threat seriously, of course. They just laughed.
After school, I was really hanging for a surf, but we had our final rugger game for the season, so I had to play. Anyway, I enjoyed playing rugger. It gave me a chance to mix it with the guys, and get stuck into a bit of rough and tumble. As soon as the game was over, though, I was home, into my wettie, and running down to the beach with my stick under my arm.
Sure enough, all the guys were there, including Kyle and Sean. Sean and I were becoming pretty close buds and, that afternoon, we stayed in the water long after the other guys had gone home. It wasn't just surfing that Sean and I had in common… he was an ace skater, as well as a totally cool guy. We'd even jacked off together. It wasn't the same as it was with Kyle or Brian, but it was pretty damn neat. It happened one night when I was sleeping over at my blonde-haired bud's house.
"You always sleep in your boxers?" I asked as we got into bed.
"No. I just thought… well, do you?"
"I always sleep naked."
"So how come you're not naked?"
"'Cause you're not."
"So you wanna get naked?"
We both stripped, and I saw Sean's whopper for the first time. "Fucking hell! Is that why you were sleeping in boxers?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Don't act so fucking innocent, man. Your dick's fucking huge. You jack off?"
"All the time. All the guys do."
"In front of other guys?"
"Seems kinda weird."
I figured I was gonna have to take the lead, so, as we laid beside each other on his bed, I took my woody in my fist. "Try it, man. It's cool."
Sean apprehensively followed my example, and began to stroke his boner, which must've been as big as Kyle's… maybe even bigger. "Yeah," he grinned at last, "you're right. It is kinda neat watching another guy jack while I'm doing it."
"See? I told ya. It's way cool."
After leaving the surf fairly late that afternoon, and having dinner with my folks, I breezed into Kyle's room just to chill. He was wearing headphones and listening to music so, for a while, my jaw was flapping but he wasn't hearing a damn word I was saying.
"What are you talking about?" he asked as he removed the 'phones.
"I've got bruises from you and Mark."
"You're just lucky that Mark was in a good mood," he laughed, then replaced the 'phones in his ears. A moment later, after I'd shouted something else, he removed them again. "What?"
"You're lucky I'm not six inches bigger! That's what!"
"Where? In your boxers?"
"Nope… he's big enough."
Yeah, right. Kyle's was bigger, and so was Sean's. I was pretty proud of my dick, but it needed to grow a bit more before I'd be completely happy with it. On the other hand, it was bigger than Brian's.
"Can it wait?"
"No, it's really important."
Dad peered at me from over the top of his reading glasses. "OK, if it can't wait, what is it?"
"When does a guy's penis stop growing?"
"When I was your age, we called it a dick."
"We do, too."
"So why did you call it a penis?"
"'Cause you're my dad."
"What's that got to do with it?"
"Dad's are different. Aren't they? Anyway, when does it stop growing?"
"When you stop growing. How tall are you?"
"About 5' 4""
"Well, you've probably got another six inches to go."
"What about out?"
"Son," my dad smiled. "Boys your age are understandably concerned with dick size, but it's not something to be anxious about. In a few years from now, you won't even give it a second thought."
Yeah, right. Kyle gave it a second thought. And Steve gave it a second thought. And Sean… well he wasn't exactly hiding the fact that he had a whopper. Maybe my dad came from another planet or something. Maybe things were different when he was a teen.
The other thing that pissed me big time was that there was only so much you could ask your dad. Dads weren't like your buds. You could talk about all kinds of shit with your buds, but not with your dad. So what was it about dads that made them… different… different to other guys? It had to be marriage. Marriage made them go kinda weird.
Winter had come with a sudden vengeance to Cape Town. The north wind was howling, and it was raining like Noah was gonna start up a shipyard any minute. Normally, the rain wouldn't worry us surfers… hey, wet was wet… but the surf was a real storm chop. The only alternative was to ride the pavement.
A couple of my buds and I were skateboarding out front of my house when Kyle arrived home from Mark's place, where he'd stopped over on the way home from school.
"Hey! You guys are dressed like Eskimos."
"You mean Eskimos wear like baggy cargoes and surf sweats? Yeah, right."
After Kyle had gone inside, Sean said, "Your bud's pretty cool."
"Yeah, he's OK. Sticks to me like shit to a blanket. But, hey, I can handle it. Keeps him happy."
"Yeah, right. So how come he's inside the house and you're out here?"
"Hey, he needs his space, man."
"You're so fulla shit, Wingnut. Anyway, if you're so fucking pally with him, why didn't he invite us inside?"
"'Cause he's shy, that's why. He doesn't know you. Anyway, he's probably reading a book or something. He reads a lot. He'll come out later and invite us in. You'll see."
Well, it was getting kinda late, and Kyle hadn't emerged from his front door like I'd expected, so I had to take matters into my own hands. I kept my finger on the front doorbell until my bro finally answered.
"Hey, Kyle, can Sean and I come in for a while? I wanna show him our room."
"Yeah, our room. It's cool, Sean. Follow me." Kyle led the way, and I could hear him chuckling about something.
Well, Sean was totally blown away by my bro's room, with the surfboard on the wall, the posters, the CD player, the double bed, the desk, and all the other cool stuff.
"Hey, neat!" Sean gushed as he eyed one of the surfing posters. "I dig the poster!"
"Yeah, it's an original," I boasted as if it were my own. "Kyle got it signed by John Whitmore… the man."
"Awesome." Sean moved closer to the poster of 'Endless Summer' so that he could read Whitmore's autograph and comment. My grommet bud couldn't have made it more obvious that he was impressed. It was as though I'd invited him into some kinda exclusive inner-sanctum of the surfing world, where you had to be totally cool and in the know to be admitted.
A minute later, though, he'd turned into a scavenger, rifling through Kyle's CD collection as if he'd discovered a pirate's treasure chest, and only had a limited time to check out the contents. Then he settled, and became quite chatty, taking an interest in everything Kyle had to say. And I was just so damn proud of Kyle. Sean was proving that I had every reason to admire Kyle the way I did. And, hey, he was MY bud!
Next day, the sun was shining! Woohoo! After all the recent rain, it was just so damn wicked to see the sun again. Kyle and I ran down to the beach after school, and saw Sean there. Steve wasn't able to make it down for some reason. Anyway, I spent a lotta time trying to do 360s, something that Steve could do with ease. He was one of the local area's best surfers, and I wanted to be like him. Kyle, on the other hand, had given up trying 360s. He told me that it was too much fucking hassle, and that it was more fun just styling down the wave. But, for me, surfing wasn't only about riding the waves or spinning around in the air, it was about showing off, and having a whole bunch of groupies and grommets running up to you at the end of the day, and raving about how cool you were. Yeah, that was the kinda attention Steve got, and the kinda attention I wanted. Woohoo! That would be totally ace!
What wasn't totally ace was the fact that I was having a whole stack of trouble trying to perfect my 360s. Ninety percent of the time, the only thing that was in the air was my stick, while I was somewhere under the water surrounded by a zillion bubbles. Then I'd spend the next minute or so cussing enough to make the devil himself blush. But I was getting there. Slowly. But getting there.
After showering and washing my wettie at home, I hopped the fence, and breezed into 'our' room. "Hey, Kyle, can I tape some of your CDs?" I asked as I sat next to him on the side of his bed.
"Sure, but I've just gotten a message from Steph. I'm going over there for a while."
"She's horny, huh?" I didn't think what I'd said was all that funny, but it sure cracked up Kyle.
"She phone you, or did you phone her?"
"She phoned me."
"She's horny. Can I come over and watch?"
"Fuck off. It's not a sideshow."
"It could be. It'll be fun watching you trying to find that little white thing of yours, then trying to put it into that slippery pussy."
"You're fucking gross, Wingnut. But catch this." Without warning, he punched the sweet spot on my thigh.
"Ow! Fuck off, Kyle!" I complained as I tried to rub the pain away. "That is fucking sore!"
"Supposed to be."
"You're not fucking funny. I'm fulla damn bruises from you and Mark. So can I do some taping?"
"Yeah… should be OK. I'll get mom to check up on you to make sure you're not trashing my stuff."
"Har, har, har."
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