South Africa
Part 85

Everybody was getting pretty excited about the 2000 Olympics... especially Kyle 'cause he had a friend in Australia.

"Who is he?"

"Just a guy I've known for a few years... an email buddy. We write each other a stack. Sometimes he's pretty busy, though, so his secretary answers my email. She's a trained kangaroo."

"Yeah, right, Kyle. Is this National Crap Week or something? You serious?"

"Yep."

"So how come you're smiling? Anyway, kangaroos can't type."

"His can."

"OK, so what kinda stuff does it write?"

"Truth? Actually, it's a helluva lot smarter than he is."

Anyway, a lotta the talk amongst the swim team was about Ian Thorpe, an Aussie swimmer they called 'Thorpedo'. The dude had size 17 feet, and we figured he probably had a dick to match, which explained why he was so damn fast... he used his dick as an extra foot.

But the guy we were all rootin' for was Terence Parkin, a Safrican swimmer whose deafness could've made him elegible for the Paralympics, but Terence chose to compete in the able-bodied Olympics. We were at school when the word got around that Terence had won a silver medal in the 200m breast-stroke. Everybody went totally ballistic. Terence was known at our school, and he'd always been an inspiration to the swim team. But the way the students were going on, you would've sworn that he'd won seven gold medals in a row!

I couldn't wait to tell Kyle and Mark. Woohoo! Mark said that he had a lotta admiration for Terence for what he'd done, and for the standards he'd set for the younger dudes who looked up to him. Kyle and Mark had seen him at a few swim meets. "He's fucking awesome to watch, yet he's so laid back."

"Yeah, like me."

"Fuck off, Wingnut."

On Wednesday night, we all went for pizza. It was like a party 'cause we pushed three tables together. Mark wasn't working that night.

"How come you ordered pasta?"

"If you worked in a pizza restaurant, you'd understand. I've seen enough pizza to last a fucking lifetime."

It was a totally cool evening with all of us there... Kyle and Steph, Mark and Carol, Steve and Tammy, Sean and his girl, me and Candy, Jumbo and his girl - a white girl who was a total doll. Ross and Kev from the swim team were there as well. Apparently Ross had had a helluva fight with his girlfriend 'cause I could hear him telling Mark all about it.

At one stage, Sean caught my eye, and tossed his head toward the door. I knew exactly what he was on about, so I followed him outside, where we shared a joint.

"Kyle's gonna gimme a fucking earful about this."

"He's got x-ray vision or something?"

"He doesn't need it. He knows me like the back of his hand."

"I dunno why you hang with the dude. Why don't you just tell him to fuck off?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"You afraid he's gonna tell your folks?"

"He wouldn't do that. We're bros. Anyway, we've got lots of secrets we don't tell anybody else about."

"Like what?"

"I just told you... they're secrets."

"He's too old for you anyway."

"Says who?"

"He's eighteen, man."

"So's Conan, and I get along fine with him. You're just jealous 'cause you don't have any older friends. Besides, Kyle's folks are kinda like my second family. They treat me like a son. They even treat Conan like a son. You don't understand that kinda thing 'cause it's never happened to you."

We returned to the restaurant after about fifteen minutes. Kyle gave me a dirty look, but he didn't say anything. Then everybody ordered beers, while Sean and I had to settle for sodas. Sean threw a wobbly, and explained that he was allowed to drink beer at home.

"This ain't home," Kyle interjected.

Then Ross stood, and proposed a toast to Terence Parkin, which we all thought was tops.

Once we'd walked all the girls home -- except for Carol 'cause she was sleeping over at Mark's -- it was just Kyle and me heading back to his place.

"Hey, Kyle, don't sweat it. OK?"

"Sweat what?"

"I saw the look you gave me when I came back with Sean. I was OK. I know you worry about me all the damn time... and Sean's a pretty nice guy. You always seem to be giving him a hard time whenever he says something."

"Not really. But, yeah, I do worry."

"Hey, Kyle, I thought the other day was pretty special, and I'd like to do that again. Just you and me together like that. I know it sounds kinda weird, but you make me feel really special."

"You are special, buddy. You just don't see it sometimes. You don't need to use shit to escape from yourself. Try to be your own guy."

We were still chatting, standing by his gate, when he put his hand against my crotch, and felt the bulge in my chinos.

"You still horny after that tongue lashing you and Candy gave each other?"

That night I jacked off thinking about Kyle and me... and there was a helluva lot to think about, including those times when he'd had his full, fleshy lips wrapped around my woody. They weren't blow jobs, but they could've been. Why did he stop? Anyway, it was for sure and certain that there was only one guy who knew me better than anyone else. My bro. When I was with him, naked in his room, I could be myself, totally. He understood my body, my desires and needs, and I understood his. It wasn't like that with Candy. Sure, we fooled around, but it wasn't anywhere near as open and uninhibited as it was with Kyle and me. And Sean? My relationship with him wasn't sexual. We'd jacked each other a couple of times, but it freaked him out. Maybe he had a complex about his big, donkey schlong.

Nope, there was only one person I knew who could make me feel really special. Kyle. Other people, like Candy and her friends, admired my bod, but not the same way my bro did. He knew every fucking square inch, every bulge, every contour, every line and crease. And just as importantly, he knew what was going on inside my head, as well as my heart.

The other day, after we'd jacked each other, and I'd asked him to hold me for a little while, that was just so damn wicked, feeling the warmth of his bod, and his arms around me. Who else did that kinda thing? Nobody. Only Kyle. He understood what the word 'bro' meant. It had nothing to do with being born of the same womb. Jeez, Brian and Alan had the same mom, but that's all they had in common. Nope, being the kinda bros Kyle and I were was about wanting to be bros... about sharing all kinds of neat stuff... about not being afraid to be who you really were... about not having to be perfect... about making mistakes and still being bros... about having fights and making up afterwards.

On the last day of school before Spring Break, Kyle invited a bunch of us to his house for a swim and a few beers that afternoon. He'd made plans to spend a couple of days up the Garden Route, and visit Nick, that dude he'd met when Mark and I joined Kyle and his folks for a holiday there a few months back. Mark was gonna visit his real dad in Johannesburg, Steph was going away with her folks, and Steve was off to Durban to fuck everything in sight. So our gathering at Kyle's place was like some kinda mini farewell.

There was no surf, so I asked Sean if he wanted to come.

"He doesn't like me."

"So how's he gonna learn to like you if you don't come? Anyway, it's not that he doesn't like you, he just worries about me, that's all. I already told him you're a nice guy."

"Nice? You told him I was nice?"

"So I lied. Sue me."

During the mini farewell, a lotta the guys went for a short walk to have a smoke, including Sean and me. We all knew better than to puff away at Kyle's place.

"I don't get it, Wingnut. Mark smokes, Steve smokes, most of the guys on the swim team smoke. So how come Kyle gives you a hard time?"

"He knows it doesn't stop at smoking."

"How come you tell him everything?"

"'Cause he's my bro. Hey, did you see Jumbo in those black Speedos? And you think you've got a donkey dick?"

"I didn't notice."

"Yeah, right. I've seen it in the showers at school, man. Unbe-fucking-lievable."

"What is it with you? You've got dicks on the brain. Anyway, what's this 'bro' shit you're always on about with Kyle?"

"You had to be there."

"Yeah? Well, I wouldn't want some older guy telling me what to do."

"It shows."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Next morning, I hung over the fence to ask Kyle if he wanted to hit the surf, but he said he owed his dad, and had a stack of chores to take care of. "I'll see you down there later. OK?"

On Sunday, Kyle worked at a neighbor's -- doing the garden, cleaning the yard, and shit. She was an old biddy, and didn't pay much, but Kyle liked doing work for her. That was one of Kyle's probs... generous to a fault.

Later, after he'd gone with his dad and Mark to the airport to see Mark off to Johannesburg, he joined us for a surf.

"You treat Mark like one of the family... driving him to the airport and stuff."

"He is one of the family."

"Is he your bro, too?"

"Yep."

"Same as me?"

"Nope. Different."

"How?"

"Yours and my secrets are different to Mark's and mine. Can you believe that one of the last things Mark told me at the airport was to stay outa trouble? Who? Me?"

"You really dig him, huh?"

"A stack."

On the Monday night, before Kyle was due to head up the Garden Route next morning, and before I was gonna leave to sleep over at Sean's, I gave Kyle a huge hug and told him I was gonna miss him big time.

"Hey, don't stress. I'm gonna try and stay away from the shit."

"Try?"

"No... I'll do it, Kyle... for you. You're gonna be proud of me. Watch."

"Hope so, bud. Look after yourself."

Copyright 2000 All rights reserved. mrbstories


 

Kyle and Nick Story

 Wingnut Part 86