Back in 1969 my parents and family moved from an apartment in the city to a home in the suburbs. I was eight years old and going into second grade at a public school. I was scared to death! The teacher asked this one boy named Joe to hold my hand and spend the day with me. Needless to say Joe wasn't exactly enthused about this! Joe did as he was told until recess and then left me to fin for myself. We played kickball that day. Having been at a Catholic school in the city, I had never heard of kickball. Totally unfamiliar with the routine, I was one of the last persons to be picked for a team. Girls were picked before I was! There was another boy named Mike that was also one of the last to be picked. We wound up on the same team and while standing in the outfield got to be friends.

Years passed and my friendship with Mike grew. We spent all our spare time together drawing, listening to music, studying or any of a hundred other kid things. One summer, I had just turned thirteen and before Mike's thirteenth birthday, we decided to have a sleep over only this time we would rig up a tent out of blankets and sleep out in my backyard. We ate our dinner out there while the mosquitoes drank pints of our blood!

Back then I was into building models - model cars, model ships, model monsters... anything plastic that could be glued together and painted was great fun. Low on blood and avoiding the mosquitoes at all costs, Mike and I hung out in our basement for the remainder of the evening. He was drawing cartoons and I was building a model of the Saturn 5 rocket as I recall.

My mom yelled down from the top of the stairs, "Bed time boys. Brush your teeth and get ready for bed."

Mike and I went upstairs and brushed our teeth. My mom reminded, "Your father has work in the morning so please don't stay up all night talking. Our bedroom window is right by the backyard."

"Okay mom," I said.

"Are you ready for bed?" she asked.

"Yep, it's too hot for pajamas." I said.

The last thing I would ever do is tell my mom point blank that I preferred to sleep in my underwear. Being a restless sleeper, I often got tangled up in my own clothes. T-shirts were especially uncomfortable but loose pajama bottoms bordered hazardous!

My mom looked at Mike with questioning eyes and he said, "I rarely ever wear PJ's any more."

Grabbing the flashlight, I led Mike back downstairs and out the cellar door to our makeshift tent.

Now, in case you've never had this experience, there's a certain giddy feeling that overwhelms the average thirteen-year-old when he's crawling into a makeshift tent with his best friend. It's the feeling of independence I guess. We were outside, a good twenty or thirty feet from the back of the house so we were free to do pretty much as we pleased. Or so we thought! After only half an hour or so of us talking my mom yelled out the bedroom window, "SILENCE!"

DOH!

I turned out the flashlight and whispered to Mike, "We have to be really quiet. If my dad comes out here he'll make us sleep in the house and I'll be grounded for at least a week."

"Okay, but I'm really not tired." Mike said.

"Me neither." I admitted.

Mike asked, "Are you sleeping in your clothes?"

"I guess not," I replied and sat up to take my T-shirt off. Raising my arms to take the shirt off I accidentally knocked the clothespins that were holding the tent together loose and the tent crashed down on top of us! We were hysterical as we crawled out from under the blankets and tried to set the tent back up in the dark.

Moments later, while we were still struggling to set the tent up, my mom came outside looking like she might kill us both. "What's going on out here? It's after midnight!" My mom said angrily.

As scared as I was, through muffled laughter, I muttered "The tent fell down," and Mike leaned up against the tree, holding his belly and laughing his ass off. With evil glances from my mom, suddenly Mike and I had lost the humor in this situation. We both have mother with Italian heritage and knew that look in my mom's eyes all too well.

My mom helped us set up the tent again then warned; "If I have to come back out here I will not be held responsible for my actions!"

Momentarily defeated, we waited for my mom to go back in the house before taking our shorts and shirts off then crawled back into the tent.

"I'm still not tired, are you?" I asked in my softest whisper.

"Nope, wanna play some rummy?" Mike whispered.

Playing rummy always was one of the few things we could do quietly and it was sure to bore us to sleep. "Sure," I answered, "I think there's a deck of cards in the basement. I'll be right back." Crawling out of the tent, I tenderfooted it across the yard and down into the cellar. Now, where did I leave those cards, I asked myself. Not that it really mattered where I left them because my mom had likely moved them somewhere else.

My mom is an obsessive compulsive neatness fanatic. Even our unfinished basement, with cinder-block walls and a concrete floor, is not immune from her cleaning rampages. Often I wondered why it mattered to her that the basement was clean. My dad did home repairs down there at his work bench, my mom used the washer and dryer but most of the time it was just us kids down there.

My sister never played cards, I reasoned, so I began looking around but couldn't find them on any of the card tables. Shit! I whispered. They might be upstairs in my bedroom. I can't go up there though! There's one more place I can check in the basement - inside the wooden chest where my mom was likely to toss any toy or game she saw laying out. Unfortunately, I was building the Saturn 5 on the chest and there were various partially assembled pieces scattered all over the top of it. Rolling my eyes, shaking my head and grumbling I began carefully moving the model pieces off the chest onto the card tables.

"What's taking so long?" Mike asked from behind me. Startled, my heart leapt into my throat and I must've jumped because Mike giggled, "It's only me, man."

Blasting him with beam from the flashlight I complained, "Dammit! Don't do that! I thought you were my mom. I almost shit in my pants!"

"Heehee! Turn around and let me check for a load!"

Turning crimson red, I realized that my best friend had just asked to see my ass. Avoiding the topic, I said, "Very funny. Help me move this model out of the way, okay? I think my mom put the cards in there," and pointed at the chest.

Mike helped me move the remaining pieces of the model to the card tables. Ever so slowly I opened the chest, trying to avoid the rusty hinges making that annoying, loud squeak. Side by side, kneeling on the cool concrete floor, we emptied half the contents of the chest and finally found the deck of cards. Leaving the other various toys and games all over the floor and the chest still open, we went back outside to the tent.

As we walked I wished Mike hadn't said anything about me turning around so he could check my underwear. To the best of my knowledge I had started growing up way before all my classmates. At the beginning of sixth grade, the previous autumn, my voice had changed and during the course of the school year, hair had begun sprouting everywhere! Even more embarrassing was my total lack of dick control. I'd be sitting in class and for no reason at all, the damned thing would get hard! I was a shy boy in the first place and all these things just made me more self-conscious. Feeling that familiar tingling in my briefs, I knew that in seconds I'd be bulging. If Mike saw me with a hardon my life would be ruined. Worse was that I had no idea why my life would be ruined, it just seemed wrong for an unknown reason. A few steps from the tent I ran and dove head first inside and stayed there lying on my belly as Mike crawled in beside me.

"Jesus, that must've hurt." Mike said.

"Not a bit," I said calmly, even though it did hurt a little bit. It would've been far worse if he had seen the front of my briefs, I thought.

"Uh huh," Mike said with a crooked, disbelieving smirk. "Are you sure you're alright?" he asked.

"I'm fine," I said with a smile. Lying on the blanket, I started to shuffle the cards. Just to my right, Mike sat Indian style next to me. One of his legs was only inches from my face and I noticed his darkening leg hairs. Without moving my head I could see his trim, muscular thigh. Letting my gaze travel further, I could see one soft, hairless nut hanging between his legs. My throat got dry and I could no longer manage shuffling the deck properly. What was happening to me? I wondered as my heart raced and sweat began beading up on my forehead. I started to deal the cards.

Mike laughed, "Nice dealin' there man," as the cards flew into random spots on the blankets beneath us.

"Sorry," I said softly and picked up my cards.

Giggling insanely, Mike took a card from the deck and discarded one. I took a card from the top of the deck and discarded my lowest card. Back and forth we went for maybe three or for more rounds before Mike said, "Rummy!"

"You bastard, you always win the first the game." I complained.

"Heehee! It's easy when I can look down and see your whole hand!"

"Cheater!" I said loudly, but remained lying down because of the obvious reason.

"Why don't you sit up so I can't see into your hand?" Mike prodded.

Yeah, why don't I sit up and let my best friend of five years see my thirteen-year-old boner struggling to rip free of my briefs? I don't think so!

If only I knew why my dick had gotten hard maybe I might've been able to say something but I only knew the fundamentals of sex. Nothing was explained to me in detail by either of my parents. Sex was supposed to be with a girl, that much I knew. My father had warned me not to play with my dick, feeding my young brain all the lies about hairy palms and going blind. Not knowing any better and having no one else to talk with about sex, I believed him. Soon after that discussion with my father, my mother told me a little bit about intercourse. The man's penis is put in the woman's vagina and nine months later a baby is born, she explained. That's how I learned of sex and masturbation in the early nineteen-seventies - a few words of warning and a short but sweet explanation of intercourse - incomplete information and lies. Not a word was mentioned about ejaculation! Nothing was said about emotions or how two people fall in love! Sex was the dirtiest of taboo topics for the average American Catholic family.

All this time I lay there thinking and looking down, away from my friend, ashamed of myself for reasons I could not comprehend.

"Are you going to get up?" Mike asked while he shuffled the cards.

Frightened and confused, I replied, "I can't," in a soft quivering voice. The first tears rolled down my face.

He then said the most amazing thing. "Sure you can, my dick's hard too."

All the time we had been playing that first hand I hadn't looked at him. The last time I looked his way, my eyes wandered up his leg and settled on his crotch. Still unable to look up, I asked, "Really?"

Mike put the cards down and I felt him shifting around beside me then he said, "See for your self."

Slowly turning my head, I saw Mike's face. He had lay down right beside me, leaning on one arm. My gaze wandered down his trim body and I saw that he had lowered his briefs just a little to his thighs. His boyhood erection was magnificent. There was some hair around the base of his cock too but not as much as there was around mine. Finally seeing that I wasn't some kind of perverted freak of nature, I smiled and looked up at his face saying, "It's nice."

Mike smiled and softly said, "Thanks. Can I... ummm... could I see yours too?"

I blushed again and thought about it for a few seconds then asked, "You won't tell?"

"No man, I won't tell. No one will ever know about this, I promise."

In his face I saw the same uncertainty as was surely on my own and I knew he was telling the truth. Rolling over on my back, I watched my friend's face as I lowered my underwear, just slightly, as he had done, down around my thighs.

Still to this day, some twenty-six years later, I remember the look of awe on Mike's face as he softly said, "Wow! It's big!"

"It's not that big!" I chuckled, "Yours is just as big, just a little less hair."

Still leaning on his arm a few inches to my side, Mike looked down at me suspiciously, as if my words were a lie and I was mocking him. Finding nothing but sincerity in my face our eyes locked. Something I would never have imagined possible started to happen. It still sends a shiver down my spine.

Without moving his lips I heard Mike ask, "You really think my dick is nice?"

I nodded but didn't say a word, only thinking, "It's real nice. You're my best friend in the world. How could I think otherwise? Remember how we used to hold hands Mike?"

Mike nodded and reached for my hand. "I always liked having your hand in mine. It's even better now. I'd like to kiss you."

Silently I sent him the message; "I won't stop you."

Mike leaned down and pressed his closed lips against mine. Our eyes were open and we watched each other in the dimly lit tent. Feeling his lips part slightly, I copied him then felt his tongue brush over my lips. My eyes opened wide and my brain spun as if I had just spent the last few minutes on a merry-go-round! As he started to chuckle at my reaction, Mike pulled away and asked, "Can I touch your dick?"

"Sure, if I can touch yours." I replied.

Again, Mike looked deep into my eyes and I heard him say, "As if you really need to ask!" but his lips never moved.

Both of our hands moved simultaneously and carefully wrapped around the other's erection. Uncontrollably, our hips bucked and we sighed contentedly.

While we slowly stoked each other's cocks Mike asked, "Can you come?"

It was a weird question to me, as if he hadn't completed the sentence. Not knowing any better, I shifted closer to him.

"Not like that!" Mike giggled. "You know, cum? White stuff that shoots out of your cock when you jack off."

Thanks to my conservative parents, I had no idea what he was talking about. Cum was a foreign term as was jack off. Guys called other guys jack offs at school and I had said it my self but it had little meaning other than some kind of insult. I didn't know if I could cum or not. Those silent words that had passed between us obviously continued and I never needed to tell Mike how confused I was. He just started explaining it to me while slowly stroking my boner. That night he explained everything to me, including what a blowjob meant. It was more than my parents had done.

When he was done talking I asked him, "Can you cum?"

"A little bit. It doesn't really shoot, more like just oozes out, but it feels great." He answered proudly.

"Can I see?"

Again, Mike giggled, "Keep doing what your doing and you'll see."

Mike and I lay side by side, stroking each other's hard boy cocks, occasionally tickling each other's balls and watching very closely. Watching the eyes roll back in pleasure, watching goose pimples form and fade away, listening to each other gasp or moan or giggle. It all felt great but I was anxious to see this mysterious white stuff.

As if hearing my thoughts, Mike whispered, "Go faster." I stroked his cock faster. Falling back and releasing my cock, he breathlessly begged, "Faster and tighter." I did as he asked and my hand ached a little. Mike snaked one arm under me and pulled me close. I could feel his body tremble against mine and saw his muscles tightening. His eyes squinted and his face looked like he was in pain. I wondered if I was doing it wrong and hurting him but he kept repeating, "Yeah, oh yeah," then he groaned. Looking down at his cock, I saw the wondrous white fluid ooze out of his piss slit and over my hand. The experience was so intense and I was so thrilled! Not knowing any better I kept stroking his spent wiener until he pushed my hand away giggling, "Okay, that's enough! Oh Jeez! Stop!"

Smiling at him I asked, "Why is that enough?"

"It gets sensitive!" Mike said rather loudly.

"Shhh!"

After a minute or two Mike's breathing slowed then he sat up and asked, "Did you like that?"

"Hell yeah! You obviously did too!" I giggled.

Pushing me down by the shoulders, Mike said, "Now it's your turn."

Looking up at him while he got into position lying beside me, I watched him spit in his hand and take hold of my throbbing erection. Man, it felt so great, better than anything I had ever experienced. Still uncertain of what was going to happen, I asked, "How will I know when it's happening?"

Mike smiled insanely and his eyebrows bounced comically. "You'll know," he giggled.

Quietly I lay there, my arm wrapped around him while he stroked my boner, slowly at first, occasionally tickling my balls, then with increasing speed. Suddenly I couldn't control my body. My hips thrust up in the air, my breathing quickened and every muscle tightened. The soft flashlight beam seemed to intensify one thousand times just before I closed my eyes and started to spasm out of control. Something wet splashed on my belly! Breathing like I had just run a mile I looked up at Mike, barely able to focus on his smiling face. Looking down at my stomach I saw several small, white puddles. After I regained control of my breathing I said, "Guess I can cum, huh?"

Mike laughed loudly, covered his mouth to mute it and fell back on the blankets hysterical.

For the rest of the night we stayed awake talking. Jacking off wasn't a bad thing at all I learned. It was normal. All boys do it at some time or another. Another set of words that I had previously not understood was learned in the pre-dawn hours. I learned what it meant to be a fag. Enjoying sex with another boy meant that both Mike and I were queer. That was an upsetting revelation for me. Mike suspected it but wasn't sure until having sex with me. The remaining weeks of the summer we were practically inseparable. Every chance we got to sleep over and learn more about sex we did. In the process we learned more about each other and what it meant to be in love. Suddenly our other friends seemed far less important. We had to hide our love though. There were a lot of great times with Mike. There were a few sad times as well and tears were shed by both of us. Post story note from TheEggman
     Mike and I remained friends and got together frequently for the next five years, until we graduated high school. Then his path went in one direction and mine went in another. There are other stories I could tell about Mike and I. Maybe some day I'll write about those experiences. Maybe I already have in other supposedly fictitious works.


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