This is a story concerning gay males, classified within the Gay Male section. If you don’t like or might even be offended by reading stories involving male homosexual activity, you should not read this story.
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Jonathan and James had been good friends for quite a long time. Really, just about as long as they could remember.
They were both now 21 but they could remember when they first met. It had been in Miss Johnson’s third grade class. Turned out that they actually didn’t live that far away from each other, but apparently had never before crossed each other’s paths. Up until that time they had pretty much stayed within their own neighborhood. Johnny played with kids in Meadowbrook Park, Timmy with kids in Montclair Park. But, there was really only a few blocks separating their homes. In fact, John passed the street on which Tim lived (Elm Street) everyday on the way to school. A few blocks for young kids within a large suburban area though can be quite a barrier. Until, at least, they met within Miss Johnson’s class.
They instantly took a liking to each other. They were really unsure why. For whatever the reason, they became good friends; no, the closest of friends.
They suffered all of their childhood toils and traumas together: having to deal with Miss Emerson’s ridiculously strict discipline in the fourth grade; Coach Robinson’s humiliation of Timmy’s inadequate athletic skills in the fifth; having to stay after in Mr. Edwards’ class in the sixth for unruly misbehavior. There were also good times: sharing their first cigarettes in the seventh grade; sneaking out at night to crawl under the fence at the drive in movie; skinny dipping at night in Higgins Lake; and sharing their first taste of beer stolen from Mr. Peterson’s garage. They were hardly ever without each other. Whenever either one of them was planning on doing something, he was planning on doing it with the other. Johnny even joined Timmy’s family on some of their family vacations (Johnny’s father had died when he was young, and his mother simply couldn’t afford nice vacations).
But, they slowly drifted apart in high school. It was never really clear why. Although, in hindsight, it should have been clear. All of the guys were beginning to talk about girls, about dating, about how far they were going to go, about how much they were getting.
Johnny never joined in these discussions. The boys just figured he was shy. In fact, Johnny never even seemed to try to get a girl. None of them knew of him even going out on a date.
Timmy did go on dates, and did have some success. He then traded stories with the other guys. His exploits were never particularly impressive. In fact, the other guys generally found them to be a bit pathetic. They felt they were growing up, becoming men. Timmy just seemed to stay like a kid, apparently satisfied with just holding hands, stealing a kiss, or, at best, a quick feel. To them, Timmy seemed to be a bit wimpy. They recalled how he had been equally pathetic in Coach Robinson’s gym class.
But, at least he was no Johnny. To the guys, Johnny turned out to be a tremendous disappointment. He was a big, athletic, handsome guy. He had been the star of the junior high baseball and basketball teams. He could probably get any girl he wanted. However, in high school he kept largely to himself. He just seemed to drift away, go off on his own. Nobody really understood why.
Timmy tried to keep him with the crowd, which was ironic, as originally Johnny had been Timmy’s meal ticket. The other guys had tolerated Timmy’s meekness largely because he could produce Johnny. If you invited Timmy to a party, Johnny would come. If Johnny came, the girls would want to come.
But, Johnny seemed to become uncomfortable even around Timmy, and Timmy could not understand why. In hindsight, he supposed that he could have simply just asked what was bothering him, but such open talk about feelings and relationships, was something none of the guys did. Guys spoke with their actions, not with their words, and Johnny’s actions seemed to be clear. So, Timmy eventually accepted Johnny’s departure. He missed him, but he respected his apparent decision.
Johnny eventually dropped off of the baseball and basketball teams. Without these sources for respect and esteem, he was soon ostracized. Even if he wanted to rejoin the crowd, it was unlikely that he would be accepted. As the guys saw it, the teams had needed him but he just selfishly quit. They might have won the regional championship; no, they would have won the regional championship if Johnny was still on the team. Why should anyone help him now?
However, when guys eventually started to make fun of him, for being some sort of a loner loser, Timmy would still defend him, although not being able himself to offer any reasonable explanation for his odd behavior and poor, selfish decisions. Timmy would remember their many years together, their closeness throughout their childhood. That had to mean something, even if it apparently meant nothing to Johnny.
By the time Timmy graduated from high school, Johnny though had become only a memory. Timmy rarely noticed him, or even saw him.
Not until, however, they were, once again, enrolled in the same class; this time at Templeton College. By now they were young men; 21 years old. They had left the petty cliques of their childhood behind. They were starting their new, adult lives.
John nodded at Tim when he entered the class, acknowledging simply that they knew each other, suggesting nothing else. Tim, however, kept thinking about him throughout the first session. He in fact missed much of the professor’s outline of the syllabus.
When class was over John took off, heading away once again. But, this time, Tim would not let him just walk off. He caught up to him, although it wasn’t easy, as John was walking like he wanted to get away.
“John, hey, wait, hold up.”
John stopped, turned, and waited for Tim, his facing revealing no expression.
Tim caught up to him. “Hey man, so you’re taking Miss Harding’s Human Anatomy 503 class.”
“Yea, that’s right.”
“Wow, she’s some stuff, isn’t she.”
“Yea, I imagine she’s good looking.”
Tim sighed, at least to himself. Johnny doesn’t seem to have changed. That was such an odd way to put it. Tim wondered if he had some sort of mental disorder, like schizoid or something. He had read about that sort of thing in his introductory psychology class. Well, if so, it wasn’t his fault. Johnny had been his best friend. He should work through this with him.
“Hey, no fooling.” Tim changed the subject. “Look man, you know, it’s been a long time. We should catch up on things.”
“Yea, I suppose.”
“No, I’m serious, Johnny. C’mon, let’s go get some coffee.”
John could tell he wasn’t going to be able to shake him off, and he certainly couldn’t avoid him all semester. They were in the same class. He thought perhaps that he could drop the course, enroll in something else. But, Tim was right. They used to be real good friends. That deserved at least a cup of coffee. “Alright, sure, I’m game.”
“Cool!” Tim replied. He was relieved. They went to the campus coffee shop in the student center.
They shared a private table, and caught up. It was a good talk. No, it was a very good talk. It didn’t resolve anything. Tim didn’t ask the more pointed questions. He didn’t want to pressure Johnny. He just wanted to have a nice conversation again, one without any pressures or issues. And they did. It was very nice. For at least awhile, they felt once again like old friends.
It had always been easy for them to talk to each other. They could talk about anything when they were growing up: their classes, their parents, movies, shows, sports, their plans, their wishes, their lives, their fears, the stars, the end of their lives. But, it all just seemed to end at some point, and yet now their easy rapport had returned. Perhaps it was because they were no longer in high school, no longer around their peers who seemed to pressure them to act one way or the other. Perhaps it was just because time had passed. The explanation though didn’t really matter. It was just good that things were apparently, at least possibly, back to normal.
They even shared past memories. It was always interesting to share memories with old friends. It was amazing how your friend could have such a different memory of precisely the same thing. Tim recalled how they snuck into the Johnson’s backyard to swim in their pool while the family was out of town, on vacation. If their own parents had found out they would have gotten into big trouble. Both of them remembered how they climbed over the backyard fence, removed their jeans and t-shirts (they were wearing swimming trunks underneath), and dove head first into the deep end. The water was really, really cold. Each of them pretended that he didn’t care, but they didn’t stay in long. Tim, however, had forgotten that his wallet had fallen out of his pants when he was taking them out. John had spotted it when they were just about over the fence. “Wow,” Tim said. “That’s right. I forgot all about that.”
Another memory was a big fight John had with Billie Rogers. According to John’s memory, it was over a bad call during a baseball game. According to Tim, it was over a perceived insult. It wasn’t like it was a significant difference, but it did seem odd to them that they were both certain about how each had remembered it. In any case, it did in fact lead to a pretty nasty fight. Both, however, did remember that John won the fight and Billie went running home to cry to his mother.
They shared lots of memories. Before they knew it, hours had passed. They decided to take their conversation to a neighborhood pub, where they switched from coffee to burgers and beers.
Tim found it particularly nice to be sharing beers with John. It helped the both of them to relax, and it stirred up additional memories: the first time they got drunk was with each other. John recalled how Tim once threw up outside the window of his car. Thank goodness he had at least gotten the window down. Tim had virtually no memory of that, but, then again, he didn’t have much of a memory for that evening even the very next day.
They even began to recall some of their favorite jokes of childhood. These Tim had a better memory for. The only funny thing about them now was how unfunny they now were. Like the one about the man walking down the street who noticed a small boy trying to reach the doorbell of a house. Even when he jumped up, he couldn’t quite reach it. The man decided to help the boy. He walked up to the porch and pushed the doorbell. He looked down at him, smiled and asked, “What now?” The boy said, “Now we run!”
Yes, it wasn’t actually particularly funny. But, when they were kids it seemed hysterically funny. Actually, some of the jokes were so stupid that it was funny realizing how it made no sense to them now that they ever thought they were funny. The beer helped with this as well.
They eventually even closed the bar. They were having such a good time that they didn’t want the evening to end. They retired to Higgins Park. They often went to the park at night when they were kids. One of the more pleasant memories were the evenings in Higgins Park, watching the stars and swimming in the lake. They knew of a particularly good place to swim, where it was quite deep close to the shore, an inlet hidden well by large trees, one of which you could swing out far out onto the lake. At least it seemed far to them when they were kids. Even when they weren’t swimming, they enjoyed lying back in the grass, staring at the stars, talking about just sort of everything.
“Hey,” Tim suggested, “Let’s go swimming.”
“Yea, right,” John responded.
“No, I’m serious. Why not?”
“Well, we’re no longer kids for one thing.”
“Does that mean you don’t like to swim anymore?”
“No, but swimming in the Higgins Lake is something kids would do. If I want to swim, I’ll go to a club or the university pool.”
“Not at night you won’t. They aren’t open, and swimming at night is a much better experience.”
Tim was right about that. Swimming in the dark was a lot more fun. The reflection of the moon on the water was spectacular, and the silence was eery, at least with respect to the sounds of humans. The sounds of the crickets, frogs, and owls added to the spooky atmosphere, and when you went underneath, it was deadly silent with total pitch blackness. Yes, they both had enjoyed that.
“But, we have no swimming trunks.”
Tim would not be discouraged. Beer can do that too, although it was beginning to wear off. “We didn’t need them when we were kids.”
“Yea, but we aren’t kids now. I think I’m a little old for skinny dipping.”
Tim laughed at John’s modesty. “Well then, you can just use your briefs as trunks. If you like, I will do the same, and I promise I won’t look.” Tim decided not to wait for any more arguments. He just turned away and began to take off his clothes.
For awhile John just stood there and watched Tim undress. He had a bad feeling about this. But, the evening had been so good, the feelings so nice. It had to be a good thing to renew old bonds. Old friendships, particularly ones as strong as theirs had been, should not just wither and die. He turned away and removed his clothes as well.
When he was down to his boxers he turned back around. Tim was standing there, grinning, wearing only his white, tightie wighties, as they used to call their jockey briefs when they were younger. John’s underwear was more mature, dark blue boxers with grey stripes.
They both felt a bit self-conscious. John broke the ice. “You’re still in good shape, Tim. I’m impressed. Do you still work out?”
“Me?” Tim was surprised by the compliment. It was John who was the athletic one. He was still in great shape. He had excellent muscle tone, well developed and tightly cut pecs, and even the difficult to achieve abdominal six pack ripple. Tim would give at least half his life savings for a body like that, although being a 21-year old college student, that really wasn’t saying much. “John, you’re clearly the macho guy.”
John laughed. Tim noticed that his pecs even twitched with his laughter.
Macho would not be the word that John would use to describe himself, although he did admit that some of his closer friends did at times describe him that way, his really close friends. In any case, he was not going to let Tim deprecate himself. “Tim, you always had such a low opinion of your body, and that was always ridiculous. Look at yourself.”
“What?”
“I mean it. Look at yourself. Look at your chest.”
Tim looked down. However, his eyes did not at first go to his chest. They instead went down to his white briefs, and the little bulge. For a moment he felt terribly self-conscious, quite silly, even childish, standing like this in front of John, who appeared so much stronger, bigger, masculine. However, he did as John suggested. His eyes went to his chest.
“You have a great body, Tim. Look at that definition, that tone.”
Tim had to admit that there was in fact little fat on his body. He did exercise a great deal, and it showed. He was not a big guy, but he was in good shape. He instinctively tightened his pecs. They perked and twitched.
John teased him. “Hey, let’s not start showing off.”
Tim looked at him, laughed, and took off down the hill for Higgins Lake.
John ran after him, diving into the cold, dark water.
The swim was invigorating, although the water was much colder than they had remembered. The time of the year was not so much different than before. It was probably the case that their level of tolerance had dropped with age. In any case, they didn’t stay in terribly long.
They emerged from the water together. As soon as they got to the shore they realized what a comical sight they were. Tim’s white briefs shown brightly in the moonlight. “You might as well be waving a white flag for anyone within a mile to see,” John observed. In addition, the cotton was now clinging tightly to his genitals. Tim did not have a lot to notice beneath his tightie wighties, but the little bulge of his penis and testicles was clearly outlined.
John’s cotton boxers were even more revealing. Their dark blue did not stand out so much in the night light, but the wet fabric was now clinging tightly to his skin. And, in his case, there was quite a bit more to cling to.
John observed, “We look like a couple of girls at a wet t-shirt contest.” Tim had to laugh at that. It was certainly true. Their wet, clinging underwear did little to hide anything. On the contrary, their boy parts were now actually more displayed than concealed, enclosed in a skin tight wrapping that traced every inch, every bend, every curve, and every bulge of their dicks and balls.
They did not, however, try to hide themselves with their hands. They only just laughed at the comicalness of the sight. They turned to climb up the hill toward their slacks and shirts.
Tim walked out in front. John’s eyes followed the sight of Tim’s taught, boyish ass, each cheek seeming to have its own independent movement as his legs pumped up and down, pulling his body up the sharp incline. He was reminded of times that he would watch the butts of his male friends working out in a gym on a stair master or a bicycle. He enjoyed watching them. It motivated him to work even harder in his own exercise, a nice distraction from his own exhaustion and pain, although more like an inspiration.
But, this was even better, much better. This was a half naked butt, hidden only by tight, wet white briefs, and, even better still, it was the half naked butt of his old, his best, his childhood friend, Timmy.
He had to look away, as he could feel his cock beginning to swell.
Tim looked back as he worked his way up the hill. He was intending on making a joke about the fact that their friends would probably have a field day if they saw them like this. But, before he could get out the words, he could not help but notice the heavy swinging of John’s genitals as he was climbing up the hill. Fortunately, John was himself looking away and did not notice that he was looking at his stuff. He turned back to face forward, his face a little flushed. He attributed that though to the exertion of treading up the hill.
When they arrived they realized that wearing their underwear might not have been well thought through. They clearly could not put their slacks on over them. Their slacks would only just get wet, and they would feel terribly uncomfortable driving home. In fact, it would be best to dry out before they put on their shirts and pants. Fortunately, it was a warm evening. Tim suggested, “Hey, let’s just strip these off and dry out before we head back.”
John could not argue with that. The wet boxers were really quite uncomfortable.
They both pulled down their underwear.
It was a social etiquette among guys not to look at each other’s naked genitals when changing for a pool or gym class. Most guys felt quite uncomfortable about their size. In their flaccid state, penises can look terribly unimpressive, even pathetically wimpy. And, those who were comfortable looking at the tools of their neighbors could get a reputation for having “intentions.” So, you kept your eyes averted.
However, Tim and John were not just neighbors, they were old friends, the best of old friends. They had been through a lot together, including the process of growing up. They had looked before, and had done more than that. They had always been comfortable with their nakedness and their private parts, at least until they began to drift apart.
Tim had to look. Frankly, it would have been odd for him not to look, given John’s size, and, as well, given their past. On more than one occasion they had spoken quite openly about their developing manhood.