Drummer Boys

Drummer Boys By Kevin Carson

This story is about my relationship with my friend and, well, more-than-a-jack-off buddy. Yes, it includes gay teen sex stuff. It's based on true experiences but some of the names and places have been changed for privacy. Hey, if this is illegal where you're at or if you're too young to be reading this, then you better not. Getting in trouble isn't cool. All rights reserved. No reproductions permitted without prior permission.

Thanks to everyone who has written to me. I really appreciate your comments/feedback and questions about this story. My email is: kc.drummerboy@yahoo.com.

Sincerely, Kevin.

Part 26.

I don't even know what time it was... it was late, I know that. Mark and I stayed in the car while I took the call from Townsend. "Dude... what's wrong? What happened?" I asked, extremely curious.

"It's... my job. I, um... was... let go."

I wasn't yawning anymore. "W-w-why??" I stuttered.

Mark mouthed the words, "What's going on?"

"Umm, I was caught with a... digital camera."

"What??? You haven't even been there two weeks!"

"I know, it was stupid. I hid it in my pants but they still caught me with it."

"Jesus, Townsend. What the fuck??!! How much did it cost?"

"I think around four hundred dollars," he said, " I'm not really sure, I just saw it and thought I could take it, so I did."

Mark was tugging on my arm, begging to know what this was all about. At some point, I was going to have to explain all of this to him. Remember, I never confided in Mark, or anyone, about my knowledge of Townsend's thievery. I covered the phone and whispered that I'd explain later.

"What else happened? Did they call the cops or anything?"

"No, I lucked out there. The assistant manager, who actually fired me, is a good friend of Cameron's, so that's why they didn't call the police. And they're not going to prosecute, so at least I won't have a juvenile criminal record. But I know Cameron's gonna kick the shit out of me, wait and see."

"You know, this is fucked up, Townsend. Are you sure you're OK?"

"Yeah, I guess. But I feel like shit. It's embarrassing, because my parents know, too. I'm dead meat." He sounded nervous and worried, not his usual confident, happy-go-lucky self.

"Don't talk like that, damn it! Look, whatever you need me to do, I'll do it. Do you want me to come over?"

"No... no... I just wanted you to know. This all went down earlier tonight, and I'm pretty much the outcast around here. I was just... I dunno... thinking... I dunno..." His voice sorta trailed off.

He was trying to put on a good cover, but I knew he was upset, and understandably so, even though what he did was seriously the dumbest thing, ever! "Do you wanna come here and stay with Mark and me tonight?"

"What??? Mark's there? Man, I didn't mean to bother you guys..."

"No, seriously, it's OK... do you wanna come over?"

"I can't. I mean I better not even ask. I think my parents are in bed, and I don't want to risk getting murdered if I even try to talk to them. And if I sneak out, that'd be a fucking disaster too. My dad needs to fuckin' chill out."

"Are you sure you're alright?" I asked once more. I wasn't going to believe him, no matter what he said.

"Yeah, I'll call you tomorrow. I better go."

"OK... if you say so. Goodnight, man." I hung up and just stared at Mark, speechless.

What had me sorta pissed off is that Townsend's family hardly ever pays any attention to him. Now he makes a mistake... granted, a big one... but they treat him like shit.

"What the fuck was that all about?" Mark asked, again.

"Let's go in. I'll tell you in bed."

We closed everything up downstairs, then got ready for bed. My mind temporarily drifted from Townsend's problems, as soon as I heard Mark in the bathroom pissing. Ordinarily you can't hear when someone's in the bathroom, but being the perv that I am, I put my ear up to the door. Boy, what I'd give to be in there holding his dick while he peed. But then again, he'd probably get hard, and wouldn't be able to pee... so I had to forget that idea, for the time being.

Anyway, after our bathroom rituals of pissing, brushing teeth and washing up, we were back in my room, stripped down to our underwear. In bed, we pulled the sheet up just far enough to cover our asses, and Mark smooched me all over my face and hair.

"Stop it. You're turning me on." I laughed.

"Sorry! What's up with Townsend."

I told Mark everything. About the camera and getting fired, about the shoes, and God knows what else.

"Jesus, sweetie, I had no idea. So old Townie's a clepto... I never would have thought. Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"How could I? I thought maybe you knew and were sworn to secrecy, too. I mean, it just wasn't my place to say anything. I wanted to tell you, though. Please don't think less of me."

"Sweetie... I don't think less of you at all. I sure as hell know you can be trusted, that's for sure, not that I didn't already know that. You are an excellent friend. I really respect you, Kevin."

"Mark, I would tell you anything... everything... but this was just different. Believe me, I thought about talking to you or Dad because it bothered me, but I guess I kept hoping he'd stop it. The Millers are so fucking rich, he could buy whatever he wants. Why'd he have to steal?"

"What are you gonna do?" Mark wondered.

"I don't know. I just don't know." We kissed goodnight and fell asleep right away. No fooling around, at that particular moment, darn it.

But, there's something about waking up in the middle of the night, and the nearly-naked person sleeping next to you wakes up too, bodies touching head to toe. I must have been a little tense, even after a few hours sleep, because Mark started to rub my back and shoulders. While he was kissing the back of my neck, his hands worked their was down to my ass. He pulled my underwear part-way down and kneaded my cheeks awhile, before spreading them. He licked a finger and played with my hole, then slid it in. I gulped and raised up a little. My fully-erect cock was rubbing between my stomach and the sheet, and I felt a little something squirt out of it the second Mark's finger was all the way in. He reached under me, between my legs and played with my balls. It was pure middle-of-the-night bliss.

I rolled over on my back and scooted out of my underwear. Mark continued to straddle my legs and leaned down to briefly tease my cock with his tongue. He swirled around the head and licked up a gob of precum. I was leaking like a faucet. He kissed me all over my stomach, and really went to town sucking that area between my pubes and hipbone, one of his favorite areas to give me a hickey. (That area's OK, Mark... just not on my neck, please! How would I ever explain that??)

I swear my dick was harder than ever. I couldn't stand it any longer and was just about to grab it and start jerking myself off, when Mark beat me to it. He spit on my dick to add to the slipperiness of the precum. It was hot hearing the squishing sound as he pumped me, along with his breathing and my moaning.

"I want you to cum." He whispered as he kissed my balls.

"OK."

"Are you gonna cum?

"Uh-huhhhhh... ohhhh..."

"I'm gonna make you cum."

"Oh yeah... ohhh... hhhhhhhhuuuhhh... uhhhhh... hhhaaaa... I'm... I'm... oh look!!"

I bucked and squirmed as he continued to squeeze my dick, pumping me dry. I shot all over his hand and fingers and got some on my tummy and in my pubes, too. Mark kissed my cum-covered cock and stomach, but didn't lick it all up. He smeared the rest around on my skin like it was lotion.

It really was morning when we woke up the next time. I sneaked out of bed to go to the bathroom, trying not to disturb Mark, but he must have heard all the sounds of the morning anyway, because when I crawled back in bed, thinking he was still asleep, he screamed "Boo!" as if to scare me. I smacked his ass and called him a fucker.

I felt bad that he "took care of me" in the middle of the night, but I hadn't "taken care of him." So I did then. I got down to business... kissing, licking, sucking and probing... working Mark into an orgasmic trance. He was half-sitting up on my bed, underwear barely pulled down. I noticed they were a little damp and sticky, but anyway, we both watched while I jerked him. I put my face real close to his dick, and both of us watched in amazement as he made his mess. After all the heavy breathing and "ohh's" and "ahh's" we smiled and giggled. We needed a shower, so Mark used mine and I took one in Dad's.

Eventually, after snacking and b-s-ing a bit, Mark finally said he better get going. He had to work at King Kullen from 2 to 5. I had to face the fact I'd have to share him with his little grocery-store job for three hours! Before he went home, he asked if I was going to call Townsend again, and I said yes.

After Mark left my mood changed. As understanding as he was about me keeping the Townsend thing to myself, I still felt bad that I hadn't shared that information with him. I was second-guessing my every decision. Why didn't I try harder to Make Townsend stop? Why did I accept those shoes, knowing they were stolen? Why didn't I go to Dad for advice? And now, after waiting so long, I was too ashamed, I guess. I shouldn't have been... after all, I'm not the one who was caught stealing. But I do know, full-well, what that doomed feeling is like when you get busted, because not-so-long-ago, I was the one caught doing something I didn't want Dad to know about. Remember?

I called Townsend. I didn't wait for him to call me. "Dude... you any better today?"

"I dunno. We had a really, really long talk this morning, and I basically told them everything. I pretty much admitted that I've been stealing stuff for months. In a way I'm relieved, but I still feel like a pile of shit. Now they're thinking about not letting me go on the civil war trip, and that really sucks." Then he suddenly hung up, so fast. "Hey I gotta go!"

I thought, gosh, if Townsend's parents won't let him go to the civil war camp, that meant I'm the one who would go in his place. I really wanted to go on the trip with Mark, and it looked like now could be my chance. Maybe that's the answer. Maybe it's meant to be. Maybe that's the way Mark and I will end up getting to be there together. Maybe not...

I wasn't thinking straight. Something about this wasn't right. How could I go instead of Townsend, when, in a way, I had something to do with the whole stealing thing? I decided to take a long bike ride to relieve some of the self-imposed tension I was feeling. It's not like anyone was throwing me the one-two punch. I was beating myself up. I didn't know what to think, I was so damn confused. Who would ever understand what was going on in my head?

I wasn't actually thinking about Nora or anything, but when I rode past Walgreens I wondered if she was working. I went in and looked around, but didn't see her. A cashier asked if she could help me, but before I answered, I saw my old buddy, Arlo!

"Hey, kiddo! Where the heck you been? I ain't seen you in ages!" Arlo and I were both excited to see each other. I gave him a big hug.

"Oh, I've been around. Kinda busy, you know, with school and all. How are you doing, Arlo?"

"Well, you know, the typical aches and pains, but Judy, my daughter, she's the boss, she says if I keep busy I keep out of trouble!" He laughed, and I smiled, scrunching up my nose. "So come on, it's break time, let's go in the back. By the way, our girl Nora, she ain't here, so you're stuck talkin' to me, hahaha!"

"Oh boy! Here we go!" I thought to myself. We sat at a small table in the little lunch room. Arlo got himself a cup of hours-old coffee, which I declined when he offered some to me.

"So what's troubling you?" he asked.

"What?? Oh... nothing, really. I'm doing OK."

"Come on, kiddo. You ain't foolin' me."

"Yeah, I know. I was just thinking... I'm a little worried about a friend of mine who got in some trouble, and I don't know what to do about it, but I'll figure it out."

"Well, what can you do? If he's in trouble and you ain't got nothin' to do with it, then you gotta stay out of it."

"Yeah. That's just it, Arlo. Look, I don't wanna bug you with this. Maybe I should go." I started to get up.

"Wait a minute. Sit your skinny ass down here. You ain't goin' nowhere. Somethin's bothering ya. Spill your guts!"

"Really, Arlo..." I hesitated. "It's nothing... it's just that, he's a really good friend, my second best friend actually, well he was stealing and got fired from his job last night."

"Well, kiddo, you and me both know stealin' ain't right."

"I know, but..."

"It don't matter if you rob a bank or steal penny candy, stealin' is stealin'. It ain't right."

"Yeah, but see, I sorta had something to do with it. It's not like I told him to do it, but when I first found out he stole something, I didn't say anything. I should have told him it was wrong, don't do it anymore. But I kept my mouth shut. I even kept something that he gave me, knowing it was stolen. It makes me just as bad as him, doesn't it?"

"Kiddo, you're being too rough on yourself. I'm sure your friend knows right from wrong."

"Yeah, I get that. But here's the thing, my friend Townsend, and my other friend, my boyfriend...you know...Mark... well they were picked to go out of state this summer, to a camp that does all kinds of civil war stuff. It's so cool. And I'm the substitute; I'd be the one to go if one of them can't. And see, now he said his parents might not let him go because of getting caught and losing his job."

"Hmmm, sounds like you'll get to go now! But you're really upset about this, aren't you kiddo?"

"You can tell?"

"Hell yeah! It's written all over your face. You show your emotions more than anyone I ever met... in my whole life! Now that's somethin', I tell ya!"

"But it's wrong for him not to go. I was thinking, what if I tell his parents, you know, that I'm partly responsible, that I didn't try to stop him. That if I'd been a better friend maybe he wouldn't be in this situation?"

"Well, you can try. But remember... he did this stuff on his own. It's not like you egged him on... You didn't make him do it."

"Do you think I'd be interfering, if I said something?"

"Look, kiddo, it's up to you. You have a point. You are somewhat involved, because you knew about it. Maybe you could have talked some sense into this kid. Maybe it would have done some good, maybe not..."

"Some friend I am, Arlo. I stood on the sidelines and watched it happen." I muttered softly.

"You're heart's saying you should talk to his mom and dad. What's your head tellin' ya?"

We sat there in silence for a moment. Thinking about what Arlo just said, I knew what I had to do. He's got a different view of the world. "Thanks, Arlo. You've been a big help. I didn't mean to bother you." I got up to leave.

"You been one big bother to me since the day I met ya, kiddo!" Arlo squeezed me in a grandfatherly way. "Now get your skinny ass outta here and do whatcha gotta do! I'm busy!" He winked and smiled and messed up my hair, like Dad does.

"Umm, tell Nora I said 'hi,' would you?" I asked.

"Yeah, yeah." And we waved goodbye.

I rode straight over to Townsend's. It was a pretty nice Sunday afternoon, and at first it looked like things were normal at the Miller's. It was anything but. The Benz was parked outside the garage. Townie and his parent's were setting up planters and flower pots and outdoor furniture on the brick patio, an extension of the driveway. Their rather large backyard was impeccably landscaped, complete with solar lighting, a doghouse and a treehouse. Townsend looked kind-of sexy wearing dirty jeans and a white T-shirt, with and smudges of dirt on his arms, face and shirt. He came over to me as I parked my bike and said things were still pretty tense. I said hello to his parents.

"Hey, Kevin, it's good to see you, young man." Mr. Miller greeted me as we shook hands, so firm and businesslike. His mom offered me something to drink.

"No thank you."

"Have a seat. What brings you here, Kevin?" His father asked. He obviously knew Townsend and I had talked. Townsend went in the house for a second while I made strained small-talk with his parents. He came back out with a Mountain Dew for me.

I thanked him, nervous as hell. I'd thought about what I wanted to say, but hadn't rehearsed it, so I was just gonna blurt it all out.

"Mr. Miller... Mrs. Miller... I want to talk about what happened. I'm sorry if I'm out-of-line, but Townsend's my friend, and I let him down..."

"Kevin," Townsend interrupted, "What are you saying?"

"Please, let me finish. Townsend, I let you down. I should have tried to make you stop." I turned to his parents, "You see, this whole mess is partly my fault because, if I had been a true friend I wouldn't have let him do this stuff. I knew it was wrong, now I'm just as guilty. Blame me... not him."

Townsend put his head down, in silence.

"Kevin, it's very commendable, what you're saying, but Townsend acted on his own. Isn't that right, son?"

"Yeah, Dad. Kevin, you don't have to do this..."

"I know, Townsend, but I've thought a lot about this and actually, it's been bothering me for a long time... a really long time. It's kinda like the 'friends-don't-let-friends-drive-drunk' thing. I should have let you know how I felt about this a long time ago. I feel partly responsible, and I'm sorry. I'm really sorry." Townsend looked away, as if he was maybe hiding a tear. I know I was choked up.

"Kevin," Mrs. Miller spoke up, "You are very loyal. We're lucky our son has a friend like you... Townsend is lucky. You're very brave to come here and talk to us about this. But there are consequences Townsend has to face..."

"I know that, I get it. But please, Mrs. Miller, please let him still go on the civil war trip, please. It wouldn't be right to not let him go. What happened with the camera and the other stuff, it has nothing to do with civil war camp. If I had to go in Townsend's place that'd be even worse... I won't do it. Please, I'm begging, still let him go." It was hard to say that, and I thought maybe I'd already said enough... too much. "I better go." And I got up to do just that, before the situation got any more awkward.

"We'll think about what you've said, Kevin, we'll think about it." Mr. Miller gave me that cold, hard handshake again.

"Thanks... please..."

Townsend walked me to my bike and thanked me again, and said I didn't have to do what I did, but he appreciated it.

I whispered, "I really ought to kick your fucking ass. You shouldn't have done this shit in the first place. Show me that you're my friend now, and never do this again."

"Don't worry, I'm done, you're right. I did it, I guess, because I could, as long as I could. I knew someday I'd get caught, but I just thought whatever."

"Townsend... I told Mark. All this time I kept this between you and me, but you know he was with me last night when you called, and I couldn't keep it from him any longer. I had to tell him..."

"I understand."

"Dude... are we cool?"

"Yeah, we're cool." We bumped fists. "Later." And I rode home.

It was a happy-sad thing, that I talked to Townsend and his parents. If nothing else, at least now I got my feelings out in the open. I had been a nervous wreck, and his dad can be a little intimidating. It's like he's waiting to catch you in a lie or something. I didn't know him well, but Mrs. Miller, although usually somewhat quiet, seemed to smile and be cordial. And even though I didn't like them leaving Townsend alone so much, it was generous of them to be so hospitable to his friends and let us all come over all the time. Those parties and get-togethers, the sleepovers and practices... jeez!

But still, to myself, I wondered if his stealing problem was a red flag. A signal, maybe, that he felt... ignored, that he wanted their attention. A sign that money and things and freedom can't cover up what's really going on in his head. At least I got to say what was going on in my head... part of it, anyway. It was one thing for me to talk about the stealing, but I'd really be sticking my neck out if I told them how I really felt about them leaving him alone so much.

Sunday night was calm and laid-back around the house. Dad, Keith and I watched a little TV after dinner. We all agreed that 'Extreme Home Makeover' is a bit over-the-top. Dad didn't quiz me too much about my quietness, but offered his 'I'm-here-if-you-want-to-talk-about-it' line. "Thanks Dad, I'm good."

My ass was beat, and I just wanted to go to bed. I'd been taking those naps every day after school, but even that was getting to be not enough. I laid there in bed, on my back, with my hands down in my boxers. I played with my balls while I thought alternately about Mark and Townsend, about how different they are, and how my relationship with each of them is different, but how they are both so important to me. I must have fallen asleep at some point, but not a deep sleep. I tossed and turned all night.

Man, the next day I was dragging. I couldn't wait for the school year to be over. Basically, my music life, at least as far as school goes, was pretty much done for the year. Percussion isn't needed for the commencement orchestra at graduation, and jazz band was playing at the athletic awards banquet. The choirs were performing at the academic excellence awards, and there were no other scheduled performances over Memorial Day. So I was basically done.

Monday after school I had another visitor waiting at my locker. It was Townsend this time, not Emily.

"Hey dude, I've hardly seen you all week, so far. You avoiding me or something?" I was only teasing, trying my best to sound like a smartass.

"Uhh, no... er... yeah, I guess. But it's only Monday."

"Townsend, now what's wrong?"

Well, nothing, I just wondered if, like maybe I could give you a ride, or something, so we could talk."

"O... K...?" Now I was nervous. I quickly called Keith to tell him to go on without me. "So... what the big deal? You gonna tell me or what? Are things alright at home, after the weekend? I hope I didn't overstep my bounds... is that it?"

"No, Kev, you were fine. Everything's OK with my mom and dad. You really helped me a lot. They were very impressed with you, Kevin. And I gotta hand it to you, too. You're an awesome friend. I just never knew you cared that much."

"Townie, hey... you're an awesome friend, too. Of course I care, as much as I know how to. If it weren't for you and Mark, I'd sorta just be a lost soul wandering around." I tried to lighten things up, because Townsend seemed really down.

"Yeah... Mark..."

"You and Mark are my best friends. I don't know what I'd do without you guys. I l-l-like you both, a lot."

"Kevin, my parents thought a lot about what you said, and they decided to let me go to the civil war camp after all. I know how bad you really want to go... please don't be mad."

I tried to swallow the huge-ass lump in my throat. "Yeah, I wanted to go, at first, but I really feel it should be you and Mark, and that's the way it's gonna be. Oh, wow, look, we're at my house already! Hey, thanks for the ride!" I got out of the car as fast as I could.

"Later, Kev..."

"Yeah... see ya tomorrow..."

I went straight to my room, exhausted, my heart drained, and cried myself to sleep. I woke up around seven o'clock, having missed dinner. Dad said there was stuff still on the stove, but I just curled up my nose. I wasn't hungry and I felt like crap.

I think when you're under stress and worry a lot, your resistance goes down the tubes. And I was too dumb to admit it, but that's what was happening to me. All the clues were there: Mark said he wasn't feeling too hot (I think he's waaay hot, but a different kind of hot), and I'd been fighting that nagging tickle in the back of my throat. Seemed like I just couldn't get rid of it. In fact, when I would swallow Mark's jizz it even burned. I don't remember it being like that before. Sudafed, Tylenol and some of those cough drops helped a little everyday.

The next morning I didn't ride with Keith. He had some shit going on, or a final or something, but before he left the house he asked if I was OK.

"You look all flushed Kev. You feeling alright?"

"Ahh, I dunno, my throat's a little scratchy, but I'll be fine."

"You've been kinda quiet at night, Little Dude. You haven't been keeping me awake making any noise." He tried to be funny.

"Ha ha." I replied sarcastically.

When I got to school, most people had already gone to class, I guess including Mark. I did, however, see Lisa after third period. It's like she went out of her way to find me.

"Hey, cute stuff!"

"Hey Lisa, what's up?"

"Mark's really sick. He went to the health center and the nurse is sent him home. She thinks it's strep throat, so he's going to the doctor, and that isn't gonna be pretty."

"No! NO!! Jeez, Lisa, thanks for letting me know. Can I do anything?"

"Nah, he just told me to let you know. Maybe call him later. Gotta run."

"No wait... what do you mean, it won't be pretty?"

"Oh, he used to get strep really bad every year since he was little, and last year when he had it, the doctor gave him a warning he didn't want to hear."

"Like what?"

"Like, the next time he'll probably have to have his tonsils out. Well, this is the next time."

"Oh, fuck. No..."

I know, I know, if Mark had strep that sure as hell explains my sore throat too. When Lisa told me, I knew I'd better to get to the doctor as well. We'd been going to Dr. Meyers for as long as I could remember. I didn't have an appointment, but I didn't think there'd be any problem. Besides, he knew me pretty well since I always saw him every six months for my Ritalin check ups. I took myself off of it awhile ago, but that's another story.

Anyway, I told the receptionist that my girlfriend had strep, and that was it... they took me right in the examining room. The nurse did a throat culture and Dr. Meyers gave me a prescription for an antibiotic without even waiting for the results.

"Smart thinking on your part, Kevin. I'm glad you came in when you did. If your girlfriend has strep, you'll surely get it too." God, could he have gotten that flashlight and tongue depressor any further down my throat?? "Who's the lucky girl? Anyone I know?" I hoped this wasn't going to be an inquisition.

"Oh... no. I don't think so."

Now he was feeling all around my throat and neck and behind my ears, I guess to see if I had swollen glands. "So... dating, hugging, kissing... that's about it, right? As your doctor, is there anything else I should know about?"

"Doc! That's sorta... kinda like... personal, you know. But, uhh... no, that's it, we're not, umm... doing anything, like... you know..." Jeez was I embarrassed.

"OK. Here... get this filled right away. Take two pills immediately, then one every four hours. Be sure to take all of them, until they're gone. Got it? Let me know if you have any problems. I'll call in a few days." He patted me on the back and told me to say hello to Dad, and take care of myself. Thank God he didn't ask any more questions.

But I had one for him. "Doc, can I ask you something? Can having strep cause you to have your tonsils out?"

"Well, it can, but don't worry, you've already had yours out."

"I know, but, like is it a serious operation if you need to have them out?"

"Not usually for smaller kids, it's pretty routine. But it can get a little tricky with teens. They're usually in the hospital a day or two longer, and on bed rest a while too, until they get their strength back. And, there's the risk of infection and always the chance of bleeding. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, no reason. I'm just wondering."

I could only think of two words to say to myself: "Now what?"

(To be continued...)