Gang of Five
by Douglas
Chapter 2
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We reached the bottom of the hill, and The Square; the little sub-suburban mall-ette place, that had pretty much been the hang-out center of our lives, growing up. It still looked about the same, to me; false-rustic, wood-shingled buildings; discreet signs, lots of plants and flowers and California live-oak trees.
And lots of parking. Of course.
“Wow,” I said, a little dully. “It is so -- weird, seeing this again. Has anything changed at all, in the last three years?”
“Are you serious?” said Zach, straight-faced. “Of course things have changed. This whole mall has seen just massive, massive changes. The Village Deli is now -- ” he paused, for dramatic effect -- “a Starbucks.”
“No!”
“True. It’s actually a nice one, we go there a lot. Want to see?”
“Sure,” I said, and looked for traffic and started to cross the street.
“NOOO!!!” I heard a shout, and Zach and Tim pulled me back -- hard -- just as a monstrous SUV roared by my face.
Well -- ALL SUVs look monstrous to me, actually. But this one looked as big as a bus.
“Okay,” I went, after a couple of seconds of heart-racing silence. “I guess I have to remember to Look Left.” I panted, a second. “Left.” I shook my head. “Left . . . . ”
“Well,” from Jarod, “some things don’t change, anyway. You’re still a little clumsy.” Tim did his head-nodding thing in agreement.
“Hey.” Another pant. “They drive on the other side of the road, where I came from.”
“But you’re here now,” said Zach. His hand was still on my shoulder, from yanking me back; and I was suddenly really aware of the warmth of it, the feeling of his touch. “Come on. Crosswalk.” And I felt myself being steered towards the intersection.
*
Okay. It might seem a little hard to believe, that so many boys -- five of us, in the end -- could find each other, hook up, form the kind of friendship we did. The really deeply physical, sexual friendship, as well as the emotional connection. I mean, what are the odds?
The odds didn’t figure in Zach. Which means, the odds didn’t have a chance.
Zach is a force of nature.
He always has been, as long as I’ve known him -- which is almost as long as I can remember. Always direct; open, about what he thinks, what he feels; how he felt, about people around him. How he felt about me.
Always loving. I think he got that from his mom. Always -- just, really showing his love. Like I said; his face just -- shines with it, sometimes. A lot.
And always really sexual. From a very young age.
I was always kind of captivated by Zach. Apart from the love, the friendship, apart from everything else -- I was always very sexual, too.
I loved doing sexual things, with Zach. With just the two of us; and then, as part of our group. I loved getting more boys to do stuff with us.
I remember when we brought Jarod into our group. What turned into our group.
I guess it’s easy -- or easier -- when you’ve got a private pool, like Zach. We used it, that day.
We’d noticed Jarod before, of course.
I mean, how could we not? He was so beautiful, even then; just stunning, like a boy model, with thick, soft black hair, that perfect boy’s body, that smooth skin, and those eyes . . .
But it was more than that. We’d both seen him . . . looking. Some. Noticing. Noticing both of us, hanging out, at school.
So one day, Zach invited him over after school. To go swimming with us.
Jarod’s reaction when Zach and I stripped down was priceless. I’ve never seen his eyes get so big, before or since. We used to tease him about it, sometimes.
But surprised or not, he didn’t lose a second stripping off naked with us. And his sheer delight and happiness at skinnydipping with us was totally genuine.
And more important than anything else -- far, far more important -- he turned out to be a really good person. A kind of private, careful person; but a really nice person. Ultimately -- a loving and compassionate person. Especially when it comes to protecting us; and even more so, protecting someone a little more vulnerable, like Tim --
That’s getting ahead of the story.
Zach and I didn’t actually seduce Jarod until the third time he came over to swim. But by then we all knew it was going to happen anyway.
We’d been fooling around in the pool, kind of splashing, and wrestling, dunking each other, a little; just, I don’t know, having fun.
Then we started throwing each other. You know; it’s when you make a stirrups out of your hands, deep in the water, and the other boy steps in it, then you throw him up out of the water, as high as you can, while he straightens out his leg . . .
With two people making the stirrups, you can throw somebody pretty high.
But it’s also a great excuse to -- touch somebody. Rub up against somebody. Maybe even, feel up somebody. Carefully.
We did.
I remember the fun, the thrill of feeling Jarod’s beautiful, smooth butt, in the water, that first time, as he stepped into Zach’s hands (it was before we were both doing the throwing), and Jarod just kind of LOOKED at me, and he so obviously knew what I was doing, and he -- smiled.
I love remembering that smile.
So we got kind of bolder, with the touching, as we all took turns getting tossed up, and felt up, laughing the whole time --
Until, finally, Zach caught my eye, and he and I both went over to the side of the pool, and hoisted ourselves out, our feet still in the water, leaving space between us, and Zach just said, “Jarod,” and patted the space, and Jarod came up and out, dripping, and got between us --
And by then, of course, all three of us were hard; totally, totally hard. It’s so easy, when you’re twelve, and naked.
And Zach moved really close in to Jarod on one side, and I did on the other, and Zach gently, gently took Jarod’s dick in his hand, and started to play with it, while I put one hand on Jarod’s back, and with my other hand I felt up Jarod’s leg, then his tummy, then down to cup his balls -- ever since then, I’ve always, really liked Jarod’s balls --
“We do this a lot,” said Zach, quietly. Evenly. “Is this okay?”
“Yeah,” said Jarod, and I felt him shudder, underneath my hands, as Zach stroked, stroked, gently . . . . “Yeah . . . ”
It was that easy.
Like I said. Zach can usually find a way to get what we want.
*
“Do they even HAVE Starbucks in London?” asked Jarod, this bigger, new-to-me Jarod, as we walked in.
“Sure. Some, anyway. There’s another chain called Nero, which is bigger; but it’s the same thing, really.”
I had a quick flash of the Nero on Old Compton Street -- kind of in the heart of the gay district in Soho. I hang out -- used to hang out -- there, just to kind of hover on the fringes of gay life. Trying to work up nerve to actually do something, meet someone, for God’s sake. Or maybe just to feel a little less -- alone.
And thinking about Zach. And Tim, and Jarod, and Liam. A lot.
Kind of weird and pathetic at the same time, huh? Drinking coffee in Soho in London, dreaming -- longing for -- these boys; and now, I was here, with them, really unsure and uncomfortable, kind of missing London. And what might have happened.
Weird.
“You can’t tell me,” went Zach, as we looked up at the menu board, “that you didn’t go to a Starbucks in England every once in a while, just for the hell of it. Just to, I don’t know, get a taste of home?” He glanced over at me.
“Well,” I started, and kind of laughed a little. “When we first got there, I sometimes went to the one near the U.S. Embassy. Near Grosvenor Square.” I waited a second, while we put in our orders, then we moved off to the side to wait. “It was pretty funny; all these really big, buffed, short-haired guys would be hanging out there, in, like, normal clothes, trying to look inconspicuous. I mean, it was like they were wearing signs, ‘US Military’.”
As soon as I finished saying it, I could feel those words -- ‘big, buffed guys’ -- kind of hang there, awkwardly. Nobody said anything else while we waited for our iced coffees.
*
Tim was the next one to join us. It was so easy . . .
Well, that’s not fair to Tim; even though we teased him about it, too, very gently. He was already friends with Jarod; so by the time he came over to swim, he knew all about us.
That’s another fun memory.
The four of us came back to Zach’s house after school, the day it happened. And Tim -- well, you need to understand, Tim’s a redhead, with really soft, smooth, milky-white skin. I swear, it shows his moods; pale when he’s worried, or something’s not right, more flushed when he’s happy or excited . . .
That day, he was flushing really red, and wasn’t saying a word.
The other thing about Tim -- well, he has this speech thing. Impediment. Kind of related to a stutter; but not a stutter. Especially when he’s excited, or upset, or startled, he sort of -- locks. He’ll just sort of freeze. He’ll look at you, and so clearly WANT to say something -- but nothing comes out, not a sound.
So. That day, he was flushing, and he had a huge bulge in his pants, and he was totally locked.
I loved the way Zach handled it.
Back then -- and maybe still, I didn’t know -- we had this kind of tradition, when we went swimming at Zach’s. We always went to his room, to ‘change’; even though there was nothing for us to change INTO. Basically, I think Zach always just wanted our clothes as far away from the pool, and us, as possible.
So that day, we got to his room, and started taking off our clothes -- and it wasn’t that big a thing for Zach or me, anyhow, we’d been doing it for years -- and poor Tim looked like he was about to die from embarrassment, as Zach slid his underpants off and stood there nude for a second, completely un-self-conscious; and then Zach turned to me and started saying something totally meaningless, just to give Tim a second, while Jarod whispered something in Tim’s ear as they slid off their own underpants.
I gawked, a second, looking over Zach’s shoulder. Tim had an enormous boner -- well, really big for his age, anyway, back then -- milky white skin, blue, blue veins . . . a really big, smooth head to his dick, and the shaft was kind of ridged . . . I mean, it was just SO beautiful, and Tim was still totally red with embarrassment.
And Zach turned around, being carefully casual.
“Oh, wow,” he said, looking right down at Tim’s boner. “That’s really nice. Can I touch it?”
Tim bobbed his head up and down, enthusiastically, eyes wide; and Zach just so gently took Tim’s cute penis in his hand, and gently began stroking it, slowly, just in kind of a welcoming way. And then Zach just said, “I’m glad you’re here,” and kissed Tim on the cheek, as he kept lightly stroking.
And as I gently began stroking Tim’s chest, and playing with his nipples, a little. And as Jarod put his arms around Tim from behind, and pressed his body against Tim’s . . .
Zach was just so -- nice about it. Reassuring. Happy. Mature.
And remember, we were just twelve. I don’t even remember Tim having pubes, then.
When I left, his pubes were coming in kind of red. I wondered what they looked like, now.
I wondered if I’d get to see them. Or touch them. Ever again.
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