An English Teen, Circumcised in the USA - 20. The Unforeseen

An English Teen, Circumcised in the USA

by Riley Jericho

The Unforeseen

Returning to Toby’s bedroom, Simon set his clothing into a neat pile next to his backpack and used the towel to continue to scrub his hair dry. Toby was standing against the wall, working chalk into his mural. Simon smirked—the green around Toby's backside matched quite well with the grass of the huge picture. With the way the light cast against the hue of his friend’s skin, it almost looked like he was part of it himself.

"You took long enough!" Toby turned briefly to scrutinize him before returning to his wall. "Did I hear Mom?"

"She wanted the washing basket."

Feeling a little self-conscious in his new sleepwear, Simon pulled the towel and started to rub his hair dry. It felt odd to mention the boxers, so he said nothing and came to stand next to Toby to look over the growing masterpiece. "It's really coming on. I saw that you put the food lift in."

"You spotted that?" Toby said, studying the section. He flicked at what he must have thought was a blemish with the tip of his finger. “It’s still in chalk—I’m not quite happy with it, yet.”

He went back to working the chalks in another previously unmarked area. This was how Toby worked it, Simon knew, developing something in chalk before finally painting it in, more permanently.

"Does that make you 'Stop', then?" Unexpectedly, Toby’s eyes flicked to what was comfortably covering Simon's backside. It came with a teasing smirk at the new-look sleepwear.

"What?" Simon frowned, and then he got it. He looked down trying to give the impression he'd only just noticed his state of dress. "Oh…green for go, red for stop, you mean?"

Toby burst out laughing. "If you're hoping to get your license, you'd better get that one figured!"

"Asshole!"

Simon added, "You're right, though, they're not bad." It felt a little awkward, so he changed the subject to cover. "So, what are you working on now?”

Toby smirked knowingly as he roughed in some more chalk. It began to take shape. “What was one of the worst thing we ever did to a dog?”

“We?” Simon giggled, cringing at the memory. “That was you, you lunatic!”

The image of the fat lady and the poodle began to come to life on the wall and he started laughing. “Do you think she ever got it clean?” The face of the rather confused poodle that lived not far away, took shape. That day they had spray-painted its legs pink must have left the poor beast awfully traumatised!

As they enjoyed the memory, Toby flicked yet another glance at the red boxers. “You got your fat ass into them, then?” He grinned and went back to the dog.

Simon’s tone was derisive as he shot back, “To be honest, they’re a bit loose. I think you stretched them!”

"In your dreams! Actually, they're new. I've never worn them. Keep them if you want.”

Toby put down the chalk and dusted off his hands. "They look okay on you, and they have to be better than..." he pulled a face as both their eyes dropped to his old white ones, still lying on the mattress, "...those things!"

"Maybe," Simon allowed. He looked down at what he was wearing again, realizing how much he enjoyed having them on. At the same time, simply being around Toby brought color to his life. Standing together, it felt like the two of them fitted well together—Toby in green, him in red.

If only it were that easy!

Toby seemed to have had enough with the wall and lay he down on his bed, pulling over the sheets. He smirked. "Well, I don't know about you, but I find they keep everything in place!" It was completely shameless and Simon had to laugh.

"They're alright, I guess," he admitted. It wasn't something he preferred to dwell on. Then again, Toby didn't seem to mind this kind of direct talk, so maybe...

He settled on his own bed, shuffled under the summer duvet, and tentatively gathered his courage. “I was going to ask you something earlier.”

Toby leaned over the edge. “And…?”

“Well...you're circumcised, right?”

In the middle of plumping up his pillow, Toby froze, and then drilled him with piercing eyes. “Excuse me?”

Simon squirmed. It all began to feel like a REALLY bad idea. "I shouldn’t have asked,” he muttered. “Sorry. It’s not your fault…”

“What’s not my fault?” Toby demanded. “And why do you need to ask? I mean, you know I am, right?”

Simon fidgeted under the sharp gaze that wouldn't release him. Toby took a moment to sort out his pillows before settling in to consider him. “We all are—it's just you that isn't.”

Simon nodded. ‘We’ did include the whole class—that he’d figured out some time ago. Stilt, it was a start, albeit a shaky one.

Toby pressed in. “So what? What are you trying to say—that you want to be?”

“Not really.” Simon shook his head. That was something he was becoming increasingly sure of.

“I don’t get it. So why—”

Simon interrupted him, needing to get it out before he lost his bottle. “I’ve…well I’ve got this medical thing, which means I probably need it done.”

“A medical thing? What medical thing?” Toby looked confused. “Okay, you’d better start at the beginning. I’m lost already.”

Simon tried to organise his thoughts. “Like I said. I’ve got this medical condition. It's called phimosis. Luke has the same as me—he’s just had an operation."

For the first time, Toby seemed genuinely astounded. "Really?"

"Yep, just recently—he had to be circumcised to fix it."

"HOLY SHIT!" Toby's mouth dropped open. It was way too loud for Simon’s liking.

"You're telling me Luke just got skinned?" Toby seemed unwilling to let it go, and Simon rather regretted blabbing.

"You can't let on you know!”

Toby shrugged. "Whatever..." He frowned again, propping his chin in his arms as he got comfortable.

“So—to get this right—what you're saying is that, whatever it is, you think you have this same thing?”

Glum, Simon nodded. For the next few minutes, he explained to Toby the problem he was facing. For his part, Toby seemed to be willing to listen.

"I know my foreskin doesn’t come back like it should," he ended up, "but I’m just not sure. What would you do?"

“You’d better show me," Toby said, finally.

"Show you?" Simon’s eyes flicked to where the red boxers were covered by a sheet. "You want to see my dick?" That was exactly what his mum had asked. That had not gone well.

"Well, you asked me what I thought," Toby replied, reasonably enough. "How am I gonna know, unless I see?"

"What...you mean now?" Uncomfortable again, Simon eyed the door nervously. What if Grace made a sudden entrance?

Toby burst out laughing, though it wasn't nasty. “Of course I mean now! It’s just a dick for God’s sake. JEEZ!” He rolled back away from the edge, laughing, leaving Simon staring up into an empty space.

Simon knew he was being as cagey as Luke. On the other hand, Toby was right, it was no big deal. At least it shouldn't be as he tried to convince himself there was no difference between this and the hundreds of times he and Toby had stood together under the showerheads or in the locker rooms, chatting about the stuff of life.

He came to a decision. "No, it's okay. I don't mind." He tried to keep his tone nonchalant and flipped back the sheet.

Toby rolled back over and leaned comfortably over the edge of his bed as Simon eased the closely fitting boxers off his backside. He flipped out his dick.

"This is what it does." To show what he'd been trying to explain, he pulled down on the foreskin. It was completely soft, so it was more fiddly to do than when stiff, but he peeled himself down.

Toby leaned in for a closer look as he kept retracting until the skin got jammed at the end, as Simon now knew it did. The darker red of his trapped head glared as, unsuccessfully, it tried to escape the restriction. The strident color matched his borrowed boxers.

“Wow!” Toby sounded surprised. “Does it hurt when you do that?”

Simon shook his head. "Not really—not unless you do it really hard." For a few more moments, he held it there pointing up out of his light curly bush as he put himself on display, then let it go.

“It’s not right though, is it?”

Simon pulled a face as he slipped his dick back inside the boxers and covered up. Toby was right, but that was also such a complicated question. Lots of things weren’t right, and not just his dick. Life just wasn’t quite right—like a book that had a few pages missing, or a meal cooked without enough salt. The colorful boxers reminded him that he needed more.

There was one good thing at least—Toby wasn’t taking the piss out of him for bringing it up. In that respect, Luke had been right. It was a surprisingly intimate moment, and one in which Toby seemed genuinely concerned as they considered what it all meant.

"So what do you think?" Simon was glad he'd had the guts to ask his friend now, and glanced upwards, waiting to see if Toby had any bright ideas.

Toby pursed his lips. “Would you have to go into hospital?”

“For an operation, you mean? No. Luke said it was like being at the dentist. They use some special device that stays on for a week.” He decided not to mention that Luke was still wearing his.

“Fucking hell! Some dentist!” Toby smirked. “Still, at least you’d be the same as everyone else, at last.”

“That’s what Luke said, but it’s not like that where we come from.”

“England?”

Simon nodded.

"But I bet it's not normally tight like that in England, either!"

Simon pursed his lips. He knew what Toby meant—and he had a point.

Toby rolled back into the center of his bed. The consultation seemed to be finished, though Simon didn't feel anywhere nearer to either Toby or to a good answer to his problem. He adjusted the summer duvet that the Skerrits really only kept for him for when he stayed over, and got comfortable as they continued to talk.

“If it was me…" Toby voice drifted down f from the bed above him, "I think I’d have to get it done.”

"Maybe."

“So when do you have to decide?”

“Soon. I’ll have to go for an appointment for them to look at it.”

They continued to chat until, a few minutes later, Toby’s mom came to the door to put the lights out. She knocked, and Simon made sure he was well under the duvet before she put her head in.

“Come on Gizmo!” She called and waited patiently.

“I don’t think he’s in here, Mom.”

Simon smothered a grin at the blatant attempt to put her off, knowing that Grace would never fall for it.

“Toby, dear, you and I both know he is.” She bent down to look. “He’s probably hiding under your bed.” In her hand she had a spoon, and with it she tapped the doorframe, calling sweetly. “Gizmo…”

Right beside Simon, as if by magic, Gizmo poked his pert little nose out from under the bed. Bright eyes followed, hopefully inquisitive. Leaping lithely across him, Gizmo scuttled to the door where, much to his consternation, he was unceremoniously scooped up. The door closed and they could hear the poor thing being dumped out onto the back porch.

At the sound of a rather pitiful whine, Simon chuckled. “Does he always fall for that?”

Reaching across, Toby killed the bedside light. “You bet. Every time!”

“Good night, boys!”

“Night, Mom!” They heard her bedroom door close.

The room was peaceful and Simon felt relaxed. Having been able to tell Toby about his phimosis problem was an unexpected weight off his shoulders. It felt good. Toby had forgotten to close his blinds and, now the clouds had cleared. Beams seeped through the slats and painted the room with soft moonlight. They added to the light from the back porch that Grace had forgotten to put out.

“You know that Gizmo was watching you flashing your dick,” Toby murmured, breaking into a giggle now his mum had gone. “He’s probably like, totally scarred for life, now!”

Rudely, Simon stuck up a finger above the side of the bed.

Sniggering, Toby reached across and flicked it, but he wasn’t finished and added, “It’s a good job he’s a boy, or you might be in trouble!”

Simon grinned and, from down on the extra mattress, he let go a terrible mewling noise of a distraught pussy. They both started laughing again.

As they settled in the semi-darkness, Simon smiled. It had been such a great evening; the food, watching the storm, the honest talk with Toby. He yawned, sleepy now, though it was warm in the room. As he waited for sleep to come, he pushed down the duvet to catch the downdraft from the spinning ceiling fan. He wondered what they would do tomorrow and whether he might be able to convince his mum to let him stay over at the Skerrits on Saturday night, as well.

A hand was draped over the edge just above him, hanging down a little to where he was resting. Sleepily, he studied the still-chalky finger more closely. Toby bit his nails—a terrible habit—but otherwise it was just an ordinary finger.

Then, without any preplanning, reached up with his index finger and, ET-like, touched the end of Toby’s. It was the smallest possible contact, just a graze, and Simon wasn’t even sure why he’d done it—it just seemed like a good idea at the time.

Really it was quite funny, he mused. He smiled to himself, any moment expecting some little quip or joke from Toby. It would come—and probably be something about phoning home. And then he would deliver Toby a stinging flick, he decided. After that, he'd get up and close the blinds properly so that the light wouldn’t disturb them and they could get off to sleep.

He waited for the quip, but it looked like Toby didn't have the energy for it. He was about to get up anyway and go deal with the window blinds, when Toby's finger moved.

Bemused he watched the simple touch turned into a light gliding across the tips of their joined digits. As Simon studied the movement, it became a light swirling around his nail. If he didn’t know better, he would have almost have described it as sensual. Frowning, he still waited for a punch line that didn’t come, and at that point, nothing seemed to add up.

He began to feel disturbed; guilty, even, as if it were his fault that he was thinking the wrong things. And uncomfortable, because he knew his body was doing the wrong things, too, and he was already stirring inside Toby’s borrowed briefs.

What the hell would Toby think if he knew? At any time, his friend could easily look down there, see the beginnings of his arousal, and be shocked—or worse. Even then, Simon couldn’t quite compute that this was more than just a one-sided exchange.

He knew he had to think of something to get himself off the hook, something that would allow it to be brushed off as an accidental contact—a joke, a bit of fun—but his voice wouldn’t engage. Either way, he couldn't (or didn't want to, he wasn't sure) release the connection or stop what was happening in his groin.

There was a break in Toby's breathing. With it came a subtle shift of intent as they continued to lightly brush the ends of their fingers together. Still with only one finger, Toby slipped his digit further down to his middle joint and swirled around it; going deeper and deeper. Always deeper. The touch went way past the point of mere accident. It was slow and, to Simon, becoming provocatively sexual. In the gloom, his eyes widened as the penny began to drop.

Distracted by the growing realization, he couldn't decide now whether he wanted it to stop or needed it to push even deeper. There were only two parts of him that stirred. One was his finger as it continued to explore and be explored. The other was his dick that had responded to an unspoken craving. He glanced down to where the muscles there had contracted.

He was already totally hard. Unavoidably, he lifted slightly, pressing out against the constricting material that seemed to glow an eerie red in the half-light. It was hard to smother a groan.

He was nervous now, gradually understanding it for what it was, and it stunned him as his fingers began to tremble. If he could have, he would have let go, but that swirling touch became a caress that deepened as their fingers came together and gradually entwined their two hands.

Finally, he felt a light tug. He swallowed, but didn’t move. It seemed easier to stay out of sight.

Another tug was followed by a soft voice. "Si..." Soft, but a little tense, the tone wasn't to be denied, and Simon raised his head to just above the edge of the bed and came face to face with Toby, who'd turned onto his side and seemed to be waiting.

While it looked like Toby, what struck him in that face was an unmistakable something that could only be described as longing; even lust. It was mesmerizing. He'd know Toby for years, yet never had he seen those deep, toffee-brown eyes glinting with something so electric.

For a time, they just watched each other, measuring each other up. Simon was afraid to speak, and wouldn't have known what to say anyway as those eyes burned into him. The fact that they were entering new ground was apparent—the physical touching hinted at what that might be. Yet it had all happened so fast and he felt breathless and flushed. He knew he should say something, but nothing would come out.

"Do you want to?"

The tone of Toby’s leading question startled Simon. Normally gravelly with a voice that, unlike Simon’s own, had already fully broken, Toby was tight and dry.

Simon could have said, did he want to what, but he was left with no doubt what Toby meant—and it wasn't to enquire if he wanted to go sailing, or discuss the wall mural!

Did he want to?

What he wanted was more time. What he wanted was to drop down onto his bed again, and think it through properly. He was plagued with questions: how had this happened, how come he'd never seen it before? The difference between daydreaming in the classroom and this was huge. All the while, those eyes tormented him with their intensity.

The question hung there. Did he want to?

How could he not? In the potent gaze that held him, nothing else mattered.

Flustered even by the admission, he returned the slightest of nods. His usual carefully planned approach to his world had few messy edges, yet it all went out of the window as his mind and body sizzled with the enveloping flame that lit Toby.

Before he could figure out what he was meant to do, Toby slipped over the edge of the bed, and down onto Simon’s mattress. Sliding under the oversized duvet, Toby pulled it fully over the two of them, and it grew dark. In the blackness, they lay close. In at the deep end, Simon’s heart thumped.

Now what?

An arm came over the top of him and lay still. Simple. Protective. A cuddle. It was how he’d imagined it would be. A safe place…just to talk. He shifted onto his side to face the shape alongside him, wondering what they would say to each other.

Toby Skerrit was gay?

It just didn't seem possible, and in his head Simon started forming the questions that would provide the answers he needed to make sense of why they were lying together like this. Then again, perhaps it was better just say nothing and….and what? He wasn't cold, but he still shook with nervous anticipation.

However, when the arm moved, it didn't appear that Toby planned to be as restrained as he was. A hand touched Simon’s face and his chest, before reaching down to brush against him in a way that made him bite his lip and almost cry out. He remained rooted by apprehension and inexperience.

"If you want to stop, tell me." Out of the gloom, the eyes studied him.

Red, green. Stop, go.

"It's okay—I don't mind." Simon’s voice was husky, and sounded as confused and jittery as he felt.

In response, the hand left the tight lump in his boxers and took hold of his wrist. Firmly, it guided him until it rested on something that shook him almost as much as being touched. The hidden hand, like a puppeteer’s strings, mentored him, sanctioning the contact and patiently instructing as he felt Toby through the stretched cotton. He got the idea, and when Toby’s hand let go, Simon didn't.

For several moments they gently rubbed each other through the soft material. It was already a warm night, in a room where the ceiling fan hardly compensated for an inefficient air-con unit. Under the covers, Simon’s flush deepened, and he wondered if he was going to cum.

Then, Toby moved again. Without a word, he slid his leg across Simon, bit by bit pushing him onto his back until he slid over the top. Simon fully expected to feel his weight, but Toby held off, and the only thing he felt between them was the shape of Toby’s erection pressing lightly onto him.

They froze there, with only the sound of their breathing to mark the point of no return. Mounted on top, it was a watershed moment for Simon as Toby straddled him, and he nearly foundered with his conflicting thoughts..

"Are you okay?" Toby’s husky voice was close, though he sounded so much more in control and confidant than Simon as they hung in the balance.

Simon didn't reply. Maybe that was all the answer Toby needed as, hovering in the darkness, he moved. Slowly at first, as if even he was unsure of what to do, he nudged once. And then again.

What was it? A tease? An offer? A last chance to back out?

Lightly, Simon rested his hands on Toby’s bum, hesitant and lacking confidence. Once more Toby scraped the green against the bright red, patiently eroding Simon’s ability to resist reciprocation.

Red, green. Yes, no....

It came again and, unable to help himself this time, he opened his mouth and groaned aloud.

Gripping the soft green of Toby’s backside harder, Simon ended the questions, pulling him firmly into contact. It seemed to goad Toby, who finally settled onto him to push again, and again, until a rhythm began to be established. Simon’s hands stayed gripping the warm green, joining that rhythm.

The bedding was constricting, the still air under the covers, stifling. At any other time, Simon would have called it uncomfortable. Now, it drove him and he broke out into a sweat. Under Toby's heavier frame, he became hot and sticky. It felt incredibly good. Driven by the rising temperature, their movements began to escalate as their sweat-slicked chests slid against each other. It wasn’t a question of if they would ejaculate, it was a matter of when.

Abruptly, Toby stopped, leaving Simon disappointed.

Throwing back the covers, he lifted himself off and went back onto his knees. However, staring feverishly at his profile, Simon had no impression that it was about to end. And he was right, as in the dim light, he watched Toby push down his boxers enough to let his shaft jump out.

It was the first time Simon had ever seen him hard, but Toby didn’t seem to care. Even in the dim light, the arousal he was carrying as he knelt before him was explicit. If he didn’t know better, Simon might almost have believed it was a different person crouched over him. He didn’t care as he reached up eagerly to pull him back down once more. Taking the duvet and pulling it over his head, Toby lowered himself again and covered them both.

He knew what he had to do as Toby reached for him. He raised his backside to allow the red boxers to be drawn off him. Quickly, though not violently, Toby tugged, and they were gone.

The darkness returned.

Full length, Toby lay over him and Simon savored it. He’d anticipated an immediate return to the frantic movements, yet it seemed like the clock had been turned back—like his world was restarting. Toby lay still. Maybe, like Simon, he was relishing every minute sensation of the intimate, full-body contact. If they had started some immediate pounding, it would have been fine—great, even—but this?

This was so much better.

Toby seemed in no rush, lying still, though the breathing in Simon’s ear sounded loud and aroused. He knew there would be more, but even if there wasn't, even if all they did now was lie together like this, it would be enough. A guy was holding him—one that felt the same way he did, and didn’t mind showing it.

Now he could die and go to heaven!

Every sensation was heightened, every nerve on full alert. The thought that there could be even more made him tingle with anticipation, and he knew he was quite ready for it.

What he wasn't quite ready for was dealing with 'the who’. It was just easier not to dwell too much on the idea of who's aroused naked form it was that was taking possession of him!

Moving his hands at last, he caressed the warm flash of Toby’s bum—a place he’d never touched in his life before. It seemed to act as a signal between them. Toby hissed softly, and started moving again.

With the return of the dark came a new sense of freedom. Without the barrier of clothing they both began to move again—faster now as the temperature soared once more. They became slick with sweat and pre-cum and, for Simon, the anonymity of darkness released his voice as he rode against the warm skin above him. He began to groan as his dick slipped and slid between their two bodies. The sound of his sex seemed to galvanize Toby, who reached around him, gripping across the small of his back. Locking him into place, Simon’s dick had nowhere to go and it became frantic and uncontrolled.

From above, though he couldn’t see it in the dark, a droplet of perspiration fell on him. The tired mattress seemed as energized as he was himself, giving off little squeaks which joined the soft cries escaping his open mouth as together they climbed towards release. An intense pleasure enveloped him, overpowering all other senses, and any comparison to sitting astride a hot water bottle on a pile of pillows seemed irrelevant.

Faster and faster they went. In a world where many would crucify them for what they were doing, two ordinary teenage boys who only knew that it felt right to them, climbed to a peak together.

Whatever Simon had imagined, it was hardly this. It was totally unplanned and there was hardly even time to pause to give time to think if any of it was even ‘normal’! The grinding became too much, and his body went stiff as Toby continue to thrust into him. Simon knew he wouldn’t last.

The enormity of his pending ejaculation clamoured for attention against the backdrop of the familiar room as, from the light from the back porch, the sweaty, sexually-charged boy rocked against him. Toby, who twisted and thrashed fiercely. Toby, who was making sounds that had no meaning in a dictionary. Toby who, like himself, was about to spurt.

His teeth gritted and he heaved. And then it was on him.

“OH FUCK…!” With a desperate hiss Simon bore the agony of the ecstasy as his dick jumped and pulsed white cream between them. Maybe Toby could tell he was cumming, as he abruptly shuddered, too. He started grunting as he ejaculated, thrusting into the combined gunge until it was over for both of them. Then he collapsed over the top of Simon, his weight pressing him down on top.

Between them, their dicks were still hard. After a few moments of heavy breathing, Toby rolled off him to flop on his back on what little space there was on the narrow mattress, leaving Simon shaking in the aftershocks. He wondered what to say, but nothing seemed to make sense. Toby was still breathing heavily and didn’t speak, either.

As Simon got hold of himself, his hand drifted to just above where he was still hard and discovered the spills of their semen, some of which, under the hum of the overhead fan, was beginning to slip down his side towards the bedding. Sitting up, he spied the soft green of the briefs Toby had discarded. Taking them, he wiped his belly as best he could.

He felt totally exhausted, wiped out by the intense emotion. Drained, it was as if the essence of every part of his being had been distilled into the volume of his semen and drawn out of him with the explosive ejaculation. Turning onto his side he dropped the soiled underwear onto the floor.

Still Toby hadn’t spoken, leaving him with a growing sense of disquiet. Had he done something wrong? Was it his fault? Had it been a mistake?

Then, the warm duvet was drawn over them again. From behind, an arm wrapped around him, spooning in close and soothing him—an act of comfort, of love. A soft kiss touched the back of Simon’s head and his beating heart slowed. There would be time to talk later. Maybe Toby was right—now was the time just to cuddle and be still. Feeling safe, Simon relaxed, happy to leave the questions alone for the time being. Tired, and against all the odds, he dropped off to sleep.