Greetings and welcome back for another chapter of the Mayfield Trilogy. The first chapter disclaimers apply. Please be safe and help Nifty continue strong with a donation.
This chapter has some baseball, a much anticipated eighth birthday, and Rich and Marty having a serious chat with a finish they did not anticipate.
Please write to thehakannen@hotmail.com
Douglas.
CHAPTER 4 LAST WEEK OF SCHOOL
<Sunday, June 8, Shelton High School>
The Mayfield Falcons travel team had a Sunday doubleheader in Shelton, starting at noon. They were short some players with Bobby and Noah away for the weekend and Connor suspended for both games. But Connor remained faithful to his word and showed up for the double header.
Even shorthanded, they had thirteen players suited up, which was enough. Everybody got in a lot of playing time. Scott started the first game, struggled with his control more than usual because of the longer pitching distance, but still went five innings as the Falcons battled to a 9-6 win. Rich finished up the game. Marty had a home run, which, of course, got the Hurricane excited. He and his dad could only stay for the first game, which was probably a good thing considering Danny got the start at third instead of Marty and the final result of the game left much to be desired. The first game was a league game and the second game wasn't, leading Coach Miller to do a lot of experimenting.
Jerome was given the start in the second game and showed why he didn't pitch much. Coach Miller wanted to develop him as a pitcher because of his strong arm. But a lack of command hurt him as did the fact he much preferred running around center field tracking down fly balls to throwing the balls to the catcher. He had runners all over the place to start the game and found himself down 8-0 after two innings. Vince came in to pitch and was just as bad. The second game only went five innings because of the ten run rule. The Mustangs ended up on the wrong end of a 21-2 loss.
One of the notable things to happen that afternoon involved Connor. Chandler and Korey, their usual batboys, had their own game to play that afternoon, so Connor took care of the batboy duties. That gave him a reason to be in the dugout. Plus, he was able to be of help to his teammates. Nobody asked him to do the job, he just did it. Connor all but growled at anybody who tried thanking him for helping, but the team knew it was all a façade. Without saying anything, he let his teammates know he was doing the job because he was part of the team and because he wanted to make amends for his behavior on Friday.
After the second game, Coach Miller and Coach Sanders had a chat with Connor, where the coaches laid out their expectations. Even though Connor was moving on to high school and Coach Sanders would no longer be coaching him, his presence at the double header told Coach Sanders that Connor cared more about the team than about Connor.
Connor rode home with Vince and his father. Both boys said nothing about Connor not suiting up, although Vince's father knew the reason. The talk in the car was about baseball, girls, and the last two days of finals. Connor knew that Vince's older brother, who was eighteen, put together a quick party for his friends on Saturday, so the keg didn't go to waste. That kept Vince's father from going into a long tirade about the entire team suddenly deciding not to drink. Instead he went into a short tirade, telling the two boys he didn't understand this whole honoring the contract business. "Back in the day, if we'd signed something like that, we'd have driven out to the back roads and drained a few twenty ouncers just to show what we thought of that piece of shit paper."
The next game was Tuesday. The player designated not to suit up for that game was Gavin. Coach Miller came up with the player to sit for a league game by using a complicated system that nobody understood. One thing everybody did understand was that if their name got picked they were guaranteed not to be pulled out of the hat for the next four games, unless punishment was involved.
<Monday, June 9, Mayfield High School>
On Monday, Mike the Donkey had an interesting experience, which he shared with Eric after school. He was walking between classes at the high school when Coach Collins, the deposed high school baseball coach, turned into the hall. Mike was prepared to give his former high school coach a friendly greeting. Giving everybody a friendly greeting was the Donkey's style, unless he felt they deserved a thorough hoofing.
In Mike's opinion, Coach Collins losing his job as baseball coach was the equivalent of a hoofing, especially since his research into some improper financial dealings by the varsity baseball program was a factor in bringing down the unpopular coach. Unpopular meant unpopular with the players—he was a good old boy around town and liked by most of the citizens who followed Mayfield High School sports. The Donkey was ready to say his pleasant hello and move on when Coach Collins walked right up to him, his face contorted with anger.
"I was wondering when I'd run into your sorry ass," he told Mike. "It's pretty tough to hide out forever. It's not that big a school."
"Excuse me?" Mike said. He was stunned by the teacher's attack and by his language.
"I hope you're happy getting me fired."
Mike wanted to protest that he was just a baseball player and a student who had nothing to do with getting the coach fired, but he knew any protests would be futile. So he turned away from the coach and started for his next class.
"Not so fast, Michael. I just want you to know two things. First, whoever takes my place will be getting a full report on the players still in the program. Yours will be very unfavorable." Mike was just completing his junior year.
"Second, if the next coach happens to be Coach Gardner, and I suspect it will be since the booster club is already solidly behind him, he will be ten times as hard on you as any newcomer. He and I are tight. And...," the coach, who, at six-two, was an inch taller than the Donkey, leaned right into his face, violating Mike's personal space, making him uneasy, and whispered,"...he cottons to queers even less than I do and he and I both don't give a shit what the laws or school policy says. We can find a lot of ways to make your life miserable."
Mike stepped away from the coach, and then started around him. "And don't think about reporting this little chat. Everybody knows you have it in for me, and I doubt you will be believed. I still have a lot of friends on this faculty and in this town." As angry as Mike was at the threats the coach was making, he bit his tongue and continued walking into his classroom. While he didn't have a lot of love for the coach, he had felt no animosity toward him either; at least not until a few minutes ago.
<Tuesday, June 9, Kelso>
The Falcons Tuesday game was an away league game at Kelso. Since Kelso was next to Longview, Eric had texted Austin when they would be playing. Austin's team was not in the same league—his league still used 80 foot bases. Austin called Eric and said he would try to talk his parents into taking him to the game. When Eric told Austin that his coach might want to talk to him after the game, Austin's curiosity was peaked.
The reason for the chat is that Eric, Kevin, Lars, and Scott had met with Coach Miller a few days earlier, making a case for Austin being their pick-up pitcher when they went to their tournament in Oregon in July.
"He pitches from 54 feet," Coach Miller argued.
"So? He's good. Plus we got to be friends with him and it would be cool to have him on our team," Kevin said.
"We would have a better chance of winning if we picked up a player from our league who threw from the standard distance." That distance was sixty feet, six inches.
"But we would have more fun if Austin was on our team," Lars said.
"Wait. I thought you guys were all about winning. That winning was what your entire organization was all about."
"It is," Eric said. "And we all agreed that if this was about us playing in the league tournament or beyond that, we wouldn't even ask you about it. But we think our travel tournament should be for fun. Sure we want to win, but being with somebody we know and really like and who's pretty good...well, that's important, too."
"I understand where you're coming from," Coach Miller said. "I'll give your request some serious thought. But the final decision is mine." Coach Miller was still thinking he had to draw the line as to what decisions were his and what decisions belonged to the players'.
"No doubt about that," Eric said. "We were just telling you what we think."
"I'll ask around about your friend and talk to him when we play at Kelso. Then I'll let you know."
"Thanks coach," Scott said.
"Yeah, thanks for listening to us. That's all we want," Eric said.
When they got to Kelso the boys who knew Austin were excited to see him and talk to him before warm-ups started. Austin brought a friend along and introduced him to the Mayfield boys. His name was Skyler. Eric, Kevin, Kraig, and Noah all agreed that the dark haired boy was a very hot item. Their assumption was that Austin played around with him, but they didn't ask.
The game against Kelso was a good one, with the Falcons losing 4-3. The Falcons were playing an older team, but they held their own. Rodney started and pitched a complete game. Last year and in middle school ball, he was a dominant pitcher. Next year, in summer ball, he would probably be a dominant pitcher again. But this year, the thirteen year old was a very good pitcher, which was almost good enough for a win over the more experienced Kelso squad.
The Falcons made things interesting by loading the bases with one out in the top of the seventh. But the Kelso coach brought in a big kid to finish the game. The kid was closing in on fifteen and was at the high end of the age limit. He threw some serious heat and struck out Kevin and Carl on eight pitches to end the game.
Coach Miller had talked to Eric before the game started about introducing Austin to him after the game. Eric was pleased that the coach was willing to meet with Austin. Austin had called his parents to pick him up, so they were there to talk to the coach as well.
While Austin and his parents talked to Coach Miller, Eric, Kevin, Bobby, and Noah chatted with Skyler.
"I hear you guys showed Austin some stuff at a tournament last year," Skyler said. Austin had been a pickup pitcher last summer for a tournament in Salem, Oregon.
"Yeah," Eric said. He didn't commit himself any farther as he was not sure what Skyler meant by "stuff", and he wasn't sure how much Austin had told Skyler about that weekend. The Mayfield boys had shown Austin all about jerking each other off and having a circle jerk, punctuated by a class in Blow Job 101 the second night.
"I mean, like, fun stuff. He showed me what you guys showed him."
"Did you like it?" Kevin asked.
"Yep. It's not like I'm gay, but it's fun to do. I know you guys have fun doing it, too."
Eric was getting really tired of listening to the "I'm not gay" excuse by almost every boy who messed around. He liked how Danny and Carl, or even Chandler and Korey, handled it. They said they were horny boys who liked getting off with each other, so that was what they did. No excuses, no guilt trips, just horny dudes. When it came to the Mayfield eighth graders, Eric figured that he, Kraig, Kevin, Noah, and Bobby were the gay ones—everybody else just liked messing around. He was slowly accepting the fact that his boyfriend, maybe soon to be ex-boyfriend, Scott, wasn't gay. But at least he wasn't making excuses about having sex with Eric.
After Austin and Coach Miller finished their conversation, Austin joined the boys again. As Austin walked up to them, Eric couldn't help but notice his athletic body and wavy brown hair.
"What did Coach Miller talk about?" Eric said. He'd given Austin a heads up that he would be asked questions about the tournament in Eugene in July.
"Nothin' much," Austin said. "Just like you said, he asked if I wanted to pitch for you guys in that tournament. I said sure and the `rents were cool with it. He said he was asking some other guys, too, and he'd let me know."
"Well, I hope it's you, because we know you and you've become our friend."
"You just like my sexy body," Austin said.
"Well, there is that," Kevin replied with a laugh.
"If your coach picks up somebody else then you can teach him new stuff about sex."
"I figure anybody going into eighth grade knows about sex," Eric said.
"Yeah, but has he done any of the stuff us guys do?" Austin asked.
"Then, I guess we could teach him."
"I'm glad you taught me," Austin said. "Right, Skyler?"
"Right," Skyler said with a smile. Eric, Noah, and Kevin had no problem imagining Austin and Skyler naked in bed together.
"When is Coach gonna tell you his decision?"
"He said he'd let me know next week, so if I'm going I can plan."
"Tell us as soon as you find out," Eric said.
"That's part one of my plan."
<Wednesday, June 10, Mr. Bednarzyck's house>
Jerome caught up with Marty as he was leaving the building after school. "Hey, Marty, wait up."
"Wazzup, Jerome?"
"Some of us are staying around to shoot hoops if you want to join us." Jerome had been the leading scorer and rebounder on the basketball team.
Marty was pleased to be asked. For a long time he hadn't been included in activities like these. His peers had seen him as an aloof asshole with whom they had no desire to hang around, so they left him alone, which suited him fine. He liked being a loner and had convinced himself he hated everybody else as much as they hated him.
But as his months of sobriety added up, they were seeing a different Marty, one with whom they wanted to be friends and include in their activities. As much as he wanted to shoot hoops with his friends, he had made a commitment to somebody. One of the many things he was learning in his program was that keeping commitments was part of being rigorously honest.
"Sorry, dude, but I have someplace I gotta be tonight; maybe next time."
Jerome was wondering if he was getting a typical Marty put-off, but his friendly demeanor made him speculate that he might actually have a legitimate excuse.
"Whatcha got going?"
"A free steak dinner," Marty said with a wide grin.
"And I wasn't invited," Jerome said.
"Sorry dude, if I'd known you liked steak I would have asked you out."
"What do you mean, IF I liked steak?" Jerome and Marty exchanged fist bumps. "You better take it rare," Jerome said.
"Medium rare."
"Good enough. Hate to see you ruin a steak like say, Connor, who is Mr. Well Done. He might as well eat a fucking shoe." He paused suddenly. "Wait! What do you mean you would have asked me out? Is this like a date you're going on?"
"I wish, but it's dinner with a friend's family."
"You can be one weird dude, Marty."
"I take pride in it." They exchanged fist bumps again and headed their own ways.
Marty went straight home and showered. He put on his one dress shirt, a gray long-sleeve button down shirt. He started pulling on a pair of tan chinos and checked himself out in the mirror. I am a pretty hot looking dude if I have to say so myself, Marty thought. Mr. B. had told him that he wanted him dressed up for the birthday dinner. He remembered how that conversation went.
"Do I have to wear a tie?" Marty had asked, almost gagging at the thought.
"Everybody else is," Mr. B had said matter-of-factly.
"Even Sammy," Jeffrey told him. "But it's one you just stick on. So is mine. I'm going to wear an X-Man tie, and I won't use it as a napkin this time."
"I don't think I own a tie. I guess my dad has one somewhere. Maybe John has one. Not that I know how to tie one even if I can find one."
"Don't worry about it, there will be one here when you arrive," Mr. B. had promised him.
And that was the case when he got to the Bednarzyck house. He couldn't help but feel good about himself as he walked there from his house, carrying his present for Jeffrey.
The birthday boy met Marty at the door. He wrapped his arms around Marty and gave him a big hug. "Hi, Marty. I'm eight now. That makes me older than when I was seven."
"That's how it usually works." Marty said. He bent over and kissed Jeffrey's forehead.
"What did you get for my present?" Jeff asked.
"You'll have to wait to find out."
"That's no fair. My birthday started already, so I should be able to see."
"You can see it at dinner."
Jeffrey pouted for a few more seconds, but he knew Marty well enough now to understand he wasn't going to change his mind.
Marty entered the house and Mr. Bednarzyck greeted him and handed him a necktie. It was a dark blue tie with the logos of all of the Major League baseball teams on it.
"Oh, wow, this is a cool necktie. I might even like wearing it," Marty said. "But I still don't know how to tie it."
"Mrs. B. is the necktie tying expert. She's in the sunroom."
Marty took the tie to the back of the house with him. He had a feeling that the necktie was going to be more than just a necktie; it was going to become something special. It was a great feeling to have. He couldn't remember having the feelings of being right at home like he had at the Bednarzyck house. Jeffrey was a couple of steps behind him, enhancing those feelings. Marty stopped to let the eight year old catch up to him. He put his arm around the little boy's shoulders and the two of them walked into the sunroom together, big smiles on both of their faces.
Marty saw the birthday cake in the kitchen on the way to the back of the house. He knew it would be cake and ice cream when they returned from the dinner at Parker's Steak House in Centralia.
Lois smiled when she saw the two happy boys. Like her husband, she was pleased with the progress both Marty and Jeffrey were showing. She had been reluctant to open her house to a boy she saw as a drunk, a liar, and a thief. Her husband's urge to save the drunks of the world was frustrating at times, but she also knew it helped to keep him sober. But over the past few months she had grown fond of the young teen, especially when she saw the positive influence he had on her often rambunctious eight year old.
After she got Marty's tie perfectly knotted, the two boys headed back to the front of the house. Marty set Jeffrey's package on the table next to the cake. That immediately elicited a squawk from the birthday boy.
"You can't put that there."
"Why not? It won't attack your cake."
"Because you said I could open your present at dinner and dinner isn't here."
"I said you could open it at dessert."
Jeffrey put his hands on his hips and looked up at Marty. "You said dinner, so you have to take it with you."
Truth be told, Marty wasn't sure what he had said, and he certainly wasn't going to argue with Jeffrey on his birthday. "Okay, I'll take it with me."
"Yippee. I wonder what it is. Can I open it now?"
This time it was Marty's turn to put his hands on his hips, mocking his little friend. "Jeffrey, you just told me what I said, and if that's what I said, then you have to live with it."
Jeffrey grinned at Marty, "You're right." Marty knew those weren't words Jeffery uttered very often. Those words convinced him that he had indeed said "dinner" and not "dessert" and that Jeffrey wasn't yanking his chain.
On the drive to Centralia, Marty rode shotgun, while Mrs. B sat in the back between Jeffrey and Sammy, who were secure in their child seats. Jeffrey was surprisingly quiet, and Sammy, who was almost always quiet, chatted about the passing scenery and how he was going to have a hamburger at the restaurant. Mr. B commented on how the two boys seemed to have traded some kind of karma when they got into the car.
After arriving at Parker's Steak House and being seated, their waiter, Peter, introduced himself and the eating out for dinner ritual began.
"It's my birthday today," Jeffrey told Peter. He seemed to have found his tongue again. "I'm eight."
"Well, I must say you certainly look grown up for eight," Peter told him. Jeffrey was neatly dressed in a shirt, tie, and slacks, and his mother had used what seemed like gallons of gel to keep his normally unruly hair in place.
Jeffrey broke into a wide smile. "We're having cake and ice cream when we get back to my house."
Marty couldn't help but notice Peter checking him out. Peter looked to be in his early-twenties and Marty had to admit he was a really hot looking guy. Mr. B was a regular customer at Parker's, eating many business meals there, plus he and his wife ate there often. As a result, Peter had a familiar, friendly demeanor around the family. While Jeffrey had eaten at Parker's before, Peter had not been their waiter then. Jeffrey found himself really liking Peter.
Peter took their orders, with Jeffrey ordering chicken and spaghetti and Marty a rib eye steak with baked potato. As they waited on their orders, Jeffrey insisted it was time to open his present.
Marty pulled it out from under his seat, where he had placed it earlier. Mr. B had helped him pay for it. During one of their talks, Marty told him that when he made his amends there was some money that he would have to pay back, which was where a lot of his meager allowance was going. He was a bit upset because he couldn't afford to buy Jeffrey a present.
"I'll help you with the present. You have been a great help to Jeffrey. Consider my part a small payment for what you've done."
Marty wasn't sure what to say, but he knew the person who was in debt was him. "I owe you for how much you've helped me."
"There will be no argument. Some things you just have to accept, and my helping you here is one of those things." Marty knew better than to argue, so he accepted Mr. B's offer graciously.
Jeffrey's eyes were wide open with anticipation as Marty set the present one table in front of him. It was all the eight year old could do not to tear it out of Marty's hands, but he showed remarkable restraint. He wasn't quite as restrained when it came to taking off the wrapping, however, and within seconds he had a light blue t-shirt in his hands. On the front was the face of Tigger with "Tiggers Bounce" written underneath the face. On the back Tigger was sitting on his spring-like orange and black tail, ready to bounce on it.
"Ohhhhhh, I love Tigger," Jeffrey said. "Tiggers bounce just like me." He stood up and pulled the t-shirt over his dress shirt. As per Jeffery's mother's instructions, Marty had purchased it a couple of sizes too big and the t-shirt fit over Jeffrey's shirt without a problem.
Peter arrived with salads and Jeffrey made sure the waiter noticed his new birthday shirt. "I bounce just like a Tigger," he informed Peter. "Marty gave it to me for my birthday."
Peter looked at Marty with a knowing grin. "Marty is obviously a gentleman of good taste."
As Peter walked away, Marty looked at how nicely Peter's dress slacks draped over Peter's butt and thought `I may have good taste, but I bet Peter tastes good.' Marty's cock started to swell slightly at the thought and Marty admitted to himself yet again that he really was gay.
The dinner went well. Marty was amazed at the etiquette of Jeffrey and Sammy. They had obviously been schooled on proper restaurant etiquette. Jeffrey showed Marty how to properly lay his napkin on his lap, which forks are used for what, and any other little things that came to mind. Marty could see that in spite of Mr. B's complaints about Jeffrey's wildness, the boy had been raised to be well-behaved when he needed to be.
Later that evening, they had dessert at the Bednarzyck residence. Jeffrey showed off all of his other birthday presents, which he had unwrapped before leaving for school.
"Can you spend the night?" Jeffrey asked.
"Sorry, but we have school tomorrow."
"Tomorrow is the last day of school."
"But it's still a school night," Mr. B. interjected. "Marty will be staying over again."
"But it's my birthday," Jeffrey said disappointedly.
"I'm sure Marty will be staying here a few times during the summer," Mr. B said.
"You will?" Jeffrey asked eagerly.
"That's a promise."
"Yippee."
<Thursday, June 11, Rich's house>
The school day was over at 11:30. That meant eighth grade and middle school was finished at 11:30. The eighth graders had completed their three years in middle school and would be freshmen at the high school come fall. Mayfield didn't make a huge production out of finishing middle school. They had no graduation ceremony as such, but there had been an afternoon assembly for the eighth graders and their families on Wednesday afternoon, with cake and ice cream when the assembly was over.
While Marty's mother attended the assembly, his father said he couldn't get off of work to go. Marty knew that was a lie. His father hadn't had a problem making John's graduation assembly. He was pleased to catch a glimpse of the gray head of Mr. Bednarzyck, however, and it made the hurt of another slight from his father a little less biting.
Marty had cleaned out his locker on Tuesday. As soon as the last class was dismissed, he headed for the main entrance of the school where he met Rich. Rich had invited him to his house for lunch and a talk and Marty was interested to find out what Rich wanted to talk about.
They said little on the walk to Rich's house, and what they did say was small talk, mostly about being happy to be on their way to high school. At Rich's house, Rich set out sandwiches that his mother had made that morning along with a couple of apples. Rich said there was also ice cream in the refrigerator.
They each took a seat on a stool at the kitchen counter, sitting next to each other, munching on their sandwiches, saying nothing. They could both feel the tension in the room. Marty decided since Rich had invited him over to talk, he would let Rich get the ball rolling.
Rich finally took a deep breath and started the conversation. "Is what they said about what happened Friday at Vince's house true?"
"It depends on what they said," Marty answered. Obviously "they" was a teammate or teammates of theirs, but Marty didn't know who Rich had talked to.
"That you stopped everybody from drinking beer."
"I didn't stop anybody. I just decided not to do it."
"Rodney said you were pretty ballsy." Marty noted that Rich trusted him enough to reveal a name. "Is the whole thing about you being the first person to cross a line that Kevin made true?"
"Kevin didn't make a line; he just said anybody who didn't want to drink should come to the side of the room he was on. The keg was kind of like an imaginary line."
"But you were first?"
"Yeah."
"So you're really serious about not drinking booze any more?"
"Yeah."
"And you're never going to drink again?"
Marty took a moment to think of how he was going to answer that. He decided the best way was to say the phrase that had become like a mantra to him. "I'm not going to drink today," he said. "That's as far as I know."
"But you are going to drink tomorrow, then?"
"Tomorrow, I will get up in the morning and say, `Thank you for keeping me sober today,' to my higher power, and then meditate a moment to get into the right frame of mind to ask to be guided through another day of being sober. I gotta do that every day, or I could become fucked up in a hurry."
"You meditate? You mean like some guru with all the humming and stuff?"
"No, I just get quiet for maybe a minute and try to think only of what I can do to stay on the right track and to ask for help in staying on it. That's as far as I can go, otherwise it's all too complicated for me. Every time I promised not to drink, I ended up getting drunk."
"So you're, like, really an alcoholic? I mean I know when you were gone in January you went into one of the rehab places, right?"
"Yeah. And now I have people who help me not drink. People I can trust and call if I start to get in trouble."
"I guess it's my turn to say I'm sorry," Rich said. "I was pretty nasty to you at Bob's when you apologized to me."
"I don't blame you," Marty said. "I treated you like shit for a long time."
"And what you said about you being gay is true?"
"Yeah. Totally."
"I didn't tell anybody."
"Thanks for that."
There was more silence until Rich said. "I wanted so bad to be back with you. But you were being an asshole then. You were getting drunk all the time and I decided it hurt too much to be around you."
Marty said nothing. He'd made his apologies and all he wanted to do now was hear Rich out.
"I want to be your friend again," Rich said quietly. "Not like we were, but, just be your friend. Not like your bed buddy and that stuff...just ...your friend." To Marty Rich sounded like he wasn't totally sure about the truth of what he was saying. "I mean I got a girlfriend and everything now."
"You have always been my friend," Marty said. "I was just too fucked up to know it. I had to blame people for me being fucked up, and so I blamed you just because of what we did together."
"Are you sorry we did what we did?"
"Not any more," Marty said softly.
Rich faced Marty and looked into his friend's eyes. Marty looked right back at him. The two of them didn't move for close to a minute—they just sat staring into each other's eyes. Then there was a slight movement of their heads as they tried to lean closer to each other without it looking like they were leaning closer.
Rich suddenly rose from the stool and stepped in front of Marty. He felt like he had no control of what he was doing. It was like his body was moving on its own volition. Rich placed his arms on Marty's arms and once again looked into Marty's eyes. They never flinched as they looked into each other's eyes like they hadn't done so for over a year, which, in fact, they hadn't.
It was Rich who made the first quick move as his lips came into contact with Marty's. It was Marty who made the first really overt move as he put his arms around Rich and squeezed, kissing him hard, pushing his tongue into Rich's eagerly waiting mouth. The two young teens kissed awkwardly as they stayed perched on the stools, but that didn't last long. Whenever they thought back to his moment, neither of them could clearly remember how they ended up on the vinyl kitchen floor, rolling around on it, kissing passionately and madly, as if they could make up for an entire lost year with one long, hard, wet, deep kiss.
They uttered guttural grunts as they kissed and grabbed at each other. Marty's fingers found the zipper to Rich's cargo shorts, unbuttoning and unzipping them, his hand reaching inside to find the thirteen year old's hardening member. Rich was fondling Marty through the fabric of his jeans, but soon he had his fourteen year old friend's trousers open, and his hand inside Marty's boxers.
Their pants were soon pulled down past their knees as they continued to roll and hump along the hard floor. Marty found himself on top of Rich, pushing his five inch teen erection into Rich's four and a half. They didn't bother to look at how their partner's boners, and balls, and pubic hair, had changed over the past year. That was for the future. Right now their only concern was satisfying themselves and each other.
The two teens barely came up for air as they kissed and dry-humped. Rich's hand was busily kneading Marty's athletic butt, which wasn't easy as Marty thrust hard against the smaller, younger teen underneath him. They grunted, and grabbed, and thrust, and rolled on their sides, to ease the pressure Rich was feeling from the heavy, athletic, body on top of him and the hard floor underneath him.
"Oh, fuck, Rich, I'm gonna cum, fuck it's so close," Marty uttered.
"Oh, yeah, me too...me too," Rich said as he flipped Marty on his back, pressed his cock against Marty's and shot his teen cum over Marty's belly and cock.
"Ahhhhhhhhh, fuck," Marty screamed out, as his thicker, more mature cum shot out of his cock and mixed with that of Rich, making a slimy mess over both of them, with some dribbling onto the floor.
As they lay breathing heavily, they heard a noise. They jumped up to a sitting position and saw Rich's eleven year old brother Mikey and three other boys standing in the kitchen. What Mikey saw was his brother and his brother's one-time best friend with their pants and underpants down to their ankles, their shirts half-way up their torsos, and cum covering both of their bellies and crotches, as well as splotches of it on the floor.
"Damn," Mikey said. "It's about time you guys started doing that again."
"Oh, fuck, Mikey, you guys scared the shit out of us," Marty said.
"Nice to see you again, too. Did you ever think doing that on the bed in Rich's room would be more comfortable and private?"
"We kinda got turned on all of a sudden," Rich said. He and Marty saw that the other boys with Mikey were Drew, Chandler, and Korey. Rich and Marty had both played around with Mikey, and Rich still fucked his little brother on occasion. They knew Drew and Mikey were bed buddies. As for Chandler and Korey, even at eleven there wasn't much they didn't know about sex or hadn't done sexually.
So, while the scene in the kitchen was embarrassing, it wasn't a disaster. All four of the eleven year olds in the kitchen were rock hard. Rich and Marty watched them busily adjusting their junk to get themselves more comfortable.
"We're all done with elementary school," Chandler said proudly as Rich and Marty hurriedly dressed themselves.
"But you're gonna miss being with us in middle school," Mikey said.
"We're gonna have so much fun there," Korey said. "Just like Marty did." Marty knew exactly what Korey meant and couldn't help but blush. His sexual exploits during his three years at Mayfield Middle School had become legendary.
"You guys make a lot of sperm," were Drew's first words.
"Glad we could impress you," Marty said.
"Well, I'm gonna get my swimming shorts and then we're going to Drew's house and his mom is taking us to Chandler's house to swim." Mikey then got a sudden thought and said, "Does this mean you two are like boyfriends again?"
Rich looked at Marty, who surprisingly looked down shyly. Marty raised his eyes and flashed a hopeful smile.
"That's what I'm hoping," Marty said.
"Cool. I can't wait to watch you go all the way the next time instead of finding you looking dorky on the floor."
The four eleven year olds bounced to Mikey's room, and five minutes later came back out, finding Rich and Marty in the living room. All four of them had their little 2-3 plus inch cocks sticking out of the front of their shorts and were giggling like mad. Chandler was obviously the most well-endowed of the group. The four boys wiggled their hips, their pubescent boners jiggling back and forth.
"If you're quick, you can help us out so we don't have boners when we're swimming," Mikey said.
"You're the ones who have to be quick," Rich told them. "Now drop your pants and we'll help." He didn't need to ask Marty if he was willing—he knew Marty well enough to know that he was.
The four boys dropped their shorts and underpants to their ankles. Marty was on Chandler first, taking in his hairless close to four inch boner as Rich took hold of Drew's boner with his lips. There was no holding back by the soon to be middle schoolers, who probably couldn't have held back much even if they wanted to. Drew, who had not yet turned eleven, had never done anything sexual outside of his group of peers, and was the most turned on. The sandy haired boy (at least what could be seen of it since he wore it in a buzz cut) came first, his two-and-a-half inch boner twitching for a knee-buckling dry cum.
As Chandler approached his orgasm, Rich took Korey into his mouth. Within seconds Chandler came in Marty's mouth, a sweet drop of young boy cum dibbling onto the teen's tongue. "Oh, wowsers, that was totally great," Chandler said. "I heard you sucked good and you really do."
"You were wet," Marty said as Chandler removed his sensitive hairless cock.
"Yeah, sometimes a little bit comes out, but it doesn't shoot like you guys's does."
Mikey had his dick right in front of Marty's face before Marty could say anything else. He and Rich were both on their knees, and were now jerking their cocks as they sucked on Korey and Mikey. The two eleven year olds came almost simultaneously, both dry, and both intense. Korey and Mikey were both a bit better than three inches and both hairless. All four of the boys were cut.
"You're good, too," Korey told Rich. Korey had sex with his thirteen year old twin brothers frequently, and knew what a good blow job was. Mikey told Marty he was just as good as he remembered from a year ago.
The four tweens wiggled their bare asses at the two teens, who were now jerking themselves off on the couch. They pulled up their pants, but waited for a couple of minutes until Rich and Marty pulled up their t-shirts and blew their teen wads over their bellies for their second cum in less than an hour.
"That was fun," Mikey said. "We need to have a sex party some night." With that, the four boys were out the door.
"Your brother has turned into a big time horn dog," Marty said.
"Tell me about it. He can't get enough of it. Just like you."
Marty grinned and planted a kiss on Rich's lips, his hand rubbing along his friend's hairless balls. At thirteen, Rich had a small patch of hair above his cock, but nothing like the nest Marty had grown.
"You've got a lot of hair now," Rich said as they broke their kiss.
"You've grown too, hair and cock both."
Rich looked at Marty and flashed him a smile. "Welcome home," he said.
"What about your girlfriend?"
"It depends," Rich said.
"On what?"
"It depends if we're going to be boyfriends or not." This was Rich's way of confessing to being gay without actually confessing.
"Like I told your brother, I'm up for it."
"Then I guess Trish and I will have to break up."
That statement was followed by a long deep, wet, and heartfelt kiss.
Next: Just Say You're Not Gay