Copyright © 2015-2016 Douglas DD. All Rights Reserved.
Welcome back to “Rough Edges”. For those of you who have read the Mayfield Trilogy and are waiting for cameos from your favorite characters, they will start appearing soon.
In this chapter, Phil learns that love and friendship can be wonderful beyond his wildest dreams. He also learns that it can be excruciatingly painful. Phil learns lessons in life both from his friendship and from his deteriorating family situation.
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I had to smile when I read my latest incoming text. This one was from Marty. “Rich and I play Sat. U better fucking win so we can watch u take State Sun.” Marty was a daily success story. I say daily because he is a recovering alcoholic, and alcoholics look at their sobriety as something achieved on a daily basis. Marty says that even someone as dense and stubborn as he is can succeed in small increments.
“I got a text from your favorite ex-player,” I told Phil, who had switched seats with Coach Hart.
“And that would be Marty or Conner?” he asked.
“I forgot that you have two favorites.”
“I do, and I have them for two different reasons.”
Phil liked the bad boys, like Marty and Connor, best, while I was more partial to the overachievers like Eric and Noah. Not that our likes and respect didn’t cross over, it was just that different personalities appealed to each of us.
“It is Marty. I think I’m going to get up and stretch,” I said.
“Why, so you can see who has his cock hanging out?” Phil whispered.
“You have such a dirty mind. What it is I ever saw in you is beyond me.”
“You know you love that dirty mind of mine.” He was right; I did love that dirty mind of his, not to mention all the rest of him.
“For your information, I’m officially going to take a pee.”
“I rest my case,” he said.
“And I rest mine.”
Phil let me out of my window seat and I headed to the back of the bus and the bathroom. Everybody had their privates safely tucked away, which I knew hasn’t always been the case on the team’s bus trips. We were using a private charter, thanks to the high school’s booster club. It had plusher seats than a school bus and the seats had higher backs, which gave the players the illusion of privacy. Most importantly, it had a bathroom.
Although everybody was decent, I noticed that some of the boys, like Nicky and Jeffery or Korey and Chandler, were cuddled up somewhat intimately. Korey and Chandler were sound asleep. I nodded to the boys who were awake as I made my way back; some of them stopping me to make a comment or ask a question. We weren’t playing until tomorrow, but I could sense an increased tension and nervousness permeating the bus. As I entered the little restroom, I wondered if what I was sensing was good or bad.
After Larry left his seat, my thoughts went back to Andy and me. After school started up, dad chilled out some about me seeing Andy. Well, saying he chilled out over our visits might not be accurate. What he did was essentially pretend that Troy and I no longer existed. Keegan was now his drinking buddy and their relationship was not healthy in so many ways. My dad was a sick man and his sickness was seeping into his middle son. The family was a mess, and while mom did the best she could at the time to hold things together, she was a prescription drug addict and wasn’t always capable of doing what needed to be done.
I spent as much time at Andy’s as I could get away with. I was happy when I was with my friend and with his mom, although I didn’t care much for his mom’s boyfriend. I think I sensed that he was the storm cloud on the horizon.
Andy and I loved sex together. We were only ten and learning about our bodies, but it didn’t matter. Jerking off together, jerking each other off, trading blow jobs, sixty-nining, madly dry humping each other, we did it all. Troy showed me that my ass was an erogenous zone. As a result, Andy and I learned to love placing one or two fingers up each other’s butts. We weren’t ready to think about fucking yet, let alone do it, but I’m sure that under different circumstances we would have done the deed together as we got older and more experienced.
We showered and bathed together whenever we could, and even on school mornings our showers were sexual, even if we didn’t always have an orgasm. We loved to kiss, and did so wherever and whenever we could. We kissed in the living room, in the shower, in his bedroom, out in his backyard, and even in school—sneaking in kisses and gropes whenever we could. We even peed together, standing side-by-side.
We both looked forward to erotic contact in school, our lips meeting, our hands rubbing our butts, or rubbing the fronts of our jeans, or best of all, our hands sneaking inside of those jeans and rubbing our hard little cocks. We rarely came to orgasm when we had these little trysts, but we loved the danger and the naughtiness of it. I wasn’t worried about me being caught with my hands in another boy’s pants—I could kick the shit out of anybody who said anything—but I worried about Andy, my dear sweet friend whose life could quickly become hell if he were caught. Andy wanted to take the risk, however, and we finally decided that if we were caught we would say I made Andy do whatever it was he was doing. We knew that Carlos and his buddies could identify with that.
Other things became part of our lives, too. One was plain and simple friendship. Even though I didn’t realize it at the time, I was in love with Andy, and I’m sure he was in love with me. But there was much more to our relationship than sex. We genuinely liked each other. We loved each other’s company and we rarely had any disagreements. Those unusual times that we did disagree were quickly taken care of by apologies and sex, usually dry humping with lots of kissing and groping.
There were nights I stayed over and we simply did our homework, or played games, or both, and then fell right to sleep when we went to bed. We weren’t sure if Andy’s mother knew we slept naked together, but since she never said anything on the subject, we never worried about it.
Baseball became part of our lives, especially after Andy gave me his old mitt. Whenever it wasn’t raining, we were outside playing catch. Andy had a good arm, and it turned out I did, too. It was during one of these sessions on a cold afternoon in early February that Andy convinced me to do something that changed my life.
“You should turn out for my baseball team,” Andy said as we tossed the ball back and forth in the scraggly grass of his backyard. I pretended he didn’t say anything. There was no way I was going to turn out for a team and embarrass myself. Andy knew that my silences meant I didn’t want to talk about the subject he brought up.
No matter what we did in the back yard, we couldn’t make the yard look worse than it already did. Sometimes after it rained the yard was muddy, but we didn’t care. We played catch in the mud and when we were done, Andy’s mom washed our shoes and pants and we ran around the house in our underwear. She finally bought us some old shoes at the Goodwill to be our mud shoes. I had extra pants at Andy’s house, but rarely wore them. We had more fun running around in our underpants.
It had rained the previous two days, and even though the sun was out, it wasn’t strong enough to dry out the yard. We were wearing our new, yet old, mud shoes, and played catch. Our feet were wet and the lower part of our pants was wet and muddy. I found I loved throwing a baseball around as much as Andy did.
When we got tired of playing catch, we decided to have a wrestling match in the wet, muddy yard. We ended up wet from head to toe, our clothes, faces, and hair covered with mud. Andy’s mom stopped us from walking into the house, making us strip on the back stoop. I got down to my wet briefs and stopped.
“Everything,” Andrew’s mother said in a voice that told me that she expected to be obeyed. I did not want to be naked in front of my friend’s mother, even though she’d seen me down to my underpants many times. I noticed that Andy was nude, but I still hesitated. “I’ve seen naked boys before.” She pointed at Andy to prove her point. “But I’ll go into the house if it embarrasses you. You boys leave your clothes on the porch.”
She turned and walked into the house. I pulled off my briefs and tossed them onto the pile of clothes, hoping that none of the neighbors were at home as I stood nude in the yard. Andy didn’t seem as bothered by it as I was. In fact, he gave me a sly smile and I knew exactly what he was thinking.
In the blink of an eye the two of us were wrestling in the mud and wet grass again, only this time we were naked. We’d already been wet, but now we were wet and muddy. Cold and wet as I was, I loved the feel of Andy’s slippery wet skin on mine. Even in the cold mud we found a way to grab each other’s privates and had soon popped wood. When Andy’s mother saw us, she shook her head and told us not to come into the house.
She grabbed the garden hose and squirted us clean. This time there wasn’t much I could do about her seeing me naked. I found out that I wouldn’t melt because she saw me in my birthday suit. My boner had quickly gone down in the cold water and I was happy about that. After rinsing the mud off of us she gave us both towels and sent us up to the shower.
Andy and I were both shivering with cold. We set the water for the shower and were grateful to step under the hot flow. We washed off the remnants of the mud and warmed our bodies. Sex was the farthest thing from our minds at the moment.
After showering we went to Andy’s room. We lay side-by-side on his bed, not bothering to dress. “You should turn out for my baseball team,” Andy told me, not for the first time. While he knew not to push me when I ignored him, he also had a way of returning to whatever subject I’d ignored earlier.
“I’ve never played baseball,” I protested. I had a way of giving in to him the second or third time he brought up a topic.
“You throw the ball really good,” Andy said. “And you’re really coordinated. You can learn how to play.”
“In the outfield?”
“That’s where you start.”
“I’ll think about it.”
That conversation was a life-changing event. I did more than think about it, I ended up turning out for the team amidst many misgivings. The only reason I did it was because I could be around Andy more often. Baseball ended up becoming an important part of my life from playing that summer between fifth and sixth grades to playing in middle school, high school, and college, to coaching youth and high school ball. Most importantly it became the connection to the boy who would become the love of my life.
I ended up not playing the outfield, as Andy predicted—at least not as my major position. During turnouts I learned that the two boys who had played catcher the year before had moved. The coach was looking for volunteers to play the position. Being a catcher sounded a lot more exciting to me than playing the outfield, so I volunteered. It didn’t take long for the coach and me to discover that the catcher’s box was my home; I caught ten of my team’s fifteen games that summer. By the end of the year I had become a good little catcher.
Oh, and if it matters, on the day we mud wrestled and then chatted nude on his bed, Andy and I ended up getting into numbers—the number 69 to be exact.
Playing baseball with Andy was a joy. Hell, just playing baseball became a joy; I found myself in love with the game as much as I was in love with Andy. I made friends with some of my teammates as I came out of my shell of isolation. I was acquainted with most of the boys on the team from school, but it took baseball for me to actually get to know them. What pleased me the most was how I was accepted by my teammates. I was amazed that they actually seemed to like me.
We had a pretty good season, winning eight and losing four in league and winning a couple of games in the league tournament to finish third. That gave us a 10-5 record. I hit .265 and everybody agreed I was one of the best defensive catchers in the league.
Troy made it to as many games as he could, often riding with Andy, Andy’s mom, me, and sometimes with Craig, who was Andy’s mother’s boyfriend. When our mom wasn’t stoned on her drugs, Troy would come with her. I always rode to the games with Andy.
Dad made it to one game. While he wasn’t drunk, he had been drinking some and embarrassed me by yelling at the umpire and the other team. Our coach finally had to ask him to shut his mouth. Needless to say, I was mortified by his behavior. I never did see Keegan at any of my games. I know he wasn’t at the game dad made it to because he and a friend were at home, drunk and stoned.
For me, life for most of that summer was good. I spent a lot of nights at Andy’s house. I worried about my father giving me shit about not being home much, but what little he said was usually in the form of an offhand remark. Andy and I had had sex just about every night we were together, and as often as we could on days in which I didn’t spend the night.
One of the summer highlights came the first weekend in June. Andy’s birthday was that Saturday, on the sixth, while mine was on Friday the fifth. I was invited to join him, his mom, and Craig, leaving on Thursday for a four day camping trip to Eastern Washington. We stayed at Sun Lakes State Park and enjoyed boating, swimming, hiking, horseback riding, and, in the case of Andy and me, sex in our little two-man tent, and, on Saturday evening, outdoors.
We had barbecued steak on Friday and Saturday for each of our birthdays. Andy and I both received Mariner paraphernalia as presents. The two of us couldn’t be happier.
The outdoor sex was fun, even if I was more worried about being attacked by a rattlesnake than I was about being caught by people. We rolled naked around the grass in an area surrounded by brush, kissing and rubbing boners and feeling each other’s asses. We finally ended up going the sixty-nine route in the dry grass. We finished off the evening in the tent, fucking each other between the legs in Andy’s sleeping bag, which is where we slept, not caring if Craig or Andy’s mom caught us together. Our young sexual appetites were insatiable.
I even got to participate in a couple of sleepovers with Andy and some of my other teammates. We were all ten and eleven and our chat was often about sex. We weren’t really sexual, however. The farthest we ever got was showing off our naked bodies and little boy cocks. Boners were rare, but a couple of our teammates, along with Andy and me, managed to show off our wood during a striptease on one of the overnights.
My life started to come unraveled late in July. Sadly, the beginnings were in Andy’s bed. He and I had just finished dry humping for the second time that night. I don’t remember our lips ever unlocking until after our second orgasms.
We lay in the bed, cuddling, our faces close, enjoying looking at each other and smelling each other’s sweet breaths. While we probably knew more about sex than most newly minted eleven-year-olds, we didn’t know about SEX, per se. Sure I learned stuff from Troy, which Andy and I tried out, but we never did the nasty deed. In fact, we really didn’t know that much about anal sex and sex play, beyond the fact that touching each other’s butts and butt cracks and occasionally doing a little bit of finger fucking, felt good.
Andy and I were in love, but were too young to understand what being in love was all about. Adults would call it puppy love, but to us the love was as real and tangible as our bodies were. For the first time in my life, I was aware of somebody other than me. During our tumble in the bed I wasn’t aware of anything but Andy’s sexiness, but now, looking into his eyes, I saw a sadness in them. We looked at each other saying nothing until tears started to form in those sad eyes.
“What’s wrong?” I whispered.
“Mom is going to marry Craig.”
“We kinda knew that,” I told him. “And anyway, I thought you liked him.”
“I do. I like him a lot.”
“Then why are you sad?”
“Because…because…well…we’re going to move away.”
“No,” I barely whispered. “No, you can’t move. I won’t let you.”
“I don’t want to move either.”
I couldn’t believe that tough me was dripping tears now, too. “You’re my best friend. You’re the only best friend I ever had. You can’t move,” I repeated.
“I can’t help it,” Andy sobbed. “You’re my very best friend ever.”
I was sad and angry at the same time. I wanted to hate him for abandoning me. I wanted to hate him for going away and leaving me without a best friend. But, I couldn’t hate him because he was Andy, which made him too wonderful to hate. I had to hate something though, so I hated Craig for marrying Andy’s mom and I hated her for marrying him, and I hated the situation for being what it was.
“Where are you moving to?” I asked, hoping that maybe it would be someplace close that I could ride my bike to or take a bus to.
“Gig…Gig…Harbor,” he choked out.
In my mind, he might as well be moving to the other side of the world. Gig Harbor was west of us, on the other side of Tacoma, across the Tacoma Narrows Bridge, and then to where everything was a mystery to me. I’d never been across the bridge. I knew it was farther than I could ever go by myself. I would never see Andy again. Of that, there was no doubt in my mind.
“When you guys gonna move?”
“In a couple of weeks. I just found out today.”
“So, when are they getting married?”
“Not until like around Christmas.”
“They’re moving before they get married?” My eleven-year-old mind couldn’t quite grasp the concept of the three of them becoming a family before the wedding. Somehow, the fact that Craig spent a lot of nights sleeping here didn’t register with me. That was just spending the night, like Andy and I did, which was different than living together.
“Then I’m staying here every night until you move.”
That is exactly what I did. Oh, my dad yelled and complained and let me know how ungrateful I was and threatened me with fates worse than death, but I went anyway. I told him Andy was moving and in two weeks he wouldn’t have to worry about my spending the night someplace else. He told me I was an ungrateful little shit, like I gave a fuck what he thought. What I did give a fuck about was the fact that I would have to spend all of my life at home once Andy moved.
I won’t go into detail about my last night at Andy’s house. Needless to say we kissed, we cried, we sucked, we humped, we had as many orgasms as young boys who still couldn’t shoot could squeeze out of their genitals. If we’d been older and more sexually sophisticated, I know we would have fucked each other raw. My only regret in my love affair with Andy is that we never knew enough to do that. But, at the time it was hard to miss something we knew nothing about.
The next morning, Andy’s mom told me what a great friend I was for Andy and that she would miss me as much as Andy would. I didn’t believe that for a second, but it was nice to hear. She told me that she thought of me as family, which made me wonder why she didn’t suggest I pack up my belongings and move to Gig Harbor with them.
She did promise me that she would find a way for Andy and me to spend time together. That didn’t really placate me; I didn’t want to spend time with Andy, I wanted to be with him, which to my way of thinking was not the same thing.
During the day I helped load stuff onto the U-Haul that Craig rented. A couple of Craig’s friends were there to help with the heavy work. Andy and I were both hard working boys and managed to accomplish a lot without being in the way—at least most of the time.
When the house was finally empty, Andy and I disappeared to his vacant, dusty bedroom where we had spent so much wonderful time. I am not referring to just the sexual time, but to the time spent just being best friends. We might have been a pair of unsophisticated pre-adolescents, but we understood how to take our leave of each other—we’d seen enough movies.
Of course, we kissed. And then we kissed some more. We kissed deeply, using every trick we’d learned over the last few months. We kissed and felt each other’s rock hard little cocks. We kissed and dropped our hands into each other’s pants and undies. We kissed and felt each other’s hard little asses. We kissed and we gave each other a dry orgasm. We kissed and cried until the call came that it was time for Andy to go.
We adjusted ourselves, but didn’t bother to wipe off our wet cheeks and chins. The two adults were kind enough not to comment. While it wasn’t the last time I’d ever see Andy, it was the last time we’d ever be together as boyfriends.
That night I wanted to be miserable. My father gave me a lot of shit about actually being home to eat for once, which helped to feed my misery. I spent the evening on my bed, wearing a pair of white briefs, tossing a baseball into the air, catching it, and tossing it back up. I didn’t try to hold back my tears.
Keegan helped me with my misery by stumbling into my room. “Your boyfriend’s gone,” he mumbled. He was obviously stoned. He tossed a joint on my bed. “That’ll help you feel better.”
“I don’t know how to smoke one of those things.”
“Fuck, you light it up and smoke it. It ain’t like rocket science. Smoke it and come down with me and dad and we’ll all get drunk. Be part of the family and don’t go being a shithead like Troy.” It said a lot that Keegan equated drinking with dad to being part of the family. It made me realize that I lived in one fucked up family which made me miss Andy even more, which made me even more miserable.
After Keegan left the room, I picked up the joint wondering if it really would help me feel better. I might have even tried it, but Keegan didn’t leave any matches and even if he had I had no clue how to go about smoking the thing. If I hadn’t despised my father so much, I might have gone to the living room and gotten drunk with him and my brother. Instead, I went back to feeling lonely and miserable, which is the way I wanted to feel anyway.
I eventually got tired of feeling miserable and I decided to go down and get drunk, even if I didn’t care much for dad or Keegan. The times I sipped beer with Keegan and Troy had made me feel good. I figured that drinking a whole lot of beer couldn’t help but make me feel even better. I was saved from making that ill-advised decision by the bedroom door opening.
I thought it was Keegan, coming to check if I’d smoked the joint. Instead, it was Troy, who’d been gone ever since I’d come home from Andy’s. Nobody knew where he’d gone, which led to the usual bitching from dad. I thought he probably was at a friend’s house, happy to be away from the circus that passed for our family.
“Hey, Troy.” It was the first remotely good thing to happen to me since I’d come home. “I thought you were spending the night with somebody.”
“I don’t know where you got that idea. I told mom I was visiting Tracy and having dinner at her house.” Tracy was Troy’s girlfriend.
“Mom was probably stoned on something. She never remembers shit,” I said, happy to sound grown up around Troy by saying the word shit.
“Yeah, you’re right. I probably should have left a note.” Troy sat on my bed and looked down at me. He put his hand on my chest and rubbed it lightly. “You already miss him bad, huh?”
“Yeah, he was my best friend ever.”
“You’d have more friends if you didn’t want to fight everybody.”
“I learned that from you,” I said with a giggle.
“Yeah, I did kind of pick on you a lot, didn’t I? But you became an expert at fighting back. You were a tough little shit.”
“I still am a tough little shit,” I grinned.
Troy was still rubbing my chest. It felt really good and as much as I wanted to be miserable, I was boning up instead. “You’ve got such nice smooth skin,” Troy said, his hand running along my chest and my belly.
“I bet Tracy does, too.”
“Her skin is real nice,” he said. His thumb pressed my nipple, which had become hard. “Plus she has something right here on her chest that you don’t have that is really soft and suckable.”
“I have something she doesn’t have and it’s hard and suckable” I said wryly.
His hand found the object that was tenting my briefs. “Yeah, you have this.” He started rubbing my rigid cocklet. “Plus, you’re my favorite brother, which is really special.”
“Did you feel Tracy’s boobs today?” I asked.
“Yes, I did bro.”
“Did you fuck her?”
“But you’ve done her for real?” That thought got me even more excited.
“Two times this summer.” My fifteen-year-old brother wasn’t a virgin, which I thought was very cool.
“Did you cum today?”
“So you got blue balls,” I grinned. “You must be really horny.” Troy had told me what blue balls were.
“I’m not, but I’ll help you because you’re the world’s best big brother.”
“Then let’s have fun.”
Before I could react, Troy pulled my briefs off, revealing my hard, hairless groin. He grabbed my cock again. “For a guy who says he’s not horny you’re sure hard.”
He got off the bed and pulled off his t-shirt, shorts, and boxers, revealing his six plus inches of teen cock. I pulled off my t-shirt while he stripped. He lay next to me on the bed—it was cozy, but I loved having my big brother wrapped around me, especially when we were both naked. I could feel his body soaking into me, literally feel the strength of his athletic fifteen-year-old body. I was in preteen heaven.
“I love you, Troy,” I said with as much sincerity as an eleven-year-old boy could muster.
“I love you, too, little bro.”
Troy’s laugh got cut off by me planting my lips as well as I could on his open mouth. He went from laughing mode to kissing mode. Our lips locked and our tongues battled and somehow I ended up on top of him, humping his big teen cock with my little preteen member.
“Damn, bro, you and Andy must have practiced kissing a lot. You’ve turned into a real good kisser. The chicks are gonna fucking love you.” I kissed him harder and shoved my tongue into his mouth in response to his comment. My humping sped up; I was feeling dizzy with lust.
But the good feelings between Troy and me came to a sudden stop when the door opened and Keegan came stumbling in, carrying a can of beer. All he was wearing was a Puma t-shirt, the bottom pushed out by an obvious boner.
“I knew you two were being faggots,” he slurred. “My brothers are fucking queers.”
“What the fuck do you want, Keegan?”
“I wanted my fucking weed since my chicken shit little brother ain’t gonna smoke it. Where is it, asshole?” he asked me.
“You know you can’t smoke it around dad,” Troy reminded him.
“I ain’t stupid, faggot. I’m gonna smoke it right here.”
“If you take it with you to your room, I’ll give it to you.”
“Fuck you.” Keegan took a big swig of beer out of his can. He was so drunk he couldn’t see the weed next to the lamp on my nightstand, almost in the same spot he’d set it before he left my room.
I was ready for the argument to become a fight when dad entered my room.
“I thought you were going to the bathroom,” dad growled. He took a sniff. “You little piece of shit, you went and smoked a fucking joint didn’t you?”
Instead of replying, Keegan took a swig of beer.
“What are you two doing naked in Phil’s bed?” dad asked Troy and me. “Keegan kept telling me the two of you were queer for each other. Damn, this is a fucked up family. Get some clothes on. I don’t want to see you ever in the same bed together again or I’ll beat the living shit out of you.”
My heart was pounding with fear. Dad scared me, especially after he’d been drinking. But he didn’t scare my big brother. Troy was still sitting on the bed, and he didn’t move. All he did was sit and glare at dad. I was surprised that his boner hadn’t gone soft.
The four of us stood in a tableau, looking at each other. Dad was the first one to move when he took two steps towards the bed. Troy stood up and stared at him. At fifteen, Troy wasn’t as big as dad; he hadn’t grown into his manhood yet. But he was a solid, athletic kid and was fearless in a fight.
“You’re such a fucking hypocrite,” Troy spat out. “You sit down on the couch drinking with your twelve-year-old son, and then you bitch about us having some fun getting rid of blue balls. I’m staying right here with Phil (I nodded hard in agreement), so you get out of the room. Go finish whatever you were doing with Keegan.”
“Fuck, I got three sons and they’re all pieces of crap,” dad mumbled. “At least Keegan spends time with his old man.” He gave Keegan an unfocused stare. “Get some underpants on. You’re as bad as your queer brothers.”
Troy stood a few feet away from dad staring him directly in the face. Even though he was naked and sporting an erection, he had an air of righteous dignity about him. “You’re an asshole of a father, you know that?”
“I should beat the crap out of you,” dad managed to slur out. “Get rid of that fucking boner you fucking faggot.”
“Shit, you’re too drunk to even stand up. Go back with your drinking buddy, you miserable piece of shit.”
“Come on Keegan,” dad said, sounding somewhat deflated.
“I want to hit my weed,” Keegan whined.
“You know what I think of your weed, now come the fuck on.”
Dad eyed me for a moment, then turned to leave the room, with Keegan following him. Troy got in the last word when dad reached the door. “If you ever try getting drunk and shit with Phil, I’ll kick you right in the balls.”
After Keegan slammed the door behind him, Troy sat back on the bed. He was breathing hard. “Sorry you had to be part of that dude.”
All I could do was nod. I was angry and confused.
“How come you don’t tell dad to stop drinking with Keegan?”
“Too late, I guess. I mean I gotta live here, too, and Keegan’s so fucked up I don’t know what to do anyway.” He thought for a moment and then giggled. “I wanted my boner to go away so bad and it wouldn’t do it. Must have been all of that adrenaline or something.”
I nodded like I understood, even though I didn’t have a clue what he was thinking. All I knew was everything was a mess. Andy was gone, mom was often strung out on drugs, and dad and Keegan were weird. The only positive person in my life was sitting naked on my bed looking sad.
“Don’t be sad, Troy.” I scooted over and rested my head on my brother’s shoulder. “I’ll always be here for you. I love you.”
“You’re really special, little bro, really special.” He put his arm around my shoulder and hugged me against his side. “And I was serious with dad. If he ever tries something with you I’ll fucking crush his balls.” He let go of me and stood up. “I guess our fun is over for the night.”
“Nuh, uh, no way. Dad and Keegan ain’t coming back. I want to do it with you, Troy. I love you.” Looking back at it I’m sure I sounded like a whiney little girl, but I didn’t care and I knew Troy didn’t care. I put my hand on his flaccid cock and started to play with it, causing it to quickly start to rise. I was happy to see that dad hadn’t taken the starch out of my big brother.
It took some time, but I seduced Troy. I did it by rubbing his cock and balls, by kissing him gently, then as hard and passionately as I could, and finally by getting as much of his big cock into my mouth as I could. He was leaking gallons of precum and I loved the salty taste of it.
“Oh my gawd, little bro, you are amazing…fucking amazing. No wonder your friend wanted you spending all those nights with him. Damn, you’re a good cock…ohhhhhhhhh, your tongue, ohhhhhhhhhhh fuck Phil…FUCK that’s good.”
I had been working my tongue on his glans while it was in my mouth. Now, I took the big cock out of my mouth and licked all around the top of it. I must have done it right, because he howled one more time and started squirting his sperm, splattering my face, my chest, getting some into my open mouth, the last of it covering my hand.
I licked my hand and grinned, and then Troy got me to giggling as he licked his emission off of my face, while he stroked my little hairless cock with his right hand. He started to move so he could go down on me, but he never had the chance. His hand sent me over the edge as I squealed with lusty satisfaction, my cock twitching and my body shuddering as I had a great dry cum. After seeing Andy leave, I decided I’d never have an orgasm again, but that resolve didn’t last long.
“I wonder what they’re doing downstairs,” I said.
“You don’t need to know,” Troy mumbled.
“Maybe dad is hurting Keegan.”
“Yeah he is, little bro. He’s taking advantage of Keegan and turning him into a drunk. Now, just cuddle up to me, little bro. Forget those two. We need each other tonight.”
I was curious and wanted to look at what dad and Keegan were doing, but I didn’t argue. Troy was right—we did need each other. The heat of his strong, smooth body felt good. His arms around me felt good. His light kisses felt good. His head on my little shoulder felt good. But his tears felt different.
“I didn’t know you cried,” I said with a young boy’s innocence. After all, Troy was my tough big brother. Troy was a jock. Troy was the one who stood up to dad. Troy was fifteen. People like Troy didn’t cry.
“Everybody cries, bro.”
“I love you, Troy.”
“And I love you, little bro. I love you more than you will ever know.”
I was unsuccessful in fighting off my own tears. It had been a long, emotional day, one that two self-professed “tough” boys had problems handling in a macho way. I had never felt closer to my brother. Looking back at it, I see that night as the time Troy and I truly became brothers. We started a love and bonding that would last us into adulthood, even though some serious bumps in our lives were right around the corner.
But the sentimental emotions of the day wouldn’t be put aside. The anger that I’d put on the back burner would soon be returning, hotter and more furious than ever.
Nothing was said the next day about what had happened in my bedroom the night before. Dad was actually half-way decent to Troy and me, which was often the case when he wasn’t drinking. Keegan pretended that we didn’t exist and we treated him with the same indifference.
Mom and dad both had Labor Day weekend off from work. We went to Seattle on Saturday and attended the Bumbershoot Festival at the Seattle Center. That day we actually behaved like a normal family.
Troy had fun pointing out the best looking middle school girls to me, like I cared. “Don’t you wish that blonde girl was going to be at your school?” he would point out.
“I suppose,” I’d answer.
“Come on, bro, you’re supposed to be excited and turned on.”
I didn’t bother to tell him that I was more interested in the black-haired boy the blonde was walking with than I was in her. At eleven, my sexual preferences were taking hold. The fact that my preference was a boy rather than a girl was starting to bother me some.
I had a good time listening to the music, watching the magicians and the jugglers, and stuffing myself with junk. Things were so normal Keegan even acted like a real kid. In my mind this was how life for an eleven-year-old boy was supposed to be all of the time.
That night we watched a DVD as a family. It was a comedy and we found ourselves laughing as a family. I was in good spirits as I prepared for bed. School might be just three days away, but I could handle that, or anything else for that matter, if I could come home to a family like the one I had today. Even Andy being gone didn’t seem quite so sad.
My spirits improved even more when Troy came into the bathroom. He stripped down to his briefs, with an obvious bulge creating a tent in the front. “Want to sleep with me tonight, bro?”
My answer was my smile. Even to this day I find it remarkable how I had grown to admire and love the brother I used to despise so much. Our four-year age difference didn’t matter—we had become best friends. To this day we are still best friends.
As we made out in his bed, he told me how he was going to visit his girlfriend, Tracy, the next afternoon while her parents were away visiting.
“How am I helping you?” I asked.
“By getting me off so I won’t be overly horny tomorrow.”
My response was to put my lips around his big teen cock. “Yeah, feels good, bro…feels real good. And trust me, I’ll do the same for you when you get a girlfriend.”
I didn’t care what he’d do. I was living in the moment. I was making my big brother feel good and that was all I cared about.
But the good times only lasted for the day. Mom cooked us up Sunday breakfast. I watched TV after we ate and realized I was lonely. Troy would be leaving to see Tracy, Andy was gone for good, and the baseball teammates who I’d hung out with were my friends because they had been Andy’s friends. I wasn’t good at making friends of my own.
After Troy left I rode my bike around the neighborhood, thinking maybe I’d run into one of those ex-teammates or into an ex-classmate. The problem was I had no idea what I’d do if I actually did come across one of them. I rode around the park for a while, and finally pedaled home. It was then that the good times ended and my home life went back to being a worse hell than it had been, if that was possible.
I put my bike away and walked into the house through the door that connected the garage with the kitchen. I heard voices coming from the living room and headed there to see what was going on. What I saw disgusted me and fascinated me at the same time.
Dad was sitting on his big overstuffed chair. I saw beer cans strewn around the living room floor. That didn’t surprise me since it wasn’t the first time I’d seen the messes dad and Keegan left after their drinking sprees. Keegan was slouched on the couch wearing a half-shirt and boxers, his legs splayed, drinking a beer. He didn’t acknowledge my presence.
What I was witnessing almost made me want to puke. I knew about dad and Keegan drinking together, I’d seen them do it, and decided it was their problem. One thing that pissed me off is dad sometimes made me pick up the cans the next day. That was one of many reasons I had all but lived at Andy’s house for the past few months.
I felt tears dripping down my cheeks as I looked at the mess in the living room. “This is so totally sick,” I muttered to nobody in particular. All of the good family feeling I’d enjoyed that weekend was gone. I was certain mom was probably upstairs strung out on pills, while Troy was at his girlfriend’s, while dad and Keegan were being shitheads.
I won’t go into the gory details, at least not much. They’re not what the story of Larry and me is about. But I do have to tell you a few things, since they have a bearing on my first day of middle school and the condition I was in when Larry first saw me.
Dad heard me muttering and looked my way. He told me to grab a beer, saying he knew I’d tried beer with my brothers when they’d been alone with me at night. Now it was time for me to wipe the sissy tears away and join them. I was eleven, just like Keegan had been when they started drinking together, and it was time for me to learn.
I refused to do any of it. Keegan laughed and guzzled almost an entire beer. He belched and said he didn’t feel good and dropped to the carpet. He crawled to the kitchen and started puking on the floor.
“Your brother is a pussy,” dad slurred. He once again ordered me to grab a beer, and once again I refused.
He got out of his chair and grabbed me, twisting my arm and ordering me to drink. That, of course, pissed me off.
“Let go of me, you fucker!” I screamed. I started kicking at him. He let go of me, stepped back and backhanded me, knocking me down onto the couch. I charged him and punched him in his gut. He looked at me, stunned that I would fight back, and then he hit me again, harder.
“Little fucker. You better respect your old man.”
“Fuck you,” I shot back. “You ain’t my dad, you’re some drunken asshole I don’t even know.”
He hit me again, but I ducked back enough that his hand hit my nose instead of hitting me square on the cheek. My nose started to bleed and I turned and started to run off with dad coming after me. I saw Keegan lying in his own puke as I ran to my room. Dad had enough sense to stop and help Keegan. I made it to my room. I was no longer just dripping tears and blood, I was bawling in fear and anger.
I wiped my nose. It had already stopped bleeding. I had a very tough nose. If dad made a move up here, I was going to kick him in the balls, run past him, and leave the house. I’d go sleep on the street before I let him touch me again.
I finally lay down on my bed. I tried to stay alert, but was so emotionally spent I fell asleep on top of the covers. I awoke sometime after midnight. The house was quiet. I went to the bathroom to pee. I looked in the mirror and saw blood crusted under my nose and my face turning black and blue. I returned to my room, pulled off my jeans, tossed them on the floor and crawled under the blankets.
A noise awakened me and I sat up in fear. I saw a shadowy figure in the room and was about to attack it when I realized it was Troy. I watched him undress in the dark and gave him room on the bed and patted it, so he would know I was awake and wanted him with me. He crawled in next to me.
“Thanks bro. Sorry if I woke you up.”
“I was awake,” I lied.
“I got a terrible case of blue balls. I was naked in bed with Tracy until she said I better go before her parents got home from their party. Shit, I only got off once…I thought for sure I was gonna fuck her. I even brought rubbers.” He stopped talking and felt my chest. “Bro, you’ve got clothes on. What’s the deal with that?”
I fought down a sob, but I couldn’t stop the second one from erupting. Troy turned on the light and saw my face. Seeing my brother’s face set me off into another crying jag.
“What the fuck happened to you?”
“I ran into a door,” I croaked.
“Don’t lie to me, bro. It was dad, wasn’t it?”
I started to sob harder as I told him what had happened.
“I’m going to kill the fucker,” Troy barked. “I told him I’d beat the shit out of him if he ever touched you.” He started to get out of the bed.
“Please don’t,” I cried. “It’s okay. I hit him back. I don’t want no trouble. I just want a family. I…I…,” I put my face into my big brother’s bare chest and washed it with my tears.
And that is how I ended up with a bruised face on my first day of middle school. It is how I got on the bus full of anger and hurt. Between losing Andy and having a father who was crazy when he was drunk and a brother who was as crazy as my father, I was angry at everybody, whether they deserved it or not.
Troy was the only positive in my life. I heard him and dad arguing Monday afternoon. I was hoping they would come to blows and Troy would beat the crap out of him, while at the same time, hoping they wouldn’t because life would be worse if they fought. All I know is dad had left me alone for the time being, which was a good thing, but he wouldn’t talk to me, which was a bad thing. He didn’t even offer an apology after he sobered up. Keegan didn’t remember anything that had transpired the night before. He was twelve years old and already a blackout drunk.
So, for me my life wasn’t good. I was determined not to like anybody or trust anybody, outside of Troy, ever again. I was ready to see if Carlos and his gang of hooligans were willing to take me in. I figured they would since I’d shown them I was a tough kid. I was ready to get into any kind of trouble I could find or create. I wanted to show the world what a bad ass I was. It was my way of telling the entire world it could go fuck itself.