One More Time

We had been best friends for better than six years...ever since we finally met as juniors in high school. It was one of those 'Mutt & Jeff' friendships that most people wouldn't have thought possible to even have a chance of beginning; much less growing as it would and lasting so long; in the clique controlled atmosphere of our former, small town, alma mater. I assumed we only shared one thing besides being juniors: both being 18 year old ones. I had heard he had flunked 8th grade. My parents held me back in third, because of the long lasting depression from my big brother being killed in a car wreck...but that's a whole other story.

Derek Austin was a jock that ran cross country, wrestled, and was on the soccer team. He also had chicks hanging on him all the time. I was a photographer on the yearbook staff, a fairly active member of the drama club, and rarely was seen on anything resembling a date.

He was tall; right at six foot and one or two inches; with a natural V-shaped torso; a tan to covet; and didn't seem to take school too serious. I was almost six very noticeable inches shorter; with just enough post-pubescent baby fat, to make me self-conscious about it; and if you added glasses, would probably qualify for the studious nerd club since I usually made the honor roll.

He had thick, light brown hair with a smattering of blond traces, that he wore long over the ears. Mine was a somewhere between deep brown and black and other than bangs, kept it cut short. My eyes were a boring shade of blue-grey, while his were a gorgeous emerald green that always seemed to sparkle when he smiled.

I lived out in the country. He grew up in the middle of town. He drove a hot Camaro, and I had dad's old rusty Ford Ranger pickup hand-me-down. He always seemed to have a few bucks in his pocket from his part time job, while I had to eek by on the occasional $10 or $20 my mom or grandma would slip me. I had been planning for college since junior high, and all he could talk about was graduating and finally having school over with.

I was also pretty sure he got laid anytime he wanted and that I was destined to be a terminal virgin. It didn't help any either that I was already beginning to accept that I found myself checking out the boyfriends of the hottest girls, more than I looked at their perky, teen tits and maturing, long legs. Back then, no matter how cool a jock might be; in our little rural town, they didn't have fags as friends. Course, I hadn't even thought of looking in the mirror and say 'queer' to myself yet either.

In spite of all the differences, we got to talking after one of his games where I had been taking pictures, and something just clicked between us.

It all started by chance and fairly innocently. It was the first week of May and I was sitting on one of the benches at the practice field behind the gymnasium. I was busy bagging up the school Nikon I practically considered my own, and the three, 35MM film canisters I had just filled; when he walked towards me in his ultra tight soccer shorts. 'Damn, do they show off his long legs, and firm calves and thighs,' I thought to myself. He had rolled up his tee to the decently defined pecs under the sweat drenched cotton, to cool down. I couldn't help but stare at the fuzzy tummy and treasure trail standing out from his well tanned skin. As I zipped up the gadget bag on my lap, I felt my cock twitch underneath it. I decided to simply offer, "Nice practice game, Derek," as he was shuffling by me silently, as if I wasn't even there.

He stopped in mid-stride, and turned towards me before speaking. "Thanks...ummm...sorry bro. I see you around all the time with your camera, but don't think I know your name." The wide, white toothed smile he was wearing told me the comment was meant more as a serious question, than a blow off poke.

I snickered slightly. "Yeah...that's me...the camera guy!" I smiled back at him and quipped, "My 'rents named me Bradford, but you can call Brad."

"Well Brad...hope we gave you enough action to get some good shots for the yearbook today. I never learned how to use much more than an instamatic. That fancy rig you use looks kinda complicated."

I was surprised both by the fact he knew I worked on the yearbook and not the school newspaper, and that he actually was acting interested in my job. Hoping to pique his interest; if there was any truly there; I replied, "I took almost 75 shots, so I should have, but won't really know until I develop the film and crank off some proof sheets. I think I got some really good ones of you too." I paused and set a final hook with, "And if you want to learn how to use a real camera sometime, I would be happy to give you the short course."

"Well cool beans. Can I get copies for my fans?" A grin and laugh came with his question. He also; unknowingly of course; caused my groin to grow against the camera bag still on my lap, when he suddenly planted one foot on the bench to tie back up a loose lace on his field sneaker, and gave me far more of a shot up the leg opening of his soccer shorts than I ever needed. The blondish-brown pubes curling from the side of his jock strap were enticing and I had to divert my eyes quickly so I wouldn't do something stupid like lick my lips, or keep staring and hoping for more. He thankfully broke my daydreaming of what else was inside that cotton supporter, by adding, "My mom has a camera something like yours she doesn't use anymore, so maybe I'll get it from her and take you up on the training offer."

The second comment stuck in my brain as I moved my yearning eyes from his crotch and back to his green ones. They seemed to have changed to a lighter shade. "Anytime, Derek." Then I answered his inquiry one with, "Sure you can have some copies. Just drop by the darkroom in 45 minutes or so, and place your order." Even though I was usually nervous around jocks, for some reason I was becoming totally at ease with Derek the longer we talked.

"I just might do that if you are serious. I always wondered how the photography thing works. All I know about it, is to drop off film at the little yellow booth in the shopping center parking lot."

Just in case he was being serious, I offered: "I would be glad to show you if you want. Do you know where the yearbook room is?"

"Not sure. I see you come out of the room across from the language lab a lot...is that it?"

Smiling wide, I answered "Yeah...that's it! We have a little darkroom in between it and the teacher's lounge. I will be down there for at least an hour or so...just knock on the door if the red light is on."

Derek shocked me as he ruffled my hair and said "I just might do that after I get done showering," and added a big wink before he finally removed his foot from the bench, and walked off towards the locker room.

I ended up carrying my camera bag in front of my crotch all the way to the main building because of the newest bone that his simple touch has caused in my pants. 'Oh hell, watching his high and tight ass wiggling in those clingy shorts as he walked from the field helped too,' I admitted to myself. Feeling extra warm from the combination of having been out in the unusually hot, late spring air and the fantasies I was having about Derek, I decided to stop by the cafeteria first. I had just slipped three quarters into the soda machine, when I heard the familiar voice of Mr. Fulton, ring out.

"They have you working overtime again, Bradford?" He was the only person besides my grandma that used that name on me. Well Mom too...when she was really pissed. But when she was that mad at me, she always made it the full Bradford Jonathon Billings Junior. I snickered to myself as I was once again reminded of the irony of having initials that were a double BJ if I included the junior designation. I was the typical, always horny, 18 year old; and didn't even know what one of those felt like yet...as the receiver or the giver. A total, complete, pathetic, virgin except to my right hand and a decent collection of old Penthouses under my bed. Turning to see the vice principal behind me with an empty coffee cup in his hand, made me stop thinking of how I preferred that magazine over Playboy because their photo spreads often included hot guys in the shots, also.

I smiled at him and replied, "Yeppers! Just snapped off a bunch of shots at the soccer scrimmage and wanted to do up some proof sheets while I am in the mood." We exchanged a few minutes of general bull shitting about school and how the yearbook was coming along, before he walked off to refill his cup and I headed for the darkroom with my cold can of Coke.

It was a good chunk of minutes over an hour later; certain that I had been stood up by Derek; that I heard the triple rap of knuckles to the closed, hollow steel door of the darkroom. Derek's voice was strong, but also using a stage whisper, when I heard him ask, "Red light's on...that mean you got a trick in there?"

I laughed at his substitution of the ancient, red light, prostitute 'on-duty' sign, for the typical 'Don't open this door even if the building is on fire,' warning light found outside almost every film processing room. Since everything natural light would damage, was already put away, I reached and popped open the door. I permitted my sudden teasing mood, to quip back, "Nope. He just left. You my next customer?" I cringed a little as the gay overtones of the exchange sank into my brain, but Derek only grinned and seemed to only let them fly right thru his thick locks. My butt was planted on one of the tall bar stools we used in the darkroom to sit on and still be able to work with the equipment and developing trays on the kitchen-counter-high cabinets that ringed three of the four walls.

Derek strutted inside with that air of confidence most jocks have, and stood just close enough to me to be able to smell the fresh soap lightly mixing with the natural pheromones he was giving off. My mind immediately visualized him naked, in the locker room shower, lathering up what had to be as hot a body as the impish grin on his face was to me. He pulled the door shut and said, "So Brad, you ready to take my order?"

The heat intensified in my groin and I thought at the time; but sure didn't verbalize it: "Fuck! I would be willing to take just about anything you want me to, hunk!"

I spent the better part of another hour in the closed up, small room with him explaining details of the back side of photography few people ever learn as I showed him the proof sheets and made prints of shots he was in...all while he watched and listened intently. He stayed close by my side the whole time; sometimes a little more close than my easily stimulated six inches was able to ignore. Once; when I was showing him the way I could use the enlarger to crop the rest of the players from a shot, and blow up the image to be just him, before making a print of it; he leaned his right elbow on my knee and draped his left arm over my shoulder to get a close up view of the process. I damn near exploded right in my Levis when I felt his thick bulge pressed against my thigh! By the time he had to jet and headed for his part time job at Krogers, my mind and my hard cock were creating fantasies and questions of 'what if,' out of thin air. I flipped the red warning light back on to ensure privacy even though I knew the school was like a tomb at this hour. Then I dropped my jeans to my ankles; leaned back against the closed door; and began fist fucking the boner Derek had accidentally created, and was refusing to wilt on its own. A couple dozen hard strokes and some pinches from my free hand to my left nipple later and I moaned softy as my nuts gave up their juices and splattered the red tiled floor.

* * * * *

The next several months whirled our new friendship into and thru the summer and on to the start of our senior year, like a blender on puree. Derek had caught me after class a few days later and asked me to show him how to properly use his mom's expensive and somewhat complicated, Pentax camera. He seemed to go out of his way to track me down the next week to ask if I was coming to the final soccer game...and in a way that sounded more like he wanted me to come watch him play, than to take more pictures for the yearbook. When I did show up at the game and cheered him and the team on; he surprised me by inviting me to McDonalds for the after game pig out with the rest of the team and the cheerleaders. High fiving each other in the hallways between classes wasn't unusual. Shooting the breeze about all sorts of stuff, at our usually side-by-side cars in the parking lot after school often went on for better than an hour. By the last day of school in early June, we were getting along as buds so well, that we even went to a movie together one Saturday night.

Over the dog days of summer, we would hook up at least two or three times a week; if for nothing more than to grab a meal together at a fast food joint, or just cruise around the back roads of the county taking pictures and talking. Derek had stayed over at my house a few times and we hiked the thick woods and checked out a hidden cave I knew about on grandpa's no longer worked, 125 acre farm. The couple acres my 'rents had, had been carved out years ago, and our back door was about a hundred yards from the barn sitting between the two houses. We camped out once and skinny dipped in the over-sized creek we called a river that ran along the back border of my grandparent's place. We even slept in the same bed those nights. We did the same thing the couple of nights I crashed at his parents' house after some long gaming sessions on his Nintendo. Add in a few more movies and half dozen joint trips to the game room at the mall...and by the time the bells rang for the first class of our senior year, in September, the only thing that told me we WEREN'T dating, was the lack of anything remotely physical beyond wrestling in the barn loft or dunking each other while swimming. He sure never made any attempt at kissing me, like my subconscious was more and more wanting him to do. The way we tended to wake up with our backs pressed together, when we shared a bed, certainly didn't count either.

He hadn't been out with a girl more than a few times all summer...that I knew about anyway...but I felt a little jealous when he took one of the country club bitches to the first Friday night football game instead of me. She had a definite reputation, but thanks to her doctor daddy's money and the social standing that came with it, she never hit official 'school skank' status. I really couldn't blame Derek. Hell, even with my attraction for guys becoming more and more ingrained, I would have fucked her just to lose my damn virginity...if she would have ever even acknowledged my existence and spread her legs for me, like she did for all the jocks.

The only real crack that appeared in the totally straight facade my best friend wore so perfectly; and continued to show before my birthday in late November; was when we partied together in my grandfather's barn the night after he turned 19 in October.

Oh yeah...on top of us both losing a year of school to the other circumstances...we also shared the extra blot of having birthdays early in the school year, and just late enough to not been able to start first grade at the same time everyone else had! Nothing like suddenly being 19, when most all of your classmates are barely 17. GAWD! Being both adults; and high school boys at the same time; really sucked!

Anyway...the pot we smoked in the barn did more than just give him a good buzz. We were laying in the hay loft late at night and mellowed out from the joint we had split. Derek decided he just had to tell me in great detail how fantastic the blow job Susan had given him in the front seat of his Camaro for his birthday had been. By the time he was most of the way thru vividly describing her hands rubbing his nuts and her lips working his tool; and before he told me how she had swallowed when he came; he started reliving it by also massaging the fuck out of the lump in his tight jeans as if I wasn't even there.

Watching him so shamelessly play with himself in front of me, became more stimulating than what I had been doing: mentally replacing Susan's name with mine in his recounting of the hot face fucking he had given her. Needless to say, I boned up too, and was soon also squeezing my own bulged up Levis.

Derek glanced over at my hand and mumbled, "'Pot makes you horny as hell too, I guess."

I only nodded my head back; half embarrassed and half hoping for more.

He gave me the second half when he unsnapped his jeans; unzipped them; and stated, "It's not like it's any big secret we both jerk off when we can," and fished his cock out of the cotton briefs hidden behind the denim.

It was the first time I had ever seen it hard, and took in the way it looked before it disappeared in his fist. Not quite as thick as I had imagined after seeing it soft when we skinny dipped; but definitely as long as I had thought it would grow to...probably just at seven inches or a little over. My own bone was screaming 'me too,' and I tugged my zipper down and wiggled my jeans low enough to comfortably join Derek in matching strokes. My thicker, six inch toy, had been dribbling pre for a while, and was ready for the attention my palm quickly gave it. Between the buzz and the extra horniness the birthday blow job story caused, we both popped our loads quickly.

Neither of us said a word about what we had just done...only packed our wilting, wet tools away, and switched to talking about sports, and cameras, and school. "If I only had the balls to tell you," stayed unsaid, when Derek asked what I wanted for my birthday next month.

* * * * *

The next five weeks flew by and was pretty much just same-old, same-old with me and Derek. I stayed over at his place once and I told him of my mom's offer to join us for Thanksgiving dinner if he wanted to.

He laughed and said his mom had suggested the same thing, but would come out to my place because it would include a homemade-by-grandma, birthday cake, since my 19th and turkey day fell on the same date that year. We hit one movie together and Mickey Dees a lot. And we wasted a lot of hours together playing pool at the mall game room. He fixed me up with one of the friends of the girl he took to the homecoming dance, and we pissed them both off by spending most of the time acting up and talking to each other instead of paying 100% attention to them and on the dance floor with them every song. I cringed a little, when his chick asked whether he was on a date with her or me. The one I was with, teased me up some and grinded suggestively against me when we slow danced; but she wouldn't even let me feel her boobs when I got brave enough to try on the way home. The attitude she had quickly taken, pretty much told me the only hand job I would even end up with that night, would be from my own. Derek sure scored that night though and told me all about it...yet again, for like the 50th time...when we were laying in my bed in just our undies Thanksgiving night. Dad had said we could both enjoy a couple beers for my birthday, but that Derek couldn't drive home that night if we did. I was definitely happy he chose me and the brews, over his own bedroom.

I could almost smell the pussy juices as Derek had gone into even deeper details than before, of the last time he had gotten laid. It was bad enough listening while he described every lick, flick, and slurp of the oral foreplay she used to get his cock extra stiff and ready; but when he kept talking about how they made out and she squeezed the hell out of his hard ass cheeks, while he fucked her silly; I wanted to scream. I will forever remember the next words from his mouth when I had been expecting him to start agonizingly verbalize every drip of the quart he would claim, filled the rubber he wore for protection when he cummed.