The Experimental Method

by Biff Spork

Chapter 5

Sneaking Glances?

Later that evening, I try to act normal while we eat supper, but it doesn't seem to work.

"Are you okay?" says Mom.

"Yeah. I'm fine."

"You just ate all the broccoli." She looks at the empty serving dish.

"Oh…yeah…I've decided to become a vegan."

"Hey, Honey," says the Dickwad, "you better stock up on peas."

"So no meat?" says Mom quickly, in order to forestall the snappy comeback I'm seeking, while I look into the distance.

I decide, generously, to forego the eye-roll his remark merits. "No animal products at all," I say, giving up on snappiness and pushing my pork chop to the edge of the plate. I need to think about something else, and becoming vegan is good. "No eggs, dairy products, or chicken, fish, meat or honey, or anything that comes from an animal."

"You'll be going barefoot, too!" says the Dickwad. "No leather shoes. I'll pick you up some of those cool rubber sandals on my way home from work tomorrow." He chortles. "Organic rubber, of course. Unless you'd rather just go barefoot." More chortling.

I don't dignify this with a response.

Mom is worried about protein, and that carries us through to the end of the meal. Nevada has been coaching me on veganism for so long, I actually know a little about tofu and lentils and textured soy protein. When I can finally escape to my room, I boot up my computer and check for messages. There's nothing, so I throw myself down on my bed and stare at the ceiling. I wonder if this is what it's like to be brain-dead.

I jump up when I hear the bing-bong-bleep that signals an incoming message.

Cumster: Hey X you there?

Dickup: Hey, DM. Howzit?

Cumster: Ok. You?

Dickup: Ok but weird.

Cumster: You left yr bike here

Dickup: I forgot it

Cumster: R U angry? Or what?

Dickup: No. Im ok. But we need to talk — tomorrow. Ok?

Cumster: I'll bring yr bike over — about 9? We cn go to the beach.

Dickup: Gr8 CU l8er.

Cumster: Gnite

I grab a shower and hit the sack, but sleep doesn't come. It's a little scary when I realize I'm not even horny. I put my hand on it and it perks up, but I just don't feel like it. WTF? I always feel like it!

Somehow, I go to sleep, because when I next open my eyes I can see it's morning. I don't know what happened in the night, but I feel a little normal. I have a good stretch and enjoy Mr. Stiff poking up and rubbing against the sheet. He seems to have recovered his eagerness. I consider having a quickie, but decide that since I am above average for the week I will put it off for later. I roll over to grab a few more snoozes.

In the middle of a really nice dream about something I can't quite grasp, I hear this tremendous banging. It's just someone knocking on the front door — Nevada, of course. I throw some shorts on and bring him into the kitchen.

"Okay, you win," I say.

"Thank God!" laughs Nevada. "I was so worried. Uh, what did I win?"

"Last night, during supper, I informed the other residents of this house that I would no longer be partaking of the animicular substances."

"You're vegan?"

"Yup, and I'm starving. What on earth do vegans like me eat for breakfast?"

Nevada grabs a banana from the fruit bowl and shoves it into my hand. "Eat that now, and we can go to my place, where I'll make you the best breakfast you ever had."

So, we're racing along the tree-lined street while a cool breeze ripples our t-shirts, and I look up into the patches of blue sky above and shout, "Oh frabjus day!" I drag out the syllables for the fun of it.

Nevada pulls up beside me and mimics my dragged out shouting, as we pedal like maniacs, "Why are you shouting?"

"I dooooon't know how to sing," I shout-sing. "Oh frabjus day!"

"Calloooooo callaaaaay" he wails, as we round the corner onto his street. We pound full tilt into his driveway, really going way too fast. Then, as though we had practiced it for years, we simultaneously slam on our brakes. Our back tires swing around, and we stop instantly, lay the bikes down side by side, and head for the front door.

"God," says Nevada, puffing a little, "We are so cool!"

Nevada burrows into his pantry. The air thickens with bowls, spoons and measuring cups, and raisins, oatmeal and other bottles, along with nutritional advice. Fifteen minutes later, we are seated in their breakfast nook with big bowls of oatmeal in front of us.

"Porridge?" I say doubtfully.

"Don't talk. Eat."

It's fabulous; doesn't taste like any porridge I ever ate. "God, this is like dessert. What's in it? What's that weird, delicious taste?"

"The magic ingredient, my boy, is cardamom. Oat milk adds its own creaminess, but the main innovation is cardamom. I am the only person in the world who adds cardamom to oatmeal. You may visit your fine five star restaurants the world over, but you will never find this on any menu. It's a unique and perfect breakfast for a virgin vegan like yourself. I honor your presence," he finishes, and raises a heaping teaspoon in a grand salute to me, before engulfing it.

When our bowls are empty, we sit back and look at each other for a minute. There's a big something in the air, but I when I look at Nevada sitting there with a happy smile on his face, it doesn't seem so important to me. He doesn't seem to want to talk about it either.

Finally Nevada says, "We've got the house to ourselves until this aft. Shall we retire to my quarters?"

So we're standing beside Nevada's king-size waterbed, and I can feel my heart going pitipat. I start to launch into one of the many speeches I've been muttering to myself, but Nevada puts his finger on my lips. Then he reaches down and grabs the bottom of my t-shirt, lifts it above my head, and throws it away over his shoulder. Then he just stands there and looks at me.

Suddenly I know what to do. I reach out and pull his t-shirt over his head, as he raises his arms. Next he unfastens my shorts and drops them to the floor, and I follow suit. Naked now, we sit down on the edge of his bed. He lifts my foot, pulls my shoes off and then my socks. When his sandals are on the floor, we fall backwards onto the rumpled sheets.

Our arms reach out and encircle each other. I close my eyes and merge into the smoothest, warm creaminess as he folds around me. What a blessed feeling! Like I was dying, and now I am saved. I was lost and now, finally, I am home. I feel him kissing my eyelids. He drapes a sheet over us, and we lie quiet and entangled in each other's warmth for a few minutes.

Nevada stops nuzzling my neck and leans back. "I've been thinking about the next steps in our experimental exploration of otherness."

"Mmmhmm. I definitely need more information. What next?"

"Well, I thought that moment we just had, where we clutched onto each other, was sort of special, almost like there was some kind of energy flow between us, pulling us together."

"Mmmhmm. Like gravity or magnetism."

"Ah yes, precisely. I bet that's what they mean when they say animal magnetism. Yes. So let's try this." He pushes me away and rolls over to the other side of the bed, so we are not touching. Then he stretches out his arm. "Reach out and touch my fingers." When our fingertips are touching he says, "Now let's inch towards each other." And his fingers march up my arm. Mine move past his wrist. We wriggle toward each other on our sides until we are nearly touching. "Hmm," he says. "Can you feel it?"

My whole body hungers to reach out and contact his body. I nod vigorously.

"Come, then," he says, and we embrace one another, skin to skin from head to toe. I have that marvelous Christmas morning feeling again, that I just got all I ever wanted, and something even more wonderful is about to happen.

"This is very nice," says Nevada into my ear. "Coming together is enhanced by being apart. C'mon, let's try it once more," and he rolls away to the other side of the bed. We repeat the process, and again I am flooded with pleasure and happiness to hold him close and feel his arms tighten around me. "You see," says Nevada, "Otherness! You can't get that feeling by yourself!"

I discover that my mouth fits perfectly into a warm hollow between his collar bone and his neck.

"You know," he says, after a minute. "I've noticed that we are not the same. In fact, we are quite different. You, for instance have smaller nipples than I do, and their hard little centers are just a little bit lighter in color. My nipples are much darker and a little bigger, with smaller softer centers."

"Our belly buttons are different too," I agree.

"So, I've been thinking it would be interesting and informative for me to examine your body closely, all of it. I mean, instead of just sneaking glances, I want to have your permission to stare closely at all of your parts and to touch them. If you don't mind?"

I'm thinking, sneaking glances? Nevada's been sneaking glances at me? At my body? And here I thought that sneaking glances was something only I did.

"Not at all," I say, "and maybe it would be useful if I examined you at the same time. If you don't mind."

For the next five minutes we paw and probe each other. I look closely at Nevada's chest and armpits. Like mine, they are completely hairless. Then he reverses his position on the bed and fingers my dick and balls. His new position brings his dick and balls close to my face so I can examine them also. I take the opportunity to gently roll his foreskin down. It's a little tighter than mine, and the head of his penis has a different shape — more pointy and not so wide. He has a very firm hard-on — it's like a steel bar wrapped in satin. While I watch, it bobs up and down with his heartbeat. When I touch it, it strains up instantly.

There is not a single hair on his crotch, and his legs are also smooth except for the faintest golden down. I turn him onto his belly and part his bum cheeks. I've never looked at anyone's bumhole before, and I am surprised by how nice it looks, a perfect circle of darker brown skin, like an asterisk or some kind of sea animal. I sniff. WTF! It even smells nice, kind of warm and earthy.

He flips around again so we are head to head, and we kiss and kiss and kiss, holding each other more tightly with each passing minute. As we writhe and rub against each other, Nevada snakes his hand down between us and wraps it around our dicks. He begins a slow stroking. I reach down, and he releases his dick to my hand. It feels like a hot spike. His hand on my dick seems much hotter than my hand ever gets. We stroke each other, and I can tell I'm getting close.

On the very edge, Nevada stops. Again he clasps both our dicks in his hand. A thread of pleasure starts winding its way up from deep inside me. My dick feels his hand and his dick as he slowly slides them up and down together just once. Then he squeezes them together, and we hang in space on the brink. He gives one squeeze again, and I feel an unbearable ooze flowing up through me. We lie perfectly still. Then suddenly, we are bursting and quivering and spurting. We kiss and moan. My legs are shaking and jerking, and my arms are clasping and reaching. I feel like I am melting into him, like the boundary between us is dissolving in explosions of pleasure.

I don't know whether I pass out, or faint, or what, but I lose it — in the best way — and don't come to until I feel Nevada peeling himself away from me. As I swim to the surface, I hear him turn on the shower in his bathroom. I throw the sheet back, look down at my crusted groin, then jump up to join him in the shower. As we towel off I say, "Nevada, we've got to talk about this…."

"Tyler, how long have we known each other?"

"About two years, ever since we met in grade six."

"Okay, in all that time have you ever known me to lie to you, or hurt you?"

"No, but…."

"And in all that time, I've never known you to lie to me, or hurt me. In fact, you've been the best friend anyone could have."

"Yes, but…."

"So listen to me now. Okay?" Our eyes lock together in silence.

"Okay," I say.

"We're in the middle of a fantastic experiment. I don't want to start analyzing the results until we're finished. I don't want any of that talk-etty-talk-talk-talk we sometimes do to get in the way of the raw experience." He stops and looks at me for a few seconds. "I'm really happy we're doing this, and I'm really happy to be doing this with you. I feel like it's a big thing, and I think you do too, but there's not much left of what I imagined so let's complete this. Let's take it just a bit further before we talk about it. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Now," he says with a grin, "let's see what two vegans can find for lunch."

Talk about this story on our forum

Authors deserve your feedback. It's the only payment they get. If you go to the top of the page you will find the author's name. Click that and you can email the author easily.* Please take a few moments, if you liked the story, to say so.

[For those who use webmail, or whose regular email client opens when they want to use webmail instead: Please right click the author's name. A menu will open in which you can copy the email address (it goes directly to your clipboard without having the courtesy of mentioning that to you) to paste into your webmail system (Hotmail, Gmail, Yahoo etc). Each browser is subtly different, each Webmail system is different, or we'd give fuller instructions here. We trust you to know how to use your own system. Note: If the email address pastes or arrives with %40 in the middle, replace that weird set of characters with an @ sign.]

* Some browsers may require a right click instead