Date: Thu, 22 Jun 2006 08:02:22 -0700 (PDT)
From: Mark Wild <markwild082@yahoo.com>
Subject: Red Devil Wrestler, pt. 1 (AUTHORITARIAN / HIGH SCHOOL)

Disclaimer:  If you are not yet 18 years of age or if it is illegal to
read materials of this kind where you live, then please stop now. This
story contains descriptions of sexual activity between adolescent boys
and is for adult eyes only.  The acts are consensual and are a result of
their love or lust for one another. This story is completely fiction,
and all names and descriptions (except for the occasional place-name) are
also made up.  Any similarities are purely coincidental.

I would love to hear from you, so negative as well as positive feedback
is always welcome.  Please write: markwild082@yahoo.com


For J.D. Salinger, my favorite writer, although I doubt he'd like it!


Red Devil Wrestler, pt. 1


My mouth was full of toothpaste when I heard the car horn honk.  My
stomach tingled slightly and I heard my mom yell "Assshton!  Come
on---get a move on now!  You're late and Slater's here!"  I spit the
toothpaste out into the sink and yelled, "I'm coming!" looked into the
mirror and winked, "Hehe, you handsome fuck!"  I messed my hair so it
looked just right and checked out my awesome torso, winked at myself
again and grabbed my shirt and pulled it on.  I loosened my belt and
tucked it in and my dick was twitchin' already!  I swear I had to adjust
it just to get myself zipped up!  I mean, it's not like I'm shy or shit,
but we were meeting our girls, and it wouldn't be right to advertise TOO
much when they're around!

   Man, my arms were lookin' good too, and already getting tanned.  All
that time by Slater's pool was really payin' off!  I'll tell ya, between
playin' football in season and workin' out with Slate? I'll tell ya
dudes, it wouldn't be fair for me to steady-date!  I mean, 'cause when I
said "our girls" I didn't mean anyone steady.  More like the girl of the
month, haha, and the goddamn year was too short!  The car honked again,
and my mom yelled too.  "I'm coming!" I yelled down the stairs.  So like
I said, I tucked myself in and grabbed my keys and wallet.  I ran
downstairs and out the door and almost into my mom.

   She was already outside watering plants and said, "You have your
keys?"  "YES," I said.  "Okay. You're on your own for dinner, remember.
I'm going to the movies with Jack and probably won't be home till nine."
"I'll eat the leftovers out of the fridge and drink up all your vodka."
"Don't even try it, Ashton Cooper.  Now kiss me and don't skip school."
"Love you, mom," I said, and kissed her cheek and Slater honked.  "Dude?
Will you stop with your mom like that?  People are gonna talk!"  Mom
aimed the hose at Slater's windshield and he had to duck inside.
"Yeehaw!" he yelled out the window, though.  "You're a heartbreaker, Mrs
C!  Homo come ON---we're gonna be late and we still gotta pick up
Craigger!"

   I rolled my eyes and got in the car and Slater began backing up.  "Be
careful!" mom yelled.  "We will!"  "See you later!"  He was already
flicking the wipers.  "Dude!" he said, "I am so fuckin' horny!"  "Dude!
You're an animal, bro!"  We grinned at each other and Slater yeehawed
again, turned and then spat out the window.  "Ash... I was watchin' some
porno online, an' maaan..." he shook his head.  I pulled my sunglasses
out of my pack like the cool jock dude I was.  "That fucker's gonna fall
off ya, bro!  You're abusin' it too much!"  "Yeah I am, huh?" Slate
agreed.  "Damn right, ya little flit!"  And he laughed and gave me
that mischievous grin I get when I'm talkin' shit.

   Slater and I were like total best buddies, like since we were seven or
eight.  We used to live right down the street from each other, until we
were almost sixteen, then his dad got a big promotion and they moved like
a mile away.  He's some hot-shot lawyer for a big tobacco company here,
and gets paid to lie about how you won't die if you smoke cigarettes and
shit.  We live in Lexington, South Carolina, so I guess we're just good
old boys, and we even wrote a rap song once about some of the shit we've
done!  It didn't win the talent prize but that's cause the judges were
stupid.  The chicks like it though when we do it at parties:  it always
gets us laid!

   A day or two after we'd moved in---now remember we were
like seven---he found me way in the back of our yard, digging by
the bushes.  "My name's Slate,"  he said.  "My name's Ash."  "What you
diggin' for?"  "Quarters."  "I found two dollars last week in a
mailbox."  "I got a coin collection."  "You got a bike?" he said.  "We
could go ridin'," and he showed me all the best hills.  Now of course
we're all grown up and going to State in the fall.  I'm gonna be a
rich CEO and take over my daddy's business.  Slate was gonna be a
gynecologist but now he's not so sure.  "Dude!" I keep telling him, "it's
not all like Babewatch.  There's fat pussy, Slater... and SORES!"  "Eat
my fat wanger!" he always screams, and covers up his ears.  So now he's
leaning towards physical therapy, specializing in girls.

   "Ash, no really, this chick, bro----tiiiiittss!!", and we almost
swiped a car, 'cause he was feeling those boobs in the air instead of
driving, and swerved.  "Dude, you are one sick fuck," I said.  He agreed
and grabbed the wheel. Then he tapped on the side of my head.  "That's
why we're best buddies, bro!  Just wait'll we fuckin' get to STATE!!   I
am ready to TEAR IT UP!!" and he flashed me that strong white grin of his
that always shuts me up.  We'd already put in our applications to room
together and stuff, and just had to coast through the last weeks of
school and work out and party and fuck!  Then we were gonna go work for
my dad, doing grunt work down at his warehouse.  "Ash, we are gonna be so
fuckin' buff, bro, those frats'll be BEGGIN' to pledge us!"

   "Of course they will, bro.  I mean, look at us, huh?  We're fuckin'
grade-A prime!"  Slate grinned back and then grabbed at his dick and
said, "I am so HORNY" again, and the way he was wearing his khakis I
could see he was half boned up.  This was no big fuckin' deal, ya
know? cause we were best buds, like I said, and we were both so oversexed
we were always throwing wood!  Plus, of course, we double-dated, and with
all that time in the lockers? we knew all about each other's dicks like
we knew each other's shoe size!  It was always funny though, hanging
around, watching the chicks check him out.  He'd flash me that grin and
stroll over to flirt and say, "Don't wait up for me, sport!"  This was
always funny as shit, like I was doing without!  We'd hook up later and
study and rate 'em on who had the best tits and mouth.

   The thing is I'm really not bragging either, 'cause physically we were
the tops.  Two healthy boys who love sports and guitars and hot girls and
old cars and, oh---sports!  Some of the neighbors shake their heads, but
you know how old people are.  I mean, I KNOW it sucks to get old---but
that's why ya gotta fuck NOW!  Slate and I were doing our best, and the
chicks kept putting out, so we just kept hoping we'd make it to State
before the supply here ran out!  The cool thing was that, talking
physically now, we weren't at all alike:  I was your typical blue-eyed
blond and Slate was the darker type.  So for all you horny chicks out
there, here's a brief description.  Feel free to drop me a line (with a
pic!) if you need more information!   :-))

   I'll start with myself, 'cause actually I'm a little bit
better-looking!  I got this close-cropped straw-blond hair and eyes like
pools of water!  I wear it short 'cause it's easier when you're in and
out of your helmet, and doesn't look fucked up when you've worn your
baseball cap all day.  It kinda sticks up in a cowlick in front, which
drives me crazy, though.  Slater says that's because I'm always sucking
too much dick, and it gets mashed up in the other dude's pubes, but he's
always talkin' that shit.  He's just jealous 'cause blonds have more fun,
and get way better head! 'cause I'm blond all over, my pits and trail and
bush and both my legs!  I'm pretty smooth on my chest so far, just some
stray hairs around my nipples, but that's kind of cool because, being
smooth... you can better see my muscles!  And Slate wasn't joking:  we
were buffed up already, from all the sports we played.  I played football
and Slater wrestled, and baseball and lifting weights.

   So here's the deal, I stood six one and weighed 185.  On the field I
was the back they depended on for the drives.  I got some impressive
yearbook stats, and our school finally got with the program, so now you
can check out the team online---just google Red Devil Football!  MAYBE by
the time you read this they'll have the cheerleaders up.  They dress up
all in red and white, like little angels---NOT!!  All the sports teams
share the same name, even girls' basketball, so I'm a crazy football
jock, and Slater's a Red Devil wrestler.  He like I said has way black
hair, and really smoky eyes, and he's so fuckin' solid you
sometimes forget that I got him two inches in height.  He stands five
eleven and won the division finals last year in his class, and if you
could see him stalking the mat you'd know what I'm talking about!  He
sweats more than ME and that singlet of his can only, well, stretch so
FAR.  I'd hate to be the dude that had to go up against HIM, for sure!

   I mean, WE wrestled all the time, and tossed the ball around weekends,
but that was two buddies fuckin' around, and not like competition.  In
fact, Coach Brown used to say we were like two halves of the perfect
jock, but Slate thought Brown was a secret flit who got off on sniffing
socks.  "Real funky wet ones, Ash," he'd say and wiggle his stinking
feet, and I had to agree that only a perv would get off on shit like
that!  Still, I'd seen Brown's wife a few times, and she was pretty fat.
Maybe the socks weren't as bad as the smell of her menopausal snatch!  I
mentioned that to Slater once, but he was unimpressed.  "Dude, he's a
perv, bro.  Bigger than you.  You got any porn I ain't seen yet?"  I
thought about that as I sat in the car watching Slater squeeze his dick.
Of COURSE I'm a perv, I thought---big fuckin' deal! and I wasn't afraid
to admit it.  Still, like I see it God wouldn'a made poon if he didn't
want a dude to hit it!

   I was about to mention that fact, AGAIN, when Slate turned a corner
sharp, and honked and Craigger strolled out of his house and over the
lawn to the car.  "Jesus, dudes, about fuckin' time.  I was thinkin' I'd
have to bike it."  "Sorry, bro.  The homo here was kissing up his
momma."  "Jesus, Ash, that's fucked up, bro," Craig offered, getting in.
"I know she's a total milf and all, but fuck bro, she's your KIN!"
"Really, bro," Slater looked in the rear-view.  "She was outside watering
plants.  You could even see her bra a bit where her blouse had gotten
wet!"  "JEEZ you guys, will ya STOP it?  Damn!"  Craig laughed.  "Relax,
ya muck.  It's not YOUR fault that your mom's a babe---- Slow down!
---You assholes SUUUUUCKKKKK!!!!"  He pulled his head back into the car
and we sped away from the intersection.  He turned around and gave 'em
the finger in case they hadn't heard him!

   Slater was laughing and stepped on the gas and I turned the music up,
and just like THE MAN we tooled off to school and just didn't give a
fuck!!  Craigger pulled out a joint from his pack and we all of us did
three hits.  "Besides, bro, who got drunk last month and was hittin' on
Slater's sis?"  Slater looked over and narrowed his eyes:  "And wanted to
fuck her tits."  Actually, that made me blush a bit and my underwear
feel, uh, constricted?  Okay, so maybe that wasn't so cool, but she WAS a
foxy chick.  And anyway after two years at that girls' school you knew
she was missin' the dick!  "I'm sorry, bro," I looked contrite.  "But she
wanted it, bro---real bad.  In FACT she said this beauty was even bigger
than your dad's!"  Slate and Craigger groaned and Slater slapped my head
again, and that's how we shot the shit till we got to the parking lot and
pulled in.

   Man, it was early May and some jet trails cut across the sky, and the
sky itself was so blue that NObody wanted to be inside.  The sun was warm
and a breeze was blowing in from somewhere sweet, and you could smell the
magnolias from the house across the street.  Man, it was GREAT to be
alive, even in SPITE of school, and having a buddy like Slater to share
it with was verrrry cool.  Me and Craig and Jake and Bren were also total
buds, but Slater and I were the tightest, ya know?  We had this crazy
bond.  Craig wrestles too, on the squad with Slate, and Bren---he's a
gymnast---and buff?... we always kid 'im that he should call Playgirl to
help the young ladies get off!  I tell ya, dudes, I bet those chicks got
wet when WE drove by!  Slater parked and stretched and swore and fiddled
with his fly.  Craigger handed us sticks of gum to cover up the pot, and
turned to the school and grabbed his crotch when the ten-minute bell went
off.

   "Thanks bro," Craigger said while Slater checked and locked the car.
"I'm gonna bolt.  I gotta find Jimmy.  I still owe that loser ten
dollars."  "Later bro.  If you see Ken Watson tell that fucker he
sucks."  "Will do.  Catch you at lunchtime maybe?..."  "Can't.  Us two
got plans."  "What kinda plans?"  Slater lowered his voice.
"Supplies..."  Craigger grinned.  "Good deal.  Well, don't forget who
loves ya bro!"  "Catch ya later, queer!"  Craig's left wrist went
suddenly limp.  "They don't know what they're missin'!"  "Stop it, bro.
You're getting the homo here all bonered up!"  "Eat me, Slate," I tossed
right back.  "Eat yerself, ya fuck!"  Craigger rolled his eyes and took
off, leaving us alone.  "Admit it, bro.  You know you got the secret hots
for my bone."

   So I guess you can see how tight we were, goin' back and forth like
that.  I didn't even answer him, just laughed and hitched up my pack.
Slate grinned back and stretched his muscled chest and enjoyed
the breeze.  "Don't you worry though, Ash old buddy.  Your secret's safe
with me!"  I was about to shoot off something smart when his arm went
around my neck.  "The least I can do for you keepin' quiet when I had the
crabs last month..."  I suddenly grinned, thinking back to last month
and how I laughed while Slater itched:  "Oh my god, bro, what if I picked
up somethin' weird from the bitch?"  As luck would have it this happened
the week after both of us turned eighteen, and we drove to the public
clinic that weekend and made him go in and get screened.  "JUST tell 'em
you was drunk-dickin' some skank," I encouraged him in the car.  "It's
probably just Ebola virus or somethin'."  "Hardy har har."  It was funny
as shit, too, when he came out with that little bag in his hand.  "What
chu got, bro?"  "Crab-killer, bro."  We laughed.  "Uh... this won't get
around?"  "Buddy!"  I acted shocked as shit.  "You know me better than
that."  And I didn't tell no one---but I did make him buy me a steak when
we went to Outback!

   "Jesus, dude.  That was some fuckin' birthday party we had."  We
laughed.  "I make an ass of myself with your sister and you end up
catching the crabs!"  "Jesus, bro!  Wudja keep it down?  ---Fuck man, we
deserved it, Ash!  I just need to start keeping my eye on ya when you go
out and get smashed!"  "Dude."  I looked reformed.  "Remember.  When we
get to State we're settlin' down."  "That's right.  And studyin' every
weekend when there's no pussy around."  I'm not quite sure who lost
it first, but in no time we both went off.  He was hanging and banging my
chest with his fist and ---"Shit!  There's Julie Roth!"  We both of us
settled down real quick, 'cause she was the babe of babes, and very
intellectual, too, besides havin' perfect tits.  She of course was going
North to college in the fall, and we ambled by and nodded hello like the
supercool jocks we were.  She smiled back and flipped her hair and that
made my fishin' pole twitch.  And when we could finally breathe
again Slate said, "I'd be HER bitch!"

   "Jesus, Slate.  She'd tie you up, dude, and smother your face with her
twat!"  Slater grinned and said, "FUCK yeah!!  That would be verrrrry
hot."  "She'd turn you into her boy-toy, bro!"  "Ash!  Wouldn't that be
SWEET?"  We shook our heads.  "And make you wear her panties till you
leak!"

   Damn!  That last part just slipped out, before I knew what I said.
Slater looked askance and straightened up and shook his head.  "Don't
know as I'd wanna go THAT far, bro. I think I'd stop with just sniffin'
'em.  You can do the weird modeling shit after the chicks get done with
'em."  He'd leaned in closer and lowered his voice so no one else could
hear.  "Like I said, bro, you're secret's safe with me, ya little
queer."  I knew I shoulda shot something back, like "Queer on this, ya
muck!" but something in the tone of his voice just made me keep my mouth
shut.  Fortunately just then we heard a girl's voice calling "Ashton!"
and the jocks looked up as we ambled over to May and April Simpson.
"How's my girl?" I kissed May's forehead and looked her over twice.
"God, it's such a beautiful DAY!" she said.  "Mmmm you smell nice..."
She laughed and pushed against my chest, showing off for her sis, then
lifted her arms and fixed her hair and said, "It's Aramis."

   Slater was looking politely bored, but maybe that was the pot.  April
was trying to make conversation, and even though she's a fox, she and
Slater had already done it, I think last spring or summer:  "Twice as
cute as her sister, bro, and trust me, twice as dumber."  April said
something about Brad Pitt and that Angelina Jolie, who you gotta admit is
hot as hell---hehe, she could adopt ME!  Anyway Slater was totally bored,
and probably very jealous, standing there watching his best fuckin' buddy
getting my chick's attention!  There's nothing like being a football star
for pulling in the snatch---beSIDES that Weapon of Mass Destruction I got
goin' on in my pants!

   Anyway just then he saw Carrie Lancer, his girl, coming out of the
school.  He said, "Excuse," and walked on over and kissed her lips real
cool.  Then he stood while May said something sweet about my hair, and
listened while Carrie leaned up and whispered something in his ear.
He listened then nodded, she smiled and hugged him all around the neck,
kissed him again and turned around and went back up the steps.  Man, I
know Slate's body language, and his was like ---The FUCK?  We looked at
each other as he walked back over and April asked, "What's up?"  "Aww,"
Slate said, with his hands in his pockets, "she's feelin', uh, woozy down
there...  She wants to go pass by the nurse and get a fresh tam... pon,
and maybe lay down..."  "Awww, poor Carrie," they both of them said and I
said, "That bites it, Slate."  Slater shrugged back and looked into the
sky, like This is some kind of JOKE?

   He kicked at his backpack and clenched his fists and April said, "Awww
Slate.  It's not her fault, that's just the way it is with girls some
days."  "It's part of our plumbing," May laughed and I asked, "Can we
change the subject, please?"  Slater rubbed his hair with his hand and
May whispered, "Mine's next week..."  Slater was looking good though,
standing there, even if he was pissed.  You couldn't miss the muscles in
his arms and in his chest.  His legs looked fuckin' solid too,
even through his Dockers ---but you need to see him at a meet to
appreciate THOSE motherfuckers!  Fuck, when you see him crouched down and
circling out there on the mats? it's like sometimes you wonder how far
his singlet will stretch till it snaps!  In fact, his legs are the ONLY
thing I'll give him better than me ---I mean I got tree-trunk football
legs, but his make mine look skinny!

   Other than that, though, like I said, we were pretty evenly matched
---just that couple inches' difference in our height and crotch.  So
standing there it was hard not to grin pretty big and feel real cool,
chick on your arm and knowing you're one of the hottest jocks in school!

                  "Ladies!  Listen up!  You got Red Devils in the house!"
                       "MC Slate!"
                                    "And Coop Dogg!"
                   "Two o' those bad boys your momma's all warned you
about!"
                              "MC Slate right here!"
                                                   "---More beer!!"
                                            "And Coop the ladies' friend!
ya hear?"
                   "Thinkin' like Lincoln!"
                                         "And stirrin' SHIT like Teddy
Roosevelt!"

Of course that sounds better when we have our mics and are doing our
Beastie Boys moves as well ---I JUST threw it in here so you could see we
really WERE hot as hell!  Anyway then the damn bell goes off and May
takes my hand off her ass.  "Is Ashton Cooper going to be a gentleman
and walk his girlfriend to class?"

   "Oh.  Uh, yeah," I said, and flashed a "sorry" look at Slater.  "See
you in homeroom, bro," he said.  "Gotcha.  Later, 'gator."  "Come on,
April," Slater said, "let's get your butt inside."  She laughed.  "It
looks okay today, Slate?"  He grinned.  "Your ass looks fine."  We ambled
off in different directions and I got May off to her class.  "I'll talk
to you later and call you tonight," I said.  "Ashton?  What about
lunch?"  "I told ya, May, got plans with Slater."  She flicked her hair.
"You two."  I lowered my voice.  "We're trying to find some weed.  I told
you, boo."  She fingered my chest.  "I know.  It's just that...you
know... last night was so nice..."  "If we get lucky we'll get
together at lunch tomorrow, I promise."  She pouted a little... but
smiled sweet when I carefully smoothed her blouse!

   So I headed back to class and thought what a bitch it was for Slate.
I mean I know how it is for a dude when he's horned and has to wait.
He'd probably be grouchy as shit and unresponsive and kicking chairs.  I
mean it sucks to have to admit it, but sometimes life ain't fair!   So I
figured I'd just play it down, ya know? like May didn't mean too much.
I'd be one of those magnaminous jocks who wasn't always gloating and
stuff.  In fact ---well, you know how it is when a dude starts feelin'
pretty full of himself:  he pumps himself up and starts thinkin' he
could'a won the game all by himself!  And shit, me and Slate were
mean mother-fucks, too! ---just modern suburban ones.  Dudes!  We were
down with our homies and bitches.  Dudes, we'd seen a gun.  So I was
gonna be totally cool and just talk cars and sports, and then Slate
wouldn't be depressed and shit.  Jesus, was I a dork.

   I mean I got to class and there was Slate hangin' tight with Bren.
Which was cool and all but he fuckin' acted like he didn't even see me
come in!  So I fuckin' said, "Yo guys," and Slate said, "Great, the
homo's here."  "Eat my dick, bro.  Hey Bren."  "Hey bro.  When did you
turn queer?"  Slater laughed and slapped Bren's back and continued on
with his story, about some chick he supposedly met online named Lynne and
her sister Laurie.  The bell went off and the substitute teacher we had
started taking roll, and from Ashton Cooper to Corey Slater there was
NObody half as cool.  I sat at my desk with my legs stretched out and
fucked with Hal's chair in front of me, and when he turned 'round and
said, "Knock it off, will ya?" I flipped him the bird ---accidentally!
Principal Stoneder (whose name we loved for obvious reasons, haha) came
on the com with the morning announcements, and all o' the blah blah
blah...

   My mind started wandering, actually, so I wasn't much paying
attention.  With two weeks of school left I didn't much care about half
the things he mentioned.  I looked out the window and saw some kids
running late across the lawn, and when I looked at Slater he was doodling
something, and yawned.  I don't know, I watched him scribble and the
muscles move in his arm, and his mouth hung open a little and I started
feeling warm.  It was like the neck of my tshirt was cutting my air all
off and shit, and my belt was too tight and my briefs were all twisted
wrong around my dick.  I tried to scrooch around in my seat and get
myself more comfortable.  Just two fuckin' weeks, I thought, two more
weeks and then I'm done with highschool.  I thought about how Coach Brown
had told us that things would be different at State:  we wouldn't be top
dog hotdogs no more, so we'd better wise up and behave.  Slater had
laughed and said, "Yeah, right" like the cock-sure jock he was, and Brown
shook his head and said Slate was a wise-ass, but that's just how Slate
was.

   So I got through civics and pre-calc okay and was tooling through the
morning, and actually almost got through third period before I was
feelin' horny.  At least I had a break from Slater, 'cause he didn't have
that class, and after him calling me queer all morning I knew he'd just
smirk and laugh.  We hooked up in the hallway though, with Craig and shot
some shit, and when he left he passed me a note.  It said, "You hungry
yet?"  I watched his cocky ass move off and thought, You're full of crap,
but then he turned and did that dirty move that makes me laugh.  He and
Craigger walked away and I looked at their muscled backs, and that made
me kind of flex myself ---FUCK I loved bein' a jock!

   Of COURSE once Slate reminded me my stomach started growling.
All I'd had for breakfast was some juice and half a Pop-Tart.  I mean I
usually skip meals just fine, especially in season for training, but now
it was like since he brought it up, I felt like I was starving!
Fortunately I remembered I had an Almond Joy in my pack, and that was
okay for the sugar rush but I was like havin' a Shack Attack!  Dudes!
It's like when your clock goes off and they're playing a lame-ass song,
you know like Kansas or Jewel or someone, or something by Elton John.
And hard as you try you can't get that damn song out of your head all
day:  so soon as Slater brought up lunch I was ITCHIN' to get away.

   I even started wondering maybe if Craig would tag along, 'cause he and
Slate were pretty tight buds, too, plus he was wicked strong.  Craig was
five pounds lighter than Slate, but maybe even solider, and you just knew
if they hadn't been buds they'd be ferocious rivals.  They'd even had a
couple knockdown dragouts through the years, over who wrestled better, or
who was stronger, or who called WHO a queer?  Yeah, dudes, crazy shit
like that, but that's just how jocks ARE, right?  Just 'cause a dude is
your total best bud doesn't mean that you sometimes don't fight.

   So there I was in biology class, hungry, and thirsty, too!, watchin'
the little hand sit on the twelve and the big hand creep down on the
two.  The bell went off and I hadn't learned one single thing about
mitosis.  Nothing sunk in, it was like my brain was impermeable to
osmosis!  Yeah, so bite me, I got a way with words.  Like Slater says,
"---Yo!  Talk to Coop, dudes!  He knows ALL the diff'rent words for dykes
and lezbos!"  And more than once I had to read their papers and correct
'em and shit.  In FACT Slater says that's what tipped him off that I was
a secret flit!

   So I found May quick and kissed her cheek and whispered she made me
horny.  I told her I'd prob'ly be thinkin' of her when, uh, I woke up in
the morning!  She told me she was gonna go see Harry Potter that night
with April, and I groaned inside 'cause that meant tomorrow
morning I'd get an earful.  Then I went to piss real quick and found
Slater near his locker.  "Hey Heckle."  "Hey Jeckle."  Both of us
grinned.  DAMN we were cool motherfuckers!  "What's on the menu, bro?"
Slater grinned back.   "How's my big weenie sound, Asher?"  "Hey dude,
get real, I am hungry as fuck.  I need something like waaaay more
substantial."

   Slater faked left quick and caught me offguard with a slap to my cheek
from the right.  "See bro, that pussy's all makin' you soft, man!"  I
recovered ---and said he was right!  We laughed and high-fived 'cause we
knew it meant nothing, that Slate was just keepin' in practice.  I
grabbed my own crotch at him, though, and shot back, "If you're hungry
though, bro, you can eat this!"  Back and forth and out to the car and
pulling out of the lot.  A couple quick stop signs and then one left
turn, and that's when the volume went UP.  "What about Ralley's, bro?"
"Slate!  Come on.  You know Ralley's makes me shit."  "Oh.  Oh yeah.  I
forgot.  Sorry, bro."  And he wrinkled his nose up a bit.

   So we pulled into the Snack Shack and honked the horn and walked up to
the counter.  They had this dude who was a homo who worked there and he
came over to help us.  Slater scratched his stomach and stretched
and ordered two Burger Supremos.  And Slater you know calls everyone
queer, but this dude was really a homo.  His eyes went funny like he
couldn't stop lookin' and starin' at Slater's muscles, and I swore he
blushed when Slate leaned over and told him to hold the mustard!  He gave
me this shit-eating grin when the queer turned away for our cokes and our
fries, and puckered up his lips a bit and winked and rolled his eyes.
The funny thing was that the dude looked just like a normal dude, ya
know?  You'd never like think he'd be one of those dudes who would be
into dicks like a homo.  "You never can tell, bro," Slater would say,
when he was being thoughtful.  "This nurse in Penthouse Letters, bro,
says there's all kinds of dudes in the closet."  "Well, I don't know
about ME, bro, but you got that dude bustin' down his closet DOOR!"  And
we laughed when Slater showed him his ass when he picked up his comb off
the floor!

   So we tooled down Pullman and Slater passed me his phone and made me
dial.  He made me pass him an onion ring, too.  "It's Slater.  SLATER,
Kyle."  He rolled his eyes like jeez he's fucked up.  "We're right around
the corner....  Yeah, bro, cool but we're just on our lunch break.   This
time is business not social."  Kyle lived behind a hardware store on
Sumter Parkway; we pulled in back and he waved from his window and opened
his door and said, "Hey."  "Let me go in myself, okay?" I said that was
cool with me.  I got in my wallet and handed him forty.  "Watch for the
shake and the seeds."  "Gotcha, bro."  Slater hopped on out and I sat
there standin' lookout.  You never knew when the undercover dudes were
gonna move in and jump out.  Slater had taken the keys, too ---FUCK!!
I'd NEVER get away!  They'd gun me down and spit on my corpse and tell
lots of lies to May!  My mom would cry then go to Aruba and my dad would
shake his head.  He'd blame himself 'cause his son had gone bad:  "The
drugs must've fucked up his head!"...

   "JESUS, dude!"  I jumped.  "You got salt all on my seat, ya muck!"
Slater hopped in and looked at my face. "You with me buddy, or what?"  I
goofed a little.  "I was daydreamin', bro."  "Thinkin' about my dick?"
---"JEEzus dude!..."  "Alright, alright!  Don't be pitchin' a fit."  He
adjusted his nuts and then dug in his pockets and pulled out three bags
of real weed.  "You and me, bro, and one for Craigger ---he gets the one
with the seeds!"  I opened one up and gave it a sniff and said, "Mmmm...
nice and sticky..." and that made Slater slap on the dashboard:  "Just
like a bitch lickin' dicky!"  I groaned and said, " 'Cause her pussy-lips
swell when she smells that sweet cannabis..."  "And her titties get
bigger and... uh, umm, DAMN!" and he dropped the line and lost it.  He
gave me this face like "sorry, bro" and reached for a leftover fry, and
the craziest shiver went through me weird when his finger brushed my
thigh.

   I looked at the clock on the dashboard and he saw me do it and grinned
real wide.  "We still got forty minutes, bro.  ...Wanna go for a ride?"
I nodded ...sure and Slater said, "There's papers in my pack," and I
turned around in my seat and started digging through his shit in back.  I
found some E-Z Widers and a mag and started rolling, and five minutes
later we pulled in back of this abandoned building.  It used to belong to
a furniture store that my dad's bigger chain bought out, and we had spent
two months of weekends cleaning that baby out.  Of course we
still accidentally had a key we had made for the lock, and it was our
secret place we'd go to hang out and drink beer and smoke pot.  We'd even
stashed a couple chairs and a mattress and a table --the place was almost
liveable haha, except that it didn't have cable.

   Slate stopped the car.  "You got the key?"  I nodded and then got
out.  I could feel him close behind me while I got the door unlocked.
The place smelled damp and we went upstairs to our room and cracked a
window.  Slater sat down and pulled off his shirt.  "Aww yeah.  Dessert
time, homo!"  I knew he was totally fuckin' with me, 'cause we still
hadn't lit up the joint, but he stretched out his legs and flexed his
arms and... yeah, I was gettin' his point.  There in that quiet room he
was like transformed into an object:  not quite Slate, just a hot muscled
jock who needed his muscles worshipped.

   My mouth went dry when he leaned over to me and lit the joint with his
lighter:  it made his forearm muscles ripple and the breath in my chest
get tighter.  He watched me inhale and laughed when my face turned all
red and I started to cough.  He ran his big hand all up over his chest
and kicked his sneakers off.  He waited till I settled down and handed
the joint back to him, then coughed himself.  "Goddamn that's harsh..."
"Yeah, bro, Mexican..."

   A couple hits later we both were buzzed and my mind drifted
off again.  I thought how those muscled legs looked when Slater was
walkin' around the gym.  He saw me lookin' and let his hand fall slowly
down over his crotch, narrowed his eyes like he knew how it was... and
taking it up a notch.  "You done talkin' shit, Ash?"  I nodded yeah.
"Then come here, bro.  It's time for dessert."  And I watched him pull
his zipper down and that made my own cock jerk.  Through the window I
heard the sound of car horns down the block, got on my knees, and for the
very fourth time, prepared to suck Slater's cock....



to be continued...