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- 06/17/2021
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
An Overheard Conversation - 2. AOC2
It was thus after school on Thursday when we next cycled home together. Although I'd seen Wayne for lunch he hadn't said very much other than that his granpaw had said something interesting and he was going to spend his free period that afternoon in the library to see if he could find out anything more. I'm sure the librarian had a considerable shock on seeing Wayne and actually being asked questions by him as I was sure if he ever went there it would only be to sit and read.
After we'd got home, talked with my mom for a few minutes and had our snack in the kitchen, we went up to my room.
“Come on Wayne, what's your granpaw told you?”
“Well, he doesn't know any real detail which was what I tried to find out in the library, but he said he'd heard talk of this special group of Indians who the army used to talk on the radio in their own language 'cos the Japs couldn't understand what they were saying. He said he thought they were called something like 'Windsurfers', but I couldn't find anything under that name.”
“Wow, Wayne. That'd be great if we can find out something about them. I wonder if I can find anything on the Internet?”
“Dunno. May just be granpaw's imagination at work.”
I fired up my computer and went searching. It took a while, but eventually I hit pay dirt and landed on 'Windtalkers'. Wayne and I spent the next few minutes silently reading about the truly amazing and dangerous job those Navajos had done during the war in the Pacific. Finding that there had even been instructions to the marine guards who accompanied them on the front line, to shoot them rather than allow the Japs to capture them, really put things into perspective. When we came across that particular piece of information, Wayne had commented that was just typical – white man shoot unarmed Indian. I told him that he was being stupid saying that and that I expected had a situation like that arisen, it was almost certain they would all have been killed. He seemed rather upset about it for a while, but we continued with our reading until we reached the end.
We sat there almost too stunned by what we'd read to say anything.
“Wayne, this is brilliant. You must thank your granpaw. We've definitely found something different and special.”
“They sure were special. Telling the kids here about them won't make any difference though. I'll still be a 'breed' who they can look down on.”
“Wayne, I don't look down on you. My folks don't look down on you. I'm sure there are others.”
He looked at me and I thought I could see a tear forming in the corner of his eye. “No, you don't. I'm sorry I said that, but sometimes...”
I took a chance and moved my chair so I could wrap an arm round his shoulder. “We're friends Wayne and that's what's important. Mom's cooking her special lasagne tonight. After that we can think about how we're going to present this project and watch another movie.”
“That reminds me.” He walked over to where he'd left his backpack by 'his' side of the bed. He dug around inside it and emerged holding two small brown paper bags. He handed one to me.
“These are your boxers. I've washed them.”
“Thanks, but you didn't need to. I could have put them in with my laundry.”
“No, Ethan. I had to wash them.”
There was a little smile trying to form around his mouth and especially in his eyes. The penny dropped.
“Oh, you had to wash them did you?” I replied breaking into a real grin.
“You ever tried walking around all day in someone else's boxers?” I shook my head and started to laugh out loud. “No, I didn't think you had, but you can find out what it's like tomorrow.”
With that he handed me the other bag. I opened it, put my hand in and emerged holding a pair of tighty whitey briefs. I hadn't worn tighty whities for a couple of years, but the thought of wearing these, coupled with the knowledge that Ethan had previously worn them, produced a reaction in my dick. I automatically moved my hand down to adjust it. Ethan noticed, “Finding out before you even put them on I see. Just make sure you wash them before you give them back,” he said with a grin.
“Screw you!” I said laughing out loud. I stood up and pushed him backwards until the backs of his legs met the edge of the bed. Inevitably he fell backwards and I fell on top of him. We were both laughing now, something I couldn't recall seeing him do before. I started tickling him, he responded and we both began rolling around on the bed, laughing as we did so. I discovered that he was stronger than I expected as after a few minutes I ended up on my back with him sitting astride my stomach while my arms were pinned above my head. He held me there for what seemed like ages, but was not more than a few seconds while we both wondered what to do.
I had an idea. “I'm all hot and sweaty after that. Fancy a swim?”
“You've got a pool?”
“Yeah, and I can even lend you a costume. Nude bathing's not allowed because of the neighbors.”
“Sounds good”, he said releasing his grip, “as long as it's not a speedo.”
That seemed a slightly strange request, especially as I was intending to wear one, but I found him a pair of board shorts. He went off to the bathroom to change into those while I took off my t-shirt, boxer briefs and shorts and pulled on my speedo. When he came back into the room he stopped and did a double take.
“Wow! A white speedo looks really good with that all over tan. Reckon you'll look just as good in tighty whities!”
“How do you know it's all over? Been looking after PE?”
It was a throwaway line, but he almost stepped back as if I'd hit him. “I don't look. I learned long ago never to look at anyone in the locker room.”
“Wayne, I was joking. It is all over though as where we lived before the garden and pool were private so I could swim naked and well, if you're swimming naked there's no point in getting dressed before or after. Come on, let's swim.”
I was a good swimmer and on the school team, so I was a lot better than him, but we had fun for the next hour or so, throwing a ball and a ring around, splashing each other, (of course) and even just lying on the air beds. It was good to have someone to share with again. We were both definitely ready for dinner when mom called us in.
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I have to say spending the next day in those tighty whities was an experience. I hadn't given any thought the other day to what Wayne might experience wearing my boxer briefs, but I could feel myself getting hard on several occasions during the day – especially when sitting opposite him at lunch and next to him in our English class afterwards.
He didn't come home with me that afternoon as he was working again that night. It felt quite lonely without him and I'll admit to lying on the bed in just those tighty whities and stroking myself through the material. Being circumcised pre-cum was a rarity for me, but it did happen that afternoon. I suspected that Wayne might well be uncut and wondered if I'd ever find out.
He did though spend most of the weekend with us, arriving on the Saturday morning dressed in shorts. That was a surprise, never having seen him in anything other than the heavy denims he always wore to school. We did some homework, worked on our project and spent a lot of time in and around the pool. Dad grilled steaks on both the Saturday and Sunday evenings and by the end of the weekend both my parents had really come to accept him. Initially he didn't want to stay on the Sunday night and tried the lack of underwear excuse, but of course that wasn't going to work. However, he did insist on setting my alarm for thirty minutes earlier on the basis that he had to go home and see his mom before going to school. As he never usually seemed bothered about seeing him mom, or what she was doing, that didn't make a lot of sense, but I wasn't going to argue over it. In fact from things he'd said over the last week or so, I had the impression he spent more time at his grandparent's home than in his own. My suspicions as to his reason were confirmed when I saw him in home room wearing his usual thick jeans and denim jacket. When I asked him why he'd needed to change he shrugged and said something to the effect of needing to change into his school uniform.
It was at lunch on Thursday that things started to come to a head. When I went into the cafeteria and got my meal I noticed he wasn't sitting at our usual table. He arrived a few minutes later, without any food. He pulled out the chair opposite me and sat down. As his butt touched the chair I noticed a pained expression on his face.
“Wayne, are you going to tell me what's going on?”
I didn't get an immediate reply. I decided it was now or never.
“Is this something to do with Jackson and your butt?”
His head shot up. “What do you know, Ethan? I guess it's the talk of the school – when am I going to give in.”
“I don't know about the talk of the school. As you know, hardly anyone else talks to me. I just happened to overhear part of a conversation between Jackson and Reynolds a couple of weeks ago when Jackson said he wasn't sure how much more your butt could take, but he was sure you'd learn your lesson eventually. I have no idea what it's all about though.”
“It's about this,” he said stretching one hand back to the hair hanging down his shoulders. “He told me a few weeks back I had to get it cut to neck length. I had a week or so to think about it. After that he told me to report to him each morning before school started and he'd give me one lick with his paddle. That wasn't a problem; one lick is nothing. Last week he upped it to two licks. Still not too bad, I've taken five at a time before now. But this is every day and in the morning, so I have to sit on my butt all day. Now he's told me it'll be three a day from Monday. I don't think I can take that, Ethan.”
I listened in stunned silence while he told me what had been happening to him. I knew paddling happened in the school; indeed I'd seen a couple of kids be sent off to Jackson by a teacher to be paddled. But I'd never thought it could be used for something like this and on a continual basis. That seemed barbaric. No wonder Ethan always wore thick jeans.
“You're coming home with me tonight. I'm going to look through the school rule book and see if what he is doing is right. Even if it is, perhaps we can come up with an idea that will mean he doesn't totally win.”
“Okay, I'll come home with you, but I don't think you've got much chance with either. I'll take my two tomorrow I guess. At least then he can spend the weekend wondering. I'm almost certain he'll be disappointed if I do get it cut.”
“You mean he enjoys doing it?” He nodded. “Yeah, that's what I thought when I overheard that conversation. He's a fucking asshole!”
A grin spread across Wayne's face. “I don't think I've ever hear you swear before.”
“I've never had a teacher beating a friend before.”
Wayne stretched his hand across the table to touch mine. “And I've never had a friend before.”
Just then the bell sounded to signify the end of lunch break so we were saved from saying anything else.
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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