Discovering Love

Discovering Love

Prologue

At the time of this story I'd pretty much decided our culture didn't include me. When listening to those who condemn me and those like me, I couldn't figure out how they were so sure of the facts they use to condemn so many to eternal damnation for failing to fit the neat little mold they promote. Then I remembered what my Great Aunt Marie told me when I was twelve,

"There are only two kinds of people, those who say they are good and those who get caught."

It's one of the few pieces of information I was given about sex and sexuality that I haven't forgotten or dismissed as poppycock. She only mentioned this reality after she realized I had overheard a group of good church going women talking about the rape of a young girl I knew and how she had brought it on herself by being attractive and dressing to show herself off. It seemed to me righteous church ladies were nearsighted at best.

When I was first confronted with exploring my sexuality, I embraced the opportunity. Since I could never be acceptable, why make the effort? I was more interested in finding out the truth about myself. I didn't have time to play pretend games in order to convince people who didn't give a damn about me that I was like them.

I do remember a time when the biggest worry for boys was rejection or an inability to get it up at the appropriate time, a problem I've yet to encounter, although if there is a converse, I am he. The only other big question that plagued me in those days of discovery, who eats brussel sprouts anyway?

Mostly I wanted to love and to be loved and being fifteen didn't much matter to me. In my mind I had been alone and lonely for long enough. If you doubt me on this, try it for fifteen years and judge for yourself. When I first saw Greg, I knew the drought was over and he was the boy I would fall in love with, and I love him still.

It all started after school while I was walking on a road that took me to my neighborhood, but in reality I was about to enter the Twilight Zone where I would find Greg waiting for me, and our lives would never be the same.

Discovering Gregory

Chapter 1

Hit By A Brick

It was a lazy spring day that followed a too long winter. It was the kind of day when you enjoy walking and noticing that everything around you is coming alive with brilliant green colors. I was walking up the gravel section of Schultz Road that led into my subdivision and to my house when I first saw him coming toward me from the opposite direction. He was a new boy and he was walking with a guy I knew, Alfred.

Alfred was old townie and I was newer townie and we didn't run in the same circles even though we'd lived within a hundred yards of each other all of our lives. I lived in one of the older housing developments that had sprung up as a convenient suburb and he lived on a hill on the edge of that development, and it was once his family's farm. One of the streets even carried his family name but names were all that was left of the once numerous family farms in that section of the county.

My people came from the city and chose this quiet suburb as the place where they wanted to raise their family. My parent's interests usually took them back to the city quite often and I learned I had nothing in common with the sons of farmers that did not know the land themselves, or if they once did they no longer had the farm to work.

I'd been taught in elementary school that I was an outsider. By the time I went to junior high school, the outsiders outnumbered old townies by two-to-one, and so I found my own groups to run with and never considered the farm boys my friends. I imagine the view from their perspective resembled my own in reverse. What would we have in common? The answer until this day was nothing at all. Today there was the fresh scrubbed new boy in perfectly faded jeans and tapered white T-shirt. I'd never seen a boy like him or jeans filled quite like he filled those. It was as though he had walked out of a dream.

It was his eyes that I noticed first - not Alfred's, the new kid's. I've never seen eyes quite like those, and so there seemed to be a pattern developing. I couldn't keep my eyes off of him and I'd never before had an experience like this. Once we were too close to find a way of avoiding some interaction, there came this silent understanding that we were going to stop and talk, but we would do a slow posturing first.

His eyes were so rich a blue that no combination of colors in your crayon box could ever hope to duplicate it. It wasn't just the color. It was what he made me feel when he held them on me. And he held them on me. It's as though he was looking through me, into the depths of my soul, and I prayed he could not tell what I was thinking. As he drew closer he stared, causing my eyes to become hopelessly lost in his. I stopped while they were still ten feet away. I found myself standing there waiting for him to walk into my life, and protocol would dictate they now must stop as well.

There was this knowing little smile that came to him before we'd ever spoken a single word. I don't know what he thought he knew but the smile was more a smirk. It curled his sensual lips upward with an expressiveness that spoke volumes, and it said he knew something about me that I didn't know about myself until I saw him. I thought, somehow this new boy knows what's on my mind.

There was a scar half way between his lower lip and chin. It was an inch long and a quarter of an inch wide, running at a sharp angle to just below his lower lip. On most people the scar would have been a deformity, but on him it only served to mildly filter his intense good looks. It added character to his flawlessness.

It shocked me to be having the thoughts I was having about someone I'd never seen before. I knew there was something seriously wrong with me at that moment, but it didn't end the stares and the thoughts. If he knew what I was thinking why wasn't he kicking my ass?

My heart jumped in some sudden betrayal of my feelings as we all shifted from one foot to another after we got within a few feet of one another. The new kid and I continued to be locked together with our eyes. If they hadn't stopped, I don't know what I'd have done. After they came to a halt, I became certain that they could hear my racing heart.

Alfred started to talk and the new kid stood too close behind him, still wearing that knowing smirk while he took advantage of his height, or Alfred's lack of it, so he could look over top of Alfred's head at me.

"Where you headed, Martin?" Alfred said, being the most he'd said to me at one time since we were about nine.

"Home," I said in a brilliant if brief retort.

"Haven't seen you around none. Where you been?" Alfred had become a real conversationalist since entering high school.

"School mostly. Not much to do over the winter."

"Yeah!"

"I'm Martin."

I reached my hand out as an invitation. I was ready to risk the instant rejection I always avoided so that I could learn more about the new boy. My eyes stayed in his through the entire unsettling event.

Alfred looked at the hand that was extended out beyond his elbow, and Greg looked at it far longer than it should have taken to take it and shake it. I'm sure I was turning red from the embarrassment of having my one arm hanging out uselessly in front of me for what seemed like an eternity. He finally shook it, taking his eyes out of mine long enough to inspect it first, and then he curled his fingers into mine.

If his absolute beauty hadn't been enough to set me on fire, the feel of his hand sure was. I loved his touch. I halfway expected his macho grip to squeeze me into submission, but the shake was an unexpectedly gentle affair. His hand was strong and soft at the same time. The brainstorm he created inside of me sent electricity through my body. Our handshake ended several long seconds before our hands went there separate ways.

Alfred seemed to become aware of us all at once. He was the middleman in an event that none of us could have foreseen. By chance I had met my love and Alfred had become a catalyst but at the time he was only recognizing the fact that neither of us was paying any attention at all to him.

"Greg, my name is Greg."

The voice was perfect. It sang his words into my ears.

"You're new!" I said in an understatement of the obvious.

"We live on Old highway. I'm Air Force. We lived on the airbase until we moved up there."

"You go to our school?"

"Yeah! He's in some of my classes. That's how I met him," Alfred interjected.

"Pop's a Colonel - stationed over at the base. I went to school over there until I got transferred over here last month. Not enough girls over there. Plenty of discipline, but I like it the other way around."

"We're going up to his house to shoot some pool. He has a pool table in his basement. Ain't that neat, Martin?"

"Yeah!" I said. "Neat!"

He was gone after that.

He walked away as quickly as he walked into my life. He seemed oblivious to what was just started, but I knew my life would never be the same. My stomach followed my heart into turmoil while I watched him march up the road, and he seemed to be walking out of my life as casually as he'd walked into it. The emptiness he left me with there was confusing. I guess I'd met a million people before that day and not one of them had much affect on me at all.

As I stood there alone in the middle of the road I couldn't take my eyes off him. The way his ass filled every bit of fabric in his jeans gave new definition to the front of my own. He more swaggered than walked. This boy had the world by the balls and he knew it. He was way older and way wiser than I was.

They were talking as I stood immobilized. I wasn't going to take my eyes off him until he disappeared. When they got a suitable distance away from our meeting place, Greg took a look back over his shoulder at me. He knew I would still be watching him and I knew he'd turn to check to see if I was still watching him. It left me disgusted with myself for letting him catch me standing there like some goofball, totally captivated by him. His head was cocked slightly to one side, and there was that smirk back on his face. Once he saw what he was looking for, he turned his head away in a flash as though he didn't cared about it at all, and he didn't look again.

I felt like a fool. I didn't know what was wrong with me, but I couldn't get his face out of my brain and it made me sick to my stomach. I made up my mind I didn't like Greg. He was everything I hated about guys. He was arrogant and cocky and hung up on himself, and not only that, he seemed to know exactly what I was thinking.

He was dangerous and I'd avoid him if I could. What he made me feel could get me into more trouble than I was ready to get into. I only knew one gay boy at school, and he was up against it all the time. Everyone picked on him. The boys despised him when they found out he was gay and the teachers despised him for not standing up for what he was. I could see that was a double edge sword that cut you either way you went and I'd avoid it if I could.

That night I woke up seeing Greg's eyes. He seemed like this gigantic cat, watching the mouse he was about to eat, waiting for just the right time to pounce. I'd never met anyone so self-confident or self-assured, but I lived in a small town, and as much as I needed to know about him, I couldn't afford to take the risk. Greg was someone I needed to leave alone.

I didn't have a clue why I was thinking about him. I'd met the guy once and everything I knew about him told me he was a prick. We hadn't exchanged two dozen words, but it wasn't the words I was worried about. He seemed to know plenty about me. He knew more about me than I knew about myself. He thought he was in control but I wasn't going to get caught playing his game. I was smart enough to know better.

I always wondered why I hadn't chased after girls the way my friends did. They disappeared from our group one by one, each finding a girlfriend until I was the only one left. Only I never developed an interest in girls. Maybe I was a late bloomer, or maybe meeting Greg told me everything I needed to know about why. I was a loner now and it was best to keep it that way. I didn't want anyone to know me too well and especially I didn't want anyone to know more about me than I did.

Greg invaded my brain when I was least able to prevent it. I would wake in the middle of the night with his eyes, lips, and that chin scar figuring vividly into my dreams. The other thing that nagged me was the imprint in his jeans on the right side of his leg. Its definition was remarkable for a clothed boy and that image frequently woke me out of sound sleep for purposes best left untold.

Why this got my attention more than other things I noticed about him, I wasn't sure. I took a passive interest in the boys in the showers after gym. I made sure I got a locker close to the boys I found most intriguing. Some guys popped a woody from time to time in the shower, though I'd only witnessed half-woodys in my classes. Thank heaven I was never one of those who became suspect once they hit wood while cavorting about with other naked red-blooded adolescents.

There was always talk that so-and-so had gotten on a hard. To do it a second time was the kiss-of-death if the first time didn't do it. You became persona-non-grata even amongst your best friends while at school. No one dared to befriend such a randy lad without fearing the label would become his as well. Adolescence wasn't a good time to part with your peers on such things as a woody in the shower. While they all seemed overjoyed to see one, once the novelty wore off the questions were still left to be asked.

I had a certain interest in my friends as they matured. I'd never been overly curious - just comparing notes in my own way, when we were of an age when boys like to talk and brag about what they've done and with whom. These activities never led to anything but a need to relieve the tension once I got home after an evening of hearing about how my friends were getting laid. Now I was waking at night with only one thing on my mind.

Upon discovery I'd always masturbated to one degree or another. At first it was as often as I could find privacy. Then it was once a day because it needed to be done, no matter what was said in Sex-Ed or amongst the teenagers who claimed to know blind boys with hands filled with warts. I would need to take my chances if I hoped for a few hours of sleep each night. I'd monitored my hands carefully and saw an eye doctor more than most.

After a couple of years, it became upon wake-up, and before retiring, as needed all other times. Greg's presence in my brain had altered my timing on this and I found him interrupting my sleep night after night. I'd wake long before dawn and go at it until I was worn down, using his face until it finally faded, that sneer of his, the bulging in his jeans, those eyes, all used to get me where I needed to go.

For the first time there was a face and a person attached to the fantasy that now powered my fist. The most worrisome thing was that the image of him did not leave me alone when the relief came. For the first time I couldn't depend on once being enough to cause me to drift on wings of ecstasy and toward a few more hours of sleep with messy weapon still in hand. Greg was having his way with me whenever he cared to visit my brain.

At fifteen I knew a secret about myself that no one else knew. That's to say that no one else could possibly be certain of it. I certainly hadn't been certain of it until I met Greg. For the first time in my life I was left to question my sexuality and my feelings about another boy, and then deciding there was no question at all.

I knew fifteen was a bit late to start going through a stage of any duration. There were no provisions at school for any oddly colored stages. While I stole glances of naked guys because it excited me in a mild way, it wasn't the same as dreaming about getting Greg out of those skintight jeans and next to me naked in my bed, or his - I was easy. The evidence was mounting and I was already feeling guilty. I had never once lusted after girls and now I could no longer say that about boys.

When faced with the truth it's best to yield or you risk living a lie.

Discovering Gregory

Chapter 2

The Military Presence

A section of brick houses went up next to the main drag in town a couple of years ago. That's where the military families started to move. At first the kids of the military families went to school on the base but slowly they were infiltrating my school. I was only aware of their presence because from time to time I would hear one of them talking about living overseas. On my way home from school I started examining the new houses where I knew they lived. I also noticed the boys that played together on the streets in front of them. It was the first exciting thing that had happened since the flood of '76 when I was just starting school.

I was part of the first invasion of city dwellers who decided suburban living was the way to go. One by one the housing developments had razed the farms, leaving the farmers without their fields. This put us on the outs with the townies. Invariably the farmers were poor men that managed to get by working their little plots of land. One day the bank came and told them the land had been sold and they'd be compensated for their loss. It didn't endear the first wave of invaders to the locals.

Guys like Alfie were too young to have known farm life very well, but they still held a grudge because their father's did. I'd never mingled with them although they sat beside me in classes and roamed the halls of the same school. Seeing Alfred with Greg indicated that the schism was either disappearing or there was something about Greg that had Alfred overlooking the fact Greg was one of "them". Seeing them together had me regretting that I didn't get closer to Alfred over the years we'd been acquainted.

It took me a few weeks to forget the fateful meeting. Most of my waking hours went without considering Greg at all. Knowing the danger that lurked behind those intense eyes made it easier for me to push Greg out of my conscious thoughts. He still visited me late at night and I used that imagery to my advantage while still half a sleep and ill-prepared to refuse him.

I didn't see Alfred except in passing at school. I thought about asking him about Greg, and I thought of not asking him. I did what I'd always done with the boy that lived in the house on the hill at the back of our neighborhood - nodded and smiled as I went on my way. I was happy leaving things alone. I didn't like what I'd felt that day. I didn't like the questions it put inside my head. I didn't like Greg and I was happy we hadn't crossed paths a second time because I wasn't sure I could keep not liking him.

One day, as I stood at my locker ready to rid myself of my books, a hand slid up on the locker door beside my face. As I tried to open it the hand was in the way. There was a short struggle for supremacy and I turned ready for a confrontation with the jerk that was fucking with me.

"Hi! What's your name again?"

He leaned with his hand extended behind my head, using the locker door for support.

"Martin. My name is Martin," I said indignant, all the time looking for his eyes. When I found them I had to catch my breath. Be still my heart.

"Yeah, that's right, Martin. Remember me?"

"Yeah! George something or other, ...wasn't it?"

I wasn't about to let him know I remembered not only his name, but the contour of his lips, the way his legs ran up to his tight round ass, and that scar, and those eyes. And before I knew it, I was locked in his eyes the same way we'd become locked on the first day we'd met. Trapped like a deer in the headlights of an onrushing Mack truck.

"Greg. My name is Greg," he said, being caught off guard by my lapse.

"Are you sure? I thought it was George," I pondered. "Whatever your name is, could I get into my locker now?"

Greg moved his hand, being thrown by my wit for only a few seconds. He stood so close to me that the heat from his body mingling with the heat from mine, building up between us. Once again I knew something was wrong with me. No human being had ever had the kind of affect on me, and I didn't even know him, and I wanted to keep it that way as I pulled my shirt out of my pants to cover my guilt.

As I fiddled and tried to remember what I was doing there I noticed his arms were bare, and there were some silken blond hairs on his forearms. They were far lighter hairs than the darker blond hairs on his head. His wrist was thick and his arm was well shaped, but not as muscular as I fantasized them to be when I was with him in my room late at night.

His chest had the same affect on his T-shirt that his ass had on his jeans and on me as well. I looked at the impression his nipples made on it while placing my books into my locker. My face felt the cotton in his T-shirt when he refused to move, and I wanted to rub up against him. I inhaled a heavy dose of his scent and immediately went into a total and complete brain-fart-mode (BFM). There was no way to remember which books I needed for homework and so I did the honorable thing, ditching them all in the bottom of my locker so I could turn around to look at him.

When I turned to face him, I wondered what he wanted from me. I stood there with my back against my locker door as he leaned on the hand he had placed near my ear. I felt cornered and I wanted to hide how flustered I'd become merely because he was there. He could read me like a Playboy Magazine. I became sure I didn't like this smirking boy as he laughed at my indecisive awkwardness. I wanted to escape from him and I never wanted him to leave me.

"You're funny."

And especially I hated the affect he had on me. Man, I wanted to punch him out. I wanted him to leave me alone. I wanted to kiss him flat on the lips with half the school passing around us. His arm sagged down across my shoulder and his eyes leaned on my eyes. How did he know I wasn't going to kiss him?

Mind you, I'd never kissed anyone before if you don't count my grandmother and somehow I didn't think that counted. I didn't think the kind of kiss I was thinking about sharing with Greg was in any way akin to that. Oh, I'd once suspected there was more to kissing than pecking old granny but no evidence surfaced and so it was one of those mysteries of life there was no way to answer until you meet someone like Greg. I was satisfied with not knowing until then.

I had grown to realize I was likely going to go through the rest of my life being asexual. Most of my former friends were locked into relationships and bragging about scoring every time I ended up in a conversation with one of them. Then they'd ask how I was doing in that department and there just weren't a lot of options when your girlfriends are just friends and nothing more. The only one I figured I was destined to "know" was my right hand and on those perverted occasions when I wanted something more, my left, but I never dared tell anyone I was ambidextrous in that way.

I'd never done anything with anyone up until then, nor did I want to, or so I thought. Then came Greg and I wasn't sure what I wanted, but wanting anything with him or from him was too scary to consider. Living in a small town, everyone knows everyone else. We met each Sunday in front of the churches and again on Wednesday evening. There was no way I could or would risk being discovered as someone people could hate. There was no where to run and no one to turn to once that kind of thing got around because even sympathetic people knew better than to become identified with anyone outside the norm established by our community leaders.

It was better to stick it out alone and hope for better days than to be labeled about the worst thing a kid my age could be labeled. To be labeled in a way that could get you killed isn't something I wanted to play around with. I didn't want anyone to know about what I felt or know what I did with whom in mind.

Then came Greg and I hated him. I had never hated anyone that I know of before. I found myself staring into those eyes as the fog lifted from my addled brain. The entire school moved around us, but I felt as though I was alone there with him. I tried my hardest not to pass out. I became aware of my heart going crazy inside my chest. My stomach turned over about the same time my mouth went dry. I didn't want to throw up on the guy. He just stood there waiting - for what I don't know. His eyes just stayed in mine as we contemplated our next words while the air became more scarce.

"What's up, doc," I said as cheerfully as I could while trying to cover my growing excitement with the too short tail of my shirt.

"You really want to know," he said curtly, glancing down at the too short tail of my shirt. Shit!

I was then I used my sweating and now bookless palms which was all I had left to hide the rising... temperature. And of course he didn't miss anything, staring at my hands as though he knew exactly what was going on under them. The smirk left and it was only me and my eyes suspended there waiting for his. He didn't know how little control I had left. He chuckled and shook his head before finding my eyes again.

"I just wanted to say there's a party Friday night, my house. My parents will be away this weekend. Some beer and whatever people bring. Interested? Mostly air force kids. Guys you don't know."

I knew the answer.

I wasn't a fool!

I knew all the dangers he represented.

I'd carefully been able to keep control of my life and I sure as hell wasn't giving that control up to some smirking, arrogant, cocky, gorgeous guy that made me dizzy every time I looked at him.

"I don't even know where you live," I said, fighting the words. It's not what I meant to say.

"Come on. I'll show you. We'll shoot some pool. You do shoot pool, don't you?"

I wasn't going anywhere with him. The thing I needed to do was tell him "no". The thing I needed to do was walk away from him. The thing I needed to do was stop looking in his eyes. What was happening to me?

The thing I did was, follow him out of the school like a puppy on a chain with him gladly leading the way. Only after we were out of the parking lot did he slow down so we could walk side by side. I had no trouble bring up the rear and the view it gave me. Well, I was following him, I figured I might as well make the most of it. I watched his jeans shifting from side to side as he walked.

"You lived here long?" he asked.

"All my life."

"Not yet, I hope," he said, looking at me and smiling without the smirk.

"Where'd you come from?" I asked.

"My mother's belly," he said.

"Give me a break. Where did you live before you live where it is you live at present?"

"You want to know where my father was stationed last? Rhine Main, that's in Germany."

"You speak German?"

"Not fluent, but I know a lot of the words. It's not that hard - German, I mean."

"What's Germany like?" I asked. `

"Nice. People are a lot nicer. They all like Americans so it isn't hard to make friends. Not like over here; everyone's stuck up."

"You don't seem to have any trouble making friends," I said.

"Meaning we are becoming friends," he said, not asking but telling me with certainty.

Once again I knew the answer. The last thing in the world I needed was a friend like Greg.

"Yeah!" I said, angry with myself for saying it.

"I figured that. I don't like just anyone, you know. I've got to be careful who I like. People tend to hang on me. I don't like that. It's easier to pick out the ones that you can do things with. If you take your time, you can have the ones you need and not the ones that are a pain in the ass."

"Like me?" I asked.

"Yeah! Maybe like you. I don't know yet. You seem okay from what I've seen. Alfred says you're cool. Says you don't make friends with people he runs with though. He thinks you're stuck up, but he still thought you were cool enough to talk to."

"Alfred and I don't have anything in common. His old man's a farmer and mine works for the phone company. He runs with guys that are farmer's sons. I don't think they like us much. Most of the newer housing developments were once farms. I mostly make friends with blue color types. That's who lives around me. Alfred's fine. I like him okay. You said he was cool enough, cool enough for what?"

"Yeah! He's okay, just not very good at pool. You any good?"

"We talking about pool now?" I asked. "I keep having the feeling we may not be having exactly the same conversation here. Cool enough to what?"

"I was talking about pool. You play or what?" He said, looking me over with that knowing smirk again.

"I know which end of the cue to use. Cool enough for what?"

"Great. I'd like to find someone that can play a good game. Cool enough to play with me. He introduced me to some of the farm boys thinking he could get over on me that way but he couldn't. He still lost."

"Maybe you need to train someone to compete with you, huh? To play with you I mean. That's what you want?"

"No one can compete with me," he said self-assured. "Lots play with me. Few are very good."

"We're speaking of pool?"

"Pool."

He looked me over once he'd said it. It occurred to him that I had some idea about what the conversation was really about.

"The farm boys?"

"Some times."

"For some reason I don't find that hard to believe, and I don't think it has a thing to do with pool. They cool enough?"

"What do you mean?" He said with honest innocence in his voice for the first time as he studied me. "With pool?"

"You're different," I said, thinking out loud. "I've never met anyone quite like you."

"Different! What do you mean by that crack? I'm no different than you are. I just don't waist a lot of time."

"You're cocky - self confident. Most guys around here aren't so sure as you. My friends aren't; I'm not, and the farm boys sure aren't. Does that make us bumpkins or  something?"

"I can't help it if you guys were brought up in the sticks. I know which end is up. I've been around. It's part of the military experience. You learn about new places and new people."

"And how to get what you want from them?"

"What are you saying? I don't get anything they aren't willing to give. I have no trouble attracting people. I don't want anyone around me that's a drag."

"It's okay Greg, I'm not cutting you down. You stand out and it's obvious you've been around. You're different in a good way is all I'm saying. You are different than most of us because you've had more experience with other people. That makes you interesting."

"Yeah, that's true."

"I guess we are from the sticks, and that means we don't know as much about life and people from other places. I also suppose that's why people like you come around. It's how we learn about stuff... like pool. Cool enough for what?"

"Cool enough to know what they like."

"You?"

"I suppose. You find me interesting?"

"You know I do. You turned around to make sure I was still watching you that day. You knew I was curious about you."

"What day?"

"Right! What party? You're inviting me to your party because you know I find you interesting. You know stuff I don't know. There's only one way to find stuff out."

I figured I'd get it out there so he couldn't use it against me later. I was trying to justify it to myself at the same time so I might be able to make a get away if I found out I wasn't cool enough.

"Ask the new kid?"

"If he's cool enough... to ask. Are you cool enough?"

"In a manner of speaking. I thought you were calling me queer or something for a minute. I ain't no queer, so don't even go there."

I don't know where that line came from but it startled me when he said that particular word with the emphasis he placed on it. What in his mind brought him to that word? I'd always been queer in one way or another. I didn't like what other people liked. I didn't feel what other people said they felt. Queer is not the word I would have chosen to delineate it.

I became lost in my fog again. To me Greg was an enigma magnified times ten and this is coming from someone who understood little much about anyone, including myself. The only time I heard the word queer was when someone was using it to insult someone else. It was best to ignore the word because if you didn't, you became immediately suspect. I knew that word described what I felt about myself at the times I was being honest about what my feelings were, or what I thought they were, and I wasn't about to go near it for fear of having something of the word rub off on me.

This was likely a cowardly way for me to feel about it but beatings and insults being the result of being heroic, it didn't take much to make me realize that keeping my secret was conducive to my good health and well being. Everyone that I had ever known of that was labeled a queer didn't do too well among his peers. I may not have been very bright, but I was smart enough to know when to keep my mouth shut. Some kids couldn't hide it and other kids couldn't leave them alone because of it. I felt bad because I never once offered aid or comfort to another guy after it became known he felt like me. I never knew a lesbian girl so I didn't identify so much with their difficulties. I figured girls could hide it better in school.

This sudden use of the word got my mind on it and what it meant and how painful it was when I heard it. Whatever was going on between Greg and I, it wasn't anything that had gone on between me and anyone else before. There was something working that had him at my locker at a time when I would have preferred to get on with my life not knowing anything more than I already knew about him. He decided to take it beyond that first meeting. He had to feel something because I knew all that energy didn't start and end with me. Where had it been all my life up until then?

I watched him walking beside me and caught a glimpse of the package in the front of his jeans. I could see the outline running down the inside of his right leg. The tight jeans left little to my imagination but I didn't need much. I'd given up trying to hide what had sprung out of our proximity. If he noticed after we left my locker he wasn't talking. I don't think he cared if I got a clear view of the wood in his pants or not. His mind was on something else as we walked. He made no effort to hide it or monitor where my eyes fixed on him, but then there was the question, why the word queer and what the hell were we doing if he wasn't? What was all the posturing about? What did he want if he didn't want guys to want him? It all seemed too covert for me.

As we came to the end of the path Greg turned around to face me. I let him get far enough ahead where he couldn't catch me watching his butt as he walked. Now I was faced with the other end of my dilemma, and as I closed the distance between us he adeptly used his palm to push the bulging onto the inside of the pant leg before he turned to step onto the shoulder of the road where we would walk.

He didn't say anything about his last second maneuver before entering inhabited ground and there was no way I knew to bring it up that might get it out into the open, so to speak. He either didn't mind that I saw that he was excited about something, or prospects of something, or he knew exactly what he was doing and did it for my benefit. Either way it intrigued me enough to keep me on his trail.

When faced by a gift horse, never turn your back on him.

Discovering Gregory

Chapter 3

Svelte Felt's Feel Or P Rhymes With T

Pool wasn't something I excelled at but Greg certainly did. He could run the table at will but he chose to miss a shot from time to time so he could lean erotically against his stick while eyeballing my technique. I guess having a pool table in your basement did make it a lot easier for him. I'd have done better but for some reason I couldn't keep my mind on my game and therefore I mostly watched him shooting pool. His air of superiority was obvious as he danced around the table calling his shots while I sat patiently by waiting for his occasional miss.

Half way through the second game he unexpectedly took his T-shirt off. He extended his arms straight up over his head. The fluffy tufts of hair under his arms showed for a second. It was a lighter blond than the hair on his head, perhaps a shade or two lighter, but it was a quick look and the sweat might have changed the natural color.

There were tracks of similarly colored hair running just below his belly button, the "honey trail" disappearing at his belt buckle. They were sparse but evident. His pants hung low on his hips well below the waist I wasn't sure was there. His stomach was flat and refused to hold up his pants no matter how tight they were.

His shoulders were wider than what I would have expected, considering he was only two or three inches taller than I was. His arms had a fine definition with little or no bulging and they fit his thinner build perfectly. His chest showed surprising definition for his age and I found myself self-consciously looking at my own fixtures, noticing this boy was way better built than I was.

His nipples were the size of nickels, darker than light chocolate but not as dark as the bittersweet. They weren't completely round, being more oblong with an odd shine to the flesh when I caught more than a passing glance. They perked out a bit in an exciting display of boldness, but they weren't ostentatious or feminine in the least.

"Get comfortable," he said, pressing his package against the table as he considered his next shot.

The invitation was subtle and he didn't seem to care if I stripped off or not, but of course he wouldn't. Greg was a stud and he had everything a well-equipped stud needed, and he wasn't afraid to show it off. In fact he liked showing it off. Most of the guys my age were just then getting some kind of separation between chest and waist. Greg was already built like a man, lacking only a few pounds here and there to take his body over the final hump into manhood.

My eyes lingered for too long in places where I'd never let them linger before. Knowing what I knew about him, I knew that was stupid, but for some reason I didn't have the self-control around him that I'd always exercised around the boys I knew all my life. When I realized he was watching me watch him, I tried to stop looking at his chest, the bulge, those lips, and the deceptive warmth in his clear blue eyes.

I watched as he stood with his legs spread apart with the pool cue running up between them and across the bulge, and up through his right hand. He used his hips on the stick from time to time, pushing the bulge hard against the wood, rubbing it up and down just enough so I could tell he was humping it.

Greg even strutted while he was standing still. I sheepishly looked at the table wondering whose shot it might be when he caught me watching him use it on the stick. My diverted eyes somehow ended up on his pool cue again and in an understandable progression, I was watching as he rubbed it across the lengthening bulge with more exaggeration than before.

Each time he came away from a shot he was in a different state of arousal. The more difficult the shot and the more he studied it, the more likely he was to come away with a maximum display. Other shots were quick and it slid around in his jeans when it wasn't extending down the leg or pointing out to one side. He caught me staring at it on numerous occasions and I stopped trying to hide the fact I was enjoying the view. My own display rose and fell with the intensity he showed. He didn't seem to notice or if he did I never caught him.

Then there were the times my chair was in the way and he'd brush me with his arm or his leg as he posed or positioned himself. Only once did he pass behind me when I was positioning for a shot and I felt it as he rubbed it against me in a slow motion move that he apologized for, but only if he'd broken my concentration. I had no concentration as long as he was around. I looked back to check it's condition and position in his pants once he'd worked himself to the other side of where I was standing, and he hadn't found our physical contact any hindrance to his ongoing arousal as far as I could tell.

"You're low balls?" he said after one particularly long eye engagement

"I was thinking you had the low balls," I said, when he looked at me as thought he was serious.

"Low enough," he said. "Your shot."

"Yeah! Just looking for a shot," I said, with a very bad case of dry mouth.

"We could make this interesting, you know, since you get to play free. We ought to have a bet or something to make it interesting," Greg suggested.

"I only got six cents left from lunch," I said.

"Not money. I've already got my shirt off. We'll play strip pool. I'm at a big disadvantage. You've got enough clothes to hold out until it's time to quit. Who knows, you might get lucky and get a real good look, Martin."

I knew the answer was no, but then did I leave and if I left when would I get this chance to be this close to him again? I thought about the day I met Greg, and how I couldn't take my eyes off him. He knew what I was thinking all right. Greg had been around. He was a year ahead of me in school and a light year ahead of me in experience. I just wasn't sure what his game really was or where I would eventually fit into it.

I knew the answer was no but knowing what no might mean to the hope that I would be seeing more of Greg kept me from saying it. I searched for a polite way to decline this suggestion without creating the idea I wasn't interested in whatever it was that the strip pool game might be leading us toward. While that mystery bothered me, it didn't bother me as much as I thought it should. I wanted more but not knowing what more was kept me cautious but not too cautious.

"Is this what you do with Alfred and the farm boys?"

"Something like that."

"Something like that? There's more than stripping?"

"That's up to you. Some people like more. Some don't. You decide what you like."

"Strip pool? Your invention?"

"German boys taught me. Breaks the boredom. Funny how getting naked lightens everyone's mood. They do it while drinking beer."

"The party this weekend. This part of that?"

"Usually. Depends on the mood and what guys want to do."

"Farm boys?"

"Not usually. One or two come up now and again. Mostly air force brats like me. They're all cool enough, the ones I hang with anyway."

"No one I know?"

"Maybe Alfred. I haven't decided. He's cool but a little much at times."

Greg didn't seem to mind the questions. For the first time we talked normally, no stares, and we didn't create some super strain of energy that demanded you collide with something. I was communicating with a guy that threw me for a loop. I didn't have a clue what love was and I wasn't sure about liking people. It was all very complicated and painful.

I wasn't sure what the rules were or how you decided which people to like and which to leave alone. With Greg there were no decisions. It wasn't a question of yes or no. It was the question of how do I get to spend more time with him while looking like I wasn't a faggot which I was sure he thought I was, but then if I was, what the hell was he?

"Sure, I'm game."

Greg broke the next game and sunk the eight ball, along with the cue ball. I don't know if he was that good and did it on purpose to break the ice or if it was by fate. I expected him to toss one of his shoes aside but instead he carefully unsnapped his jeans, sliding the zipper down in slow steady motion as he watched my face. He peeled the jeans off over his shoes and tossed them inside out into the corner.

His boxers were sparkling clean. The bulge was obvious and moved around when he moved. Each time I lost something, I was in more distress. When I finally lost my T-shirt, my own excitement became more evident. There was no way to push it or move it so it didn't show. He now got a good look at my skinny narrow chest, tiny waist, and the bulge that would not die.

It was then I felt like the fly that had just discovered he has landed on the spider's web. I kept trying to hide it down in-between my legs each time he was sizing up a shot, but it just refused to stay there, and he found my attempts to force it humorous. Every time I bent to take a shot, when I stood up, it was saluting him. He looked at it long enough to let me know he knew I was horny as he was. There was no prolonged interest beyond that or if there was he wasn't showing it.

"What happens when you win them all? You gonna make me go home naked? You know you're going to win. I know you're going to win."

This is the kind of question that comes to you as time goes on. I hadn't considered what the result of losing these games to Greg might be, but with only my pants and underwear left between me and glory, I wondered about it. At the pace my clothing was dropping by the wayside, it occurred to me that he might have a plan like that in his mind. Humiliation is a potent weapon in the toolbox of a sadistic boy.

"No. No. I'm not that cold hearted. We'll see if we can't work something out. You can do something for me to get me to give them back. Fair enough? I mean I could make you walk home naked if you lose them to me."

"Is this how the farm boys escape your basement with their clothes?"

"They aren't very good pool players. Play you got to pay don't they say."

"They've got to perform for you to get them back? Some of those guys look like they could get pretty mean."

"Perform? That's a neat word. I like that. Sometimes they... perform. They're honorable guys and when they agree to terms, they pay up."

"Alfred?"

"He's too easy."

"In front of his friends?"

"They mostly come up together and so it limits what they'll do. It's when one of them comes back that it can get interesting. Farm boys just want to have fun."

"You always win? They always perform?"

"So far. A few come back claiming what they really want is a rematch. They're the most fun."

"I'm not a queer if that's how cool you're talking about."

It's not something I would have said to anyone else. It isn't a word I would use on anyone else I knew, but Greg had said it first, and I was becoming a little worried about the something he might have in mind for me to do. I might do anything with Greg he wanted, but I wasn't just going to dive for it. He was the kind of boy, once he got the upper hand, he'd never give you a chance to turn the tables on him. I was sure Greg wanted what he wanted and there was only so much he was going to pay to get it. There were still more questions than answers when it came to him.

"I didn't say you were, now did I?" he said, smirking. "I have trouble with my shoulders. You could give me a massage when you want your clothes back. That's when you decide you've had enough. Like I said, you go as far as you like. I just go along for the ride."

"And the performance."

"When possible," he said more seriously. "I'm easy."

"That's cool. I could do that," I said. "But nothing else, okay. I don't think I want to do more than that. I don't really know you."

"Sure, nothing more than that."

"Cool."

"You going to shoot today or what?"

I wasn't about to tell him I was already thinking about being able to touch his body. I became worried about making a mess in my jeans if I touched him. That's if I still had my jeans. What if I didn't? What if I made a mess in my underwear and he saw it?

My heart began to race with anticipation. I'd never really felt anyone else's skin before. Not in a way like I was going to get to feel his. I knew he'd give me any access I wanted but how far could I go without admitting something about myself I wasn't ready to let anyone else know about? How did I manage to get myself into this spider's trap? Had there ever been an option?

There was an immediate escalation in my expectation for this get together. If I was to have a heart attack, I hoped it would hold off until after I gave him the massage. I lined up another shot, trying to look as casual as possible, and then I accepted defeat gracefully. I didn't make much of an effort at getting my balls into his pockets and sat down to and took my time taking my jeans off over my bear feet.

"You rush your shots. You've got to draw lines with your eyes to figure out where the ball will go once you hit it. You need to take your time."

He seemed sincere in his criticism.

"I do that a lot. Rush! I'm just a kid you know?"

"Here, let me show you. Come on over here and take your cue."

He held out my stick and watched me fold my jeans neatly and place them in the middle of the chair. Even with my underwear on I felt naked when I turned around to face him. There was no way to hide it so I let it push out the front of my white briefs. I knew the leakage was probably a stain by now and so he was going to see it anyway. I was just going to go with it and try not to look any worse than I had to.

I took the cue while he set up my last botched shot which I hadn't really intended to make anyway.

"Now check your angles. Pick a pocket and decide how you need to strike your ball with the cue ball.

"My angles?"

I looked at the ball down the barrel of the cue and tried not to look out of the corner of my eye at the way the front of his boxers stuck out. I hit the ball without really seeing it and it bounced around and rolled into the middle of the table about an inch from where it had been before I moved it.

"Here, let me set it up again," he said, moving balls around.

He moved behind me and leaned over my back with his lips almost on my ear.

"Now, remember the angles. It's all in how you line up the cue ball on your ball. You know if you just clip the ball you'll get a big angle and if you hit it square you'll get a small angle. It'll come off the bumper at an equal angle according to how you strike the ball."

His chest barely brushed my back and my eyes closed and I was feeling warm all over. He reached across my back and rearranged the way I had the cue, placing his arms on top of mine. His chest now covered my entire back. He was sweating slightly and I could feel the dampness of his underarm on my shoulders. His face brushed mine ever so slightly as we studied the table.

His smell drifted into my nose and my eyes closed again. I was feeling dizzy and alive and wonderful.

"Line up your angles and I'll show you where you need to make contact with your ball."

He leaned forward forcing the front of his boxers into my thigh as he reached across the table, placing his finger right where he wanted me to hit the ball. I started to sweat. His face pressed against mine as he checked the angle again. I gasped as he stood up and away from me.

"Stroke it easy. One motion. Don't jerk your shots."

"Stroke it easy. Don't jerk it," I said.

"You've got a one track mind. Just shoot," he said.

"Just shoot," I repeated for him with the bulge in his boxers now right next to my face. "Just shoot. Right!"

"You're taking too long, Martin. When you line it up just go for it. They aren't going to move."

"Like this?" I asked, hitting the ball lightly and it ran out of gas four inches from the pocket we were lined up on.

"That's enough. It's getting late. I can show you next time. You don't concentrate. You need to concentrate."

When I stood up after the shot, he was turning at the same instant and the front of our underwear ended up colliding with a predictable result. We both hesitated keeping our mutual bulges engaged albeit through the material in our undershorts. I was surprised to see Greg looking at where we had come together. The power of our hard wired connection kept us pressing together as it sent an electric shock through me. I couldn't break the contact and for some reason Greg didn't until for several long seconds.

Greg seemed flustered once he backed away. It wasn't a shaky kind of flustered like I might have experienced, but it was obvious he had been thrown off his game for a minute. There was this incredible awkwardness that followed. It kept us from looking at each other as we went to neutral corners for the mandatory eight count. He grabbed his jeans and started to turn them right side out.

"The massage?" I said, not wanting to end it yet. "I can't go home like this. You said if I...."

Greg was standing back in the shadows so I couldn't see his face. He stepped forward and sat on the corner of the table, letting his jeans fall back onto the floor.

"I forgot you owed me."

He stretched out with his stomach pressed against the felt. I stood to one side looking at his golden skin. My fingers were frozen at my sides while perverted thoughts of what I wanted to do to him ran around inside my brain.

"Come on, get with it, we don't have all day. My father will be home soon. Just a quick once over."

"How do I? I mean I can't...."

"Climb up on the table. You can't hurt it. It's slate."

I knelt in-between his legs and leaned forward over him. I moved my legs until they were snuggly against the bare skin of his inner thighs. I felt flushed and the temperature was rising fast - mine anyway. I leaned forward to take my first calculated feel of his lovely skin. His face rested on the back of his hands. He held his eyes closed and waited patently for me to take my next shot.

Putting my hands tentatively on his shoulders, the skin was softer than I expected. It took me a second to realize I was really touching him. I used my thumbs to massage his muscles and I slipped my fingers over his gentle warm skin. My heart did a tap dance in my chest and I became enraptured by the feel of him and his sighs as my hands explored his flip side.

His muscles tensed as I felt them. I leaned forward to do his shoulders and the front of my briefs leaned on the back of his boxers. His eyes swung open and were filled with a substantial fire.

"Message only, thank you. If I ever get the urge to be cornholed, I'll notify you."

"Sorry," I said, easing myself off him and cursing my stupidity.

I wasn't invited to leave and I didn't offer but I was sure I found something I liked as much as I liked looking at him. He went back into his trance and I rubbed all the way down to his waistband, taking my time to memorize his body.

"Just push your fingers under,' he said, keeping his eyes closed.

"You said!"

"I said get your dick out of my ass. You can massage me there. It's part of what you owe. Don't be such a wimp, Martin."

I slipped my fingers into the back of his underwear before he was able to change his mind. They didn't stop until I felt the top of his crack. His legs tightened against mine when the tips of my fingers were working around the split. His ass felt as nice as it looked and my mind was lost in the feel of him.

"That okay?" I asked, swallowing hard and trying to figure out the lay of the land as my fingers dipped in and out of his crack.

"Yeah, fine. Don't talk, rub, you owe me and time's short. Get my legs."

I felt a bit odd fishing my fingers out of his underwear. I wondered what the hell I was doing there. His legs spread wide a part on the table and I backed down to about his knees as I traced the black hairs from half way down the inside of his thigh, up, up, up to where they entered his boxers. It was a sparse line and the darkest hair on him.

As I started to rub the back of his legs, I could see his balls lying there in the left leg hole. I used both of my hands on his right leg while watching them. There was hair, but not enough to distort my view, and as I leaned toward the left I could see the space behind his balls and more scattered blond hairs. I changed legs, gulped as I swallowed hard as I placed my hands in a position where I could take advantage of this over exposure.

When I had leaned forward to do his shoulders, it wasn't a calculated move to get a thrill from rubbing myself against the crack of his ass, but my next movements were all thought out ahead of time. I'd take giant steps and then pause, giving him time to rebuke me, and then if he hadn't cried foul, I'd take another leap into the unknown. What had come over me I didn't know, but my entire being was bent on having as much of Greg as I could get, and I wasn't sure where my plot ended and his begun.

I let the back of my hand rest against both of his balls all at once, being sure he'd tell me to get off as quickly as the contact was made. He remained silent and did not move. I acted like I was massaging him as the back of my hand moved around on one ball and then the other. He seemed to have fallen asleep by the time I got all ten fingers up inside the leg hole as I was feeling the most adorable skin. As I reached the point where his leg ended and his crotch started, I dug my fingers into the quite hard flesh, causing him to shift ever so slightly as he raised his left knee until it was wedged against the cushion. It was then, I could see his brown spot if I tilted my head a little to the left. I let all ten fingers work the four inches of flesh between his legs. It was an all consume activity and I prayed he wouldn't make me stop yet.

He got still as death with spittle leaking from between his lips and onto the back of his hand. I became more bold and let my fingers feel one ball and then the other before taking both of them in my hand. As I suspected he stirred from this coma when I was touching his testicles.

"Do what you were doing before, dude."

"What?"

"Behind my nuts. Do that some more."

Greg's voice seemed weak and a bit taut. He lifted his head while he spoke but he didn't make eye contact and placed his head back down immediately. He liked it. I liked it. What was there to worry about. I rubbed more vigorously and I could feel him pressing his hips down against the felt. He seemed to squirm as I spent long minutes rubbing and squeezing this ever more sensitive space.

When I got to the brown spot I decided I had to see what it felt like. I knew we were getting close to forbidden ground but he'd told me he liked it. It was only an inch from where my fingers were get a great response. I continued moving my fingers until my forefinger and second finger pushed on the middle of his hole. The rest of my fingers were feeling around to distract him from this escalation. At first I was surprised he didn't jump or growl and tell me to get my fingers back where he said, but there was absolutely no reaction that I could identify.

The next thing I knew he was pushing himself off the table and my fingers ended up on his balls. With his ass in the air he pivoted in his right arm and sat down with his ass on the table and me still halfway between his scissoring legs.

"I didn't say that. I didn't say touch that. Did I?"

His eyes sparked and his face was full of displeasure for the liberties I'd taken with him. I was surprised his admonishment didn't last longer or intensify. The eyes broke away from me as he checked where he was on the table. I was waiting for him to get off the table or tell me to, but instead he leaned back and placed his hands behind his head, spreading out across the table without further reprimand.

His legs brushed across mine as he got comfortable. He watched me carefully as though he thought I might steal something. Keeping his knees bent somewhat and his balls were hanging out in clear view. I didn't want to stare at them but there wasn't much I could do.

My hands were still between his legs and I started rubbing his right thigh without being asked. Once again he stared at me like he wanted to kick my ass big time. I no longer wanted to be there with him, but that didn't stop the back of my hand from being in contact with his balls before I had time to plan it. The spell had started to break and I wasn't sure what to do but touching him was too strong a potion for me to resist. He was drawing me in and didn't think I could resist.

We watched each other as my hands kept working on his skin.

"Higher," he said in a low invitation and he reached up to turn off the overhead lap that lit the table. Rays of light came in through the basement window and we were only partially in the shadows.

I came up on my knees and placed my hands on his stomach, keeping them flat against his stomach, I moved them up over his chest and up onto his shoulders. His head was back flat on the felt and the light made his eyes seem iridescent as my face moved over top of his. His legs shifted and the front of his shorts were against the front of mine. I gasped when I felt his steel dig into mine. I felt myself struggling to breath to stay in control.

My eyes were unable to come away from his, but my eyes were in the shadows and a dusty light hung just above his. He blinked and looked up at my face as neither of us moved.

"What do you want?"

"Want?"

"You know what you want. I know what you want."

His question was a challenge. His voice had a touch of evil in it. His eyes were different though. The anger and intensity had washed out of them. They still sparkled even in the fragments of light that , replaced by some curiosity I was not familiar with. I stayed on top, pressed hard against him only at the one place, feeling a rush of passion and lust coming from our connection.

My hands barely brushed his skin now. It wasn't a massage. I was feeling his skin, drawing the excitement out of it. My face was slowly drawing closer to his. Once again some force beyond my own reality took over and drove me to think of kissing this strange boy who had invaded my brain.

As my lips got within a few inches of his the light came on at the bottom of the stairs and just a few feet from where we lay. I heard footsteps on the stairs and pushed myself back off him, kneeling between his legs and looking up in a panic as my lust drained out of me.

 

Discovering Gregory

Chapter 4

Squirt

My heart was in my throat and my hands were on Greg's crotch and that heart attacked I mentioned earlier, was upon me. There was no escaping our fate.

"You two almost done?"

Greg bridged up on his neck to look upside down at a mirror image that appeared only a little younger and just a little more handsome than he was. The new boy's soft blue eyes cast a lazy gaze that fell upon us to discover our posture of familiarity. Busted!

"Get lost, squirt. I got the table after school," Greg growled low in his throat, not seeming to be much disturbed that we had gotten caught fooling around.

"I see that, only I'd like to use the table to shoot pool. You can do that some place else. I'm limited with what I want to do."

"We're doing it here. Split while you still can. You don't want me to get up."

"I'm Doug."

He spoke casually as if we'd just met down at the 7-11 store. He looked past Greg as though he wasn't even there to address me. He noticed my irresponsible hands, but he didn't act like it caused him any difficulty as he continued approaching the table.

"I'm Martin," I said, removing my hand from the front of Greg's undershorts long enough to shake Doug's friendly hand.

He stepped back a step, looking not at all threatening, but looking at everything in front of him. His eyes found the front of my underwear as he checked out my position on the table between Greg's legs. I waited, as he seemed almost ready to suggest my next shot. I would find out later that Doug missed nothing but he knew better than to challenge his older brother. He did however make an art form out of aggravating the hell out of him. There was a careful balance between that and annihilation and I would find that Doug had spent years figuring out just how close to that line he could come and still successfully manage to avoid Greg's wrath.

Greg watched him carefully with his eyes and that gave me time to look him over as well. Doug would have been my height and weight and lacked any muscles I could find. What I could see was adorable and if I hadn't already given my heart up to Greg, I'd certainly have thought Doug was worthy of such a gift. If Greg had an antithesis, it was Doug.

"Nice meeting you," he said politely as he backed up toward the stairs. "How long will this take, brother of mine?"

"Not long. He was just paying up."

"Where do you find these guys? Doesn't anyone in this town know how to play pool?"

While he sounded a bit like a wise guy, his broad smile told me it was all in good fun.

The words spit back and forth too fast for me to keep track of them. They were like two polished standup comics each bidding the other to take his wife. Doug had much lighter blond hair, lighter and less intense blue eyes, and a complexion that was next to perfection. He had none of the strength or power of Greg while having none of his flaws. His features gave a gentle flutter to my heart each time I stayed on his face. There was no doubt they were brothers and that made the circumstances under which we met seem somewhat surreal.

"He's going to give me lessons," I said once there was a lull.

"Yeah, I see. I'll do some homework until you two are finished. Just be careful not to get hurt, Martin. Pool can be a rough game the way my brother plays it."

Doug trotted up the stairs and disappeared. I could see the bottom of the door and I watched it for a second to see if there was to be an encore of their lounge act. It stayed closed.

"Don't mind him. He won't say anything. He knows better."

"I feel really strange with him knowing what we're doing down here? I mean I've never done nothing like this before."

"You're just giving me a massage, that's all. You lost and I won and he knows the rules. You aren't the first guy that lives around here to give me a massage."

"You play with him?"

There was a silence that left me to jump to my own conclusions.

"He's my brother."

Greg's eyes penetrating me again, making me feel self-conscious. I was pressed between his warm legs and one of my hands was still on the front of his underwear. I would feel him moving in small spasms under my palm.

"What you thought was going to happen before squirt showed up... it wasn't going to happen."

"What are you talking about? I've never done anything like this before so you know a lot more about it than me."

I was as cool as I could be and I laid it all on him. It was obvious what he was talking about and I knew that we hadn't been but a few seconds from getting a lip-lock on one another. For the life of me I couldn't figure out how we came to be in that condition. It wasn't something either of us planned or something we spent a lot of time thinking about, it had simply happened while we were doing something else. I can't explain it and I don't understand any more about it than that, but I wasn't letting him off the hook as easily as he thought he was going to wiggle free of any responsibility for what we were up to.

"You know what I'm talking about. I don't mind guys playing with my pecker, but I ain't swapping no spit with 'em, understand?"

"If you say. I never gave it a thought."

Greg had lost his harsh edge until Doug showed up. He'd gentled out and seemed to be caught up in the moment, and now he was back to his arrogant swagger. Was he even aware of the energy we had been creating together? The spell wove by our proximity and physical contact, was broken by the reawakening of his superiority gene. I looked for an easy exit, hoping we might recapture the moment at some later date.

"I can keep it that way all night?"

His bravado was boyish self-promotion with little meaning in it for me.

"What way?"

"Hard! I can keep it up eight hours if I want. Hard as a rock."

"Why would you want to?" I asked.

"Don't you know anything about pleasing a woman?"

"Not really."

I felt it pulsing under my fingers as we were speaking of it, and that made me squeeze, which caused him to wince and then close his eyes. It pulsed more and I was just squeezing for all I was worth while trying to think of a way to get out of there. His eyes stayed on my face as my eyes were on my hand and what I imagined might be under his underwear. As badly as I wanted to go, ten times that is how badly I needed to see him in all his glory. My focus was narrowing down to a five digit operation that was super heating my face and hand.

His hips came off the felt with a sharp moan as his lips parted so he could get more air. He seemed powerless as we both watched intently to see what was going to happen next. The heat was rising again and there was an intense fragrance coming off him that filled my brain with lustful ideas. Sweat rolled down on both of his sides. I squeezed and he moaned again, letting his head tilt back on his shoulders as he filled his chest with air.

When I checked his face, he seemed to be losing that rough edge once again as he became focused on me, and more particularly, what I was doing to him. Using his elbows, he propped himself up so he could get a better view. He looked a little like he was in pain, but there was something else about the look of him that told me there was a certain power in my palm. Greg wanted me to escalate our activity but he would need to ask.

"Yeah, do that some more," he said while trying to take a breath. "Up and down on it some before you squeeze it hard. I like it when you squeeze."

I didn't want to be there, doing that to him, but I was and I couldn't get my hand off of it, and I'm sure he'd insist I do that before I left. As I watched wondering why he was doing it, he used his palms to push down on the waistband until his underwear was down on his thighs except where I held his dick through it in the middle. His eyes pierced into me until I let go of him, and with no hesitation he let me see it in an uninhibited display. He was watching my face to see what my reaction would be. It took my breath away in spite of me making every effort not to look in awe of him.

My Humming Bird heart had me feeling faint from the excitement. I had seen it in his jeans that first day. The impression it made on the material, leaving an impression on me that had stirred me dozens of times late at night after the fact. Now, it was right in front of me for the taking, his steely hot flesh, under his unrelenting stare.

The head was cut deep into the shaft and stood out fat on top of a thick tan shaft. We both watched it standing out of his dark blonde pubes. His smell was stronger then ever and I inhaled as much of his scent as I could consume. My brain got lost in a delirium for him. How did I get myself into such a mess? His chest pumped bigger gulps of air as his mouth hung open. I wanted to grab it but I was afraid of what happened once I did. He'd have won and I didn't want him to win, but what I wanted meant there was no other way than to give in to him.

My own underwear was stretched to the max and I held onto myself trying to keep from losing control. I'd been to the brink half a dozen times and I hung so near that I knew it would start pumping of me without much more stimulation. I'd been constantly dripping drops the entire time we'd been down there and my hand was soaked in it, but I didn't want to lose it after I'd gotten this far. There was no telling if I'd ever get a chance like this again. I didn't know what came next but I was ready to give in.

I could hardly breath as our eyes met at his dick.

"Go ahead. It's okay. I don't mind."

His words were conciliatory, gentle, even inviting. If I didn't know what I knew about Greg, I'd have dove on it.

He seemed engaged beyond the point of no return and as I moved in across the fallen underwear, he went flat on his back, looking at me with his head cocked to one side and the right side of his face touched the felt. He looked like a helpless little boy and that's as close as Greg would ever come to looking helpless. He seemed to need it as much as I wanted it.

I leaned back toward the object of our affection. I was afraid that if I let myself go I'd explode. I was hypnotized by being so close to it. I studied its contours, the veins, and how proud it stood out. I leaned my face forward and breathed deep. His fingers rubbed his pubic hair as he lay otherwise motionless, waiting for me.

"How long can you keep yours like that?"

"Like this. I don't know. Why would you want to be hard for eight hours? That's got to hurt after awhile."

"Women like it. Most guys can't go more than fifteen or twenty minutes. I can go all night," he bragged, not moving, watching me. "You can touch it, you know. It's what you've wanted from the get go. It's okay."

"How do you know what I want?"

"It's in the eyes."

"What?"

"The way you eat me with them. You are a hungry boy, Martin. Go ahead. You know you want to feel it. This is your chance. You don't want to miss your change."

I didn't like to admit it but he was right. I wrapped my fingers around it two inches below the head. I'd never seen a hard dick close up and I was going to make the most of it. The way it stood up made it easy to get a grip on it. His eyes closed as soon as my fingers tightened. As hard as the flesh was, the skin was ever soft and luscious to feel. As I squeezed the pee hole opened wide and more of his scent was released into my nostrils. It filled me with desire for him as I breathed deep.

"Up and down," he said softly.

I knew the mechanics and I knew I was now jacking him off. His hips kept time in a half beat, and my motion quickened. He seemed to be getting lost in my hand. I let go of myself and reached up between his legs. I started rubbing the space behind his balls vigorously while I beat him off. He seemed to like it before and I didn't think I could go wrong going back to the tried and true.

"Yeah," slipped out of him. "Like that. Oh, that's good. A little faster now. Squeeze it hard."

His hips raised to help me. My fist went into his pubes and he moved his hand. He was breathing hard and I could feel him pulse as I continued to speed up my motion as though I was doing it to myself. Each time I would stop to give it a good squeeze, our eyes would come together. Once when I paused to squeeze, he yanked off his boxers, spreading his legs as wide open as the table allowed. He looked at ease with his nudity.

The space behind his balls hardened as his hips continued to work on my hand. I watched the view and memorized what I was seeing, touching, smelling, and especially the way he looked. If this was the only time we were to be together, I didn't want to forget a single detail.

"Faster now," he said. "You're doing good. Just a few more minutes."

I could feel its girth expanding in my fingers and the head thickened visibly as the flesh darkened with excitement, growing as hard as the shaft it crowned. The ridge around it became a barrier that no longer yielded to the force of my hand colliding with it. Greg leaned on one elbow leaning forward to watch my handiwork. I leaned forward so I was over his dick. Our eyes were six inches a part and I could feel each breath bursting from his wide open mouth. His breath was sweet and the muscles in his chest and arms tightened as I pounded away. I no longer stopped to squeeze and he no longer made that requested. We were eyeball to eyeball staring at one another as he came closer and closer.

"Yoooooo!" Came a yell from on high.

"Fuck," Greg said, suddenly lying flat and holding his hands over his face. "It can't be that late already."

"Who's that? Will he come down? Should I keep doing it?"

"It's my father. He'll come down if I don't go up. Get dressed."

I was still holding onto him when he pulled away from my hand, pivoting off the table and moving into the shadows under the stairs and on the oposite side form where his pants were. The light from the window showed me his shoulder, part of his arm, and his ass. As I pulled on my pants, I watched. I could see his arm moving rapidly. His hips were twitching and he was leaning forward so his ass was round and spread slightly apart.

His arm continued at high speed and while I couldn't see what he was doing, it didn't take long to figure it out. Then there was a loud grunt followed by loud gushes of air as he stood straight up and his ass and legs seemed to be flexing all the muscles possible as his body twitched and jerked. I could hear his breathing as he leaned against the staircase with his right arm, panting like a race horse.

"Toss me my pants. Man, I needed that. I'd have been hard all evening. Man, you had me so close a couple of times."

"I did?"

"You know how, kid."

"Here," I said, waiting for him to turn so I could look at it.

His dick arched out in front of him as he moved. It had lost some of its vitality, but not enough to make it look modest. Greg pulled down on it and wiped the tip in his hand before he bent to pull up his jeans. I stood barefoot and shirtless watching him. He sneered as he zipped and then buttoned them.

"There's a door back in that corner. It's got a bolt lock. I'll lock it back after you go. I got to go upstairs or he'll come looking for me."

"Sure," I said, sitting down to put on my socks.

"Don't take all day," he said.

"I won't," I said.

Greg started strutting toward the stairs.

"8PM" he said.

"8PM what?"

"Friday night. Party will start about eight. You better get a pass to stay out. My parents will say it's okay if you need. You can't go home if you drink. That's the only rule at my parties."

"Okay," I said, surprised the offer was still open.

He hesitated just before his head went out of sight on the stairs, glancing back at me about like he had that first day on the road to make sure I was still watching. I was.

When the door closed I finished putting on my shoes and tossed my shirt onto the corner of the table. I went to where Greg had stood under the staircase. As I drew closer the smell of him and his sex was intense. There were papers and magazines tied in bundles as well as big gobs of wet cum that now sat in a few places and ran down in others. I reached out to touch it and ran it through my fingers, putting it to my nose and inhaling the most potent smell of him yet.

I unzipped my pants and scooped up more of his juices. As soon as I felt it on myself, I was as intense as I'd ever been while jacking off. His cum was like lightening in a bottle. The liquid shot out of me and passed over the papers and magazines, colliding with the wall under the stairs. There were two, three, and then four potent squirts before I had to grab on to something for fear of falling. I pumped a little longer until all the passion had left my dick. I gathered myself together so I could make my exit.

I wiped my totally soft dick in my hand before using my shirt to wipe my hand and then I put it on. I went to the back door to let myself out past two disabled bicycles and an old skateboard that was minus a strut and two wheels. They'd apparently been there for some time.

My journey home would be lost in space as I relived the event. Just standing at the back of his house, I was marking it down as my first noteworthy sexual experience. I thought of some things when I was just past puberty, but that was indeed experimentation because if you removed the excitement of the moment, you have a lesson in physiology that was masked in a curiosity about my fellow man, or boys. There were no feelings that went with it that lasted longer than the activity. Not any I could identify or remember. There was no overwhelming need to know anything in particular, just mechanics and boys doing what boys do.

There was no doubt that this was in a different league. I wasn't sure if it would ever happen again with Greg, or why it happened once for that matter. I thought he needed it a lot more than I did, but I also figured he knew I would go for the idea. While it was the most intense and exciting thing that had ever happened to me, that was because of what I felt for him. It was a bad idea to let a sexual experience turn me into some toy boy he could use for relief anytime there wasn't anyone else available. I wasn't that far down the long lonesome highway that I was going to let someone like him walk all over me. There had to be a way for me to get what I wanted without letting him push me around.

Standing there listening for his voice or some sign of him, I thought about him inviting me to the party. I remembered the near kiss. I remembered that just before his father came, we were falling into the same posture as when we almost kissed the first time. Some insanely bad timing had his brother interrupting us the first time and then his father. How bogus was this? I don't know it would have happened but I sure wouldn't have turned the idea down if he came up with it.

In his voice I could hear the words, "Kiss me you fool."

That got me chuckling. What a dork I had become, and what else was I now that another boy knew that I would? Well, I had an invitation to a party, an all-night party, and that meant anything might happen.

Greg was still a mystery. I knew he fooled around and he liked being the center of attention. He was also dangerous as well as someone who made me feel uncomfortable. He also drew me to him like no one else ever had. In spite of all the things about him that told me to steer clear of him, I knew I wouldn't steer clear of him for one good reason. I couldn't. I wanted to be with Greg and I would wait for the next time. Having that thought was scary and I wanted to argue with myself but first I had to get home before my parents sent out a search party.

A bird in the hand is worth more than a bird in your pants.

Discovering Gregory

Chapter 5

Game Plan

"You're late!"

My father spoke as soon as I opened the door. He was around the corner in the kitchen fixing dinner. I could smell the chili as soon as I got in the living room.

"Yes, sir," I said, wondering how he always knew when I came home.

I went to my room and changed my clothes, setting aside the ones I'd been wearing while I was with Greg. I sat on the corner of my bed and thought about going crazy, not so much doing it as was I. How could things get so far out of control so quickly. I was letting someone else call the shots and I'd never let anyone jerk me around before. What was it he had that I wanted? I knew all the obvious answers but none of them answered the questions. My best bet was to stay as far as way from Greg as I could get and I knew it.

My father's back was to me when I sat down at the table still thinking about my time with Greg.

"How's school."

"Fine."

"You passing everything."

"Yes, sir. My friend wants me to stay over this weekend. I'm almost sixteen, Dad."

"Yeah, I know that. What friend? Do we know him?"

My father turned to look over his shoulder at me when he asked. I never brought anyone home. They never met anyone I ran with not that I ran with anyone in particular. All my friends had drifted away from me in junior high school and I hadn't bothered to replace them. It took so much work to make friends that it didn't seem worth it. You know them and trust them for years and one day they blow you off for the new girl they met.

"No, he's a new kid. Colonel's son or something. They just moved up on the pike and he's looking to get acquainted with the townies."

"I don't see why not. You're plenty old enough to stay over. I'll talk to your mother about it."

That went well. The thought occurred to me that I was now stuck with staying at Greg's no matter what happened. The thought both thrilled and worried me.

I needed to stay away from Greg. As much as I liked him and as much as I wanted to repeat our pool table shenanigans, I suspected it would never be that easy a second time. There came a cost when you let other boys know they could get you to do stuff to them. I don't know how I knew that but it was obvious I needed to be careful about how easily I went for his game.

Greg was too anxious to get me into his little clique and he was too easy to get close to. There had to be something I didn't know. This was obvious to me as well. I just didn't know how to apply the brakes and still get something out of it. Hell, I couldn't even find the brake pedal. I would go to the party and avoid anyone I knew and find out what was going on without letting anyone know what was going on inside my own brain.

I caught sight of Greg in the hall on Friday but he didn't see me. The bottom fell out of my stomach and I wanted to rush up and say hello. Instead I slowed down so our paths wouldn't cross. His white T-shirt was tight and he flashed a smile at a girl walking past, turning to watch her as they went in opposite directions.

I checked the mirror a dozen times before I left the house. My parents were out and I told them I would be back on Sunday. They didn't ask me any questions and I didn't mention it again.

I arrived for the party a little after 8p.m. I walked up the gravel driveway and could see people through the thin white drapes on the two tall dinning room windows. I entered through the kitchen and immediately saw Greg with his back turned to me. I walked past him and the corner of the table and turned to nod and to let him know I had arrived.

He only let his eyes pass over me as I moved past. His absent nod dismissed me almost immediately. I kept moving toward the living room shadows but turned to take another look at my host. He pretty much ignored me after that.

The other guys were all dressed exactly like Greg, white T-shirts, blue jeans, and tennis shoes. Every head was cut close and except for variations in the acne patterns and a few inches here or there, they seemed like they were similar.

He stood at the table with a Pabst Blue Ribbon in one hand, making eyes at the only girl who was in the room. She sat on a chair at the corner of one of the windows. Four other boys were posted around the table, laughing and joking with one another, but keeping at a respectful distance from where Greg was now engaging her in conversation. I couldn't help but wonder if she played pool.

She looked like a nice clean girl with a face that almost shinned from frequent scrubbings. She kept her hands folded in front of her as she giggled politely each time Greg spoke. I wondered if that's how I looked when I was looking at him. It was obvious to me she was smitten with my hero. Some random thoughts went through my mind concerning Greg and the girl and I wondered if I should go to the table to retrieve a beer out of the huge bucket that had been placed there and filled with ice.

"Hey, Martin. Greg said you was coming."

Alfred came from a hallway off to my left. He had a noticeable list toward his right as he closed the distance between us.

"Hey, Alfred. Anybody else we know here?"

"Nah, all the military guys he hangs with. Greg said you shot some pool."

Alfred smiled as I cringed. He drank from his bottle of beer.

"What?"

I couldn't hide my surprise. What had Greg said? What if Alfred knew about the pool games and the pay up? But of course he did, I thought. He was coming to play the day we all met over by my house. Alfred knew and he was back and so I knew. It somehow didn't comfort me knowing Alfred had probably paid up too.

"Pool! Greg said you came over to shoot pool."

He was more insistent that we talk about it.

"Yeah, I wasn't paying any attention."

He reeked of booze and needed a shave, which was remarkable because very few of us shaved yet, and Alfred still looked like he was twelve. He was one of the few guys I could look down at.

I walked into the unlighted living room and took a seat in a chair that faced the table and the man. Alfred came and stood beside the chair making conversation I tried to pay attention to. When he needed a beer he drifted away and didn't come back. From my vantage point I was looking out of the shadows at the activities going on around the table. I'd never seen any of the military kids before. They were a bit too loud for my taste. I'd never been to a drinking party before. None of them seemed too bashful about reaching for the beer.

Several times I thought I might leave, but even with Greg hanging on to some girl, I couldn't keep from wanting to be near him as long as I could. His smile was radiant and his laughter filled the room. Everyone stood around him, making him the center of attention. I was just bored, picking up bits of information from different conversations that I listened to. None of it was coherent for long.

Alfred and I were the only non-military types, and he seemed much more out of place than I felt. The circle around the table was closed and Alfred had to reach through for his beer. He spent a lot of time doing that and he seemed to be having one hell of a good time. After awhile I noticed he wasn't there any longer.

A tall thin guy came in with two girls. They brought some more beer, some wine, and Cokes. There were some hugs, more laughter, and the din grew.

"What's up, doc?" someone said from the corner of the couch.

I turned my head to see Squirt, or Doug, sitting there. Had he been there the entire time or was I so intent watching the action that I hadn't noticed his arrival?

He was holding a can of beer and looked way too young to be drinking. I could see his perfect white teeth and his perfect smile. He was the perfect copy and Greg had been the imperfect prototype. Doug had the kind of complexion that women pray they can achieve. I suspected he didn't work nearly as hard at it as they did.

He got up to sit on the arm of the chair I was sitting in, pulling his knees up to his chest and leaning back. His leg was now pressing warmly against my arm and shoulder. He didn't seem to notice the intimacy and I didn't mind at all. We both watched the activities from the shadows.

"Didn't expect to see you again."

"Why's that?"

He looked down at my face with a curiosity he couldn't hide. I though that Doug knew what was on my mind. He stared without speaking for several minutes and then he looked back toward the dinning room.

"Townie's usually get one dose of Greg's pool game and don't need a second lesson."

"Is that how it always goes?"

"What do you mean?"

"Come on, Doug. You saw us. What we were doing. Does he do that with all of them."

"No, only most of the time. He looses interest some times. He likes getting guys to do stuff. You know? They've got to want to."

"He play with these guys?"

I knew I was asking too many questions and Doug knew more than I wanted him to know about me, but he somehow seemed harmless. As threatening as Greg was, that's about how non-threatening Doug was. Doug looked at me for a minute as his chin rested on his knees.

"More like they play with him."

I checked the guys as they stood around the table. Mostly all I could see was backs, but they were all between my age and Greg's age, mostly a little younger, I thought.

"Boring, huh?" I said, smiling at Doug.

"Always is. Probably'll get interesting once the girls go. Usually does, anyway."

"He never mentioned girls."

"There's always at least one for awhile and Greg will try to get into her pants."

"Does he?"

"Some times. This one won't stay? She's a dick tease."

"How so?"

"Gets the boys all worked up and leaves. He's been working on her for awhile."

"Does she know about the pool games?" I asked without thinking.

"Nah. Not even Greg is that stupid. There are limits to what you can let a girl know about."

"Really! You mean they talk about stuff?"

"They're all pervs, each and every one of this crew. They're Greg's inner-circle."

"They know about the pool games?"

"They all know about him. Alfred's the only townie that comes back, and he's a drunk and comes for the beer. And now you."

"He do stuff to Greg?"

"You want me talking about what you do to Greg?"

The words were serious and slapped me out of my funk. Doug knew more than he said and I didn't want to hear any more.

"No," I said, unable to hide my alarm. "He said you were cool."

"Me? I guess. I don't know nothin about nothin if that's what you mean. You guys do what you want with him. It's not like I care."

"You've seen him do other stuff?"

"I'm his brother - there's little I don't see. He don't care about me and he knows I don't talk about it."

"You sound a bit angry," I said.

"Greg would kill me if I said something to the wrong person. You want to know about Alfie, you ask Alfie. The pervs all hang together around here. You hang here and this crew'll know about you before long. So, if you're smart...."

"What's that mean?"

"I don't know. Sex is all they think about, ya know. That's all. You should hear them without the girls."

"You seem like a nice guy. These guys aren't?"

"Mine's bigger than yours. No it's not. Bet you. It all starts with bets. Small bets at first and then as the beer gets gone the bets grow. They all know where it ends up."

"You don't do that stuff?" I asked.

"There you go again, Martin. I don't do public stuff. I'm not into audience participation."

"You're here."

"I get enough beer, maybe. I guess I'm a perv too - I don't like to admit it."

"They all like him," I thought out loud.

"Greg's big on audience, admiration, and status. Size is everything to my dear brother. The size of the audience is as important as anything."

"Like I didn't notice," I said.

"Yeah, discreet to him is getting naked in front of a dozen people."

I watched Greg making out with the girl in front of everyone. There were periods of silence for the first time, and all the eyes were on him. One boy nudged another boy and giggled in his ear when Greg's hand went onto her thigh and lifted her skirt a few inches before she slapped his hand away. He leaned into her and the front of his pants rubbed on the side of her frilly white blouse.

Doug stayed planted next to me and we both watched.

With Greg's back to the wall next to the kitchen door and the girl clinging onto him, I saw the bulging in his jeans clearly for the first time. She had both of her hands around his neck and looked up at him with adoring eyes and silver-plated smile. One of his arms was around her and the other was on her waist. It slipped down to the front of her skirt and then it went back down on her inner thigh and stayed put. She looked tiny beside him and that made his condition all the more obvious. His crew all stood facing him and I wondered if his lump stirred them at all, even their giggling had slowed down.

I needed a cold one just then. I walked into the dinning room, looking past the bucket of beer to the object that got my interest rising. I pushed between two of the guys and pulled out a bottle of Pabst with ice dripping down off it. Greg's eyes left hers for long enough to notice me. I figured I'd accomplished everything I'd set out to do.

"Still here," I said happily, and I reached for a second beer to give to Doug.

"Who's he?" Sharon inquired, turning her head when he turned his.

"Kid from school. Martin, Sharon."

"Hi!" I said buoyantly. "You go to our school?"

"On base," she said, no longer looking at me.

"All of us go on base," the tallest boy said while following me with his curious eyes.

"Here," I said, handing Doug his beer.

"Good old panther piss," he muttered, twisting off the cap.

When we got our attention back on the dinning room, Sharon continued rubbing herself against Greg. She kept one of her hands just north of Greg's bulge, holding onto the belt line of his pants just above his right pocket. Greg had one arm planted over his head, leaning on the door jam and the other dangled down to the top of her bent leg and she used the wall for support. Greg's fingers curled on the leg. She giggled, brushing it away, but it was like a yo-yo, coming back even higher each time she pushed it down, until it was exposing her white silky underpants.

I wasn't so sure she was going to leave. I wasn't so sure she wouldn't grab it. Had I been there with my hand so close to it, I doubt I could have stopped myself from touching it, holding it, wanting to have it out in my hand. I thought about his back being against the surface of the pool table with me in-between his legs and our eyes locked together. I squirmed in my seat.

"I've really got to go this time," Sharon said. "I'm already late. My father will be livid, you know. Stop Greg. Really I have to...."

Sharon's hand was holding his pocket now and part of the bulging was under it as her eyes danced and she started to move away. He blocked her and she moved his dangling hand off her crotch one more time, smiling coyly up at him as he kissed her deeper than before.

"Stop it," she said, but her hand was still holding his pocket. "I'm going now."

She did go and no one spoke as Greg stood in the doorway with his back to us. Someone grabbed a beer and the tall kid that came in with the two girls entered the shadows and the living room. I looked past him as Greg turned back to his party, and his eyes were sparkling with an evil glint that accompanied an absolutely wicked smile. He had his hand down on his bulge and his hips moved tantalizingly against it in slow motion.

"I'm Herb," the tall skinny kid said, thrusting forth a hand full of skinny long fingers for me to inspect.

"Martin."

"Yeah, Greg told me about you. I mean, I know Alfred. It was only logical you had to be you."

My eyes found the blue in his as he towered above us. I shook the waiting hand. He sat down on the opposite arm of the chair from Doug. His leg was pressed against my other shoulder as he stared back toward Greg.

"Hey, squirt."

"Don't call me that, Herbert."

Doug's voice had lost its pleasant lilt. It wasn't nasty or unpleasant, just firm. Even angry Doug was nice. The two boys looked at one another in a way that told me they were friends in spite of their words.

"What's up Doug?"

"Not much, just hoping you guys will go home so I can watch some TV."

"They'll quiet down once the girls are gone. Everyone is competing right now. Greg's working Sharon hard."

"Says he'll nail her soon," Doug said.

"Not going to happen, Squirt. Her father's a general. Greg ain't that dumb."

"Don't call me that. Says she's good as screwed."

"Sorry! Old habits are hard to break. Maybe he is," Herbie said, looking back into the dinning room. "That's dumb. Boy's dick is bigger an his brain. Says you ain't much at pool."

Herbie talked fast and I wasn't always sure what we were talking about but his eyes fell down on me as I sat between them. I knew my face was turning red. I looked straight toward the beer bucket and decided it wasn't a question.

"He's cool, Martin," Doug said. "Relatively harmless."

"Unless you bend over in front of me. I can be deadly under those circumstances, huh Squirt... Doug."

Herbie said stuff that sounded silly but I knew exactly what we were talking about. I just couldn't imagine someone so casual about it when we didn't even know one another. I knew the implications of his statement. I just didn't know how serious I should take him. I glanced up to get a clearer look at his face.

"He's also the only guy hornier than my big brother," Doug said. "But he's cool about it."

"Not either."

"So."

"Not."

"So,"

"Maybe I am. He's getting worse though."

"Can't get any worse, Herbie. It's all that's on his mind. I live with him remember."

I looked at Doug first before asking the question that was on my mind. "Does he? Do you?"

Both of them gave me a long hard look and I shut up. They knew what I was asking and I knew what the answer meant.

"One of the girls you came in with your girlfriend?" I asked.

"Nah, they just live up near me. I gave 'em a ride."

"Where's your girlfriend," I said, figuring Herbie was at least a year older than me and perhaps more.

"Don't have one."

"Oh!"

"Nah, not with Gregie and Tommy and Georgie around? I'm no competition for the lover boys. They get the girls. I get... whatever."

"If you didn't act so crazy you'd do better," Doug said pointedly.

"Sorry, boo-boo, just can't help myself. I'm a crazy kind of a guy. It's my nature. You know that."

"Too crazy sometimes," Doug said.

"All sixteen-year-olds are supposed to be crazy. My old man tells me that. He was crazy when he was my age."

"Damn! You're only sixteen?" I asked.

"Yeah! I'm younger by a year than the rest of them."

"You look older. Older than all of them."

"Hard life. It ages you. Military brats age faster than civvies. I have a birthday soon."

"Why's that, the aging thing?" I asked.

"I don't know. We see the world, live in other countries with other cultures, and we have to deal with new stuff all the time. Making friends, trying to fit in, wanting to be liked, it all ages you, dude."

"Tell me about it," Doug said. "Moving is the pits."

"Yeah! It's hard starting over every couple of years, ya know. You've got to know how to do stuff to make friends. Have them like you. When you're crazy it's even harder."

"Yeah! You know all about doing stuff, Herbie." Doug said.

"Shut up, Squirt. You're just a little kid. You don't know shit about shit."

"I know all about you, Herbert."

"Fuck you. You don't know jack."

"Fuck you. Do too. Want to shoot some pool?"

"Sure, just I ain't losin' to you, Squirt" Herbie said, standing up. "Come on. You do shoot pool don't you? Oh yeah, good hands."

Herbie was looking straight at my face when he said it. I fought the blush and looked down at my feet when I stood up.

"Yeah! I've been practicing," I said.

"He's already gone round the world with the king," Doug said.

"I know, and since I don't have any money, I guess we'll have to see who goes around the world tonight," Herbie said. "Only thing these parties are good for."

"Herbie, you are so uncoordinated you might as well give it up right now," Doug said, "your lips are mine."

"Nah! Besides, I like the challenge. I'll beat you yet. Then you'll pay up, boo-boo. I'm getting better."

"Not in your lifetime, Herbert," Doug said. "My lips are safe."

Herbie was at least half a foot taller than Doug was and he wasn't as heavy. They looked like the odd couple as Doug led the way through the back of the living room to a staircase that led down to the back of the recreation room I remembered. I sat nursing my beer as Herbie lost all his clothes down to his underwear in about an hour. Doug lost only his shoes and that was because he sank the eight ball at the wrong time.

Tom and George came down to stand and talk, waiting for a turn at the table I suspected but unable to evict Doug because it was his table. Everyone got a laugh out of Herbie's uncoordinated style. He was a natural comedian and only seemed to be becoming aware of his ability to make people laugh. The amount of booze he had consumed did nothing to improve his shot selection or concentration.

"We'll let those two have a go, Herbie. I don't want to see your skinny ass again," Doug said. "They can get in on your action if you want. It will keep you off the street even if not out of trouble."

"Yeah! Spare us, Herb," Tom said. "We want to play awhile before you wear us all out."

"My ass is fine," Herbie said, dropping his under shorts to his knees so we could judge for ourselves. No one looked but me.

I was already straining in my pants even though Herbie's body wasn't anything to write home about. There was something about being down there where I had my first sexual experience that had me hornier than usual. There was that musk smell that reminded me of Greg and now Herbie was removing the final garment between him and glory. No one paid any attention to his muttering until he tossed his underwear into the air and they came down on the corner of the table. His ass was skinny and his legs and arms were long. He kept his back turned.

While there wasn't much I found attractive about Herbie's body, he was attractive in a strange sexual way, and I found I wasn't the only one that stared once he was naked. His bold behavior got him noticed in ways that you don't think would interest other boys, but the other two elbowed each other and giggled unrestrained.

"You seen it," George said, leaning to whisper in Tommy's ear.

"No. Hear it's long."

"A foot," George said.

"No!"

On cue Herbie turned and he hung well down beyond the range of his smooth dangling nuts. A tiny patch of dark pubes ran over the top and without being particularly neatly arranged, allowing for the full appreciation of his length. It hung there harmless as we all took note of his size.

"Show him how big it gets, Herb," George said. "Let's see that foot long hot dog of yours."

"I don't want to see that," Tommy objected while not looking away. "Boy's deformed if it's as big as you say."

"It's dead," Herbie said apologetically.

"Come on. Just let him see. He don't believe me," George said.

Herbie moved forward three steps until he could sit down on the papers that were piled under the stairs. He ran his hand on the top of the papers and I remembered where Greg had stood while whipping himself up into a lather. Herbie leaned back, closed his eyes, and with a half a dozen strokes it was standing out just like a foot long hot dog.

Herbie stood and walked to the corner of the table, placing his nuts in the pocket, he ran the length of it on the felt. He had no modesty and showed no sign of embarrassment.

"This what you wanted... to see, George."

"Damn," Tommy said. "Fucker's a foot."

"My shot," Herbie said, fondling his cue in sensual strokes that had it swelling even more.

"Damn," Tommy said. "How can you fuck anyone with that."

"I aint had nary a complaint yet."

Doug started to laugh and the attention went from Herbie's endowment to the fifth step leading up toward the hall next to the dinning room where Doug had sat down. The front of George's pants stood out to one side and there was some action in Tommy's as well. They both watched as Herbie fondled himself.

It was then that the door above Doug opened and I heard Greg's voice.

"I've got the next game," he shouted. "You punks make room for the king."

 

Discovering Gregory

Chapter 6

Moment Of Truth

There was both fear and exhilaration churning up my insides when I knew it was Greg on the steps. Two guys followed him down, Charlie and Tim. I'd seen them both upstairs standing across from Greg at one time. Tim stopped to talk to Doug and sat on the step above him.

Greg moved with the ease of a cat. His eyes immediately took in all of us. His attention swept past me and went toward George and Tommy. He already knew they had been engaged enough to develop their own bulges, but Greg's had lost some of its swagger, sliding down in his pants but moving around on his thigh as he walked toward us.

"Herbie, you should take lessons. I take it you want to get right on your knees, since you're already out of clothes."

Greg closed in on the table as he spoke. He looked back at Doug who shrugged an admission of victorious guilt from the stairs.

"Too bad he's too young to collect, Herbie. He's getting older. You better be careful."

"I'm not that young," Doug corrected. "And you know it."

"Comments from the Peanut Gallery. Come finish your game then, brother of mine. Let's see what you got."

Greg held out a cue to his brother as he leaned his butt against the table.

"I'm done," Doug said. "I don't need any more."

"That's what I thought." Greg turned back to Herbie. "Your skinny pecker is still growing."

"Biggest one in the house," Herbie said confidently.

"You've been ill informed, little boy. I've always been bigger than you. That ain't changed."

"Yeah!" Tim said from the stairs.

"You should know," Tommy said with a less than friendly tone and all heads turned toward Tim.

We were quickly looking at Herbie again.

"So is this an official challenge?" Greg asked.

"Sure. Official. I'm already naked. I got nothing to hide. All I got is on the table. You don't scare me."

Herbie pushed it down on the felt with two fingers before pushing it out on the felt.

Greg moved toward Herbie as though his reputation might be at stake. Everyone closed in around the table and I saw no reason why I shouldn't get a closer look. Doug stayed planted on the stairs but Tim leaped down and came over to the bottom of the table. Greg stood tall and confident and very close to Herbie.

"Your challenge. You hold them."

Greg unzipped his pants and fished out his cock. Herbie's long fingers deftly held them together as he took time to arrange them. Greg's was on top and it all but hid Herbie's except for the final few inches that were surrounded by his pubes. Greg's still had some bend in it but it slowly lengthened to Herbie's touch, expanding over the top of Herbie's as we watched it growing and changing it's color. It darkened from a delicate tan to a reddish brown.

"Told you," Herbie said. "Mine's always been longer than yours, Greg."

"Longer but not bigger. We are talking size not length. I make two of you and then some even considering that extra inch or two you have. I'm still the king. You lose."

"See, even you admit mine's longest. I win," Herbie declared.

It was true. Greg's dwarfed Herbie's in thickness. Everyone watched intently but Doug. Everyone seemed to have his own reaction to the competition. I'd never felt quite like that before, knowing everyone at the table was sporting a bone and everyone knew we were all on a hard was pure excitement for me. Not to mention two of them were fully exposed for all of us to see. It made the air seem thin and my heart race.

Then Greg was working his back into his pants. The front of Tim's pants pressed into the table and I could see where they pushed out in the front. Charlie stood next to him and his pants matched Tim's in ballooning affect.

"I guess that means it's my table since you lose, Herb."

"Hey, Greg, I'm leaving. I want to grab a beer on the way out. It's a long walk home."

"Charlie, it's Friday night. Loosen up will you," Greg protested.

"Old man gave me until ten o'clock. I'm going to run late as is."

"When's he going to give you a break, dude?"

"Never I guess. See you. Can I get that beer?"

"Take two - they're small."

Charlie headed up the stairs, mussing Doug's hair as he went. Herbie walked away with Tim following him to the stairs where they stood by the stairs and talked. Herbie's pecker never lost its enthusiasm and Tim didn't seem to notice that the boy he was talking to was naked. Herbie went and sat down next to Doug as Tim turned around and stood just below them. They all laughed but I couldn't hear what they were saying. They weren't nearly as interesting with Herbie mostly hidden from my view.

It wasn't hot down there and I wondered how he kept from being cold. Mine would have been shriveled up by this time with all those guys standing around and the lack of heat. I could hear Herbie's voice loudest as the three boys talked.

Greg racked the balls carefully. I surveyed the other guys but I was most interested in the three on the steps. Alfred came clomping down the stairs two at a time and laughed when he got to the bottom of the steps. He turned and looked back up at Herbie.

"That boy's naked as a baby duck's B'hind," Alfred declared in an astute observation only he could make.

"Alfie, my man. Pool time. We can play first. I've been hoping you'd stay."

"I guess," Alfred said without laughter. "I didn't expect so many of them. You said we was going to play... never mind."

Tim stood next to Herbie and had moved far enough up on the stairs that he had to lean down to see the pool table. From time to time he checked to see who was playing but Doug and Herbie didn't seem to care about the game. Herbie then jumped up and disappeared up the stairs about the time Alfred lost his second shoe. His ass really wasn't skinny. It was small but had a round shape consistent with his narrowness. I was disappointed he had gone.

Tim stood for a moment and then went upstairs as well. Doug stayed on the steps and started watching the game. He then got up and went upstairs as well. It was now Charlie, Tommy, George, Alfred, Greg, and me. Alfred lost his shirt during the time I was thinking about other things.

Doug came back about ten minutes later and he handed me a beer and sat next to me.

"Where'd they go?" I asked.

"Timmy's on the bashful side. He doesn't stay down here for the games."

"Bashful? Did he notice Herbie didn't have a stitch on?"

"Yeah, I think he knew about that. He's bashful about getting naked not seeing naked guys."

"Oh," I said. "They're together?"

"You going to play?",  Doug asked me.

"I don't know."

"How does it work with all of these guys? I figured Greg and one or two more."

"You plays the game, you take your chances. You got to figure the odds are six to eight to one that you won't be it. It's the reason most guys stay. They figure odds are in their favor."

I counted twelve guys and three girls. What happened to the rest of them?"

"They use the bedroom upstairs. They bring beer, drink beer, do what they do. Some hang like Charlie and leave before the games begin."

"Does Charlie know?"

"Sure. He's got a bad old man. He can't stay out - most of them know. Some stay from time to time. Some never stay. Most of them have been in on it at one time or another."

"Really?"

"Yeah, my parents always have a summer place. They spend most of their time gone on the weekends during the summer and a few weeks. Even in Germany we became party central on summer weekends. Guys look forward to it." "What's the deal with strip pool. That what everyone does? What's the point? I never heard of it around here."

"Yeah! Everyone but Tim. He'll leave before the pool game starts nowadays."

"Why's that?"

"He played once but he lost pretty bad. He was new then and didn't know any of us. His best buddy brought him up. He was too embarrassed after that to play again. He won't stay down here once the big game starts."

"What happened?"

"He lost. Like I said. He had to go round the room. That's the gamble you take when you play."

"What's that?"

"You sure you want to know? Martin, you seem like a nice fellow and you'd probably be best going home or to a movie or something, or upstairs with them and you can ask Herbie and Tim the questions."

"What are they doing?"

"Tim and Herbie are friends. Herbie's the only one that doesn't cut him down for what he did that was here that night. And me. You don't want to be friends with the rest of these guys. You'll find out if you hang around. They take what they can get out of you and they don't care."

"But Herbie's cool. Isn't he?"

"Yeah, Herbie's the coolest of these guys. He's harmless once you get used to him. You sure you want to go through with this, Martin? I'll stay down if you do."

"Sure I'm sure," I said. "You don't have to stay on account of me."

"He never picks me. I'm bullet proof because I live here."

"You get to see what goes on. I bet you've seen plenty."

"Okay, I'm only going to warn you once. If you lose twice after you lose all your clothes, you give every guy in the room a hand job. That's why guys that don't play go upstairs. You can go up after you lose your underwear."

"Even you," I said, unable to hide my thoughts.

"I don't usually play. I'm just here most of the time. You're going to stay?"

"I've never done anything like this before. Part of me wants to stay and part of me isn't sure. What did Tim do if every one knows about the game? Why get down on him when he just lost a game?"

"It got a bit out of hand. He got with the guy that brought him over. He did stuff he didn't have to do. Then other guys got in on the action. He was drunk. I don't think he knew what he was doing."

"Who was the friend that brought him over."

"Tommy. They don't associate much any more."

"Wow!"

"It's what you were about to do to Greg when I showed up the other day. Take the king round the world. It doesn't go any further than that if you don't let it, but some guys...."

"I wasn't either going to do that," I said, not even convincing myself. Doug laughed and shook his head.

"Right. I was only there, Martin. Remember me. I don't give a fuck, it's just fooling around. Everyone loses from time to time - everyone but Greg."

"He never loses?"

"Not yet."

"Would he pay up if he lost?"

"He hasn't lost yet that I've ever heard about. He'd have to pay."

"He is good," I said, as Alfred tossed his pants onto the table before racking the balls.

"He is the king. Everyone here right now has done it to everyone else here right now. That's why it works. Everyone knows what happens if they lose. They won't come down and then talk about it. New guys always lose so the older guys figure they're here on a pass. That means you or Alfie. I'm not going to make it any clearer to you, Martin. You ought to go."

"You mean everyone here right now has... you know?"

"Maybe not Alfred. I've never seen him do it, but he's new. Greg's just found him. He was coming up with some other guys;  now he comes alone. Greg wouldn't let me hang out when they were here. He says I talk too much. He says I tell his business to everyone. I just tell the ones I like and don't want to see used by this crew."

"Why's that?"

"Never mind, Martin. I answered enough of your questions. You stay, and you'll get your shot. He doesn't do solos that often. He must like you if you're back so soon."

"What's that mean?"

"He likes a crowd. He likes to show off. Doing solos isn't his style unless he's working on someone."

"Show off what?" I asked.

"What do you think. You seen his? He's got one hell of a pecker on him. Loves having it admired while people watch."

"You're his brother, why do you...?"

"So what. We live in the same house. He's a perv. What do you expect me to do? I know what's going on. I've been his brother all my life, Martin."

"You running off at the mouth again, Squirt," Greg growled standing over where Doug and I sat. "Whose a perv, shithead?"

"Just telling him the rules."

"I can tell him just fine. I want you next, Squirt, and I haven't forgotten you still owe me, Martin. I'm getting to you so don't feel left out. You should have finished up while we were alone."

"You know I don't play at these things," Doug said unconvincing.

"You had Herbie down to his birthday suit, brother of mine. You play pretty damn well. Where is that skinny shit anyway? Someone go find him, he's not out of it yet."

"I'll go," I said, "I need to piss."

"Bring me a beer," Greg said, looking at me. "Don't get too far. You're next, kid."

"Good luck, dude," I said to Doug as I passed behind him.

I went up the stairs and roamed into the living room and back to the kitchen on to the back porch but there was no Herbie or Tim. Since Herbie's clothes were downstairs, I figured he hadn't gotten too far, but I wasn't too sure about him.

I stood in the bathroom taking piss and I heard voices that sounded close. I went out into the hall and opened the door to the room across from the bathroom. There was a big double bed but the room was empty. There was one more room next to the bathroom further down the hall and I heard the voices again as I went over to the door. It was cracked a few inches but it was pitch black inside.

"Just a few more minutes," I heard Herbie say.

"Okay, but I want to leave before they get done. I don't want Tommy seeing I'm still here."

"No one comes in here but Doug and Greg, and you said you don't mind them."

"As long as Tommy doesn't know I'm here. I don't care. I was going to stay over at Patty's tonight if Tommy came, but I'll stay if you like."

"You still going with her."

"We're just friends, Stick."

"Right! You're screwing her aren't you? You can tell me."

"Sure, Herbie. I'm screwing her."

"She got a friend, Tim?"

"Yeah, me, asshole."

It got quiet for a couple of minutes and I wasn't sure if I should say anything. Then I figured Greg might send someone else so it was better if I got Herbie before someone else came up.

"Herbie."

"Fuck," Herbie said with an indignant sound in his voice.

"Greg's looking for you."

"He playing?" Herb asked.

"Yes... what do you want me to tell him? He might send someone else if I don't know where you are."

"I'll be right there," Herbie said. "Tell him I'm taking a dump, okay."

"Right!" I answered.

"You want me to wait for you?" Timmy asked.

"Just do it a couple more minutes. He won't come up yet. We can get together later on if you stay in here."

"He might send Tommy up."

"Just a few more minutes, Tim. Don't stop now. Martin won't say anything."

I wanted to look but I'd miss my opportunity to simply open the door. Now Herbie was saying I was cool. I couldn't go against that. Somehow I didn't think it was right just busting in on them. I did want to see what was going on but I didn't want to upset anyone. It was also pretty dark so I wasn't sure I would see anything even if I did look. Life's shitty some times.

"He's taking a shit," I said as I passed by the table on my return to the basement. I handed Greg his beer.

He held his beer up and out toward me before taking a long swig that had foam running down the corner of his mouth. I thought he was saying thank you, but he was saying something else.

"I've been waiting for you, Martin. Want to play a little game."

"It's got to be little. I'm not very good."

I moved up to the table as my mouth went dry and my crotch tightened against my pants while I made the confession of inadequacy. Doug handed me the cue as he passed behind me.

"Good luck, dude," Doug whispered after me. He had a sympathetic look on his face and no shoes and socks on his feet.

Herbie was still naked when he came down the stairs five minutes later and his cock had turned a strange color of red that looked odd against his milky white skin. It seemed excited but then, I thought, why shouldn't it be. I knew what was going on upstairs. No one else paid him any mind.

"You owe me a shoe, kid."

"Huh?" I said absently, looking away from where Herbie now leaned.

"Earth to Martin. Shoe," Greg growled.

"Oh yeah," I said, adding my shoe to the pile and wondering, with so many balls on the table how could the game be over already? I placed my second shoe right next to Greg's shoes. Doug was no doubt the second best player there.

 

Discovering Gregory

Chapter 7

Cut To The Bone

With Greg drinking quite a lot of beer, he seemed even more intense than ever. He stood kidding with Herbie and he insulted Doug a few times, but he paid little attention to me except to quickly claim my shoes. I noticed his shoes were off as well. I looked at Doug, thinking he was the only one I hadn't watched lose to Greg.

Alfred and Herbie sat together on the stairs after Herbie casually strolled down the steps while we were playing. Alfred found it convenient to the beer tub and Herbie wanted to stay out of Greg's way since he was closest to being it.

"You're too easy, Martin. I still want to play awhile. You sit down for now. Tom, how about some pool? At least you give me some competition."

Tom acted surprised about Greg's choice. He moved right up to the table but he didn't look real pleased. George moved back a little further to hide the fact he was fully dressed. Tom got down to his undershorts after some lousy shooting and bad shot choices. He looked around for his replacement but Greg was still in charge.

"You gonna rack? I've been letting you off easy since we came back from Germany, Tom."

"You said it was going to be that...."

"SH! SH! SH! We still like to play pool now don't we?"

"Yeah, sure."

Tom looked less than happy as he glanced around at us. Herbie and Alfie were already as exposed as he was or more so in Herbie's case, but they weren't at the table. Tom looked to be Greg's age and they were the same general size except Tom was far less defined. His hair was a light brown and his skin had a reddish tone but they were closely matched in everything I could see except pool.

When Tom dropped his underwear, the first thing I noticed was how white his ass was. He placed them on the pile of clothes he had been building. He stooped, looking apprehensively over the cushion towards Greg as he tossed the balls back on the table. When he stood back up, one of his hands had dropped down so he could hold it in front of what seemed to be a fair amount of equipment. Tom shifted from one leg to another and watched Greg survey the table.

"No! You can sit down for awhile. There are lots of guys with plenty of clothes for the taking. Don't bend over in front of Herbie."

"Up yours, shithead," Herbie said.

"In your dreams," Greg quipped. "Georgie, let's play pool."

George was handsome but not in a manly way. There was something feminine about him and I couldn't figure out what it was. Perhaps it was the way he moved or the sound of his soft voice, which lacked any bass-tone. I had never before been a keen observer of people. I pretty much didn't look at anyone too closely up until then. Of all of the guys who were there George seemed most suited to the game Greg played. He politely removed his clothing without emotion or any sign of discomfort or hesitation.

George was about the same height as Doug and I. His skin was pale. It wasn't the milky white of Herbie's, seeming to lack color rather than being colored white. He was a fairly good size boy and yet he was thin and undefined. The California sun bleach blond hair was all that he had cultivated so far. He was obviously Greg's age and yet his body was more like Doug's. He wasn't unattractive even once he was naked and when his underwear hit the floor, his cock did a slow rise until it stood straight up and out at a forty-five degree angle. Greg stood there looking at him for a minute until the erection was complete before waving him away.

Of all the boys there, George was the only one who didn't have a tough exterior that could be used to deflect Greg's insults and derision. I still hadn't figured out what the attraction was for these guys? I knew what it was for me, and if I didn't sense something more behind those cold and calculating eyes I wouldn't have given Greg the time of day. If I worked it right I was going to find the missing piece of the puzzle.

Most of these guys looked like the All-American boy, well, except for Herbie, and I still wasn't sure about him. The rest of the boys were fresh scrubbed with tightly cut hair and neat, clean clothing. Even their jeans looked pressed. Greg and Doug wore the only jeans that had been suitably faded. The rest were far too blue to be acceptable for most high school kids.

What were they doing down here waiting for other guys to get naked? I had no sexual experience Greg hadn't given me, and I wanted more, and that's what I was doing there, but what were these guys doing down here? What was it about a dark dank basement that had a half a dozen guys standing around expectantly? Why were they ready to expose themselves and risk being exposed?

"Martin, we have unfinished business."

Greg examined me closely before mentioning my name. His eyes made regular trips around the basement.

I was quickly out of my socks and shirt. I took some precautions for the event, wearing an extra long T-shirt to hide what I was sure would be my hard cock. I'd also kept my jock on after gym class and figured that would last me an extra turn. Once the T-shirt was gone they would see that I was excited by the game as well as the prospects that I might be furthering my sex education.

I'd never been soft since getting down in the basement and it worried me everyone would somehow know how much more I was turned on by the game and their nudity. Every time I looked over toward the stairs and the stack of papers where I'd watched Greg masturbating, my stomach would tighten and my insides would churn. With so many guys around what were the chances of me having any time alone with him? But if I lost the same boys would be my consolation, and I wasn't all that sure I didn't want to lose.

George had gotten up and walked behind Greg and was talking to Doug as he stood next to my chair. His cock still stood out of his sparse blond pubes. He didn't seem to mind that everyone could see his hard cock, and Doug was his usual friendly self. I could never be that casual in front of so many guys.

"Pants, T-shirt, what will it be. Take your choice, take your time, take something off, Martin."

"Huh," I said, looking away from George's presents.

"You lose," Greg said. "You've got to learn to concentrate, Martin. Keep your mind on the table. Plan your shots."

"Yeah. Okay."

I counted five balls I still had on the table. I pulled off my pants and let my T-shirt fall almost to my knees. Greg shook his head and turned his back while I racked. My mouth was getting dry and I didn't know how I would handle handling an endless supply of cock. The thought both thrilled and frightened me but the pulsing in my underpants told me the fear wasn't about the other boys.

George came closer to the table as I pulled off my T-shirt after sinking the eight ball on my first shot. I didn't do it intentionally; at least I don't think I did. His eyes kept dropping down to where I was bulging out.

Alfred came over to the table with Herbie following close behind, minus his boner. I was sure I was about to know what it was like being it. The thought that all of these guys had been it at one time or another didn't help my level of disorientation. It was becoming difficult for me to breathe and the room seemed to be closing in on me, but it was only the other boys getting a better view.

After twenty or thirty plus games, Greg was still only minus his shoes and a single sock, and he lost the sock when he put the eight ball in on one of his infrequent bad shots.

Greg thoughtfully measured the way I racked the balls. He checked out my narrow chest and skinny legs. Everyone watched him preparing for the kill. No one said anything now. Tom got up to lean on the pole closest to the table and his ruddy red cock had started to rise up out of his rusty brown pubes. Everyone seemed ready to close in for the kill, save Doug, who leaned back in the folding chair.

"No, I don't want you, Martin. Georgie, Georgie, you look so anxious and out standing there with your pecker poking out. You've never been so ready before. You been using fertilizer on that thing or are you just hornier than usual? Let's see, two games and you'll be... aren't I correct? You can give that thing something to strain about. Soft hands are so much nicer than rough hands don't you think?"

"I guess. I've been locked up on the base for two weeks."

As provocative as his words could have been I couldn't read anything into them. George was there and he'd go along with however the game turned out. He didn't seem worried.

"You should be fun then, huh? All that pent up energy you seem to have down there. You can break if you like. Just don't use that or you'll crush the cue ball for sure."

George looked at Greg oddly as I took his place beside Doug, hoping for invisibility. I was relieved but not convinced this was the final act. Greg didn't sound convincing and George seemed way too easy. I had the feeling that Greg didn't get too much enjoyment out of easy.

"Dude, what have you got in there?", Doug asked, "You look like you have your spare socks on under your underwear. That's weird, Martin."

"My jock," I said.

"Your jock," Doug laughed. "Your jock? You expecting a rough game or what? Your jock! What else is in there?"

Doug knew by the look on my face exactly what it was. His eyes told me he no longer wanted the answer. Until then I didn't know how obvious it was to everyone else. I started to blush.

"I'm still not sure what to expect. I just wore my jock, that's all."

Doug leaned over to whisper in my ear after the break.

"This is when it gets interesting. Greg will get the one he's after in the end. George isn't sure it won't be him. Usually Greg goes for a new guy. With my brother you never know for sure."

"George doesn't play much?" I asked.

"His father's a general. He was away on TDY for awhile. He used to stay over every weekend when we first came. Greg and him were best friends until we moved and Greg changed schools. They ran around together in Germany the last few months."

"All these guys were in Germany?"

"Alfred and you weren't. Yeah, most of the guys that came tonight were over there with us. It runs in cycles. When duty stations change we usually end up with quite a few people from the last station."

"You think it will be him?"

"I'm still betting on you or Alfred. You better make sure you want the pool cue when he asks the next time. Even with the jock you got about five minutes at most. You can still leave, Martin. The only reason I stayed down was to help you out, but I can't help you now and he never picks me any more."

I was surprised to see George's dick turning red as they played. There was something exciting him and looking at him made me feel like my mouth was full of cotton. It pulsed up and down as he leaned on his cue watching Greg shoot.

"You're ready to bogey," Greg said, looking him over carefully after putting the first loss on him.

"You always stand back in the corner, Tommy. You'd think you didn't like my dick any more. You used to give the best hand jobs over there. Come on, let's see what you got. George has shown us what he can do."

Tommy pushed himself away from the pole. His dick died, going from half-hard to almost completely soft in a minute. George slipped him the cue, and Tom shrugged, giving George a meek smile as though he was ready to accept his fate.

Tom looked pretty good until he sunk the eight ball on his third shot. He bent badly and dropped his pool cue on the table in exasperation. His face had a pleading look on it as he stared up at Greg's face.

"Come on, Greg. You never pick me any more. I'm no fun at all. These guys all know me. You don't want me. Please!"

"You're right," Greg said.

Looking at Doug, "Brother of mine, your turn, you've been running your mouth all night."

Doug leaned away from me cautiously saying, "Maybe I was wrong. He's never played it like this before. Oh well, not like I ain't seen it all."

When Doug got up I felt really alone. I was on one side of the table and everyone else was on the other side. It's like I felt a lot. I really didn't have anything in common with any of them. I was there for only one reason and I wasn't sure why they were there. I was always worried that people would know what I was thinking. Did they all know I wanted to be it so I could see what it was like touching them? I wanted to be there because I wanted to find out about other boys.

Doug was thin, but his body had a nice shape. He looked like Greg probably looked a year or two before. I was sure there were no more than two years between them. Doug looked a bit angry when Greg won his under shorts.

Doug had little hair, but his cock hung further down than almost anyone except Herbie. Like the rest of him, it was smooth, appealing, and cut with exacting care. He showed us his good looking smile before bowing to shoot us the moon. I didn't miss anything and Tom moved to get a closer look.

Everyone chuckled at Doug's antics, and Greg didn't seem to know how to handle Doug when he promptly took the second sock and Greg's shirt. When Greg pealed off the tight T-shirt, his tan chest dominated his body.

Greg was a bit peeved at how easily Doug took his over-exposure and winning two straight games didn't help any. There was no sign of excitement or expectation that I could see on either of them. Doug hadn't quite lost his boyish charm but he had definitely crossed over into adolescents in a big way. I thought Doug was definitely the best looking and least mature. Greg was the closest to manhood.

"You know if you come down here to play you're going to pay one day, little brother. Go wave your weenie at Martin. I don't want to see that skinny thing."

Greg's words weren't masked in anything for a change. He stated a fact but it wasn't a threat. He waved his hand after putting one more loss on Doug.

"The moment of truth is approaching."

Doug leaned back in his chair as he spoke the words. His hairless balls touched the chair between his wide spread legs.

As I took my survey of the wonderful boy next to me I lost my place, but Greg hadn't lost his. He turned and looked directly at me. I swallowed hard and started to get up. "Alfred, we've been playing pool for a long time. Let's see if you are man enough to go for it all. You don't mind one-on-one and this is just a few more of my closest friends. What do you say?"

"I'm drunk," Alfred said and his eyes fell directly on me as his face turned an odd shade of red. I expected him to collect his pants and leave.

"Exactly, you'll never remember anything you did tonight by tomorrow morning."

"I could win," Alfred said without believing in it.

"Yes, you could," Greg assured him.

"I know Martin," Alfred said, careful not to look at me this time. "If it wasn't for that. I mean I'm drunk enough but...."

"We all know each other, Alfie. We're all friends. Everyone loses at least once, right guys? You want to keep coming up, don't you?"

Greg broke and two high balls and a low ball went in. He had two balls left to sink when Alfred got his first shot. With only his underwear for cover there would only be three games. It seemed odd that his underwear picked this time for it to start tenting out.

Tom's dick had also hardened for good this time and both his and George's seemed to be charged with excitement as they watched. Herbie sat alone on the stairs unconcerned and I couldn't see what condition his was in.

"Come on. I don't want any part of this," Doug said. "You don't want to see your friend do this do you?"

We went over and sat by Herbie as Alfie's underwear was falling. He was surprisingly hairy and as small as he was, his dick was as good as anyone's. It did not lack for excitement and it was poker straight, swinging from side to side as he played.

Alfred sunk the eight ball on his third shot after Greg broke with no success. He was down to his last game and Tom had moved up to the corner of the table.

"I got to get out of here soon," he announced, mostly to Greg.

"Okay, you can take my place, Tom, but remember it for later."

"Yeah, sure Greg, thanks. I just haven't done anything all week. You know how it is. I don't want to go home hard up."

When Greg made his eight ball shot in the next game, he stopped while he was still leaning over the table. He made eye contact with Alfred and then reached up and pulled the cord that eliminated all the light around the table. With the light on at the top of the stairs you could only see shadows in the basement.

I knew that Tom was already standing beside Alfred and I could see the movement that indicate Alfred was in the process of fulfilling his obligations to the game.

"Not so rough," Tom said. "A little faster though."

It got silent as my eyes adjusted to the limited light. The only noise was some heavy breathing and a sound reminiscent of when I lay in bed late at night and thought about Greg while satisfying myself.

Greg stood across the table from them and George had moved up to the corner where Tom had stood in waiting.

"You staying all night Alfred?" Greg asked.

"I told you I would. I'm too drunk to go home. The old man would wail the tar outta me."

"Good enough. We can take care of business later on."

Tom's knees started to bend and he put one hand out to lean against the table for the grand finale. The sounds they were making grew louder as no one else interrupted the payoff. I was feeling a bit warm pressed against Doug on the steps with Herbie leaning back against my knees.

"Let's go up and watch some tube," Doug said, standing up so that the light shinned on him as he faced me. I couldn't help but take one more complete look at his body. He smiled and put his hand on my shoulder before he went up the steps.

"You coming, Herbie?"

"No, not right now, Boo Boo. I'll hang here for a few minutes just to see how it all comes out."

Herbie's voice was strained and he stood and started into the shadows toward the pool table. I caught sight of the erection that now stood out in front of him.

"How about you, Martin. He's your friend."

"Yeah, I'm coming."

I wanted my pants but I figured I wasn't going back in there after them just then. It was obvious they'd be busy for awhile and spending time with Doug wasn't my idea of punishment. He didn't bother to dress and it didn't bother me any. When I followed him into the television room, Timmy was face down on the couch with a pillow over his head. He snored lightly and Doug turned on the television and turned off the light.

"Why does he stay all alone?" I asked.

"I told you. He did some shit and he's still embarrassed about it."

"What the hell are those guys down there doing?" I said.

"Martin, you don't understand. You can only go so far and it's the same as what everyone else does. You cross a line and you get labeled. He crossed the line and everyone knows it."

"You don't believe that shit. Tell me you don't believe that. He's just another kid."

"Of course I don't, but I'm not the one giving him a hard time, now am I."

"So Mr. I-got-to-be-first-getting-my-dick-whacked-off is okay but Timmy isn't. Is that how it is?"

"The queerest queer isn't always the one they call queer, Martin. Tom plays by the rules. Tim did more than he was required to do."

"What's the difference between doing it to a guy and having it done by a guy? I don't see the difference. Isn't it about the same thing? You're either having sex or you aren't."

"You need to be finding that one out on your own. I'm not Mr. Wizard. I know what I know and that's all I know. I try not to make stuff up if I can avoid it. I really don't like talking about it. It can only be getting me into trouble and you too. You ask way too many questions not to get someone wondering."

We watched an episode of Outer Limits on what was billed as Outer Limits Night All Night.

"That was awesome. You believe in aliens?"

"I suppose. I don't disbelieve," I said.

"Someone came up. You want a beer before they start up again?"

"Yeah, they going to come in here?" I asked.

"No, not while guys are still hanging around. Herbie will. Greg crashes upstairs. He has an arrangement with Alfred tonight. I'll sleep down here. You can use my bed upstairs or sleep in the chair. Suit yourself."

"They have an arrangement?"

"I heard them talking. If Alfred lost he was staying over with Greg all night."

"What if Greg lost?"

"They didn't mention that."

"So Alfred was always the one?" I said as though I'd just become enlightened.

"Yeah, he was. I think he knew it."

"Why didn't you tell me so I wasn't sweating the whole time?"

"There are some things you don't do, my man. That's one of them. I may not be smart but I'm not stupid. I still got to live with him when all you dudes split."

 

Discovering Gregory

Chapter 8

Post Game Interviews

The glow coming from the light of the television was bright enough for me to get another good look at Doug's body. I'd never seen guys so relaxed about their bodies and showing them to other boys. I never liked anyone seeing me naked. Doug moved around like he wasn't exposed to our eyes, and Herbie, he was walking around naked when everyone else had all his clothes on. He seemed to enjoy being naked in the midst of fully clothed boys. I didn't see any reaction to him roaming around that way. When the other boys joined him, he became a face in the crowd. Alfred was the only one to mention Herbie's bare ass look.

I stole looks at Doug when he wasn't aware of my curious eyes on him. I thought about the locker room in school where it was a race against time to see who could get dressed without having anyone see his pecker. None of these guys seemed to care if you looked and I wondered if the sex thing and the anticipation of having sex made their nudity less worrisome. In one evening I had not only seen every boy's cock while it was hard. Up until my first pool game with Greg, I'd only caught glimpses of boys in that condition.

"I'll bring you back a beer," Doug said right after the door opened again. I took a close look at his cock when he walked past my chair. With his back to the television and the only light source, my eyes had to strain to see anything.

Herbie came in two minutes after Doug left. He nodded at me and stood beside the chair where I sat. His cock was not quite soft and I had a good view of it with my peripheral vision. He was more interested in the television than if I was checking him out.

"Doug's sitting in the other chair," I said as though I needed to guard it.

"Yeah, I'll sit on the couch with Timmy. You didn't take a turn? You got something going with Doug or what."

"Nah. I wasn't in the mood. Was it okay?"

"Boys hands are like sandpaper. I thought he might take the skin off the way he went out it."

He moved to where Timmy was lying, moving his legs to make room for him to sit, and putting them on his lap once he sat down. Timmy moaned for a minute and then started snoring again.

"He staying all night?"

"Who knows, Boo Boo. He might be getting with his girl friend later on. He never knows what he's doing. Don't get the wrong idea just because we like fooling around."

"Fuck you," Timmy said through his sleep. "I said if Tommy was going to be around I would leave."

"He left as soon as he got his meat beat," Herbie said. "He was running late for something or other."

"Yeah, late for his old man to hide him again. He was suppose to be home at ten."

"He left here after eleven," Herbie said.

"Asshole," Timmy said. "He knows better an to cross his old man. Mean son-of-a- bitch. Why's he do it? I keep telling him to just listen to him."

"You still seeing him?" Herbie asked.

"He comes over when he's in a mood. He's just an asshole about it when you guys are around. He can be cool. He stayed all night last week and his old man never knew he wasn't home."

"You're a fool, Timmy. You know what he's after."

"Yeah, same thing you're always after," Timmy said with a rough edge in his voice.

"Greg was in a strange mood tonight," Herbie said, changing the subject. "You'd a liked it. He got them all naked, except Boo Boo over here. I think he has something special planned for this one. He's the only one who kept on his undershorts and whatever else it is he's hiding under there trying to make his dick look big."

Herbie laughed and pointing as Timmy turned around to look out from under the pillow to see what he was talking about.

"He's Martin?" Timmy asked, speaking to Herbie.

"Yeah, I'm him," I said.

"I'm Tim," he said. "He says you're cool."

"Cool enough not to come busting in here when I heard your voices earlier," I said.

They both looked at me with a bit of alarm.

"Doug doesn't need to be telling you about me. You want to know about me you ask me, okay? I'm right here, okay."

"He's your friend. He wouldn't tell me anything that wasn't meant to help you."

"So what did you hear when you were up here?" Timmy asked still looking over his shoulder at me.

"I heard enough to know you weren't watching television."

"I told you to close the door," Timmy said. "Don't I have enough trouble with these guys? Why do you do that shit, Herbie?"

"I was in a hurry. I thought I checked it," Herbie said.

"Whatever you were doing is not my business. I don't mess in stuff that isn't my business."

"Kewl," Herbie said. "Told you he was cool. Nobody's any the wiser."

"No thanks to you," Timmy said.

I figured it wouldn't hurt making points when I could. I don't know why I wanted Herbie as an ally but I did. Timmy seemed nice to me and that beat the hell out of mean and angry. He looked at me for awhile and seemed to be trying to make up his mind.

"We didn't do nothing," Timmy said without trying to convince me. "We was wrestling. This fool always wants to be wrestling me, don't you."

Timmy rolled onto his back and held the pillow on his chest as he dug his heel into Herbie's lap. They both giggled and Herbie tried to twist his ankles together so he'd roll onto the floor.

"That's just what I thought it was you were doing," I said, looking into the television. "You believe in aliens?"

"Sure, I better, my old man hires them to do the yard work. I'd be doing it if not for them."

Herbie cracked up and Timmy stared at him.

Timmy's cheeks were reddish, like a women's when they use that rouge stuff, only his wasn't make-up. With his blue eyes, and brownish reddish hair, he looked pretty neat to me. I mean he didn't look like the kind of guy you'd think was doing serious stuff with other boys. I'd heard him with Herbie and I knew they weren't talking about watching another minute of Outer Limits. I still found myself wishing I had busted in on them so I could have seen something more exciting.

Doug was wearing underwear when he returned with a beer.

"I suppose you guys want beer now?"

"Nah, Boo Boo, I'm kewl and he's sleeping," Herbie said, staring into the soft blur that at once became the crystal clarity of the Outer Limits.

"You sleeping?" Doug asked.

"Yeah, like a rock. Could I have just a sip," Timmy said. "My mouth is dry."

"I bet," Doug said, staring down at him.

"Here, you can have a sip of mine," I said, getting up to share my beer. His eyes went to the front of my underwear. He glanced up to see if I noticed and saw that I did. There was a meek smile and another quick glance when he handed the beer back.

"Thanks."

Doug lay down on the floor on his stomach as he looked up into the television. Timmy rolled over toward the back of the couch and stuck his head back under the pillow and Herbie sat with one of his hands on the back of Timmy's jeans. I tried to forget about the boys in the room with me and figured I'd watch some tube. I placed the small pillow that was behind me in the chair in my lap when I couldn't stop thinking about the back of Doug's underwear.

Whether it was the intensity of my excitement all evening or the lack of excitement in the Outer Limits episode, I don't know, but I fell asleep about half way through my third installment. I woke up when a loud commercial startled me. I immediately located Doug sleeping on the floor in front of the couch. Timmy had turned around and seemed to be sleeping with his head in Herbie's lap. There was a sheet over him and Herbie seemed to be sleeping as well.

I decided I needed to eliminate a little beer. I could hear guys talking somewhere in the house once I got out into the hall. I figured something was still going on and I eased myself back into the television room after my mission was accomplished and promptly went back to sleep without ever trying to see if Outer Limits might have something to offer.

The next time I woke up I could see some movement out of the corner of my eye. With the television going I didn't want to blow another chance at seeing some kind of sexual activity. I made an effort not to open my eyes past the slight squint it took to see if there was something I didn't want to miss.

Seeing Timmy's hand shoved down the back of Doug's underwear was a surprise. Doug must have been sleeping with his face turned toward the couch because he was not responding at all to the exploration of his ass. Timmy's hand had disappeared up past the wrist and I watched as he was checking out Doug's crack. I was immediately aroused by the contact, and I thought, how neat it would be to touch Doug that way.

When Herbie started to stir, Timmy pulled his hand away and disappeared under the sheet again. Herbie's feet were still on the floor but he had tilted over toward the middle of the couch. It got quiet and I had the urge to do something to myself but I wasn't about to do it there. I thought I might go up to Doug's bedroom and bed to release some of my pent up desire.

My underwear bulged seriously as I left the television room. I opened the door across the hall, thinking it was the staircase to the boy's bedroom. Much to my surprise it wasn't the door to the stairs that led upstairs. Instead it was the big bedroom I remembered from an earlier trip through the house. There in the middle of the bed lying flat on his stomach was George. The moon shinned brightly through the window next to the bed and bathed him in light.

I started to exit and go to door number two, but holding myself with thoughts of pleasure got my mind quickly onto George's pure white briefs which immediately got my attention. His ass  was plump and full and filled his underwear to the brim. I remembered Timmy's hand inside of Doug's underwear, and after all, what were we all doing there if not copping feels and getting excitement checking one another out? I remembered the way George had hovered around the pool table checking guys out. Now it was my turn to be checking him out.

I had never checked anyone out if you didn't count the brash and pushy boy, who spent most of his time keeping me off balance during our pool game. The exciting feel of his big hard cock was lost inside the wondering I was doing about why I was there with him instead of someone else, Why did he want me to come back? I was there and not Alfie or George or Timmy, and I couldn't be sure why he wanted me. This meant little or nothing except I wanted to touch naked warm flesh and Greg had offered me his. George hadn't offered but here he was.

Next to Doug, George was the best looking boy, and I did find him attractive, but most of the other boys could fill me with desire a lot faster than George. It had to do with the difference between being beautiful and being handsome, and it had to do with being manly and not being so manly. I wasn't sure what the difference was but there was a difference, but not one that was going to stop me now.

There was something else about George, should he wake up while I took certain liberties with his body, he would not be a threat to me. I'd offer him some compromise to alleviate any misconceptions that I might be taking advantage of him without being willing to give him the kind of pleasure he had come there to achieve. I didn't see it as a hard sell. Why had he come for after all, and I had seen his wide surveys of the same hard flesh I'd been attracted to. George wasn't that different from me and I could use that if need be where I could not be so sure about how some of the other boys might take my advances, should they become aware I was making them.

While I prepared my brain for what my hands were about to do, I still felt uneasy, nervous, and a bit sick at my stomach. What was I doing? Why was I taking a risk at all? This wasn't something you did to someone while they slept, but hadn't Timmy been doing it to Doug? This was the way it was done here. This was why we had come. This was why boys stayed. I was ready to join the club.

First I felt his bare legs before I felt the material in his underwear. It was soft and his cheeks were fleshy. It was exciting and there was more. He moved one leg by bending it at the knee, but his face stayed against his hands as he lay on a forty-five degree angle with his head close to the window and the light. His face remained serene and my hand moved along the crack and down between his legs to feel naked flesh. My cock throbbed and stretched my underwear.

When I felt the soft skin of his inner thigh on the back of my hand, it got my attention off his underwear. I ran my hand up and down on his skin. It was magnificently smooth and exciting. My hand moved back up until I could feel his balls by reaching through to where he was pressed against the bed. I tried to feel his cock but it was pressed against the mattress out of my reach. I didn't want to disturb him and so I went back to feeling his ass and in between his legs, rubbing him behind his balls using the cotton underwear to disguise my touch while one of his legs moved slightly and then the other moved.

I left my hand there for several minutes while I stared at his face. There was not a hint of anything but sound sleep. I saw him drinking beer. How many I didn't remember. They all drank plenty, and without further consideration my hand became wedged between the waistband of his underwear and his naked skin.

I could feel my heart thumping wildly inside my chest. The feel of him was incredible. The thought I was doing it without his knowledge was thrilling beyond explanation. I think it had more to do with being able to do it without declaring to anyone that I was a boy who wanted to feel the bodies of other boys. Should other boys become aware of my desire, even boys who stood around letting other boys feel their pricks, might find the wanting of it a dangerous thing.

As my fingers pushed into his silken crack I could not get them back. The warmth and attraction propelled my fingers deeper into the crevice. There was no particular interest in the rough ridged spot that marked the center of where my interest drew me, until I felt it that is. There was a roughness that was tempting and more enchanting than any forbidden part of him I'd touched.

It wasn't of interest until I was there and then it's possibilities started to awaken something inside of me. As my fingers studied it his legs spread and moved further apart. I had the access I wanted and needed and I rubbed him and leaned my face against the fabric that held his ass cheeks. I smelled the smell of soap and something sweet. Not a trace of his own scent could be found.

The thought he might be coming awake occurred to me, but it was too late for worry. I wasn't going to be able to stop. The fear was mixed with the lust and the thrill and my fingers moved through until they held his balls. As my hand held them he lifted up in yet another move of availability that had my hand on his cock without ever intending to go there.

My fingers were immediately feeling his iron prick. I squeezed firmly as his hips responded with a thrust that had the entire shaft slid through my hand until it was against his blond pubic hair. I could feel his hips working to make my hand a conduit for his steel shaft. I moved from the awkward position and found he was turned enough for his cock to be out from under him. I peeled down his underwear and grasped the shaft. By getting close behind him it became easy to reach around him and to stroke him at a good speed.

After my naked chest moved against his back, my feel for him increased. It took me time to get my full attention back to his prick, and I found it was thick and pulsed as I kept a firm grip. The thought came to me that he had to be awake to be so wanton with his twisting body. With this new activity his underwear had come off his ass and was down below his balls in the front. Without any objection I was aware of, I decided it was time to free my own desire to let it wander freely in between the cheeks of his ass. It immediately became bold enough to slide up the entire crack. I could not resist retrieving it so that it could follow the same path a second time. Much to my delight his ass stayed firmly in place and I pressed against him from my knees to my shoulders.

Before I could gain control of the situation his body began to increase the intensity of its motion and his response to my handling of his cock seemed enthusiastic to say the least. I stayed with him as he worked his hips hard against my hand. I thought of taking it away so he didn't get any further ahead of me but I didn't have the heart to remove the object of his devotion. I enjoyed the hard feel of him as his ass massaged against my cock each time he moved back on me. I was almost breathless myself when I sensed we were getting somewhere, or at least he was.

He used my hand in a big way until several hard thrusts shook the bed and me as he dampened my fingers and my hand. I needed to regain control so I could get back to my own lustful ways, but he had his own ideas and he snatched satisfaction right out of my hands. I was lost and confused as his flaccid cock hung out of his pubes and he once again became lost in a deep sleep that left me high and dry, except for the one wet hand. I listened to his hard breathing as I found the puddle of proof that told of his enjoyment, which left me discouraged.

The realization that we were done swept over me. I pulled his underwear back up over his hips as best I could before retiring my still swollen cock inside my own underwear, slipping out of the room feeling rather exhilarated by the experience but disappointed by George's sudden swoon. I made sure to scoop up as much of his liquid appreciation on my fingers as I could find and I was heading up to Doug's bed to do for my own cock what I had just so unselfishly done for George's, the rat. What he'd given me for this purpose had me excited enough so that I didn't waste any time.

Strike while the irons hot or at least while the cum is warm.

The bedroom was longer than it was wide. It was an attic before it was a bedroom. There was a bed on either side and Doug had told me his would be on the right when I came up the stairs. I kicked off my underwear, pushed my jock aside, and I flung myself onto my back and my hand was vigorously at work on my aching flesh before I had gotten firmly in the bed. George's lubricant was just the trick to ignite me to near orgasm the first touch of it against my pecker. With reckless abandon, I drew myself close to fulfillment at last.

Just as I felt my juices started rising out of my balls, Alfred came tripping up across the top step and slid into the bedroom on his stomach. I snatched the sheet up over my body as my head dropped down in-between Doug's three pillows. I heard Greg's voice in the room and cringed.

"You got to watch that last step, Alfie, it's a lulu."

 

Discovering Gregory

Chapter 9

Alfred's Loll

Luckily, They didn't pay any attention to Doug's bed. Greg's bed was directly across and ten feet down on the far wall. I could hear them giggling as they got closer. If they both weren't drunk, it was a good act.

"Come on. I've waited long enough for you to pay up."

"Take it easy, okay," Alfred said. "What's the hurry. I'll pay."

"You really shouldn't bet on pool. You aren't too good," Greg said, kicking off his shoes.

"Don't worry about me. One time I'm going to be fucking you."

"Not in my lifetime. Strip down."

"I'm still sore from yesterday. You're bigger an me, Greg. You gotta take it easy so's I can use that thing again."

"My dick's bigger than you, Alfie," Greg giggled, and I peaked out to see him gripping his erection down on the base, squeezing to make it swell even thicker. I found it difficult to breath and difficult to believe that Alfred could take it.

"I may be drunk, but I ain't that drunk. Go slow until I tell you or I'll make you quit."

"You lost, asshole. Pay up and quit complaining."

Alfred dropped his underwear and kept on his T-shirt and socks. Greg only had on his socks by this time.

"Let me feel it a minute," Alfred said, reaching up to replace Greg's hand with his own. "Fucker's big. How can a guy stretch that big? I mean a guy my size? Seems impossible, huh?"

"You can blow me. Slobber on it some. Make it easier on you," Greg advised.

"I ain't no fuckin' queer. I don't do that shit."

"Yeah, up and down on it like that," Greg guided. "You need some lotion on your hands, dude."

Greg had moved to within a few inches of Alfred. He stood there watching the smaller boy jack him off. I could see his chest starting to heave. He grabbed Alfred's wrist as he was starting to pump harder.

"No way you're getting off that easy, dude. On your stomach. You got me hard up now."

"Take it easy."

"Yeah, sure, spread your legs. Give me the KY. On the nightstand near your head."

"Let me put it on you, Greg."

Alfred grabbed the tube and squeezed an ample amount into the palm of his hand. He rolled up on one side as Greg kneeled between his legs. Alfred spread the goo down over the swollen gland and down onto the shaft. His hands made a circular motion on the head. I became short of breath as the hand motion seemed about perfect to get a guy off.

"Cool it, dude. You aren't getting off that easy. Lay down."

"Put the pillow up under you and don't cum on it this time. If you start to shoot, pull it out of the way. I got to sleep on that thing."

"I don't always know. It just happens once you get going good."

"Well don't let it happen," Greg said, and I could see his hand spreading Alfred's ass cheeks.

"It burns," Alfred said.

"It's just a finger."

Greg seemed occupied behind him for several minutes before he leaned forward and held his dick between Alfred's cheeks. It didn't seem like anything was happening. Alfred's face turned in my direction and he seemed to be looking at where I was peaking out from under the sheet. His face contorted and he pinched his eyes closed.

"Slow, Greg!" Alfred yelled.

"Okay."

"Slow, I said."

"Okay, I said."

Greg's arms bent as he lowered his body until his chest was covering all of Alfred's back and his arms were surrounding his head. Soon Greg hips were against Alfred and there was no sign of that fat cock of his.

"Hold up a minute," Alfred said in a gasp.

"I'm in now," Greg said. "You'll be okay."

"Let me get used to it. It still hurts from the last time. You got to take it easy on me, okay?"

"Sure, Alfie. That's what I'm doing."

The room went silent for what seemed like forever. Greg lay completely still and seeing his body pressed hard against Alfred turned me on big time. He looked awesome, poised there to give Alfred what for. The light on the table next to the bed furnished just enough light to see the detail of the two boys.

"Okay, go ahead."

Greg backed off below the waist while staying pressed against Alfred above the waist. I watched the slow withdrawal that took almost a minute before he reversed course to bury himself all the way back inside. The next time he pulled out faster before thrusting back inside and the third time was faster yet.

"Hold up," Alfred said.

"I just got going," Greg said.

"Hold up a minute. That fucker's big."

With him on Alfred's back and his cock buried completely in him they lay like they were sleeping. I could hear Greg panting as his skin started to shine from his sweat. I watched his chest filling and discharging air.

"Go ahead," Alfred said.

Greg took his time pulling out and when he slipped back in, he stopped and started wiggling his ass in an effort to make sure he was all the way in. He stayed out of my view while humping harder and harder against his prey.

"Yeah," Alfred said in an expression filled with both pain and pleasure. I didn't understand how he could handle Greg. I felt a tightening in my groin as Greg came almost all the way out. This time he pushed back in without hesitating, and soon he was working like a well oiled piston engine.

"Yeah," Alfred repeated after a few minutes. It was then that he yanked the pillow out from under him.

"You better hold up. I'm not even close yet," Greg said.

"I don't give a fuck. I'm there. Yeah!" There was euphoria in Alfred's voice. It baffled me and only served to drive Greg even harder. His ass was a blur as he propelled it through the sound barrier.

"Hurry up. It's starting to hurt," Alfred said after another few minutes.

"I'm getting there."

Greg held himself up on his elbows as he spoke and there was a slapping sound when their wet skin smacked together faster and faster. I was sure this would yield up what I wanted to see, when Greg started to groan each time he finished a down stroke.

His thrusts became alternately rapid and then slow with three quick thrusts followed by two slower ones, but after a time even the slower ones seemed to be quickening. Alfred lay motionless and silent beneath the fucking machine. A grunt was added to the groan each time Greg got all the way inside Alfred.

It was quite unexpectedly when he rolled up onto his left arm and used his right hand to free himself out of Alfred. His fingers gripped his cock two inches below the head and he was already pounding himself mercilessly, as his face filled with a distraught mixture of pain and relief.

The first shot leaped out of him with a gasp and landed past the middle of the floor. His hand didn't slow at all as another jet shot forth to join the first in the middle of the floor. Two shorter bursts followed as he moaned loudly down in his throat making it sound more like a growl. More cum ran over his fist as it dripped down his hand as he lowered himself on the bed in slow motion. His chest pumped huge amounts of air as his mouth hung open as his eyes weakly closed.

"Fuck!" He said in a gush of air.

I could hear him panting as his fingers kept easing up and down on his half hard cock, until he finally let go of it. He became very quiet except for his ragged breathing, like a marathon man whose race was run.

Alfred's face was turned away from me and I could no longer see Greg's. I planned my exit before something else happened. I eased up the sheet and comforter that hid me and slipped my feet onto the floor. When I caught site of the thick cream he'd left on the floor for me, I used and old idea and collect as much as I could capture for what was going to be a formidable jack off session, the need for which had been building all night.

While I was going down the stairs, I heard someone in the hall. When I peaked through the crack I made with the door, I saw George going into the bathroom. In the confined space and with my hand up and partially open, the smell of Greg filled the small space. It made me even harder up and more in need of relief.

After waiting a few seconds, I slid out and down the hall, moving toward the television room and slipping inside. The room had changed. The couch had been pushed all the way back against the closet door and a bed had sprung forth from it. There were three bodies scattered about. It took a minute for my eyes to adjust to the limited light.

Timmy was on the far side of the bed with his face up near the arm and a pillow was over his head. He still had on his shirt and a sheet was pulled up above his waist. Herbie's big feet and lower legs were visible out from under the bottom of the same sheet, but the rest of him was covered. Doug was lying nearest to me with the side of his face on the bottom corner of the sofa bed. He had a comforter over the lower part of his body but his back and shoulders were naked and visible.

I looked at my hand full of promise as my erection twitched against my filled jockstrap. I sat in the chair unable to wait any longer to touch myself with Greg's generous love offering. I moved the pouch to one side and applied the cream to my throbbing desire with the picture of Greg's gyrating body fresh in my mind.

Closing my eyes for a second to relive the event, I inhaled deeply to enjoy his smell on my dick and hands. As I coated myself with his jelly, I found I was looking straight at Doug's quiet innocent face. It had become framed between my feet as I was leaning all the way back in the easy chair. Should he open his eyes, he'd be staring right up at my hard-on. As I stroked my needy excitement I couldn't rid myself of the idea Doug might see me doing it. The idea he'd think less of me for my self-indulgence reduced the lust I felt for myself.

I decided to use the space beside Doug's legs. It was that was large enough for my body if I hung my legs over the side of the bed. Herbie had left a foot above his head where my head neatly fit after I laid down. I had forgotten my underwear upstairs, so all I had left to wipe my mess up with was my jock, and that left me nothing to wear until I went down to retrieve my pants. I thought about getting up to get some toilet paper from the bathroom, but my hand was well engaged by now and I was not able to forestall the inevitable yet again.

Then the bed creaked as my vigor had my strokes growing more rapid. I waited for a minute after hearing another noise that I hadn't made to see if there was any reaction to my presence. Except for Doug bending his legs in a slow motion sleepy move there was nothing but the extra room he had created for me. I listened to each of them breathing. Ah, wonderful sleep, I thought.

Doug moved again, pulling the comforter up to his shoulders. Herbie lifted up and pulled the comforter toward him as he looked over his shoulder at Doug for about two seconds. He never noticed me before he put his head back down. Doug's skin looked inviting in the light of the never-ending Outer Limits reruns. It was enough light to see his smooth hairless skin.

I couldn't resist stretched my arm up between his legs to feel his skin as I was getting closer to reaching my peak. Since I first saw Doug on the basement stairs, I'd wanted to know him. The fact he was Greg's brother complicated my feelings but it didn't stop the attraction I felt for him. My pace slowed while I took advantage of my positioning to massage his pristine flesh with my palm. He was even smoother than he looked and there was no protest or any indication he was waking from his sleep.

My first surprise came as my hand wandered upward and onto the inside of his naked thigh. I expected to encounter his fresh white briefs, only my hand was on his silken ball sac instead. It was shocking to me that he had shed his only clothing again after putting them on. I knew why he was naked downstairs but I didn't know what had gotten him naked while I was gone. I felt one egg and then the other and enjoyed the tender touch of his most delicate flesh. One finger moved into the space behind the fine sac, finding no flaw in this angel's skin.

As I decide the access was too convenient to ignore, I wanted to feel his magic spot to see how it compared with George's. I felt evil and excited to want this all at once. My hand had all but stopped now that my brain was occupied with lust for Doug. I may as well have kept jerking off the way my heart ran rampant inside my chest. I was breathing hard and feeling hot and faint. I felt compelled to go on with my most exciting contact with another human being. I contemplated what I might do if there was no protest when my finger got to where it was going.

At first I hadn't planned to go further than touching him. It had been the same with George. If there was no protest I took another step, and another, and didn't stop until one of us was taken beyond ecstasy. George hadn't mattered to me. He was all right but offered no risk. If he never spoke to me again because of it, I didn't care, but Doug was different. I'd die if he hated me for wanting him the way I wanted him.

How had I gotten myself so far into this when I'd never managed to get myself into anything for my entire life? Where had these people come from? Why didn't I know anything about anything while they seemed to know everything about sex?

Imagine my surprise when I found another hand curled into the crack of Doug's ass as my hand slid up to touch his hole. I wasn't sure what it was at first, but after I jerked my hand out of danger, I lifted the covering and traced Herbie's hand to its origin. Doug had been scooting in Herbie's direction when Herbie had lifted up. Was this what precipitated Herbie's hold on him? I thought Doug once went with the older boys but he had stopped because it wasn't what he wanted. Herbie didn't seem to have any reluctance in feeling Doug's delights.

Doug was naked and Herbie's legs were naked and extended out beyond the bottom of the bed. His shoulders and back were naked when he lifted up from his repose. I slid my hand under the comforter and then the sheet, and with careful calculation I straightened my arm until it found the naked cheeks of Herbie's slender ass. Without intending it, my fingers went straight between them. His skin was somewhat coarser, lacking the exciting qualities I had found in others. With Doug there Herbie could hold no interest for me.

Just as I yanked my hand back to safety, Herbie started to stir from the breach of his sleep. He looked around still failing to notice the fourth body in the bed. I could see the comforter moving as Herbie's hand explored Doug's bottom. There I was, my erect penis in my fist and my hand close to the center of Herbie's bottom, but I retrieved it carefully without Herbie ever seeing me.

Herbie rolled up on his side toward Doug, turning in the bed so his feet were near my head, just barely passing by me without making contact. He had slid up close to Doug in a calculating move that placed his head above Doug's head and his feet went well beyond Doug's feet, but his center of gravity matched up perfectly with Doug's. Herbie slid his chest up onto Doug's back.

"Arrrg!" Doug said, turning his head toward the door as Herbie's ass forced the quilt up in the air before he lie down flat on Doug's back. He planted his elbows on either side of Doug as Greg had done with Alfred. His ass raised the comforter again.

"Arg!" Doug said.

"Shh! Shh!" Herbie spat.

The movement in the bed was persistent for a time. I scooted my back onto the back of the couch and once again became lost in the pillows and unused bedding as my eyes stayed on the activity a couple of feet from where I lie.

"Herbie!" Doug complained.

"You started it," Herbie said, holding himself up on his hands.

"I'm trying to sleep," Doug said.

"Yeah, okay. Just another minute or two."

Nothing was said and Herbie went back to it for awhile.

"Herbie!"

"What?"

"No!" Doug's protest was loud but came through his sleepy brain. Doug rolled onto his back, forcing Herbie off him.

"Yeah, okay," Herbie said. "Fuck."

Herbie twisted in the bed once again. This time he ended up facing away from me, and he still hadn't found me at the foot of the bed. I tried to get a look at his erection but he was too fast for me to get a look. Without missing much more than a stroke or two, he calculated a similar position on Timmy's back. As he lifted he arranged himself he lifted the sheet that covered the boy and I could see Timmy was naked below the waist. Herbie's ass raised the sheet and then rested flat on top of the boy under him. He lay still for a time.

There was no such protest from Timmy with Herbie's considerable presence inside of him. He lay silent as Herbie positioned himself again on the boys round ass. His hips came up slow and well above his receptive friend. He pushed forward until he was flat on Timmy's back. This kept up for several minutes with a hesitation on each end of the process.

"Don't you ever get enough?" Timmy said in a clear and distinct voice.

"You're so tight. I'll never get enough of your ass. You okay?"

"I'm sleeping," Timmy said, sounding awake.

"Just go back to sleep. I'll be done in a little while."

The way Herbie held him wasn't devoid of affection. One of his long arms reached under his young companion as his lips nibbled at his neck and his ass rose and fell at an easy pace. After awhile Timmy came up a little on one side and it was obvious Herbie was jacking him off as he fucked him. His hips started to stab in short quick motions after a time. I could hear them both breathing hard and the smell of sex as everywhere in the room.

My hand was back up between Doug's legs so I could caress his balls as I brought myself to a welcome conclusion. Herbie and Timmy were still going at it when the slow rocking of the bed put me to sleep.

 

Discovering Gregory

Chapter 10

The Doug Affect

Several thin rays of sunlight came through the two partially raised slats in the window blinds, left out of place by someone looking out, as the morning sunshine broke through the row of poplar trees that stood in a row on this side of the house. My eyes burned wearily from too little sleep as the events of the evening before came back to me in waves the rose and fell.

The jockstrap I'd used for mop up and then placed on my lap when I sat back in the chair had disappeared. My hand was all that I had left to check the still raised enthusiasm that seemed to have taken on a life of its own now that it had been exposed to the possibilities I had found in boys. I'd carefully guarded enough clothing to hide my anxious lust but now I they were scattered all over a strangers house. The light didn't shine on me and so the early morning shadows were still enough to mask my urges from the prying eyes of others. I'd get up and find my pants as soon as everyone was asleep.

"What's your brother up to today, Boo Boo?"

"Herbie, he's twelve. My old man gets wind of this shit, your ass is grass," Timmy said as my eyes adjusted to the slim light in the room. Someone had cut off the television and any easy viewing of what they were doing was dimly lit.

"I just asked," Herbie complained. "What about his friend, Todd."

"Herbie! You're going to get my ass in trouble. They're too young for you."

"Maybe you're too young for me, Boo Boo," Herbie said with an evil twist in his words.

"Don't say that. You know how I feel about you."

"I forgot. Why don't you prove it to me."

"Don't you ever sleep."

"Not with you around, Boo Boo. I can sleep in school all week long."

As my eyes were adjusting, I could see that Timmy and Herbie were lying up against each other. Doug's head was down by my feet at the opposite corner from the other two. He'd curled up into a tight ball under the sheet.

Timmy was still wearing his shirt but he was naked below his waist. I could see the smooth crack of his ass with one of his legs bent up over Herbie's thighs. I thought I could almost see his hole. His hand was on Herbie's stomach as there was the impression he was somehow subservient to the bigger and older boy.

Herbie lay melancholy on his back with his hands behind his head as his long hot prick stand straight up from his small grouping of dark black pubes. His head was turned and his eyes were obviously on the young man. "Feel me," he ordered with a deep unfamiliar voice.

The stomach hand slid down until it was massaging the solid pole. The fingers looked inadequate as they slid up from the bottom to the top and then back to the bottom in easy motions. Timmy's face turned downward as he watched his handwork.

"Damn it's so big," he admired. "It's got to be the longest one ever."

"You like it."

"Yeah."

"You can kiss it if you really like it."

"Yeah," Timmy said moving his face to the stiff cock. I could hear his lips lavishing love on the joystick he was maneuvering in his fist.

"George is across the hall," Herbie said. "I know how you feel about George. He's got a fat one."

"Is he? His isn't as fat as Greg's," Timmy said seeming intrigued.

"Drunk as a skunk and wearing only his underpants, but we can remedy that quick enough."

"You want to?" Timmy said, sounding evil in his own right.

"He's all alone, Boo Boo."

"How do you know all that shit?"

"I keep track of my boys. You can chow down on that fat prick of his if you like. While I... like last time."

"You're making it up, right? I thought he left."

"He's the only one that will sleep in mommy and daddies bed. We could go keep him company, Boo Boo. He never wakes up."

"What if he does?"

"He won't. We might stop if he woke up. Georgie doesn't want it to stop."

"Okay!" Timmy said and in a flurry of activity they both passed my chair.

The room went silent. I couldn't see any of Doug, except the top of his blond head. His hair was nondescript in the near dark of the new day. I drifted back to sleep on thoughts of how free I had become at fifteen. The last night was the most freedom I'd ever known.

When I woke up the second time, the angle of the sun's rays caused them to be filtered by the sheer white drapes that covered most of the window. One streak of yellow light shined across my stomach, down across my rich brown cock hair, connecting me to Doug's upturned face as it ran across his cheek before disappearing on the bed. The golden tone of his skin was magnificent in the growing early light.

The sheet now only covered him from the waist down to the upper portion of his thighs. His chest was light tan and his nipples were light with a touch of pink that kept them from being brown. His stomach was flat and smooth and a shade or two lighter than his shoulders and more brown arms. The sheet stood up with very little angle as I noticed the delicate skin between his thighs, almost pink on white with just a hint of tan coloring.

I wasn't much aware of myself at that moment, but it was difficult to pretend I wasn't there when I found Doug's warm blue eyes trained on mine.

"You can lay down if you want. They won't be back."

"Oh!" I said, wondering if he'd caught my probing eyes.

"Nah, Herbie will go upstairs to torment my brother. He has a thing for Greg. Don't say I said so. Timmy's probably gone already. He likes leaving before anyone gets up. He never likes the morning after, facing the guys."

"I like him," I said.

"Yeah, so does Herbie, and Greg, and even his friend Tommy likes him when he's letting him fuck his ass. Mostly they treat him like shit after he's gotten them off a couple of times."

"You don't like him?"

"Timmy, yeah, he's my best friend besides Kent."

"Kent who? Kent Herbie."

"What's that?"

"Kent is to Herbert what Gregory is to moi. His brother."

"Where's he?"

"Avoiding Greg. They hate each other."

"Why?"

"I'm not sure. Something happened when I wasn't around. Greg doesn't mention it and I can't get Kent to talk about it. We were all thick as thieves until Greg said not to ask him over any more."

"Oh! Is Kent like Herbie?" I inquired.

"Worse than Herbie. He's handsome. Mostly does girls nowadays."

"Mostly but not always?"

"Don't get any ideas. He hardly ever comes around for that any more."

"But he did come around for that?"

"I fall asleep in that chair watching television. After a few hours it's like the rack, you know. You may as well lie down while you can. There'll be people coming and going all day long. Party City, you know."

I stood up before I realized my protrusion was protruding only a few inches from his face. I could lose myself in Doug that easy. I was naked as a Jaybird and I'd forgotten all about it until my dick was swinging in the breeze. In a flourish of motion I hid myself with a corner of the sheet he wasn't using right then, as he carefully studied each of my moves with amazement. I felt like such a dufus sometimes.

"What happen to all that gear?" Doug asked casually.

"Ah, maybe that got uncomfortable?"

"Me too," he said, lifting the sheet to reveal to me his erection in the small patch of golden pubic hair and above his low hanging balls. "I put my underwear on once but that never lasts long around here if you go to sleep."

"Yeah," I said, yawning and feeling faint from being so close to him.

"You can have some of the sheet. I mean more than just to cover it up."

Doug rolled over and placed his back to me after handing me half of the sheet. I couldn't resist holding it up long enough for me to view his round bottom and well-chiseled crack. If Doug weren't a real boy, he would have been a Greek Statue. I nervously lay on my back and left a foot between us. My part of the sheet poked straight into the air. I wondered if his was poking anything.

The room was fully lit by daylight when my eyes opened again. There was the warm and pleasant feeling that came on me. Doug's body was up close to mine. The heat from him was incredibly intense. I could feel my heart doing a tap dance in my chest as I tried to immediately survey all the places where he touched me, and who was on whose side of the bed was all that I worried about.

We were both on our sides and his face was up against my chest. His hands were crossed and folded on his chest which meat they were folded on my stomach. My still raging erection was poked into his stomach and his erection was pressed into my thigh. I had to catch my breath as I tried to calculate how not to disturb this intimacy. I just lay there panting like a fool.

Finally I let my left arm move down across his shoulder and onto his back. I used my right arm to complain the embrace and squeezed him closely to my body. It was heaven. Suddenly, my cock burst forth with its surprise symphony and my body heaved without control as I tried to stop my orgasm. As I held him in my arms his eyes opened sleepily and melted into mine.

Shit!

"Oh fuck," he said, as surprise took hold of him. "You want to get a towel? That is yours, please tell me that."

"What?" I said in my best stupid reply of the year. "Yeah, I'm afraid so. Sorry! I don't know what happened. It just went off."

"Next to the bathroom. Closet. Towel!" Doug's face was still on my chest and leaving him wasn't what I wanted to do.

I was forced to let him go as I panted from the experience of loving him.

What must he think? Why was I such an idiot? Fuck!

I had no trouble finding the linen closet and I raced back to clean my cum up off his stomach and lower parts. When I got to his dick I hesitantly wiped around it and watched as he kept his eyes closed. Shit, I'd already shot a load all over him, I thought. What the hell, I seized his cock in my hand and wiped vigorously as I took in each detail I could observe.

"You better quit if you don't want another mess. That's hot. You got good hands."

"Sorry," I said. "I mean, I didn't intend to. Fuck!"

"Shut up, Martin. I never said I didn't like it. Quit saying 'I'm sorry', Jesus!"

"Yeah!"

"Lay back down. Put the towel on the floor," he instructed.

Doug hadn't so much as moved an inch from when I first woke up. I put the towel on the floor and found my jock by the arm of the sofa when I did.

"How'd my jock get all the way over here. I had it on my lap," I said.

"Herbie," Doug said.

"Herbie?"

"He has a thing for underwear. He can't resist other guys stuff. He's harmless, but he's plenty weird. You'll have to get used to it if you are going to hang around me."

"Why do you let him do that to you?" I asked, unable to stop the words once they got going.

"What?" Doug said with alarm as his eyes blinked wide open and pierced into mine.

"I saw him. He like climbed on your ass. Doesn't it hurt," I said. "God he's so big."

"Look, I told him stop. He stopped. Nothing hurt. Nothing happened, okay."

"Yeah, but his dick's like a foot long," I said. "It's got to hurt, Doug."

"Martin, nothing happened."

"But I saw...."

"Nothing, okay. Shut up. You talk too much."

Doug rolled over and turned his back on me, wrapping up in the sheet. I wasn't sure what to do. I lay there on my back and remembered what I'd seen Herbie doing to Doug and then Timmy. I remembered what I had done to George and then to Doug, and I cringed. I was so sick. What was wrong with me? I watched him sleep wondering how I could be hard again, or was it still. God I hated wanting sex.

*****

I woke up later in the day. I was in the television room by myself. I stayed where I was for awhile, listening to the house. There were voices in the front of the house and a door opened and closed. It sounded like the fridge. Someone laughed and then it was quiet again. I waited to see if anyone came into the hallway. After figuring it was safe, I jumped up and figured I'd make my way to the basement so I could get my clothes.

It was dark in the basement and I didn't turn on the light at the top of the stairs because I'd closed the door and couldn't find the switch. I remembered Greg using a string above the pool table and guided by the one window, I proceeded down the stairs. When I clicked it on and looked where I'd put my clothes, they were gone. All the clothes were gone. Did Greg think they were his now? I looked for a towel or something to cover my nudity. The best I could come up with were old newspapers and I wasn't going to go that route.

I turned off the light and started back up the steps, stopping to listen before going back into the hall to go get my soiled jockstrap. It was better than nothing, and that's all I had just then. When I was sure no one was there, I opened the door, closing it softly as I stepped into the hall, and I came face to face with Herbie, who was coming out of the bathroom at exactly the instant.

"Gee, Boo Boo, seeing a lot more of you these days. I knew something had to be in that underwear besides that flimsy little jockstrap you were holding."

"Ah, I was looking for my clothes," I said, trying to use my hands as fig leaves.

"Where'd you leave them, Boo Boo? That's where I'd look."

"Downstairs. They aren't there!"

"A man should always keep track of his britches when he's visiting someone's house. Me thinks this is a breach of proper etiquette, Boo Boo. Come on. We'll track 'em down for you."

"Thanks," I said, wishing he wasn't helping me.

"Not a problem. I was hoping to help you out this weekend."

"That's nice," I said, feeling a little like the fly who had just stumbled onto this really neat looking web.

I followed Herbie toward the front of the house. It was then that I noticed the red, green, and blue plaid boxer shorts that adorned his skinny ass. He walked oddly, something like a cartoon character might walk with his legs and arms going in all direction with no noticeable design to the motions, and I feared he might collide with one or both of the walls, but I couldn't be sure which one.

There was something else about Herbie, and it was the most disturbing thing I had noticed. The papers under the stairs where Greg and lord knows who else left their cum, Herbie smelled just like it did when I stood up under the stairs and breathed deep. He smelled like dried cum. My dick twitched and I cringed.

Don't! Please!

"Hey, who stole juniors clothes? He's just kinda... hangin out, until he can find them."

"Did he come with any," Greg said, eyeballing me around Herbie's arm. "Get your beauty sleep, Marty? I worked all night and I was up with the roosters."

I cringe hoping it was a mere oversight he'd called me that name. I took the high road. I gritting my teeth and smiled, trying not to let him know how much I hated the name Marty.

"Yeah, I guess," I said, smiling some more.

Greg sat at the table in his white briefs. In the middle of the table was a huge jar of mayonnaise with a knife stuck down in the middle of it. There was a loaf of bread, lunchmeat, cheese, pickles, olives, and half an onion lying around the mayonnaise jar. A huge bag of potato chips sat gapping near my host.

"Want a sandwich, Martin," Greg said. "You look hungry."

"Yeah," I said, realizing I hadn't eaten since the day before. The clock on the wall said it was eleven thirty. "My clothes?"

"First things first. You've got to keep your strength up if you want to hang with the big boys, Marty."

Once again I had the wild urge to scream for him never to call me by that name, but that would only assure he'd never call me by any other. A guy like Greg used any advantage against those he wished to torment. I wasn't going to give him any ammunition to use against me. No more than he already had anyway.

Greg stood and grabbed a little of this and a little of that and slapped it together until it resembled a sandwich. Just before he slapped the last slice of break on to top it all off, he grabbed a handful of potato chips and slapped them down on top, smashing them carefully and trapping them with the bread he placed on the top.

"Here go, squirt, a Gregor especial," he walked to where I stood and handed me the sandwich around Herbie's elbow.

"Thanks," I said, hearing the crunch as I bit through the layers. It was great and it occupied both of my hands, and the chips right on the sandwich was an idea I would use for the rest of my life.

"Want one, Herbie, while I'm making them?"

"Sure, Boo Boo," Herbie said, charging at the table.

My protection gone, Greg surveyed everything on me below his sandwich. I was hungry enough that I just accepted the inevitable scrutiny. I read nothing in his gaze and we stood there for a minute before he turned away from the naked boy standing in his hall gobbling his food.

"Boy's got bigger balls than I thought," Greg said, turning back to the table.

"Yeah, got a dick on him, too," Herbie said.

"I meant balls enough to be bareass when we aren't. I thought he was a tuti-fruity there for awhile. You're all right, Martin."

Greg sat back down and he glanced at me twice as I ate.

"Thanks. Can I have another," I said, whipping my face on my arm. I'd have used the tail of my shirt, but I was a bit short of shirttails right then.

"You get the first one made for you on account of because you're my guest. Now you're just one of the guys. Make your own fucking sandwich," Greg growled but then he smiled and there was that twinkle in his eye I hadn't seen since the first day I met him. When he smiled it made me feel like a million bucks and his eyes ate me while Herbie noticed whose eyes were where on whom.

"Hey, squirt," Greg screamed. "What'd you do with Marty's panties."

I cringed again but kept making my sandwich, grabbing a handful of potato chips and smashing them under the second slice of bread, glancing at him to see if he noticed me doing it his way. He smiled and shook his head and slapped me on my bare ass.

"In the TV room by where he was sleeping."

The voice came from just above our heads.

"Don't get no cock hair in the pickle juice, squirt," Greg said, looking at the way my cock just cleared the top of the table.

Herbie had a mouthful of sandwich, and believe me, Herbie could pack his mouth full, and suddenly it went out all over the table as he went into hysterics over Greg's comment.

"You asshole. Clean that fucking mess up," Greg growled without the smile.

I was half way through the sandwich when Doug came charging down the steep stairs, sounding like there was no possible way he could stop before colliding with the wall across from the door, but he did. He did a double take when he saw me standing at the table.

He turned toward the television room. "Come on, I ain't ah-dressin' ya," Doug said. "I put them right beside you so you wouldn't have to walk around like that. You can't encourage those two, Marty. You'll live to regret it you do."

My smile was filled with pain as I turned away from the table.

"I'll be right back," I said politely.

"Don't let your meat loaf, kid," Herbie said as he wiped up the mess he'd left in front of Greg. He pressed the front of his boxers hard against Greg's naked shoulder. Greg looked at the front of the boxers but made no effort to avoid the physical contact.

Doug looked back over his shoulder, letting his eyes watch me swinging in the breeze. When I remembered the feel of him against me, my resolve weakened as my pride and joy insisted on doing a slow rise.

Shit! When's it going to take a break, I wondered?

*******

"You're getting bold," Doug said. "You're too nice to get with them."

"Not much choice. I didn't want you to find me in here starved to death."

"I found these upstairs just now -- by my bed. They look like the ones you had on. They're damp. You'd better rinse them out and just put on your jeans for now. You've been busy, huh."

"Yeah," I said, putting the sandwich on the arm of the chair while I was pulling on my jeans.

"You aren't going to say anything about what you saw last night. I mean that's between Herbie and me. That can't get out."

"What?" I said, acting as dumb as I could.

"You know, last night. What you said you saw him doing."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I didn't see anything last night. I was so drunk I don't remember anything from last night. Must have been someone else said they seen something."

"Kewl, dude," Doug said, looking at me a second time and giving me a small warm smile that had me giving off a little shiver.

"What happens today?"

"Can't ever tell. They'll start drinkin' before long. I'd keep my clothes on if I were you. Guys will come and go. Greg's got some girl coming and Herbie says his "girlfriend" said she might drop over."

"Right."

"Hey, we're going up to the mountains next weekend. You want to go along? We always get to take someone," Doug said, looking me in the eye.

"Sure. I'd love to go with you."

"You'll love it. We can fish, swim, hike, anything you want. We'll leave right after school on Friday. The old man'll pick us up and all. We come back late Sunday night. You should ask your folks so they can call mine."

"They'll be okay with it, your mom and dad?"

"Sure. They'll like you."

"I'd like to go."

"I was going to say we should go up to the El Rancho for some burgers and fries, but I see you've already eaten."

"Just a couple of jumbo sandwiches. That's my warm up. Let's go."

"Kewl."

I felt funny without my underwear on. I was afraid I'd rub a hole in my dick but after a few minutes it felt right good. We walked along the old highway for the mile it took to get to the local burger hangout. We sipped cokes and ate a double order of fries with cheese and chili thrown on top for good measure. We got two forks for the fries but we each had our own straw and own drink. Doug was incredibly happy to be with me and I couldn't hide my feelings for him.

When we walked up toward the bowling alley, Timmy was walking toward El Rancho. He stopped and watched as we came toward him. He suddenly seemed shy when he saw me.

"Hey, bud, what's up?" Doug asked.

"Hi Timmy," I said, remembering the way Herbie had been on top of him a few hours before and wanting to do the same thing for him the first chance I got.

"I was just going to get a burger. I can eat at the bowling alley if you don't mind me tagging along."

"Kewl," Doug said, "You mind if he comes along?"

"No," I said. "I was hoping he would. We really didn't get much of a chance to talk."

Timmy gave me a huge smile.

"Thanks," he said, looking right at me for longer than it took to see someone.

"Thanks for what?" I asked.

"For being cool. Some guys aren't, you know. I mean they find something out about a guy and they use it on 'em."

"Use what? You're a nice guy, and there aren't many," I said, wanting not to talk about it.

Timmy walked ahead of us kicking rocks and I immediately replaced Herbie with myself as I watched his jeans wiggling from the way his round ass filled them up. It felt funny with my wiener wagging around in my pants as it grew up against the rough material. I wondered what Timmy might say if I suggested we get our mutual interest together for a meeting of the minds,... or something. How do you make an appointment with a guy to screw him when you don't know him?

My mind wouldn't get off the idea of going all the way with someone that had more than five fingers to offer me.

"Hey, Timmy, you want to go to the mountains with us next weekend?"

"Sure, if my old man will buy it. Could you have your Pop to call him? He don't dare say no to a Colonel."

"Good as done. Martin's going. You mind if he goes too?"

"I was trying to figure a way to ask you if he could come," I said, catching Timmy's eyes back on me again. We smiled at each other like a couple of schoolgirls, while Doug shook his head like he couldn't believe us making eyes at each other right there on the highway.

"You two just remember my parents are going to be around. You've got to cool it round them, okay?"

Timmy turned around and walked backwards while looking at me. He didn't miss my little bulging problem that was eagerly wiggling around in my pants. He smiled like the early bird that just got himself a worm. He turned back around again and kicked some more rocks.

I felt like a billion bucks. I could see Doug, Timmy, and I snuggled up in our sleeping bags. It wasn't at all like thinking about Greg and what I might be able to get from him. This was more liking feeling we could do something together without the power trip.

I'd never felt that good about life before.