As I lay in my hotel room, 400 miles from home, my minds wanders from the pundits opining on the television. My mind wanders to a time many years ago, before life and responsibility had imposed their grip on my soul.
I grew up in Derry, a small town about 20 miles from Wichita, Kansas, Derry is your typical rural community; big on football season and farming, not so big on those goddamn hippy liberals. Th e jocks ran my high school and the good old boy network ran the rest.
I didn't fit the profile of this town. I am a natural contrarian. While my contemporaries wore Wranglers, drove pickup trucks, and wore out their George Straight cassette tapes , I opted instead for Jnco's, a beat up Ford Escort, and Rob Zombie. High school was, to say the least, a difficult time. I had a small group of friends who shared common interests, most importantly a hatred for the fascist regime that the cool kids represented. Heading into our collective senior year, though, I think we all decided that our lives together would soon come to an end, put our petty differences behind us, and thoroughly enjoyed each others company for the rest of the year.
I had one friend, however, that was a jock. Well, Frank was only a jock insofar that he ran track and was on the swimming team. Frank and I had known each other since we were knee high to a grasshopper. (I know you like the folksy reference, don't lie.) Our dads were friends for most of their life. It came to a tragic end when his dad was electrocuted working underneath a house. My parents divorced soon after (nothing to do with the accident, more like dad slept with every woman in Derry), but Frank and I remained close. While my other friends and I shared rock music, a love of weed, and not much else, Frank and I had a history, and sometimes history is enough. We still mostly kept to our social cliques, but made time to hang out occasionally.
Our friendship changed forever one night during our senior year in high school. My mom had left town for the weekend to go camping with her friends, and I decided the time was right to throw an epic party. I won't get into a lot of specifics, but it involved a blunt being passed around a circle the size of my backyard and coke being snorted on the roof. It seemed as though my whole class had shown up, but in my drug induced state I can't be for sure. Unbeknownst to me, my neighbor had called the cops. We were stable enough to realize what was happening and succeeded in stashing all the dope. Unfortunately, the cops broke up the party and everyone dispersed. Probably a good thing too, as it would have been difficult to explain why I had allowed a half-dozen coke crazed morons to hang out on my roof. I decided to remain at the house to clean up because I knew good and well that I would be in no condition to perform the task the following morning.
Midway through my massive clean up task, the doorbell rang. Ready to tell whoever happened to be there that the party was over, to get the hell out, I opened the door and saw Frank standing there.
"Heard the party got crashed," he said with a smile. "You're such an idiot." I laughed. It's tough to be offended when it's the truth. He stepped inside,
"Thought you had to work," I asked him as I wandered back to the pile of trash that stood heaped in the kitchen.
"Didn't have a customer for over an hour. Jerry told me to go on home." Frank worked at a drug store in the next town over that was having a difficult time competing with the big box store that had opened up across the street. "Thought I would see what you were up to."
"Cleaning up, man. You see this shit? Potheads are such lazy fucks. You wanna help? I got beer," I replied in my most please-for-the-love-of-god-help-me voice. He cocked his right eyebrow at me, then shook his head as he reached for the beer in my outstretched hand.
"You're such an idiot."
W spent the next couple of hours getting hammered. Before we knew it, the house was spotless. Not even my anal retentive mother would be able to find fault in our efforts.
"Whew," Frank muttered under his breath as he wiped the sweat from his brow. "That was a pain in the ass." He took off his shirt and threw it over the loveseat. He collapsed on the couch. I scrunched up my face at him.
"Are you really going to lounge on that couch with your stinky ass? Good lord." He laughed drunkenly and stood up.
"My bad. Listen, you mind if I crash here tonight? I'm trashed and don't want to hear it from my mom."
"No problem," I answered as I headed to the kitchen for another beer. "You want one?"
"Yea. Hey one more thing..."
"Jesus. What now?"
"You wanna call my mom and let her know what's up? I'm in no condition." Frank gave me a pleading look.
"Damn, man. Need me to wipe your ass too? Yea, alright."
" 'Precciate it. I'm gonna grab a quick shower, Gotta clean this stinky ass up," he laughed as he walked toward the bathroom.
I walked to my bedroom to grab the phone. As I dialed the number I heard the shower start its familiar rumble. Quickly I composed myself and readied myself for Frank's mother. Surprisingly enough, the conversation was pleasant and it turned out that she had company so she didn't mind Frank not coming home. I thanked my lucky stars and hung up the phone before she could add anything more.
I felt gross so headed to my mother's bathroom to clean up. The warm water felt great on my sweaty frame. I didn't work out reguraly, playing tennis and hackysack when the mood struck, but my 18 year-old metabolism kept me in pretty good shape. I stood about six feet tall with a deep tan and jet black hair. My body was lean, but not overly cut. I was always told that my best feature was my eyes. I couldn't disagree. They were an intense light blue, the color of a clear ocean. I rinsed off and stepped out of the shower. I could still here the rumble of the shower across the house. I stepped into my room and slipped on a pair of boxer shorts and stepped towards the offending noise.
"Hey man!" I hollered through the closed door. "This ain't the Hilton! Hurry it up!" A muffled voice answered back. I walked back to my bedroom.
The shower turned off a few minutes later. I heard footsteps walking quickly towards my door, and I turned around intending to ask Frank what the hell he was washing for so long, The image before me took the words out of my mouth, and apparently left it hanging open. Frank stood nude in my doorway, dripping wet. His sandy blond hair stuck up all over his head and water drained down over the rest of his glistening body. His glistening body. If I was in decent shape, Frank was a specimen. His lean, hairless chest heaved from the quick walk to my room, and the water ran through the deep cuts in his abdomen. Tight calves and muscular thighs danced hurriedly in the door frame. And between these impressive pieces of his physique lay the most impressive piece. His cock hung heavy between his legs, swaying back and forth as he hopped from one foot to the other. An incredible tool, to be sure, at least 6 inches flaccid. I had never seen him nude and furthermore had never really entertained any sexual thoughts about him. I found myself wondering what it would feel like to wrap my lips around his beautiful man meat. I remained speechless.
"Hello?" Frank waved his hands to get my attention. I blinked. "There were no towels."
"Oh, right, sorry," I said softly as I shook the cobwebs from my mind. I made my way to my mother's bathroom and retrieved a clean towel. As I walked I thought about what had just happened. Was I staring at his cock? Did he see me staring? I prepared myself for an uncomfortable situation as I returned. I handed the towel to him.
"Thanks. Damn its cold." He shivered as he wiped the wet from his body. I made a concerted effort to avert my eyes from his body, but my lust betrayed me. I stole glances from across the room. He dried his hair and then his chest, then turned around to steady his foot on my bed so he could clean first his right leg, then the left. With his back turned to me, I was able to study him closer. The muscles in his back rippled and careened down towards his tightly chiseled ass cheeks. He spun around, looking me directly in the eyes. The action so quick that I didn't have time to avoid his gaze. I felt myself blush.
"You're staring at me," he said accusingly.
