His Friends Are More Than Fond of Robin
By Kent Radcliffe
ENCOUNTERS
Chapter One:
Bus stop, wet day, she's there, I say: "Please share my umbrella."
Missy had been my best friend since middle school, and now that we were in tenth grade everybody at school thought we were a couple. And maybe we were, I don't know. She had all these vague stories of summer guys that she talked about long into the fall, but she sat close next to me on the school bus ride home every day, my sweatshirt rubbing against her sweater, about two-thirds of the way toward the back of the bus, far enough back to seem like the cool kids, but not so far back that we would smell like weed.
It was a rainy fall day, and we had gotten pretty damp before we'd gotten on the bus, and now Missy was in a bad mood, and I was just mellow and slightly asleep, and I wasn't really listening as Heath from the football team launched into his daily sex tirade for the benefit of the kids at the back of the bus--most of them guys from the vocational school who rode our bus but didn't even attend our school.
"Once she got sight of my massive dong, it was all over for her," Heath was telling the boys, and Missy rolled her eyes, and I tried to keep mine open because it wasn't the type of bus ride you'd risk falling asleep on. "It's not just that my dick is a full ten inches--it is--but it's also got the girth most girls won't ever see in a lifetime." He went on and on like this. I didn't care one way or another, but I did like that he used every synonym for penis and seldom repeated them, telling the gang about his superior cock, his longdick, his oversized johnson, his thick jimmy, Thor's hammer, on and on and on, growing in all of our minds until finally Missy turned around and said, `Heath, if your dick is really that big, why don't you just get it out and show all of us?"
There was a long silence, and then Missy said, `That's what I thought." And the vo-tech guys laughed their heads off, and Heath got a little mad and punched the back of the seat in front of him. And the rest of the bus ride would have been pretty silent if it wasn't raining so hard, pounding on the metal roof, making the driver's business-as-usual speed seem kind of dangerous. There was thunder and lightning, but not a word about the thick dingus resting uncontentedly in Heath's angry sweatpants.
And I got off the bus in that storm, the lone passenger disembarking at the end of the dirt road leading into the woods, and I didn't think much about school or about Missy or about unnaturally large cocks that night--just farm chores and dinner and homework and bedtime.
The next day at school Heath--who hadn't talked to me at all since like sixth grade--cornered me by my locker and asked why my girlfriend had to be such a bitch.
"She's not my girlfriend," I said. Or was she? "But she's also not a bitch. I mean she had a point, you're always talking about having a big dick, and probably it makes people feel curious and unsatisfied when they just have to take your word for it."
The big blonde Teutonic lug thought about that for a minute, dumbness making him seem more attractive than he actually was in that moment, and he said, "Really?"
I shrugged and said. "Maybe. I mean, I think everybody everywhere is a little curious about an extra large penis." And I headed off to class.
Later I realized I had probably set up Missy for an unwanted encounter with Heath's cock, and I would have warned her about it, but she had gone home early because her cat died. My mom would have just told me the cat died when I got home from school, but I guess Missy's family is just more sensitive than mine--she got dramatically called out of class, and then whisked away. So I rode the bus alone that afternoon, in silence, my headphones filled with Morrissey. But the whole bus was quiet, because it wasn't raining and Heath wasn't talking about his dick.
When I got off at my lonely bus stop, though, Heath got off with me, which wasn't supposed to happen and should have been stopped by the bus driver, but the bus drove away and I was left standing there where the paved county road met my little dirt road, with that high school Viking standing there looking at me, his tan sweatshirt stretched over a muscular frame that seemed bound to beat me, and his pale blue jeans barely holding back what I knew was a gigantic wang.
"Are you curious about seeing a big dick?" he asked, and at first I thought it was a joke, or some kind of threatening queer baiting, but his face was so sincere, and I was brought up so honest, and so I just said, "Yes."
We stepped into the woods, and his hands fumbled with his belt buckle, and the top button of his pants, and his zipper. Heath's heavy penis emerged from his jeans already fully erect, long and thick, curving upward toward me. I knew my mouth was hanging open as I looked up at his face, and to my surprise he didn't look proud or mean or mocking--he looked like he wanted my approval.
"It really is big," I told him. "It looks so beautiful. Or handsome, if that sounds better."
He slid his pants down, and we both stared at his dong, as if it was a surprise to both of us. After a moment he held my hand, and then closed my hand around his thickness. I instinctively began stroking it. I instinctively loved it.
He undid my khakis, and he slid off his sweatshirt. I don't know what we were thinking--we were just steps off the main road, and the fall leaves didn't provide that much cover, but we became naked, and we stroked each other.
"You should kiss it," he told me, and I got on my knees and kissed the dripping mushroom tip of his enormous dong, and it smelled lightly of sweat and athleticism and hope. His fingers were in my hair, and I became his cocksucker easily and without any sense of shame or worry that he would tell anyone who shouldn't know. He trained me silently on his preferred speed and depth by handling my head like a football. I held onto his bare ass loosely with my hands, his muscular cheeks flexing and relaxing as he began to pump. I hadn't known what sex would be like, but he was teaching me, and I found that I loved it and even felt good at it.
His semen didn't seem to come in spurts like mine did when I stroked at night--his cum poured out of him, filled my mouth, almost choking me as I struggled to swallow it all. He pulled his cock from my mouth and rubbed it all over my face as I looked up at him. He was my hero now and I loved him.
"You did a good job, Robin," he told me, as he began to get dressed. "I'm gonna need you from time to time this year. We are going to be good friends."
I don't remember how he got home--my bus stop was miles from his house. I don't remember how I got home either, but when I did I went straight to my room and became naked again, and I stroked my cock until I came, and I swallowed every drop.