Bowling Alley Bullies

Why the hell did I major in English? What was I thinking? But that’s just it; I wasn’t thinking at all. Reading, to me, is an escape so why not major in English? That tracks. I’ll read books for four years and breeze through college. And then what? What job would await me? How would I support myself? College was fun. College is over. I was an idiot. And now I’m paying the price.

I guess what I thought was that one day I’d become a successfully published author. The first step in that process is to write a book, then spend forever editing it, find an agent who will secure a publishing deal… I’d have a better chance of being struck by lightning. But it all starts with writing a compelling novel and the writing process pays no money. I tried to not move back home. I tried to make it on my own. Graduation was eight months ago. Three of us rented an apartment in the city and we were living life as adults. I couldn’t find more than a part-time job and within six months, I was out of money. Two months ago I had no choice but to move back in with my parents. I’m not just an idiot but a loser too.

Well, that’s how I feel, anyway. In truth, my parents don’t mind. I’m an only child and they don’t hate having me home. Would they be happier if I were to be close to home rather than in their home every day? Maybe. If I’m not out supporting myself by the time I’m thirty, then I really will be a loser.

My parents are all I have in this town. When I went to college, I went out of state. None of my college friends live here. And I only had two friends in high school. They both went away to college too. The difference is that they didn’t major in English. They weren’t idiots. They found real careers in real fields related to their real interests. Neither of them had to move back home with mommy and daddy.

So, I spend my time reading and writing. Or contemplating writing. Tricking myself into thinking I’m writing. Really, I’m just reading. And I have a part-time job at the bowling alley. It’s not some huge state-of-the-art facility; it’s a small town, privately owned bowling alley. But they pay me money so twenty-five hours a week I stand behind the counter, work the cash register and ask people what size shoe they wear. All shift long I trade gross worn and tattered rented shoes for gross worn and tattered street shoes. Street shoes that are warm, damp and smelly right off of nasty stinking feet.

Even at our slowest times, there are always at least three of us working; one at the counter, one for concessions and one for maintenance, but tonight it’s just me. A huge snow storm has crippled the town. Eighteen inches of snow and the roads are deserted. I was the only one who made it in for my shift tonight. My parent’s house is only one block away from the bowling alley, so I slipped into my Columbia Snow Boots (the same pair I wore in high school) and trudged my way into work. Everyone else on tonight’s shift lives too far to walk and the roads are impassable.

My boss had called and told me to walk over and open the place up. He said I’d probably have no customers and would just be able to sit and read all night – fine with me – then lock up and go home. If I did get a few customers by some miracle then maybe I’d ring up enough in sales to pay for my shift. He’s warm at home and probably bingeing Farmer Wants a Wife or some shit. Whatever. I survived the short walk and now I get paid to read. Finally. My dream job!

I brought my backpack with me. There’s not much in it; two paperback novels and my Nike high tops. Once I flip on all the lights and power on the lanes, my work is done. I pull a book out of my backpack, slouch in the chair and start to read. After some time I check my phone. It’s eight o’clock. Closing time on a weeknight is midnight. I’ve read for two hours already and I have four more to go.

I realize that my feet are burning hot and my high tops are still in my backpack. My warm thermal snow boots are still on and I am now scorched and sweaty. I rise from my chair to remedy the situation when I am stopped by the sight of headlights tuning into our unplowed parking lot. The headlights belong to an obnoxiously huge pickup truck fitted with gigantic snow tires that are taller than most cars. Am I really about to have customers? In this ridiculous weather?

The truck parks itself, the lights go off and three guys tumble out into the drifting snow. They bulldoze their way the short distance to the door and spill inside. They stomp their feet, clap their hands and pull off their hats.

Oh shit. I recognize them. From high school. Two of these guys were punks back when we were sixteen and just by looking at their faces, I can tell that despite being twenty-two, nothing has changed. They’re still punks. Assholes, bullies, jerks… I pretty well avoided them in high school. I was lucky to stay off their radar. My best hope right now is that they don’t remember or recognize me. Or even better, at the age of twenty-two, they’ve matured and aren’t the asshole bullies they still look to be. Well, two of them look like assholes. The third guy looks…

For a minute, that’s the case. Or at least it seems to be as they laugh and shove each other around. Their names are Trey, Cal and Nico. In high school, Trey had always been their leader. He was always the biggest, the loudest, the ugliest and the meanest. I can already tell he’s still the biggest and the ugliest. He’s probably put on twenty pounds since high school but they’re not good pounds; they’re beer-drinking pounds of unattractive flab. His perpetually red cheeks are fuller and on a rounder face than they used to be. Cal is the middle everything of the three. Middle in height, weight and assholeness. He’s basically Trey’s Yes Man. And then there’s Nico…

Nico is the smallest of the three. He’s also the group’s conscience. I never understood why he was (or apparently still is) friends with these douchebags. Maybe Trey and Cal hold something over him, like blackmail. Maybe one of them is his cousin and he’s obligated through family to keep them from getting into too much trouble. Anyway, compared to those two morons, he almost seems like a nice guy. He has blond hair and blue eyes. Through four years of high school I’d catch myself staring at Nico whenever he was around. It was involuntary. I couldn’t explain it, my eyes would just be drawn to him and I’d be transfixed by his every movement. And whenever he would look at me I would force myself to look away.

Senior year of high school Nico and I were in the same U.S. History class. He sat one row behind me and to my left. One day I innocently turned his way and it was just at the moment that he was leaning back stretching with raised arms. His t-shirt had ridden up to his ribcage and I had a good three-second view of the full expanse of his smooth lean stomach, bullseyed with a shallow concave belly button, the sight of which made me stop breathing. I again quickly looked away. Was it just lucky timing on my part or did he plan that little show just for me? Either way the image was burned in my brain and I never forgot it. I’ve conjured it up on numerous occasions since then, especially late at night alone in bed with a box of tissues on the nightstand. And while I never determined his intent, my response was crystal clear. Right there in History class, I popped a raging boner.

They all shed their coats and plod their way toward the counter. Toward me. I can see that Nico too has added a few pounds in these last four years, but unlike Trey, his are from time in the gym, not time on the couch. He used to be a boy and now he’s a man. He might be the smallest of the trio but he has some nice musculature going on under that tight-fitting t-shirt. His every move has me mesmerized. 

My hopes of anonymity are quickly dashed when Cal grins and points at me in recognition. He says, “Dude, that’s… Wait. Who is he?”

The thing about me is that no matter how forgettable my personality may be, my appearance is just the opposite. As the only redheaded kid in four years of high school, I stood out.

Trey grins his ugly grin, “I know this little guy. He’s… Corey, right?”

Nico clears his throat, “His name is Cody.”

My shock of red hair and pale freckled face are hard to forget but Nico also remembers my name. I don’t think he and I have ever had a conversation at any point in time, but all these years later he doesn’t just vaguely recognize me…he knows who I am. This realization on top of the sound of Nico’s voice saying my name has caused a rousing stir in my crotch.

Trey says, “Whatever.” He looks around the empty building, “I’m starving.”

I say, “Unfortunately the concession stand is closed.”

He eyes me, “But you guys are open.”

“I’m the only one who made it in.”

Trey’s eyes widen.

“We’ve got bowling and air hockey.”

Cal says, “I had my heart set on some nachos. You work here, right? I think the mass crowds at the desk here will understand if you take a minute and switch stations.”

I sigh, “I’ve only worked here for two months. I’m not trained in preparing food and drink and I’m not certified to serve. The most I could do is ring up boxed candy and bottles of water and soda.”

Trey hooks his arm around his friend, “Cal here had his heart set on nachos and beer. How hard can that be? Isn’t the customer always right?”

“The taps aren’t even connected. I seriously don’t know how to work any of the equipment over there.”

They seem like they’ve already had a few beers. The two of them anyway. Cal says, “I’m sure we can figure it out.”

They take a step that way, but Nico stops them. “Guys, we don’t want Cody to get in trouble and lose his job, right? Let’s just bowl a few games and be on our way. You can have more beer later.”

Trey scoffs, “Says the designated driver. What do you care? You weren’t drinking anyway.”

I get the impression that Nico is the designated driver every time the three of them get together. Maybe that explains why all these years later, he’s still hanging out with them. It’s not because he actually likes them. He’s performing a civic duty. He’s protecting the residents of the town from drunken assholes. That’s what I’ll choose to think anyway.

“Go grab some Cokes and candy,” says Nico. “I’ll buy us a few games.”

The two goons shuffle away and for the first time, Nico’s eyes meet mine. They are as blue as they were four years ago. He looks away first. He points to my open book on the counter. I’m reading Anxious People.

He says, “I loved that book. I read it two years ago. Have you read A Man Called Ove yet?”

I’m in complete shock. I always figured that by association, Nico was as dumb and ignorant as his friends. Undeniably cute and less of an asshole, but still dumb. I was wrong.

I beam at him, “It’s in my top ten favorites of all time.”

Trey and Cal bark out a laugh from about twenty feet away. Apparently something about boxes of Junior Mints and Snowcaps is funny.

Nico flashes a credit card, “I guess I’ll take one lane, nine games, three shoe rentals and a couple sodas and candies.”

I begin to work the register, “No snack for you?”

He shakes his head, “I’m not a teenager anymore. That shit would go right here,” he pinches his fingers where love handles would be if he had any fat on his body at all. He looks me in the eyes again and this time I’m the one who looks away first.

I finish the transaction on the register and ask, “What size are you?”

He cocks an eyebrow, “Excuse me?”

I blush, “Shoes.”

“Oh, right.” He pockets his credit card, “I’ll take an 11.”

The Neanderthals are back and I ask Trey, “What size shoe do you wear?”

“What the fuck do you care? Do you have a foot fetish or something? Are you some kind of faggot?”

Nico is about to jump in but Cal gets there first. “Dude, we’re at a bowling alley. Look down.”

He does and it registers that they’re all in snow boots. He looks up at me, “Sorry Corey. I’m a 13.”

Cal scoffs, “It’s Kenny, not Corey. And I’ll take a 12.”

As I grab all three pairs I hear Nico again inform them that my name is Cody. Trey says, “Whatever. And I’m not giving you my shoes.” He turns to Cal, “While we’re bowling he’d be sneaking whiffs and jacking off in them or something.”

Nico shakes his head.

Cal laughs and turns to me, “Even if you do like feet, Trey’s would cure you of that particular affliction. They smell like a goat’s anus.”

Even Nico laughs at that one. “True story,” he says.

“I’m gonna trust you guys,” I say. “Keep your shoes with you.”

They each take their respective pairs and are about to head to their lane when Trey asks me, “Is that natural or do you dye it?” He points at my hair.

Before I can answer, Cal says, “It’s natural.”

“How would you know?”

“Because he has green eyes, duh.”

Trey says, “It could be hair dye and colored contacts.”

I almost laugh. I hate the way I look. If I altered my look, why would I ever choose this?

“What about his freckles,” Cal asks. “Do you think those are fake too?”

“And you’re so pale. How are you so white?”

Nico says, “Trey, it’s January. What do you expect?”

“I’m just getting to know our new friend here. If he dyes his hair, wears contacts, paints on his freckles and has a foot fetish, that’s all fine with me. Good for him.”

I blush. Hoping to avoid having to prove anything, I say, “It’s all natural. All of it. My skin doesn’t tan, it only burns. I wear sunscreen 9 months of the year.”

Trey grunts. As they turn and walk to their lane, Nico sneaks me an apologetic half smile and my dick returns a half salute.

For the next 30 minutes the three of them bowl their first game as I read my book. Then a shadow crosses my page. I look up and Trey and Cal are looking down on me. Trey says, “We’re bored. We want to play with you.”

“Umm…”

Nico appears from behind them, “What he means is he wants you to bowl with us. He wants to even us up and make it two teams of two.”

Trey smiles, “Sure. In a minute. But first, I still can’t stop thinking about whether or not you were lying to us.”

I place my book face down on the counter. “Lying about what?”

“You,” he says. “You said it’s all natural. I want to see for myself.”

They move quickly around the counter and I have the ridiculously irrational thought that only employees are allowed back here. Cal moves behind me, lifts me out of the chair and holds my arm behind my back. Trey is in front of me and he grabs a fistful of my hoodie. My heart is pounding. I’ve never been beat up before and suddenly I’m terrified. Where is Nico? He’s been the voice of reason tonight. And there he is. He says, “Trey, you don’t have to do this. Leave him alone. He’s just doing his job.”

“Of course I don’t have to, I want to.”

I close my eyes and wonder if the first punch will land on my jaw or in the stomach. But that’s not what happens. He unzips my sweatshirt and finds I’m wearing a t-shirt under it. He grabs my t-shirt and yanks it up to my armpits. For a moment, all three of them stare at my chest and stomach. I don’t work out. I should, but I don’t. I’m skinny, but soft and vulnerable at the same time.

It’s Cal who speaks first, “See, I told you it’s natural. There’s all the proof you need.” He points and I realize he’s indicating the treasure trail of short red hair that begins at my navel and disappears beneath the waistband of my jeans. “He couldn’t dye that,” Cal insists.

Trey seems to be in a trance. He’s still staring. Cal adds, “His stomach is even whiter than his face. I guess that’s because there are no freckles down there.”

I look to Nico for some help here, but he’s staring too. And he’s had a way longer look than I had of him in History class all those years ago. All the staring is making my crotch stir again. Hopefully not so much that they notice.

Cal is the only one who’s spoken in the last few minutes. To fill the silence he adds, “It’s like porcelain or something. You know? So white. And smooth. I bet at the beach all the girls are jealous.”

That makes me even harder and I’m filling my jeans quickly. It also makes me blush again and Trey and Nico seem to snap out of their daze. Nico says, “Let’s get back to bowling.”

Trey pulls my shirt back down and looks up to my green eyes, “We need our fourth.”

I shake my head, “I’m on duty.”

He looks around the empty building, “Who’s gonna know?”

“I’m no good.”

“Great!” he grins. “You’ll be on Nico’s team!”

Nico says, “If Cody doesn’t want to—”

Trey points at him, “No! He let us down already with the food and the beer. We are paying customers. What we want, we get. We want him to play.” He looks down at my feet. “But he can’t bowl in those. What size shoe are you?”

I completely forgot that I was going to change from my boots to my high tops like an hour ago right when these guys pulled up. I’ve now been wearing these thermal snow boots for four hours and I’m once again aware that my feet are burning hot. A small part of me believes that if I don’t tell him my shoe size then this won’t happen. I say nothing. He can see the resolve in my eyes. I can see in his eyes that he takes this as a challenge.

He says, “If you won’t tell me then there’s only one way to find out.” He nods at Cal who grabs my arms again and the two of them wrestle me to the floor. I don’t put up too much of a fight – what would be the point? Any one of these guys is three times stronger than me. They each straddle one of my legs and try to tug off my boots. They are laced too high and tight to slip off. Realizing this, they begin to slowly and methodically unlace each boot, taking their time. Like they’re unwrapping a present. With the laces finally loosened enough, my boots come off. My feet are as sweaty as I feared they might be. The cool air of the room can be felt through my sodden white Nike crew socks.

They each bend the tongue back on the boot they hold, read the label and say in unison, “A perfect 10!”

Nico grabs a pair of 10’s from under the counter, “Okay guys. I’ve got his size right here. Let him up and let’s get back to bowling.”

They are not moving so therefore, neither can I. Trey says, “He won’t willingly put those on. We’ll have to put them on for him.”

Cal sniffs, “Dude, I didn’t think it was humanly possible but I think his feet smell worse than yours do.”

Trey sniffs then covers his nose, “Oh my god! Is smelly feet a Ginger thing or something? Wow!”

It’s not a Ginger thing. It’s a snow boots thing. I forgot to change out of them and I wore them in the warm indoors for too long. But I say nothing.

“Maybe all of the stink is in the socks.” Trey barely grazes my foot and I flinch. “Mr. Sensitive,” he grins. “His socks are soaked through with sweat. That can’t be good. We better get them off of him before he catches a cold.”

“Or permanently damages my sense of smell with his insane funk,” Cal laughs.

Nico says, “Come on. Cody was just minding his own business. Don’t hurt him.”

Trey looks up, “Who said anything about hurting him?”

Cal says, “But feet this smelly cannot go unpunished.”

Oh no. Punished? What does that mean? If they’re not gonna hurt me then what? Tickle me? No one has tickled me since I was a little kid. I have no siblings and that’s just not something I ever did with friends in high school or college. I don’t even know for sure if I am ticklish, but if my involuntary reaction to Trey’s little touch just now is any indication, then I might be in some real trouble here. I feel my wet socks getting pulled off and I look at Nico. His eyes meet mine and I deflate when I see that his are helpless and resigned.

Cal says, “Seriously Kenny, I need a gasmask this close to your feet.”

I wish I could say they’re lying. Or at least exaggerating. The truth is, I can smell my own feet from way up here and it is pretty bad. I want to scream that it’s from the boots, but I remain silent.

Trey observes, “His feet are as white as his socks.” They both laugh.

“Except for his pink toes.”

“His toenails are perfect. Jeez, he could be a foot model.”

“How can a pair of feet look so perfect and smell so much like ass?”

The humiliation is actually making my erection even more erect. But I can’t worry about that anymore because the attack on my helpless feet has begun. My toes get bent back and fingernails begin a slow drag up the soles of my feet. My arms flail about and I realize that I’m actually screaming. I guess I am ticklish. One of them flosses my toes while the other grazes my arch. One of them swipes up and down the top of my foot while the other scratches at the ball of my foot. My captive feet get probed, prodded, raked and explored. Every inch. At least ten minutes have gone by and tears stream from my eyes as I howl in laughter. I think I just might pass out.

I don’t know if they finally get bored, can’t take the odor anymore or if they become genuinely concerned for my sanity, but they eventually stop. They still remain straddling my legs though and I feel the bowling shoes being worked onto my naked feet. Gross. Community rentals and no socks.

Once both shoes are tied, they stand and pull me up. Trey grins, “I guess redheads are extra ticklish.”

I say nothing.

Because I’m afraid of what might happen if I don’t bowl with them, I go pick out a ball. In the first frame, Trey rolls a strike, Cal gets a spare, Nico has 9 and I have 7. Trey looks at me and says, “Take off your hoodie.”

“The hoodie isn’t my problem. I’m just not very good at bowling,” I say.

He shakes his head, “Maybe we didn’t mention it before. We’re playing Strip Bowling.”

“That’s not a thing,” says Nico.

“Yes it is,” says Trey. “The lowest score each frame has to take something off.”

I ask, “What if someone else walks in?”

“In this weather? Are you kidding? Besides, I locked the door behind us when we came in. We’re your only guests for the night.”

Great. I guess we’re playing Strip Bowling. I really am not a bowler, but I better take this seriously and actually try or I’ll be naked within five minutes. Although I have to admit that I would not be mad if Nico had to take his shirt off.

Nico comes to my rescue again, “You already stole his socks. He can lose two frames before he has to take something else off.”

Cal grins, “He’s got you there.”

“Fine.”

We bowl on. I am still the worst, but I don’t lose every frame. I learn that Trey is as pale as I am under his shirt and even doughier than I thought. But he has no shame and I can admire that. I learn that Cal has an “outie” (ew) and acne scars on his back. And I learn that Nico’s belly button is still a concave vertical oval. He’s more muscular than he was in high school and I now have new mental images to save forever. I can’t not look at him. It’s impossible. With the Under Armour waistband of his under two inches higher than the waistband of his American Eagle jeans, I am transfixed.

We are about halfway through the second game, all in various stages of undress, when I realize that I am down to just my size 10 bowling shoes (still without socks) and my underwear. I should have stopped. I shouldn’t have taken another turn, but absentmindedly, I did. And I lost. Did they really expect that I would take the underwear off? Apparently, yes. Or at least two of them did.

Nico steps in front of me. “This is just four guys messing around. We’re playing a game. Cody lost, and now it’s over for him. He’s out. But his underwear stays on.”

“He played another frame and lost again. Something has to happen,” says Cal.

“Yeah. It’s either lose the undies or we find another punishment.” Trey agrees.

“Or,” Nico tries reason, “you could realize that this has gone far enough and you can grow the fuck up.”

They look at each other, “Nah!”

Cal wonders, “How can we make him pay up?”

Trey grins, “Maybe we find out if the rest of him is as ticklish as his feet are!”

Cal smiles too, “Let’s do it.”

They brush past Nico and catch me by the ball return. I am once again brought down to the floor but this time, it’s not about my feet. I again don’t know what to expect. I have never been tickled before. Cal kneels and pins down my hands above my head, pulling me long and lean. My rib cage juts skyward. Trey straddles my thighs and looks down at my stretched out torso like he’s about to dig into Thanksgiving dinner. His eyes are wide and he’s eager to begin. He pokes and prods at my ribs from the sides and my head thrashes back and forth as I scream in laughter. How the fuck can that tickle so much?

I scan for Nico. He watches with an impassive expression. Does he consider this a victory over having to take my underwear off? Maybe he does. Maybe it is. Maybe it’s not. Maybe I haven’t decided. Trey grabs my sides above the hips and squeezes. Oh my god! I howl in laughter and I can hardly breathe. Tickling is weird. It is torture but it’s not actually painful. I think I’d rather show them my dick. And my dick would rather be seen. It seems to have a mind of its own because the tickling is making it grow. And I’m no longer wearing thick jeans to conceal its growth. Its transformation will not go unnoticed.

Cal pins both of my wrists in just one of his hands, freeing his other hand to poke and drill in my armpits. Trey focuses his attention on my lower abdomen with light side to side strokes and I laugh so hard that no sound comes out. His lower belly swipes are making me quiver so much that I think I might pull a muscle. I need to inhale before I faint.

As Trey continues his relentless back and forth across my stomach, his arm bumps against my erection. It takes him a minute to realize what has happened and when he does, he comes to a merciful stop. I am now at full mast and the fabric of my boxer briefs is being tested at the seams. I look at Nico and he’s watching helplessly with bulging eyes.

Trey says, “Cal, hold up a sec. Check this out.” He points at my towering inferno.

Cal stops attacking my armpits and looks at my monster. “Holy shit!”

Here’s the thing. I’m by far the smallest guy here. I’m only 5’ 9”. The others all top 6 feet. I have a 29” inch waist and my pants still droop. My size 10 feet are big on my diminutive frame, but they are still the smallest in the room. All of this is true. But there is one place where I know I am above average. I’ve checked. I’ve Googled and I’ve measured and I know that my 7.5 inches are significantly above average. I’m not “porn star” huge, but on my skinny body, it looks even bigger than it is. I don’t know what these three guys are packing, but I am confident that in this one arena, I have nothing to be ashamed of.

Cal says, “Jesus. What’d you do to him?”

“Nothing really. I didn’t touch… It… I swear! It just appeared out of nowhere. Like David Banner becoming The Hulk.”

What they don’t realize is that all the talking about “it” is only making it stronger. These two big guys being awestruck by my manhood is making my dick swell with pride.

Cal says, “You’re a freaking snake charmer! It’s kind of huge!”

Trey laughs. “Let’s see.” He grapples at the waistband of my underwear and yanks them down to my knees. My penis is first pulled forward, then upon its release from its fabric prison, it snaps back to attention. I feel a splash of precum land on my stomach.

Cal points out, “Hey, check it out. More proof he’s natural. The carpet matches the curtains!”

I do not manscape. There’s never been much point. I don’t get many visitors down south of the equator and yes, my red pubic hair matches the hair on the rest of my completely exposed body.

Cal asks, “Why do they call them ‘redheads’? Isn’t it more orange? Or rust?”

No one answers. Trey asks, “Are you a virgin?”

It takes a second for me to realize that he’s asking me a question. I’ve had sex on two occasions in my twenty-two year life. Both times with girls. Both times were fine. Both times were when I was away at college. Neither time had me as raging hard and turned on as these three guys have me right now. I look at Trey, “No.”

“Ever with a guy?” he asks.

“No.”

“Do you think a guy can make you cum?”

Cal scoffs, “Obviously. He’s about to bust a nut! That thing looks ready to blow.” He laughs at his own pun, “I mean explode.”

Trey smiles, “I’ve gotta find out.” He starts to reach for my Warhammer when Nico’s voice stops him.

“Let me do it,” Nico says.

All three of us look up at Nico, the only person standing.

“Why?” asks Cal. “You’ve been against everything tonight.”

Nico nudges Trey aside, “It’s only just now gotten interesting. It’s my turn to have some fun.”

Trey shrugs then stands and lets Nico take his place straddling my legs. Nico makes eye contact with me. His eyes seem to say both I’m sorry and I’ll try to not hurt you at the same time.

Nico grasps my steel shaft and I gasp. He grips and squeezes and I see fireworks. A glop of precum rolls out of my slit and down onto his hand. He begins to stroke me up and down and I moan and groan. Cal is still pinning my hands down high above head but it’s pretty pointless. I’m not resisting. Every ounce of energy my naked body has left is concentrated in just one location. One 7.5 inch location.

Nico says, “Cal, let go of the man’s hands. Please. He’s not going anywhere. Let him relax.”

Cal does what he’s told. He releases me and stands next to Trey, ready to watch the show. I lower my arms and feeling slowly returns to them. Nico releases my shaft and massages my shoulders and biceps. Then he gently glides his fingers down to my stomach where he caresses me softly. He’s not tickling me. It’s like he’s admiring me. Like a sculpture he’s touching carefully, not wanting to break. Suddenly I get goosebumps everywhere.

Trey says, “Nico, I don’t think he needs any foreplay here. You can see his heartbeat pulsating in his dick. It’s ready.”

He surprises all three of us by placing his hands on the floor, lowering his head and taking me in his mouth. My eyes roll back in my head and I inhale sharply.

Trey yells in protest, “What’s he doing?”

Cal says, “He’s answering your question. Can a guy make him cum? I think that answer is yes. And it’s gonna happen really soon.”

My two previous sexual experiences were both in the traditional missionary position. No oral was involved. This is a new sensation. I’m starting to get lightheaded. The room spins. Nico’s fingers find my scrotum and I quiver. I think he wants to end my humiliation as quickly as possible; he’s going at me with all he’s got. Trey was right – I was already almost there. His tongue tries to pry open my slit driving my glans crazy. Then he slithers that tongue just below the head in a circular motion and maintains that action until he’s confident that he’s activated the launch sequence. I gasp. He continues to swirl. I yelp. He continues to swirl. I slap the floor with my hands. He continues to swirl. My sweaty, smelly toes curl in my bowling shoes. He continues to swirl. My whole body spasms as the first gush splashes the back of his throat. He continues to swirl.

I want to grab the back of his head, but I don’t because of our audience. If I did, what would I do? Would I rip him off of me or would I guide him up and down me? He doesn’t need guiding. His relentless swirling continues as I shoot my second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh and eighth streams into his mouth. Once my pulsing finally slows, he changes tack and slides up and down my length. The crisis is over now but before releasing me, he sucks me clean. It feels like a little kiss as he releases me from captivity.

“What the fuck, Nico?” Trey is pissed. “We wanted to see the geyser erupt.”

Nico shakes his head, “You got what you wanted. A guy made him cum. You saw. What difference does it make how it happened?”

Except it does make a difference. As humiliating as this whole night has been, it would have been way

worse if Nico wasn’t here. With just Trey and Cal they could have robbed the place. They could have

made me figure out the beer tap and got drunker. They could have kept the tickle torture going for hours. They could have roughly jerked me off and left me lying there raw, bruised and covered in my own sticky spunk. Or maybe from the very beginning they just could have decided to beat the shit out of me. Nico couldn’t stop everything from happening but he made the night survivable.

And it seems like he’s the one in charge now. He tells the guys to get dressed – I almost forgot that we were in the middle of Strip Bowling. He doesn’t look at me as they all change from their bowling shoes to their snow boots. He says nothing to me as they put their coats back on and he ushers them out the door. I’m left lying on the floor.

I’ve recovered some strength and I sit up. I’m all alone now. I feel humiliated, used and abandoned. I know I have nothing to be ashamed of. I could have been a musclebound weightlifting freak and I would still have been outnumbered and overpowered. I did nothing wrong. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. This shitty town. I stand, pull up my underwear and go lock the doors.

It takes me half an hour to get dressed and clean the place up. It’s not quite closing time, but fuck it. This night is over. I slot my bowling shoes in the empty size 10 cubby and search for my socks. I can’t find them anywhere. Nor can I find my boots or the book I was reading. Assholes. Why take my boots? They won’t fit any of them. And my book? I’m disappointed that Nico would allow them this final insult. I go to my backpack and pull out my Nike high tops. I sigh. These were for inside, not outside. And I still have no socks. I have to walk home in two feet of snow. The high tops do not lace as high or tie as tight as my snow boots. Snow will get down in there. And with no socks either… It’s hardly better than walking home barefoot. Sigh. I slip my tacky bare feet into my sneakers and pull on my coat.

When I get to the door, I see the same pickup truck again pulling into the parking lot. Shit. What now? Did they remember all of the spots on my body they haven’t tickled yet? The door is locked and there’s no way I’m letting them in. The truck pulls into the same spot it occupied for most of the night. Just the driver’s door opens and Nico steps out alone. He makes his way to the door and sees me standing inches away from him but we’re safely separated by a locked barrier. He smiles at me and I feel a little flutter from deep down inside. But no. I’m mad at him. When he was done doing what he had to do, he left me lying there. Naked and humiliated. He didn’t talk to me. He wouldn’t even look at me. And he let those assholes steal my stuff. How can he be friends with those fuckers?

He waves and shouts, “Can I come in?”

I shake my head.

He says, “It’s just me. I took those assholes home.”

I fold my arms across my chest.

“Pleeeeaaase?”

My resolve breaks. I unlock the door. He enters and quickly locks up behind him. “I have something for you,” he says. “Can we sit down?”

Great. What else could possibly be in store for me? What hell have I not yet experienced? We move over to the row of plastic seats and Nico takes off a backpack I hadn’t notice he was wearing. He unzips it and pulls out my book. “This belongs to you.”

I take it, but still say nothing.

He looks down at my feet. “Hey, you’ve got shoes. Those are some cool kicks. I like them.”

“You can’t have them,” I snap. “They’d do you no good. They’re too small for you. Unless you want to steal them out of spite.”

He looks hurt as his smile falls. He puts a hand on my arm and I feel a sizzle from his touch. “Cody, I’m not here to steal shoes I didn’t know you had. I’m not here to hurt you at all.” He reaches back into his backpack and pulls out my snow boots. “I couldn’t help but notice there were no other cars in the lot. I figured you walked. I wanted to offer you a ride home. And return your stuff.”

“How’d you get it back?” He looks at me and for the first time I notice a flaring red bruise on his jaw. Now I touch his arm.

He scoffs, “You should see the other guy.”

“Why are you friends with them?”

“I’m not, really. Cal is my cousin and I’ve spent the last eight years trying to keep him out of trouble. Trey is Cal’s friend and he tries to get them into trouble.” He picks my right foot up off the floor and sets it in his lap. He works the lace and slides my high top off my foot. “I really do like these kicks. They’re cute. I mean…I like them on you. They look good. You look good.”

“Trey and Cal made high school hell for a lot of guys, but they never targeted me. What made tonight special?”

He reaches in his backpack again and pulls out a pair of socks. “Opportunity. It was nothing you did. They didn’t know you were back in town after four and a half years or that you work at the bowling alley. When you mentioned that you were the only one here tonight, I saw Trey’s eyes light up and I knew I’d have to do damage control.” He puts a sock on my naked right foot and massages me tenderly. It’s nice to have a sock on again. And Nico’s attention and touch are even nicer.

I close my eyes, enjoying the foot rub. But then they pop open. “It was you!” I exclaim.

“What was me?”

“You are why they never bothered me in high school. You steered them away from me. Why?”

He switches to my left foot, removes the shoe, adds a sock and digs gently into my arch. “You seemed like a nice guy. I actually wished we could be friends. That never worked out, but yeah. I kept them clear of you for four years.”

He protected me. Wow. “Based on what? You and I have never spoken to each other before tonight.”

“Based on the fact that your green eyes make my knees buckle and have since the nineth grade. Based on the fact that I always wished we had the same gym class so I could catch a glimpse of you with your shirt off. Based on the fact that you are ridiculously cute, adorable and beautiful.”

I blush. Suddenly it’s hot in here. Needing to look away, I look at my feet. “Those aren’t my socks.”

“I know,” he continues the foot rub. I have no idea what Trey did with yours and he wasn’t up for answering questions after I beat the shit out of him. Did he throw them out? Were they hiding in his pockets to be kept as souvenirs? Who knows. I stopped by my apartment and grabbed a pair of mine.”

Hearing that my feet are in a pair of sexy Nico’s socks makes my spent cock stir back to life. He works my boots onto my socked feet and laces them expertly. “I’m hoping that despite having your boots back, you’ll accept my offer for a ride. It really sucks out there.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” I look him in the eyes, “Can I ask you something?”

He nods.

“Could you tell I always had a big crush on you too?”

He nods again and I blush again.

He tells me about his college years and his job in Marketing with a local company. I tell him about my college years and my failures of the last eight months. Somehow he makes me feel good about it. After all, those events brought me back home and now here we both are. Plus, he admires the fact that I want to write my own novel.

He says, “I have a proposition for you. Move in with me.”

“Huh?”

“Be my roommate.”

I shake my head, “I couldn’t afford it.”

“I’m not looking to split expenses. I don’t need a roommate. I want you.”

“Oh.” I remind him, “We’ve never spoken before tonight.”

He waves a dismissive hand, “Did you know your college roommate before you moved into your dorm?”

“No.”

“People place ads and take strangers in for roommates all the time. You’re no stranger. And I live only a few blocks from here. You can visit your parents whenever and keep this job part-time while you write your novel full-time. We can get to know each other better.”

“I think you’ve had the chance to get pretty acquainted with me tonight.”

He laughs, then apologizes, “Hey, turnabout is only fair play. I am up for any revenge you may want to take on me.” He winks and flashes me his irresistible smile. “I’m sorry about everything tonight, but honestly, I’d love to do some of it again. In a totally kind, controlled and consensual manner, of course.”

My dick pricks up again. We stand and he drops both of our backpacks to the floor. He grabs me and kisses me. I’ve never kissed a boy before. It’s wild. It’s thrilling. I’ve always felt an inexplicable desire for Nico, but I never really thought about it. I never analyzed it and labeled it. Actually, I never understood it. It was just there. It existed and it was undeniable. Whether I wanted to want him or not, I couldn’t help it…I just did. And now with his hands in my hair and his tongue wrestling with mine, my whole body tingles. Is it biology? Is it chemistry? Whatever it is, it feels like the most natural thing in the world. No mental analysis needed. My body knows. This is the right thing. I am physically responding in a way I never have before with any other human on the face of the earth. The right person for me happens to also be a boy. This boy. Nico. My dick casts the deciding vote as it strains against my jeans.

My hands work their way under his snug t-shirt and I can’t believe this isn’t a dream. My fantasy has become my reality. The kiss goes on and we press into each other. It is immediately clear that Nico too is all in. His vote has also been cast. And that casted vote comes in the form of his own erection which is pressing into my hip. I feel goosebumps on his skin where my fingers do an exploratory dance. He giggles and I stop because I don’t want to be the reason the kissing ends. We keep kissing. His tongue that swirled another part of my body to ultimate ecstasy just an hour ago is now swirling against my own tongue. He tastes good, he smells good, he feels good…

We eventually come up air. We both have flushed cheeks. We both have the biggest, stupidest grins on our faces. He picks up both of our backpacks in one hand and takes my hand in his other, lacing our fingers together.

We head out to his truck and I lock up behind us. “Take me home, Nico. To my new home.”

He starts the engine and looks at me, “I hope you’re not tired. You got me all horny and worked up. I have so many plans for you in my bed tonight. We might not get to sleep at all.”

“I might have some plans for you myself,” I say.

He grins, “I was hoping you would.”

His truck cuts through the snow like it’s nothing. As he drives, he asks me, “What’s your hook?”

“What do you mean?”

“For your novel. What’s the first line? How will you hook your reader and make him want to read more?”

I think about that. Eventually I turn to him and say, “How about, It was a dark snowy night but three men found their way to the bowling alley.”

We stop at a red light. He stares at me for a minute and we both bust out laughing.