One of the things I'd noticed about Kyle's friends -- and which was impossible not to notice -- was that they all had fucking awesome pecs. Mine were pretty cool, too, but not as well developed as their's. Ross and Mark were on Kyle's swim team, and both guys looked as though they came outa some high-class magazine -- not like the body builder's type -- ew! I hated all those fucking veins and shit -- more like a teen fitness mag or something like that.
South Africa
Part 17
And there was something special about the way they held themselves -- upright and proud -- happy to parade their tanned, well-defined bods around to anybody who cared to notice -- and there was never a shortage of peeps who liked to gawk at them.
I'd often stand in front of my mirror in my room and pose, pumping my muscles to see if they'd grown a bit since the day before. The surfing was definitely helping -- especially the paddling -- my biceps and lats were getting really pronounced. Yep, for a guy going on twelve, I was pretty damn hunky.
"Dad? Have you noticed anything?"
He bowed his head and peered over the top of his reading glasses. "Yep." Then he returned his attention to the newspaper.
How fucking infuriating! My dad loved to tease me, sometimes. "Like what?"
Without glancing up from his paper, he said, "your boardshorts are almost falling off."
"I'm being serious here, dad..."
"So am I. If you keep running around like that, every girl in town's gonna be banging on the front door."
"'Cause of my muscles?"
"At least one of them."
"Well, I was just wondering if you'd noticed how the surfing had improved my fitness. I was looking in the mirror and..."
Dad put his paper on his lap and removed his reading glasses. "The mirror will tell you certain things, son, but it won't tell you everything. It doesn't reflect your character or personality -- and they are the two things that are most important to develop. They will still be evident long after your physical shine has lost its luster."
"Your father's right, son," mom agreed as she entered the living room. "Take Kyle, for example. He's physically a fine specimen of a young man, but what's really appealing about him is his personality. Do you understand what I mean?"
"Yeah, mom, you're saying that even if he was skinny or fat he'd still be cool."
"Exactly."
"And if you were fat, dad would've still married you. Right, dad?"
Well, my folks suddenly found other things to occupy their minds after I'd said that, so I figured being physically fit was just as important as everything else. And, anyways, what was the point of having a cool bod if you couldn't flaunt the fucking thing? I was tempted to ask my folks if the groupies would wet their panties over a guy's character, but I figured that kinda question wasn't appropriate for a guy going on twelve.
I was dressed in jeans and a t when I visited Kyle the next day. "Hi ya, Kyle! Can I come in for a bit?"
"A bit of what?"
"Peanut butter! You make cool toasted sandwiches."
"Well, I set my watch for like forty five minutes 'cause my brain gets fried from studying, and I have to eat. I'm a growing lad, so my mom keeps saying."
"Yeah, so I see," I laughed as I eyed his boxers. "Can I read the comics?"
"Huh?"
"Just joking. You're not wearing the Garfield boxers I gave you."
"They're in the wash. Mom bought these for me. Besides, yours distract me when I'm trying to study 'cause of the comics. Pretty cool, huh?"
"Yeah." He was wearing Jockey cotton boxers with a button front. "How come you always study nude or in boxers?"
"Dunno. It's just me, I guess -- if it's warm enough."
"Do you think you'd study nude if you were skinny or fat?"
"How the fuck would I know? What kinda question is that?"
"Just wondering. Do girls ever say anything about your personality?"
"Not while they're blowing me. You wanna sandwich?"
"Cool."
"Just lemme finish what I'm doing. Put my headphones on and listen to music for a while."
Just before I had to leave, Kyle asked me why I hadn't been surfing. "I've heard the surf is up," I complained, "but I can't go 'cause I've got homework as well."
"So what are you doing here?"
"Mom said it was OK if I wasn't too long. Besides, I wanted to know what you thought of me dressed in jeans and a t, instead of in my boardies. It's a kinda test thingy."
"A test for what?"
"To see if I've got personality when you can't see my bod."
"Well, Wingnut, you've got personality to burn," he grinned. "But I've gotta tell ya, those jeans are hugging your legs like they were a second skin. And even though your t is a couple of sizes too big, it hangs off your pecs and away from your stomach, and it actually shows off your cool shape."
"My shape is cool?"
"You fucking know it is, you cheeky little bugger. Now piss off before I whack you around the chops with my boner."
"You wouldn't do that."
"Wouldn't I?"
It'd been a few days since Kyle had plucked my first pube. I'd had three when I showed Steve while we were surfing, but on this particular day -- woohoo! Six! They were only little ones, nowhere near as long or curly as Kyle's, but they were coming! As I sat on my bed studying them, I wished I had one of those flute thingies that snake charmers use. I could blow that pipe and watch my pubes coming out of nowhere, one after the other, like tiny, black worms.
School went so damn slow that day 'cause I couldn't wait to show Kyle. I must've gone to the toilet half a dozen times to see if another pube had appeared. Nope. But six was totally fucking cool! I'd only just arrived home when I jumped the fence and charged into Kyle's room.
"Check this out, Kyle!" I dropped my shorts and pointed to my cock.
Kyle folded his books as if to surrender his study to more important stuff. He made a close inspection of my groin, then stood up.
"Hey! What the fuck are you doing?" I was sure he was gonna try to pluck another pube. "I swear, Kyle, if you try to pull them out, I'm gonna crush your nuts!"
He lunged at me before I could side-step and threw me onto the bed. I was wriggling and giggling like crazy but when he tried to grab one of my pubes, I started to get a boner. It wasn't like I wanted to, it just happened. Anyway, I closed my fist around his nuts and started to squeeze. I was still cracking up, but I was determined not to let him rob me of my new pride and joy. "I swear, Kyle! I'll crush them!"
I saw Kyle's eyes beginning to water. It was obvious that the fucker knew I meant business, so he released his grip on me and rolled off. I quickly pulled up my shorts and jumped him. "C'mon! I wanna wrestle!"
I heard something crash to the floor, then realized that my legs had sent his school bag flying. The asshole was too strong for me. He pinned me to the bed but I managed to get my legs in a scissor grip around his waist. My legs were pretty strong from playing rugger, so I squeezed his guts for all I was worth. "Hey, Kyle, it's OK, man. You can give up anytime you want."
I could tell that he was in pain from my scissor grip, but there was a look of fierce determination on his face. "Yeah, right!" He lifted me and got me into a bear hug. Damn, his arms were so fucking strong I just couldn't stand the pressure any longer, and had to relax my grip on his gut.
"OK, OK, Kyle! Enough already!" I wheezed with barely enough air in my lungs to last another second. "Shit! I give in!"
After that, though, we both laid on the bed laughing our tits off. Kyle was such a fucking fun dude to be with. He ruled big time.
"Hey, Wingnut, you gotta learn, bro," he giggled, "you fight with the best, you die with the rest, you little bugger."
"So when are we gonna go surfing?"
"Maybe Saturday or Sunday. I've got exams."
"Me, too."
Kyle made some sandwiches and we just sat on his bed munching away while we checked out some of his old surfing mags. It was just so damn cool to be with Kyle. And you know something? He had a smell about him that was kinda neat. I never told him about that 'cause he'd probably think I was outa my tree or whatever. But whenever we wrestled or even just sat together, I could smell him, and I liked it a stack.
"Dad? Does mom smell?"
I got the old peering-over-the-top-of-the-reading-glasses and raised-eyebrows trick again. "Smell?"
"Yeah, you know... does she have a kinda mom smell... like a special smell that nobody else has?"
"If she does, you should know. You live here, too."
"Yeah, but it's an interpretation thingy."
"That's a big word."
"I'm going on twelve, remember."
"Well, I think I understand what you mean, son. Yes, individuals have an individual smell... and, depending how you feel about them, it can be very attractive. On the other hand, it can be rather offputting."
"But you like mom's smell, right?"
"You seem to be asking the most unusual questions lately."
"Hey, dad, I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm like going through puberty."
"That's ages away yet, son."
"Wanna bet? I've got pubes."
"Pubes?"
"Six."
"Six?" Dad took off his glasses and gazed at me as if I'd told him I'd gotten a girl pregnant or something.
"One, two, three, four, five, six. Maybe seven now, 'cause I haven't checked for a while."
"What's this about six?" mom asked as she entered the room.
"Our son is going through puberty."
"Yeah, mom, I've got pubes! Six already!"
"Oh, my God! Where has the time gone? Are you sure?"
"Well, I'd show you but you're a girl. Kyle's seen them, though. You can ask him."
Mom collapsed on a chair and stared at dad for a moment. "He's growing up! Can you believe it? Our baby!"
"Hey, mom. Do you like the way dad smells?"Copyright © 1999 All rights reserved. mrbstories
