There was a loud `boom' as Coach barged through the doors of the weight room. We had all suited up in our uniforms, and had been bullshitting and messing around more than usual as we sat there on the wresting mat, trying to get our minds off of the pre-game jitters.
The room went dead quiet as all eyes turned to Coach. As he made his way over to us, he was flipping through the pages on his clipboard the same way a doctor would look at your medical chart, shaking his head like he had some really bad news. And like any good doctor would do, he just let you sit there and squirm a little as you thought the worst.
He stopped briefly before us, and then proceeded to pace back and forth a few times collecting his thoughts.
Finally he came to a stop, and looked across the room at us.
"Gentlemen, approximately 30 minutes from now we will be engaged in battle.
I have a number of topics to cover tonight, but before I get into recapping the game plan and our strategies, I would like to quickly note a few observations, expectations and constructive criticisms." He started.
To anyone else that opening statement may have seemed pretty mild. But I knew better. Coach's observations were carefully aimed bullets, and you never knew when you'd be taking one.
He glanced over at Eric first.
"Mr. Reynolds," He started in a thundering voice, "It is my fond belief that the shared characteristics between your namesake and aluminum foil will end tonight when you prove to us all that you no longer exhibit a mutual propensity to crumble under pressure.
"I am starting you in this game tonight for one reason only: I fully expect your budding defensive-back cocoon to burst open at precisely the right moment, and dazzle us all with a metamorphosis so unexpected and awesome, that Charles Darwin himself will rise from the dead and re-write the Origin of Species.
Coach wiped his forehead with his sleeve before continuing.
"Are you following my line of thinking?" He asked.
"Yes Sir, you're asking me to evolve." Eric said, looking down at the wresting mat as he tried to mute a smile.
"Thank you Mr. Reynolds. And we both know what I expect that evolution to produce. Don't watch the ball. Watch the eyes of the receiver, and`sense' the ball at your back as you shadow his every move. If you have any doubt as to when to throw your arms up to deflect a pass - pay attention to your ass - a good line-backer's butt will always know to pucker when the ball is close. If you get it right once, it could be the difference between winning and losing this game."
Eric nodded his head.
OK, so every guy on the team had to be thinking the same thing - how did Coach know about the `pucker' thing?
"Mr. Kline, your passing accuracy has improved greatly. All of us here this evening are aware of the fact that you could knock a tick off a totem pole at forty yards on a windy day. The bad news is that you've had more dropped balls on the practice field than a ninety-year-old ass has cracks.
Lighten up on the bullets, and make `em catch-able. Are you with me on that?"
"Got it, Coach." He replied.
Coach glanced quickly over at me, then back at his clipboard.
`Please God, no.' I said to myself.
"Mr. Andrews. Catching the ball is only half of the battle. Do not stand there and congratulate yourself every time you make a fine catch, or else you will find yourself with enough Trojan cleat marks on your face to sift flour. You have less than one second to react once the ball finds your numbers. Know where the defenders are, use your head, and for God's sake run.
"Run with it. Got it." I said back.
"And remember gentlemen," He said talking to everyone now, "The football is your third testicle. Protect it. Play smart with it. And do not let anyone rip it away from you."
Coach was on a roll.
Anyone walking in off the street would think he was crazy if they heard him talk. But you get used to it after a while. And I know this may sound weird, but I sort of liked listening to him.
Towards the end of his speech he got more into the pep talk stuff, which was a welcomed relief. I know in the military they `tear you down' before building you back up to become a soldier. That's kind of how I felt - like I was ready for battle by the time he'd finished his talk.
Anyway, what surprised me was how I ended up playing in the game after that.
At kickoff I was `back'. I mean, I was totally focused. And the strange part is that I wasn't nervous at all. All of the pressure I'd been putting on myself over the last several weeks was gone. I can't really explain it, but I think maybe the anticipation of a game makes you a lot more nervous than actually playing in it. At least that's how it works for me.
I won't go into every detail of the game. But I did come down with the ball a time or two. Coach had decided to go `aerial', which was a major shift from the way he'd designed the playbook against the Trojan's in the past.
Their defensive line must have out-weighed our offensive line by a good 200 pounds, and he knew we'd be seeing the rush on nearly every play. So the plan was for Kline to drop back two quick steps, and hit Jason and I on short passes - and mixing that up with a scaled down running game every now and then just to keep them honest.
Just before halftime we were tied 7 to 7. Kline had called `D-jay-S on 2'
in the huddle, which is almost like it sounds: There would be a fake sweep to the left, and I would stand back off the line of scrimmage to the far right as a `decoy'.
The idea of the play was to force the Trojans to choose between two possible plays and guess wrong - and they did. They lined up for the sweep, bought the fake, and I bolted to the end zone, cutting back and meeting the ball on the five yard line. I'd only had one defender on me, so as I ran up on the ball, he blew passed me from behind.
After that it was a cakewalk into the end zone, but I dove for it just to be on the safe side. No way was I going to take a chance with my first varsity touchdown.
The best part of that play wasn't the catch - or even the pass - it was that we'd made it look so easy. There's a certain advantage to catching the opponent so completely off guard that they end up looking totally ridiculous. And there is definitely an advantage to running off the field at halftime up by 7.
Near the end of the third quarter, Jason Martin brought one down in the end zone that was a thing of pure-fucking-beauty. Kline had been forced out of the pocket, and let sail a pass that made your average Hail Mary look like decent odds. Kline went down hard just after the release, and the ball had been wildly over-thrown. Jason basically launched himself from nowhere out of a sea of bodies, catching the ball with one of his stretched out, and over-sized hands. He pulled it into his chest a split second before crashing back to the turf, and had somehow managed to hang on to the thing on impact. It was definitely the highlight of the game as far as I was concerned.
I wish I could say that that game came down to the end all tied up with five seconds on the clock, and that we scored a stunning field goal or a mind-boggling touchdown at the final whistle. But that's not how it happened.
The Trojan's fate was sealed early on by an amazing performance from our defense. They held them on more 3rd and longs than I could count. And I was looking forward to hearing Coach try and stutter his way out of a very rare compliment for their incredible effort once we got back to the locker room.
Anyway, around halfway through the fourth quarter, Barry Miller kicked a 37 yard field goal, and brought the score to 7 to 17. And that's where the score stayed. It was no spectacular victory, but Goldrun hadn't beaten the Trojans in something like 8 years on opening game night, so it `felt' spectacular.
After the clock wound down, a wave of bodies swarmed the football field. I mean, it seemed like half of the town was celebrating with us. The guys on the team were head- butting and screaming. The cheerleaders were flipping pompoms and flitting their skirts. The marching band was off on the sideline, playing the school's fight song. It was insane.
And through all of the cheering and celebration, my mind went silent, and I was alone in an ocean of bodies. I stood up high, looking out over the mass of people, scanning for the one person I wanted to see most. Of course I knew he was home watching his little sister while his mom was out doing the town. But even if there was a one in a thousand chance he'd somehow made it to see the game, I was determined to convince myself he wasn't there - even if it meant looking at every last person.
It had to have been a good ten minutes before I saw what could have passed for Carl. It wasn't much more than a dark figure standing alone out behind the lights, a good 200 yards away off in the dimness of the shot-put pit - about the same place where he and I had met.
I pushed myself through the crowd, and made my way towards the shadowy figure.
And as I got to within twenty or so feet, all I could make out was a grey sweatshirt with the hood pulled down low over his head.
I walked up a few feet closer, and my heart stopped dead when he looked up at me.
"No fucking way! It IS you." I said, walking the rest of the way over to him.
"Hey." He said back, grinning from under the hood.
"Dude, I thought you had to stay home."
I felt like giving him a `high-five' or something, but thought better of it.
"I laid a guilt trip on my mom, and she buckled." He said, rubbing his fist on his shoulder and blowing on his knuckles as if they'd caught fire.
"Um, why are you standing all the way over here?" I asked, laughing at how clever he seemed to think his escape from babysitting was.
"I was just keeping my distance, man. I figured you didn't need some punk sophomore hanging around and fucking up your `moment'." He said, looking out at the celebration still unfolding behind us.
Fucking up my moment?
"Good point. I'd much rather have you fuck up my moment over here." I said back.
"Yeah?" He asked, pulling off his hood, and letting it fall back to expose his dimpled grin.
"Yep." I said, smiling back.
I know it's not cool to use this word to describe a dude, but he looked unbelievably cute standing there just then. He was all antsy, shifting around like he was sort of nervous.
"So, what were you going to do, I mean, were you getting ready to walk back home?" I asked.
"Yeah, I told the old lady I'd be back by 9:00."
"Shit, it's gotta be getting close to that. Dude, we better get moving."
I said, motioning in the direction of the exit gate.
"What, in your uniform and cleats?" He asked, smiling all big and shit.
I shrugged my shoulders, and smiled back.
And that was it. I fucking left the celebration of my life to walk home with Carl.
On the short walk back to his place we talked mostly about the game. He started the conversation by rattling off stats.
"Check it out, 12 catches and no drops, four were for first downs, one was for six points, and the other seven had the Trojan coach looking like he wished he still had hair on his wrinkled old bald head to pull out." He said, recounting my plays.
"I didn't figure on getting so lucky." I said, laughing at his description.
"Yeah, right. Well, you were like a one man army out there, so lose the luck angle. And hey, you scored yourself some major frequent flyer miles with the chicks tonight. He said, looking over at me.
I shrugged my shoulders and swallowed the compliment. I mean, he was totally excited for me, and I wasn't going to try and fight it. It's pretty awesome having someone talk to you like that. So I just listened as he went on and on about this `one man army' that didn't even sound like me.
When we got to the front gate of the trailer park, he stopped cold. I figured he didn't want to walk the rest of the way to the trailer to avoid having to set up an introduction with his mom - which was a relief actually.
"So, you got anything happening for the weekend?" I asked.
"No money." He said back.
"Yep, I can relate to that one. Hey, I do know a pretty cool place up in Shawnee Wilderness. It ain't no train ride through the forest, but it's got some awesome hiking trails and a few good swimming holes... if you can break away." I suggested a little too enthusiastically.
"Damn. Sounds like some fun. You got wheels?"
"Nope, but the Indian casino shuttle gets you close enough. Dude, we could pack up some lunch, and totally make a day of it - you know - even play some catch and shit." I said.
"I'm totally in. Can I call you tomorrow? I need to run it by my mom first." He said, sort of embarrassed that he had to ask permission.
I gave him four numbers to remember (the pre-fixes in Goldrun are all the same). He said them back to himself a few times, and had it.
Anyway, I stood there way too long after that. I didn't want to leave him.
The guy had a fucking tractor-beam locked on me. And it wasn't helping that he wasn't moving either. I just stayed stuck like that - I wanted to stay stuck like that.
Our eyes were locked, and I knew he felt it too. It was like we didn't want to minimize what we had gone through that day with a lousy handshake.
And it wasn't like we were in Russia, where dudes with fury hats get to do that thing where they kiss each other - one time on each cheek. Not that that would have been much better, but I'm just making a point - it sucks to be a dude sometimes.
"Hey man," He finally said so quietly I could barely hear it, "I better go."
Like I said, being dudes can suck.
He turned away, and headed off to the trailer without looking back.
I don't remember what I did after that. I don't even remember the walk back to the school. For all I know I floated back.
By the time I got home, I just kind of blew passed my parents. I could tell that my dad wanted to say something about the game, but there was just no way. I muttered something about being totally beat, hugged my mom, and headed up the stairs.
My mom always blamed every unusual mood I'd had over the last few years on`hormones'. So as I went into my room, I'm sure that's what she was discussing with my dad. And he was probably buying off on it. I did feel bad about not going looking for them in the crowd after the game. I'd figure out some excuse to tell them in the morning.
I tore out of my uniform, and just threw it in a big heap on the armchair next to my bed. I walked naked to my door, and clicked it locked - then just stood there looking at myself in the full length mirror. I looked like I'd just come out of a spin cycle. Who wouldn't after a day like that? I ran my hands over a few sore spots that I'd picked up from one too many hits in the game. My normally bulging muscles just sort of hung there all depleted. And the only part of me that showed any sign of life at all was my semi-hard cock. Fucking train ride.
I thought about how Carl had told me earlier in the day how he felt`slightly gay' when he jacked off. And I was tempted to prove that was true for me too - right then and there.
I ran my hand over my tight stomach, and continued moving it down over my hardening cock, and then grabbed hold of my balls as I watched my reflection. Yeah, it felt slightly gay alright. But the reaction to my own touch wasn't because of the dude looking back at me in the mirror.
Maybe if I went to bed all hard and shit, the true reason I was so worked up would `meet up' with me in some awesome guilt-free dream. But my dick didn't seem to want to wait for a dream that might not happen.
And as I began to stroke myself, the image in the mirror became Carl. And I imagined it was him standing there, putting on a sexy show for me.
But his huge cock looked awesome, and he was looking back at me, desperate to blow his load.
He ran a hand over his stomach, and felt the definition of all those muscles, and the massive heat they were generating.
And just as I was getting into it, the image of him disappered.
Fucking images are always doing that shit to me.
But by then my hand was a total blur it was moving so fast. I tried to bring up his image again, but he was gone. It was just me jacking off looking at myself in a fucking mirror. I made the best of it by raising up my free arm, and flexing my bicep the same way body builders do - you know - to prove to myself that I was a bad-ass football jock.
Better than nothing, right?
And for the third time that day, I shot off a ridiculously intense blast of cum, which plastered the reflection of myself so hard that you could hear it make impact.
Fucking Carl must have caused my sperm factory to be working double shifts, I guess.
I didn't even bother to clean up my mess. I barely had the energy to throw myself on the bed and fall asleep.
We didn't get up to the parking area of Shawnee wilderness until around noon the next day. My mom had insisted on making me eat, which I didn't complain about considering it was waffles and bacon.
And my dad had just sat there on cloud-9 the whole time, every now and then peering over the newspaper he was holding up in front of him, and sort doing this nod thing over at me. To him, the fact that I'd not only made varsity, but had also made first string and scored a touchdown in the first game of the season was almost too much for him to handle. Not that he ever said much anyway. I think he wanted to talk, but he was afraid it would be too un-cool so soon after the game. By the middle of next week he'd be all ready for doing some serious verbal replays. I was even looking forward to it.
Anyway, at the trail head, Carl seemed pretty excited about the day ahead.
I didn't give him too many details, but I mentioned that it was about a four mile hike, and that the first quarter mile or so would be through the Indian reservation picnic area, which isn't actually part of the Federal Wilderness area behind it.
I went on to tell him that once you got beyond the park, the wilderness section was desolate of people. And that I gone backpacking with my dad there last year, and how we must have gone two or three days without ever seeing another person.
I described how awesome it was feeling like you are the last person on the Earth, and as I did, I couldn't help but imagine being out there alone with Carl. Yep, I was pretty hooked.
I led the way, figuring I'd have a better chance of finding my way if I didn't have to stare at Carl's budding ass the whole way up. For one thing, he must not have had time to wash his pond soaked cargos, as he had stuffed himself into what looked to be last year's cut-offs. It wasn't anything I'd ever wear. I mean, they were obviously converted blue jeans, cut way too short, with these slits halfway up the sides like he'd just crawled out of Jungle Book. The dude was busting out of the things. I guess he figured no one would see him up where we were going. But I have to say - I felt totally sorry for his balls. Damn.
Anyway, as you start your way up the trail, it doesn't take long for the forest to move in around you, and you have no choice but to notice the beauty of it. There's this awesome mix of towering pines and cedars up over head, so high you can't see the tops of them. And the trail is lined densely with ferns and all kinds of plants I could never name.
As we hiked passed the first section of the picnic area, you could look over the place and see the reservation managers had let it go south. Time had taken its toll on the picnic tables, and I'm sure some weren't even safe to sit on. And most of the barbecue grills - the kind that are normally elevated up on a steel pole - had either been knocked over or removed. The place was a disaster.
Towards the end of the picnic grounds the trail curves around to the right, then starts a gradual accent. The last of the old picnic area was so overgrown that you could no longer see much of the group section - where large numbers of people used to gather for reunions and whatnot. It was sort of sunken down, almost like a huge pit, surrounded by a four foot high rock wall. I remember it because of the horseshoe area, where my dad would get in some major competitions with my Uncle Bernie.
It was at that spot on the trail when we first heard it. It sounded like muffled talking off in the distance, coming from the direction of a narrow trail that led to the group area.
"Dude, did you hear that?" Carl whispered.
"Yep, probably just some dudes getting high or something."
So Carl hangs a right, and creeps down the narrow side trail to see what the commotion is all about. I waited, and could have cared less about it.
He descended about 20 feet down the gradual slope of the trail until it ended at a patch of fairly dense Manzanita and ferns, then got down on all fours and moved in closer.
After pushing aside the thick ferns, he peered out in the direction of the voices we'd heard. He remained motionless for a half a minute or so, and then looked back up at me as he moved away.
I could see from where I was standing that his face was beet red. So I started down the trail towards him.
"What?" I asked quietly, as I approached.
"Dude, you are going to freak," He whispered. "And I think I recognize one of them."
"One of who?" I asked.
"Just take a deep breath, and see for yourself." He said.
So I got down, and we crawled over to the opening in the brush.
There before us, maybe 40 feet away, I saw them. It was two naked dudes who looked to be around our ages. One guy was bending forward, using his arms to hold himself up off the old rock wall. And the other guy was behind him, fucking the dude's brains out. Carl and I looked at each other, and then back out at the two of them.
"Jesus Christ, I think that's Eric Reynolds." I whispered.
"That's what I thought - from the football team. That's disgusting. Can you make out who the other dude is?" Carl asked.
"Dude, who knows? But he doesn't seem to mind what Eric's doin' to him."
I said back.
Carl backed off from the opening in the bushes for a second time.
"Follow me; we're gonna to give them something to remember us by." He said quietly.
I backed off, and looked up at him as he stood.
"What are you talking about? We aren't doing shit. Let's just get out of here." I said, standing up along side of him.
Carl had this smirk on his face as he shrugged me off, and started back to the main trail. I followed.
He retraced our path in the direction of the picnic tables we had passed.
"Carl, whatever you're thinking, I'm not in." I said, as he continued to lead.
"Dude, it'll be fun. What, you never wanted to get a little revenge on a senior?" He asked.
"Revenge, yeah. But if he sees us and recognizes us, we are history. Dude, think about it." I pleaded.
He wasn't listening.
"What we do is we come up on them from the other side, like we are just hiking along, then - boom - we're standing right next to them before they have a chance to run for cover. We'll have Eric peeling grapes for us for the rest of the year - just so we keep our mouths shut." He said, grinning over his shoulder as he walked.
"Yeah, we might also get our asses kicked. Animals get mean when you back`em into a corner and what he's got going on with his little friend is something that should be left alone." I said, trying to reason with him.
It was like he was on a mission after that. I mean, the guy obviously has some kind of death wish. I should have figured that one out after he came about two inches from falling off the train yesterday.
So we walked all the way around the old picnic area, circled out around the perimeter of the rock wall, and came up to the only opening to the large group area where we'd seen the two going at it.
I seriously wanted to bolt. We were now crouched down, just on the other side of the wall from the two guys. Through the opening in the wall, you could see Eric's muscular bucking ass come into view each time just before he'd slam back into the other dude. You could almost feel the moans from him and his `friend' we were so close to them. And you could see the young dude's fingers digging into the top of the rock wall from our side, as he squirmed around on the other side of us.
"Dude," Carl whispered, "Wait till one of them gets close to blowing a load, and then we bust `em right in the middle of it." He said, grinning.
I finally gave into his death-wish plan, and reluctantly nodded. I have to admit, my heart was racing like crazy - it was scarier than shit - and at the same time, it was a major rush knowing we were about to completely destroy such a big man on campus. I mean, damn.
So we just tuned in and listened to what was going on. Eric was totally complimenting the dude on how hot and tight he was. And the other guy was saying shit back you'd never in a million years hear a chick say - like encouraging Eric to slam him as hard as he wanted, and how awesome his big-ass cock felt. I was getting kind of worked up just listening to it.
And it went on like that with them grunting and moaning and every now and then saying stuff that wasn't so easy to hear.
But when they started getting close to blowing, there was no mistaking it.
Eric began throwing out every four letter word he would think of, and by then you could actually hear him smacking into the kid with every thrust.
"Dude, I'm super close." He said to the kid in a deep shaky voice.
"Me too man... ready to fuckin' blow a hole in the wall." He grunted back.
And that was Carl's queue.
So he stands up and takes off through the opening in the wall just as he said he would, talking back at me as if we were casual hikers out exploring for the day. I jumped up, adjusted my jammed up dick, and followed.
"Dude, check this out, it looks like a fuckin' gladiator arena." He says, bounding through to the other side. I came up one step behind him.
And bingo - they were busted - so close to cumming that a fucking act of congress couldn't have stopped them.
Everything just sort of went to slow-mo at that point. Carl and I came to a dead stop, standing just to the side and about a foot away from them. I was on the side closest to Eric, and Carl was directly in front of the younger dude - who had blond curly hair - an almost pretty boy that looked like he'd popped right off of a teeny bopper magazine.
Eric snapped his head around, and his face contorted in the confusion. The kid jerked his head towards us at the same time, and terror instantly filled his light blue eyes.
And what happened next blew me away. It was as if Eric's brain had not yet told his body to stop its' assault on the kid's perky little butt - like a chicken's body that keeps running around after the head is chopped off - he just kept fucking. I was freaking.
"Oops." Carl said, trying to act surprised and our `accidental' encounter.
Eric was `gone' plowing his worked up cock into the kid, hung up in that moment of lust where a dude is physically unable to stop it. He was bringing his throbbing cock out so far that you could actually see the pulsing flesh of his mushroom head - before sending it plunging back in as far as it could go. The kid was practically glowing in his own horror.
I looked over at Carl, who had this huge smirk on his face. He was sucking in Eric's agonized eyes, which were reflecting back a mental calamity somewhere between animal lust and utter fear.
There was no need to say much, as Carl's ploy was already over. Eric had been had, and the dog and pony show was on.
In some last desperate attempt to prevent himself from blowing off inside the dude, Eric began to move his hands wildly over the sweaty ass and back of his baby-smooth buddy. It was all instinct as he attempted to push himself off of the guy. But his hands just kept slipping away with nothing to push off against.
"An...DREWS..." He stuttered, as his dazed hazel eyes met mine.
And I just smirked back, as Carl was doing.
He was panting and grunting and sweating and gasping - pretty much unable to form a sentence.
I never thought I'd see the day when a big muscled up jock like Eric would be all vulnerable and shaky and scared like that. It was pretty hot watching as his black hair hung low, dripping sweat onto the small of the other dude's back. His over-sized biceps defied their own strength, all weak and trembling as he held the dude's slender waist.
And with his panicked eyes on mine, I made a zipper movement across my lips, as if to tell him his secret was safe.
Yep, it was pretty cruel, but revenge is sweet that way. He'd played more senior pranks on freshman than just about any senior I knew, and for the first time since I was a freshman, I had him by his busting balls. Thank you Carl.
His face went beet red, and bulging veins popped out angrily from sides of his neck. I could almost feel the force of it as he lost his battle, and his first blast of cum fired up the hard bubble butt of his young moaning friend.
And that single blast proved too much for the kid, who was grunting under the force of Eric's intensified thrusts. He began bucking hard back into Eric. And as he did, one hand came up off the wall, and found his begging cock. He just went ballistic, pumping himself in a mad frenzy.
"Oh, fuck..." He gasped - as his eyes rolled back into his head.
And as the boy's knees buckled forward from his first jolt of cum, Eric's exploding cock came out into full view. His hand flew up to his balls, and his ripped sweaty stomach went concave as a twisted rope of cum shot from his inflamed dick head. The kid's back was instantly painted with a strand of sperm spanning from his neck to his waist.
As the young dude shot off onto the rock wall, Eric let loose a sweeping battery of cum that was flying everywhere - including on Carl and I. We had zero time to run for cover it happened so fast.
I watched as Carl got totally nailed on the side of his face with the dude's flying spunk - barely missing hitting him right in the mouth. And then another strand came out of nowhere, plastering him low and angling all sideways and shit so that it swiped down across his waist in a thick line - wrapping itself like a hand over the enormous bulge in his faded cutoffs - soaking into the tight fabric to meet the bare skin of Carl's dick.
Eric staggered back a half step, catching himself with a free hand as it slapped hard against the sperm plastered back of the grunting kid. And as he whipped his throbbing cock in my direction, a crooked string of sperm smacked across my shoulder just below my neck, where it dripped down like burning lava over my chest.
We had been sitting ducks, completely helpless to react.
Carl and I looked at each other, and I know we were thinking the same thing. We needed to cut our losses and get the fuck out of there before Eric came to his senses.
So as Eric and his buddy grunted out their final spurts of steaming sperm up over the tops of their pumping fists - we bolted.
The entire scene had lasted no more than two or three minutes. And with the entire day still in front of us, we made a b-line to the upper trail where we'd first spotted the two.
As we hit the main trail, we kept up a pretty fast pace. Eric was sure to be furious beyond fury once the reality of our little `hit and run' prank set in - accidental encounter or not - he'd been busted at a level no dude would take lightly. I just wanted to put as much distance as possible between us and the group picnic area, just in case he got the idea he might track us down and toss us over a cliff or something.
Once we got a good half mile up the trail, we stopped to catch our breath.
Carl was bent over, holding onto his knees and sucking in air, and I was doing the same as I leaned up against a large boulder.
He looked up at me with this funny looking smile.
"Dude, did you see the looks on their faces?" He asked between breaths, shaking his head at the image of it.
"Yep. I don't think I'll forget that look as long as I live. I mean damn, multiply getting caught jacking off by about a hundred times, and that's gotta be how they felt," I said, struggling for air right along with him.
"Easily," he replied, "told you it would be fun - you know - except for the part where Eric `takes us out' at the end."
"No doubt, the fucker nailed me good," I said, looking down at my chest for any traces of `burn marks'.
Not that I thought I'd see any of Eric's senior spunk left on me, but I swear I could almost feel it radiating off my body. Maybe it was just my imagination.
Carl brought his hand up to his cheek and gave it an exaggerated swipe.
"You got off easy Jack, two inches to the left and I would have been kissing his orphans," he said, with that stupid little grin he gets.
I tried not to laugh.
"Dude, it would have totally brought you down," I replied, laughing at the exaggerated expression on his face.
"You got that right," he replied.
And just as we were about to get into reliving all that we'd witnessed down at the group picnic area, our laughter was cut short.
From the distance, a roaring voice echoed through the mountain range.
"AAANNNDDREEEEEWS!!!! YOU'RE A DEAD MAN!!!!!"
Carl's face dropped.
"Fuck. They are coming for us," he said over to me.
"Shit, this is NOT good," I said, "Reynolds is gonna want to kick our asses all the way back to our freshman year. Either he gets some revenge on us up here on the side of this mountain, or he gets some revenge on us back at school. But he will get us back at some point, you can count on it."
"Yep, we could easily be dust if we don't play it right," he replied.
"Play what right?" I asked, not really wanting to hear the answer.
"You know, we play it right," he said, "we let Eric confront us up here."
"Oh, that's just brilliant," I said, shaking my head.
"Jack, what's the worst that could happen? We just let Eric make his speech, and we promise that we won't blow his little gay cover, and that will be that," he replied.
"So what, we just wait here for them to catch up to us? That's suicide, Carl."
"I'll do the talking," he said as he dripped his pack, "just play along with it and agree to whatever shit I say. I'll have him thinking we are his new best friends in no time."
"Yeah, well you don't know Eric the way I do. You can kiss your ass goodnight, goodbye, and good day. It's all over. Did you just hear him calling out for me? He said I was a dead man. He sounded like a fucking crazed, pissed off mutant animal or something."
He flashed me a dimpled grin.
"Relax. This should be a blast."
"You wanna give me a clue - you know - so I can at least get myself psyched up for whatever you have in mind?" I asked.
"Um, well... when in Rome, do as the Romans do," he said with a ridiculously cute grin.
He's totally nuts. I knew it.
"I hope that doesn't mean what I think it means. If it does, my suspicions of you being insane are all true." I manged.
"Aw, come on Jack. How many times in this life will you ever get the chance to make like you're a queer boy? Never - that's how often."
I looked away from his perfect body, and studied my thoughts for a moment.
"OK, so I get it. You're saying that if we make like we are gay, he'll think we won't have a problem with what we saw him and his little friend doing back there at the park - that we won't expose his secret to the entire school.
So how are we supposed to make him believe we are boyfriends? Do we start sucking face as soon as they turn the corner and spot us standing here?" I asked sarcastically.
"Cool, so you get the idea," he said, ignoring the real question.
Why does he do that shit to me? My dick went ballistic, and my heart went into a tailspin at the mere thought of making out with him. I looked back, letting my eyes move from his tight cut-offs, all the way up his perfectly flat sexy abs, and then to his excited gaze.
"I don't know. I followed your lead earlier, and it was that ingenious idea that got us into this mess. You're on another one of your rolls." I said. And it was true. It was a crazy idea.
He loved all of it of course. I think he liked to see me squirm, and nothing seemed to make him happier than shocking the hell out of me. I let my eyes drop over him again, and they hesitated at the evidence of Eric's cum stain on his oversized bulge. My face went hot, and I looked away for a second time. I don't think he noticed.
He looked up, and then out into the forest.
"Dude, you take shit way too seriously," he said, "no one is asking you to like any of it. So big fucking deal if we do a phony kiss - or even do hand-jobs in front of them - it'd be totally worth it. For one thing, our asses would be saved from certain death. It's not like we'd be sucking each other off or some major head trip like that. I'm just talking mild stuff to get him to `buy it' that we are together. We make it look convincing, and we'd be off the hook."
That was easy enough for him to say. If I actually kissed Carl, phony or not, I wouldn't need a hand-job to go off - I'd likely blow buckets the second his lips touched mine. The bad part of that is that he would know how I felt about him two seconds into a kiss. I wasn't exactly ready to let that happen.
"Whatever." I said back.
He looked back over at me.
"I take it that means you don't want to practice suckin' face ahead of time?" He asked, making a smooching sound, and then laughing over at me and my reaction.
I managed a fake smile, and kicked at the dirt.
"Nah, we both already know how to kiss and give ourselve's hand-jobs, which probably wouldn't be enough to convince Eric were were on his side of the fence anway."
It didn't seem to phase him that we'd need to turn it up a notch.
But instead of reacting to what I'd said, he casually reached his arms above his head, and gave off a lazy, yawning stretch, probably to mess with me or something.
I mean, between the sunlight hitting his awesome stomach, and the way his bulge was exaggerated in his backward stretching motion, I wondered if I was being tortured by ancient wicked demons or something.
And with one sweeping, ripping motion, and completely without warning, he grabbed near the top button of his cut-offs, and popped open just enough of them for his hardening cock-head to burst out.
I felt my jaw instantly drop at the sight of him.
And as he staightened up after his sexy yawn, he looked over at me, and then down at his giant sophomore boy-meat.
"So dude," he said, "can we drop all the drama about Eric for a sec? I mean, just come over here and suck me off, and me and you can talk about other shit later."
I couldn't believe my ears, and his cute smile defied the reality of it.
I didn't know what else to do, so I bent down, picked up a marble sized pebble, and tossed it so that it hit him squarely on his right shoulder.
And as he watched it drop to the ground, I replied:
*Thanks for reading - and thank you for the votes and comments from the first two chapters. That was very cool.