Giving It To Gary

I remember the first time that I met Gary “The Farm Boy” Fuller, as he was often called. He was 15-years old and the textbook definition of a redneck. I was 13-years old at the time and took a liking to Gary because he looked up to me as some sort of “tough & streetwise” L.A. kid. In his eyes, I was far superior then he or any other kid from the hick-town where he grew up. In reality, I wasn’t even remotely tough or streetwise and Gary was the only one that had this perception of me.

I was actually in the process of better understanding why I seemed to enjoy creating situations where other boys would be able to see my dick. I’d lead them to some secluded location and then suddenly need to take a piss. I never knew what to expect by way of a reaction and that alone was equally as exciting to me. Would this guy be the type to look away, or would he be the type to scold me for not turning away to piss?

Would he give me that “are you gay or something” look, or would he be the type to just stand there with his eyes glued to my pissing dick? – They where few and far between, but there where some boys who suddenly needed to piss just as badly. Some would turn away to do it, but others would just whip out their dick and put it proudly on display like I was.

As if that wasn’t strange enough, I always hoped that when some kid did whip out his dick to piss, that it would be bigger or more worthy of praise then mine. On those ocassions, I wouldn’t hesitate to verbalize my observations with comments such as:

“Jeeze! – you’ve got a big one!” – or – “Dang! – don’t tell anyone that I have a small one, okay?”

My heart would race as I stood there waiting for their reply to my comment. While some totally lacked imagination, others returned the praise in the same nervous tone as I gave it by saying things like:

“Yours is just as big as mine.” – or – “Yours isn’t small, and I wouldn’t tell anyone if it was anyway.”

I had developed the ability to do this without any hesitation. But when I thought about giving Gary a peek at my pecker, it scared the shit out of me because he wasn’t just another 12 or 13 year old like the others. He was on the verge of turning 16 and had hair in places that was still months and years away for from growing on my body. He had hairy legs, underarm hair, and even a trail of hair that started at his belly button and ran downward into his pants. It was obvious that this trail of hair had to lead right down into the bush that was growing around his dick, but whatever images I did have where just that. Images created in my horny little mind and not based on any actual sightings.

My mom wasn’t keen about me being friends with a 15-year old, and I even think that she was suspicious as to why a 15-year old wanted to be friends with her 13-year old son. But after meeting Gary and seeing that he was basically missing a chromizone, she backed off. Eventually the day arrived where I was invited to spend the night over at Gary’s house. I had spent hours coming up with dozens of scenarios that would lead to the removal of my clothing, or at a minimum to expose my pecker to Gary.