While taking the long way home after school, on the nicest day of the spring so far, I ran into Glenn, or he almost ran into me. It was what I'd been waiting for.

I was about to learn more about Glenn and it didn't do anything to dispel the idea Glenn could be crazy.

After nearly destroyed his bike, his brother's bike, and coming close to breaking his neck, Glenn was ready to talk.

We walked together with what was left of the bike. It was how our first in-depth conversation began.

I took the things he told me with a grain of salt. I'd seen him wrestling with Eddie in the showers. What Glenn described was hardly more provocative than what I'd seen, except I had difficulty picturing what he told me.

It did give me an opportunity to ask questions.

"What about your parents??" I asked, picturing them walking in on Glenn and Eddie frolicking as naked as Jaybirds.

"They might wrestle but they don't let me watch."

"You aren't afraid they'll walk in. What about your brother? You and Eddie are naked. What would they think?"

"My parents come home about seven. We wrap it up by six and Eddie goes home to eat before then. My brother knows all about me. He's not likely to get in the middle of anything I'm doing."

"You say you don't have any friends," I said, exploring something he'd said. "It seems to me you'd need to be friends to... to...."

"Jerk-off together? No, not really. You think I'm too bold? I just want to have fun, Gordo. Don't you want to have fun?" he asked with a touch of mischief in his voice and an evil grin that went with it. "We'll be adults soon enough, Gordo. Then we'll be responsible for our own lives. I want to have fun until I'm forced to grow up."

"Do you have a death wish?" I asked. "If you want to have fun, why do things that might cripple you or worse? You could break your neck."

"You think so? I didn't hurt my face did I. I'm still pretty, aren't I?" he said, feeling the side of his face. "Ouch! Got my face too, huh? I need a mirror. You got a mirror?"

"A little," I said, reaching to look under his light brown tuft of hair that hung down on his forehead.

"A small scrape," I said. "It'll heal."

"Ouch," he said, flinching. "You busy right now?"

"I was going home to do my homework. I was taking the long way around to avoid doing my homework. No, I'm not busy."

"Good. You can come home with me and apply the alcohol. I'll quit too soon. I don't like pain. I'll get infected and lose my arms and legs if you don't help me, Gordo."

"I can do that," I said, wanting to see where he lived.

"Why did you tell me about you and Eddie doing that?"

"You mean get each other off? You've seen everything but the shooting. If you ask Eddie, he'll tell you. He's fairly open about what he feels."

"And what about Bonnie?" I asked.

"I don't know how open she is but I don't think Eddie would tell her that we got each other off."

"You didn't mention that you got off," I said. "When did that happen?"

"It was a sympathy orgasm. When he did, I did. I wasn't that turned on until he was. I wasn't ready for him to jump on top of me. When he did, I went with the flow."

"That doesn't sound that farfetched."

"Do you mind coming home with me? No wrestling. I really truly need your help, Gordo. What are friends for? Right! I'll forever be in your debt."

"No, I wouldn't like you without arms and legs," I said.

He rolled the bike on the back wheel, keeping the front wheel off the ground. I walked beside him with my books and his shirt in hand. I waited for a chance to smell his shirt.

We walked to Old Highway and half a mile up to the path that took us through the woods until it came out on the street where Eddie lived.

Glenn took the bike into the garage once we reached his house. He came back to lead me up the back steps onto the back porch. We went through the kitchen and the dining room. We turned right down the hall off the dining room.

The bathroom was down the hall on the left. The house was bright and neat. I stood in the doorway of the bathroom while Glenn got the alcohol and cotton balls out of the medicine cabinet.

I was still holding his shirt and he stripped out of the dirty undershirt, dropping it on the floor. My heart began to do a dance inside my chest. His smell intoxicated me.

"If I'm going to apply the alcohol to your wounds, I'll need a place to put my books," I said.

"Just drop them on the floor. It's where I keep mine."

I put my books next to the tub and I let his shirt drop on top. Glenn watched what I did.

"You lift weights?" I asked, having the urge to touch his chest. He was exceptionally well defined for a teenager.

"Gymnastics," he said. "I was a gymnast in Germany. We were there for close to three years before my father was assigned to this duty station. That's where I developed my daredevil gene. Germany. That's where I learned about the joys of nude wrestling."

"You don't do gymnastics anymore?"

"I broke my arm. By the time it healed, I was too big for most gymnastic disciplines. I never competed again."

"You broke your arm? Why am I not surprised?"

"Twice," he said.

"You broke your arm twice?"

"No, one a piece. When I was ten and we lived in California, everyone had a skateboard. There were these steps the boys liked to go down. One day I was going down them and i didn't quite make it."

"What happened?"

"I broke my arm. I was doing fine but the very tip of the skateboard clipped the bottom step. I took a tumble. That's when I broke my right arm," Glenn said.

"What happened when you broke the other arm?" I asked.

"Doing a gymnastic routine, I missed my mark. Broke the arm in three places. Fell on it. The rings were my discipline," he said. "I always wanted to be the best."

"You were once disciplined? You could have fooled me."

He laughed and he had a pleasant smile. We were close enough for me to feel the heat from his body.

"I had a regular routine. It required a lot of strength and excellent timing. One day when I somersaulted in mid air, trying to make it my best rings performance ever, I let go of the rings a split second too late. As I twisted and turned in the air, I realized the rings were going to reach the spot where I'd grab them a little before I got there."

"What did you do?" I asked, picturing it in my mind.

"Thinking the rings wouldn't be there when I got there was a bad sign. You see, I never thought while performing on the rings. It was all spontaneous. I shouldn't have been thinking, I should have been executing the routine. While that was occurring to me, the rings were at that instant swinging out of my reach. I missed them and I fell on my left arm, breaking it in three places."

"Wow!" I said. "You do live a daring life."

"You don't know the half of it. There's a lot you don't know, but we've never talked to each other before, except when I was naked. It's difficult to find something clever to say when you're naked and the guy you're talking to isn't, don't you think?"

I was close enough to get a good whiff of his fragrance. A mixture of sweat, musk, and pure Glenn was enough to make me dizzy. Being that close to him made me want to get closer.

There was more to Glenn than a quick lip and a nice body. Uncovering the real Glenn would take some time. Pressing against me, he placed the alcohol and cotton balls on the back of the toilet.

He turned to face me again and his body brushed against me. It was a small bathroom.

"Maybe sit on the toilet lid. I want to get as much blood in the sink as we can. Leaving evidence around for my mother to discover never turns out well. She'll haul my ass off to the emergency room again."

I did as instructed, taking the cap off the alcohol and liberating a few cotton balls from the box.

"We'll work from the outside in. My elbow is easiest to reach. When I told it over the sink, pour. Then use a cotton ball to get whatever's in there out. My hand stings like hell, which can't be good."

"It's your jack off hand?" I asked.

"Oh, ho! Score one for the nice boy. I'm ambidextrous actually. When you spend as much time beating your meat as I do, you need to switch hands if you want to get a satisfactory outcome." He held his arm over the sink and I poured alcohol over his elbow. I held his wrist tightly enough to keep him from recoiling and making a mess on the floor. He pulled back as soon as the cold alcohol hit the open wound.

Once he felt my grip on his wrist, he pulled hard enough for me to feel the resistance but not hard enough to jerk his arm out of reach.

Once I'd covered the wound in alcohol, I used a cotton ball to wipe it gently to get any sand or dirt out. It looked fairly clean when I was done.

"Does that feel better?" I asked.

As he looked at the elbow to appraise my handiwork, I poured alcohol on the hand right below where I held his wrist. I held tightly in case he tried to jerk away.

It took him a few seconds to realize his hand was under assault from the alcohol I was pouring into the wound. By the time he reacted, I'd finished with the alcohol bath.

I felt a bit queasy myself. I didn't like the idea I was causing Glenn pain, all the time knowing it had to be done.

For an instant his resistance increased somewhat, stopping once I'd finished pouring the alcohol.

"Good show, Watson. Distract the injured party and zap him with the alcohol before he knows what you're doing. Bloody good show. You've done this before, Watson?"

"No! You're my first patient. I'm doing the only thing I can do for you. You'll be sore tonight but if you put alcohol on the wounds twice a day, you'll heal in a few days. At least enough to where the pain won't be a factor."

As I went back to cleaning the wound with a cotton ball, he managed to stop trying to pull away while I worked on the wound.

"You know if you don't come over to treat my wounds, I'll never go it. I think I mentioned, I don't do well with pain," he said.

"I'd suggest, if you don't like pain, quit trying to kill yourself. It's bound to be painful."

"You think so?" he said.

I let up on my attempt to get all the grit out. It had to hurt. The hand was the worst of the damage. It was a bit deeper and there were still particles in the wound that needed to come out. I was beginning to sweat and I took a break to regroup.

"You're done I hope," he said.

"Mostly. Another few seconds and I'll have it clean."

When I went back to using a cotton ball to wipe the particles out of his hand, he bit his lip and his muscles tensed as he endured the worst of the pain.

I'm sure he was cursing the idea of jumping the gap.

He wouldn't try to pull away this time. The way he watched me, he was calculating that yanking his hand away would prolong the pain. It had to be done. Once he relaxed, I loosened my grip on his wrist without letting go.

In a few more seconds the deed was done and Glenn exhaled, bending at the waist and moving one foot off the floor and then the other.

I tossed the used cotton balls in the sink. Glenn didn't say anything. He looked at his hand once I released my grip on his wrist. His face had gone pale.

"Holy Grey Poupon, Batman, that stings!" He said loudly. "Let's get it done before I faint." "It's as good as I can do. It looks clean to me," I said. "Because it's in such a bad place, it's going to hurt every time you use your hand."

"So much for jacking off once you leave," Glenn said. "Do you think I'll ever play the violin again?"

Playing along, the answer was obvious.

"No! I don't think you'll be playing the violin again. You should leave it get some air when you go to bed tonight, but I'd keep a piece of tape on it to keep it from getting dirty otherwise. Don't jack off with that hand for the rest of the week."

"I have some flesh colored tape in my bedroom. It's for emergencies and it hides an injury from prying eyes. My mother knows when I've damaged myself. The tape is to make it less obvious," Glenn said.

"It'll sting when you pull it off your hand to put alcohol on it," I said..

"You telling me," he said. "I shouldn't have put my arm down to break my fall but it seemed like a better idea than sliding down the hill on my face."

I laughed, reaching up to see the scrape on his forehead. I used a cotton ball on the abrasion. I got it clean before I stopped. I could feel Glenn's muscles tensing but he didn't resist.

"Sit down and you can do my side next."

Sitting on the toilet lid put me in a good position to reach the scrape on his left side. The shirts had saved him from serious damage but the abrasion covered a wide area. I doused a cotton ball and wiped the scrape clean. He stood facing the wall and said nothing. The only deep wound left was on his knee.

The angle I got was of a boy with a fine chest and small waist. As he looked at the wall, I put alcohol on his side.

I'd seen him naked in the showers but I was wasn't fast enough to move to a shower closer to the action. What I'd been most interested in that day was the proximity of Glenn's dick to Eddie's butt.

When he let me dry his back off after the shower scene, I was too close to get much perspective on his body. My heart shifted into high gear no matter where Glenn was when I saw him. At first I thought he could hear it being so close in that small bathroom.

He said nothing.

In the bathroom we couldn't get far from each other. "I think that should hold you for the time being. We need to take a look at your knee. That was bleeding more than the other places," I said.

I turned to discard the used cotton balls and I wet a few more over the sink.

I heard him unfasten his belt and unzipping his jeans and dropping them to the floor.

When I turned back to him, his jeans were on the floor and he was pushing his lime green boxers off his hips. They went on top of the jeans which were on top of his sneakers.

He began trying to look at his butt cheek, pushing his hips toward my face as he tried to see the damage. There wasn't a doubt this was the most provocative situation I'd found myself in. I moved back when his dick pressed against the side of my face. Speaking of extreme closeups.

"Oh, sorry about that. It's difficult to keep it under control in confined spaces," he said, turning back to me. "My butt started to burn on the way over here. It's going to need some attention."

He turned so the left side of his butt was close to my face. He was perfectly proportioned. His butt was tight and well rounded. My mouth went dry when his dick brushed against my face. My heart was tap dancing in my chest.

"Yes, it needs some alcohol. The scrapes under your clothes aren't as bad as where your bare flesh slid on the ground," I managed to say without reacting to the proximity of his dick to my lips.

"Tell my knee that," he said, looking at his knee.

"You ripped your jeans and the knee slid on the gravel," I said, believing my facts.

"I didn't realize this was going to be such a job," he said. "Glad you came home with me."

"Me too," I said, biting my tongue.

"You liken inflicting pain on the bold boy?" he asked.

"No, not at all. I don't like doing homework. This is a good reason to put it off," I said.

"Oh," he said.

"Your butt isn't bad but it's in a bad place," I said.

"You telling me. I like to sit down when I eat."

"OK, Let's do that knee," I said, discarding a cotton ball and getting more ready.

When I turned around his dick was against my face.

"Ops! Hard to keep it out of the way. Has a mind of it's own. Sorry about that."

I kept my attention on the knee. I was almost done with his ass cheek and that would only leave the knee.

"That stings," he said, moving like he was dealing with serious pain.

"You're a mess, Glenn."

"Tell me about it," he said, making no effort to pull away.

It was getting rather close in that bathroom. I finished applying the alcohol to that spot and I prepared several more cotton balls for a nasty looking knee. This was going to hurt.

I swallowed hard and went about my business, only glancing a few times at the exciting aspect of nursing him.

"There. I think it's clean. I got enough alcohol on it to help it heal. Any place else hurt?"

"Yes, but like the bet with the curious boys in the gravel pit, it's best not to share it with the nice boy. I admit it. I've got a dirty mind."

"I'm a nice boy?" I asked.

He laughed.

"You're trying hard to stay one, Gordon. You helped me when I needed help. It was very nice of you. Now, one favor."

"Shoot," I said.

"Oh, you really are getting close to the problem. Can you pick up in here. Make sure no evidence of the medical treatment you've just finished giving me. I'll get rid of the clothes and I'll be ready when mother comes home."

"Sure," I said.

He stopped out the door and he turned around.

"It's OK to like what you like, Gordo. Never apologies for being you. You're OK in my book," he said with a wily smile. "It's in the eyes. You want to know what's on someone mind, you watch his eyes."

Now he tells me. I couldn't see his eyes when I was face to face with his dick but he could see mine.

I'd had an erection since shortly after we arrive in the bathroom. He could tell by that what I was thinking about. What I wanted wasn't something I could put my finger on, but Glenn was at the center of what was on my mind.

I'd made some headway in finding out more about him, but he was still mostly a mystery.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

Once I was done putting alcohol on all of Glenn's wounds, he went to get dressed, I cleaned up the sink and put the alcohol and cotton balls back where he'd gotten them. I picked up his shirts inhaling deeply as I held it against my nose. I was intoxicated all over again.

His fragrance filled my mind.

The bathroom became cooler with only me there. I held his shirts ready to hand to him when he returned. I acted as if I hadn't considered taking his shirt home with me. It now figured into my continuing fantasy about Glenn.

If I took the torn shirt, I'd need to leave before he came back to the bathroom, but if I left now, I'd miss the next act in the drama at Glenn's house. I didn't want to miss anything.

While waiting, I became aware of soft strands of music drifting through the house. Had Glenn turned on the radio? Was someone else in the house?

With the bathroom door closed, I was isolated in that small space.

I wanted to hear the music more clearly. It picked up in tempo and volume. At first I couldn't identify where it was coming from. I opened the door of the bathroom. The music became louder.

I moved down the hallway. Walking toward the back of the house where the music was coming from. It was a single violin. I knew live music when I heard it and this was no recording.

There was no other sound. A single violin growing louder until I reached the final door at the end of the hall. The music was coming from behind the door.

The door wasn't opened wide enough for me to see inside. I hesitated. I wasn't sure I should open the door. I wanted to see who was creating such an enchanting sound, but if I interrupted the musician, he might stop playing.

I didn't want the music to stop. I wanted to watch the music being played.

I wanted to see who it was.

Remembering a remark Glenn made, something about playing the violin. I'd written it off as one more attempt at braggadocio. Now I wasn't so sure.

Did Glenn play the violin? Who else could it be?

Would I find Glenn on the other side of the door?

As the music filled my ears, I had to see who the musician was.


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