Date: Tue, 12 Feb 2002 07:49:57 +0000
From: Nathan Savage <savagewriter@hotmail.com>
Subject: Chad in the Pool House

Early in the summer of my sixteenth year, I was offered my first true taste
of freedom. My older brother had taken an internship in Montreal, and
though I had gotten my license only two months before, my parents agreed to
let me use his car on a trial basis. The borders of my world thus exploded
-- I remember taking distinct pleasure in such insignificant things. The
quick dash for fast food, the choice to attend any party I wanted, I was
royalty to my friends, most of who lacked a car (or in many cases their
parent's trust).

On those summer mornings, I had tennis practice, after which I'd throw on
some clean clothes and fly down to the deli I worked at with some friends.
Though we did nothing but throw sandwiches together and punch a cash
register, we were as kings -- money in the pocket, transportation, and warm
nights open to exploration.

Chad and I had been acquaintances since his move to our town a year
earlier.  His parents had separated following the disclosure of his
father's affair with a work assistant, and his mother, figuring a change in
scenery was in order, moved her son out of Montreal to the country. Chad
had acclimated slowly, as I suppose life in our town offered none of the
spontaneity and excitement of bohemian Montreal.  He had joined the tennis
team in the Spring, though, and as the season passed we became closer
friends. It was through me, in fact, that he got the job at the deli for
the summer. Chad was a talented player, playing second only to me, and in
time we had developed quite a rivalry.

I must admit that I am in general oblivious to the world around me. At the
time Chad and I started hanging out I had yet to have a girlfriend -- my
experience was limited to a few kisses and one awkward exploration of
another girl's breasts the first night I ever got drunk. I now distinctly
remember jerking off to thoughts of guys (which, as anyone, I did
voraciously at that age, twice, three times a day on average), however it
simply never entered my mind that this suggested a preference one way or
another. Sometimes I envy the memory of such innocence, as by now I've
suffered through enough years of intellectualizing sexuality and diversity
to turn back on it all. That summer, however, every new thing that came my
way I accepted and cherished as nothing other than pure living.

Lest I bore you with semantics, however, I remember Chad popping up in my
fantasies with greater and greater frequency as the Spring went on. He had
the craziest bushy red hair, tons of freckles, and blue eyes alive with
mischief. Sexiest freckles one can imagine, though, as the body they dotted
was firm, slim, and on the cusp of adulthood. His movements were smooth on
the court, and towards the warmer end of the season his shirt came off
within minutes of our afternoon practices. As the two top players on the
team, we played each other almost daily, and our coach often left us to
tend to the other players. I was more built and a bit broader than Chad,
but there was a wiry toughness to his frame with which I couldn't
compare. My hair is jet-black and straight as possible, and the trail of
hair that ran below my bellybutton was no different. Chad's chest was
completely smooth, the only hair I ever saw above his waist and below his
head was under his arms, the same bright red but only a small, barely
discernable clump.

I was in the perfect position to admire him, as though I was typically shy
and introverted I was also the star player, and this slight dominance
seemed to make whatever eccentricities acceptable to the others. Chad had a
crisp smile, and was funny and lighthearted on the court. He had a wit that
far outpaced mine, and made a huge number of jokes at my expense. Little
did he know that I spent the majority of the nights following practices
picturing him nude in the showers, on his knees, his mouth wrapped around
the dick I stroked under the tented sheet in my bedroom. As I said, though,
I had no qualms about this, and just ran with what I felt.

After I brought him on to work at the deli, Chad began hanging out with me
and the other two friends I had there. At work each day we'd typically
learn of what was going on that night, which meant either a party at the
lake, bowling, or watching movies. Chad seemed to meet everyone in town
within weeks, and became almost effortlessly popular. His childhood in
Montreal, the fact that both of his parents were artists, the
already-mentioned wit and charm -- practically every girl in town seemed
to eye him with desire. He did accept some offers mostly late at night
after six or seven beers, though nothing ever seemed to materialize. I
spent most of these parties rowing on the lake or in a corner with a friend
or two, but always began and ended with Chad, who was terribly fair and I
remained his closest friend in town.

After one of such parties, which ended far later than my curfew, I was able
to stay out by accepting an offer to stay at Chad's. Chad had no curfew,
and I soon understood why. We got back to his house, exhausted, to find his
mother sitting around a table with several friends, talking and drinking
wine. Taken aback by this, given my proper, starch protestant upbringing, I
expected awkwardness.  Chad and his mom, however, treated each other with a
friendliness I had never known with my parents, and I immediately realized
that she was open with him, cool, liberal -- I was instantly hooked.
Minutes later, Chad stripped to boxers in his room, hopped in bed, and
invited me to do the same. Nervous, I said I'd rather sleep on the couch at
the other side of the room. He shrugged, and was asleep in moments, giving
me enough time to quietly bring myself to orgasm with my eyes fixed across
the dark room on his sleeping face.

After this, I began spending as much time as possible at Chad's house. I
was intoxicated by how openly they shared a house, as we were free to do
what we pleased (including, later on that summer, smoking weed we found in
one of her drawers).  Chad and I began playing tennis every Saturday, our
only day off from the deli. I'd pick him up late in the morning, we'd play
four or five sets, and then return to his house for a swim. There was an
in-ground pool behind his house, with a small pool house that sat between
it and the forest that bordered the property. The more time I spent at his
house, the more I saw how comfortable Chad was with his body -- after
running from the car to the pool house, he would effortlessly strip off his
sweaty clothes, throw on a suit, and be in the water by the time I had only
sheepishly peeled off my shirt. He didn't even turn away from me, and I
came to look forward to seeing his adolescent penis, plump and circumcised
in a sea of bright red pubic hair. My favorite of his features was his
midsection- his stomach was flat and barely suggestive of abs popping
through, and his waist cut inward from his hipbones, visible under his
skin. Around back, he had those incredibly tempting dimples right above his
ass, which was small and round.

On the third or fourth Saturday of our ritual, Chad and I lounged in the
sun after a raucous swim. I remember this vividly. We were talking about
random things, when Chad suddenly blurted out, `man, I am so horny these
days. Like every moment, you know?' I had no idea what to say. He
continued, `you the same, man? I mean I just don't know what to do with
myself.' I finally replied, though stunned by his frankness.

`Yeah, completely, all the time,' I said. I looked over at him, and along
the path to his face I saw a tent in his swimsuit. He was half hard, right
there next to me, his legs still spread open as if totally comfortable. He
saw that I looked at his crotch, and looked down as well, saying
flippantly, `yeah, see what I mean? All the time.'

I could see the outline of his partial erection perfectly through the wet
orange cloth. I felt a whir in my own genitals, and took a long, erratic,
nervous breath in.  Chad was unfettered, though, and his eyes lit up. `Hey,
let me show you something. Check this out,' he said as he got up, his dick
bobbing as he walked over to the pool house. I followed him, shy about my
own semi-hardness, into the pool house. Upon entering the pool house, Chad
closed the door and went over to the closet. The room had a bench, a rack
to hang clothes and towels on, and an old couch that sat in front of a
stereo and a tiny television set. Chad opened the closet near the couch,
fished for something on tiptoes, and came down with several magazines in
his hands.

He looked up at me, showing the only uncertainty I had seen to that point,
and held the magazines out to me. `I know it's pathetic, but ever seen one
of these?'  They were porno mags, of course, Hustler and Penthouse and some
raunchy French ones from Montreal -- and indeed I hadn't ever seen one
before, and told Chad this.

`Well, I don't know, they were my Dad's. They're good for, you know,
jacking off.'

I remained silent, and could tell Chad thought for sure that I'd judged
him.

`I'm sorry, man, forget it,' he said, `I'm just weird.'

I didn't want this to stop, and desperation kicked a phrase out of my head.
`No, not at all, it's cool; I jerk off all the time. Never seen one of
these though, let me see.'  Chad smiled, relieved, and handed me one of the
raunchy French magazines. We sat on the bench next to each other, and I
opened the magazine. The memory of seeing those first pictures is so fresh
for me, they weren't particularly interesting, mostly vaginas and the
random intercourse pics, but the situation itself was intensely, vividly
erotic. We sat and giggled like children at the photos, and I turned the
pages only to find another source for laughter on the following page. At
one point, Chad said, `wait, check this out, this is messed up.' He leaned
over to his right away from me to pick up another magazine, at which time I
saw how tight his suit was against his fully hard cock. My full harness was
hidden under the magazine, but Chad's was there for my viewing.

He picked up the magazine, flipped through it, and got to a page with a
story and some pictures. The pages around it were sort of partially stuck
together, and as he pulled them apart he looked at me and smirked
sheepishly. He began reading the story out loud, about a guy who loses his
virginity at a high school dance, and while reading Chad moved his hand
several times to his crotch, adjusting his huge erection. When he got to
the end of the story, I seemed close to fainting.  He dropped the magazine
on the floor, threw his head back, closed his eyes, and let out a breath.
`Shit, man, see what I mean?' He said, turning his head and fixing his gaze
on mine. I smiled, nodding a bit, completely floored.

`Man, I'm gonna have to jerk off, or I'll be crazy,' he said desperately.
I immediately started to make like I was leaving, and was trying to think
of a way to react to what he said, when he stopped me dead in my tracks.
`Do you want to jerk off? I mean, it's no big deal, I don't think. We could
just, I mean, it looks like neither of us could even stand up straight
right now, anyway.'

His joke broke the silence, and I let out a breath of temporary relief. I
settled back on to the bench, and I remembering thinking how comforting it
was that Chad was nervous too, stumbling around his words. Had I been doing
the talking, I'd surely have sounded the same.

I looked at him and let a few words tumble out of my confused mind. `So,
you mean, just right here?'

`Oh, um, yeah, why not? I'll lock the door. My mom's in the house anyway.'
Hell, I thought, she probably wouldn't even care. Chad got up, hunched to
allow his member comfort, and locked the door. He turned to me, smiled
self-consciously, and started undoing his swimsuit ties. I took this as my
cue, but because I was wearing athletic shorts with an elastic waist, I
wasn't sure what to do.  Hesitating, I watched Chad undo his ties, loosen
the waistband, and push his suit down about a foot, letting his swollen
dick pop out from the constraint. He sat down on the bench, his leg
brushing mine, and looked at me expectantly. Left without any other choice,
I shuffled my ass up a bit on the bench, grabbed my waistband, and pulled
it down to my knees while still sitting. There we both sat, our erections
standing at attention, silent.

Chad glanced at my dick quickly, then at my face, flashing the same fast,
shrugging grin, and moved his right hand down to his cock. Left-handed, I
did the same, and we both began stroking our dicks slowly. My hands
shaking, I closed my eyes as if to feign a safe hiding place, and could
barely contain the euphoria I felt throughout my body. I took care to
stroke slowly, as I didn't want this to end in embarrassment. I kept my
eyes closed for a minute or so, listening to the silence interrupted only
by the shuffling of two teenage hands up and down, up and down.

My breath quickened with Chad's, and soon I heard him moan slightly under
his breath. I opened my eyes to see him gazing at me, his head thrown back
and his eyes an intense and ecstatic blue. He was looking at me! I almost
came when I saw this, but stopped stroking to prevent a climax. Chad moaned
a bit more, and shuffled his ass back and forth to force his shorts down to
his ankles.

He stepped one foot out of the suit, and spread his legs wide, touching
mine with his left. Lubrication oozed out of his dick, which he used it to
slick himself up and increase his pace. I was getting hot again, stroking
faster and faster, when Chad's moans suddenly quickened, getting louder. He
threw his head back, gasped for air, and his body seemed to seize, his pecs
jumping out of his chest. I stopped stroking, in awe of what I was
watching. With one last gasp, Chad held his dick as he came, one thrust,
two thrusts, I think it was ten thrusts in all, his cum squirting as high
as on of his nipples. I was living a dream, literally. As he finished his
climax, I started stroking, suddenly fast.

All I wanted was to cum. I knew this would be an incredible orgasm, as I
had never experienced pleasure this fine before. I closed my eyes again,
stroked fast, and just as I got beyond the point where I couldn't turn
back, Chad reached out his left hand and touched my shoulder. I heard him
say `yeah, man,' as my body reached that point, and my body slumped down
the bench as I lost muscle control under the influence of such pleasure.
Chad then ran his hand down from my shoulder, sliding it along my chest to
my stomach. The sensation was all I could take, and I grunted loudly as I
shot across my stomach and legs. As I finished and caught my breath, Chad
rubbed my chest ever so slightly, almost in a friendly way. I felt like I
had flown across the room, out the door, and into the summer sun.  My mind
was blank and the moment was pure. When I finally hit ground again, I
opened my eyes and realized that Chad was chuckling. Immediately defensive
and horrified, I looked at him to confirm his ridicule.  What I saw
instead, though, was that he was looking straight ahead, his hands rubbing
his cheeks like a child, and just simply chuckling to himself. I smiled
hugely, and in the surrender of my ego I knew for the first time that I
could love this kid.

I too began laughing, and when Chad took his hands out of his face and
looked at me, he said, sandwiched between his receding laughter, `Jesus,
what a mess.'

Embarrassment returned shortly, and I jumped up to grab some toilet paper
from the bathroom to clean myself off. As I finished and pulled my shorts
up, Chad called from the other room, `hey, how about me?' I grabbed some
paper, walked back out into the room, and he was just still sitting there,
legs spread, now limp, semen dotting his torso. I just couldn't get over
his presence -- not vain, just completely lacking concern.

We didn't ever really talk about what had happened. Chad simply cleaned up,
retied his shorts, and gave me a friendly shove before taking off out of
the pool house, through the air, and into the pool with a splash.

The event provided me not only the next week's supply of masturbation
inspiration but also a constant, maniacal, undeniable grin. And to boot,
everything seemed to remain normal between Chad and me. Whatever it meant,
and indeed in the near future it came to mean entirely different things to
both of us, mattered not at the time.

It became a ritual to jerk off with him after our tennis matches every
Saturday.  Though eventually I yearned for more, it seemed only reasonable
not to push my luck and risk what I already had. Chad didn't indicate the
same wish, and stuck to no more than the slight touch of a leg or pat on
the shoulder. In my dreams and fantasies, however, everything happened. I
dreamed of submitting myself to him, of tasting his penis, and oh his lips
-- to this day a fine kiss can ignite me as much as anything. But for the
time being, we were jerk off buddies. Things would remain this way until
the end of the summer.