I figured when I got back to Cape Town that I could set up my own travel agency, y'know... specializing in holidays to Johannesburg. "Your exciting itinerary includes getting beaten up by Mark in the garage, getting beaten up by scarface at work, and sanding wood 'til your pubes and cockhead are full of the damn stuff."
South Africa - Johannesburg #2
Part 47
Mark and I were relaxing by the pool that night when he interrupted my thoughts. "You're either very brave or very fucking stupid to take on one of those black guys."
"You mean scarface? I told him about you giving me boxing lessons, and we just kinda fooled around."
"Use your fucking head, bro. It lights up their fucking life to beat up a white boy like you. You're built, so you think you're strong... that is until you come up against one of those mothers."
Woohoo! Me? Built? That was quite a compliment coming from a guy like Mark. "Built?"
"Those guys see a muscular white boy who's too fucking big for his boots."
"You really think so?"
"They'll beat you up at the drop of a hat."
"Fuck that. That's not what I meant. You really think I'm built?"
"That's what they see."
"That's not what they said. That's what you said! You said I'm pretty built and muscular."
The hunk must've realized that I was fishing for compliments, so he decided to instantly deflate my ego. "You're putting it on again... getting back to being 15. Almost. You're just fucked-up ugly, though."
"Fingers doesn't think so."
"What would he know?"
"He's got pretty good taste in hunks. Ha ha! Gotcha!"
When I climbed out of the shower a little later, I couldn't fucking help staring at the reflection of my bod in the mirror. Mark was right. I was taking some shape, and it was definitely the result of all the running and training with Mark in the mornings. My abs were there... only just... but my gut was nice and flat, with those two oblique lines running from my hips to my blonde pubes quite obvious. I also noticed that my pecs, arms and shoulders were looking good. Hey, I even got a boner just from checking myself out! That piece of boy meat was looking pretty good, too. Rock-hard, solid, shiny muscle. :)
I stood there, waiting for ages for the damn thing to go down, but it didn't. Maybe it was making itself hard by staring at itself in the mirror. So I decided to flatten it against my gut, and wrap a towel tightly around my waist to keep the bulge from being noticed by Mark's prying eyes. I wasn't sure why I was suddenly hassled by the thought of Mark spotting my boner, but I was.
He was already in bed dozing when I entered the room. He had one arm above the covers, and it just made me even harder to see that strong, muscular limb with its smooth, tanned skin.
Next morning was much the same as the others, running, then boxing, but I was getting fitter, and I could feel it. My thighs were pumped, and my breathing was a lot easier as well. Hey, Codeman, check this out! Pretty awesome, huh?
After another routine of sweating my guts out with Mark, I decided to swim a few laps in the pool while he showered.
"Hi, bud!"
It was fantastic to hear Fingers' familiar voice again. He looked totally wicked. I was out of the pool in a second, and giving him a huge wet hug. No, I wasn't naked. I was wearing my own personal Speedos that I'd brought with me from Cape Town. Fingers' bod felt and looked terrific, like he'd been working out. Later I found out that he had been. Since I was last in Joburg, he'd been hitting the gym regularly, and lost the little fat that he used to have. Anyway, I hugged him so damn hard that I almost squashed him.
"It's just so fucking good to see you!" I beamed.
"I was hoping you wouldn't go back to Cape Town before I got home."
"No fucking way! I was fucked up when I arrived here, and Mark told me that you'd be gone for the whole damn week."
Later, in the kitchen, Mark joined Fingers and me while we were chatting... morning piss boner in his boxers and all. Mine was fine cos it was still squashed in my Speedos, and tangled around my pubes. :) Like it was in bondage or something hahahahaha!
"You wanna take the day off from work?" Mark asked.
"Thanks, bro, but no. Actually, I'm amped to get going cos I'm just so full of fucking energy!"
The other reason I didn't wanna take a day off work was cos Fingers had a bunch of office stuff he had to sort out after his trip, so if I'd stayed home it would've been a day wasted.
As it turned out, Mark was going out with his girlfriend that night, and said that I could spend the evening catching up with "the old man". Fuck! That suited me just fine. Actually, Mark didn't even stay for dinner. He had a shower, then left almost right away after telling us that he wouldn't be home 'til morning. Woohoo! I'd have Fingers all to myself all night!
Out by the pool, I helped Fingers stoke up the braai [barbecue] fire, then returned to the kitchen to make a small, green salad. He made a potato salad. Next, we got a couple of big, juicy steaks and prepped them by marinating them in red wine and a bunch of spices. And while all that was happening, I realized that I was standing there, falling in love with a guy more than twice my age. I didn't know exactly why. All I knew was that it was happening to me. I wanted him to touch me, and I wanted to touch him. So while he was working at the kitchen bench, I went behind him and put my arms around his solid bod, then let my hands find their way under his shirt to his warm stomach. His abs were smooth and hard to the touch. "Hey, you HAVE been working out!" I also noticed that he'd removed the little hair he'd previously had on his chest and stomach as well.
"I'd forgotten what it was like having you here in Joburg," he said after sucking in a deep breath. "You make me feel like I'm 16 again."
"Your bod feels tight. Heard you've been working out."
He turned to face me, so I pulled his head towards mine, and I kissed him. It took a second or two for him to allow my tongue into his mouth. After that, he just followed my lead.
He lifted my T over my head, and let it fall to the floor. Then his hands slowly moved down the length of my lats all the way to my narrow hips.
He makes me feel so fucking special, Gary. Nobody has done that since Code.
I didn't want him to stop kissing me or touching me, but eventually he pulled away. "I'd better attend to the fire or we'll starve," was his excuse.
After having checked out my bod the previous night in the bathroom mirror, and being pretty pleased with what I saw, I decided to remain shirtless while I stood next to him as he tended the fire. The radiant heat from the dancing flames warming my bare, tanned skin felt really great. Kinda soothing. And watching him work was also a great pleasure. He had a certain confidence about him - an aura that made you admire the dude.
A few minutes later, I went into the house to fetch us each a beer. "So take off your shirt," I said as I handed him a chilled can.
"It's OK. Later, maybe."
"You embarrassed about your bod or something? This is Steve here! HELLO?"
Suddenly, his air of confidence vanished; replaced by the look of a shy little kid who'd just been busted raiding the cookie jar. "I've removed all my body hair. Ever since you've been home in Cape Town I've been doing that."
"Why?"
"Forget it, Steve. It's stupid."
"You figure it's stupid cos you're trying to be 18 all over again? Scared I'm going to laugh at you? Anyway, I felt it - your smooth skin - when I had my hand inside your shirt." And with that I began to undo his shirt buttons. "Take the fucking thing off so I can check you out."
Woohoo! He'd obviously been working out a lot since I was last there. His pecs were more defined, and there was little or no fat on his bod. Even his abs were visible when he moved. I ran the back of my hand up his stomach, then to his chest. He'd used hair remover, so there was virtually no sign of hair except for under his arms.
"Feels pretty wicked," I said as I continued to run my fingers over his smooth skin. "You're looking fucking good, too. Hey, you looked good before."
"Sucking up to an old guy, huh?"
"Hey, that can be arranged, too! So what's up or down?" I laughed, even though I'd realized how stupid my joke was as soon as it had left my mouth. Meantime, he was being all fucking serious.
"When you left here the last time, I couldn't get you out of my head. Every night, every morning, every day, all I thought about was you and how I could have you live with me, and what I could do about it. I was almost in a state of depression about it. It took a long time to get over you, Steve. And now? All those warm wonderful feelings of love are rushing back like a swirling, out-of-control flood. I want you so desperately, but I can't have you."
"Says who?"
"You know what I mean, Steve. Maybe for you I'm just someone to play with, and have play with you, but each time we're together I fall madly in love with you, and I know that's not possible."
"I know that," I agreed. "But I do, too... love you, I mean. At least, I think it's love. Feels kinda weird. I feel comfortable with you, and I can say stuff to you, and you'll listen to me. You're only the second guy I've ever kissed... for now, hahahaha!" My laughter couldn't hide the stinging tears in my eyes, though. I couldn't understand what was happening to me. I couldn't fathom it. But I kept talking. "I can speak to you about stuff that I can't talk to anyone else about."
"Your sexuality?"
"And other stuff. Truth? I don't know where I'm headed. I've been high most of the time since Cody died. I'm fucking scared of where I'm going. Or maybe it's like I don't know where I'm going. I get like this - confused - and I need a fix cos I can escape from this feeling of confusion. Then I get the downers and I get sick, and I want to crawl into a deeper hole to escape. And that makes me feel like another fix. And then another. I was shot up by some dealers when I arrived home from the last Joburg trip. H. Thought I was gonna die. But what was even more scary was realizing afterwards that I enjoyed the high."
"So what are you doing about it?"
"Just going cold. I have to handle it on my own. Smoke a J sometimes, and it helps me to get over a little hump."
"And the big humps?"
"Sometimes too big."
"Speak to your folks?"
"Yeah. My dad beat the crud outta me."
"Stop lying, Steve. Mark told me the same story you told him over the phone... about the boxing match with your dad."
"Yeah, so I'm a liar," I said, biting my lip to avoid snarling at him. I hated being second guessed.
"Is it so hard to let your dad get close? Is that the real reason you like me so much? Think I could be your dad? I want to be your friend, Steve. Sounds to me like your dad is desperate for you to be his son."
"If you wanna be my friend, then stop finding fucking excuses for him. He's had 18 fucking years to be my dad."
"OK, I'll stop talking about him. But don't try and treat me like a dad. OK?"Copyright © 2002 All rights reserved. mrbstories
