Recovered: An Unlikely Friendship
by Hunter Woods
Chapter 1: Smoldering Anger
WARNING: this story contains sexual content, and contact between young boys. If the subject matter offends you, is not to your tastes, or if you are under legal age for your area, then find something else to read. In the following story all names and events are completely fictional. Although I may mention specific locations, places, or persons any resemblance to said people, locations, or places is completely unintentional.
Feel free to email me at (email@example.com). I respond to all of my readers.
This work is copyrighted © by Hunter Woods. No part of this story may be transmitted or reproduced in whole or in part in any form including mechanical, electronic, photocopying, and recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without the express written consent of the author. For those of you who just blow this off and decide to steal anyway keep these thoughts below in mind:
"Intentionally using the quotes of others without author attribution is plagiarism and contributes to illiteracy."
- Rain Bojangles
"Most plagiarists, like the drone, have neither taste to select, industry to acquire, nor skill to improve, but impudently pilfer the honey ready prepared, from the hive."
- Walter Colton
"Borrowed thoughts, like borrowed money, only show the poverty of the borrower."
- Lady Marguerite Blessington, Countess of Blessington
Thoughts to consider
I just wanted to share some quick thoughts with my readers regarding this story and some issues that may come about. There are some contents which some of my readers may find disturbing in this story. Of course I'm not simply talking about the sexual aspects between boys, but rather other topics that I bring up that affect the plot of this story. There is a main underlying theme of discussion throughout the story and without giving anything away at this point I simply want to point out I've done extensive research on this issue. It is controversial in some ways with the way I bring it about and talk about it in this story. This topic tends to often be portrayed inaccurately in literature and movies; however, I try to bring out as much realistic information regarding this issue as I can, but I also want to point out that indeed I've also used some creative writing licensing in regards to this particular issue. I think you will understand what I'm referring to as the story progresses. I don't want to say anymore at this point because I don't want to give away some things too soon.
There might also be one or two other issues, but those are only little blips in the overall story and towards the end. I don't want to say more about it thinking it might not even be an issue, but knowing how politically correct our country is I'm sure I might be getting one or two emails concerning it from people who might be offended. My answer to them is that it isn't intended to be anything more than how it is presented in the story, and if it is an issue I simply say deal with it. When the story comes to that little passage and a ruckus is brought over it then I will have more to say about it, but again I'm sure my simple response will be to deal with it because more than likely it is simply an issue the person themselves have problems with jumping right away to conclusions that aren't even there.
I'm sorry about being cryptic about these things, but I never like to reveal anything about my stories ahead of time wanting them to come out naturally in their own time. However, in this case I know the main underlying theme can have some people feeling uncomfortable with how I portray it because they may have a family member in a similar situation. I hope I represent that particular issue in a fair and equitable enough way while also maintaining a quality of story telling entertainment for the readers. As with all things of this nature it is a juggling act trying to maintain a sort of realistic aspect while also entering the realm of fantasy.
As I step off the bus, a foggy cloud of air forms in front of my face when the warmth of my breath is suddenly released into the bitter frosty atmosphere. The moist vapors swirling around my head, which quickly dissipate in the frigid temperatures, are an effective reminder that we are in the middle of winter here in Des Moines, Iowa and only a couple of weeks away from Christmas. I can hear the crunch of my feet on the dirty ice and snow along the roadway as I step on the curb watching my school bus pull away. It has a couple of more stops to make before it retraces it's way back across the other side of the Des Moines river to park in a large lot with other buses located a few blocks from the Middle School I attend.
My ride home from school had been a somber one with the kids leaving me alone to wallow in my sulkiness. They've become accustomed to my moodiness this past year, so simply left me to my thoughts. They all knew what happened at school today, so prudently kept their distance not wanting to take the chance of irritating me even further. Even Steve, one of my closest friends, didn't say much to me on the short ride across the river from our school. I could tell that some of the other kids were a little leery, maybe even a bit scared of me lately, with my friends also making subtle comments suggesting that over the past year my behavior has frightened them at times.
I suppose I couldn't blame them with all the fights I've been involved in lately. Yet, for the most part I also knew that the kids in my neighborhood and school really didn't think of me as a bully or anything. I mean it wasn't as if I was going around pounding on the timid or weak kids. My fights tended to be more explosive and unpredictable at times, but I always thought they were mostly justified even though in the past I would have found a way to avoid them. Truth be told, I simply didn't need an excuse these days to get into a scrap. I suppose it was this that had some kids in the neighborhood and school, not to mention my friends, a bit leery because they never knew what would set me off. They were constantly on edge around me because just by looking at me you wouldn't think I'd be the type to get into fights. Frankly, even I thought of myself as fairly average in many regards. At twelve years old I was a pretty typical every day kind of a boy in height, weight, and looks so didn't come across as being such a hardnosed badass.
Even when I had my physical at the beginning of the school year the doctor had nodded his head and confirmed I was average for my age. With my medium kind of build I had weighed in at eighty eight pounds at the time with a height of fifty eight inches or four feet ten inches. I had sort of sprouted a bit over summer vacation, but since my physical exam I've grown about another inch, and gained about two pounds making me now four feet eleven inches and ninety pounds, still very average for my age.
The doctor even had the gall to declare my development between my legs as being typical for a boy my age. That was something I truly hadn't relished, exposing myself to a complete stranger even if he was a doctor, but if I wanted to participate in sports at school I had to succumb to the humiliation of the process. I mean, no one's seen me naked since I was like six or seven years old. Heck, for that matter I don't ever recall seeing anyone naked either. I mean sure in movies and stuff there are glimpses of some titties at times, and then of course online with some of those porn sites, but I've never seen anyone naked for real, not to mention I'm not really into all that porn crap on the internet. So having to strip out of my clothes in front of this elderly man while his delicate fingers probed my little fleshy cut tube and boy baubles was humiliating to say the least. He had me blushing about ten shades of red, which turned to about thirty crimson shades of hues when he made that proclamation regarding my average physical development down there.
All things considered though I felt he was only humoring me. I mean I was still hairless down there, not to mention everything seemed much smaller than usual having shrunk since it had been so damn cold in the room. Hell, for that matter I still didn't even squirt yet. No wet dreams, no nothing they tell you about in our health education class regarding puberty. With the way some of the boys my age were talking in my Middle School many already had pubes and were able to shoot their loads. Of course I'm not a complete idiot regarding the whole puberty issue so I was fairly sure some who bragged probably were still hairless and didn't squirt yet just like me, but I've noticed that in my school many boys' appearances seemed much more mature with some of them even sporting a little fuzz above their lips already.
So naturally, when the doctor had announced my sexual maturity was average for my age I was most definitely embarrassed he had even brought it up in the first place, but I was also a bit leery about his assertion as I gazed down at myself thinking things didn't look that way from my perspective. My pale pubic mound which hardly ever saw the light of day looked almost porcelain like and devoid of any hair. The light blue veins along the pale creamy smooth surface of my mound looked like hairline fractures in fine chinaware. My penis in the frigid room had shrunk a bit barely managing to hang over my tight boy satchel which currently hugged tightly to my body. Typically my purse sagged a bit and wasn't so firm, but once again the coolness and sterility of the room sort of made it shrivel up a bit, not to mention the embarrassment of the whole situation of being totally exposed to a complete stranger. Then something else came to mind during this time. I noticed that even the rest of my body looked pale for a white boy making me wonder if perhaps the doctor would think I was sick or something. When he hadn't said anything about it I simply assumed it was only natural then for a white kid to be so pale since we were in the middle of winter.
If the whole size and hairless bit wasn't bad enough back then, now four months later since I've had the physical exam nothing more has developed in the nether region in regards to it getting any bigger, squirting, or pubes. It made me wonder not for the first time if I was ever going to mature between my legs. Of course I jacked off like most boys my age, and man did that ever feel good, but my spasms always ended up being dry ones to my utter frustration and shame. There were times after my shower or when I was alone in my room I'd look for those elusive little strands of hair always coming up empty handed and a bit disappointed. Sometimes I thought maybe I was a bit perverted keeping tabs like that about my body, but then I'd realize it probably was a typical kind of thing for a twelve year old boy to be curious about. I suppose it was something that most boys my age contemplate from time to time, so perfectly normal. More than likely it was a similar need for most boys to know and understand, just like jacking off was the customary course of action for a boy my age to relieve the tensions of our raging hormones in our tiny bodies.
I've never really talked to anyone personally about those embarrassing issues. Of course I had plenty of friends, and we all joked around about such things in the typical way twelve and thirteen year old boys do, but when I thought about it I've never really talked about sex in an open kind of way with them. In our neighborhood that simply wasn't done. You can tease, mock, or even snatch a playful kind of grope towards your friends without actually touching a guy's junk, but that is as far as the whole sex thing went, other than bragging rights of course. Anything else would reward you with a beat down.
Simply thinking about all of this right now had my, according to the doctor, average sized cut penis hard as a rock in my pair of light colored casual style pants I had on. Wearing Khaki's at school wouldn't be my first choice, but it was part of the dress code the school had adopted several years back. No we weren't a prep school or a yuppie private one; rather, we lived in a kind of rough neighborhood so the school had adopted the dress code to curb the violence. In many ways it does work, but still I hated wearing those purplish blue shirts or sweaters with the school logo and image of the timber wolf on them along with Khaki pants or shorts. All the sweaters and shirts were alike, making everyone the same, reminding me of a bunch of ants going through our daily routines. We even had to make sure the shirts were tucked in at all times and most definitely no sagging pants with our clothing no larger than one size too big. I hated the school for trying to squash our individuality. Of course I understood the whole so called "class" issue with some kids not able to afford certain kinds of clothing and all, but still I hated the concept of making us all like drones.
Those thoughts were enough to immediately deflate my hard tube, that and the biting cold air, as I now stood looking around at my neighborhood. I lived in a more integrated section of Des Moines, which meant that as a white person I was actually in the minority in stark contrast to the rest of the city. Des Moines itself was predominantly white with that population being seventy percent, followed by eleven point nine percent Hispanic, ten point five percent black, four point eight percent Asian, with the rest of the combination totaling in the other percentages. In the district where I lived the breakdown was completely different with the majority in the neighborhood, forty four point seven percent, being black followed by twenty nine point two percent Hispanic, with us white folk coming in at twenty point two percent. I chuckled to myself because my close group of friends, who for the most part followed the statistics since they were black and Hispanic, always teased me about how I tended to remember such mundane statistics. I couldn't help myself though because when I was curious about something I simply had to look it up on the computer.
The area I lived in wasn't necessarily a poor area or even run down, just not as affluent. Despite this or maybe because of it, people here still seemed to take pride in their homes whether it was their house or apartment complex. My parents were separated so my mom and I lived in a small two bedroom home a few minutes away from Drake University, a few blocks off of Martin Luther King Jr. Parkway Drive, and a few blocks from the Des Moines River that runs through Prospect Park. My school, Harding Middle school, was too far for me to walk being located on the other side of Des Moines River; therefore, I took the school bus. I didn't really mind the bus ride, never really thinking much about it since that is simply the way it was for me.
We only owned the one car, which of course my dad took with him since he works at Drake University as an untenured professor. You'd think we'd have a lot of money because of his education and where he works, but truth be told even though he made decent money there were still a lot of bills needing to be paid; especially, his student loans that had racked up over the years. I suppose in time those will be paid off and there would be more money to go around, but for now things were tight. It didn't help matters any that my parents were legally separated incurring extra costs in the living situation.
The separation happened a year ago, and I suppose that is what had set me off on this moody rollercoaster. I used to be such a calm type of laid back kid, but when my parents separated with me finding out my dad was cheating on my mom, it had set me off. I hated my dad for what he had done to our family. My mom was a beautiful woman, and I'm not just saying that tooting my own horn, but she really was a very attractive woman in her early thirties. The stress and strain over the past year was beginning to show on her tired features, and it seemed like she was always catching a cold or something these days, but despite it all she still had an inner beauty and an air of stateliness about her that radiated outwards touching everyone in her circle. She was truly a magnificent lady with such a kind compassionate heart to go along with her natural beauty.
During the onset of our trials and tribulations my mom continually tried to calm my gloomy sulkiness down always saying it wasn't totally my dad's fault because they've sort of been going their separate ways for years now. She tried to explain that they had merely grown apart, and it was simply time for them both to move on with their lives. She said it still didn't change the fact that he was my father, and would be part of my life with the love he felt for me not changing because of the situation between the two of them. She constantly tried to assure me that he was still my father and he loved me very much. I couldn't comprehend, not after everything he did to her, how she could still be so kind and understanding of him cheating on her like that with another woman.
Of course I knew my father loved me even though it was difficult for him to show it. He wasn't the loving doting kind of parent being more aloof and even cold at times rarely displaying any sign of affection openly to me. Thinking about it I had to admit I rarely saw him doing that with my mother either. She was the one who had always initiated the hugs and little kisses typical of married couples or those in love.
Where my father was more aloof and Off-Standish feeling uncomfortable with showing any signs of affection, my mother was the complete opposite lavishing me with all of her love. She enjoyed humming and singing, smiling at life in general with genuine love in her heart not in the least bit afraid of letting other people see it. Even though I was twelve years old I didn't mind her cuddling up with me on the sofa while we watched some lame program or when she came into my room just before I went to sleep. My heart was filled with loathing and hatred at the world in general, but when I was around her it seemed to sing once more with the happiness and joy life has to offer.
A few weeks after my parent's separation I spotted him with a good looking woman who was much younger than him. Of course during the course of the shouting matches preceding the official separation, and my sheer loathing of my father, it had come to light that he was seeing another woman and had moved in with her. So when I saw him with this other woman I immediately knew this had to be the one my father left my mother for, and it set my blood to boiling. She looked to be in her early twenties, making me wonder if she was a student at the university, wearing a low cut blouse in front that showed off her beautiful shapely breasts. Hell the blouse barely covered up her boobs only managing to keep her nipples concealed as the soft fleshy portion of her jugs on either side were completely exposed.
Despite my bubbling anger I still managed to immediately pop a boner, which sort of made me feel sick and giddy at the same time. Hell, it didn't take much these days for me to pop one at just about anything sexual, so seeing all that naked skin on something normally covered up had my little boy soldier standing up at attention acting all fickle and giddy like. It was exhilarating, humiliating, and also downright confusing in a nauseating kind of way that I would be perving on my own father's sexual interests.
The encounter had been a brief one, and I don't even think my dad knew I had seen him, but other than the weird butterflies in my stomach from the near nakedness of a pretty woman's breasts, I was boiling with hatred and steaming mad at my dad for the betrayal to me and especially my mom. It was bad enough he was cheating on my mom, but the woman truly was a beautiful young girl.
It wasn't all that soon afterwards where I found myself constantly fighting with the kids in my neighborhood over the silliest of things. It had gotten to the point where even the older kids didn't mess with me because even though they'd kick the snot out of me it wasn't worth their effort because I'd get plenty of good shots in of my own. No one wants to fight a guy who simply doesn't give a shit if he gets his ass wupped in a fair fight. Besides, I didn't fight fair, not in this rough neck of the woods. We were city kids and we fought to win, not out of any sense of fairness.
When my mom tried to talk to me about my dad I completely shut her out to the point where he was never mentioned in our conversations anymore. I didn't want anything to do with him, and I made it perfectly clear. The only time I ever saw him these days was when I was in some sort of trouble.
Shivering from the cold my mind seemed to snap back to the moment as I looked around at the Christmas lights in the windows. It was cold outside and my body had stiffened up a bit making me wonder how long I had simply just stood in place without moving after the bus dropped me off. I was the only one who ever got off on this corner, with my friend Steve getting off several blocks down the road with a few other kids. It was strange how a few blocks could be transformed into a separate kind of neighborhood. Steve's folks weren't considered rich or anything, but they most definitely had money.
Exhaling heavily, I laugh at the vapors escaping my lips because somehow I had managed to create a small ring that hung in the air for a few seconds before dissipating. I winced in pain tasting blood inside my mouth reminding me of my recent fight at school as I run my tongue up against the split lip that had just reopened because of me smiling so broadly. Shrugging my shoulders not too concerned about it, I adjust my pack of books and slowly make my way down the hard-packed snow on the sidewalk.
My house was just around the corner now, but I paused watching a couple of kids playing hoops in their driveway. They had removed all the snow and ice creating a clearing in their small little courtyard. One of the guys notices me and calls me over asking if I want to play for a bit. I knew that I should be getting home, but I figured what the hell. More than likely my dad was there already just waiting to jump down my throat for managing to get suspended until after the school holiday season. We were due to be on break her in about a week and a half for Christmas, but mine was coming a bit early this year.
My dad would be livid as always. I knew that the school had contacted both my mom and dad. It was their policy to contact both parents if there were two parents around, so I pretty much knew he had been informed. He'd simply come unglued as usual blaming me for everything. He wouldn't even take the time to listen to my side of the story. I knew what was coming, and I wasn't ready to deal with his shit right now. Besides, he moved out leaving me and mom so what right did he have to come down on me like he always did. Lately it's been shaping up to becoming an all out screaming match with the only thing staving it off was my mom always getting between me and dad.
Dropping my book bag off to the side I joined in on the game. It really was nice to simply let things go for the moment as I begin to lighten up enjoying a bit of fun with some other kids. These guys were a lot older than me, in High School, but have known me for years always allowing me to join in with them. They took it easy on me, but still put up enough pressure to make me work for the points. They were simply being themselves making it an even kind of match since I was so much younger. I knew they could see my banged up face and that I had been in another fight, but they never even brought it up. In this neighborhood fights were relatively common, and for the most part once blood was spilled it was over and done with, everyone moving on giving it no further thought.
We played for about an hour, and I managed to build up a good sweat despite the frosty air. I figured it was probably around twenty five or thirty degrees Fahrenheit outside today making for a cold game. Even the basketball handled a bit differently in this temperature. We continued to play until our fingers became too numb. The guys finally called it a day heading inside giving me a knuckle bump for a good round of play.
Picking up my jacket that I discarded during the game I quickly pulled it over my shoulders shivering a bit now with my sweat turning cold because of the chill in the air. My house was literally just around the block with me not having far to go so the frigidness in the air didn't bother me that much as I quickened my pace.
Sure enough as I approached our house my dad's old faded blue Nissan Sentra was sitting in the driveway. Running my hand over the hood it felt cold to the touch so I knew he had been waiting on me now for a while. Bracing myself for the onslaught I approached the front door. Our house was a simple single story two bedrooms structure with a small living room, kitchen/dining room combination, and one bathroom along with a small utility room that housed a washer and dryer. We didn't even have a car garage, but it was a small clean, safe, and comfortable place I called home.
Stepping through the front door I hung up my jacket and set down my book bag on the floor next to the easy chair. No sooner do I drop my books onto the floor when my dad is already laying into me with me simply shutting him out and make my way into the kitchen while he followed me screaming and shouting the entire way. My mom was right there trying to calm him down, but he's beyond pissed. Making him wait for me to show up at home for over an hour simply had been too much for him to handle.
"I've been waiting for over an hour here missing critical appointments at school so I can deal with your stupidity." My dad's droll voice rants. "Samuel?" He snaps looking at me questioningly as I calmly pour myself some sugarless iced tea still ignoring him; especially, since he knows how much I hate him calling me Samuel instead of Sam.
"Samuel!" My dad snaps again trying to get my attention. "Haven't you heard a single thing I've said?" He asked a bit exasperated as I shrug my shoulders at him.
"Nope." I respond drinking down my cold tea while he simply goes ballistic.
"What the hell do you mean 'nope'? I simply don't understand you anymore. How can you be so stupid as to get into all these fights until you get suspended from school? This isn't like you; especially, since you know how important an education is. There's no reason for you getting into all of these brawls all the time. Besides we raised you better to be a responsible young man to know right from wrong. Things are going to change young man, I swear to god they are going to change even if I have to put you over my knees and spank it into your system. I won't tolerate your willful disregard any more." He belted at me not even bothering to hear my side of the story, as usual, taking a step towards me to make good on his verbal threat.
Several things happened at that moment to change things forever between us. First of all my mom immediately stepped between us defying him. Secondly my boxer/lab mix immediately stood up, his hackles raised and teeth snapping, growling at my dad threateningly letting the man know he was ready to defend me. Finally, I had actually balled up my fist holding them up ready to defend myself against my own father. Even my mom was caught by surprise as I shook with fury and yelled back at him with such raging hatred dripping from my mouth.
"Fuck you, and if you ever lay a hand on me you'll regret it for the rest of your life. What fucking right do you have coming into our house making threats and screaming at me? You are the one who decided to be selfish and have an affair with a filthy whore while still married. You are the one who left us. When you did that you gave up the right to come in here and tell me what to do. Who are you to teach me from right and wrong when you can't even do that for yourself. It's not my fault if you can't keep your pants zipped up." I screamed at him my entire body shaking in anger.
The look on my mom's face filled me with dread. It wasn't a look of shock at my foul mouth, but rather a look of sadness filled with anguish that I had let those words tumble out of my mouth in the first place. The words had spilled out in front of everyone never again able to be taken back. They had been said, but what was worse is that I had meant every word of it. My only regret was my mom's disappointment in me, but this has been coming for a while now, and I wasn't about to let up now.
"So just who the hell do you think you are coming in here just to yell at me for something that wasn't even my fault?" I challenged him as his mouth opens and closes before his face turns red with anger.
"I'm still your father, and as long as you live under my roof you will do as you are told." He snapped at me while I begin to laugh harshly and sarcastically at the absurdity of it all.
"Oh yeah some good provider you are. We can barely afford to stay in this place, and if it wasn't for mom working two jobs we'd probably be on the streets for sure. Look around you, we are barely making it." I yell back.
That statement wasn't actually true and I knew it. We had everything we needed, but just didn't have any of the frills or extras. Times were tough, but they were much better before my dad left forcing him to pay for two different places. Sure he moved in with another woman, but he was still responsible for some of those bills as well. Instead of one household to pay for there were now two separate households. Of course he had to split his income now providing some to my mom to pay some of the bills while also having to live on the rest for himself, but this was his doing not ours, and besides we were the ones having to pay for his selfishness.
"That's not fair Samuel, and you know it. I provide your mom with money to help pay for this place and your needs, but I have to live too you know." He fires back as I shrug my shoulders again.
"That's your problem not ours. You are the one who can't keep it in his pants. How could you do that to us? We are the ones who have to suffer because of your narcissism with another woman who is like ten years younger than you." I fire back using a recent word I had learned in school a few weeks back and liked how it sounded.
Several emotions began to play out over my father's features. Mostly it was a look of confusion, which I didn't understand. "What makes you say that and how…," he pauses still seemingly confused by my statement before he seems to brush it aside and focus more on what he believes to be the main issue.
"That's enough out of you. This isn't about me; this is about you and your insubordinate irresponsible behavior at school. For that there must be consequences or you will never learn. This is about you, and you are the one at fault here so you are the one who has to deal with the outcome." My dad yells pointing a finger at me threateningly while I stood my ground squaring off with him.
"Fuck you and your consequences. You never listen to me anyway. You act like you are the judge and jury all wrapped up in one. All you do is always shout at me blaming everything on me. You don't even want to hear my side of the story, and you always think the worst about anything I do. Well fuck you then, and just leave me the hell alone. You never come around anymore unless it is to yell at me, you don't give a crap about us, so just leave us alone if all you want to do is to come over to yell or scream at me. That's not being a father, only a jailer of some sort. It wouldn't bother me one bit if you simply disappeared forever." I spat at him turning to stomp off towards my room slamming the door shut behind me.
Boxey, my Chesapeake Labrador and Boxer mix, followed me to my room a bit confused and nervous as he tried to calm me down. I loved that dog even if dad had bought him for me last year as a bribe. At first I wouldn't have anything to do with the dog, but he had a way of worming his way into your heart. I soon realized it wasn't the dog's fault so finally allowed him to be part of my life.
He was a year old now, and had a quirky unique personality that made me laugh. There was deep sense of gentleness to him along with an endless supply of curiosity leaving me in a fit of laughter at times. It was simple things, like when mom and I were sitting at the dinner table he would put his head in your lap and give you the most forlorn types of looks with those huge brown eyes of his. He would then sort of huff beseechingly batting at you with those sad eyes. It wasn't a growl, whine, or even a small bark, but rather a simple huff of air like we would make. It truly was way too funny when he did that.
Looking at him no one would ever accuse us of starving him. We always kept his bowl full of food, and a bowl of fresh water that got exchanged out frequently whether empty or not throughout the day. When we first got him as a puppy we filled up his bowl with food and he ate it all down greedily. We filled it back up and let him eat as much as he wanted until he made himself sick. It took him only a few times doing this before he figured out that no one was going to steal his food, and that there will always be plenty of food there for him whenever he was hungry. In a way it is what kept him from getting fat because he simply ate whenever he was hungry and not anything more. I also took him just about everywhere with me making sure he got plenty of exercise. What truly amazed me is that he never went to the bathroom anywhere except for in the back corner of our yard so taking him somewhere with me was never an issue.
Every once in a while I would give him a little doggy treat from my pocket. I always made sure I had some sort of appropriate treat stashed away in my pockets or pouch around my waist to give him as a reward. I wouldn't always give him food; instead, switching up the treats with a simple gesture of praise which he seemed to relish just as much as the treats. I didn't want him to get into the habit of thinking he needed to be rewarded with food for doing something good. He loved attention, and even when I was sitting around watching TV or goofing around on my video games I always made sure to give him some. Mainly simple things like scratching him behind the ears or his rear leg muscle making him twitch and whimper in pleasure.
Sitting down on the edge of the bed Boxey now placed his large head in my lap looking up at me making sure all was well. "It's alright boy." I sighed smiling wrapping my arm around him giving the big guy a hug before releasing him and scratching behind his ears.
He simply stared at me cocking his head off to the side inquiringly. "I know boy, we shouldn't have yelled like that, but dad just gets me so mad sometimes. I know it's not all his fault, but still he doesn't listen to me anymore. I'm just fed up with it I guess." I tell the dog who was a very good listener as I look him over.
He was a pretty big dog coming in at around seventy five or eighty pounds, which created a problem sometimes for little kids or older people. Not because he was mean or anything; rather, more so because he was a leaner. He enjoyed pressing his weight up against you or simply making contact for reassurance. If you weren't expecting or paying attention he could knock you over or make you stumble a bit.
He had a beautiful charcoal colored coat with white paws and a splash of white marking on his chest typical of boxers. His gray coat also had a mixture of white and golden brown highlights. It was a strange combination because when the light hit him just right he almost had a brownish kind of hue to him like a boxer. His face was a bit difficult to describe because on one side he had those boxer features while on the other half the lab mix seemed to be more predominant. If you looked at him straight on you could most definitely see those features. He also had a long tail with the same charcoal color except for the tip which was white. It was constantly moving able to do a lot of damage if you weren't paying attention.
It was pretty quiet in the house so I suppose that my dad was probably brooding about the whole incident. He was kind of a cold and distant type of person, but I thought maybe it had to do with him being a more analytical kind of guy. Everything for him had to be thought out and reasoned, almost as if each move he made was a calculated one. Mom always told me he didn't have the luxury of growing up in a warm loving environment. He had been brought up by his uncle out in the farm country and they were dirt poor. He had to fight for everything he had in this life; which also meant his education. There was no hugging or praise in his environment growing up, and all he had was work and his books. When he wasn't working the farm his nose was buried in his books.
It made me wonder how mom had even fallen in love with a guy like this. She had told me they met at the university, and she had fallen in love with him then. My mom always smiled fondly when she told me the story of their courtship. I couldn't even fathom how different my mom made my dad sound back then. From her accounts he had been outgoing and loving. Marriage was always in the cards for them, she explained, but then she became pregnant with me so they got married early. She had managed to finish her bachelor's degree before having me, but then didn't continue on from there. My dad had continued on with his education getting a Master's degree in education, but times were difficult so I suppose it was then that he sort of reverted back to what had always got him through before; working hard and sticking his nose in his books. I guess it was then that he had become cold and distant never able to find his way back.
Getting up off the edge of the bed I decided maybe I should hop on to my computer to start doing some research on the paper I would have to complete before coming back to school after Christmas break. The principal had lowered the boom on me saying that my suspension wasn't going to become an extended holiday. He ordered me to write a twenty page paper on whatever subject I wanted, but warned it had better be a damn good topic, and a damn good paper or else he would make me redo it imposing a fifty page requirement on the assignment. This most definitely had me swallowing with nervousness. Hell, a twenty page paper; that was like a major project for a twelve year old boy, not to mention what the hell was I going to write about.
My small laptop slowly came to life. Sometimes I wished we could afford better things. I didn't even own a desktop computer, just this outdated laptop. Still, I couldn't really complain because there were plenty of kids in my neighborhood who didn't even own a computer in their homes. I know it is a strange concept these days, but many families couldn't afford such a luxury not to mention the monthly fees involved for hooking up their computers. My laptop was an older one, but it wasn't like it was ancient or anything. Truth be told it actually was a halfway decent one, and I even had a printer to go along with it. When I had asked for a computer my parents weighed the pros and cons carefully, opting for a laptop in case I needed to take it with me somewhere.
That was before I got my ipad though. I had wanted an ipad so bad, but my parents refused to get one for me. I suppose it was understandable because it was something I wanted versus actually needed. So, I had dug deep into my pockets and bought a used one. It was still a decent one though, so I was happy. I wasn't a stranger to work, sort of being the neighborhood handy-kid. I did the odd jobs for neighbors such as yard work or fixing things up to earn a little extra cash. During the winter months I did a lot of snow shoveling. There were some elderly people in the neighborhood so it wasn't unusual for me to simply shovel up their sidewalks or driveways while doing their neighbors without expecting any money. I never asked them for permission and never asked for anything in return simply doing it because I knew it was difficult and dangerous for them to get around otherwise. I really didn't mind, and it made me feel good that I was doing something constructive for someone else who needed a bit of help.
While my computer fires up I finally hear my mom and dad going at it regarding me. I knew it wouldn't take long before my dad had time to process that information in his analytical kind of mind. I never understood that in regards with getting into arguments. I mean no matter how much you thought things through, when the yelling started all of it went out the window anyway.
"I simply don't understand that boy anymore Claire." My dad started out.
"Well, what did you expect Jim?" Mom countered.
"A little more respect," came the quick reply as if he had expected the comment.
"Well that is a two way street you know." My mom offered up.
There was a short pause and I knew he hadn't expected that reply confirming my observations that it was useless trying to control the events of an argument.
"So you are taking his side then, as always." My dad seemed upset.
"No…I'm simply pointing out that Sam is right in this instance."
"What's that supposed to mean."
"Jim, I'm just saying Sam is right. The only time you ever come over anymore is to yell at him. You don't even listen to his side of the story. It's not right." My mom tells my dad as it gets quiet for a few moments.
Finally my dad speaks up. "I know…I know, but that damn brat just frustrates me to no end. Maybe I should go talk to him again and get his side of the story." He offers up.
"No…it's too late for that now. You know how he gets. He really is a reasonable boy Jim, but once he's dug his heels in that's it. You won't be able to pry anything out of him now. He's got it so tightly bottled up he's liable to explode if you try. He's angry, hurt, and disappointed so he's simply got to work through it now for himself."
"That's just it Claire. He's always angry anymore. It's been over a year now, and he simply refuses to accept the way things are and move on." My dad snaps at my mom.
"That's not fair Jim and you know it. This isn't his fault. I warned you before all of this happened that we need to let him know where things stand. It's been over for us for a while now, but he didn't know that, and when you finally decided it was time to tell him you dumped way too much into his lap. He was only eleven years old at the time you know." My mom clicked her tongue in her usual way when she was frustrated as she continued not letting my dad speak up forcing it on him.
"I still can't believe you told him about that wom…I mean, about Sylvia. Hell it was even a shock for me. I still think you used it as an excuse to finally let me know you've been cheating on me even though technically we weren't together anymore. I was mad as hell too you know about that, but I understood the circumstances so really don't blame you for what happened. It's different with Sam though."
"No it's not." My dad huffed. "It's none of his business what goes on like that with who I'm seeing and not seeing. He needs to get over it and move on." My dad spat vehemently thinking his reasoning was sound.
"Don't be an idiot. Of course this concerns him, so for once just admit that you were wrong. You are always so cold and calculating, and if it doesn't fit into your nice neat little world then it is everyone else's fault. He's twelve years old not some little kid anymore that doesn't know what's what about these sorts of things. Of course he's still young, but if you take the time to explain things he will understand. You can't simply think that by keeping him in the dark until you are ready, or dumping everything on him all at once is going to solve anything." My mom sighs as she tamps down her anger trying to calm her tone of voice.
She was trying to get my dad to settle down so they could both become more reasonable about the situation. "Jim, it simply isn't fair to Sam. He knows that you love him, don't ever think otherwise, but he doesn't know why this is happening or where it all went wrong so naturally he is mad. He thinks you betrayed our marriage and our family with your actions. I know you are a good man, and I know why things are the way they are, but he doesn't. We need to tell him everything soon Jim." My mom sounds tired now, and I imagine she had probably taken a seat on one of the chairs by the kitchen table since this was no longer a confrontation.
Her comments cut through me as I pondered her words. It made me wonder what other secrets my dad wasn't telling me about, and why my mom was going along with it. I also didn't understand how she could be so forgiving towards the man who had cheated on her with another woman. At least it sounds like she had been mad about it at the beginning since it caught her by surprise too, but why was she willing to forgive him. It frustrated me to no end that there were more secrets my dad was holding on to for himself.
How much worse could things get than them being separated heading for divorce? I mean if one of the secrets is about a divorce that really wasn't a secret. We all knew this is where it was all heading. Maybe it was marriage afterwards, but still, if my dad gets a divorce and then remarries that harlot he's been seeing it really wouldn't surprise me. I'm sure he would have reasoned out already that for me it wouldn't be such a surprise if he remarried. My mind kept on swirling around all sorts of scenarios, none which really made any sense.
"Damn, I hate all these fucking secrets." I mutter to myself slamming my fist on my desk noticing Boxey jump in surprise at my sudden outburst before settling back down keeping an eye on me.
Pounding my fist on the desk also brought me out of my musings as I realize it had gotten really quiet for several long moments now throughout the house.
Finally I heard my mom's voice once more since dad had seemed to have gotten quiet when my mom had taken over the conversation. "So, you are still planning on going through with this?" My mom asks him once more making me wonder about the vague nature of their conversation.
"Yes." My dad replied simply.
"I'm not sure this is the right thing to do." I hear my mom counter making me nervous now as to what they were up to.
"It's the only way Claire. The way he's acting I can't take him. His behavior is so erratic that I'm afraid this is the only way. You know I'd bring him home with me if I thought it would do any good, but he's too angry and I can't trust that he won't do any damage or hurt…someone else." My dad had paused slightly at the end of his sentence making me wonder if he really didn't think of me as some thug who simply went around getting into fights and hurting people.
Sure I've been in plenty of fights over this past year, at least twenty or so if I thought about it, but most of those were simple little spats that were over just as quickly as they started. Most of the times those really couldn't be considered a real fight, but then again, he really didn't know the truth or even ask me what had happened in those instances. I simply got blamed for being irresponsible and punished. Besides, he couldn't possibly believe I'd be able to beat up a woman or anything if he took me home with him, even if it was that harlot he was seeing. Even though I fought to win, I did have standards in regards to who I fought to begin with.
My thoughts were once more interrupted when my mom brought up another matter. "What about Boxey?" She asked.
"What about him?" My dad asked while I muttered the same exact words not understanding the entire conversation now. "We already discussed that as well."
There was a short pause again and I could just see my mom shaking her head at my dad while I began to panic a little wondering if my dad was planning on doing something drastic with my dog. It wasn't Boxey's fault that he wanted to protect me. After all dad was more of a stranger than family in his eyes. Then again, it couldn't have anything to do with Boxey growling at my dad earlier because my dad stated they had already discussed it indicating this is something thought out ahead of time.
"You really don't get it do you honey." My mom's voice drifted into my room before she quickly added. "Sorry Jim…just a force of habit that I'm still working on." I heard her sigh in regards to the whole 'honey' part. "It's your game now though, so I suppose we will have to see how it plays out."
"Don't worry this is all for the best you will see. But you don't think that dog would really have bitten me?" My dad asked his voice sounding a bit shaky at the prospect.
"Probably…I mean…you aren't exactly family in Boxey's eyes, besides it wouldn't have been the dog you needed to worry about." My mom actually chuckled at my dad.
"That's not funny Claire; especially, in regards to Samuel. I mean…I can't believe he was ready to fight me. If nothing else it proves he's gotten a bit too big for his britches." My dad snapped a bit frustrated.
"I don't see it that way, but him fighting you isn't what I was referring to either. I'm the one you need to worry about because I wouldn't have let you lay a finger on him; especially, since it really wasn't his fault and you were being obnoxious and forceful as usual. You may be his father Jim, but I won't allow you to come into our…," My mom pauses before clarifying what she meant by 'our.'
"I won't allow you to come into Sam's and my home anymore distributing whatever justice you feel is appropriate at your convenience. Since you are the one who decided to leave you no longer have the right to discipline Sam or dictate how we run our lives. From now on that will fall to me." My mom sounded adamant about the proclamation.
"You can't be serious Claire. I'm still his father." My dad insisted.
"Then start acting like a father. Once you do I'll consider allowing you to have more of a say in these matters regarding Sam's discipline, but not in how we run our own home. That's off limits from now on because it is one right you lost when you left us." My mom persisted.
"For Pete's sake what's gotten into everyone around here today. First it's Samuel, and now it's you. Hell, even the damn dog has turned on me today." My dad huffed annoyed and a bit out of sorts, but also sounding as if he wasn't willing to argue the point.
"Anyway, I might as well get this over with." My dad commented.
There was a short pause before I heard someone knocking on my door. I knew it was my dad so simply ignored it. He knocked again calling out my name, but I didn't answer. A couple of years ago it had become a firm rule that no one would enter my room unless they knocked and I said it was alright. This came about when one of our neighbors had walked into their son's room, a boy who was about a year older than I was now, and accidentally caught him stark naked while he was getting changed. It wouldn't have been so bad, but the boy had a full on erection that couldn't be denied because he literally was standing butt naked in the middle of the room checking himself out in the mirror.
He wasn't doing anything naughty to himself, just sort of doing the typical things most boys tend to do at that age. He was simply checking himself out being curious about how his body was growing and changing. It was an awkward moment for all concerned, so much so that the boy had just about gone ballistic creating such an uproar in the family as he tried to kick out his mom and dad from his room complaining about how little privacy they gave him.
Of course it didn't help matters any that his parents then proceeded to tell all their friends and neighbors about the incident thinking it was so adorably cute not realizing how humiliating it was for their thirteen year old son to hear them teasing him like this. Add to that the amount of shit that was dished out on him from all the kids in the area and school, it was no shock then that he attempted suicide and ended up in the hospital.
Of course when my mom heard about the incident she had sat down with me and we talked about it. This was when she decided I was getting to that age where I needed to have my own private sanctuary that belonged solely to me. Just like I wasn't allowed to enter my parents' room without permission, no one else was allowed to enter my space. This past year the rule had become an invaluable ally for me with my room becoming a place of refuge from the anxiety and injustices of this world, not to mention my extra curricular activities of jacking off to alleviate those tensions.
"Claire, he's not answering the damn door. Are you sure he didn't sneak out or something." I heard my dad ask while I furl my eyebrows.
It's truly frustrating to find out just how little my dad knew me. I'd never simply sneak out like that without letting my mom know I was gone. Besides, if I didn't have the balls to stand up and leave through the front door then I really was a pussy. In my neighborhood if that were to get out other kids would be all over it and pounce on me like a mountain lion taking down a fawn. It'd be a bloody mess for sure because anyone challenging me like that I'd have to face up to if I were to have any self dignity.
"Oh don't be silly Jim. He'd let me know if he were going out." I heard my mom's voice just outside my door.
"Sweetie, can we come in?" She asked knocking lightly on my door.
"Sure mom." I replied hearing my dad grumble on the other side of the door as she opened it up and they entered my room.
I was still on my computer looking at some of the current events trying to figure out what would be good to do my report on, but took a second to glance over my shoulder as my parents filed into my room. My mom looked tired and worn out, more so than usual. I suppose I really should try to behave more, if nothing else for her. This whole situation with my dad had to be trying for her, not to mention my angry antics over the past year.
Turning back towards my computer screen I notice the topics were the same old bullshit as always so I really wasn't having that much luck finding a good one for my paper. If I had to write this stupid report I wanted to find something noteworthy of my time and efforts. Even though I was considered a bad egg lately didn't mean that I had let my grades drop. In reality, I sort of took pride in my school work and education; unlike some kids in our school who were simply nothing but trouble makers.
My dad noticed me surfing the web and immediately jumped on my case. "There'll be none of that while you are suspended." He barked at me getting Boxey's attention as the dog suddenly became very alert.
Ignoring him I continued to surf the net out of spite. From the corner of my vision I noticed how my mom placed her hand on my dad's arm getting him to settle down. It was a gentle reminder to him that he wasn't to do that sort of thing anymore.
"So what are you up to?" My mom asked politely. "Anything interesting on the computer that you are searching for?"
"Nah, just a bunch of garbage." I exhaled loudly sitting back in my chair swiveling it around to face her. "I've just got this paper I have to work on for school so I figured I'd get an early start on it." I told her answering her unspoken inquiry.
"Oh…I see." She replied glancing at my father who became a bit agitated at her being right about some things.
"I take it this was Mr. Fogerty's doing…your principal at school?" She chuckled knowingly while I nodded my head. "Well then smart thinking on your part. He's a stickler on those types of things."
"Yeah, tell me about it. It's a twenty page paper, but if he doesn't like it then it'll end up being fifty pages." I tell her not happy about the situation, but willing to do the work.
"Well, just as it should be." My dad huffed gruffly inserting himself into the conversation. "It's something to think about the next time you want to…," my dad began as I glared at him while my mom placed her hand on his arm cutting him off.
"What your father is trying to say is that it's good to see you taking the initiative on the assignment, and not taking it lightly. I know you always work hard on your school work sweetie. You always make fantastic grades, and we are so proud of you for that. It shows you have character and take pride in your accomplishments." My mom smiled warmly at me with sincerity while also trying to smooth things over with how my dad seems to always bungle things up.
Again, it really made me wonder if my dad knew me at all. Sure he hasn't been around that much lately, but still he knew I had good grades. He also had to know how I really do treat people fairly in general. I know my mom has been keeping him up to date with my day to day activities, but I really began to wonder if he paid any attention at all to anything in my life other than when I got in trouble.
"Yes…well anyway Samuel your mom and I have been thinking that since you have some time before you have to head back to school maybe a change of scenery would be a good thing." My dad offered up looking nervously towards my mom while I furled my eyebrows a bit confused.
"Um…I don't understand." I reply honestly with a sinking feeling in the pit of my belly.
"Just temporarily Samuel." My dad offers up again making me cringe because I hate him using my first name like that.
"I…uh…what exactly are you guys talking about?" I ask nervously and a bit flustered.
"Well…do you remember a few years back when we went out to your mom's old place? The orchard and farm?" My dad asks me as I think for a few moments before nodding my head remembering how we had gone over for the weekend to close up the house because grandmother had passed away.
It was actually several years' back, and I was probably only seven or eight at the time. It was kind of sad because grandma had been a really sweet woman. She used to visit about three or four times a year, and we'd go down for a few days every summer when time allowed. Mom had grown up on the orchard with these apple and pear trees. I guess it was sort of an orchard and farm all wrapped up in one. When we used to go over I kind of enjoyed the place. It had plenty of outdoor space, and I loved roaming around feeling free and unconfined compared to the city life.
"Yeah…what about it?" I asked cautiously wondering if they were going to dump me in an empty house or something even though I knew that would be absurd.
"Good…um…do you remember the Weilers…the ones that lived on the next farm over?" He asked as I nodded my head recalling how Mr. Weiler let me sit with him on that big tractor of his.
"Yeah sure, I got to ride on their big tractor." I confirmed.
"Yeah…I remember that too. Well…they practically helped raise your mom when she was little and her dad got killed in an accident. Anyway, we thought maybe you could stay with them over your holiday break. You know…just for a few weeks for a change of pace and scenery." My dad smiles trying to sound like this would be a good thing for me, but all I heard was that somehow going away was supposed to fix things.
"What…alone…No!" I get defensive. "Absolutely not…I mean…what about Christmas and all. I've always spent it with mom." I stated purposely excluding my dad noticing him flinch at the offhand rebuke.
"I'd have thought you would be excited about getting away a little Sam." My mom tries to smooth things over.
I couldn't believe she was actually supporting this idea. Somehow I felt it was dad once again trying to get his way with things. He was always so damn calculating and didn't care about how it hurt someone else.
"Mom…I don't want to go. Please don't do this." I pleaded.
"Samuel…I already bought the train ticket for tomorrow morning. Mr. Weiler will meet you at the train station which is about thirty minutes from their place." My dad interrupts as if this simply makes it final.
"It'll be fine Sam…I know it will. Farm life and the open space is in your blood. Every time when we went to visit your grandmother I saw how much you enjoyed it. Of course it is winter time now, but there are still plenty of things to do at the orchard. Walt and Harriet Weiler are wonderful people. You will see." My mom offers up reassuringly.
She was right in regards to how I really enjoyed being out there in the open spaces of farm country, but things have changed since then. I had my friends over here, and I wasn't so sure if there would be anyone to hang out with since the farms were sort of in the middle of nowhere. I was sure I'd be bored out of my mind despite my mom's assurances about there being plenty of things to do. Then I thought about Boxey. I suppose he'd love it out there; especially, the Lab part of him.
"Well…maybe." I conceded a little, knowing it was a foregone conclusion already. "At least I know Boxey would enjoy it out there. I mean all that open space is a dog's dream." I chuckle trying to sound more upbeat about it, but then getting a sinking feeling when I see my dad's face.
"Um…Samuel…Boxey has to stay here. I mean dogs aren't allowed on trains, and I don't think it would be fair to the Weilers taking in such a big dog." My dad tried to justify his statement making me even more furious.
"What…no way. I'm not going anywhere without Boxey. I mean, who's going to take care of him and play with him. Mom's busy all the time working extra hours, and the same thing with you dad. So if he doesn't go, I don't go." I stated forcefully meaning every word of it.
"What…absolutely not. The dog stays here and you are going. That's final. Besides, we already have the train ticket for you, and like I said they don't allow dogs on the train." My dad stated emphatically.
"Then if you force me to go I'll get off at the first stop and come back home. If Boxey doesn't go…then I don't go." I glared back at him defiantly.
This was when my mom stepped in again seeing things were beginning to spin out of control. "Then I suppose you will simply have to drive Sam over."
"What…no way!" Both my dad and I say at the same time glancing at each other suspiciously while mom simply chuckled.
"See, the two of you do have some things in common." My mom laughs breaking the tension while my dad just glares at her.
"Now stop looking at me like that Jim. It makes perfect sense, and is a good compromise for both of you. It's only a two or two and a half hour drive from here so it won't kill either one of you." She emphasizes looking at the two of us for a moment. "Sam you get to take Boxey with you…and Jim…well you don't have to take care of the dog." She pointed out nodding towards Boxey.
Her comment and gesture makes my dad glance over as he notices the dog for the first time sitting in the corner of my room watching us intently. As soon as he sees Boxey my dad automatically flinches because of the dog's expression and demeanor. It was obvious that the dog really didn't like my dad because his teeth were bared and his hackles on his back were rigid.
"Geeze, what the hell is wrong with your dog?" My dad asks reflexively cringing and glancing towards the open door as if to gauge what it would take in order to escape if the need arose.
"He doesn't like you." I tell my dad honestly shrugging my shoulders understanding how Boxey felt about him.
"Then it's settled." My mom offers up getting my dad's attention again.
"What…no…I mean Claire that's like a four or five hour round trip for me. What about the train ticket, not to mention I simply can't take off from work like this…not now…you know?" He states being coy once more as if he were hiding something.
"Well…that's just how it is going to be." My mom tells him firmly letting my dad know the matter is done. "I'll take care of getting the refund back for the train ticket, and you worry about getting the time off from work."
My dad starts to open his mouth to say something, but then shuts it when my mom motions to him that it is time for him to leave. He looks at her for a moment, and then towards me before standing up. The move was a bit too fast for Boxey as he snarls at my dad catching him by surprise. I motion for Boxey to settle down and I watch as my dad slowly exits the room leaving my mom alone with me. I could tell she wasn't done with me yet, almost as if there were some things she needed to discuss with me before I began to get my things together for an extended stay with virtual strangers.
Stepping into the bathroom in nothing but my white briefs I pause for a long time at the sink leaning on the counter. It's been an exhausting day and I'm just about done in. Mom had talked with me for a while about the Weilers and what to expect. I had been a bit leery regarding my stay, and after our little chat I was even more so, actually you could say I was a bit concerned now. It really wasn't anything in particular per se, but still a bit disturbing with how I would fit in at the elderly Weilers' household.
Sighing I glanced up into the mirror noticing the telltale puffiness around my eyes showing my exhaustion. It was the same haunting look I've been seeing on my mom lately making me sort of think people were correct in that I look a lot like my mom. As I looked closer I wasn't so sure about it. I mean, my features sort of looked average to me, while my mom's, well she seemed to have that sort of overall beautiful quality about her.
As I stared in the mirror I tried to decipher what others see when they compare me to my mom. My mom had that sort of evenly proportioned oval round like face with a chin that was narrower than her forehead, and cheekbones that became more prominent when she smiled. As I gazed at myself I began to see that my face had that same kind of shape and look. Stretching my mouth into a forced smile I realized I had the same prominent cheekbone structure as well.
Relaxing my smile my face once more got serious and I noticed that my round like fleshy cheeks kept my prominent cheekbones hidden when I wasn't smiling. A glint captured my attention as I scrutinized my eyes. They most definitely were my mother's eyes that stared back with those striking Sapphire blue hues, which always seemed to betray my mom's mood sparkling fiercely at times with intensity in her deep set hooded eyes when she was more focused while at other times dancing around lively when she was giddy with happiness. My friends often commented how my eyes always seemed to smolder when I was mad, but then came alive when I goofed around with them. I suppose I had to admit I had the same kind of eyes as I looked deeper in them noticing the intensity of my gaze in my more serious like mood at the moment.
Shaking my head to break my own intense gaze I purse my lips noticing how brightly red and thin they were on my full face. In the past I used to smile a lot, but lately my lips seemed to be pursed in a more serious kind of manner. It's something that didn't fit with how I viewed my mom's full pouty kind of mouth. As I thought on it I began to realize that the serious look on my face when my mouth was drawn tight was one feature that emulated my father's expression. Lately that serious kind of expression has been the norm for me. My dad even had that small crease between his eyebrows that I now noticed on myself. I suppose my lips wasn't a bad feature on me, just that I didn't like how serious it made me look as I focused on something else now noticing a beauty mark.
Just above my upper lip next to my left philtrum I had a small pinhead like shape and sized mole that seemed to draw my attention. I chuckle realizing I was using a pretty fancy word, 'philtrum.' It's odd how something can catch a person's attention at times. A few years back I had noticed that crease between a person's nose and lips. I had been curious about it so looked it up. It's strange some things we tend to remember. As I gaze at the little oddity on my face it seems to suit me. I mean lately I've been noticing how people were glancing towards my lips as if focusing on the cute little beauty mark when they weren't focused on my eyes.
Just above my little mole I noticed how I once more began to resemble my mom's features. I had the same small nose which flared out slightly softening up my facial appearance when I wasn't so serious. My eyebrows matched the color of my dark beige blonde hair almost the same shade as sweet latte with light golden brown highlights reminding me of brown sugar. I tried to keep it cut to about a medium length up around my ears parting it on the right side so it swept over my brows in some semblance of order. Despite my grooming efforts it still seemed to always revert to that messy windswept unkempt look. the look was kind of appealing. I suppose my hair was the same as my dads as well color wise, but where he kept his cropped really close to the head I allowed mine to grow in a little giving me that sort of tousled look.
I've never really studied my features in the mirror like this before. I've caught other kids at school doing it while in the bathroom and stuff, but always thought kids who did that sort of thing were a bit full of themselves. I mean for Pete's sake how self-centered. Sure, I see myself everyday in it when I wash up, comb my hair, brush my teeth or at other various times, but I never really looked at myself all that closely in the mirror before which I felt kind of strange now when I thought about it. I must have seen my face a million times, but never took notice. In a way it was kind of exciting looking at myself as I now began to look over my upper torso. Once again I had that average kind of build. I was a healthy twelve year old boy, but most definitely not flabby or chunky. Actually, I could just make out the beginnings of some muscles along my chest and upper stomach. No abs or anything, but most definitely signs of being fit.
Still leaning up against the bathroom vanity counter with my palms flat on the counter top I notice that my arms were on the thin side. Even though they were kind of lanky I could see the faint outlines of muscles indicating my body most definitely was in a transitional stage coming into a form typical of most teenagers. The signs were already there that I'd be the kind of kid with some muscle mass if I took care of myself.
My chest and stomach were flat and smooth with the same creamy clear complexion of my face. I didn't have any problems with pimples yet, and my mom said she didn't think I would like some kids when they begin their teenage years. I discovered a small pimple a few weeks back, but it was gone almost as fast as it arrived making me think my mom may just be right on that account. Thank goodness for that because there were some kids in my school literally covered in zits. Some of them probably deserved it because they most definitely were lacking in proper hygiene while with others it simply didn't seem to be fair because they were meticulously clean. I guess diet may be a factor as well so I suppose I wouldn't have to worry all that much in this regard because I really watched what I ate for several reasons.
As I gazed on my fit physique my mouth twitched into a smile. I had a fairly straight smile, but it was genuine making me pleased with what I was observing. Just then the image of that boy from a few years ago popped into my mind, the one's who's parents walked in on him while he was naked scrutinizing himself, making me nervous about someone doing the same to me. I knew I didn't need to worry because we only had the one bathroom, and when the door was closed it was a firm rule that this meant it was occupied. My mom's never walked in on me or anything, but I still stepped over making sure the button was pressed in the door locking it.
Now as I turned back to the mirror my smile broadened even further. I had been leaning up against the counter with my lower abdomen pressing up against the edge concealing my boy bulge. Now that I had stepped away I could see my bright white underwear with a halfway decent sized bulge filling out the soft worn cottony fabric fairly nicely. That boy from a couple of years ago popped into my mind once more. Now as I recalled him he had been kind of a good looking kid and had been slightly older than me now. I guess it sort of made sense that he'd be checking himself out like this because I sort of felt flattered seeing myself in this half dressed state. It made me wonder what the other boy had looked like naked and if he had a nice looking package swinging between his legs.
Scrunching up my eyebrows I wondered where that thought was coming from as I noticed myself beginning to chub up. I could see the outline of my penis begin to stretch out my tight fitting undies, and it only hastened to excite me more as I kept thinking about that cute boy from a few years back. I began to wish I had studied him more closely, but I suppose those thoughts never occurred to me before. Hell, for that matter I didn't even know why I was thinking about that sort of thing now as my penis inflates to its fullest creating a fairly decent size tenting effect inside of my boy's briefs. I simply stare at it kind of surprised how big it looked from this angle. I've never looked at myself in the mirror before as my hands slowly drop down to my waistband and I tug my briefs downwards letting them fall around my ankles.
"Damn," I whisper to myself as I watch my hand wrapping around my hard pole.
My cut shaft most definitely looked thicker and longer as I rip my gaze away from the mirror and look down at myself noticing it doesn't seem so big now. It made me wonder if viewing it from a different angle made a difference. Even my sack seemed a bit bigger when I looked in the mirror. I gauged my slightly loose hanging boy satchel to be about the size of a large egg as it swayed lazily between my legs. Running my hand over the pale almost translucent like bare pubic mound I sigh a bit disappointed at not seeing any hairs in the reflection.
I focus my attention back to the image of the cut silky smooth brownish pink colored stiff tube in the mirror that was pointing straight upwards practically plastered against my bare pubic mound. It was enticingly erotic daring me to do something so I began to play around a little with my hard wand allowing my supple fingers to probe it gently. I figured it was probably the typical shaft thickness for a boy my age, not quite as thick as holding a roll of silver dollars, yet also not as thin as a roll of half dollars. I suppose it was sort of in-between. I also couldn't be sure about it being about the typical thickness of other boys my age since I didn't have anything to compare mine against.
Of course I've seen porn images and stuff on the internet, but never any of a boy my age. There were times I had thought about surfing the internet looking around just to get an idea of what a boy my age should typically look like size wise since I've never seen another boy naked, but I've heard horror stories of people getting into trouble for that sort of thing. That was one type of getting into trouble I wanted no part in. It was one thing to get into fights and stuff, something completely different when entering the realm of illegal child porn.
However, from images I've seen on the internet of other adult men I did know that although smaller than them, I had a more standard shaped penis head that was both curved and a bit pointed. It was also about the same width as my shaft. The contour of the head was larger at the base than at the tip, and the underside of it was smoothly curved.
It was kind of stimulatingly exciting watching myself play with a hard penis probing it gently with my soft fingers. In a way it was almost as if someone else's fingers were playing around with it, but then again I realized by shifting my imagination it could also seem like me playing around with someone else's hard boy tube. My penis twitched in reaction to such naughty thoughts making me giggle as I watched my chestnut sized testicles jolting upwards. I've felt them do that many times; especially, when I climaxed while jacking off, but I've never actually witnessed them jumping around. Again, it was a naughty sexy kind of game I was now playing.
It's been a while, actually not since I got back from my physical at the beginning of the school year, that I've actually measured myself. Hesitating a moment I decide maybe now would be a good time to see if I've grown any since I'd be gone for a while in a strange place. Who knew what I'd be able to get away with while I was gone in regards to sexually abusing my pre-teen boyhood.
Bending down and opening up the cabinet doors I reach below the counter where all the old stuff has been sitting for years now finding what I was looking for. No one ever rummaged through this stuff under here so it was a good place to stash things so long as it wasn't too odd. Even squatting with my legs spread apart like this was exciting because I could feel my hard erection pressing up against my lower abdomen and pubic mound while my sack bumped around between my legs and lower butt. This was a different kind of naughty than I was accustomed to, and I kind of enjoyed it as I stood back up unrolling the tape measure. It was one of those seamstress tape measures, the kind that was soft and flexible.
My penis was pointing straight upwards close to my body as I stood back up settling in front of the mirror. Pressing my rigid boy tube until it was horizontal to the floor pointing directly at the mirror I giggle getting a good look at the small little slit at the tip of my knob before settling the tape measure in place. I measure my hard tube scrunching up my eyebrows and sigh in defeat. I had hoped beyond hope that I actually had grown some, but truth be told it was still exactly the same coming in at around three and a half inches from root to tip. I suppose for a twelve year old boy that was respectable enough, but still a bit disappointing for me.
Of course I've done the research; especially, after that idiot of a doctor's comments, so knew that a boy my age typically had an average sized erection range between two and a half and four and a half inches. That damn idiot of a doctor couldn't have been any more accurate because I fit smack dab in the middle of average. I mean basically this meant I was average in the average range. In other words double average. Damn bastard of a doctor. Maybe putting average in my head is what was keeping me average. I knew how stupid it sounded, but I couldn't help think that it was somehow his fault.
Releasing the tension on my hard tube I giggled when I heard it slap up stiffly against my creamy smooth like blank slate of a mound. I actually watched my hard shaft rebounding off my creamy smooth surface. It made me chuckle even more because it almost looked like my rigid tube had created hairline fractures in fine porcelain. All those light blue haphazard lines radiating in all directions along the smooth surface of my pale skin now resembled a fractured piece of fine chinaware.
All of this close scrutiny was making me horny as hell. Normally I jack of three or four times a day, but I hadn't touched myself since last night in bed. Earlier this morning I was running late so barely had enough time to drain my lizard, much less pull my wire, so I had simply tucked myself away, washed up, and hurriedly gotten dressed before grabbing my lunch bag on the way out the door without any breakfast. As it was I almost missed my bus. Sometimes I get a chance to do a quickie at school in the bathroom stall if the place is empty, but no such luck today. Then of course there was the fight and the drama once I had gotten home. So my non squirting boy tube was most definitely ready for some action so I quickly jumped into the tub turning on the shower. I yelped in surprise when the cold water hit my body, but I managed to quickly adjust the temperature never loosing the hardness of my boned up silky-smooth tube.
The warm water on my tired body felt exhilarating as I leisurely took my hard fleshy three and a half inch frisky worm in my right fist slowly stroking it enjoying the familiar tingling sensation build up somewhere deep down inside of me. My body shivered reflexively when I ran my thumb along the tip of my knob getting my sexually awakened imagination involved. Lately I've been actually checking other girls out with their perky little breasts. It seemed to help with the intensity of getting off these days while I now tried to conjure up the latest victim of my subtle but detailed scrutiny. It was a bit difficult to picture some of these girls in a sexual way; especially, considering that lately I've noticed how I've been attracted to only certain kinds of girls decreasing my options of perverted fantasies. Then there was the dress code issue at our school; yet, for whatever reasons I noticed how some of these girls looked sexy in just about any outfit.
My juices inside of me were beginning to boil as I began to bring to mind the little fair skinned brunette girl I had been studying just across the circle of desks from mine in homeroom. It was beginning to work when all of a sudden the vision of her soft features seemed to swirl around morphing into someone I didn't even know. It was that new cute looking blonde pale skinned boy that had just moved here. He looked to be about ten or eleven years old with the lightest blonde hair I've ever seen. It was so light that it appeared almost white. I didn't think he was in the same grade as me, and since our school taught kids from the sixth grade through to the eighth grade I figured he had to be around eleven years old.
From the gossip grapevine, which spread like wildfire in our school, I understood he was from some foreign country. Some said he was Russian. He most definitely had that weird sort of accent as his face began to firmly replace that of the sweet little brunette girl I had been thinking about. There was something about this cute boy that excited me. I had only seen him briefly, more like a glimpse today, right when I got into that huge fight with one of the eighth graders.
What I mostly remembered where his eyes. They were the most intense kind of blue I've ever seen reminding me of the color similar to those uniforms worn by people in the Air Force. Yet there were also lighter shades permeating throughout those orbs perhaps enhanced by that starburst pattern of highlights radiating outwards from his dark midnight colored iris to the very deep black wide band forming the outer ring. The combination of the deep soulful black and dark blue hues only seemed to enhance that piercing intense gaze that could shoot sharp arrows through your very soul.
My body began to shiver excitedly, and I knew that I was close now to blowing my cork as I tried to remember something else about his adorably cute pale soft features. My mind began to focus on the thick layered blond hair that hung down to his neck line and slightly over his eyes which seemed barely controllable as it finished of his Nordic looks and features. Instinctively I knew a boy with these kinds of Nordic features stood out in stark contrast to other kids in this kind of integrated neighborhood and community.
My fist was a blur now with my breathing coming in short gasps as I tried to focus on this beautiful boy's face. I began to struggle with maintaining the image in my imagination when my gaze all of a sudden drifted down to his crotch. He was sitting on the floor with a stunned look on his face leaning slightly backwards with his left hand supporting his weight. His left leg was bent and slightly tucked up under his right leg that was also bent but with his foot firmly planted on the floor as if he was trying to get up. This effectively gave me an uninhibited view of his crotch.
As he struggled to get up I remembered reaching down to help him get to his feet. In that brief instance my eyes flittered away from his deep dark blue eyes drifting downwards settling on his crotch noticing how his one size too small pair of used Khaki slacks had slipped up snuggly against his boy package. It created a noticeable nice sized mounded bundle that threatened to burst the stitching on his slacks.
The distinct outline of his young boy satchel clearly revealed an oval shaped cherry sized testicle. I could only make out the contoured shape of one of his testicles, that and the unmistakable form of a boy penis. It wasn't big or anything, but then again I wouldn't say it was small either. I figured it was in a soft state so who knows for sure one way or the other, but if I were I were to venture a guess I suppose I'd have to say it seemed to be about the right size for his age and build considering I really didn't have anything to base this thought on. It looked to be around two inches maybe longer, but it really wasn't fair to size him up like that considering he was wearing pants and it was difficult to gauge all covered up with clothing that tended to be deceiving in these instances, but it was enough for me to know that he looked so damn sexy hot.
It had only been a brief glimpse of what the younger boy had between his legs, even if it was only the bulge against his pants, but it was enough to send my mind reeling as I felt my butt cheeks clamping down while my penis literally pulsed and recoiled like one of those large canons you see in pirate movies. My orgasm ripped through my body and I moaned with the forcefulness of my climax. To date it had to be the most intense one ever for me, including my very first experience which was one of the sweetest episodes of my young life.
"Uuuuhngh, uuuumph, uuuuuuumph, uuuumph, uuuunggggggghhhh." I gasped my breath literally constricting in my lungs with my entire body lurching making me sink to my knees struggling for air. My body continued to convulse with spasms getting to the point where I actually ached from the intensity of the experience. Even my mind had a difficult time coming back to reality while my body twitched in a spastic dance of contortionism. Slowly it began to subside and I tried to get up on unsteady legs. My body twitched again almost sending me back to my knees forcing me to lean heavily against the wall gasping for air.
"Fuck me," I hissed totally amazed at the force of my climax while I made a conscious effort to breathe wondering if something like this was typical for other boys at times.
My eyes slowly came back into focus looking towards the splash wall for any signs that I had somehow managed to squirt. With the severity of my orgasm I would have thought I'd managed to squeeze out something, even if it was a little drop, but no such luck as I gathered my composure so I could finish getting cleaned up. It was late already, and I had to get up early in the morning.
Looking down at myself I giggled at the angry looking purplish red soft floppy bobbing around just above my unusually low hanging satchel. I've never seen my balls hanging that low before, but I guess the extra stimulation and the heat of the shower helped it drop a bit more than usual.
My thoughts returned back to the unknown cute blonde haired blue eyed boy. Our meeting had been all too brief. I didn't even have time to ask him for his name because one of the staff members had immediately hauled me off to the principal's office along with the stupid eighth grader I had just decked after he swung at me busting my lower lip. I was lucky his punch had been an awkward swing on his part or I would have found myself firmly planted on my ass as well alongside the new kid.
Unlucky for the eighth grader though since my punch had connected firmly to his jaw with his eyes rolling back in his head just before he crumpled to the floor stunned for a brief moment at the unexpected solid blow. I already had a reputation at school for being a badass, but he was much bigger than me so hadn't expected me to land such a hard blow. Of course the roll of quarters in my hand did help in this regard. It was something I learned a while back when getting into scrapes. Holding something solid that fit in your hand helped out tremendously when getting into fights, and in this case I was able to effectively knock a kid, who was bigger and older than me, right on his ass. I guess the older boy would think twice about things in the future; especially, getting all up in my face playing at being a badass.
Finally feeling a bit recuperated from my extreme climax I finished up and stepped out of the shower drying myself off as I looked in the mirror pleased now with what my reflection revealed. My egg sized satchel hung a bit looser than earlier as I grabbed the tape measure placing it up against my now soft tube sighing when it came in to the same exact size from several months back. It was still measuring at two and three quarters of an inch. I didn't know what was more frustrating, having the exact average sized erection, or the slightly smaller than the exact average soft penis.
During my research trying to figure things out from various sources I had noted and pieced together that a boy's average soft penis range was probably between two and four inches making three inches the average for the average range. My soft penis was still average, but slightly smaller than the average mid range. So to say I wasn't sure what frustrated me more, my overly average erection or my average ranged but slightly under average softie. I suppose it really shouldn't matter in the big scheme of things because I was still considered typical in that aspect for a boy my age, but that damn doctor really had me going. I really shouldn't let it get to me, but I guess it really showed my immaturity about such matters.
Looking up into the reflection of my eyes I began to shake my head and chuckle. I was really being stupid about all of this crap. I guess when all was said and done these sorts of things really shouldn't matter; although, the whole fantasizing about another boy while jacking off was a new one for me. Not only that, but it had really turned me on confusing things even more. I've never really thought about other guys in this way. Sure I was curious at times what some of my friends were packing between their legs, and lately when one of them were sleeping over or I was spending the night at their place I sometimes took glances when I saw them in their underwear or wearing their soft cottony pajamas.
My friend Steve always wore his underwear in bed. I've known him most of our lives, but I don't ever recall seeing him naked, or him me. The last time he spent the night at my house I glanced at his junk snuggled up inside of his light blue colored boxer briefs. It was a snug fit on him showing off a decent sized hump that seemed kind of about the same sized bulge I produced in my tightie whities making me wonder if he was pretty much like me down there. Even though this had been just last week it seemed odd that looking at my friend Steve that way hadn't turned me on considering how this new boy had made me week in the knees today. Now I was really confused because a boy turned me on, but not my friend Steve who when I thought about it probably had a sexy body all things considered. Comparing Steve to the new boy made me realize I was truly attracted to certain kinds of boys just like I realized certain kinds of girls appealed to me as well.
Shaking my head at these naughty thoughts I sighed noticing how I was beginning to chub up again just thinking about that cute blond boy. Damn, why were my thoughts taking me in this direction. I mean, I was starting to react in the way I do when I see a cute girl so this was downright frustrating, almost embarrassing.
Picking up my green checkered patterned pajama bottoms I began slipping my legs through them. I typically wore only my underwear or a pair of short pajama bottoms, but never both together, and no shirt. I didn't like having that feeling of being restricted around my body when I slipped under the covers. This pair of pajama bottoms was part of a Cherokee boy's three piece button down coat set that had both the long and short pajama bottoms, and a button down style top with a collar and pocket. It was strange that I wore very little to bed because I was always cold at night unless I had several layers of blankets covering me up.
Sometimes I lounged around in the long bottoms and pulled on the large sized top over a shirt keeping it buttoned when it was a bit chilly in the house, but never when I went to bed. I had another set just like this that had a gray camouflage pattern, but had packed that in my little suit case to take with me on the trip. The soft worn cottony material of my pajama bottoms hung low around my waist, and I noticed how it settled loosely around my boy baubles giving you a sense of what I possibly had while at the same time making it a bit of a mystery. In a way I thought it kind of looked sexier this way.
Once more I began to sense myself begin to inflate kind of surprising me since it was so soon after my explosive orgasm, but then again it seemed as if lately I'm always horny and hard. It was like I was popping a boner all the time these days with it being just about anything that set me off. Tonight in the shower was proof of that with the mysterious blond boy that I suppose I might never meet now, or at least maybe not for a while if he was still around when school started back up after Christmas break.
Just thinking about the boy had me hard as a rock now as I finally stepped away from the bathroom counter to open up the door. Since my boner was obviously noticeable I snuck a peek out the door to make sure my mom wasn't around before crossing the hallway into my room shivering a little already feeling a bit chill. Of course our house was heated, but for some reason when I got ready for bed I always felt a bit cold and it took me a while to get warm. Tossing my grimy underwear into my little dirty laundry bag I crawled up under the covers getting settled in trying to warm up. A few minutes later my mom came around to tuck me in and ended up snuggling up with me for a few minutes. I loved it when she did that, but I'd never admit it out loud. After she left I thought it would take me a long time to fall asleep because tomorrow worried me, but I guess the stress of the day had worn me out and before long I had drifted off to sleep.
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