Maybe You're Not Better After All
by Jonathan Perkins
Chapter 3
This is a fictional tale of sexual relationship between two teenage boys. The characters are made up and are not based on any person, living or dead. You must be eighteen to read this story. If it is against the law where you are to read stories like this you are kindly requested to leave and not read this story. It is only a fictional story for your reading pleasure.
I look forward to your comments. I appreciate you feedback, good or bad. Send to tryitlikeit27@gmail.com.
Copyright 2024 All Rights Reserved
The van was speeding down a dirt road that was more like a cart path than an actual road. The van was bouncing violently from side to side, throwing Bart off balance and sprawling onto the hard metal floor. He banged his head so hard he knocked himself out. When he came to, he opened his eyes but wasn't sure where he was. It was dark and damp and smelly. He was sitting against a wooden wall, his hands and feet bound with some flimsy rope. As his eyes got accustomed to the darkness he concluded he was in the boathouse at Uncle Vinny's lake house. There were two small windows that hadn't been cleaned in years and afforded very little light to enter the building. The large door where the boat would drive in was closed with the bottom below the water line.
He had to calm himself so he could assess his situation and try and determine a course of action. Suddenly he remembered Eric being shot and left on the side of the road for dead. Was he dead? Did he bleed out of did someone come along and find him before it was too late? Damn it! Why didn't Eric just do as we were told. He'd still be alive and they would get out of this together.
"Calm down, Bartholomew Lancaster Worthington V. If I panic, I w'll end up just like Eric," Bart said out loud. "I know Father had expressed his opinion on paying ransom before. It would only lead to more demands. But maybe it would be different when it is his own son's life hanging in the balance. Or maybe not. He can be quite stubborn and he would have to choose between looking weak by giving in to the kidnappers or upholding family traditions at the cost of his only son. Fuck, I am a dead man walking! Or in this case, sitting, tied up and helpless."
Feeling mad at himself, he banged his head back against the wall he was sitting against. Again, thoughts of Eric, his Father and his potential impending doom had him in full panic mode. The boathouse was closed up tight and the air was stale and stuffy, causing Bart to begin to sweat profusely. His wrists were getting wet with sweat, making the ropes slippery. He began to work them, pulling and twisting and tugging his arms trying to loosen the cheap rope that they used to tie him up. His wrists were getting chaffed and sore but he was making progress. Despite the pain, he continued on until he felt one hand sliding through the rope. His other hand was quickly freed as well. He bent forward and untied the rope binding his ankles. With a great sigh, he was free. He ran to the door but found it locked. He wasn't free yet. The door was locked from the outside. He pushed as hard as he could but it wouldn't budge. He backed up and ran at it, hitting it with his shoulder. The only result of that maneuver was a sore shoulder. He looked at the overhead door where the boat would drive in. The bottom of the door was below the waterline and Bart had no idea how much room, if any, would be under the door. As he was considering if he should jump in the water and try to get under the door he heard a noise as the back door was being unlocked from the outside.
"Smile pretty for the camera. We need a picture for your Father so he knows you're still alive. For now anyway," Bobby laughed as he opened the door.
Coming from outside, Bobby's eyes had not adjusted to the darkness in the boathouse. Bart grabbed an old canoe paddle that was hung on the wall. Just as Bobby was fully inside the door, Bart swung it with all his might, slamming down on Bobby's head, knocking him into the water in the docking area. Bart didn't know if he killed him or if he'd drown but he wasn't going to hang around to find out. He ran out the door and looked around to see where he could escape. He had no idea where to go so he just ran in the direction away from the boathouse and the main house, through the woods and hopefully to the main road.
Bart might be at home in a concert theatre hall or an art museum but he was like a fish out of water in the woods. Every time he dodged a tree or a low hanging branch, he ended up changing direction without realizing it. He was winded and had a pain in his side from running for what seemed like hours when in fact he had only been on the run for less than twenty minutes. He finally saw a house up ahead of him. He mustered the last on his energy and ran towards the house. He ran up on the porch, holding onto the post at the top of the stairs to steady himself. He was about to reach out and knock on the door when it flew open and a big burly man stepped into the doorway, aiming a double barrel shotgun at Bart.
"What the fuck are you doing on my porch, punk?" the man demanded to know.
Bart was wheezing and trying to get enough breath to speak.
"I . . . was . . . kidnapped . . . and just . . .escaped. Would . . . you . . . call . . . the . . .police for me."
"You came over from Vinny Battaglia's place, didn't you?"
"Yes sir."
"I'm tired of you gangsters running away from that mobster and ending up at my place. I told him I was going to shoot the next one that drifted this way."
"Please, sir, I am not one of them. I was kidnapped by his nephews. Please call the police before they find me."
"If they show up, I've got enough shotguns shells for them too."
Bart escaped only to have put himself in worse danger. It was too much for him and he collapsed on the porch and sobbed so hard his whole body was shaking.
The man looked towards the woods when he heard voices.
"Hey kid, come on back, we ain't gonna hurt you," the first voice said.
"The hell we ain't. My head is killing me from that smack with the oar. When I get my hands on him . . ."
"Shut up Bobby. He'll never come back if he thinks you going to hurt him."
"Ain't no thinking to be done, I'm gonna hurt him worse than he did me!"
"Shut up!"
The old man looked at Bart, a blubbering teenager slumped on his front porch, and then back at the woods. They were coming from Battaglia's house so maybe the kid was telling the truth. He aimed his shotgun at the woods and fired a shot.
"You mother fuckers go back where you come from. You come any closer and I won't be firing no warning shot."
He heard the branches rustling as Bobby and Randy high tailed it back to Vinny's house.
Bart inhaled quickly and stopped crying in mid sob, sprawling himself flat on the porch.
"Relax kid, I wouldn't shoot you on my porch. Blood is a pain in the ass to clean up. Made that mistake once, ain't going to do it again. Get up and let's go inside."
Bart stood up cautiously, frozen in place, and looked at the old man.
"Well, come on. You don't see a phone out here, do you? I'll get the sheriff out here and he can deal with you."
Bart nervously walked into the house and sat on the couch in the living room. The old man called the sheriff's office and told him what Bart had said. The old man held the phone away from his mouth and turned to Bart.
"Hey kid, is you last name Worthington?"
"Yes sir, Bartholomew Lancaster Worthington, the fifth."
"Damn, boy, that name is bigger than you." Putting the phone back to his mouth, "Yeah, that's him. Send someone over to pick him up. I ain't no damn babysitter."
The old man hung up the phone and walked to the table in front of the television set.
"Shit! You made me miss the end of my show. Dinner is probably cold, too."
"I am sorry sir but thank you for saving my life. They murdered my friend and I am sure they would have killed me as well."
"Whatever. At least I got to scare the shit out of those assholes next door. Hopefully they won't bother me again for a while."
Bart sat on the couch, his legs together and his hands in his lap, his back as straight as a board. The old man looked at him and shook his head.
"You want something to eat?"
"No thank you. I'll just wait for the sheriff."
"You just going to sit there like a statue?"
"I am perfectly comfortable, sir."
"Suit your self."
The old man picked at his food, then got up and took his plate and coffee cup to the kitchen.
"If the sheriff doesn't get here soon, you'll have to wait outside. I'm going to bed soon."
Fear grabbed Bart at the thought of sitting outside in the dark, wondering if Bobby and Randy would dare to try and come back again. The old man noticed the nervous look on Bart's face.
"Don't worry kid, they wouldn't dare come back again tonight."
His assurances did nothing to assuage Bart's fears. Bart's ears picked up the sound of tires on the gravel driveway. He jumped up and ran to the door as the sheriff's car pulled to a stop. He got out and approached the house. Bart and the old man both came out to meet him.
"Hey Brewster, I appreciate you looking after the kid until I could get here. It's been a busy day for me. First the kid on the side of the road that had been shot then . . ."
"That was my friend Eric! Did he survive? Is he dead?" Bart blurted out.
"He was alive when they put him in the ambulance to take him to the hospital. He wasn't in good shape but he was alive."
"It was the man named Bobby that shot him. He is one of the kidnappers," Bart continued.
"Your friend Eric told me all about it before he passed out. That's why I was down in this area. I know Battaglia's lake house very well. I just came from there," as he pointed to the back seat of his cruiser.
Sitting in the back seat in handcuffs were Bobby and Randy, sneering through the window at Bart.
"OMG, you have caught them already?" Bart asked.
"Yeah, thanks to Eric and the information he gave me. He was bleeding out and his only concern was to make sure I knew everything so I could save your ass," the sheriff laughed. "A real true friend you've got there."
"Okay, enough gabbing. I've got to get to bed. Take the kid and get out of here, will you?" the old man complained.
"We're going Brewster, don't get your knickers in a snit. I know you've been through a lot today and this might be uncomfortable for you, son," the sheriff said turning to Bart, "but you're going to have to ride back with them in the car."
"I have to ride in back with them?"
"No, of course not. You will ride in the front seat. I've notified your parents that we found you safe. They had received the ransom note just before I called them. They are going to meet you at the hospital so we can get you checked out."
"Can I see Eric when we get there?"
"I don't know about that. His parents are with him and I'm not sure if he is even out of surgery yet. He had two nasty wounds to be tended to."
Bart sat in the front seat in his usual position when he was nervous or concerned, knees together, hands on his lap and sitting straight up in the seat. His mind was on Eric and he paid no mind to the thugs in the back seat. They were only a few miles from the hospital but it seemed like hours to Bart. When they arrived, the state police were waiting to take the two men into their custody. Bart thanked the sheriff and headed for the emergency room entrance.
"Not so fast, young fellow, wait for me. I have to stay with you until I can turn you over to your parents."
"Yes sir, of course sir."
Bart slowed his stride but kept walking towards the entrance. The automatic doors opened and he looked around to see if his parents had arrived yet. There was no sign of them but he did see who he assumed were Eric's parents, sitting together with the man's arm around her shoulder, trying to comfort her as best he could while their son was being operated on to save his life. Bart wasn't sure what kind of a reception he would get from them, putting their son in jeopardy but his manners and upbringing dictated that he do what was proper.
"Excuse me, are you Mr and Mrs Brown, Eric's parents?"
Eric father looked up at Bart and nodded.
"Yes we are, do you have any news about his condition?" he asked.
"No sir, I just arrived here. My name is Bart, Bartholomew, I am a friend of Eric's"
Eric's father stood up with fire in his eyes.
"You! You weren't supposed to anywhere near our son! That letter from your lawyer said if my son came near you he would seek civil and criminal penalties. How the hell can you say you're his friend?" he screamed.
"Sir, my Father sent that letter, I had no knowledge of it and would have stopped him had I known. Eric and I had a difficult beginning but now know that we are friends. He saved my life, not once, but twice."
"Maybe he shouldn't have. Then he wouldn't be laying on an operating table clinging to his own life!"
Eric's mother grabbed her husband's arm and pulled him down in the chair.
"Please, let's not argue right now. We need to just pray for Eric to come through this."
"I am sorry I interrupted you. I just wanted to introduce myself and let you know how badly I feel for what happened. I will pray for his recovery as well," Bart said as he backed away from them.
Eric's father just glared at him with daggers in his eyes. His mother gave a weak smile and a nod.
Bart walked to the desk and inquired about Eric. He was still in surgery and there was no news yet, He walked back and took a seat at the far end of the waiting room. He still didn't see his parents anywhere. The sheriff walked over to Eric's parents, removed his hat and held it with both hands in front of him.
"Mr and Mrs Brown?"
"Yes," Eric father answered.
"I just want you to know your son is a real hero. A passing car found him on the side of the road with two gunshot wounds. They called for help and I was the first one on the scene. Your son was fading in and out of consciousness but when he saw me he reached up and grabbed my uniform and told me all about the kidnapping. He gave me so many names and details that I was able to not only apprehend the suspects but also get Bartholomew back safely," he said pointing to Bart. "Eric begged me to save his friend, paying no mind to his own injuries. If he hadn't done what he did, I'm afraid Bartholomew wouldn't be alive. Yes sir, a real hero, your son."
Eric's parents smiled and shook his hand, thanking him for telling them that. Eric's father looked over at Bart with contempt, wondering why Eric would put his life in danger for that uppity rich kid.
The sheriff walked over to Bart and escorted him to the front desk.
"This young man needs some medical attention. He has a pretty nasty bruise on his head and cuts and scrapes all over him. His parents are on their way so I'll stay with him until they arrive."
She took Bart into one of the treatment cubicles and went for a doctor. The doctor came in and checked him out, asking him all kinds of questions. He told the sheriff that Bart was fine and would probably have a headache for a while from the bang on his head he had received. The nurse came back in to clean and bandaged the worse of his cuts from running through the woods. She escorted him back to the waiting area. Bart immediately noticed that Eric's parents weren't there. He ran to the desk and asked about Eric again.
"They just went to the cafeteria to get a coffee. They'll be right back."
"Any news on Eric yet." Bart asked anxiously.
"No, I'm afraid not. He is still in surgery."
Bart went and sat down next to the sheriff.
"Thank you for getting him here in time to save him. I know these types of things are all in a day's work for you, but you have no idea how much this means to Eric and me."
"Thanks, I'm just glad I could be in the right place at the right time. I wasn't too far from him when the call came in."
Eric's parents came back from the cafeteria with their coffee. Eric's father glared at Bart and sat down, slowly sipping his coffee. Almost a half-hour had passed when Bart's parents finally entered the waiting room area. They looked around and saw Bart and waved him over to them. Eric's father saw them and was about to stand up and confront them when his mother grabbed his arm and pulled him back down, giving him the look that said 'don't you dare'.
"Let's go Bartholomew, I have to get back to a meeting I left to come here," Bart's Father said as he put his arm on Bart's shoulder to herd him out of the waiting room.
He never asked if Bart was hurt or Eric's condition. Bart stopped in his tracks and brushed off his Father's arm.
"I want to stay and make sure Eric comes out of the surgery alright."
"Nonsense. You're not a doctor so there is nothing you can do for him. There is no need to waste your time sitting here when you can find out in the morning if he lived or not. Now let's go."
"These are some prescriptions for him and the doctor would like to talk to you before we discharge him. Bartholomew is suffering from a mild concussion and needs to be monitored," the nurse at the desk explained to Bart's Father.
"He looks fine to me. I'll have our own physician examine him in the morning. I have to get back to my meeting so get moving!" he said sternly to Bart.
Knowing how stubborn his Father was and that he was going to have to leave, Bart started walking but then staggered and stumbled. He Father stopped and looked at him.
"I will be fine, Father, just a little dizziness," Bart lied.
Bart started to walk again then put his hand against the wall and slowly slumped to the floor.
"I am fine, I just tripped," he lied again.
"Quick, someone bring a wheelchair! This young man is not going anywhere just yet," the nurse ordered.
Bart's Father looked at him, shook his head and looked at the nurse.
"Call me when he's ready to go home," and handed her his business card.
The nurse glared at him with contempt. How could a father be so uncaring about his son. She helped Bart into the wheel chair and returned him to the examination cubicle. As soon as Bart saw his Father walk out the door, he turned to the nurse.
"I really am fine. I just couldn't leave until I knew that Eric was okay," he said softly to her.
"No, you're not fine. You're so worried about your friend that you are willing to commit medical fraud," she smiled. "You get up on the exam table and try to get some sleep. You've had a trying day. I'll let you know the minute I hear anything about your friend."
Bart smiled and thanked her. He knew he wouldn't be able to fall asleep worrying about Eric. He was out like a light in a matter of minutes.
Bart was gently woken up several hours later by the nurse. It took him a minute to realize where he was. He reached up and grabbed the nurse's arm.
"Is he out of surgery?"
"I'm not supposed to give his information to anyone but immediate family, but considering what the two of you have been through, I'll make an exception. He came through the surgery fine. He in the recovery room right now but will be moved to a regular room by morning. You can see him then," she explained.
"Oh, thank god. Thank you so much for the good news. I will be leaving now and come back in the morning."
"Oh no you won't, young man. You're staying the night for observation."
"But I am fine. I told you I was faking."
"You might be saying that just so you can leave. Maybe you're faking about faking."
Bart looked at her with a wrinkled brow, trying to figure out exactly what she was saying.
"I'm going to have you assigned to a regular room for tonight, possibly right next to your friend's room when he is moved," she smiled.
Bart put his head back on his pillow and let go of her arm. Smiling at her,
"Thank you. Thank you for everything."
The nurse came back shortly and had Bart get into a wheelchair. She took him to the fourth floor and told him he would be in room 410. When Eric was ready to be moved he would be in room 411. Bart looked in room 411 as they passed it. He saw the empty bed, praying that by tomorrow morning Eric would be resting comfortably in it. He got settled in his room and drifted off to an uneasy sleep, waking up whenever he heard footsteps in the hall. None of them stopped at the room next to his so he would listen for few minutes before dropping off to sleep again.
The fist rays of morning sun shone through his window, waking him to a new day. It only took him a minute to realize where he was and why. He slowly got out of bed and walked to his door. He looked up and down the corridor and didn't see anyone. He walked to room 411 and peered in. A wave of relief flooded over him as he saw Eric in the bed. He crept in quietly and went to his bedside. There were IV tubes running into his arm and all manner of electric cords running from his body to the monitor on the other side of his bed. Bart did know the blood pressure and the pulse readings. The rest of the numbers were fluctuating up and down, maybe a good thing, or maybe not. He noticed Eric's blood pressure was 95/69, unusually low, and his heart rate as well, his pulse registering 45 beats per minute. This did not look good. He had an idea what the normal numbers should be from the annual physicals he was required to take for school.
Bart grabbed a chair that was in the room and pulled it up to Eric's bedside. He sat down and looked longingly at his wounded friend. If only Eric had not tried to stop the thugs, he'd be healthy and at home getting ready for school right now instead of lying in the hospital fighting for his life. A tear rolled down his cheek as Bart feared for the loss of his newfound friend. If he had gone home after his suicide attempt and finished the job, things would be different. He took his hand and placed it on top of Eric's hand. He gave it a little squeeze then relaxed his grip but left his hand there. The flashing numbers on the monitor caught his eye. Eric's blood pressure was rising, slowly but going up a point or two every time the numbers refreshed. His heart rate was also climbing. The blood pressure had risen to 105/72 and the pulse was up to 54, both still going up.
A nurse hurried into the room and went right over to Eric, checking his cables and the monitor. She looked at Bart briefly then went back to checking the equipment. She put her stethoscope on his chest and checked his pulse at his wrist with her hand. She looked at Bart's hand on Eric's and then looked directly at Bart.
"I don't know what you did or if this is just a coincidence, but his numbers have been low since his surgery. Nothing we have done could bring them back up," she explained.
"I didn't do anything, really I didn't."
She looked down again at his hand still on Eric's hand.
"I think you did."
She smiled then furrowed her brow as she looked back and forth between Eric and Bart.
"I know you two boys. You were in here a few days ago on suicide watch and your friend here conned his way into your room with a flower delivery. Now he is in the bed and you're the visitor. What's going on?"
"I was ready to go home and finish what I started the other day until Eric came to visit me. I realized he was actually a good friend and cared about me. That gave me a reason to live. He saved my life that day. Yesterday I was kidnapped and Eric saved my life again. I owe him so much. I just had to be here with him."
"He's still unconscious but I think he knows you're here. His numbers are still improving."
Bart felt Eric's hand move. It rolled over and told a hold of Bart's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
"Oh my god, he just squeezed my hand! You are right, he knows I am here for him!"
"I'll go get the doctor. He wanted to know the minute Eric regained consciousness."
Eric opened his eyes and looked around the room then looked right at Bart. He opened his mouth and tried to talk.
"Shhh, just rest. No need to talk," Bart told him.
Eric stuck out his tongue to wet his lips.
"What the fuck are you doing here? You're kidnapped," Eric said softly, then smiled.
The tears of relief and joy flooded down Bart's face, realizing that Eric was going to recover. The doctor came in the room and checked Eric's vital signs then pulled the dressing aside to check his wounds.
"Amazing, simply amazing. The power of friendship," he said, shaking his head and leaving the room.
"I have to go notify his parents that he is awake. You can stay with him if you like."
Eric squeezed Bart's hand again and smiled.
"I am not going anywhere," Bart proclaimed. Looking at Eric, "You just rest and get better."
An hour went by and Eric's parents came in the room. His mother ran right over to his bedside, Bart moving away to give her space. Eric opened his eyes when Bert let go of his hand then smiled up at his mother and looked over at his father, slowly nodding his head.
"I will leave you alone," Bart said as he headed out the door.
Eric's father reached and grabbed his arm.
"I'd like to talk to you outside for a minute."
"I know, sir, I should not have been in there. But I was very worried about Eric. I am sorry."
"My wife and I had a courier some to our house last night. He hand delivered a letter from your father's attorney apologizing for the initial letter and rescinding any limitations on Eric seeing you. I was surprised your Father would send a courier for that instead of just mailing it like last timel."
"My Father did not have that sent, I did. He had not consulted me about the first letter and he had no idea the relationship between your son and myself. I called the lawyer myself last night and demanded he make this right immediately."
"I know Eric was devastated when we received the first letter. Evidently the two of you are better friends than any of us adults knew."
"It is a long and complicated story. I am sorry I got Eric hurt. If you would prefer, I will stay away from him if that is what the two of you would prefer."
"What happened yesterday wasn't you're fault. But what happened this morning was because of you. The nurse told us all about it when she called us. I hope you and Eric will remain friends and put all of this behind you."
"Eric saved my life twice and this will only have strengthened out friendship."
"Will you come back in the room with us?"
"No, I will leave you to have some private time with Eric. Tell him I will come back later this morning to sit with him."
"Thank you, Bart."
Bart went back to Eric's room a few hours later. Eric was awake and more alert than earlier.
"How are you feeling?" Bart asked.
"I feel fantastic! I think when I heal I'm going to go get shot again it feels so fucking good. How the hell do you think I feel?" Eric laughed.
"Yeah, that was kind of a dumb question. At least your sense of humor survived."
"I can't wait to get out of here and get back to school, believe it or not?"
"I believe it. You are a people person and you want to be with your friends."
"I'm with my best friend now but I wish we were some place else."
"I will be discharged later today but I will come back and visit you every day."
"You better. I'm in no condition to hunt you down and give you an ass whooping."
The boys both laughed. Bart was discharged later that day but came back every day to spend time with Eric. Bart went to Eric's house the day he came home and brought some make up work from school. They worked on it together until Eric got tired. He wanted to take a piss before he slept and asked Bart to help get to the bathroom. He had crutches but wasn't too steady on them yet. Eric threw back the covers and was naked.
"Whoa, Eric, you are naked."
"Yeah. My boxers chaff against the bandage on my thigh. Hurts like hell when it snags so I leave them off."
Bart felt his stomach tighten at the sign of Eric's naked body. He knew helping his friend to the bathroom should be strictly platonic, but Bart felt his cock twinge.
"Give me a hand with my clipped wing, will you?" Eric said pointing to his wounded leg.
"Sure."
Bart felt his cock start to stiffen when he reached out and took a hold of Eric's naked leg. Eric also had a strange reaction to Bart's touch but the pain of moving his leg and upper body overwhelmed any other feelings he was having. With both feet on the floor, Eric reached out to Bart to help him stand up. Bart pulled him up and put his arm around Eric, trying not to touch the bandage on his abdomen. Again, the touch of Eric's naked flesh pumped blood into Bart's groin no matter how much he tried to convince himself that what he was feeling was wrong.
They got to the bathroom and Eric stood in front of the toilet, Bart still at his side to steady him.
"Do you want to sit down?" Bart asked.
"No, I'd rather stand so I don't have to bend my leg."
Eric took his cock in his hand and started his flow of piss. Bart was trying not to look but couldn't resist the urge to glance down. His heart raced as he fought the urge to reach out with his other hand and put his hand on Eric's cock and aim it for him. But he refrained from making a move. Eric finished and shook his cock to get the last drops off.
"Do not shake it more than twice, remember?" Bart joked.
"You bastard," Eric snickered. "It's been five days since I jerked off and that's like a lifetime for me."
After all they had been through in the last week or so, Bart was still surprised at Eric candid comment.
"I tried earlier but my side hurts too much. Guess I'll have to wait a little longer."
Bart was starting to sweat. His friend was suffering from blue balls and he would be happy to help him. But would Eric want that or would he freak out and end their friendship. As much as Bart wanted to do something, he didn't want to jeopardize their friendship when Eric needed it most. Bart stole another glance at Eric's cock and saw it had stiffened slightly. He quickly looked away and helped Eric return to his bed. Eric sat down and was full hard by then. Bart helped lift Eric's wounded leg back onto the bed, carefully avoiding the bandaged area. His lifted Eric good leg, putting his hands higher on his thigh. As he swung him up, Bart's hand accidentally brushed Eric's cock. Bart's face turned bright red and apologized.
"I am sorry."
"I'm the one who should apologize. You help me to the bathroom and I throw a boner at you," Eric giggled.
"I am such a deliriously hot stud, it os totally understandable," Bart said with a straight face.
"You better hope I get off in the next day or two or you might be in trouble."
Bart's face turned a deeper shade of red. His heart was beating ninety miles an hour at Eric's comment, trying to figure out if there was more to it than just the usual banter between straight friends.
"Now I have urinate. I will be right back."
Bart hurried off to the bathroom, thinking he would have to jerk off to get rid of his erection. As he was pissing he heard Eric's mother come home from the pharmacy. She came right up stairs to say hello to Eric and give him his prescription for his pain medication. The sound of her voice made Bart's cock go soft. He finished and came back to Eric's room.
"Bart, I'm so glad you can come over after school to be with Eric."
"My pleasure. We have been working on his make up work from school."
"His physical therapist is coming later this afternoon to work with him so his leg muscles don't tighten up and atrophy from not being used. The only time she has available is right when I usually make supper. I only have two more days I can take off from work and I don't want him miss out on his physical therapy."
"I can stay and be with him if you would like?"
"Oh, I hate to put you out. You'll probably want to get home for supper yourself."
"It would be no inconvenience. We do not eat until 9:00 PM when my Father gets home."
"Thank you, that would be wonderful."
Eric's mother gave him a kiss on the forehead and went to start supper. The physical therapist showed up and was coming up to his room.
"Hey Bart, could you get a towel from the bathroom so I can cover up. It's one thing for you to see me naked but I don't want to embarrassed in front of her."
"Of course."
Bart returned with a towel and helped place it strategically over Eric's private parts. He stood back and watched the therapist as she massaged Eric's back and his leg muscles then flexed his legs in several different directions to help keep him limber. Bart was trying not to be obvious but he stole glances at them whenever he could. The sight of his near naked body, covered up only by the towel, and her hands working his skin had Bart in a state of envy, wishing it was his fingers instead of hers touching Eric. When she was done she told Eric that his insurance would only cover two more visits so she would be back tomorrow and the next day. Then she went downstairs to talk to his mother.
Bart came over the next two days and they worked on homework again until Eric's mother and the therapist arrived. Eric's exercises were moving his healing along rapidly.
Bart would come over and work on homework for a few more days. He noticed that Eric needed help again to get to the bathroom. His legs had stiffened up without the visit from the therapist.
"Eric, you are not getting any better. As a matter of fact, I think you are stiffer now than when you first came home. I know your insurance will not cover anymore visits but I would gladly pay for them myself. After all, I am the reason you are like this in the first place."
"I'm not a charity case, Bart. I appreciate the offer but I can get along okay without her."
"You obviously can not. If you will not let me pay then let me fill in for her. I watched what she was doing and I can do the same," hoping to himself that Eric would agree.
"Let an unlicensed therapist put his hands all over me and man handle my precious body?" Eric said with a smirk.
Bart blushed at the thought of "putting his hands all over Eric's body".
"Well the hell with you then. Lay here and let your muscles shrink up until you can not get out of bed." Bart replied in a snit.
"I'm only kidding. I'd appreciate the help. Just don't go too hard, it's been a few days and I have to loosen up again."
"No problem. I will take it easy and you be sure and let me know if I hurt you. I will go get a towel to cover you."
"You're not going to see anything you didn't see the other day. I don't need a towel."
Eric flipped off the covers and lay naked before Bart, waiting for him to begin.
"She did you back first if I remember correctly so turn over."
Eric started to turn over and groaned as he twisted his body. Bart reached out and helped him turn on his stomach. Touching him and seeing the beautiful ass that lay before him had Bart's cock spring to life. He put his hands on Eric's shoulders and massaged his way down his back.
"Damn, you're good at this. Maybe even better than her," Eric commented in between an occasional moan.
"I am not doing it too hard, am I?"
"No, it's perfect."
Eric would move and stretch now and then as Bart moved to a new area. He got to his ass cheeks and moved his hands to the top of Eric's legs, not stopping at his ass..
"Did you forget something?"
"No. I did not see her reach under the towel so I assumed she did not work on your buttocks."
"She didn't but my ass is sore from being on my back all day. You're doing great so don't short change me now," Eric giggled.
Bart was happy to oblique. He moved his hands back up and gently massaged each cheek, one at a time, then pressed them together and spread them apart. He wasn't sure if this was a proper technique, but pushing them together gave him an excuse to then spread them, giving him a perfect view of Eric's pink pucker. He so wanted to massage that sweet hole, maybe stick a finger in it or better yet, lean down and massage it with his tongue. Bart was brought back to his senses when he felt a drop of precum push its way up his cock and out of his piss slit, leaving a wet spot in his underwear. He moved his hands back to the top of Eric's thighs, being careful not to get too close to the bandage on the wound.
"Aw fuck, that felt incredible. Thanks," Eric moaned softly.
Bart felt another drop of precum leak into his underwear.
He worked his way delicately but firmly down Eric's legs. Then he lifted one foot at a time and bent the lower legs back towards Eric's upper body. He didn't get too far when he felt Eric tense up.
"Sorry, I will go slower."
"Yeah, just a little at a time. I'm out of practice, remember?"
Bart lowered that calf and lifted the other calf about to about the same position. Then back to the first leg and lifted that calf a little more. Taking his time and alternating between the two legs, he stretched the muscles enough to get the calf almost all the way back against the upper thigh.
"There, the backside is done. Now let me help you turn over and I can work on the front."
"Maybe that's enough for today," Eric said quietly.
Something was wrong but Bart wasn't sure what.
"Did I not do it right?"
"Hell no, you were better than she was. I'm just tired. Maybe some more tomorrow."
"Okay, but let me help you turn over."
Eric passively resisted but let Bart turn him over. Now Bart understood. Eric's cock was even harder than Bart's, standing tall and proud.
"I'm sorry about that."
"No big deal."
"Are you saying I have a tiny dick?" Eric asked to break the tension.
"Oh no, you have a lovely penis, one anyone could be proud of."
As soon as Bart said that, he wished he could take it back. Even if it was true, it's just not something you would typically say to another guy.
"Thanks. For some reason it seems to do that whenever you're around."
"Understandable. You said you have not ejaculated in several days so it is very reactive to any kind of stimulus."
"A lot of words to say I'm horny?" Eric snickered.
"Enough small talk, let me get back to work."
"Talking about my pecker is small talk? There you go again, insulting my manhood."
Bart blushed and started to massage the front of Eric's thighs. He did both thighs and then lifted one leg at a time to bend the knee and rotate the hip. He was sure Eric's cock would have relaxed by know but he was leaking as much precum as Bart's. When he reached over to bend the other leg, Bart's arm brushed against Eric's boner. Eric's closed eyes shot open and a smile came across his face.
"Excuse me," Bart said sheepishly.
Eric didn't say anything and just closed his eyes again. Looking at Eric's stiff member, precum slowly dripping down the side of the shaft, his naked body stretched out in front of him was more than Bart could stand. His hands began to tremble and he knew it was now or never if he was going to take a chance.
"A good therapist is supposed to keep you limbered up and not let you get stiff, correct?" Bart asked Eric.
"Yes and you've done an excellent job. Thank you so much."
"Obviously I have not finished yet. There is still one part of you that is extremely stiff," Bart said as he wrapped his hand around Eric's cock.
Eric inhaled quickly at the unexpected feeling of someone's hand on his virgin cock. Eric had only been fooling around with his comments and innuendoes and hadn't expected anything like this to happen. It felt weird but it also felt great. His cock stiffened even more at the Bart's touch. It took him by such surprise that he didn't say nor do anything to discourage Bart or indicate he wanted it to stop. Bart took that benign response as a signal to keep going.
Bart began to move his hand up and down, pulling the loose skin of the shaft up to the tip and them back down again. This movement spread the precum all up and down, making Eric's cock slippery and easy to stroke. Eric's face was expressionless but he uttered a subtle moan every now and then, followed by a quick exhale. Bart couldn't read Eric's reaction and hoped this wasn't going to ruin their friendship. He had read how sometimes friends do things like this in the heat of the moment but then have buyer's remorse after the climax. Be that as it may, it was too late to stop now. He increased his speed and applied more pressure until he felt Eric lift his hips and growl between his clenched teeth,
"Oh yes! Oh mother fucker, yes!!"
Bart was holding Eric's cock straight up as it let loose it first volley of cum, shooting almost three feet in the air. The next seven, yes seven, shots of cum didn't reach the same heights but were just as volumous, covering Eric's upper body with puddles of white, warm cum. Eric was breathing hard, causing his chest to rise and fall, the puddles of cum running off his sides. Eric reached down and smeared the cum around his chest and stomach to stop it from dripping on his bed.
"Let me get you a towel," Bart offered as he stood up off the side of the bed.
"Thanks anyway but I have to go to the bathroom."
Eric got up without saying another word and walked to the bathroom all by himself with no assistance from Bart. Bart was sure that he had made a huge mistake jerking off Eric. It was over, he knew it. He didn't want to make this any more awkward that it already was so he headed for the bedroom door just as Eric was coming out of the bathroom.
"I am sorry I got carried away. I will be going now. Maybe I will see you in school."
"If I knew you would be upset, I would have stopped you but it seemed like you were enjoying what you were doing."
"I was. Were you?"
"Obviously I did physically. Mentally, I'm not so sure. I mean I like you as a friend but I don't think I'm gay or anything like that. I guess it will take me a while to process all of this."
"I understand. So, I will see you in school?"
"So you're just a 'stroke it and scram' kind of guy?"
Bart looked at Eric in total confusion.
"You'll be back tomorrow, right?" Eric asked.
"Yes, if you want me to come back."
"Of course. We have more homework to finish and your physical therapy routine did more for me than she did. Look, I got up and walked to the bathroom all on my own. I've never felt better. I'd like you to keep doing it, at least the first part, if you would."
"Of course I will. That is what friends are for."
Bart gave Eric a hug and jogged down the stairs two at a time. He hadn't screwed up their friendship after all. He wasn't sure if Eric would ever want to do anything like that again, but he still had Eric as a friend and a fantastic memory to relive when he
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