Making Friends With The New Kid

When I was a kid, my family moved from a large East Coast city to the small Midwestern town where my mom and dad both grew up. They had been high school sweethearts, gotten married right out of college, and left for the “big city” to pursue their careers. By the time I came along, three of my four grandparents were already dead - my only surviving grandparent, my dad’s mom, was in failing health. So, rather than put her in a home, my parents decided to move back and let her live out the rest of her life with us. Fortunately, our family was able to make this transition because both of my parents had jobs that let them work off-site.

Being as young as I was, it wasn’t too difficult for me to adjust. It also helped that my grandma was a popular and longtime teacher at the town’s public elementary school ... this gave me an in with the locals, which allowed me to make friends quickly and easily. I should also mention that where I grew up isn’t what one usually thinks of when the terms “small town” and “Midwest” are used in the same sentence. It’s the county seat and the largest municipality; it’s also home to a large manufacturing plant and in the vicinity of several relatively well-known tourist attractions. All this has helped the town and its inhabitants stave off the kind of decay seen elsewhere in the state. I’m not trying to idealize it - the place certainly has issues. But overall, it’s a pretty wholesome slice of Americana and I consider myself fortunate to call it home.

I mention the manufacturing plant because it’s owned by a company that anyone reading this post will know. Though it’s one of the primary reasons the town has managed to stay afloat for the last 50 years, it’s also a source of social division. Most of the people who are actually from the town work in agriculture or in blue collar trades. By contrast, the people associated with the plant are usually engineers and management types that have been brought in from other places. Since there’s only one high school in town, the children of people who have lived here for generations mingle with kids who have just moved in. There wasn’t much love between the “townies” and the “company kids,” and that plays prominently in the story I’m about to tell.   

Although my family are technically “townies,” the fact that both of my parents are white collar professionals meant that we were considerably better-off than most others in that group. Throughout my elementary and middle school years, I had friends who were townies and company kids - my family’s unique position allowed me to fit in with both groups and, to be honest, I never really understood why people cared. By the time I reached high school, I was a pretty normal American teenager ... average height, thin, with a mop of curly, light brown hair. Adults universally regarded me as a “good kid.” I was well-liked at school but not in one of the popular cliques ... I was also an above-average but not stand-out student. The only sport I did was swimming, and I wasn’t half bad by small town standards. Even still, it was pretty obvious that I would never be good enough to swim at the college level. 

Overall, it was a pretty tranquil, if routine, existence. Few things of note ever really happened at school ... and I suspect that’s why I can still clearly remember the first time I saw Kyle on the first day of 10th grade. Kyle’s dad was an engineer at the plant, and they had just moved to town from a large city in a much warmer part of the country. He was already over 6 feet tall, lean but noticeably muscular. On that day, he walked the halls wearing a pastel polo shirt with a popped collar, plaid shorts, loafers, Ray-Bans, and a vintage Rolex. He was extremely tanned, and his jet-black hair was perfectly parted in a style reminiscent of the 1950s. To many people in our small-town school, he may as well have come from another planet. 

Aside from his flamboyant fashion sense, Kyle was quite a talented football player; at his previous school, he played as a second-string quarterback and wide receiver ... his parents were very invested in his football career, and I suspect that one of the reasons they moved here was the chance for him to have a larger role on the school football team.  However, while many of the school sports programs were happy to take whoever wanted to join, the football team was virtually the exclusive domain of townies. The old football coach (who was only slightly younger than my grandma) didn’t outright discriminate but was known to favor the children of people he had coached decades earlier. Nonetheless, Kyle’s skill was obviously too much for the coach to overlook and he was given a spot on the varsity squad.  

Although Kyle easily made the football team, this didn’t translate to acceptance among his teammates or the student body as a whole. The fact that he was both a company kid and a sophomore bred resentment among the juniors and seniors, most of whom had been playing together since kindergarten. While the specifics of high school drama now escape me, I recall that the other members of the football team started a whisper campaign against Kyle during the summer - by the time school started in late August, no one wanted to have anything to do with him. I remember seeing Kyle sit alone at lunch for the first couple days of school, thinking it odd that this athletic, good-looking kid had such trouble making friends. 

Kyle and I had one class together, and at the end of the first week of school we were assigned a collaborative project and told to partner off. When the announcement was made, I glanced over at Kyle and noticed that he didn’t even bother to get up from his desk. Instead, he threw his head back and audibly groaned at the prospect. Although I’ve become more outgoing as an adult, I was painfully shy throughout most of my childhood and adolescence. Nonetheless, I remembered what it was like to be the new kid and thought how difficult it must have been for Kyle ... so, in a very uncharacteristic move, I walked over to his desk, held out my hand, and said, “Hi, I’m Alkibiades, do you want to work with me?” 

Kyle, who was looking out the window as I approached, slowly turned his head, seemingly surprised that anyone was speaking to him. He met my eyes with his pale blue ones and studied me for a second. He smiled as he held out his own hand and responded, “Yes, pleased to meet you. My name is Kyle.”    

We worked on the project for the rest of the period and agreed to meet over the weekend. He ended up coming to my house that Saturday, staying through to dinnertime. We continued to hang out even after our project was completed and I eventually introduced Kyle to my group of friends. We bonded over the things that teenage boys enjoy: video games, junk food, talking about girls, the usual. Despite our schedules being full with football and swim practice, we would often get together in the evenings and on weekends. By the end of September, Kyle was one of the guys, and I think he had begun to genuinely enjoy living here.

The relevant portion of my story begins on a Friday in early October – the night of our school’s homecoming football game. I had never been interested in football prior to meeting Kyle but decided to start attending home games to show some solidarity with my new friend. Although our football team was mediocre, Kyle was a talented wide receiver and could usually pull off clutch plays on the rare occasions when he was given the ball. For our homecoming game, we squared off against our hated rivals from the next town. Spirits were running high, but the starting senior quarterback went out with an ankle injury halfway through the first quarter. The second string quarterback finished out the rest of the first half, but his performance was less than inspiring. For those who don’t know, homecoming games are usually played against a team you’re favored to beat … but by the time the first half ended, our opponents held both the momentum and a slight lead.

Needless to say, the hometown crowd wasn’t enthused. It was bad enough to be losing our homecoming game, but this was made infinitely worse by the fact that we were losing to our mortal enemies. If they ended up winning, everyone from our town would have to endure their taunts for a whole year. However, when our team came back out onto the field, the announcer indicated that there had been a change to the roster: Kyle was going to go in as quarterback! This was a very gutsy move by the coach since Kyle had never played in this role, at least not during the time he had been at our school. I guess the coach thought that things couldn’t get any worse and that he had nothing to lose. Almost from the first play, it was like an entirely different team had taken field. Kyle managed to rally his teammates and lead our school to victory by a lopsided margin in the second half. Once the other team had gone back to their locker room, our players hoisted Kyle up on their shoulders and turned him to face the hometown bleachers – in a moment of pure jubilation, he took off his helmet and opened his arms, as if to embrace everyone in the stadium. At this, the entire crowd stood and roared its approval. That was almost 20 years ago, but I still remember it clear as day. Even now, I’ve never seen anyone look happier than Kyle did right at that moment.

Looking back, the massive amount of adulation Kyle received during and after the homecoming game obviously went to his head. The homecoming dance took place the next night, and Kyle was originally going to go stag with me and some of our sophomore friends. Since none of us had our licenses, the plan was to meet at my house and have my older brother (who was home from college that weekend) drive us to the dance. However, Kyle texted me early on Saturday morning to say that he had gotten a date with a senior girl and would meet us all at the school that evening.

At the dance, it was readily apparent that Kyle’s demeanor had been completely transformed. Whereas before he had been reluctant to approach other members of the football team outside of practice, he was now chatting and joking with them like they had been best friends for years. I should also mention that the whispering campaign against Kyle had resulted in a profound lack of female attention during his first two months at school. Now, when Kyle deigned to come over and talk to his sophomore friends, he showed us the condom he had bought and bragged that tonight was going to be “the night.” All of us virgins were of course impressed and excited for Kyle … nonetheless, I couldn’t help but be a tad bitter about his newfound popularity. After all, we were his friends before he became the town hero – and would have continued to be even if he had blown it at the homecoming game.

When the dance was over, all of us walked out of the auditorium and into the parking lot. Kyle went to his date’s car while the rest of us found my brother in my family’s SUV. As we were leaving the parking lot, my brother drove by Kyle and his date, who were having a very heated argument outside her car. Curious as to what was going on, I asked my brother to decelerate and roll down the windows so we could hear.

“You choose to tell me this now?!” Kyle yelled incredulously.

His date, a blonde senior girl in a tight-fitting blue dress, tried her best to look convincing. “I can’t help it,” she said. “My mom wants me to come home right after the dance.”

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” Kyle responded. “I know you’re ditching me to go to the senior party. Did you even want to come with me tonight or did someone put you up to this?”

The girl sighed. “No one put me up to this … but you’re a sophomore and this party isn’t for underclassmen.”

Kyle threw up his hands. “Well, that’s just great! How the hell am I supposed to get home now?”

His date had the decency to look sympathetic. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” She then got in her car, turned the key in the ignition, and drove off.

At this point, my brother, the other guys in the car, and I were about to wet our pants from laughing so hard. Even though Kyle had been ignoring his friends and acting like a pompous jerk the whole night, I felt sorry for him standing there alone. My brother seemed to read my thoughts and honked the horn a couple times. When Kyle looked over, I called out the open window and asked if he needed a lift. Although he gratefully accepted, he sat in the back seat by himself looking dejected the whole ride back. We dropped off our other friends one by one at their respective homes along the way to my house until it was only my brother, Kyle, and me in the car. Because they lived far on the other side of town, Kyle called his parents to ask if he could spend the night at my house – they agreed, preferring not to drive the winding country roads in the dark. My parents were long asleep by the time we got home, so my brother told us to shower in the basement bathroom and sleep on the reclining couch in the downstairs rec room. He got Kyle some old clothes and a towel before heading upstairs to bed himself.

After we had showered and changed, we sat on the couch flipping channels on the big-screen. Though we were both covered by blankets, I couldn’t help but notice that Kyle was absentmindedly fondling himself as we watched TV. While I wouldn’t have acknowledged it at the time, I have some pretty strong bi-curious tendencies. In the interest of full disclosure, I’ve never experienced any desire to have sex with another man. For that reason, I hesitate to call myself outright bisexual … even still, there are some men I encounter about whom I develop an extreme sexual interest – and Kyle was certainly one of them. About a year before these events took place, I had begun jerking off with several of my friends from the swim team (those are stories for another time). So, as I sat there with Kyle in my basement, I wondered if that would be an activity he too would enjoy.

Adopting a casual, joking tone I said, “Hey, stop that … it’ll make you blind you know.”

Kyle blushed and sheepishly flashed a smile. “Sorry man,” he replied. “It’s just that I can’t help it. I really thought that tonight was going to be the night.”

“I know,” I told him. “It looks like you’ll just have to find another time, another place, and another girl to pop your cherry.”

“It’s probably for the best,” Kyle conceded. “Still, getting laid is all I’ve been thinking about all day. I have a MAJOR case of blue balls.”

Sensing that I could steer the direction of this conversation, I replied, “Well, if you wanted to jack off, you could at least have had the courtesy to do it in the shower.”

Kyle laughed outright at this comment. “Oh man,” he said. “Believe me, I thought about it … but then again, doesn’t it just seem rude to nut in someone else’s shower?”     

Excellent, I thought to myself – that means Kyle hasn’t blown a load despite being horny as hell all night. Choosing not to overplay my hand and weird him out, I suggested we watch a movie, to which he agreed. Now, I have to tell you that this was the era before every home had a streaming service and every kid had their own computer. Since we couldn’t livestream everything, my older brother burned a bunch of movies onto DVDs and put them in a binder we kept in our basement. This binder contained copies of legitimate movies as well as various porn films; so that our parents didn’t get suspicious, the porn DVDs were labeled as music CDs (they were all blank with handwritten titles). Knowing this, I chose one and dropped it into the DVD player. As soon as I hit the “Play” button, Kyle and I were greeted by the image of some Russian MILF being pounded by two well-endowed teenage guys. Instantly, Kyle was mesmerized.

“Woah, dude,” he exclaimed after he regained his composure. “I thought you said this was an old James Bond movie?”

“That’s what was written on the DVD,” I lied. “I guess my brother just mislabeled it so my parents wouldn’t find his porn. I’ll take it out.” With that, I moved to get up from the couch.

“No,” Kyle said quickly. “Just leave it … this bitch is pretty hot.”

I then settled back down onto the couch, slowly stroking myself underneath the blanket while Kyle did the same a few feet away. After a few minutes, I turned to Kyle and said, “Are you doing alright over there?”

“Yeah man,” he responded. “I’m doing great – but I could really go for some lube.”

Hardly believing my luck, I reached underneath my side of the couch and pulled out the bottle of lotion I kept especially for jerking off. I then handed the bottle to Kyle, along with a few Kleenex tissues from the box on the shelf behind me. If I was shocked by Kyle’s request for lube, I was absolutely astounded by what he did next. After squirting some lotion into his hand, Kyle turned to me and said, “I probably shouldn’t give these shorts back covered in lotion ... then your brother with know exactly what I was doing in them.”

As soon as he said this, Kyle threw his blanket off. Without a second thought, he pushed the gym shorts he was wearing down to his knees and pulled his shirt up past his navel, exposing his flat, hard abs. Although my eyes were initially draw to his stomach, I soon settled them on his erect penis. I immediately noticed that it was similar to mine: a little over six inches, thick, circumcised, with a large purple head that was very prominent against the pale skin of his inner thigh. I also noticed that he was completely hairless – shaved bald like a porn star. I must have been staring open-mouthed for around ten seconds. This was obviously not the reaction Kyle had anticipated … his smile faltered and he suddenly became defensive.

“What?” he asked.

“Ummm … you’re shaved.” It was all I could think to say.

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “I thought I was going to lose my virginity tonight.”

“Makes sense,” I said blandly. We sat in silence for another couple of seconds until Kyle gave me an expectant look. “What?” I said.

“Well,” responded Kyle, “am I going to be the only guy with his dick out?”

Needing no further invitation, I immediately threw off my own blanket. I then pushed my pajama bottoms down to my knees and pulled my shirt up, exposing my equally hard dick. Like I said before, my penis was very similar to Kyle’s: about six inches, cut, shaved, and topped with a swollen mushroom head. Just like I had done a minute before, Kyle let his eyes roam over my body.

“Huh,” he said. “You’re shaved too.”

“I’m on the swim team,” I motioned to my hairless groin. “We all do it.”

Kyle nodded and said, “Nice package, dude.” He then turned his attention back to the Russian threesome on the TV.

Sensing that the moment had passed, I too turned back to the television. Although my attention remained focused mostly on the porno, I would steal glances over at Kyle as he pumped his dick in slow, steady strokes. As it turned out, my glances were not as furtive as I thought – I accidentally made eye contact with Kyle several times before I resolved to fix my gaze firmly on the TV. However, once I decided to no longer look at my friend, I began to get the uncomfortable feeling that I was being watched. I slowly turned my head back in Kyle’s direction and found him staring intently at my hand as it slid up and down my own stiff cock. Knowing he had been caught in the act, Kyle blushed as I said, “You like watching other guys get off?”

He laughed, “Come on, Alkibiades. How do you expect me to concentrate on the porn there,” he said as he motioned toward the TV, “when a real live person is putting on a show two feet away from me?”

Now it was my turn to laugh, “Thanks, dude … you’re pretty hot too.”

After this, we lost any pretense of watching the porno. Instead, we looked at one another as we slowly edged to orgasm. I was the first to blow my load. Once I passed the point of no return, I grunted just loudly enough for Kyle to hear, “Holy shit, I’m gonna cum.”

Kyle stopped stroking and said, “Let her rip, dude.”

With Kyle’s encouragement, I began to stroke faster, moaning loudly as three spurts shot from my dick, filling the indentation around my bellybutton with warm jizz. I continued pumping until the last drop of cum was squeezed from my now flaccid penis. Satisfied and covered in my own spunk, I sank deeply into the couch – allowing a self-contented sigh to escape my mouth as I settled into the cushions. As I reached my post-orgasmic state of Nirvana, the peace was disturbed by a quiet snort. I looked over and again became aware of Kyle’s presence … he was grinning from ear to ear, clearly trying to suppress a chuckle. Annoyed that I had shared my most intimate moment with him and his response was to laugh, I said rather harshly, “What the fuck do you think is so goddamn funny?”

At this point, Kyle lost all control and burst into a good-natured laugh. “Sorry, Alkibiades,” he said. “It’s not that I think you cumming is funny … no way, man … that was one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen! But when you blew your load, you groaned like that eurotrash whore on the TV.”

My fears allayed, I allowed myself to chuckle as well. “Yeah, you’re right,” I conceded. “I promise I usually don’t do that.”

“No worries, man,” Kyle responded. “It’s not like I’m going to tell anyone.” Then he said, “I guess it’s my turn to put on a show.”

“Go for it, Kyle,” I said.

At that moment, Kyle began to pump faster with his right hand while he massaged his balls with his left. All of a sudden, he bit his lower lip and squeezed his eyes shut. Now I knew he was close – a few seconds later he gasped, “Ugh … fuck me!” as rope after rope of cum landed all over his chest and stomach. He continued pumping for about thirty seconds until his dick went soft. Then, like me, he heaved a tremendous sigh and sank back into the couch. We both sat there in silence for a minute or two, basking in the afterglow as the musky scent of cum filled the small basement room. Still staring into space, Kyle said, “Hey Alkibiades.”

“Yeah, Kyle?” I responded.

“I’m really glad we’re friends,” he told me.

“Me too.”

We eventually cleaned up and went to sleep – we didn’t talk about what happened, either the next morning or ever gain. It also goes without saying that this incident never repeated itself. Although Kyle eventually joined the popular clique, we remained good friends throughout high school. After graduation, we went to different colleges and moved to different cities. We still keep in touch on social media, and I usually see him at Thanksgiving and Christmas when we both make the trek back home to visit our parents for the holidays. Nonetheless, I still consider him one of my closest friends and fondly remember the night of our sophomore homecoming dance.