With Greg drinking quite a lot of beer, he seemed even more intense than ever. He stood kidding with Herbie and he insulted Doug a few times, but he paid little attention to me except to quickly claim my shoes. I noticed his shoes were off as well. I looked at Doug, thinking he was the only one I hadn't watched lose to Greg.

Alfred and Herbie sat together on the stairs after Herbie casually strolled down the steps while we were playing. Alfred found it convenient to the beer tub and Herbie wanted to stay out of Greg's way since he was closest to being it.

"You're too easy, Martin. I still want to play awhile. You sit down for now. Tom, how about some pool? At least you give me some competition."

Tom acted surprised about Greg's choice. He moved right up to the table but he didn't look real pleased. George moved back a little further to hide the fact he was fully dressed. Tom got down to his undershorts after some lousy shooting and bad shot choices. He looked around for his replacement but Greg was still in charge.

"You gonna rack? I've been letting you off easy since we came back from Germany, Tom."

"You said it was going to be that ..."

"SH! SH! SH! We still like to play pool now don't we?"

"Yeah, sure."

Tom looked less than happy as he glanced around at us. Herbie and Alfie were already as exposed as he was or more so in Herbie's case, but they weren't at the table. Tom looked to be Greg's age and they were the same general size except Tom was far less defined. His hair was a light brown and his skin had a reddish tone but they were closely matched in everything I could see except pool.

When Tom dropped his underwear, the first thing I noticed was how white his ass was. He placed them on the pile of clothes he had been building. He stooped, looking apprehensively over the cushion towards Greg as he tossed the balls back on the table. When he stood back up, one of his hands had dropped down so he could hold it in front of what seemed to be a fair amount of equipment. Tom shifted from one leg to another and watched Greg survey the table.

"No! You can sit down for awhile. There are lots of guys with plenty of clothes for the taking. Don't bend over in front of Herbie."

"Up yours, shithead," Herbie said.

"In your dreams," Greg quipped. "Georgie, let's play pool."

George was handsome but not in a manly way. There was something feminine about him and I couldn't figure out what it was. Perhaps it was the way he moved or the sound of his soft voice, which lacked any bass-tone. I had never before been a keen observer of people. I pretty much didn't look at anyone too closely up until then. Of all of the guys who were there George seemed most suited to the game Greg played. He politely removed his clothing without emotion or any sign of discomfort or hesitation.

George was about the same height as Doug and I. His skin was pale. It wasn't the milky white of Herbie's, seeming to lack color rather than being colored white. He was a fairly good size boy and yet he was thin and undefined. The California sun bleach blond hair was all that he had cultivated so far. He was obviously Greg's age and yet his body was more like Doug's. He wasn't unattractive even once he was naked and when his underwear hit the floor, his cock did a slow rise until it stood straight up and out at a forty-five degree angle. Greg stood there looking at him for a minute until the erection was complete before waving him away.

Of all the boys there, George was the only one who didn't have a tough exterior that could be used to deflect Greg's insults and derision. I still hadn't figured out what the attraction was for these guys? I knew what it was for me, and if I didn't sense something more behind those cold and calculating eyes I wouldn't have given Greg the time of day. If I worked it right I was going to find the missing piece of the puzzle.

Most of these guys looked like the All-American boy, well, except for Herbie, and I still wasn't sure about him. The rest of the boys were fresh scrubbed with tightly cut hair and neat, clean clothing. Even their jeans looked pressed. Greg and Doug wore the only jeans that had been suitably faded. The rest were far too blue to be acceptable for most high school kids.

What were they doing down here waiting for other guys to get naked? I had no sexual experience Greg hadn't given me, and I wanted more, and that's what I was doing there, but what were these guys doing down here? What was it about a dark dank basement that had a half a dozen guys standing around expectantly? Why were they ready to expose themselves and risk being exposed?

"Martin, we have unfinished business."

Greg examined me closely before mentioning my name. His eyes made regular trips around the basement.

I was quickly out of my socks and shirt. I took some precautions for the event, wearing an extra-long T-shirt to hide what I was sure would be my hard cock. I'd also kept my jock on after gym class and figured that would last me an extra turn. Once the T-shirt was gone they would see that I was excited by the game as well as the prospects that I might be furthering my sex education.

I'd never been soft since getting down in the basement and it worried me everyone would somehow know how much more I was turned on by the game and their nudity. Every time I looked over toward the stairs and the stack of papers where I'd watched Greg masturbating, my stomach would tighten and my insides would churn. With so many guys around what were the chances of me having any time alone with him? But if I lost the same boys would be my consolation, and I wasn't all that sure I didn't want to lose.

George had gotten up and walked behind Greg and was talking to Doug as he stood next to my chair. His cock still stood out of his sparse blond pubes. He didn't seem to mind that everyone could see his hard cock, and Doug was his usual friendly self. I could never be that casual in front of so many guys.

"Pants, T-shirt, what will it be. Take your choice, take your time, take something off, Martin."

"Huh," I said, looking away from George's presents.

"You lose," Greg said. "You've got to learn to concentrate, Martin. Keep your mind on the table. Plan your shots."

"Yeah. Okay."

I counted five balls I still had on the table. I pulled off my pants and let my T-shirt fall almost to my knees. Greg shook his head and turned his back while I racked. My mouth was getting dry and I didn't know how I would handle handling an endless supply of cock. The thought both thrilled and frightened me but the pulsing in my underpants told me the fear wasn't about the other boys.

George came closer to the table as I pulled off my T-shirt after sinking the eight ball on my first shot. I didn't do it intentionally; at least I don't think I did. His eyes kept dropping down to where I was bulging out.

Alfred came over to the table with Herbie following close behind, minus his boner. I was sure I was about to know what it was like being it. The thought that all of these guys had been it at one time or another didn't help my level of disorientation. It was becoming difficult for me to breathe and the room seemed to be closing in on me, but it was only the other boys getting a better view.

After twenty or thirty plus games, Greg was still only minus his shoes and a single sock, and he lost the sock when he put the eight ball in on one of his infrequent bad shots.

Greg thoughtfully measured the way I racked the balls. He checked out my narrow chest and skinny legs. Everyone watched him preparing for the kill. No one said anything now. Tom got up to lean on the pole closest to the table and his ruddy red cock had started to rise up out of his rusty brown pubes. Everyone seemed ready to close in for the kill, save Doug, who leaned back in the folding chair.

"No, I don't want you, Martin. Georgie, Georgie, you look so anxious and out standing there with your pecker poking out. You've never been so ready before. You been using fertilizer on that thing or are you just hornier than usual? Let's see, two games and you'll be... aren't I correct? You can give that thing something to strain about. Soft hands are so much nicer than rough hands don't you think?"

"I guess. I've been locked up on the base for two weeks."

As provocative as his words could have been I couldn't read anything into them. George was there and he'd go along with however the game turned out. He didn't seem worried.

"You should be fun then, huh? All that pent up energy you seem to have down there. You can break if you like. Just don't use that or you'll crush the cue ball for sure."

George looked at Greg oddly as I took his place beside Doug, hoping for invisibility. I was relieved but not convinced this was the final act. Greg didn't sound convincing and George seemed way too easy. I had the feeling that Greg didn't get too much enjoyment out of easy.

"Dude, what have you got in there?", Doug asked, "You look like you have your spare socks on under your underwear. That's weird, Martin."

"My jock," I said.

"Your jock," Doug laughed. "Your jock? You expecting a rough game or what? Your jock! What else is in there?"

Doug knew by the look on my face exactly what it was. His eyes told me he no longer wanted the answer. Until then I didn't know how obvious it was to everyone else. I started to blush.

"I'm still not sure what to expect. I just wore my jock, that's all."

Doug leaned over to whisper in my ear after the break.

"This is when it gets interesting. Greg will get the one he's after in the end. George isn't sure it won't be him. Usually Greg goes for a new guy. With my brother you never know for sure."

"George doesn't play much?" I asked.

"His father's a general. He was away on TDY for awhile. He used to stay over every weekend when we first came. Greg and him were best friends until we moved and Greg changed schools. They ran around together in Germany the last few months."

"All these guys were in Germany?"

"Alfred and you weren't. Yeah, most of the guys that came tonight were over there with us. It runs in cycles. When duty stations change we usually end up with quite a few people from the last station."

"You think it will be him?"

"I'm still betting on you or Alfred. You better make sure you want the pool cue when he asks the next time. Even with the jock you got about five minutes at most. You can still leave, Martin. The only reason I stayed down was to help you out, but I can't help you now and he never picks me anymore."

I was surprised to see George's dick turning red as they played. There was something exciting him and looking at him made me feel like my mouth was full of cotton. It pulsed up and down as he leaned on his cue watching Greg shoot.

"You're ready to bogey," Greg said, looking him over carefully after putting the first loss on him.

"You always stand back in the corner, Tommy. You'd think you didn't like my dick any more. You used to give the best hand jobs over there. Come on, let's see what you got. George has shown us what he can do."

Tommy pushed himself away from the pole. His dick died, going from half-hard to almost completely soft in a minute. George slipped him the cue, and Tom shrugged, giving George a meek smile as though he was ready to accept his fate.

Tom looked pretty good until he sunk the eight ball on his third shot. He bent badly and dropped his pool cue on the table in exasperation. His face had a pleading look on it as he stared up at Greg's face.

"Come on, Greg. You never pick me anymore. I'm no fun at all. These guys all know me. You don't want me. Please!"

"You're right," Greg said.

Looking at Doug, "Brother of mine, your turn, you've been running your mouth all night."

Doug leaned away from me cautiously saying, "Maybe I was wrong. He's never played it like this before. Oh well, not like I ain't seen it all."

When Doug got up I felt really alone. I was on one side of the table and everyone else was on the other side. It's like I felt a lot. I really didn't have anything in common with any of them. I was there for only one reason and I wasn't sure why they were there. I was always worried that people would know what I was thinking. Did they all know I wanted to be it so I could see what it was like touching them? I wanted to be there because I wanted to find out about other boys.

Doug was thin, but his body had a nice shape. He looked like Greg probably looked a year or two before. I was sure there were no more than two years between them. Doug looked a bit angry when Greg won his under shorts.

Doug had little hair, but his cock hung further down than almost anyone except Herbie. Like the rest of him, it was smooth, appealing, and cut with exacting care. He showed us his good looking smile before bowing to shoot us the moon. I didn't miss anything and Tom moved to get a closer look.

Everyone chuckled at Doug's antics, and Greg didn't seem to know how to handle Doug when he promptly took the second sock and Greg's shirt. When Greg peeled off the tight T-shirt, his tan chest dominated his body.

Greg was a bit peeved at how easily Doug took his over-exposure and winning two straight games didn't help any. There was no sign of excitement or expectation that I could see on either of them. Doug hadn't quite lost his boyish charm but he had definitely crossed over into adolescents in a big way. I thought Doug was definitely the best looking and least mature. Greg was the closest to manhood.

"You know if you come down here to play you're going to pay one day, little brother. Go wave your weenie at Martin. I don't want to see that skinny thing."

Greg's words weren't masked in anything for a change. He stated a fact but it wasn't a threat. He waved his hand after putting one more loss on Doug.

"The moment of truth is approaching."

Doug leaned back in his chair as he spoke the words. His hairless balls touched the chair between his wide spread legs.

As I took my survey of the wonderful boy next to me I lost my place, but Greg hadn't lost his. He turned and looked directly at me. I swallowed hard and started to get up. "Alfred, we've been playing pool for a long time. Let's see if you are man enough to go for it all. You don't mind one-on-one and this is just a few more of my closest friends. What do you say?"

"I'm drunk," Alfred said and his eyes fell directly on me as his face turned an odd shade of red. I expected him to collect his pants and leave.

"Exactly, you'll never remember anything you did tonight by tomorrow morning."

"I could win," Alfred said without believing in it.

"Yes, you could," Greg assured him.

"I know Martin," Alfred said, careful not to look at me this time. "If it wasn't for that. I mean I'm drunk enough but...."

"We all know each other, Alfie. We're all friends. Everyone loses at least once, right guys? You want to keep coming up, don't you?"

Greg broke and two high balls and a low ball went in. He had two balls left to sink when Alfred got his first shot. With only his underwear for cover there would only be three games. It seemed odd that his underwear picked this time for it to start tenting out.

Tom's dick had also hardened for good this time and both his and George's seemed to be charged with excitement as they watched. Herbie sat alone on the stairs unconcerned and I couldn't see what condition his was in.

"Come on. I don't want any part of this," Doug said. "You don't want to see your friend do this do you?"

We went over and sat by Herbie as Alfie's underwear was falling. He was surprisingly hairy and as small as he was, his dick was as good as anyone's. It did not lack for excitement and it was poker straight, swinging from side to side as he played.

Alfred sunk the eight ball on his third shot after Greg broke with no success. He was down to his last game and Tom had moved up to the corner of the table.

"I got to get out of here soon," he announced, mostly to Greg.

"Okay, you can take my place, Tom, but remember it for later."

"Yeah, sure Greg, thanks. I just haven't done anything all week. You know how it is. I don't want to go home hard up."

When Greg made his eight ball shot in the next game, he stopped while he was still leaning over the table. He made eye contact with Alfred and then reached up and pulled the cord that eliminated all the light around the table. With the light on at the top of the stairs you could only see shadows in the basement.

I knew that Tom was already standing beside Alfred and I could see the movement that indicate Alfred was in the process of fulfilling his obligations to the game.

"Not so rough," Tom said. "A little faster though."

It got silent as my eyes adjusted to the limited light. The only noise was some heavy breathing and a sound reminiscent of when I lay in bed late at night and thought about Greg while satisfying myself.

Greg stood across the table from them and George had moved up to the corner where Tom had stood in waiting.

"You staying all night Alfred?" Greg asked.

"I told you I would. I'm too drunk to go home. The old man would wail the tar outta me."

"Good enough. We can take care of business later on."

Tom's knees started to bend and he put one hand out to lean against the table for the grand finale. The sounds they were making grew louder as no one else interrupted the payoff. I was feeling a bit warm pressed against Doug on the steps with Herbie leaning back against my knees.

"Let's go up and watch some tube," Doug said, standing up so that the light shinned on him as he faced me. I couldn't help but take one more complete look at his body. He smiled and put his hand on my shoulder before he went up the steps.

"You coming, Herbie?"

"No, not right now, Boo Boo. I'll hang here for a few minutes just to see how it all comes out."

Herbie's voice was strained and he stood and started into the shadows toward the pool table. I caught sight of the erection that now stood out in front of him.

"How about you, Martin. He's your friend."

"Yeah, I'm coming."

I wanted my pants but I figured I wasn't going back in there after them just then. It was obvious they'd be busy for awhile and spending time with Doug wasn't my idea of punishment. He didn't bother to dress and it didn't bother me any. When I followed him into the television room, Timmy was face down on the couch with a pillow over his head. He snored lightly and Doug turned on the television and turned off the light.

"Why does he stay all alone?" I asked.

"I told you. He did some shit and he's still embarrassed about it."

"What the hell are those guys down there doing?" I said.

"Martin, you don't understand. You can only go so far and it's the same as what everyone else does. You cross a line and you get labeled. He crossed the line and everyone knows it."

"You don't believe that shit. Tell me you don't believe that. He's just another kid."

"Of course I don't, but I'm not the one giving him a hard time, now am I."

"So Mr. I-got-to-be-first-getting-my-dick-whacked-off is okay but Timmy isn't. Is that how it is?"

"The queerest queer isn't always the one they call queer, Martin. Tom plays by the rules. Tim did more than he was required to do."

"What's the difference between doing it to a guy and having it done by a guy? I don't see the difference. Isn't it about the same thing? You're either having sex or you aren't."

"You need to be finding that one out on your own. I'm not Mr. Wizard. I know what I know and that's all I know. I try not to make stuff up if I can avoid it. I really don't like talking about it. It can only be getting me into trouble and you too. You ask way too many questions not to get someone wondering."

We watched an episode of Outer Limits on what was billed as Outer Limits Night All Night.

"That was awesome. You believe in aliens?"

"I suppose. I don't disbelieve," I said.

"Someone came up. You want a beer before they start up again?"

"Yeah, they going to come in here?" I asked.

"No, not while guys are still hanging around. Herbie will. Greg crashes upstairs. He has an arrangement with Alfred tonight. I'll sleep down here. You can use my bed upstairs or sleep in the chair. Suit yourself."

"They have an arrangement?"

"I heard them talking. If Alfred lost he was staying over with Greg all night."

"What if Greg lost?"

"They didn't mention that."

"So Alfred was always the one?" I said as though I'd just become enlightened.

"Yeah, he was. I think he knew it."

"Why didn't you tell me so I wasn't sweating the whole time?"

"There are some things you don't do, my man. That's one of them. I may not be smart but I'm not stupid. I still got to live with him when all you dudes split."


Send Rick an email at quillswritersrealm@yahoo.com

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"Discovering Love" Copyright © 1 September 1997 OLYMPIA50. All rights reserved.
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