Stormy Weather - 1. Chapter 1

Stormy Weather

If anyone could see me now they'd think I was mad. They'd be right of course, but probably for the wrong reason. You see I don't think I'm crazy mad – well, maybe a bit, but I am angry mad. You can't actually see that I'm angry mad as that is hidden inside me. Not too deeply hidden I'll admit as it has burst to the surface on a few occasions over the last couple of days. Right now however, it is fairly well below the surface.

Let's face it though, you'd have to be mad to be sitting outside in a thunderstorm, on a table, wearing only a pair of gray briefs. So perhaps I am crazy mad? No, don't reckon so, as if I was crazy mad I'd be sitting here fully clothed. And I ain't crazy enough to get Grandpa riled up again, not so soon after Saturday night, or Sunday morning, to be precise. Hey, isn't that the title of some old film 'Saturday Night & Sunday Morning'? Well, I had one of those, but I doubt it was anything like the one in the film. Very probably that involved girls, or women. Mine didn't, well not much, at least as far as I remember!

So, I've felt like shit since then. Didn't even go to school on Monday and I never miss school. Ain't gone again today either. Grandpa don't know. He goes off to work early and I'm back from school before he returns, so there's no way he'd know. Of course with any other kid the school would call the parent to find out why the kid wasn't at school. But Grandpa, he ain't got a 'phone so it'll be a few days before the school find some other way to contact him. By then, hopefully, I'll have got over this and gone back to school. If so, he'll never know and that'll save me from a trip to the woodshed!

It feels like I've been sat here for ages. Can't tell how long as I'm not wearing a watch. Fortunately the rain is warm, so there's no fear of me 'catching my death' as my mom used to say. Oops, had a little gulp there thinking about her. She's been dead about three years now, the cancer took her. That was when I moved in with Grandpa because he's my only living relative. Guessed it would be better living with him than in a home, or with a foster parent - not that many foster parents want kids who are soon to become teenagers. Used to think about mom a lot, but not so much these days. Guess that's only natural, but when I do these days I usually feel guilty 'cos I'm not thinking of her so often.

Anyway, it has helped sitting here even if I do end up looking like a prune with wrinkled skin. Doesn't it say something in the bible about washing your sins away?

Reckon though it'd probably need more than a thunderstorm to wash mine away and the bible sure wouldn't approve of most of mine.

Think I'll stay here a bit longer. Grandpa won't be home for a while yet, so I've plenty of time to dry off and get a meal ready for us. Most of the time I've been sat here on my butt with my legs pulled up so my feet are on the front of the table. My arms are wrapped round my legs and my chin's sort of resting on my knees. I've mainly been daydreaming, either with my eyes closed or just staring into space. Some of the time though my thoughts go back to Saturday night and that's when I come to with a start, like I just did.

I thought I sensed a movement off to the right where the house is, but that can't be as there's nobody else here. And yet, yes there is. The door's opened and someone is standing there. Bit hard to make out who it is through all this rain, but then it dawns on me that it's Ethan. He used to be my best friend until a few weeks ago; indeed he was virtually my only friend. But then I sort of dumped him for Brett and that was what eventually led to me sitting here now.

Why's he here though? We've hardly spoken of late. And now what's he doing? I'm watching as he takes off his hoodie and then his t-shirt. He kicks off his sneakers and pulls off his socks. Then he unbuckles his belt, unzips the fly of his jeans, pushes them down his legs and steps out of them. Now he's wearing just a pair of briefs, like me, only his are black. He turns slightly sideways and I can see his package framed in them. Despite everything I can feel myself stir. 'If only', I say to myself, but I blew all that.

He steps out of the door and walks slowly across the grass to stand by the side of the table. Part of me wants to jump off the table and grab him, but I can't do that. I can't even really look at him.

“What the fuck are you doing Josh, sat out here in this thunderstorm wearing just your briefs?” he asks.

Despite everything I can't help the small chuckle that escapes my lips.

“And what the fuck are you doing standing there in the same thunderstorm, also just in your briefs?” I respond.

He laughs; I laugh. The tension that was there as he walked toward me has gone.

“Room for one more on the table?” he asks.

“Why not?” I say. If it breaks, so be it. It'll only mean another visit to the woodshed – and not to repair it!

“Move over then,” he says.

I scoot sideways along the table and wince slightly as I do so. Hopefully he didn't notice. Ethan clambers onto the table and arranges himself in an identical posture to me, so we are sitting beside each other, but with a few inches between us.

“Are you in pain?” he asks, placing his right hand on my left forearm as he does. The touch is gentle, his voice concerned. “Has your grandfather...?”

I cut him off before he can finish the question. “No, it's nothing like that.”

“So why weren't you at school for the last two days? I thought you must be ill, so decided to cycle over after school finished today.”

“You must be mad cycling over in this all this rain.”

“I'd already got soaked cycling home from school, so coming on here didn't make any real difference. Anyway, you're the one who must be mad just sitting out here with nothing on when you don't need to.”

“I have got something on and wearing just my briefs makes more sense than sitting here fully clothed.”

Ethan laughs. I love the sound of his laugh, it's so genuine and makes his face even more attractive. I've missed hearing his laugh and seeing his face, come to that.

“I'll give you that,” he responds, “but you haven't told me why you're sitting here?”

And that is the big question. It demands a big answer. But am I ready to tell him? More than that, if I do answer, should I tell him the truth, or make something up? I suppose I could tell him some of the truth, but I doubt that would satisfy him and he'd want to know more. I sit there trying to decide. Time seems to stand still while the rain continues to pour down. Ethan sits patiently alongside me. His hand, which was just resting on my forearm now starts to slowly and gently stroke up and down. I can feel a tingle in a certain area.

Just then there is a flash of lightning and a huge rumble of thunder almost directly overhead.

“We can't stay here!” I exclaim.

I push myself off the table and run toward the house. Ethan is right behind me. As we get to the door there is another flash of lightning, incredibly close. I glance over my shoulder and see it has struck the top of the metal clothes pole. Little bits of fire are dancing around it. Ethan stumbles and cannons into me. Has he been hit? That would be simply too much to bear. I pull the door open and stumble into the house. I can sense that he is right behind me.

“Are you alright?” I ask.

“That was too close for comfort,” he replies. “I'm sure I can feel static on my body.”

I turn and look at him. His hair does appear to be standing on end, but otherwise he looks normal – thank goodness.

I take a step forward and wrap my arms around him, pulling him into a hug. His arms go round me and we stand there each hugging the other's soaking wet body while the water drips off us and begins to pool on the linoleum.

We are both quite thin, neither of us being sporty types, but Josh is about three inches taller than me. Thus, my head sort of nestles into his shoulder.

“For a moment I thought I'd lost you there,” I mumble.

“I did lose you,” he mumbles back.

I take a second or two to absorb and understand what he said. I pull away slightly and look into his dark brown eyes – or at least as much of them as I can see because his hair is no longer standing on end but is now plastered down on his forehead and partially hiding his eyes. But, I'm almost certain I can see a tear running down his cheek, or is it just a raindrop?

“What do you mean 'you lost me'?”

“You just cut me out of your life about two months ago. I thought we were best friends and then 'poof' you were gone.”

It was true, I had cut him out. I thought I'd burned my boats, or bridges, or whatever the saying is. But, now he's here and we've just hugged. He shivers and I can see goosebumps on his arms. I realise we need to get dry. Telling him to stay there I go and fetch a couple of towels so we can dry ourselves, which we proceed to do individually. We're close now, but not touching, allowing room for towelling.

Ethan starts to lower his briefs. We've seen each other naked before, but I can't help looking at what is revealed as he pushes them down his legs and then stands before me in all his glory. He's uncut and there's nothing much to see right now what with all that rain, but even so it stirs me. I start to follow his lead and then hesitate, but I have to carry on and push my briefs down my legs and step out of them. As I stand back up, he's looking.

“Shite, Josh! What have you done?”

He's looking at my dick, or for the question, specifically the area just above it which has been shaved to leave just a hardly noticeable stubble starting to grow back.

“It's a long story, or at least part of a long story.” I could feel tears beginning to form in my eyes.

He stepped forward and hugged me again. It felt so good to be in his arms, but I knew I didn't deserve it.

“Then I want to hear it – all of it.”

By now we were both shivering, even though we were dry.

“Shall we go to my room? It'll be more comfortable sitting down rather than standing here – and it is a long story.”

“It'll be even more comfortable and a lot warmer if we both get in your bed.”

He grinned as he said those words. I reached out, took his hand and led him to my bedroom He didn't resist. Maybe things would be alright I told myself as we entered the room, but I knew I shouldn't raise my hopes.

“It will be both, but are you sure?” I ask as I push the door to behind us.

“I'm sure, but what about you? When does your grandfather get back?”

As he finishes the question I feel another twitch. This one though is in my butt rather than my dick.

“We've got a good hour or so before he'll return. Anyway, we'll hear his truck and that'll give us time to get some clothes on.”

He smiled, “Better safe than sorry, eh?” I felt that twitch again, just a little stronger. I had a good idea of what grandfather's reaction would be if he found me in bed with Ethan.

My room was sparse with just a single bed, a chest of drawers and an old wooden wardrobe. A rug was by the bed, the rest of the floor was covered in linoleum. I led him to the bed and pulled back the comforter. I slid in first and moved over next to the wall; he slid in beside me.

“Roll on your side,” he said. I turned to face the wall.

“Not really what I meant,” said a voice in my ear, “but it'll do for a start.”

It would have to do for more than a start I said to myself. There was no way I could face him while telling him. He must have turned onto his side as I felt him snuggling behind me. To feel his still damp body next to mine was amazing and it produced the inevitable reaction. One that was intensified as his right arm came across my chest and pulled us really tight. His fingers wandered down below my belly button. “Mmm... that feels nice.” he said as they stroked across the shaved area. It did indeed feel nice, very nice and I could feel my dick rising.

“Okay,” he said. “We're both comfortable now and I could easily go to sleep holding you like this, but you have a story to tell. So start!”

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