My Yearbook

It has pictures of 3 kinds of guys.  Guys I had no real desire to know.  Those I knew.  And those I wanted to know better.  My name is Craig.  I can't tell you what finding this website was like to me, but if you're a guy in2 guys, but not filth, -- maybe you already know... 

My friends -- mostly team mates are the kind of guys that you learn to respect.  Despite the differences in personalities, they're all stand-up guys -- which means that you don't push 'em unless you like the taste of wire holding your jaws together.  They work hard, play harder & we watch each other's back.  Early on, I was given a nickname: "GLUE".  I was called glue because I held the bunch of us together.  I was the peacemaker -- & the guy most likely to get punched breaking up a fight.  I learned early on that if you didn't take it personally, & treated the guys like they were more important than their screw-ups -- that you'd get that level of unconditional love returned.  When you have that attitude, the likelihood that you'll get punched drops to near nothing anyhow.  Of course, being guys -- we avoided the touchy-feely conversations & usually didn't use words longer than 2 syllables.  Except for me.  I guess that both side of my brain were talking with each other more than my buds.  I dunno.  It just seemed that while everyone else was only thinking about the party-high, I was planning the actual details of the next one - or something. 

I wasn't raised in a religious family, but I had some neighbors who were really great people & took the God-thing ultra seriously.  They use to take me places as a kid & talk to me -- so maybe the reason my mind was turned on was because my neighbors encouraged me to think about the deep sh*t in life.  As Patty would always say: "You're gonna be dead a lot longer than you're alive, so maybe planning for the contingencies would be a good idea."  By the time I was 13, I had set my mind not to drink, smoke or do drugs.  My teammates knew that & respected me for it, but some of them did do those things & while it bothered me -- I never put them down for it.  I was known as the "nice guy" ... the "GLUE". 

As I edged into my teens, sports became a bigger part of my life because it seemed that people took them more seriously at that age.  And, you could get college scholarships if you performed well.  So, I worked out all the time & got my teammates into it too.  By my mid Jr. year, the training was paying off in more ways than one.  Since I had this laid-back personality that didn't talk much until circumstances required that I step up to the moment; -- so I listened & laughed a lot more than I talked.  And the talk I was listening to?  Parties, Panties & Puberty.  I think they're the same conversations teen dudes have been having since the dawn of time.  Honestly, I was concerned & put off about the "party" mentality.  The only panties I saw were my mom's hanging on the clothes rack and puberty meant keeping my feelings waaaay suppressed because I was really "bonded" to my team mates & sprung wood when I'd think about them in my private mind.  While I really loved being close, I had no inclination to do anything to anyone arsehole.  Since "everyone knew" that fags did asses, I figured that it was just a guy thing I was going through; & I sometimes saw my buds sporting wood & wondered if they might be going through the "phase" too.  Sex ed was totally meaningless and I wasn't about to ask what it meant when you got wood at the sight of your naked bros (but didn't want to phuck them).  Nope ... that sounded too much like "fag fodder" question.  Couldn't be risked.  Besides, there was the cheerleader named "Mary" who hung out with me all the time & told her friends I was a shy guy who needed privacy to get revved up.  The only thing revving was my car engine that I worked on during the weekends when Mary would visit.  And at parties ... "I'm with Mary".  Yeah, Yeah ... I know ... but is was the truth.  Mary was, in reality, a good friend whom I had no inclination (at all) to phuck ... but "everyone just assumed"...

It was weird.  We were all pretty open about "guy things" (no longer talking about Mary now).  And, 1-on-1, my friends were more open with me because I never -- NEVER put any of them down.  It doesn't mean I didn't call them to the carpet on stupidity, but I never let them think that I thought they WERE their shortcomings.  Often, on leaving to go separate ways after talking .. I'd insist on a hug.  I'd even wrestle them for it; - & yeah -- all the fag slurs & homo-insults got voiced, but I always laughed it off.  We'd end up wrestling pretty hard & if the hug wasn't surrendered they'd be wrestled until it was. Sometimes they'd get tickled or pinned & the "homo" would nuzzle on them & plant dry kisses all over their neck & torso until they gave up the "hug".  It was all roughhousing in play & my friends knew that I would NEVER hurt or disrespect them.  Of my friends, there were (2) who really pulled my heartstrings.  They were Paul & John.  They were both total studs & great athletes.  John was the more aggressive of the two & was a partier.  Paul was more subdued & usually initiated the hug after we'd been talking things over alone.  John was one I often needed to wrestle for it.  He simultaneously hated & loved it - & embodied the double mindedness that many men battle internally of a need to be loved but a fear of somehow being emasculated by it.  I believe the latter is a latent fear of being raped -- the ultimate form of personal insult & disrespect.

My first memory of being really concerned for John was on a Saturday morning when I showed up early at a friend's house where there had been a party the night before.  A lot of the people who had attended were out of school & there had been a liberal amount of booze flowing.  Behind the property, there was a motor home parked.  Since John was not in the main house, I went around back & went into the motor home.  The morning was kind of cold and as I went into it, there were some people standing around & still drinking -- probably on speed or something.  I greeted them with a smile & nod & walked toward the rear of the motor home looking for John.  As I reached the rear compartment, there were two chicky-women - late teens pointing & giggling at something on the bed.  Rounding the corner, I saw John -- passed out on the bed in a pair of gym shorts (no underwear) & the awkward way he was laying was exposing his genitals -- amply shrunken from the cold morning.  In the overhead compartment was a blanket that nobody had bothered to put over him to cover his nakedness & protect him from the cold.   But, they seemed aware of his condition enough to point & laugh.  I felt the anger well up inside me.  I was angry at John for becoming that vulnerable for no good reason (than 'drunk'); -- but I was more angry at the crowd that found amusement in another person's weakness - & yet did nothing -- not even lift a blanket to restore dignity & relieve another person from the cold.  If humanity is damned, it will be for such reasons.

I took the blanket from overhead & unfolded it -- laying it over John.  One of the women was looking at me & asked, "Hey good look'n, what are you up to."  Completely sober-faced I responded, "Beat'n sluts & chewing bubblegum; -- And I'm all out of bubblegum.".  Both of them gave me a slightly shocked look & then got the hint, -- leaving the small compartment.  I closed the narrow door behind them & locked it.  It was 8:30AM.  I shook John.  No response.  His breath was strongly boozed & his pulse was hard & fast as his body worked to rid itself of the alcohol.  His normally perfect hair was messy; -- his expression lacked the normal muscle tone & he had a slightly bloated look from all the fluid in his system.  Over the next minute, I could hear louder voices as the "sluts" reported to the others in the motor home that I was "all out of bubblegum".  I could feel the structure shake some as they exited.  Have you ever noticed how one person bent on doing the right thing can make so many other unprincipled people feel uncomfortable; - While causing others - who had been in the middle of the road to suddenly swing in the direction of principle?  Salt of the earth, indeed.

I hated the thought of people talking badly against my friend & I wanted to make sure he never made the same mistake.  I thought it over for a few minutes & got an idea.  I slid his gym shorts off completely & hid them in the overhead compartment I had pulled the blanket from.  Other than being cold-shrunk, everything looked OK 'down there'.  I wrapped him back up in the blanket; & then I laid down beside him (kicking my shoes off) -- & pulling him toward me so I could wrap my arms around him to help him gradually warm up.  His lips were blue & he occasionally shivered -- in bursts.  Nobody was gonna phuck with my friend any more today -- & maybe, he'd learn his lesson when he woke up.

At noon, John's stirring woke me up.  He was disoriented but glad to see me.  He said he needed to take a massive piss, so I opened the door & looked.  Nobody was inside other than the two of us.  "Coast is clear to the men's room, Sir.", I remarked in a friendly manner.  John unwrapped himself from the blanket & asked, "Dude, where are my clothes?".

"I dunno.  You were like this when I got here.  I got the other people herded out of here & then I wrapped ya up in that blanket so you wouldn't freeze to death & people wouldn't phuck with you any more..  The shock of realization crept across his face.

"Any more?", he asked with a worried expression.

"Yeah", I replied with my head down. "You don't want to know & I don't want to talk about it.  I gotch your back covered."  John shook his head in self-disgust.  I put a hand on his shoulder & reassured him: "You're OK, bro.  I don't dis ya.".

He walked to the small bathroom & went into it closing the little door behind him.  I swear, he pissed for over a minute straight.  While he was in there, I grabbed his shorts from the blanket compartment & tossed them toward the front of the RV -- under the little table.  John came out of the bathroom & came back into the rear sleeping area -- sitting beside me.  He half heartedly pulled the blanket over his waist.  "Dude, you must be so disgusted with me.", he apologized.

"I'm not disgusted with you, Bro.  Everyone screws up from time to time.", I assured him.  "I'm kinda glad that it was me that found you like this & not some perv.", I continued.  "If anything bad happened to ya, -- it would wreck me."  John's eyes were watering up.  I reached around him & gently pulled him into me where he buried his head in my neck & cried quiet guy sobs -- still influenced by the alcohol.  I just hugged him & slow rubbed his back.  "Hey, do you feel like do'n the beach?", I asked after a couple of minutes of hugg'n on him.  "We already have a blanket & I know where's there's a nude beach that attracts harp-seals & Canadians.".  John's body stiffened some as a chuckle shook him.  "We could always set up a booth to let people play 'Find the pickle' for 50 cents.", I went on.  A harder chuckle shook him & a puff of laughter exploded past his lips.  "Of course, 50 cents might give people the impression that you were a slut.  Let's not go below 75.". 

John's chuckle broke into deep laughter as he began to push away from me, -- red faced & smiling while he laughed out, "You faggot pimp..."

I immediately put a mock expression of insult on my face & very visibly directed my gaze down at his crotch; & then in my thickest lisp said, "Oh, name calling ... is this going to come to blowthsss", -- putting lisped emphasis on the word blows.  John was laughing so hard now that his face was red & there was almost no sound coming out of him.  In a quick movement I wrapped my arms around his upper body & pulled his arms behind his back & wrapped my legs around his.  Pushing my weight into him, I forced him to lay down as I began to slowly tickle his right side -- right below his rib cage.  He twisted & struggled with voiceless laughter robbing him of air as I continued my torture against his lower obloquies by alternating hands & sides.  He managed to get out a few good slurs including "Y..yoh..You...F...F..fah..Fag!..."

"Well", I egged, "At least I'm not some 50-cent pickle-booth slut like someone else I know.", - as I continued to tickle him to quiet hysterics watching his upper body struggle, as his bare feet & toes flailed, -- searching for anything to leverage him a better position.  When his face got that purple color with a frantic expression on it, I let up.  As he caught his breath, still staring him in the eye I said, "I luv ya ... you cheap pickle booth shut.", -- & planted a hard kiss on his right cheek. 

I sat up -- giving him a hand up at the same time.  He was still red faced, but smiling & feeling better.  I glanced down the length of the RV & said, "I think I see something you might be interested in.".  I got up & walked down to where his shorts were, & picking them up,  -- tossed them back to him.  "At least we found those.", I said. 

"Man, yeah.", John replied with some relief.  "I wish I knew where the rest of my clothes were".

"Is there a hot tub indoors?", I asked.

"Seems like there is.", he replied after thinking a few seconds.

"Well, let's go in.", I suggested.  The steps down off the RV revealed a number of broken bottles on the lawn between the RV & house, so I motioned for John to hop on my back as I 'piggied' him to the back porch.  We went in after knocking (but no one answered).  We went to the bath where the hot tub was (nice place).  His tank top, sneakers & Khakis were there.  He got dressed -- still swaggering some from the hangover; & we exited out the front door.

We went back to my house.  When we got there, my parents were gone so we headed up to my room in the remodeled attic.  John was hurt'n pretty bad from the hangover by this time so I gave him a few Tylenol & he just kind'a collapsed on my bed half out of it -- watching the ceiling fan slowly rotate above the bed.  I laid down beside him & put my arm over his chest & partly around him as far as my reach would comfortably go.  He reached up with his left hand & rested it on my arm as I snuggled into him.  We laid there like that for a few minutes -- me soaking in the feel of his broad muscular body in my embrace.  Then he asked, "Hey, I'm kind of cold ... could I get under the covers?"

"Yeah, probably the effects of the booze on ya still.  Get those clothes off though...", I added. "The sheets are clean & I don't want to mess them up.".  John began to sit up, but plopped back down.

"Oh, man ... I've got no strength & I'm so sore all over...", he groaned.  I smiled.  Sitting up, I loosened his shoelaces on his right sneaker & slid it off.  I did the same to his left.  His athletic socks were the thick white ones with Nike logos & they weren't even broken in yet -- new out of the package without preformed heels.  Hooking my thumb under each, I removed them & brushed the cotton-lint off his feet.  I noticed how the hair on his legs swept down onto the tops of his wide feet & fanned out -- thinning as it neared the tops of his toes.  I undid his Khakis belt & that allowed his shirt to untuck.  As I began to pull it up over him, he raised his arms.  His lightly hair-dusted belly gave way to a chest with just a line of hair down the center & some around his flat nipples on his strong triangular pecs.  His pits were fuzzy & arms were well muscled.  I pulled the top part of the covers down as his body was elevated. 

"Lift butt.", I said as I looped my thumb into his loosened Khakis.  As he lifted up, with one hand I slid the covers down the rest of the way & with the other hand, I slid his shorts down -- catching the lip of his boxers as I did removing them in the process.  Then I covered his handsome nudity with the layer of blankets.  John curled into a half-ball & shivered some.  "Cold?", I asked.

"Yeah", he weakly whispered.  I checked the door to my room & made sure it was locked.  Then I stripped into my birthday suit & climbed into bed with Johnny.   At the feel of my warm bod slipping in beside him, John turned over & wrapped his arms around me pulling me close to him.  It seemed uncharacteristic of him, but he was still under the influence of the booze I imagined.  I turned some facing him -- & now we were each on our sides.  His heartbeat was fast & I felt the unmistakable throb of his erection  at my naval.  Knowing he was turned on was a turn on and I was hard in less than 15 seconds.  I threw my right leg over his, & having a grip on them -- rolled his 190 lb football player physique on top on mine.  He moaned softly as his dick gave another hard pulse & then his body stiffened as his cock began to get rock hard -- fast.  The guy was so turned on he was gonna shoot less than a minute after cuddling up.  Just knowing that he was outta control that intensely was a major aphrodisiac as my gun loaded both barrels fast -- pulling my nuts up close to firing position.  Johnny let out series of little whimpers each timed in perfect sync with his dick as it rhythmically pumped out a load of thick cum -- leading my own nutt by 5 seconds or so.  We just laid there for a few minutes feeling the aftershocks & wondering in silence what the other guy was thinking.  I began to slowly massage his back, neck & upper glutes as he lay there on top of me.  He groaned some as I worked some sore spots. 

"Hey, bro ... am I normal - as a guy?", he quietly asked as I massaged him. "I mean, when you look at me, do I come across as a dude?"

"Yeah.  Totally.  Why would you even ask?", I quizzed.

"Well, I was beginning to wonder if guys saw me like a was less than a guy.  I mean, first Paully, & now you..."

I was totally floored. "You've done this with Paul?", I asked

"Well, not quite.  We were wrestling the other day & he got me pinned really good & then he ground crotches with me until we both shot.  He said it was a 'he-man competition' ... last one to shoot wins.   I was beginning to think that maybe there was something about me that reminded guys of chicks -- seeing that first Paul got off with me & now you ... And me both times with you guys.  Is there something phuck'n wrong with me?", John worried out loud.

"Dude...", I assured, "You're one of the least feminine guys I know.  The fact you're so masculine is what's awesome about you.  That's a form of beauty, man.  Most guys say they don't know when another guy is good look'n.  That's BS, bro.  Do you remember when my cousin Todd visited last summer?"

"Yeah, Todd is one kewl babe magnet.", John commented.  "When we went out with him, he always pulled in the chicks."

"Well, truth be told ... Todd isn't into chicks ... at all.", I answered.  John was quiet for a few seconds.

"You mean he's a fag?", John asked incredulously.  "No way!"

"He's not a fag.", I agreed. "He's a guy who's into guys ... but feels like we do about it.  The guy is all about respect & being a guy.  He explained it to me this way: When a guy takes it up the butt, he's a fag because he's using his arse as a man-khunt.  In reality, he's pretending to be a woman so the other guy can feel a tight hole -- but the reality is that he lacks the phuck'n proper equipment; -- so his butt  - stands in place of a khunt.  It's a total phuck'n head job because while an arse might be a hole -- it was not designed for sex and no amount of wishful phuck'n thinking changes that fact.".  John was silent.  I continued: "Guys who phuck guys like that are playing major mind games because they imagine that because they're "penetrating" someone, - that they're playing the 'masculine role'.  What they're actually doing is phucking another dude up the arse & they're nothing masculine about it.  It's unnatural, degrading & a fetish, -- built on a mutually accepted lie that because it's penetration, that it's somehow 'sex'.  Todd says that the buds he hangs with don't pretend that a bowl of shit is a bowl of soup."  You remember his friend, Rod?

"Yeah ... Rod was one awesome sh*t!  Man!  What a ride that guy has!  He some kinda mechanical genius to do all that with a car!", John commented.  I stayed quiet & gave him that look that said, "Yup...".  A look of astonishment came over John's face.  "You mean Rod & Todd!?  No phuck'n way dude!".  I lifted my eyebrows & nodded.  John laid there open-mouthed.  "So you mean there are lots of guys who are into guys - who don't do asses?", John asked.

"Bingo bro -- & they're a different kind of dude than the guys looking to give it or take it up the butt.  What they're into is what we just shared, -- totally equal, respectful & no head games.  I have no desire to be around a dude that I think is scoping my butt or wants me to stick my power tool in a hole full of shit. The reason I am with you like this is because I appreciate the fact that you're such a total DUDE, DUDE!  I'm not looking for some female thing in another guy.  I have no inclination to pretend you're a man-khunt because I'd never dis ya like that!", I assured him in a loud whisper. "Besides ... don't you feel more connected to me than you've ever felt before - now that you know I totally respect & luv ya?"

"Bro...", he spoke in a relived tone ... "I was so worried that there was something wrong with me!  Like, I felt the same way about you & Paully; -- That you were both good look'n dudes that I liked being around & for the longest time I just stayed at arm's length so no one would suspect I had all these feelings.  I never knew that there were guys who could be with guys & not give up being a real guy; - Like I always just assumed that if you were with another guy that meant somebody had to take it up the arse!  I didn't know that other guys were as disgusted with that as me, but still liked luv'n on other dudes!  Bro! You don't know how relieved I am!  I've gotta tell Paul when I get a chance!"  John hugged me tighter.

I returned the intensity of the hug & slid into a slow massage on him again.  "OK, - but be careful not to freak him out.  You might not want to tell him that you told me about you two.  It takes some time for some guys to know they can trust other dudes with their deepest feelings -- & you don't get deeper than when you cuddle a guy into shooting his wad."  John grinned in agreement, & within ten minutes, he was sleeping on top of me as I enjoyed the feel of his relaxed heft & the strong bond that we'd developed.


PS> Because our friendship wound so tightly from that day out, I was able to talk John down from the excessive party mindset that had been consuming him.  Love rocks!