Falling Off a Log
Copyright © 2003, 2015
We followed Dave out of the music room and out through the barn into the daylight, then up to the house. Our moms had set up a sandwich buffet on the porch table. There were rolls, cold cuts, cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, onions, mayonnaise - everything to make your own sandwich. Plus a big bowl of chips and a cooler full of sodas. My Mom and Scott's Mom had big drinks, probably with booze in them. Scott's dDad got him and my dad beers from inside the house.
Scott's dad kissed his mom and said, "I just got blown off the stage by a teeny-bopper." I noticed Davey's smirk. I knew him. He was warped. I think he was going to say that Scott almost blew his Dad on the stage, but I guess he thought better of it.
"Joey's getting really good, isn't he?" Scott's mom asked.
"Deadly. A force to be reckoned with. We were talking about them starting up a little band of their own. What other kids around here play instruments?"
She thought for a moment, her fingers on her chin, "I'm not sure that I know. Keith Hensley plays drums, he's the only one I know. He probably knows other people."
"We already thought of Keith. Ask around, if you think of it"
Scott and I had made our sandwiches and were eating on the porch steps. I was hungry, and he must have been, too. We didn't talk until we'd finished two each and had a couple of cans of soda. One of the things I liked about my parents and Scott's was that none of them were health freaks. We could eat anything we wanted, and drink all the soda we wanted. Nobody ever said anything about it. My Dad was major into chocolate. One of his favorite things was bacon and Hershey bar sandwiches, cooked like grilled cheese. The only other one who ever ate them was my brother Levi, who was even worse. I had once witnessed him eating chocolate candy with onion dip.
When we'd finished our food, Scott and I wandered up towards the meadow, arms across each other's shoulder.
"Joey - I'm really glad you know now. It was really hard to keep that stuff from you. The way you always idolize my Dad. Whenever you were playing his music and going on and on, I was so embarrassed. I didn't know if you'd believe me anyways."
"It's OK, pal. In a way, it's kind of neat finding out like I did." I went on to tell him about the scene in the music store, and what my Dad said later, and how I couldn't for the life of me figure out what was going on, or how Scott fit into all of this after his name popped up a few times. And that if I hadn't recognized the orange T-shirt I would have never guessed. We talked for a long time. Then I told him how funny I thought Dave's remark was in the barn.
He socked me on the arm. Hard.
"OW! What's that for?"
"It wasn't funny!"
Then I told him what I thought Davey was thinking back on the porch. His eyes widened and his ears reddened. "You Bastard!"
He jumped me, knocking me flat on my back. We wrestled around in the field laughing our heads off until we were both out of breath. Scott ended up laying on top of me, looking into my face. I was probably as red and sweaty as he was. He said, "Remember the last thing we did in the barn?"
I smiled. "Yeah."
He put his lips to mine and gave me a quick kiss.
"Just wanted to see how many onions you had." He leaned closer and our lips met. Softly. Just touching, really. We'd never had a serious kiss before, and neither of us really knew what we were supposed to do, but what we were doing felt terrific. We just kind of gently mashed lips. For a long time. I got hard. It embarrassed me. I broke the kiss.
"Ah ... no - just need some air is all."
Scott backed up onto his knees. "Whew! I got a woodie that could derail a train!"
"Jeez Scott. Could you be a little more subtle? Anyhow, you couldn't derail a Tonka toy!"
"Yeah? So what do you have to show for it?" He looked at my crotch. "Oh. You, too?"
I felt myself blush. "Yeah. What's going on, Scott?"
We'd been best friends now for four years - ever since that first day. We'd never done anything at all to hurt the other. Nothing. In four years, with all our wisecracks, neither of us had gotten mad at the other even once. And our little jokes would have probably been very hurtful to others. I always called his dad 'Farmer John', though not to his face of course. Whenever my dad was yelling for Scott to go home or something, he called it 'The Revenge of the Nerds'. I'd tell him that his sister was so ugly she had to sneak up on a glass to get a drink of water, and he'd say if my mother ever had to haul ass she'd need two trips. We laughed and laughed at this stuff.
We'd also gotten used to each other's bodies over the years, as our particular brand of bashfulness really only applied to others.
The first time we'd gotten each other hard was just a few weeks after we met. We were in his hayloft, relaxing after a morning of exploring around the swamp and the farm. Scott's a toucher. I was laying on my stomach and he was just stroking my bare back with his finger tips as we talked. It felt good. Suddenly, he grabbed my shorts and yanked them down over my butt.
"What'd you do that for?"
"I wanted to see your ass."
"I dunno. Hey! You must fall down as much as I do!"
"Cause you cracked it right down the middle! Haha ... Haha!" With that, he traced his finger from about the middle of my back right down through the crack of my ass." I bounced up about a foot!
"Do that again!" He did. It felt great. "Again!" He did.
"I'm getting a boner."
"Let me see!"
"Come on. Show me, then you can do it to me." I wanted to see his butt, too.
I rolled over onto my back and pushed the front of my pants down . My erect little ten year old weenie pointed skywards.
Scott grabbed it gently just below the tip, between his forefinger and his thumb, bent it a little, then let go. Boingg! Then he lifted his ass and pulled his own pants down to about where mine were and laid on his stomach.
"This hay hurts. Do it to me!"
I wasn't exactly sure just what he'd done, so I ran my first finger down his back and into his crack as gently as I could. He jumped at about the same place I had.
"Again!" I did it again. "Again. That does feel neat."
I was on my knees with my pants still pulled part way down, still sporting a hardon. When I stopped, Scott rolled over and showed me his bone. We were both pretty much identical. Thin and not very big. But very hard. I reached over and did to his dick what he'd done to mine. Boingg! Then we pulled our pants up.
And pulled them right back down again. They were full of hay!.
We had to take them all the way off and shake the hay out before putting them back on. We went about the rest of the day as though it had been nothing unusual. Holding hands until I actually had to get on my bike to go home. Like we always did.
Our relationship solidified that first summer. We did everything we could together. I went places with his family, and he with mine. He slept over at my house and I slept over at his. My brothers and sister all loved Scott, and I sensed the same thing for me at his house. Our parents renewed their old friendship and started getting together again. When we were together, we hardly ever let go of each other's hands - only when we needed both hands for something. I was figuring out the guitar, and he kept asking me to play real songs so he could sing along with me. I wished I could play as good as he could sing. He'd lean close when I was practicing. With his head on my shoulder. Ear to ear. That's the way we were the first time he told me he could hear me thinking.
By the time we went back to school in the fall, we were a unit. Joey and Scott. Scott and Joey. The 'and' was always there.
As we grew older, we failed to grow much bigger. At fourteen, Scott's twelve-year old brother Mack was already taller than either of us. Our parents assured us endlessly that growth was inevitable, it just comes later in some kids than others. That stuff. All four parents were big people. My brothers were both big. Dave was real big. We had to wait.
All that reassurance, however, did nothing for our social standing at school and around town. We were runts, and that drew us more and more into each other. Both small. Both inept. Both shy. What's a boy to do?
The only saving grace was that, as we entered puberty, the growth of one particular part of our anatomies outpaced the rest. We were both topics of locker room yack. Our normal size dicks appeared huge to the other boys, only because we were so small otherwise. Nobody ever seemed to figure that out, so we weren't totally ostracized. We were so small that nobody ever made a remark about our hugging and holding hands. We still looked like two little boys. And our klutziness seemed to amuse everybody. We were both so bad most people thought we did it on purpose to be funny, so we never got put down much for it.
Also, as puberty went on, we became rather intensely aware of what that normal size equipment was for.
We were not naive about what sex was about, spending so much time on a farm. We both had what I guess were normal sex drives. We figured out about jerking off by ourselves and did it all the time. Together and apart. We started to have wet orgasms at about the same time. We only fooled around when we were both horny. It was release. We'd jack off to see who could shoot first. To see who could shoot farthest. Shoot the most.
It had always been two young teenagers with hardons doing what they all do. But we'd never actually turned each other on before. Not with a lingering kiss. Not until that day in the meadow.
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