Friday, July 13, 2007

the boy

He’s a year younger than you and he’s your
brother’s best friend, I admonished myself. But I couldn’t seem to help where my thoughts were going. Robbie, my younger brother’s best friend, had caught my eye, and I couldn’t get him out of my head. He was shorter than me by about six inches. He had thick, unruly black hair and crooked teeth. But his eyes, well, they were the deepest brown I have ever seen, almost black and he had inherited her wonderful morena skin of her mother. And he wore that skin beautifully!

He had the most amazing muscle tone for a sixteen-year-old I had ever seen. His muscles weren’t huge, or even large, but each one was perfectly shaped and moved beneath his skin in a way that tantalized me. And lately, I was seeing a lot of him. He had joined my family on our annual summer camping trip. He typically wore nothing but swimming trunks or cut-off jeans. And, of course, everywhere I went during that summer trip, there he was, smiling at me. Robbie, three of my four brothers and I were all sleeping in the same tent. Somehow, Robbie had managed to stake out space in the tent right next to my own space. So, even though I was trying very hard not to think about him, not to think about what I wanted to be doing with him, it was really a lost cause from the start.

On the fourth night of our camping trip, I was so full of heat and yearning for Robbie I couldn’t stand it. I had been grouchy all day, with everyone, even my parents. I wasn’t enjoying the trip any more. I didn’t even bother to go swimming in the beach with everyone else earlier that afternoon. Finally, during dinner, as the family sat around the picnic table eating grilled bangus (milkfish) and laughing about the day’s antics, my parents had had enough of my surly mood and ordered me to bed.

I headed for the tent, angering my parents even more by muttering under my breath as I went. I threw myself down on my sleeping bag and glared at the tent’s ceiling, daring it so much as to move in the breeze. To my surprise, I fell asleep rather quickly. I suppose I hadn’t been sleeping much, really, with Robbie lying next to me in nothing but shorts every night.

Some time later, I woke up when I heard an odd sound from next to me. Everyone else had apparently managed to get into the tent and get settled without waking me, because I could see the dark shapes that would be my brothers on one side of the tent. Next to me, close enough to reach out and touch, Robbie lay on his back, softly snoring. At that moment, the moon began to shine through the mosquito net window on our side of the tent. It was by that moon’s gentle glow that I realized what the sound I had heard was.

Robbie had worn a very short, very tight pair of cut-off jeans that day. As he lay there, now, on his back, I could see that he had unbuttoned and unzipped his shorts. And I could see, quite clearly, what those shorts of his had been hinting at and teasing me with all day. My heart started racing, my breathing so fast and shallow I thought I might pass out. What was I supposed to do? How I was supposed to behave myself, with Robbie lying there, sleeping, next to me, fully exposed?

Those are, perhaps, the thoughts I should have been having. Instead, I reached over and placed my hand on Robbie’s taut, lean tummy. He made a quick gasp, and his own breathing seemed to speed up, as well. Still, he continued to appear to be sleeping. Slowly, I let my hand drift downward along his tummy. After what seemed like hours, but was surely barely minutes, my hand was below the open waistband of his shorts, resting in the soft black nest below his navel. Again, he gasped. And still his soft snore continued.

However, his manhood, which had been resting limply just under the open zipper of his shorts, suddenly jerked and sprang out of the opening, fully erect. I panicked and pulled my hand away. By this point, I was so wired, I could feel my stomach cramping and my nuts had begun to hurt, as if someone had kicked me. I lay there on my back, trying to slow my breathing, but my eyes kept drifting to Robbie. I had a moment of sickening dizziness, and then the next thing I knew, I was taking Robbie’s manhood into my mouth.

I don’t even remember, now, the way that felt. I don’t recall what he tasted like, or how long it took him to fill my mouth with the proof of his orgasm. I only remembering realizing that it was over and then running off into the trees near our campsite to throw up. I also remember that Robbie never seemed to wake up through it all. However, when I came back into the tent a short while later, I noticed that he had rolled onto his side, facing me, and that his shorts had been zipped back up and fastened again.

I lay there, feeling sick and scared, afraid I had done something nasty and wrong. It wasn’t just that I felt wrong for taking another guy into my mouth like that. I already knew what a fag was and how people felt about that sort of thing. I felt nasty and dirty for doing it to a guy who, as far as I knew, was sound asleep. In fact, I was utterly terrified. I was afraid that one of my brothers might have seen and would tell on me. I was afraid Robbie would tell on me the next morning. How could he not have noticed I was sucking on him like that?

I threw up twice more that night. I never slept. I just lay there, the cold weight of my terror crushing down on me, trying to squeeze the breath right out of me. And then the sunlight replaced the moonlight, and my father was outside the tent ordering everyone to breakfast. Since I was already awake, I was first out of the tent, even though the last thing in the world I wanted at that moment, was to be near my parents, or near anyone else for that matter.

I took my place at the table just the same, though. I ignored my mother when she commented that a night’s sleep hadn’t seemed to improve my mood any. A few minutes later, my brothers and Robbie ambled sleepily out of the tent. Although he normally sat next to my brother, that morning, Robbie slipped onto the bench of the picnic table next to me. Without ever looking at me, he slid toward me until our bottoms were touching. Then he threw his naked leg over mine, and leaned toward me. He whispered into my ear, “Tonight, it’s my turn.”



Clark Can't said...

What a scorcher!
IS there a part 2?

Thirty3 Næked Laydies said...


You covered every emotion known to a young boy (be he str8, bi, curious or whatever). The emotions ‘the boy’ expressed are universal. I read... captivated and taken by your story. I was taken to a place and a time when I was younger… & still a teen… full of hormones and excitement and questions and fear and trepidation… and the rush of being gay (and closeted). I smile, I hush, I listen.

chase said...

that was freaking hot!

nice writing..
very good!

HSOJ said...

hhmmnn... when will it be my turn (lol!) hehehee

khalel said...

clark, i think there will be. [wink]

khalel said...

@Chase and 33 naked ladies, thanks!

Anonymous said...

my head is going insane just by reading :) -dave

Troyboy888 said...

beautiful story. You write really well.