Basset hound

Little Dick

by Alan Dwight

I was short. Petite. Some would say tiny. Standing as tall as I could I was still quite a bit less than five feet. I guessed there were a lot of boys my size, but I doubted that they were 15 and about to start ninth grade, like I was.

Mom knew I was anxious about school, and she tried to reassure me, telling me that my father got his growth spurt very late but eventually ended up over six feet tall. I was not comforted.

I never met my father. Mom said he left home just before I was born. I guess he didn’t like the idea of being a father. I was beginning to think I was the result of a one-night stand. Not that Mom had lots of boyfriends or anything. I’d never seen one and I doubted she was sneaking out at night for a secret date. But who knew?

Last spring, when I finished middle school, I was by far the shortest boy in the class. I guess someone had to be, but why me?

I was too little and uncoordinated to be any good at physically-challenging sports. I’d tried tennis and swimming, but I was not very successful at either.

I did have a basketball hoop on a stand beside my driveway. I’d looked up the regulation distance from the backboard to the free-throw line ─ 15 feet ─ and I’d measured it out, painting a free-throw line on our driveway. I’d gotten really good at shooting free throws, but so what? It wasn’t like I was ever going to need the skill.

A week before school began, Mom took me to a clothing store to shop for school clothes. We had to go to the children’s department to find anything that would fit me. The only other boys in the department were like ten years old. Humiliating? Tell me about it.

We were supposed to get a jockstrap for PE but we couldn’t find one that would fit me. Mom said she’d write a note to the gym teacher. Great. How embarrassing would that be?

When I complained to Mom, she said, “Richard, it won’t make any difference. Nobody else needs to know.” Fat chance! As soon as we were in the locker room, everyone would know.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not putting Mom down ─ exactly. I know she loves me, and I know she works two jobs so we can live in a nice house and have plenty to eat. But she just doesn’t get what being a boy is all about, what one has to deal with to survive. And on top of that I’m little. She doesn’t really understand what being little means to me.

The doctor assured me that I’m not a midget or a dwarf or anything like that. “You’ll grow,” he said. “It just takes some boys longer than others.” I knew he meant well, but I didn’t think he got what being little did to my psyche.

The night before school began, I couldn’t sleep. I lay awake trying to think of ways I could get out of going.

At breakfast the next morning, I said, “Mom, I don’t feel good.”

“You’re just nervous,” she said brightly. “You’ll feel better once you get busy at school.” Not a chance!

Since I had been through a local middle school, Mom reminded me that I would know some of the kids. In our town there were three middle schools, and they all fed into one big high school. As for knowing some of the kids, I guessed I would, but I’d never had any friends in middle school, so I didn’t expect high school to be any different.

The first day, Mom gave me a ride to school. After that I’d be taking the bus. When she pulled up in front of the building, I gave her a quick kiss before reluctantly opening the car door, climbing out, putting on my backpack, sighing, and heading to the front door.

This was my first time in the high school building, and I had no idea where to go. I stood inside the door watching the other kids as they flowed around me, chattering happily with each other.

As I stood watching, a boy who must have been six feet tall came up to me and said, “Hi. You must be in the wrong building. There’s a middle school across the street.”

Blushing, I said, “I’m in the ninth grade, but I don’t know where to go.”

“Really? In ninth grade?” he said. Then, maybe seeing I was embarrassed, he asked, “Do you know your room number?”

“Two one seven,” I said.

“I’ll show you how to get there,” he offered. As we walked down the hallway he said, “I’m Max Carlson. I’m a sophomore.”

“I’m Richard Andrews.”

“Anybody ever call you Dick?” he asked, as we walked up the stairs.

“Yeah, but I don’t like it.”

“Okay, Richard it is,” he said. “What’s your locker number?”

I told him and he led me to my locker. He asked what my combination was, and when I told him, he showed me how to open it.

“Richard, your classroom is just across the hall,” he said. “See ya later.” And with that he was gone.

I put my jacket and my lunch in my locker, closed the door, twirled the lock, and went into my homeroom. It was pretty full. Looking at all those faces, I had this awful feeling I was going to throw up. Now THAT would have been embarrassing! Fortunately, I managed to suppress it.

There was only one empty desk left, so I sat there and stared ahead, listening to the chatter and trying to control my nerves.

The boy across the aisle from me, looked over and said, “The middle school’s across the road.”

“I know,” I said. “I’m in the ninth grade.”

“No way. How old are you?”



I nodded. I was already tired of the questions.

“I’m Reggie,” he said.

“Richard,” I replied before the teacher called the class to order.

As it happened, Reggie and Max were the only kids who spoke to me all morning.

At lunchtime I fished my lunch bag out of my locker and found the lunchroom. As I went in, I heard a voice call, “Richard.” I turned and saw Max waving and pointing to an empty seat next to him. I was surprised to see Reggie sitting there too. I sat and Max introduced me to the other boys at the table. They all said hi but mostly they stared, although they tried to hide it. By the time I’d eaten my lunch I again felt like throwing up.

“I gotta pee,” I announced, standing.

Max told me where the restroom was. I barely made it to a toilet before I lost my lunch. I hated the taste that was left in my mouth and tried to rinse it out but with little success.

As I returned to the lunchroom, I felt a little wobbly, and I prayed nobody would know what I’d just done.

As soon as I sat, Max said, “You look pale. Are you okay?”

“Just nerves,” I mumbled.

The afternoon went like the morning. The teachers all seemed to be happy to see us, but I didn’t speak to anyone, and nobody spoke to me. I never put my hand up and I was never called on.

My last class of the day was gym. I tried to stall in the locker room, hoping the other boys would leave so I could dress in private.

I sat on the bench and faced a locker. Slowly, I removed my shirt and put on my gym shirt. I was stuck. I had to take off my pants. I kept my underpants on as I didn’t have a jockstrap. I tried to do it without the others seeing. Fat chance. Nobody said anything, but I could tell that they knew.

In the gym I handed the teacher my mother’s note. He read it and said, “Try a sports shop. They have clothes even for the peewee football and hockey kids, so they’ll have a strap for you.”

I heard a couple of giggles, and I blushed.

The teacher blew his whistle and told us to line up by height.

Great, I thought, and headed for the end of the line. Reggie, I saw, was in the middle.

The teacher, or as he preferred, the coach counted us off, “One, two, three, four.” When he got to me he said, “Two,” and then announced those were our numbers for the year. Then he called out the names on his class list and we each had to respond with our number. When he got to me he said, “Dick.”

“Richard,” I responded before saying, “two.”

That took most of the rest of the period, so we were just turned loose to shoot baskets. I only shot one free throw, which I made of course, because I couldn’t get any other balls.

As we went back into the locker room for the mandatory showers, the biggest boy in the class said, “You’re Richard?”

I nodded.

“Great,” he said. “From now on you’re Little Dick.”

“Good one, Caleb,” called one of the other boys.

All the boys within hearing snickered. I was furious but what could I do? Nothing.

Reggie called out,” Lay off him, Caleb.”

That surprised me.

“Butt out, jerk,” replied Caleb, and again the boys snickered, but I thought they were a little nervous.

In the showers I stood facing the wall, waiting for the others to leave, but they seemed to hang around. I finally gave up, left the showers, grabbed a towel, and went to my locker.

A kid next to me, Tanner, said, “Hey, Little Dick, how little is it?”

Without looking at him I said, “About five.” I didn’t tell that was centimeters, not inches.

“Wow,” he said, “you’ll be huge when you finish growing.”

I managed to survive the bus ride home, sitting alone as usual.

I told Mom what the coach said about a jockstrap, so that evening we went to a Dick’s Sporting Goods store. Sure enough, they had straps that were even too small for me. I picked out two and we went to the cashier. I was thoroughly embarrassed, but Mom told me to give the woman the straps. The cashier didn’t bat an eye. She rang up the sale, put the straps in a bag, and handed them to me, saying, “Here you go, sweetie.”

Somehow, my answer to Tanner about the size of my dick had gotten around the school, and by the next day in gym everyone was trying to look. In the locker room I covered myself, which just made the others laugh. And they laughed more when I put on my jockstrap.

“I don’t think you really need that,” Tanner said.

“Will you just fuck off,” I muttered under my breath but loud enough so that I was sure he heard me.

“Yeah,” put in Reggie.

“Sorry,” Tanner said, but I just ignored him. I knew he wasn’t really sorry.

By the second week of school, things had calmed down for me, although I was known all over the school as Little Dick, snicker, snicker. Even the girls were calling me that.

In the late fall it was announced that the school was going to put on a performance of “A Christmas Carol.” Guess who got picked for Tiny Tim. I didn’t try out or anything. About the last thing I wanted to do was be in a play, especially in the part of a little boy, but when the cast list was posted, there was my name. Damn!

I went to the play’s director and told her I didn’t want to be in the play.

Then why did you sign up for it?” she asked.

“I didn’t,” I said.

“Isn’t this your name on the sign-up sheet?”

I looked and felt like cursing. Someone had put my name on the list.

“Yeah, that’s my name, but I didn’t write it.”

““Well, it’s too late to change it now,” she said. “You’ve been cast and that’s that.”

I complained to Mom, hoping she could get me out of it, but she thought it was wonderful that I’d be in the play. So much for depending on Mom. She really had no idea.

I had to go to rehearsals after school, but once I got over my embarrassment, I discovered that the rehearsals were sorta fun. The other cast members were nice to me, and the good thing for me was that Max got cast as Bob Cratchit.

Tiny Tim was not a big part, but I had to learn to use a crutch, and a couple of times Max was directed to carry me around on his shoulders.

By then Max and I had become quite good friends. He’d been to my house a few times and I’d been to his. Kids at school thought it was funny that I was friends with a six-footer, but Max put an end to that bit of humor, mostly just by scowling at anyone who giggled.

For the dress rehearsal we had costumes and make-up, and I decided that was maybe the best part of being in the play.

There were to be two night-time performances, and because of the size of the auditorium, tickets were required. I got one for Mom for the first night and asked her not to sit too near the front.

As the cast assembled for the first performance, I was very nervous. My stomach was acting up and even though I’d eaten almost nothing I was afraid I’d barf on stage or, even worse, on Max. When I told him that, he gave me a couple of tablets to calm my stomach and they seemed to work.

At the beginning of the play, I waited in the wings for my part. Most of the cast did pretty well, although the Ghost of Christmas Past forgot a couple of lines. I could have called them out to him, but I decided that wasn’t a good idea.

Max did a great job. Not only did he remember all of his lines, he really acted.

I don’t remember a lot about my stage debut, but at least I didn’t screw up my lines.

At the end of the play, Max lifted me up on his shoulders and I called out, “God bless us every one!” All the cast cheered. The audience stood and joined in the cheering and then cheered each cast member as we took bows.

It took me some time to take off my costume and makeup, but Mom waited for me. We met Max and his family at the ice cream shop and had a great time celebrating.

The next day at school a lot of kids congratulated me, and, surprise surprise, not one of them called me Little Dick.

As I was walking down a hallway between first and second period, I heard, “Hey, Richard.”

I turned and there was Reggie coming towards me.

When he got to me, he said, “You were really good in the play, Richard.”

I thanked him and then turned away because I had a tear in my eye. It annoyed me. After all, high school boys don’t cry. Fortunately, nobody saw.

About that time I began to feel some pain in my shins. I had no idea why, but I decided to ask Mom to take me to the doctor after Christmas.

Mom and I usually went to the midnight service at the Episcopal church on Christmas Eve. Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not religious and I don’t think she is, either. For us, the service is maybe more a cultural event than a religious one.

We both got dressed up, and just before we left for the church she said, “Richard, stand over here in the light.”

I did as she asked. She looked at me for a moment and then asked, “Do you have any dark socks?”

I was puzzled. What difference did that make? “I guess,” I said.

“Please change out of the white ones,” she said.

Shrugging, I went to my room to change, although I didn’t understand why she said to.

As we were walking to the church, I asked her what difference the socks made.

“Well,” she said, “there’s a gap between the cuffs of your trousers and your shoes, so a lot of white was showing. I think you must have grown.”

Grown? Me, grown? I never grew, or at least I’d felt that way for a long time.

I always enjoyed the Christmas Eve service. The music was special, I enjoyed singing the carols, and I loved the smell of the pine boughs at the ends of the pews.

Our Christmas day was quiet. I no longer hung a stocking and there were just a couple of gifts under our little artificial tree.

The next morning, Mom measured me on my door jamb. There was a series of little marks which she had made recording my height from time to time. I hadn’t been measured for a while as the process had begun to discourage me. It turned out that I had grown more than two inches.

I told her about the pains in my shins and she asked, “Have you ever heard of growing pains?”

“Yeah, but I thought that was just a saying.”

She assured me that growing pains were real and I was apparently feeling them.

That afternoon, Mom took me shopping for new pants. For the first time I was in the department for older boys. I came home with three new pairs of trousers.

Mom did take me to the doctor, who confirmed that I was feeling growing pains. I told him that the pains were worth it if I was really growing.

Back at school after vacation, I told Max about my growing. “Yeah,” he said, “I thought you were growing the last few times I had to lift you onto my shoulders.”

We high-fived and went to class.

On a Friday afternoon a few days later, as I was riding the bus home, I heard a commotion from some of the kids at the front. Then I began to see flashing blue and red lights ahead of us. When we got to my stop, I realized the lights were at my house. Fearing the worst, I got off the bus and looked at my house. Flames were pouring out the windows and through the roof. Firemen were doing their best to quell the flames, but I could see it was hopeless. There were policemen around, holding off traffic and keeping people away from the site.

Shit, I thought, what should I do now? I tried to call Mom, but she wasn’t answering her phone. I called Max and he said he’d be right over.

By the time he arrived, I was a basket case. I threw myself into his arms and sobbed, “What shall I do? It’s all gone.”

He took my hand and said, “Come with me.” We walked to his house, where I threw myself on the couch in the living room. He sat beside me, with an arm around my shoulders and stroked my chest gently.

“I know this is a disaster for you, Richard, but at least for now you can stay here.”

“What about Mom? She doesn’t even know.”

“We have a guest room she can use.”

“But you haven’t asked your parents,” I stammered through my tears.

“I don’t have to, Richard. I know they’ll welcome you.”

I was doubtful but too upset to question further. About an hour later, I tried to call Mom again. This time she answered, and I told her what had happened. Then I said she should come to Max’s house when she could.

By the time Mom got to Max’s home, Max’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. Carlson, had arrived and assured me that Mom and I were welcome.

Mom arrived in tears. We sat on the couch just hugging each other. When our tears finally stopped, we had supper with Max and his parents. Max showed Mom to the guest room, while he and I went to his bedroom. Nobody had said anything about the fact that Max and I would be sleeping together. At least nobody complained about it.

When we were ready to go to bed, Max found me an extra toothbrush. I pointed out that I had no PJs and he said not to worry, that he never wore them. We went into the bathroom together, peed, and brushed our teeth before going back to his room.

Max closed the door and began to take off his clothes. I’d spent time with him, but I’d never seen him without his shirt on. When he took it off I could see he was clearly beginning to develop some muscles which made me feel even scrawnier. I wondered if I would ever grow any muscles.

Reluctantly, I took off my shirt and then my pants, so I was standing in just my underwear.

He watched me and I blushed.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re beautiful?” he asked.

“Hell, no,” I said. “I’m little and scrawny and ugly.”

“Well, you’re not big yet so your muscles haven’t begun to develop, but you’re not scrawny or ugly, and as far as I’m concerned, you’re just about perfect.”

I could see there was a growing bulge in his underwear, and to be honest, there was one in mine as well. I tried to hide it, but short of obviously covering it with my hands there was nothing I could do.

“You don’t need to hide it,” he said, seeing my discomfort and the reason for it. “I like everything about you.” With that he climbed into bed and motioned for me to join him.

With the shock of the fire and the uncertainty of my future, I was exhausted and quickly fell asleep.

We both slept late the next morning. When I woke up, Max was spooned against my back and his arm was reaching around and across my chest. I could feel his hard cock against my butt.

I stirred and he woke.

“I’ve gotta pee,” I said.

“So do I,” he replied.

We quietly rose and went into the bathroom where we stood at the toilet, holding our boners, with our streams crossing.

“I haven’t done that with another guy since I was eight,” he said, grinning.

“Me either,” I agreed.

Back in his room we stood facing each other. We stood for I don’t know how long, maybe a minute before, without a word, he reached down to my undershorts and found my hard little cock and balls.

I was surprised and shocked.

“Are you okay with this?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” I said.

“Well, tell me to stop if you get uncomfortable.”

He worked his hand inside the elastic of my shorts, and I felt the warmth of his hand on my cock.

I almost told him to stop, but then I realized how good his hand felt on me and I kept quiet.

He slid my shorts down and I stood before him, naked, my little cock pointing straight out. I thought about covering myself, but he didn’t give me time. He took off his shorts before he took my hand and led me to his bed where we both lay, facing each other.

By the time we finished, we had brought each other off, my first mutual jerk off. At first I thought I should be ashamed, but I realized I wasn’t. I had enjoyed what we had done. I had felt excited and I was eager to do it again.

“That’s the first time I’ve actually shot cum,” I sighed.

“How did you like it?”

“It was wonderful.” Then I said, “I’m so glad it was with you.”

He nodded and we lay just gently caressing each other.

Mom and I remained with the Carlsons for many weeks while she dealt with the insurance company. It was hard for her because she couldn’t take any time off from work. We did manage to buy some new clothes, not a lot but enough so that we could wear clean ones every day. She also bought me two pairs of PJs. I didn’t tell her I wasn’t wearing them anymore.

By the February vacation, I needed a bigger jockstrap for gym. This time I wasn’t embarrassed at the store. I was really feeling rather proud.

In March, when I was asking a question in class, my voice suddenly cracked. There were a few giggles, but everyone our age knows that a boy’s voice cracking is just a sign that he’s growing up.

At the end of class, Reggie stopped me and said, “Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” I said, and my voice cracked again. We both laughed.

In April I decided that I needed to do something to earn money over the summer. I thought maybe I could mow some people’s lawns.

Checking at a local hardware store, I found something called a ‘lawn sweeper’, which was designed to pick up grass cuttings and leaves. The one the store had was just under $100. It wasn’t as big as some of the others, which I thought was probably good for me. But where would I get $100? We were still waiting for the insurance on the house to come in and I knew Mom didn’t have much cash.

I talked it over with Max and he said he’d loan me the money. At first I said no, but he insisted. When I thanked him, he said he was investing in me and not to worry about repaying the loan until I was ready.

So, I went back to the store, bought the lawn sweeper, and pushed it to Max’s house, where I put it in the garage beside a lawn mower. I was happy because I hated the loud leaf blowers that the pros used. They stank and they made too much noise.

I made up a sign and printed several copies.

Flyer: THE MOWER THE MERRIER. Tired of caring for your lawn? Give Richard the Mower a try.

At the bottom of the signs I put some tabs with my phone number which people could tear off to take home and call me.

Max and I spent an afternoon after school taping up signs on telephone and light poles in the neighborhood.

By the next day I was getting phone calls and inquiries. I made appointments to talk with people on Saturday.

Most of the people I talked with were interested enough to ask about my prices. I had found out what the professional services charged and quoted a price a good deal lower. The next question I got was about noise. I told them that I used a push mower and a lawn sweeper, so I made little noise.

I made commitments for several houses in the neighborhood and was soon busy after school and on weekends cleaning up leaves remaining from last fall. It was too early for the grass to have grown much, but I knew it wouldn’t be long.

By Sunday night at the end of my first week I was exhausted, and muscles which I didn’t even know existed were aching.

Each night when I went to bed, I was almost instantly asleep. I knew Max had other plans, but I was just too tired.

As the weeks progressed my muscles grew accustomed to the work and I began to enjoy it. I was working outside, earning money for me and Mom, and I was doing something useful for the first time in my life.

Later in the spring, I began removing my shirt as I worked and developed a good tan. I continued to grow stronger. And my voice was getting deeper, too.

When school got out for the summer, I had more time to devote to my work. I thought about taking on more houses, but I didn’t want to be exhausted all summer, so I only continued with the houses I had. That meant that I wasn’t nearly as tired when I went to bed at night.

Mom and I were still at Max’s house. As we got ready for bed one night, he commented on how my body now looked. And since I was no longer as tired, it didn’t take long before he and I were again experimenting with sex. By then I was pretty sure I was gay. Despite the fact that the boys in gym still embarrassed me, I enjoyed seeing their bare bodies in the showers. Whether Max was gay or was only using me until somebody better (and female) came along, I didn’t know. I was quite sure he didn’t love me, and I knew that I didn’t love him, although I really liked him as a best friend. What we had was just a convenient arrangement for us to get our rocks off. And we never got any farther than mutual jerking off.

By the end of the summer, I had grown quite a bit and was now over five-and-a-half feet tall. I’d also continued to bulk up some and my voice was deeper.

On the first day back at school, as I was walking down the hallway, I heard someone say, “Hey, Little Dick, the middle school’s across the street.”

I turned and there was Caleb, my old bully, confronting a small boy. I walked over to the two and with my new, deep voice said, “Knock it off, asshole.”

“Who do you think you are?” he asked, and then he recognized me, the new me. “You,” he said. “I can still punch your lights out.”

“Wanna try?”

One of the teachers walked up, stood between me and Caleb, and said, “Let’s not have trouble the first day back, boys.”

Caleb looked at me and said, "Later,” and strutted off.

The new boy looked up at me and said, "Thanks.”

I couldn’t believe that a kid was actually looking up at me.

The kid and I walked along a little as he said, “I’m Roy.”

“Hi Roy, I’m Richard. Do you know where you’re going?”

He blushed and said, “Not really.”

When I asked him what his homeroom number was, he told me, and I led him up the stairs.

Roy was cute, no he was more than cute. He had dark hair and eyes, and he still sported a nice summer tan. While he was little, he was well proportioned and, thinking of my own experience, I was able to project how he might mature.

“Thanks,” he said after I showed him how to open his locker.

“Look for me at lunchtime,” I said and walked off.

That first day of my sophomore year was certainly different for me from my first day as a freshman. Kids greeted me and talked with me, and I felt like I belonged.

At lunchtime, I sat with some friends but saved a seat for Roy. Max was not with us because juniors and seniors ate on the second shift.

I saw Roy enter the room and look around hesitantly. I waved him over, indicating the empty seat next to me.

Although Roy was about the size I had been the year before, that’s where the resemblance seemed to end. Unlike me, he didn’t appear nervous. Once he was introduced to the other guys, he entered into the chatter. By the end of lunch I was smitten. I suggested we meet after school and get a snack, my treat. He agreed, and off he went happily.

When school ended at 3:15, I waited outside for him to show up. He bounded down the steps and said, “Hi!” before we walked to the local sandwich shop. We both ordered sandwiches and sodas.

“You don’t have to pay for me,” he said. “I’ve got plenty of cash.”

“No,” I answered, “this time is on me to celebrate your beginning high school.”

As we ate I asked him about his family and learned that he was the youngest of three boys. He lived with his parents, but his brothers were older and were away at college. When we were ready to leave, I suggested that I walk to his home with him. He tried to turn me down, but I insisted, not telling him that I really wanted to know where he lived.

Where he lived was a huge, three-storey house with beautiful grounds. He invited me in, and I followed him through the door and into a large, two-storey front hallway with a staircase which wound to upper floors.

We were greeted in the hall by a basset hound which Roy told me was named Bilbo Baggins. Roy introduced me to his mother before we went upstairs to his room on the second floor.

“So, what’s on the third floor?” I asked. He told me that his brothers each had a room up there. In addition, his father had an office while his mom had a sewing room.

Roy’s room seemed ginormous to me. It was very much a boy’s room, with a desk, a double bed, bookshelves, a stereo system, a TV, and a play station. I could tell from his book collection that he was, like me, an avid reader. On his walls were posters of young male movie stars ─ from Bjorn Andresen to Levi Miller, Paul Dano, River Phoenix, and Colin Ford. At the end of the bed was a ramp. I was puzzled by that but didn’t ask.

There were two windows looking out to the backyard and two more on one side. In the back I could see a patio and a pool surrounded by a stockade fence.

“Wow,” I said, “you’ve even got a pool.”

“Yeah,” he replied. “My brothers got me into liking to swim naked. Have you ever done that?”


“I love it. It feels so good and it gives a wonderful sense of freedom. Maybe you could come and swim sometime before we close the pool for the winter.”

“I’d like that,” I said.

We sat next to each other on his bed as Bilbo Baggins climbed up the ramp to join us. For a moment we were silent. Then Roy said, “Thanks for your help with that goon this morning.”

“I had trouble with him last year.” I told Roy about being nicknamed Little Dick by Caleb my freshman year, explaining to him that I had been as small as he was.

“I know it’s not easy,” I said, “being the littlest kid in high school.” I told him about throwing up on my first day of school. “But you seem to be more outgoing and have more confidence than I ever did.”

“It’s a survival skill,” he said. “I don’t have nearly the confidence I pretend to have, and when that goon pushed me up against the lockers, I was scared shitless.” Then he asked, “Were you really as small as I am?”

“Yup,” I nodded. “I didn’t believe my doctor when he said I’d grow, but he was right.”

“Good to know,” said Roy. “Thanks for the encouragement.”

By the time I left, I knew I had a serious crush on this boy. He was between cute and beautiful, and I was determined to keep him as a friend.

In the days that followed, I spent as much time as I could with Roy, although my yard work took up much of my time. When we were together, we talked about books, we played video games, we even did our homework together.

The insurance money from the fire finally came through, and Mom and I were able to settle into a two-bedroom apartment about half-way between Max’s and Roy’s homes.

On the first Saturday after school began, I finished my yard work shortly after noon and went to Roy’s house. It was a warm day and I had worked up a good sweat mowing lawns.

“C’mon,” Roy said, “let’s go for a swim.”

We went out through the patio and he led me to a small shed which had a cold water shower attached to an outside wall. Inside the shed we stripped off our clothes and grabbed a couple of towels. We showered briefly and plunged into the pool. Roy was right. Swimming naked felt wonderful!

We swam about, raced some, and got into a splashing contest. “Put your feet apart,” he said, and when I did he swam between my legs, brushing against them. Was the brushing accidental or deliberate? I didn’t know. I tried to swim between his legs, but he couldn’t spread them wide enough, so I twisted under water and rose up with him on my shoulders. Then I tossed him into the water. As we continued to play around, he grabbed me and held me close for a few moments. The skin-on-skin sensations resulted in an immediate boner.

Roy looked down in the water, saw my hard-on, and giggled.

“What are you laughing at?” I asked. “You’ve got one too.”

“Can I touch it?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said.

His hand was warm and soft.

I reached down and touched his. It too was warm but not soft. I could feel his pulse in it.

We let go of each other and swam for a while longer.

When we finished swimming, we climbed out of the pool, grabbed our towels, and went into the shed to retrieve our clothes.

“That was fun,” I said.

“Come tomorrow and we can do it again.”

I did, but shortly after that the weather turned too cool for swimming, and we didn’t resume it until late spring.

One day in a school hallway, I encountered Max, who seemed to be thoroughly entwined with a girl. He introduced her as Molly, before he mentioned he hadn’t seen much of me lately.

“I’ve been kinda busy,” I said thinking, and so have you, obviously.

Reggie, too, had found a girl.

The next day, as Roy, Bilbo, and I were again sitting on Roy’s bed, he said, “Can I ask you a personal question?”

When I nodded, he hemmed and hawed for a bit before asking, “When you were my size could you jerk off?”

That stopped me cold. I had never actually discussed that particular activity with anyone except Max, and very little with him. So, I hesitated before answering, finally saying quietly, “Yeah, but I didn’t shoot cum until partway through the year.”

“Thanks. I’ve been worried that it was never gonna happen.” Then he reached over and hugged me.

“You will,” I said, hugging him back. I really liked that, and I was growing so hard in my pants that I ached to reach in and adjust myself.

“How do you feel about kissing?” he asked.

“Never done it,” I replied, as I grew harder and more uncomfortable.

Without another word, he turned me toward him and kissed me gently on the lips. His mouth was warm and soft, and I loved it. I leaned in a little and kissed him back, then, instinctively, I ran my tongue gently along his lips.

By then, I was very uncomfortable down below.

I broke the kiss and said, “Sorry. I gotta adjust myself.”

He giggled. We both reached inside our pants and moved our cocks around. Then we went back to kissing.

Perhaps feeling neglected, Bilbo tried to push himself between us.

“Bilbo,” said Roy, “if you can’t behave, you’ll have to leave.”

I have no idea what Bilbo understood, but he looked up sorrowfully, the only way a basset can look, moved backwards on the bed, lay down, and sighed.

When we returned to our kissing, I felt Roy’s hand inside the front of my T-shirt.

Well, one thing led to another, and we were soon both naked and lying on the bed, hugging and kissing and gently rubbing each other’s chests. I nibbled on one of his nipples and he moaned.

Then I reached down and took hold of his hard cock. Perhaps it wasn’t very big, but I knew it would grow, as mine had.

Soon we were holding each other’s cocks and pumping gently up and down.

“Oh, oh,” Roy said, “that feels so-o-o good.”

I pumped some more, and with a loud “A-a-a-a-a-h” he came, a dry climax although he pulsed several times. That pushed me over the edge, and I shot cum onto his stomach.

We lay on our backs, slowly recovering. Then I leaned over and licked my cum off his tummy.

“I can hardly wait until I shoot,” he said. “Does it feel different?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “Even better.”

We heard his mom come into the house and we quickly stood and dressed. Before we went downstairs for me to leave, we kissed each other again.

“Goodbye until next time,” I said.

“I’m glad there will be a next time,” he replied, kissing me once more before we went down to the front hall.

I called Max that night. I wanted to congratulate him on finding a girl and, since I didn’t want him to think I was just ignoring him, I explained what was going on with Roy.

“So, you’re really gay,” he said. It wasn’t a question; it was an observation.

“Yeah. I guess I shoulda told you.”

“No,” he said. “That might have spoiled our time together. But I’m happy for you. You deserve someone to love.”

The next week, Roy shot cum for the first time. “You’re right,” he said, “it does feel great.”

In the days and weeks and months that followed, Roy and I enjoyed hours and hours together. Of course, we engaged in sex. I will never forget the feeling the first time he took my cock in his mouth. At first I was startled, but I hugged him closer as he moved his mouth up and down on it. I had goosebumps. As I felt the familiar tension rising, I warned him I was going to shoot, but he just kept on massaging me with his lips and his tongue. I shot my load into his mouth, and he swallowed it with no hesitation. I was soon licking his cock and then gently sucking it. He came, this time shooting into my mouth. In the days after that we figured out how to sixty-nine.

While there was very frequent sex, there were lots of times when we just enjoyed being together ─ going to movies, talking, and simply walking through nearby woods. We held hands as often as we could. What had begun for me as a crush evolved into true love.

That summer we were in his pool nearly every afternoon, swimming, splashing, and doing a lot of touching.

By my junior year in high school, I was just over six feet tall. Roy grew too, although he never got over five foot nine.

In time we came out to our friends at school. Caleb was the only one to give us a hard time, but he got such a negative reaction from everyone else that he shut up and left us alone.

Reggie, good old caring Reggie, congratulated us and even hugged us.

Molly and Max eventually broke up. Max went to college, found another girl, and when they both graduated, they married. I was his best man.

When I graduated from high school, I took a year off. I expanded my yardwork job and did some snow shoveling to earn money I’d need for college. Roy and I would go together.

In Roy’s senior year, we both came out to our parents. Mom said she’d always known about me. Roy’s parents were surprised at first but, as it became apparent to them that we loved each other, they came to accept our being together. His older brothers were not surprised about him and supported us both.

That year, Bilbo died. We immediately decided to get another basset hound, who we named Frodo Baggins.

By the time we finished college, gay marriage had become legal. We had a simple ceremony for just our parents and a few friends. Max was my best man.

Today Roy and I are living together with our most recent basset hound, Gandalf. We continue to love and care for each other and to thoroughly enjoy each other. In time we were able to buy a house with a pool, and we sometimes have friends over to enjoy skinny dipping with us.

I know that high school romances don’t always last, but ours did. We truly love each other.

Many, many thanks to my editors who find errors and make suggestions. The story is better because of them.

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