I have been reading stories for several years, and I thought I'd try writing one, so this is my first attempt. It's based a lot on my youth with respect to people (names changed) and places and even some events, though most of the sexual situations are fiction. If you are under legal age to read, or in an area which prevents this, please leave now. Remember this was the mid 1970s and HIV wasn't a thing. Play safe today.
This starts out slow, but will include much more of what you're looking for in later chapters. I've already written 30 chapters and plan to post regularly. I would appreciate constructive feedback and suggestions. I can be reached at DeansBicha@gmail.com. Thanks.
Dean's Bicha, Part One.
It was May 1974, and I was standing among some shrubs and weeds of the now overgrown fields across the street from my house. I grew up in a small, rural area on the outskirts of town. The property had all been farming land at one time, but the owner, Mr. Mann, had decided for whatever reason to sell off some property and one row of houses was developed along one side of the street. The other side was no longer being farmed (we found out much later that Mr. Mann was in the process of selling 200 acres to the state for a branch of the state college). He still worked the land behind our homes and beyond toward the woods.
There were just over 2 dozen homes with 150 feet of street frontage that stretched along that developed 3/4 mile long section of our road. The other end of the street went thru his farm land and then woods. Each property was about one acre which meant the houses were not too close together but not too far apart that you didn't know your neighbors either.
I was 13 and was just finishing 8th grade. I started school at four years old because of my birthday so I was always one of the youngest kids in my class. Thus making me one of the smallest too. I was skinny and not into team sports at all which made me a target for bullies, but somehow I managed not to get harassed much. Maybe my sense of humor kept me from being picked on. I knew I liked boys in a sexual way more than girls but never used the terms queer, homo, or fag to describe myself. I did know to keep my feelings to myself and actually had quite a few boys and girls as friends. I had a thin penis almost 6 inches long already surrounded by a full set of pubes with fully dropped balls with some hairs on them too. At least I had an early puberty unlike some of my fellow classmates. (Im still slender to this day but now sport a 7 1/4 inch dick.). Like most teenagers going thru that stage of life, my body wasn't in proportion so my man size genitals look huge on my skinny body.
Anyway, back to that day in May after school. It was a sunny and warm and I was indulging in one of my hidden pleasures, having a good jack off session while outside completely naked. I loved the feeling of the sun on my entire body and the thrill of walking around without any clothes. I was about three houses down from my own, where a family had just moved in. They had two boys who were about my age or a little younger. I overheard my parents and neighbors talking about the new family saying that the boys were going to finish the school year in their old town then transfer next year into our school system.
I hadn't yet met them but I knew their names were Dale and Dean Soarer. I was hoping to spot them again as I had the two previous days but no such luck. On the first day, they were both shirtless and in very short cutoff jeans, as were common in the 70s, kicking a soccer ball around. The second day, only the older one was there in a pair of small, tight, red gym shorts with white piping. What I especially noticed was above the back of the shorts you could see the waistband and quite a bit of his tighty whiteys. Half of his butt was practically showing. Boy was that hot.
By the standards of the time, that was unheard of. Unlike today where boys underwear totally makes a fashion statement with pants barely hanging on to ones hips, back then nobody wanted anyone to see their briefs. I can remember the taunting song: I see London, I see France, I see whoever's underpants.
So there I was naked and rubbing one out in this empty overgrown field, heart pumping with adrenaline hoping to see the two cute new boys. Part of me hoped they would see me and join me for some fun, while most of me did NOT want to get caught. Just as I was about to explode I thought I saw something move to my right. I immediately dropped down to the ground, still holding my dick as if that was going to protect me, and with heart racing a mile a minute quickly crawled back to my bike and my clothes.
I barely had time to scramble back into my briefs and shorts, quite a difficult thing to do as I never took my sneakers and socks off, when out of some shrubs popped Dale and Dean.
"Hey," shouted Dean, the younger of the two. Both had huge smiles on their faces as if they had just won a million dollars.
"Hey," I answered back.
"What are you doing out here?" Dale asked, as he dropped a small duffle bag he was carrying next to my bike.
"Just taking a leak." Long pause. "I'm Jamie. You must be the new kids who moved in down the street?" I asked in a vain attempt to cover my tracks. It didn't work.
"Nothing else?" Dean said sarcastically as both boys actually giggled.
I knew I was busted but I had to keep trying as I began stumbling over my words, "No, n..nothing else."
"Save it," Dale shouted out, "we saw you two days ago watching us and jerking off. What are you some kind of homo?"
By now my heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my head. My eyes were going gray, my palm were sweating, and I thought my life is over.
"Did you notice I wasn't out yesterday afternoon when you were spying on us?" Dean questioned.
"Yeah. I mean no. I mean you weren't?" I foolishly responded.
The brothers now openly laughed as Dean told Dale he knew I was queer and that I just confirmed I had been watching them. I wanted the earth to open up and swallow me.
"No, I wasn't with him. I was right over there." Dean pointed to a spot about 25-30 feet away toward some really dense growth.
Dean then proceeded to tell me how he had snuck around and hidden there before either his brother or I were outside. He was waiting for me so he could capture it all on film. He then produced a somewhat blurry Polaroid picture of me doing my thing standing in the field naked. He said it was worst one of three, with the other two safely stored, so don't even think about destroying it or my parents would see the other two.
While certainly not a clear shot of me from that distance given the technology of the day, you could tell it was indeed me. And if there were any doubt, my bike was in the background. I had just gotten a new, blue, 5 speed, banana seat bike. I was the only one on the street with one like that. My brain stopped processing anything at that point and Dean took the photo out of my hand and put it back in his pocket. Big mistake on my part.
He had to tell me twice before I responded, "What?!"
"He said to strip. Get naked. Loose the clothes," Dale repeated his brother's instruction.
"Why?"
"Do it!" They both barked at me, with Dean now waiving the picture at me. The threat was understood.
I toed off my sneakers then unsnapped my cutoffs and lowered the zipper. I looked over to Dale and Dean and their eyes were practically falling out of their heads. As much as I thought I had wanted to be caught, it was to have another playmate. But this was just humiliating. I was now being order to strip and they didn't give me any indication that they were going to join me. And they didn't.
My mouth was as dry as the desert as I lowered my shorts and kicked them off. I don't know how much time pasted with us looking at each other without a word being spoken before I was able to hook my thumbs in my briefs and take them off too, tossing them with my shorts next to my t-shirt and bike. I instinctively covered myself which Dean told me to put my arms at my sides and stand at Attention. There I was for the world to see standing in a field wearing nothing but calf high white athletic socks with blue trim.
"Mom was right. She said a bicha would do what we tell him," Dean said to his older brother, as the two laughed hysterically.
"What's a bicha?" I asked, not even dealing with what their mother may or may not know.
"It's Portugese for FAG," Dean laughed, "just what you are. Our little bicha. Our family fag."
OMG! Family Fag?! What have I gotten myself into I thought. Could this get any worse? At that moment I didn't think I could be any more embarrassed. How wrong I would be.
To Be Continued...