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Author Note: This story is a fiction, a reflection of some bittersweet and tragic memories from my adolescence and young adult years.
* * * * * * * * * *
Circa 1971 …
Do you know how weird it is to have a best friend who also has your first name? My first name is Randy, my last name Pike. Randy Emerson (Randy E.) was six weeks younger than me, and we were both fourteen years old and slogging our way through junior high school together with the same first names, having only met on the first day of junior high the year before.
I was a bit of a pill in those days, very much like father, like son. My dad's penchant for mischief saw him growing up bare butt over grandpa's knee, a good hard belting for his trouble, so when he and mom had me, grandpa was said to have looked down at my newborn's face and grinned ear to ear over to his proud son, my new father,
"You just wait! My grandson is going to give you the same grief that you've given me, isn't that right, Randy?"
Great! Grandpa had seemingly pre-condemned me as I did follow suit and got my bare bottom paddled at school for misbehavior as well as a good dose of dad's belt later at home as well for my troubles. Let's just say that at times I seemed bent on trying to break dad's old record for most punished junior high school student in the city. And Speaking of "bent," Randy E. was that way, at least that's how he officially turned out. Otherwise, Randy E. seemed to move through junior high much more comfortably than I.
In those days, homosexuality was a very secret thing, something to be hidden; but my uncle had turned out that way. Dad was a very aware and progressive man even back then, so he had carefully told me about Uncle Marlin very early on and that no matter what, I was never to look down upon him or any other man just because of who he needed to love, in this case a man, instead of a woman.
No problem. I loved my Uncle Marlin and he never once treated me with anything but a great deal of respect. He knew how society viewed him in relation to his nephew and a more dignified man I never did meet, besides my dad that is.
So, when I finally did figure out that my best junior high friend, Randy E. was kind of going the way of my Uncle Marlin, well, for one thing, I didn't say a thing to him or act any differently towards him. If anything, I became protective and tried, in my own way, to help him not get into trouble of some kind just because of who he was.
So, how did that happen anyway? How did I find out about Randy E.? Well, for starters, he and I stuck pretty closely together from the first day of junior high school. We had side by side lockers in P.E. class. I was in a nervous chagrin in those first days over the fact that we had to undress naked in front of our peers to dress down before P.E. class, then again for showers afterwards. Randy E. seemed nervous as well, but in a different way.
When we all got more comfortable, then the towel snapping and other adolescent nonsense in the locker room started up. Naturally, I had to take part in some of the tomfoolery and ended up like the other participants, getting my bare rear paddled in P.E. class by Coach Hart. Boy, he could put any boy into tears with just one or two bare bottom swats, including me of course. I had gotten my share of spankings and such in elementary school before that, but those were always in private over the principal's knee and not that painful. That didn't stop dad from tanning my young hide later at home of course, but you'd think I would learn. I didn't.
The point is, I was one of the boys earning the unwanted attention after P.E. class from Coach Hart from time to time and Randy E. was not. He seemed very shy back then, but the first time I caught him trying to quickly pull up his underwear over his erection without anyone else seeing, was my first inkling that Randy E. was going to have some serious challenges even way back then.
I started to notice how interested and excited his face got when it was time for any boy to get a public paddling and the looks he would give those boys' red rears afterwards, looks that seemed quick and stealthy to him, but not to me. I knew what he was doing from the get go and could do nothing about it of course. I would watch the scene too, but I had no sexual interest in what was going on, I was mostly watching Randy's back in case some other boy might think to take offence at him. Well, nobody ever did.
My first little run in with Randy E. was one day half-way through our first year when we were still both thirteen. Randy was getting bolder about "boy-watching" and still thought I had no idea what he was doing. Not only that, I was noticing him hiding boners from me when he would come over to my house and then sneak off to the bathroom saying he needed to pee, but I figured he went to masturbate himself. I didn't mind if he was getting off at my expense, at least I was a safe haven of sorts for him.
But I got real upset at him when he started to take chances at school. Maybe he snuck off to the lavatories to do his thing during other classes when I was not around him, but I would be damned to not say something if I caught or suspected him of doing it in the much less private boy's lavatory off of the boy's locker room and one day I did. Class was over and most all the boys gone and we knew had an unusual extra free period after P.E. I was watching Randy E. carefully that day as we had witnessed two boys get bare bottom swats from Coach Hart. Randy's eyes had been extra active before, during and afterwards and I just smelled possible trouble. Sure enough, he told me he would meet me outside and needed to pee, it was the same old excuse.
I pretended to walk towards the double door locker room exit and he took off to the lavatory. I doubled back and trying to make sure that nobody else was about, carefully stood at the door-less lavatory entrance and carefully peaked in. If he was at a urinal really peeing, that would be fine. I would pee too and that would be that; but in this case, I saw his shoes with his trousers and underwear gathered at his ankles standing up behind a closed cubicle door, his feet facing the toilet. He wasn't sitting and he was not peeing.
Then I saw his ankles rocking a little and heard some obvious rubbing sounds. I would have just let him do it and said something later, but then I saw Coach Hart headed for the lavatory!
"Randy!!" I yelped loudly. I heard a huge bump and the cubicle door jiggled. It was kind of funny, but at least he stopped and got out of there. His face was beet red as he walked towards me. I scowled at him and just then Coach Hart came up to us and threatened to paddle us both if we did not skedaddle from the gym. We got out of there fast.
Randy rode his bike home next to mine that day, "I wasn't doing nuthin'," he said sheepishly. I didn't say a thing, but I did think he got the point, that day anyway.
Predictably, if I happened to screw up in P.E. Class, Randy E. would see me get my bare ass paddled by Coach Hart. But usually I was behind Principal Stevenson's door getting my just desserts and maybe Randy E. was waiting for me outside of the door. In any case, for months, he would say nothing afterwards and when school was over and we rode our bikes home together, I knew he was dying to say something or make some comment about how I was not sitting too directly on the bicycle seat or if it was still burning.
Then we would stop in front of my house and I knew he might have really liked me to invite him into my house and possibly see my dad go after my butt at home, but instead he sheepishly said, "Guess I better go home now," and I would nod, "Yes, you better," and then I would watch him ride the rest of the way down the street to the end of the block, turn and wave to me and then disappear around the corner to his block on the next street over.
Then I went indoors and confessing myself to my old man, took my punishment from him and that would be that. I really was never in the mood in those early days for my best friend to see me get punished at home, no matter how much pleasure it would have brought him.
* * * * * * * * * *
School and home life moved forward from there. I was so used to my dad doing things with me, just he and I in those days that I really never paid attention to a lot of other boys' family situations including other boys' father and son relationships. I could not even recall ever meeting Randy E.'s dad.
I'll never forget waking up that particular morning months later and my dad finding me before school. I was fourteen then and in my second year of junior high. It was early that fall semester, still in September actually.
"Randy, I need to tell you something, Randy Emerson's parents are getting a divorce. It's not going to be very nice for Randy for awhile. I thought you should know son, in case … well, he may not take it so well."
I knew about divorce way back then, everyone knew about it, but no kid ever wanted to see their parents get a divorce, I know I didn't.
"Thanks for telling me dad," I said and then gathering my school things, flew out the door and finding my bike, rode down my block and around the corner and over to his in a rush, already very worried about my best friend.
Randy E. and I usually rode our bikes to school together every school day morning; but I made it all the way to his house and he never came out and for once, I was too scared to knock on his front door and find him. I just made my sad way to school that day and he never showed up.
In fact it was not until two long days later that I was beside myself and had to find him to see how he was doing, he still was not back at school. I was tired of not seeing my best friend and got on my bike after school that day and headed for his house, determined to see him. I started out, but just before I reached the end of my block, there came Randy E. pedaling around the block towards me.
He stopped and I reached him quickly. He looked kind of pale,
"I've … I've been sick, sorry I didn't tell you," he said very glumly.
"Hey, come on, let's go back to my house," I replied, trying to sound upbeat. He nodded and we rode back together and he followed me inside. Randy E. seemed OK until we reached my room.
He walked in before me, I closed the door. He sat on my bedside, his head down. I could see his face starting to twitch and crumble. I sighed and felt my stomach lurch. He was trying to be brave, but just as I sat down beside him, a tear started to course down his cheek. He said nothing.
"It's … It's OK. I know your parents are getting divorced," I said quietly and then he started to sob.
I put my arm across his back and then he buried his face into my shoulder and he just cut loose, the floodgates opening. Randy E. openly bawled for about thirty seconds worth, me holding him and saying nothing, doing a pretty good job of keeping my own emotions in check.
When he finally stopped and sat up, he didn't look all that much better for it, if not embarrassed for his emotional outburst. All he could quietly say as he stared at his feet was,
"I'm OK I guess. I'll be in school tomorrow," and he seemed to calm down. We talked about other things after that and watched some T.V. before he finally went home.
Later that day after Randy went home, I found my dad in his study, still feeling pretty down myself.
"I talked to Randy today, he was really upset," and dad sat back and looked at me. After a long moment he asked,
"And how about you?"
I just stood there a moment, not really wanting to think about me and what it would feel like if my mom and dad were breaking up. I hadn't reckoned on how much Randy E.'s wretched experience had affected me. My face started to involuntarily twitch and crumble and I started to lose control without wanting to. Dad got up and came over and hugged me to himself and I let out a few loud sobs of my own.
"Don't worry, you'll never have to go through that son," he said as I wiped my face. He pecked my cheek and went back and sat down and I sighed and left the room. He was right though, I never did have to go through that mess, thank God.
* * * * * * * * * *
It took Randy E. another month or so to move away from his sadness and during that time, I noticed school officials, teachers and even the P.E. Coaching staff treat my best friend with just a little more kindness than might be usual. Divorce was looked down upon if you were the adult back then, but the kids involved were never blamed by outside adults. The dark clouds of those sad days seemed to show some silver lining, however. Randy E. and I seemed a little closer together, and spent a little more time together.
Oh, I still had my moments with it. Randy's father had never really paid all that much attention to his son. He was never seen to be active in school activities with Randy like my dad was with me. Then when Randy told me that his dad had even tried to put some of the blame on him for the divorce, I almost got my ass tanned for the verbal outrage I carried on about at home later in front of both of my parents. I stomped around, indignant, used naughty words and everything and only because my parents understood how deeply hurt I felt for my best friend, did I get away with it.
Sooner than later, however, things finally started to get back to some kind of normal. Randy had ceased all of his risky boy watching activities for quite a long time as he recovered, then seemed to start in again, but seemed more careful about it now. He and his mother moved out of their house and into an apartment, but only one block further away.
I got back to my mischief and finally got caught by Coach Hart, two paddle swats on my bare ass that day, everyone including Randy watching. Damn those stingers hurt! Naturally, I knew I was going get my butt chewed out and spanked at home later, oh well!
Randy E. rode his bike next to mine back home that day after school and finally, after all this time asked,
"So, how does your butt feel Pike?" and he was grinning ear to ear.
I smiled. It was just so good to hear Randy's voice sounding good and lively again.
"Oh, it'll survive, but it's not over," I sighed and we continued on to the front of my house and stopped.
"Guess I should go home huh?" he asked.
I suppose that after all we had been through and especially Randy E., I just wanted my best friend to feel good about himself. He had not been taking any undue risks, that I was aware of anyway, and if he was privately masturbating himself over fantasies about me or other boys, so what! So I had a surprise for him.
"Well, I am going to get a good hard butt whipping when I get inside, but … you should come in. It won't take long and then we can goof around. Dad never grounds me after, OK?"
His face lit up and for a few seconds, it looked like Christmas in his eyes, I knew he would assume that somehow he might get to watch or at least hear my punishment. But then he calmed down and tried to look solemn and pretend that it didn't mean anything to him. I almost laughed, it was quite funny.
We went inside and I dropped my books off in my room, Randy E. following me around and I ended up in my dad's study doorway.
"Wait here," I said to Randy E., went inside and closed the door, leaving Randy outside in the hallway. Dad could tell it was one of "those" visits.
"What now?" he asked, looking up at me. I sheepishly confessed, "I got in trouble in P.E., two swats for horseplay."
Dad rolled his eyes a little, "OK pal, let's get it over with! So, was that Randy I saw out in the hallway with you?"
"Um … yea dad … um … can we let him watch?"
Dad looked at me as if I had asked if it was OK for me to become the perfect child and never get into trouble again.
I chuckled, "No really, it's OK dad."
He shrugged, "Sure, it's your show, not mine!"
"Thanks dad," I said and then opened the door, "Come on in Randy, you're gonna watch my old man in action."
"Are you sure?" he said looking like I was handing him a twenty dollar bill.
"Yea, come on before I change my mind!" I said and he walked in. I pointed to dad's leather couch and Randy E. went over and sat and quickly had his knees up around his chin. I knew why too!
I turned and saw dad taking his belt off. I went over and pushed my trousers and underwear down to my feet, then stretched myself over the end of dad's desktop. I even looked around and caught Randy E. just boring his eyes into my bare ass. That was funny, well until dad's belt started to roast my rear. Then, all I could do was hold on tight and put up with about twenty licks, all of them hard stingers!
I stood up after my punishment was over and dad put his belt back into his trousers and then we hugged, me still standing there with my throbbing red bare ass hanging out. Then I pulled my clothes back up and turned. Randy E. was still on the couch, but with a funny look on his face.
We went back to my bedroom and I closed the door, "OK Emerson, now tell me you didn't enjoy that?"
I could see that he had and still was and looked quite embarrassed at my comment, as intended. I had to admit that I felt really mean at that moment in pretty much pointing out to him his obvious state of arousal, but I didn't intend for him to suffer long.
"Wanna see it again?"
His mouth flew open, "Um … sure?" he said hesitantly. I chuckled, walked over to him and shucked down my trousers and underwear to about mid-thigh,
"Go ahead Emerson, touch my ass, I know you want to!"
All I heard was a rush of air from his mouth and his fingers reached out. I never had a boy touch my butt unless accidentally in wrestling class and up till then, Randy E. and I had never tussled or horse-played in that manner; but his touch seemed so respectful and considerate. I could tell he relished it, but I was not done surprising him or myself for that matter.
I pulled up my trousers and underwear again, "Come on, let's go pee," I said with glee.
"Huh? Pee?" he replied.
"Just follow me Emerson, sheesh!" and he did, down the hallway to behind a locked bathroom door. Imagine the look on his face when I took us directly over to the toilet and pulled up the seat-top,
"Now get that boner out and let's beat off together, OK?"
"What?" he asked, trying to be coy.
"I said, get your cock out of your pants Emerson and masturbate with me, is that so hard to understand?"
He nodded in the negative and eyes as big as saucers, did what I told him to do. I had masturbated my share, even occasionally after my spankings at home just to relieve tension, but not every time. I had my own fantasies about pretty girls and such and even had two dirty magazines that I had found inside of an old abandoned shed that I hid and never told anyone about, even Randy E.
And, I had been to summer camp and learned that two or more guys could jerk off together and have a good time. Apparently, Randy had none of these other experiences with other boys as I had. All I know is the look of happiness on his face as started to flog our boy meats together over the toilet bowl, his eyes darting over to look at my cock or my red ass as he stroked his.
"It's OK, you can look all you want," I reassured him. He smiled and his happy eyes darted to my front and back as he stroked his own cock until we squirted our stuff together into the toilet bowl water and then watched it all disappear with one flush.
He sighed, "That was fun!" and I had to agree, it was.
* * * * * * * * * *
I gave Randy E. credit. Even a few months after that mutual masturbation session, he never pestered me about masturbating together again, but he finally did catch hell in P.E. class one day. Randy was not a very good athlete and hated running laps around the track just like we all hated them. Randy tried to avoid doing it one day by stupidly hiding behind a hedge of bushes that were near to one of the track corners, thinking that we weren't being watched. He got caught.
This time, I and the other boys got to watch Randy E.'s bare ass get two hard swats from Coach Hart's paddle after showers. Boy was he embarrassed and on the bike ride back home, I gave him hell,
"Hey Emerson, ass still on fire?"
"Hey buddy, can't sit on your bicycle seat so well?" He just grinned and silently took my teasing, and then we arrived at my house. This was different, Randy E. hardly ever got in trouble.
"Want to come in?" I asked.
He looked at me and then around us to make sure nobody was listening,
"I … um … my dad never spanked me, my mom, neither," and I looked at him, quizzically at first, then it dawned on me.
Since that first time that Randy had watched me get my tail roasted, I had stayed out of trouble and not thought about it again. I figured Randy E. had thought about it a lot at home alone. I decided to take a stab at what I thought he wanted,
"Yea I know, but you should have to get what I get from my dad after I get in trouble at school."
He looked at me, his face a little sheepish. I made sure he understood me, "Don't worry, want me to do it?"
"Will you? Is that OK?" he replied, starting to look excited .
I nodded, "Come on buddy, then afterwards, we can … you know … work it out again."
That seemed to make him happy so we went indoors. My parents were not home, so we had privacy. I had my own belt and had Randy E. kneel on my bed top, push down his trousers and underwear, then lay over my pillow, bare ass up. He didn't even try to hide his half hard-on as he lay down.
"Twenty hard licks Emerson!" I announced. Randy E. had never been belted before and I could see and even feel the mixed tension of both excitement and worry.
I went easy on him the first five until I saw that he wasn't going to quit on me or feel too much pain and then the next five were much harder, the last ten on the same level. I made sure he was grabbing the bed top and had to really try not to yell and take it like a man. He did, he did great and so did I. That boy's butt looked pretty red and I had never done that before!
"OK, you can get up!" I said and he slowly got up, craning his neck around to look at his throbbing butt as his finger-tops gently probed quite a new sensation.
"Wow! That hurt!" and the look on his face was priceless. He looked so proud and I was so happy for him. His penis was soft too, well, for a short while longer.
"Come on Emerson, you're gonna get a boner, so let's just go and take care of both of us, OK?"
He nodded with a comical grin and we went to the bathroom, locking the door behind us. This time, Randy E. was totally into himself, one hand stroking his raging boner while the other one pawed at the rearward located fruits of his courage to have allowed himself the pleasures that he had so much wanted to experience. I just pictured one of the hot girls at school and had a great time myself, standing side by side with my best friend.
* * * * * * * * * *
In a way, that session with me giving my best friend a whipping like I got after school punishment made our friendship stronger yet again, but also calmer. It seemed to settle Randy E. down some, that is he didn't seem so anxious to try and look at naked boy bodies, or maybe I felt more comfortable with him doing it, but probably a little of both.
One thing did finally happen though, Randy E. asked me to do a Saturday night sleep-over with him at his apartment. I talked to my mom about it and she was fine with it, but I wondered if I should have him over my house instead as we had done a few times before.
Mom advised that was not a good idea, that she had talked to Randy's mom and Randy was feeling very embarrassed about having to move into a small and cheap apartment after having lived in a nice house like most of all the other boys. I got the point that my going over to his apartment would help him feel better about his new living situation, so that's what we did.
Besides, that gave a chance for Mrs. Emerson to take me aside and almost tearfully thank me for all that I had done for her son. I wasn't really sure what she knew about her son, only that I guess my parents had told her how I felt about my best friend losing a father in his home with the divorce.
In any case, that was the night that Mrs. Emerson said we could be alone while she went out with friends and would be out till a bit after midnight. Then, I thought just for a tease at her son, Mrs. Emerson said to me,
"Randy P. is in charge, Randy E., OK?" and Randy E.'s eyes got kind of big as he nodded while I just kind of chuckled it off. Mrs. Emerson then left us alone, but as soon as she left, I could just feel Randy E.'s wheels turning.
We watched some T.V. and played some silly card games for a while, but he was getting restless and bored. Then he piped up,
"So, you gonna decide when we have to go to bed?"
Mrs. Emerson had not said anything about bedtimes, but it seemed like Randy E. was daring me and I was up for that. I looked at the clock. I already knew that his usual bedtime on a school night was similar to mine, ten o'clock. It was now just about then.
"You mean for YOU to go to bed. In fact you need to get ready now, it's almost ten," I said with a little cocky air.
"What? You have to go to bed too and besides, that's for a school night stupid, I want to stay up until mom comes home!"he complained.
"Calling me stupid is just going to get you in trouble Emerson, I'm in charge, remember? I don't care if it isn't a school night so you get ready for bed, little boy!" I said with extra emphasis really in the mood to give him a lot of fun grief.
His mouth dropped open and though we were still wearing our trousers, just with no tops, socks or shoes, he pulled up his knees close up to his chin and looked at me, "And what if I say no!?"
OK, so he wanted to play, huh? "Say no and you'll get a bare bottom spanking, right over my knee," just about as confident as I could muster. You should have seen his face; I never saw a face blush so hard, so fast. He just sat there a moment, but his toes were curling in and out under his feet and he was chewing his bottom lip.
As I watched him, I actually felt really good for my best friend just then. I suspected that we were playing out some kind of fantasy for him and I just hoped that he trusted me to just let it happen.
He quickly stood up and I could tell right away he had boned up as he tried to hide it by turning and walking to the hallway as if he was going to do as I told him. Then he stopped and poked his head around the corner,
"No way stupidhead! I ain't going to get ready for bed!" and then he took off to his bedroom, but didn't bother to shut his door.
I nodded, grinned and took my time. I stood up and walked down the hallway and stood in his doorway. Randy E. was sitting on his bedside, knees drawn up once again with the most daring expression on his face. I put hands on my hips,
"You called me a stupidhead. That'll get you a good hard spanking by itself mister, care to go for the belt?" Fortunately, I was wearing a nice belt through my jeans that night, so I whipped it out of the belt loops. His eyes got really big as I doubled it up and held it in my fist, "Well?"
"Ain't going to take my clothes off to change for bed, make me!" he said next. That must have been fantasy number two. Sounded like a wrestling match coming up to get those jeans of his off his reluctant ass.
"I'll strip you off Emerson, you know I can!"
"I'll fight you!" he replied.
"Fine! I fight you back and I'll win OR … I'll just wait till your mom comes home and we'll see what she says!"
"She was just kidding, wasn't she?" Randy E. replied unconfidently. Now I had him. Was she kidding? I wasn't sure, but decided to take his mom's side, just in case.
"Think so huh? I never knew a mom to kid about stuff like that. Think about it!" I said, calling his bluff. He finally jumped to the floor, his trousers just bulging with boner.
"You'll still have to make me, I ain't just doing it!" he said. I was good for it.
"OK, but you're gonna get it!" and tossed the belt to his bed and started in at him.
I wasn't a half shabby wrestler in P.E., but I couldn't say the same for Randy E. He tried, he really did and we ended up on the floor and his boner was just raging hard in his trousers. I didn't mind it at all, but you should have seen him struggle and rub up against me some and he just tried to look like he was fighting me, but he really wasn't.
Pulling his jeans off was easy and so was the rest. Before he knew it, I was sitting up on his bed with him just in his shorts draped over my lap, his boner pressing into my thigh as if he had pocketed a small hard cucumber! Once he was there though, he didn't fight me anymore. In fact, his body language seemed plenty sheepish and embarrassed.
I did not want my best friend losing his cool or his boner; I so much wanted him to enjoy himself. I just played like everything was normal,
"Now, you are getting a bare bottom spanking, I'm taking your shorts down!" and it was like he hid his face from me and helped by lifting up his hips, saying not a word.
I slipped his shorts down and smiled at his cute bare bottom. Yes, I could say that. I didn't care and neither was I turned on, well, maybe a little by the control I was exerting on him, just boy to boy. I slid his shorts down towards his knees to just kind of hobble him a little and then sighed, raised my hand and spanked!
The first couple spanks were really weird, very different than using the belt like I had before. He just made his body rigid and straight out and I just slapped his ass a couple of times to see what would happen. When nobody exploded or the ceiling did not come crashing down on us, I just kind of shrugged to myself and went for it!
I rained down some pretty hard spanks on both cheeks and watched his white bum turn a nice shade of pink before I stopped. At first he didn't move a muscle, then he kind of moaned a little and pushed his boner into my thigh, he still had it! I grinned, "You need more!"
He said nothing and I did it again, five, ten and then up to twenty more spanks, just not too hard. This time I must have got to him a little, I could hear his moans turn into groans and his boner seemed softer when I stopped, but he got it hard enough again with a few more grinds. He still said nothing, keeping his legs straight out in back. I knew he was having fun, I know I was. This business of spanking my best friend seemed kind of cool.
"OK, that was for calling me a stupidhead. Now you're getting the belt for not getting ready for bed," and I reached for and got my belt, doubled it up and then went at it, "Twenty hard licks for you!" I pronounced and then started.
The licks were not like what I did to him before at my house. These belt licks were shorter and not as hard, but they still got to him plenty good. He lost his boner and his face started to bob up and down and I could hear him hissing through his teeth.
Still, Randy E. took his twenty licks and then I stopped, "OK, get up Emerson," I said and he slowly got up, looked around at and rubbed on his sore bottom, his penis getting pretty hard, pretty fast again. Then he looked at me,
"Guess you were right, I should get ready for bed, huh?"
"We both can get ready for bed after we have a good beat-off, you game? "
He grinned and nodded in the affirmative. So we did, we went into his bathroom and did much like we had before at my house, no differences really.
Later on after his mom got home from her party, she really asked me, though with a sparkle in her eye, "So, did he behave you?"
I nodded, "He was the perfect child Mrs. Emerson." Randy was standing right there and rolled his eyes some.
"Now get to bed you two," Mrs. Emerson said, we got hugs from her and went back to Randy's bedroom.
I guess our little play acting earlier had given Randy E. a bit of confidence. He asked me to sleep in his bed with him that night. I was a little reluctant at first. He had never asked before and neither had other guys during other sleepovers. Guys just don't ask other guys to do that. But this time I said I would and did.
I cuddled Randy E. right up next to me. Actually it felt great and we just stayed like that quite a long time before sleep finally came and we ended up kind of back to back by the next morning. Nonetheless, Randy seemed so happy and content that night and for many days after that.
* * * * * * * * * *
As time does, it passes like a locomotive without a destination; it just goes and goes without stopping. High school came around and with it the complications of new activities, lots more friends and relationships and for me Wendy Myer. How did I know that she would become my high school sweetheart and we would one day marry? But I did.
Randy Emerson seemed to start to find himself as well, immersing himself into the school newspaper, band, orchestra and the drama department as well. He seemed surrounded by girls all the time, but that was because of his engaging charm and wit.
I watched all of this and through it all, I never once saw, felt or thought that Randy E. was interested in any of those girls, save for friendship. If anything, his boy watching became more intense, sometimes flirtatious even, but nothing ever seemed to come of it for better or worse. If he was having sex with another boy, I didn't know about it and he never told me. Our friendship seemed to cool a little in all the busy bluster, time spent together greatly reducing.
Finally, junior prom rolled around in our third high school year. Naturally, I was taking Wendy Myer to the prom. Randy went with his best girlfriend, Carla Holman, we would be a foursome. I thought I knew Carla very well and thought that Carla knew about Randy, but I would be sadly wrong.
As the night drew on at the ballroom, somebody had slipped alcohol into the punch. Boy did it go fast after that, but we four got our share. We had booked two upstairs hotel rooms that night, like most coupled pairs had, supposedly one for the boys and one for the girls after the downstairs festivities were done at the hotel ballroom.
Most couples who did that never planned to split up and would do their thing one boy with one girl in one room, the other couple using the other room. I clearly wanted to get it on with Wendy and her with I, but as the time approached I could see panic in Randy E.'s eyes. Carla was, if anything, starting to put aggressive moves on him and when I tried to hint to her that it wasn't a good idea, she flew into a rage at me, a fit of female insult that the alcohol just pushed and encouraged.
We were in the hotel lobby at the time. Wendy knew what was going on, she knew about Randy. I looked at her helplessly. She so wanted to get me in bed and vice versa, but her eyes softened and she took Carla by the hand,
"Sorry Randy (meaning me), but I think the night is over, see you guys in the morning," then she took Carla to the elevators.
We watched as Carla and Wendy disappeared behind the closing metal doors. I looked at Randy E. He looked chagrinned and humiliated. I put my arm around my best friend,
"Come on buddy, let's go to our room, OK?"
He nodded and we went up the elevator and found our room. He sat on one of the two double beds looking shattered and disconsolate. It felt just like the time that his parents got divorced and he felt just as badly as he sat on my bedroom bedside those three years before.
"This isn't right. You need to be with Wendy, not with me," he said, his seventeen year old eyes brimming with tears. I sat next to him, laid my palm on his shoulder and give it a little squeeze,
"No, this is where I should be, with you Randy."
He sniffed a little and wiped his eyes looking so forlorn and then looked down at the floor,
"You may not want to be after I tell you that since junior high and even still, the only boy I ever wanted was you," and then he looked away from me and wiped his eyes again, trying his best to fight off his feelings with a faux stern expression as he prepared himself for my response.
Most boys would be shocked or put off by such a revelation, I was neither; I rather admired his courage to tell me what was on his heart, to be so vulnerable, but that's how he trusted to our friendship. I wanted my response, my friendship to Randy to reflect that trust back to him. Just then I knew what I wanted to do for him.
"Funny, I've made out with Wendy a couple of times now. I was a lousy kisser when we started, but she taught me how and I really like it now. Have you … ever kissed a girl?" I asked him, taking my hand down. He finally sat up and looked at me,
"No … nor a boy," he said sadly and sighed.
Was two boys kissing so much different than a boy and a girl?
"Well, Wendy joked with me once that you can learn anything with practice, even kissing. Come on, I need the practice," and just in saying it, I knew my heart was telling me that offering to kiss with Randy E. only meant that I was kissing a human that I really did love, what harm was there in that? Might he take it wrongly? Maybe, but he was worth the risk.
Randy's eyes seemed to light up some and his lips pursed in a tentative smile,
"I used to dream about it, about being with you. I knew you weren't like me, but I couldn't help it," he said.
I didn't reply, I simply and slowly moved in towards him and he closed his eyes. He was trembling a little. I had trembled when I had kissed Wendy the first time, but now I was confident, Randy was not. As our lips touched, I could even feel the good energy between us, it felt good.
I could smell his breath, it wasn't Wendy Myer's sweet breath, that was for sure, but then again, it didn't need to be. I let the kiss linger a moment, then backed off, very pleased with my effort.
"So, how did I do?" I asked, smiling.
He smiled too, "Wow, now I'm really jealous of Wendy, you kiss so good … Well, what do I know? But it felt good."
I made a further decision of the kind you know you'll only have one shot at, a now or never kind of thing. I just wanted this night to mean something for Randy E., that he was not left out.
I stood up and started to take my clothes off. If I was going to do this, I was going to do it right.
"What are you doing?!" he nervously asked.
"Stripping down to my underwear, so are you."
"What?!" he replied. I sighed and rewound the sands of time a little for both of us,
"Am I going to have to take you over my knee like we did in junior high at your apartment that night, remember?"
He swallowed, "Remember? It's in a shrine in my head. I worship at it every time I … I mean … "and he blushed like hell.
I laughed, "You pervert, come on, get undressed. I have to practice my moves on somebody I trust. Wendy loves it when I come on to her!" I reasoned with him and even found it to be a kind of erotic even with just the two of us in the room alone.
He stood up, looking more and more excited, "Are you sure?!" "Yea, so do it before I change my mind!" and he started to peel off his tuxedo next to me.
By the time we got down to our underwear, he was boned up to the max but still looked pretty uncomfortable and stood there nervously and then suddenly blurted,
"This is a mistake, I don't want to do anything now!"
"For God's sake Randy, you ARE gonna make me take you over my knee!" I said, sat down on the bedside and pulled his butt right over my naked knee!
"What are you doing!?" he yelped in a high pitched girlish tone, his hands flying back to protect his rear.
I grabbed his hands firmly and secured them to the small of his back, "I'm just doing what you want me to." He didn't reply nor did he resist me or try to get away, he just laid there, his dick hard as nails on my thigh.
I looked down at my target, smiled and gave him a couple mild spanks. If he seemed to want to freak, I would stop. He looked back up at me now, "That all you got?!" he gleamed. I was so glad for him just then.
"You asked for it!" I smiled and released his hands and then I started to give him a real spanking, from one seventeen year old to another, guessing from our past that he might really enjoy it. I give him a good dozen whacks on his shorts and then stopped, noticing that his dick was still plenty hard.
"Enough?" I asked. He looked backed up at me, looking pretty excited, "No," he said kind of breathlessly.
"Oh oh! Time for the shorts to come down then," I teased to see if he would back down or try to get away.
He quickly looked away, but that was all. Then I knew he wanted me to do it, but he didn't want to have to ask and he did lift his pelvis up to help and I pulled his shorts down to his knees. There was his naked bum. I smiled and started in again, spanking him just like I did those years before in junior high, only harder!
This time, I spanked until I felt that dick hardness of his get softer and stopped. He was being really stoic about it, didn't say a thing or try to get away as I turned his butt pretty red with my hand prints.
"Enough?" I asked again. This time he looked at me, but I could see the wheels turning this time, something else was on his mind,
"I've never … I want to … you know … suck … " and he stopped short, very unconfidently. I thought I knew what he wanted to do and where I had an advantage. Maybe he had never had or done a blow job, but my Wendy sure knew how to please me in that department, God bless her!
"You got it. Get on your knees mister and suck my big dick!" I growled a little, visions of my girlfriend's able ability dancing around in my head, making me bone up pretty good as Randy slipped off my knees and onto his on the floor in front of me.
"Just take your time, don't let your pearly whites get in the way and have fun, "I said, standing just long enough to push my underwear down to my ankles, reach forward to ruffle his hair and then sat down again. He looked up at me just one more time andthen swallowed and slowly moved his mouth near to my dick.
Randy E.'s efforts were nervous and clumsy, but still joyful to watch. He didn't know what to do with his hands or was concerned of offending me, so I grabbed his wrists and showed him to rub up and down my torso. He took over some then and seemed to relax, didn't seem inclined to go overboard, very respectful of what he was doing with me.
He actually did great for quite a while. I was enjoying myself, that was for sure; but then a bit of over confidence took over and he tried too hard, I guess trying to imitate some pornography that he likely got a hold of and ended up trying to force his mouth and throat down onto the entire length of my almost seven inch erection. He pulled back and ended up on his knees gagging, his face turning red. Pleasure had turned to discomfort and he looked a bit put off.
I smiled and leaning over, grabbed his wrist, "Come on buddy, enough of that, up here with me," I said and then did with him what one of my favorite things was to do with Wendy, just cuddle, in this case with a boy's head on my chest instead of hers.
You should have seen the look on his face as he lay his head down on me. He looked so happy and excited. I could just imagine the satisfaction of what his fantasies about me might have been to have come true, if even for just a little.
"Can we kiss again?" he softly asked. I nodded, "Sure," and then turned us to our sides, facing each other. This time he came forward and very gently touched his lips to mine. I even let my lips part. Wendy and I loved French kissing and I thought Randy E. needed to both know about it and experience it. Yes, it was different, how a boy tastes compared to a girl, but that was OK. Once again, Randy E. just moaned with pleasure and never tried to be anything but as gentle with me as I was with him.
But soon enough the kiss ended and he ended up on his back, looking up at the ceiling.
"I wish … I wish things had been different. I know we can never be lovers, but … you've been my best friend and I just want you to know … " and he stopped himself short in a trance of sorts, just staring up at the ceiling looking a bit lost; but then his facial expression changed and he looked at me, smiling, "I'm horny, let's get off!"
"OK, I've never had a boy masturbate me, have you?" I suggested, remembering something I had done with just one other boy at summer camp two years before.
"No, I haven't," he replied.
All this time, I still thought Randy E. was getting some kind of minimal sexual pleasure with some boy somewhere in some way through high school, but apparently not. We lay on our backs side by side, his fist nervously wrapped around my hardening dick and mine around his. Even though I had done it once, it still was really weird handling Randy E.'s dick.
I had one hand behind my head, he did the same. I have to admit, Randy E. really did a great job on me. He had me squirting my stuff like crazy in no time at all. I had to double my knees up, it was so good. Making Randy E. squirt was a bit more difficult. He so anxiously wanted it to happen, he forgot to relax, but eventually I had him bucking and jerking his body before he drenched his tummy and chest with his own stuff.
By then we were sweaty, spunky and stinky and I was tiring, but there was one more thing I wanted to do for him that night. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and sat up,
"Get in the shower with me Randy, let's wash off and then, just like that night at your place, we're gonna sleep together, OK?"
He smiled, but in his face I saw the realization that he knew what I was really doing.
"We don't have to, you know."
I stood there, feeling a little busted and for the first time sheepish, "You don't want to?"
"No, I want to, but … I know that … well … well … hell, maybe I just better shut up and enjoy it!"
"Good idea!" I said and from that point on, I never felt that there were any expectations, pretence or anything but just a wonderful feeling of two persons enjoying something that anyone should be able to do with another without worry, fear, prejudice or the demands of hormones or of what might come next. It was just being in the moment.
We showered and even soaped each other up, toweled ourselves off afterwards and hit the sheets, me cuddling my best friend front to back just like that time back in junior high school. Randy E. seemed tired, but content, emotionally spent, but maybe spiritually bolstered. I felt the same.
The remaining year or so of High school swooped both of us up and try as we might, connecting again just as friends who should spend time together became harder and more difficult. Our senior year was a whirlwind of activity and mostly with other people, me with Wendy and Randy E. with whomever he could get an audience and that was a lot of people, but never just one. The next spring, for our Senior Prom, I spent the night with Wendy Myer in my bed. Randy E., well, to my knowledge, he didn't go to Prom that last year.
High school graduation was a few weeks later in late May of 1975. We had a senior party in the school cafeteria to celebrate afterwards. Randy E. seemed very pre-occupied during most of the party and then I found out why. Later, I saw him leave the party and followed him out to the parking lot.
I wanted to ask him not to leave, but then saw him with an older boy, a stranger, probably a college boy. They got into a car and then I saw Randy kiss him as they sat in the front seat. I felt very glad for him, but also very sad for us. I felt like my best friend would have to leave me behind to find his own life.
Wendy and I had got closer and closer, going to the same college and life with her was going to be the best and was. We finally married a few years later. I had wanted Randy E. to be the best man at my wedding and even found out where he was, in a big city not far from us finally having found himself and many other men like him. But somehow, we only connected very briefly and it never happened and I had to let it go, just as I had the sickening feeling that I had to let him go.
A few years later, it was 1983. I got a phone call from my dad one day and I could tell from the tone of his voice that it was bad news. He told me that he had found out that my best friend, Randy Emerson, was dying of AIDS in that big city not far from where Wendy and I got married.
Wendy and I found out where he now lived and rushed to visit him. He was living with a lover, Bill, in a small apartment in that city and seemed surrounded by caring people and in those days, that was not easy to come by.
When I saw him sitting in a large overstuffed chair looking so under weight, pale and sick, I felt stunned and knew then that the Randy Emerson I had once known was nearly not there anymore. Many people were afraid of those who had contracted that awful and terrifying disease, wouldn't even touch them. I had no such fear, even if I should have.
Wendy went up with me and I knelt by his side, using every ounce of my being not to fall apart in front of him. His eyes were shallow of presence until I got very close and then he looked at me.
He smiled, "Hey stupidhead," he said. All I could do was smile and reach for him and hug him to myself and did, feeling his arms wrap around me.
Wendy stood up and walked to the back of the room, so did Bill, leaving us together. We talked for a short while, just him and I, about nothing in particular at first, but as Randy E. started to weaken from our emotional visit, he whispered to me,
"I'm so sorry I missed your wedding, I so wanted to be your best man, but … I just couldn't … I just felt so …"
I put my finger on his lips, "No, that's OK buddy. You are my best man Randy, you'll always be, "and he seemed to accept my offering without argument or doubt. A short while after that, Randy's fatigue took over and we had to leave him.
The last thing he said to me before Wendy and I left him was, "I have always loved you Randy Pike, I still do," and he kissed me on the cheek.
I smiled, "I loved you too Randy Emerson and I still do," and I kissed my Randy E. one last time, one on each cheek.
* * * * * * * * * *
For a long while, it was just Mrs. Emerson, Randy's mother, who would go with me to the mausoleum to visit Randy E.'s final resting place. He had been cremated and his mom made sure that his remains were put in a place near to where we all still lived, so that we could visit.
Over time, Mrs. Emerson aged and eventually grew weary of the visits, but I never did over the years. Going to that place made me feel that I still had Randy E.'s spirit in my life. When my first born, Charlie Emerson Pike was old enough, I started to take him with me during my visits and then added Emily May Pike later.
As Charlie became more aware of his surroundings, he once asked me during a visit why we needed to go to the solemn and quiet marble lined building in the middle of the giant cemetery.
"Because Charlie, that's where my best friend is, " I told him.
"But he's dead daddy. You can't talk to him, and besides, you told me I was your bestest friend!" Charlie replied.
"You are, can't I have two bestest friends? I asked my son.
"Ah daddy! You're a stupidhead, you can't have two bestest, can you?" he teased.
"Yes you can so you're a stupidhead too!" I teased my boy back, tickled him into brief hysterics and then picked him up and drew us both near to Randy Emerson's marble headstone.
Charlie reached out to the marble plaque and traced the engraved letters to "Emerson" with his finger,
"That's my name too daddy, my middle name, just like his."
"Yes, that's right. It was on purpose Charlie."
"I know daddy," Charlie nodded as if he really did understand. Then he leaned way over and kissed his lips to the middle of the word "Emerson" on the cool marble surface, then kissed my cheek,
"I love you daddy."
I pecked my son's temple, "I love you too Charlie," then lowered Charlie's shoes to the marble floor.
I touched two finger-tips to my lips and then "kissed" Randy E.'s name with them, whispering almost inaudibly,
"Hey stupidhead, I love you too," took one best friend's little hand in mine and walked back out into the bright sunshine, the rich memory of my other best friend safely tucked away in my heart.
© Copyright PJ Franklin September 1, 2009
Your comments are appreciated. pjfranklinboy2@earthlink.net
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Main Story PageLast updated: September 1, 2009