Tiny tits and tiny clits

tiny tits and tiny clits

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pandy.nl/3xh6c
pandy.nl/h31mm
pandy.nl/cw21e
pandy.nl/1mry8
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names kelly hehe

Bump

who doesnt love a small tittied subbie

I present to u kellylee

Rebump

...

...

Ba-HUMP!

Love the little titties!

...

Looks like a dude

Dubs don't lie.

many pic of this girl if someone ask for them

she has BIG nipples on tiny boobs

Okay, if this thread doesn't 404 before I can find it, I'm going to post a story about tiny tits.

Just post them you fucking idiot.
Of course we want them

"This one time, I saw tits that were tiny. How tiny? Soooooo tiny. And I touched them and stuff and came here to tell you."

I dont know guys, I've been with a lot of women, and the shortest girl, also had the smallest (almost no) tits.
And the loosest hallway pussy I've ever been in.
I'll stick to my slightly chubbies. they have a better track record for not being super loose.

...

you will not get a lot of this world with that words son.

also: Taking Requests

Oh... soooooo, you've read it already then? gg

Is that Jessirabbit?!

pandy.nl/3xh6c
pandy.nl/h31mm
pandy.nl/cw21e
pandy.nl/1mry8

NOW!

Post more

...

Is this a new clickbait?

yes, how do you know her?

-=- Jason and the Youth Group -=-

1.
Blonde

I was standing in front of my new home, watching the sun drop toward the horizon when my phone rang. I checked the number and froze. I was expecting maybe one of my friends. Not Michelle. My throat was immediately filled with a growing lead balloon as I deliberated. Answer it? Don't answer it? Answer it? Don't answer it! Don't fucking answer that fucking-
"Hello," I said. My common sense and pride threw up their arms in futility and stormed off into the recesses of my mind.
"Hey Jason," that sweet voice said on the other end.
"Hey." I had no idea what else to say.
"What are you up to?" she asked tentatively.
"Um... I'm standing in front of my new house. Why?"
"I just wanted to say 'bye', and 'I'm sorry', and-"
I had always been a nice guy up to that point. But this was a long time coming. The dam of my emotions was cracked, eroded, and straining under the torrent of billions of gallons of anger and betrayal. I opened the flood gates... just a sliver.
"Yeah, that's pretty fucking easy to say over the fucking phone isn't it?!"
I couldn't believe that had come out of my mouth, directed at Michelle no less. The barely audible background noise told me we were still connected during her silence. Before I could say anything else, she resumed.
"Jason, I'm sorry. I just needed to talk to you." Her voice got really whiny and mumbly as she started to apologize through her tears. The guy she left me for had cheated on her, and she really needed someone to talk to right now (she couldn't reiterate that point enough), and she was so sorry she never said goodbye, but now she realized she had made a mistake and she was so confused and blah blah fucking blah!

Sup Forums of course. ;-)

I miss her old little tits. Sucks she got that boob job. :-(

"Hey, Michelle," I said calmly, almost lovingly, my voice softening just a bit.
"Yeah?" she said, hopefully. She sounded like a little girl about to get her dream Barbie House for Christmas.
What happens next? Try to exploit the situation? Maybe use her vulnerability to win her back? You know the play: Beg her to come back, sacrifice any shred of dignity or sense of self worth, forgive her for fucking someone else, make all kinds of plans for the future she will piss all over in six months or less, act like a beaten dog that keeps coming back for more.
The problem was, that was not me anymore. It might have been at one time. But not tonight. Instead, I flung the floodgates wide open.
"You couldn't face me when you decided you'd rather fuck some jock. You couldn't even tell me you were gonna break up with me. You just dropped me like a bad habit. Well GUESS WHAT, YOU FUCKING WHORE! I DON'T EVER WANT YOU TO CALL ME EVER AGAIN! I HOPE you're sad! I HOPE you're depressed! I HOPE YOU FUCKING REALIZE YOU WILL NEVER FUCKING HAVE WHAT WE HAD AGAIN AS LONG AS YOU LIVE! I HOPE YOU LIVE THE REST OF YOUR FUCKING LIFE REGRETTING WHAT YOU FUCKING DID TO ME! But don't go all emo on me and kill yourself, alright? OKAY? Don't fucking BOTHER 'CUZ YOU'RE ALREADY FUCKING DEAD TO ME!"
My phone seemed to wince as I crushed the "end call" button harder than necessary. I realized that, from the time I had started yelling, I was holding the phone in front of my face as it received my tirade.
I couldn't remember ever being so pissed off in my life. I was fuming, my lips pursed and nestled right up under my nose as if I had smelled a dead cat drop a maggot-infested shit from its rotting colon.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when my phone rang again. It was Michelle, naturally. Of all the retarded, ignorant, hard-headed bullshit, the stupid clingy, emotionally-disturbed bitch was calling me back! It was only with the most rock-hard and steady control that I was able to resist the urge to fling my phone into the street with full force. I was still too pissed to either ignore it or just turn the phone off, so I fumbled it over, forced the battery door off, and ripped the battery out.
"Wow, kid," declared a thick New York drawl wrapped around a mouthful of food.
I whipped my head around, eyes wide open, ready to strike. A very large man of Italian descent smiled at me, chewing a bite from the Philly cheese steak in his hand. This was Raymond. He owned the moving company that had just carried all of my dad's and my possessions from the Midwest to the East Coast.
"What!" I spat. It was more of a dare than a question.
Raymond just laughed at me, but not unkindly. "Kid, lemme tell ya, that is tha best tellin'-off I ever heard."
My mood was still sour, but I was no longer defensive. Raymond continued to nosh on his sub.
"She hot?" he asked around another bite.
"Yeah, she's hot," I lamented.
"Yeah, it's always tha hot ones, think they can have tha world handed to 'em."
I was already calming, and feeling a bit bemused at this exchange. So I recounted the sick, sad saga that had been me and Michelle.

In the beginning, I thought Michelle was the most gorgeous girl I would ever fuck. I was head-over-heels in love and lust with her. I really didn't know the difference between the two at the time. We were a few months shy of fifteen. She was right at the end of her lanky, awkward phase, a brace-faced virgin with barely any tits to speak of. My friends thought I was stupid and desperate to go out with her. They didn't have girlfriends, so maybe they were just jealous. I don't know.
Her eyes were what lured me in first. They were the most intense sky blue, her hair a cascading waterfall of gold silk. The planes of her face held a nascent beauty the other boys had somehow missed. Each day that passed, I was proven more and more right. In two years her bony legs and hips started shaping up, and that chest sprouted two gorgeous, firm, round breasts.

At fifteen, I was convinced we were going to spend the rest of our lives together, so why not have sex? We took each other's virginity in the woods behind my house. The whole ordeal was downright pitiful. I was so nervous. After I got the condom on, my dick went limp. We were both paranoid as hell, afraid we might get caught, and it really just sucked. I finally got enough of a semi-hardon to push myself into her and break her hymen. I didn't even come. She said she did, but I couldn't be sure. After it was over, we both leaned back against the tree and smoked Marlboros.
The next time we did it was in my bed, and it was a lot better. After that, we fucked like rabbits and it was loads better.
By the time we were sixteen, Michelle was smoking hot. Her tits were perky, round C cups. (I checked the tag on the back of her bra.) At the time, I thought her curves were perfect. She was a cheerleader by then and she worked out, so her abs were toned and flat. To behold her naked, you would think she was more like twenty. Most guys would say she had a perfect body. At the time, I really thought she did. I also thought I loved her. I guess I did. I also thought she loved me. And, well...

Not this ugly sag again! Half of Sup Forums and their aunt must have seen all her pictures by now. Just lay off!

In April, my dad got a new job. The good news was it would pay twice what he was making. The bad news? It was 1500 miles away. Bye bye friends. Bye bye school full of people I knew. Bye bye Michelle. At least Dad was cool enough to let me finish my junior year before we just pulled up roots and trekked halfway across the country. Ever since Mom died, he had been easier to live with in some ways. But it was tough. I told Michelle as soon as I found out. She cried. Then she got pissed. Then she cried again and held me tightly. Then we fucked.
Soon, she started spending less and less time with me. Of course, the sex was the first thing to go. I was a horny sixteen year-old after all and, as much as I "loved her with all my heart more than life itself blah blah blah", I was starting to get upset about being cut off. But for the first couple weeks, she was still spending time with me at school at least.
Then she started avoiding me altogether. Sometimes she'd duck into the bathroom, or sometimes she'd see me and just leave through another door before I could catch her. I'd call and text her and she'd never reply or call me back.
After about three days of this I got to school early and waited for her to drive up in her green Mustang. As she was just about to get out of her car, I opened her door for her. She looked scared. Yeah, I could do the creepy stalker thing when I wanted to.

yeah

"What's up, babe?" I asked.
"I'm gonna be late," she dodged.
"I don't think so," I said, blocking her. "We need to talk. What's goin' on?"
"I just need some space, okay?" she pleaded, seeming really rushed and looking at the ground.
"Okay," I said, my heart scrambling somewhere around my throat. "I mean, you could have just said-"
"Yeah, well I thought you could take a hint, okay?" she practically spat me. "I'm not ready to have this conversation right now. I need to go. I'm gonna be late."
Dumbstruck, I just stepped back as she got out of her car. She angrily grabbed her book bag and purse from the back seat then slammed the door, still pointedly not looking at me. She walked away, hair swishing behind her in time to her footsteps. Her Mustang honked with acknowledgment as she clicked the remote. She was no longer investigating the ground now that I was behind her. The first bell rang and I stood there, dumbstruck, as several other students streamed past me on the way to class.

Michelle never really broke up with me. It was some time in May, and I still had not said one word to her, nor she to me since the parking lot incident, not even on my 17th birthday.
I saw her chatting up Mitch by his locker one morning. Mitch wasn't a quarterback. I don't remember what position he played, but he was a jock. Nothing wrong with jocks, but I never thought I'd lose Michelle to one. I thought she was smarter than that.
She twirled her hair in her fingers and smiled at him with that really cute smile that had been reserved for me for almost two years. I had no idea what they were saying from across the hall. She was gazing into his big dumb ox eyes adoringly, like she wanted nothing more than to suck his dick right there.
As if on cue, they both turned and looked at me. He had the most contemptuous, "you are nothing but dog shit on the bottom of my shoe" look on his face. He smirked at me, comfortable with the knowledge that he was fucking my girlfriend now, and he could take me apart with one hand if I had a problem with that. I would have expected that kind of attitude from him, but not her.
The look on her face was the killer. When she glanced in my direction, I saw some hybrid of disgust, sadness, regret, and pity. Her smile had disappeared. She once again found something intriguing to look at on the floor.
Mitch turned back to her with the most tender look one of his kind can muster. He put his fingers under her chin, and lifted her face to his. They closed their eyes as he moved in. I looked away before their lips met.

what do you want to see?

More?

Their names were even perfect for each other. Mitch and Michelle. Oh, what a cute couple they were. They were both hot. Somehow they became extremely popular overnight. I should have known this would happen. First off, a two-year relationship between two kids from fourteen to sixteen is not normal. Sure it happens, and sometimes it comes to much better ends than we did. But that's not common.
When she was the ugly duckling, she appreciated my attention. I wasn't hugely popular, but I wasn't in with the dork set either. I was Jason Average. And when popular guys like Mitch were calling her a carpenter's dream, I was good to her. And I always thought she was beautiful, even then. But then she got all mainstream hot: big tits, nice ass, fit body. She was already a blue-eyed blonde, so she pretty much unlocked all the hot girl achievements by the time she was sixteen. Plus, thanks to me, she was sexually experienced without being a slut.
I wondered if, one morning, she just woke up and realized how hot she was, and saw that she could get a popular guy like Mitch. Giving it more thought, I came to the conclusion that she had simply been too chickenshit to break up with me. She couldn't say "we can't have a long distance relationship," or even, "I'm not into you anymore." When she found out I was leaving, she cut her losses. The easiest way to do it was to fuck somebody else.
Yeah it hurt. Yeah I *did* cry. And yes, I blasted Escape the Fate at full volume. "Love" was just a word to her. Boo hoo. I could have slashed my wrists and bled you a river. But life goes on.

...

More of her little tits, of course!

Also, all the video you have!!!!!

But only the "before" stuff. We don't want to see the big ugly fake tits now. >:-(

The last day of 11th grade, I said goodbye to my closest friends. Obviously, Michelle was not among them. I wasn't about to let her spoil what little bit of fun I could salvage this last day at home.
There was no going-away party or anything like that. My two best friends came over after school and we just kind of hung out and talked about random shit. My dad even let us have one beer each. Yeah, give the seventeen year-olds alcohol. What could possibly go wrong? But we weren't lightweights, so we didn't even get buzzed. Hell, these two guys and I had been on our share of drunken binges. But that's another story for another time.

Moving day arrived in mid-June. Dad and I flew across the country. My first plane ride. Whoopee. In defiance of will and logic, I still carried a torch for Michelle.
The next few days were a blur. The moving company had packed up all our important shit in a semi trailer and driven it roughly 1500 miles to our new place. They were an alright bunch of guys. The big slug named Raymond was their boss. I mean, he was like 350+ pounds. As he explained in his New York accent, "I really like ta eat." If he is not dead of a massive coronary in 5 years, it'll be a fucking miracle.
Since I knew nobody in this town, I mostly hung out with the movers when they were around. Dad was paying them to do this, but I still ended up helping carry a box or two here and there. Sometimes I would bum a cigarette off one of the guys when they took smoke breaks. My dad knew I smoked but we just didn't talk about it.
They moved our beds in with the first day's load, so we'd have somewhere to sleep that night. The next day, they moved everything else in. It was at the end of that day that I ripped a weeping Michelle a new orifice, followed by my conversation with Raymond.

...

...

After I recounted a mostly accurate version of events to Raymond, he simply said, "Bad deal, son!"
"Yeah, tell me about it," I agreed. "I mean, sure she was hot, but I don't think I could ever want her again. Not now. Not after this shit."
"Yeah, you're a lot smarter then most guys..." He had finished his sub and was now straw-slurping the last drops of his soda from between the ice cubes.
"Hmf," I commented through my nose. "Thanks. But I don't feel real smart right now." I was having the first twinges of doubt.
"No, hey," and he looked at me real seriously, "don't go losin' yer nerve now! You did exactly tha right thing chewin' her out! Bitches like her need to be kept in line!"
I laughed. I wondered if this guy beat his wife or girlfriend... if he even had one. But right now, I was appreciating the moral support.
He continued. "Yeah, women are more trouble than they're worth. Y'ever consider goin' gay?"
"Hell no!" I reflexively responded, my eyebrows knitting.
He just laughed again. "Don't get so testy, kid! I was just yankin' ya chain! Smoke?"
Raymond offered me a Camel, which I accepted. We leaned up against the side of my new house, smoking, and watching the stars come out as the last of the daylight died. In the darkening evening, I heard the light rumble-grind of skateboard wheels, then saw a long-haired kid skate by.
Later that evening, Raymond and his crew rolled away in their big rig as I contemplated the uncertain summer ahead.

her tits are fine now.... pic realted. But anyway let´s see the better ones

2.
Lake

July. Hot as balls. Sweaty, sticky, and boring. It was not a small town. We lived in a suburb of the nearest major metropolitan area. Our immediate neighbors were nice enough, but they were all older and seemed to have no children my age. I was never a very gregarious person, but I wasn't a loner either. It had been almost a month since I arrived, and I had no friends except those back home. We chatted online and talked on the phone some. But, as their summer unfolded before them, we started talking less.
I was enrolled at school already, but September was still a distant flicker on the horizon. Oh, and they were nice enough to send me a summer reading list. Great. I wasn't looking forward to my senior year in an alien environment that much, but at least I could meet other people my age there. Until then, it looked like it was just me and my dad.
I've always considered myself a non-confirmed, non-convicted, fence-riding, somewhat-hyphenated Christian, but I'd never really been a big church-goer. Still, since we were allegedly Presbyterians, my dad suggested I go to the local Presbyterian church. It would require waking up early Sunday morning (as in "before noon"), but in a rare flash of maturity (and my dad's subtle nagging), I realized my sleep schedule needed to be readjusted before school started.
Sunday came and I found myself actually shaving and putting on my suit. I was ready to get on my bike before my brain woke up fully and remembered that I had wheels. Dad had gotten a pretty good deal on a used Mazda pickup for me. We weren't broke, but we weren't rich yet either.

:-|

You and I have very different definitions of "fine". I like them small. Those aren't small. I know she wanted to become an escort or whatever, but if I were looking to spend money to fuck, I'd pass her by and find a girl with natural, small tits.
Just what I like.

I walked in a little early, and an old guy met me at the door. He smiled kindly and said, "Welcome," as he handed me a church bulletin. It had been awhile since I had been to a church service, so I was a little rusty. "Funny," I thought just then, "I guess dad figures I need this shit more than he does." Still, the old guy seemed nice enough. I hoped his attitude reflected that of the rest of the congregation.
I walked into the sanctuary and sat in a pew in the back. I knew I wouldn't be called on to answer any questions or anything like that, but I still wished to remain inconspicuous.
It wasn't a huge church, but it wasn't really small either. There were maybe fifty people there that morning. Mostly older people, with most of the men being dressed about like I was. There were about six or seven younger kids there, anywhere from eight to twelve years old. There was also a small group closer to my age. They immediately made me feel overdressed. They weren't wearing teeshirts and jeans or anything, but they weren't in suits either. The Latin-looking one even had long hair.

The service started at ten. It was the usual routine: the choir sings; mantras are recited (Doxology, Apostle's Creed, Lord's Prayer, Gloria Patri, all that); prayers for loved ones and the world in general; greeting time; collection plate passed around; finally, the sermon and benediction. It was not necessarily in that order. Fortunately the bulletin provided all the words in the right places so I wouldn't feel left out.
It was during the greeting time that I first met Mike, Alex, Marty, and Scott, though I didn't learn their names just then. We shook hands and said "hi". Right then, I decided they must be the core membership of the church's youth group. Some of the older folks I greeted seemed genuinely pleased that the church might have new blood. Following all the "good morning"s and "peace of Christ be with you"s, I went back to my seat in the back.
I don't remember what the sermon was about. I was struggling to stay awake at that point. After the service was over, and the preacher man said "God bless you, and keep you," and all that, we went to the fellowship hall and had refreshments. Since I hadn't eaten any breakfast and it was almost noon, I wasn't too picky. I had some ham biscuits and coffee. I passed on the Kool-Aid and cookies the younger set seemed to favor.
I stood next to the wall, again trying to remain inconspicuous, sipping my piping hot beverage and munching on a ham biscuit when the foursome shambled their way toward me. "Here comes the youth group," I thought, "trying to recruit me."

They were all roughly my age. The tall blonde one came up to me first.
"'Sup bra'?" he said.
"Not much," I replied.
"I'm Mike." He extended his hand.
"Jason," I said, shaking it quickly.
He introduced me to his crew. The dark-haired white guy was Marty, the black guy was Scott, and the Hispanic with long hair was Alex. Yay diversity.
"So how long you been goin' here?" Mike asked.
"Huh?" I was lost.
"This church." He motioned around him. "How long you been goin' to church here?"
"Oh," I replied, feeling like a complete idiot. "One day." I added for clarification, "Just moved here last month."
"Ah," he replied, nodding with understanding. "That's whassup."
"So I guess you're new here too. I mean, to the church."
"Yeah." He grinned. "Pastor Chuck wanted us to come, see if we liked it." He looked around the room. "I don't know though."
"Yeah, I hear ya. I don't know if I'll come back either." I glanced around. "Not really into all this."
Marty stepped up then. "You keep talkin' like that, you're gonna make baby Jesus cry." Then he smirked.
We all laughed. They certainly weren't the church's youth group, but that name was now stuck in my mind.

We all wound up in the parking lot soon after that. We stood around and smoked and talked about music, TV, movies, whatever. Finally, we were ready to leave.
"Where you goin'?" Mike asked as he crushed his cigarette into the pavement.
"Home," I replied.
"You know where the lake is?" he inquired.
"No. Shit, I didn't even know there was a lake."
"That's where we're headed. Wanna come?"
"Sure. I just need to head home first and grab my swim trunks."
"Where's your house?"
I told him.
"Shit," Alex piped up in a high, slightly scratchy voice, "That's a block away from my house."
They followed me to my house in Scott's Escalade. I went inside, shed my suit for a Polo shirt and jeans with my shorts on underneath, grabbed a beach towel, then headed back out.
"Have fun and don't drown," my dad admonished after I told him where I was going.
Soon I was behind the Youth Group, on the way to the lake.

mmm she had fine ones

We parked and got out of our trucks. I walked over to the Escalade.
"Nice ride," I said to Scott as he got out.
"Thanks," he replied.
Marty was out next. "How you think this nigger can afford such a nice whip?"
Scott's eyes got real big with mock anger. "Bitch, you better run!" he said with a grin.
"He sells crack to all the kids in the neighborhood!" Marty then ran around to the other side of the SUV in avoidance of a well-deserved ass-kicking.
"I only sell it to yo' mom!" Scott retorted. "But she pays me with blowjobs."
"Awwwww, them's fightin' words, BOY!"
"Then quit runnin' away and bring it, BITCH!"
I watched, half afraid that it would get serious as Marty and Scott started to wrestle.
Mike and Alex got out. Mike just shook his head. "Those two wanna move to Massachusetts together."
"Why's that?" I asked.
"So they can get married!" he said, making sure they could hear.
Scott and Marty ceased their would be brawl. Marty looked at Scott and said, "Hey bro, I declare an end to this race war, so we can kick the shit out of that faggot!"
Scott and Marty then changed course, assumed football tackle positions, and headed for Mike, who lowered his center of gravity in anticipation of a head-on collision. Big as he was, I figured he could handle them both.
Alex just leaned against the Escalade and blazed a cigarette, obviously amused by the whole scene. I assumed a position nearby and lit up as well.

Yes she did! These are some new pictures I didn't have! Thanks!

How about some video?

"So, you live on the same street as me, huh?" I asked.
"Yep," Alex replied.
The three guys were now all over each other on the ground.
"How long you live here?"
"All my life."
Amid the chaos of the impromptu brawl, Marty managed to point his head our way and declare, "Don't lie, Alex! You just got off the boat from Porta Rico yesterday!"
"It's *Puerto* Rico, you racist hick," Alex enunciated with rolling Rs and a grin.
Then, to me, "My parents are from there. But I was born here."
"Cool," I replied, taking another drag.
"You say you moved here last month, right?"
"Yeah."
"You have a girlfriend?"
That question struck me as odd.
"Not anymore," I replied.
"You bitched her out over the phone when you got here, right?"
"Shit," I said, realization dawning. "You heard that?"
"Tsch. Yeah. I was skatin' by your house when it was goin' on. You were all like, 'Bitch, I don't care if you die, 'cuz you're already dead to me' or some shit like that, right? I thought 'Only a girl can make someone go that fuckin' psycho.' 'Course, when I came back by later, you were all chill and shit."
My mind made the connection, and I remembered the long-haired kid on the skateboard.

"Oh yeah, okay. I remember seeing you now. I was talking to the mover about my girl when you rolled by. My ex-girl I mean." I laughed at the memory. "He asked if I was gonna go gay."
Alex laughed, then looked at me a little too intently. "What'd you say to that?"
Suddenly, I felt weird. Was Alex interested in my relationship status and/or my sexual orientation? If so, why?
I stared up into the sky, and exhaled a cloud of smoke. "No. I don't have a problem with gay people, but that's not the way I swing."
"You sure about that?!" Marty interjected as the wrestling match ran down.
"Positive. Don't get your hopes up," I replied with a smile. Marty laughed, still out of breath. "Yeah, he can handle my bullshit. I think he'll be okay here." At least I had Marty's approval now.
"It's Marty's mission to offend everyone possible. You don't get offended easily, do you?" Alex asked around a smokey breath.
"I don't get offended. Pissed off sometimes, but not offended."

> checks own dubs

We all walked down to the lake. Marty, Scott, Mike, and I all stripped down to our swim shorts. Alex stayed at the picnic table with our towels and clothes and whipped out a PSP, becoming immediately engrossed in it.
The rest of us sauntered into the water, trying to look way cooler than we were. Well, maybe Mike or Scott were actually as cool as they looked. It was already blatantly obvious that Marty was the clown of the group. Aside from being the new kid, I still didn't really know where I stood. But they seemed to accept me already, and I was really grateful and relieved, even if I didn't let on. It was good to finally make some new friends.
I didn't know how long I would be staying here. For all I knew, I would be off to college in another state in a year. Or maybe I'd be here for the rest of my life. I didn't know or care at this point. Right now, I was content to hang out with the Youth Group. They were doing a lot to help me keep my mind off Michelle.
"Hey Scott, nice breast stroke!" Marty yelled from his knee-deep spot.
"That's freestyle," Mike corrected him.
"I know. I just like to say 'breast stroke'. Heh heh heh. Breeeeast stroooooooke. I'd love to stroke a breast right about now."
Deadpan, Mike challenged, "Why don't you ask one of those girls?" as he pointed back to the beach. "Or you could just play with your man boobs."
Marty was not terribly fat, but he played it up all the same. He jumped up and down and cried, "How 'bout I do the Truffle Shuffle for ya? You gettin' hard yet?" He then licked his finger and began tracing circles around his hairy nipple, giving Mike a disgusting parody of a seductive look.
Mike just turned to me and deadpanned, "And he called *me* a faggot?"
I glanced toward shore, as I heard Alex laughing, apparently having seen and heard the ridiculous and lewd display.

Most of our time in the water was just the usual swimming and diving. Scott and Marty's mock racism and homophobia seemed to dissipate as time went on. It was probably for my benefit that it even happened in the first place.
Every now and again, I would glance up to the picnic table. Alex stayed there the whole time, sometimes playing the PSP, sometimes watching impassively with a cigarette in hand.
It was unlikely that anyone would have messed with our stuff either way, but Alex's presence helped insure our shirts, pants, wallets, and watches against theft. Eventually, those of us in the water decided to get back on dry land.

We dried off, put our clothes back on, and headed back to our trucks. Marty needed to get home, so the Youth Group began piling into the Escalade.
Mike turned to me as something occurred to him. "Hey Jason. Think you could take Alex home?"
Alex looked at Mike quizzically for a split second, then turned to me as realization hit and said, "Yeah, my house is kinda out of the way for Scott. And, you won't have to follow him out to Bum Fuck Egypt where Marty lives either," this said loudly enough for Marty to hear.
"Redneck and proud, baby!" I heard Marty exclaim from the passenger seat.
"Sure," I agreed. It made sense with Alex's house being so close to mine.
Mike and I exchanged cell numbers before we parted. Then we all said bye, and Alex rode with me.

...

3.
Puerto Rican

My passenger gave me occasional directions as I drove, but remained relatively quiet otherwise. The silence began to stretch out to near discomfort. I began to wonder why Alex didn't swim with us. Was it a phobia or even some sort of body shame? Maybe Alex just didn't feel like going in the water that day? But having lost my mother, I knew of tragedy, and my mind took me there. My thoughts were interrupted.
"Can I turn the radio on?" Alex asked.
"Sure," I replied. "What kind of music you like?"
"Hardcore, dubstep, hip-hop... anything but country."
At least we had similar taste in music.
My passenger's nimble fingers quickly found a "modern rock" station that was playing music almost as old as us. But neither of us were put off by it enough to change the station.
Alex added, "I also like talk radio."
"What, like Rush Limbaugh?" I asked incredulously.
"Yeah. I don't agree with him on, like, *everything*, but I think he's pretty smart. I like Glenn Beck better though."
"Really? That's surprising."
"Why?" Through my peripheral vision, I could discern a stare and a lopsided grin. "'Cuz I'm Puerto Rican? Or because I'm..."
Suddenly, the grin disappeared and the stare was pointed at the clouds.
"Because you're what?" I hazarded. For some reason, I felt a bit giddy after asking that question.
I heard a short exasperated laugh. "I don't even know anymore."
"O... kayyyyy... um..."
A little too quickly, one of those slender fingers pointed to an exit. "Get off here."
Alex's face betrayed no emotion. The soundtrack for the rest of the trip was Pearl Jam, Nirvana, Bush, and a precious few songs from more recent years.

The trip from the lake to Alex's place took less than thirty minutes. During that time, we started talking again. I turned the radio down as we shared our views on God, religion, skateboarding (which I knew little about), and our general outlooks on life. I found that we felt the same about a lot of things. So far, we seemed to get along pretty well.
I pulled up in front of the house and Alex made ready to open the door and get out before turning to me and saying, "You wanna hang out here for awhile?" I was about to say no, but I realized I had no plans for the rest of the afternoon. All I had to look forward to at home was TV, my PS2, the internet, and hanging out with my dad.
"Sure," I replied. I cut the motor, pulled the parking brake, and walked with Alex into the house.
Alex's parents invited me to stay for dinner. I called my dad to let him know that he would only have to order half as much pizza or Chinese that night.

On the way to Alex's room, we passed some pictures in the den. I glanced over and took in the details of one as quickly as I could. It was a beach scene. A woman I identified as Alex's mother stood smiling with two children in front of her. On the left was a boy of about twelve, shirtless and wearing blue and green swim trunks. I surmised that this boy was a younger Alex. I immediately recognized those deep brown eyes and lanky frame, even if his hair was shorter.
Beside him stood a girl who looked to be about nine or ten, in a pink one-piece swimsuit. Her shoulder-length hair was dark and wavy just as Alex's was now, and her face held those same engaging brown eyes. I determined that this must have been Alex's younger sister.
I almost stopped walking right there as I suddenly understood. Where was she now? I saw no evidence of a girl's presence in the house. Judging by Alex's age, she would be thirteen or fourteen by now. Probably very talkative, so I would have heard her... unless she was at a friend's house. But I dared not ask, as I now guessed the reason for Alex's aversion to the water. I felt a pang of sympathy for Alex, whose little sister I was now sure had drowned.

Soon I was in Alex's room. We both sat down on the bed. Another of those awkward silences ensued as Alex turned and looked at me expectantly. What seemed almost to be a smile started to play on those lips. And those deep, dark, soulful brown eyes... Why was I being stared at? Our first conversation suddenly arose unbidden into my mind. I quickly looked away, and my eyes focused on a Tony Hawk poster on the wall.
"So," I stammered, trying to cover my nervousness, "you like Tony Hawk?"
"Yeah, Tony's cool, but between him and Bam, Bam totally wins."
I looked back at Alex who was now gazing at the opposite wall, which sported a Bam Margera poster twice the size of Tony Hawk's. And then that penetrating gaze was directed at me once more with that slight shadow of a smile. Again, I got the distinct impression that I was being... admired? Sized up? Lusted after? I felt a strange tickle in my chest, one like I felt back when I first discovered that Michelle liked me. It was just becoming uncomfortable again when Alex jumped off the bed and sat down in front of the TV.
"Wanna play something?" The Playstation 2 was being pulled out.
If I wanted to play a PS2 game, I could have just gone home. And I was starting to get creeped out by the staring. But something held me in place. Maybe it was politeness, as I had accepted the dinner invitation. And then, suddenly, a completely foreign thought jammed itself in place:
"What if I'm gay? What if I like Alex like that, and what if he likes me?"

That thought scared me cold, not because it was implausible, but because right then, it seemed like a real possibility. After all, hadn't Michelle rewarded two years of love and loyalty with an abrupt betrayal, devoid of all logic and common sense? And weren't all girls just like her? I had heard countless stories from friends back home about girls they dated who always pulled idiotic illogical shit. Girl mad at you? Ask her what's wrong. Her response? "You should already know! And if you don't know, I'm not going to tell you!"
I closed my eyes and thought back to Raymond's declaration and subsequent question. "Women are more trouble than they're worth. Have you ever considered going gay?" And Alex asking me about it. "What'd you say to that?"
I had never felt this conflicted in my life. The hardest part was right then, when I realized I was attracted to Alex, at least in some small way. I looked back into those curious dark eyes, regarding me with more than just a question about which video game I wanted to play. I was now aware that my heart was impacting my ribcage with unprecedented ferocity. And then that slightly scratchy voice brought me back to reality.

"Earth to Jason," Alex laughed, "What you wanna play? I got Madden, NBA Street, Socom... Pretty much all the Tony Hawk games."
I just picked one at random: "NBA Street."
"Cool."
We sat next to each other on the bed again, and I played very poorly. Apparently Alex wasn't that good at it either and I began to wonder if it was due to the same kind of nervousness that I felt. I was distracted by the presence of this body next to me, this slightly effeminate, olive-skinned slip of a person. I was, for the first time in my life, seriously questioning my heterosexuality. It also didn't help that I could not know whether Alex even felt the same way. What if it was all just a huge misunderstanding on my part? But then I thought about the fact that Alex had just invited me in on the first day we met. Was that something you just did when you met someone... unless you were interested in them... in *that* way? Ugh, why couldn't I think straight?

> moar checkin

"Man, you suck at this!"
Alex's comment snapped me back yet again. I had been playing on autopilot, and I was losing big time. I paused the game and put the controller down.
"You okay?" Those brown eyes gazed at me again, this time with concern.
"I gotta know something." My heart was in my throat now. I could not believe what I was about to ask.
There was a pause. I gazed back into Alex's dark, gentle eyes.
"Are you gay?" I blurted out. I surprised myself and immediately realized it sounded a lot worse than I intended. My nervousness only increased.
Alex continued to stare at me for what seemed like hours before blinking even once.
"Um... hmmmmmmm... that's... wow, that's a hell of a question." This last was said with a half-hearted smile. "Not something I get asked every day."
"So..." I pressed, still staring back, "are you?" I immediately regretted my impatience.
Still, I was hoping for a quick and vehement denial, as a confirmation might open up a scary can of worms for me.
"Look, I don't know, okay?!" Alex's hands went up in the air, clearly a sign of frustration. "I mean, hey, I only ever been with girls before but ya know, I don't know right now! Okay? I don't know how I feel!"
And then, sheepishly, "I don't really know how I feel about *you* yet either, okay? I mean, we just met today, and... this is kinda new for me." Now it was out there. Alex was gay, or something like it. Bi maybe? Either way, the interest in me was apparent. And before I could process much else, Alex's arms were around my neck and over my shoulders.

1 more

I should have expected the kiss once our faces were so close, but I guess I was caught off guard. Alex's lips pressed against mine and I tensed for a second before finally yielding. Our lips remained together for a few seconds. I marveled at how soft those lips were on mine before I felt something stir in my pants.
At this new excitement, I suddenly thought of Michelle, her silky blonde hair, those blue eyes, those gorgeous breasts. And then I felt something else rise: revulsion. My mind and body refused to accept this. It was like all my alarms suddenly went off, screaming, "FAGGOT! QUEER! GAY GAY GAY GAY GAAAAAYYYYY!"
I pushed away, not forcefully, but enough to break our lip lock.
"I'm sorry," Alex mumbled, now looking dejectedly at the bedsheets.
"Look, Alex," I muttered, "I'm not ready for this. Not now. Not yet. Okay? Just... gimme some time."
Alex said nothing. I was thankful the thick black locks hid those eyes. I was afraid I would see tears.
I walked out of Alex's room quickly, making a beeline for the door. Alex's mom glanced at me from the kitchen as she carried a pan of something from the stove. "You not gonna stay for dinner?"
"Nope, sorry. Gotta go. Thanks anyway."
"Oh, okay. I hope everything's alright."
"Yeah, everything's fine. Thanks. Bye."
I was out the door and in my truck in a flash, driving the short distance to my house. I breezed in and was thankful my dad was consumed with TV. If he had asked how dinner was, I would have told him it left a bad taste in my mouth. Then again, the scary thing was, it really wasn't a bad taste. I couldn't deny I'd enjoyed it.
Soon I was in my own room. I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to sort out what was going on in my heart and mind.

Monday, I stayed in until the afternoon. I watched TV, never staying on one show more than a few minutes at a time. I jumped online and found that none of my friends were available. Then, a bright idea occurred to me: why not test my potential gayness?
It didn't take long to find a plethora of free gay porn. I saw pictures of large smug-looking muscular men, their cocks hanging out and standing up. Some were sucking off other men. Some were kissing. Some were licking each other's nipples. I watched the first few seconds of a video of one guy blowing another. It didn't take much of this before I closed the browser. All those penises and hairy chests did nothing for me at all. Downstairs, I was a limp noodle.
And yet, I still found myself in a quandary over Alex. Maybe it was the slight build. Maybe it was the long hair. Maybe it was the gentleness.
Could that be it? There was a certain softness with which Alex moved, a kind of beauty. I mean, this was just a Puerto Rican skater kid, built like a twig, and yet the fluid grace...
I needed to clear my head. Staying inside, looking at gay porn, and obsessing over Alex wasn't helping.

I called Mike.
"'Sup bra'?"
"Not much. What you up to?"
"Just workin' on my bike."
"Cool. What kind of bike is it?"
"It's a '95 Kawasaki Ninja ZX-7R. My brother gave it to me last month. I just got the engine back together today." There was no mistaking the pride in his voice. "Come on over and check it out, bra'!"
He gave me directions and I jumped in the truck. Dad wasn't home yet, so I didn't have to tell him where I was going.
As I drove past Alex's house, I saw the lanky Latin figure sitting on the front porch, tweaking the trucks on a black longboard with a wrench, oblivious to my passing by. I felt slightly guilty for driving by without saying anything. Then again, what would I say? I had to sort things out first.

4.
Truth

I arrived at Mike's house just as the sun was going down. I parked my pickup in the concrete driveway in front of the open garage doors. Inside the garage, a greasy and dirty Mike was fussing over the engine he had set on a work bench. The bike sat nearby, the empty hole in its frame patiently awaiting the engine's return. A small boombox blasted a thrashing mix of heavily distorted guitars, blast beats, growls, and barks.
Mike looked up and waved, his forehead marked on one side by a few dark, finger-shaped smudges. "Whassup?"
"Nothin'. Just thought I'd watch the master mechanic do his thing," I replied as I made my way into the garage.
"Yeah, right! This is only the second engine I've ever rebuilt. I got it right this time around." He laughed as he put down his socket wrench and turned off the boombox. "Come in and get somethin' to drink."

Mike's parents were at the airport picking up his cousin, so he said I was welcome to a beer. The fridge was stocked with plenty, in preparation for a family reunion. I figured I could use a little alcohol, so I cracked open a Rolling Rock and took a swig. Mike smeared degreasing goop over his hands in the sink. He peered back at me from over his shoulder.
"So, dude... What happened with you and Alex last night?" His eyes gave a piercing, knowing look.
"Nothin'," I lied.
Mike looked back to his hands as he rinsed them. I barely saw him shake his head. He grabbed a towel, and quickly and roughly dried his hands. He turned to face me and it was a staring contest. The finger smudges on his face were like war paint. I looked away first.
"I like you and everything. You seem like a nice guy but... Ya know, Alex is my best friend. And right now, my best friend doesn't wanna talk. So, why don't you fill me in?"
I felt like I'd just been ambushed. I was quickly growing weary of this confrontation.
"You want to know what happened? Okay, I'll tell you. I found out Alex is gay!"

Mike just laughed. I immediately regretted saying that. I was certain he wouldn't believe it.
"No shit! Tell me something I didn't know. I mean, did you just now figure this out?"
I was stunned. As many times as I had heard the word "faggot" yesterday, I would not have thought any of the Youth Group were actually gay.
"Yeah, well, maybe I have a hard time with that."
Mike looked at me incredulously. "So, you got a problem with gay people? You got a problem with Alex bein' gay? Cuz, if you do-"
"No! No, no," I said, holding my beer-free hand up, somewhat relieved. "I don't have a problem with that. It's just..."
I calculated. If Mike was okay with his best friend being gay, then he shouldn't have a problem with what I was feeling.
"I think... I think I might like Alex. I mean... like that."
Mike's expression changed to that of understanding. "Okay, I think I get it." Then, worry crept into his face. "You didn't, like, try anything, right? You know, force yourself-?"
"No! God no! Shit dude, Alex kissed *me*!"

Now Mike looked bewildered. "Seriously? Alex kissed you?"
"Yeah," I continued. "I mean, he'd been staring at me the whole night, so I wasn't sure-"
"Who was staring at you?"
"Alex... Anyway, he was staring at me, and... shit, I feel weird about the whole thing, okay? I didn't think I was gay, but after he kissed me-"
"After *who* kissed you?" Mike was becoming increasingly annoyed about something.
"Alex! Alex kissed me! I mean, first I wasn't sure if he was flirting with me, or what but-"
"Awww shee-it!" Mike buried his face in the palm of his hand and just shook his head. "You have got to be kidding me!"
I just stared at him, awaiting clarification.
He dragged his hand down his face and stared off into space for a few seconds. Then he smirked, looked down, and shook his head again.
"You're really not fuckin' with me, are ya?" He stared at me again, eyes searching.
"No. He really did kiss me. What's goin' on? What am I missing?"
Mike closed his eyes, shook his head, laughed again. Then he looked at me once more. "You said Alex kissed you. *He* kissed you. *He* was staring at you."
"Yeah! What?!" I was completely lost now.
Mike laughed again. Through a grin, he said, "You dumbass! Alex is a girl!"

Storm closing in, wife calling me to bed. The rest is available at dolst.deviantart.com if you want to read what happens next.

Nobody cares.

Thanks for the Jessirabbit pics. Good night everyone.

lol