Bobby-Jack

When you grow up in a small town, you go to school with a very diverse population of students. There were 74 people in my graduating class and it was a big class compared to some years. You had the kids from wealthy families, kids from farming families, kids from poor families. And, of course, birds of a feather flocked together in their little cliques. Well, except for Bobby-Jack Moffat, who seemed to be in a clique of his own. The Moffats were a strange bunch to everyone in the county. Bobby-Jack himself was a red-headed menace.

He was always being sent to the principal's office. Most of his time seemed to be spent in detention or being suspended. He was always picking fights or playing weird pranks, like letting a mouse loose in the middle of our English class.

Most parents told their kids to avoid Bobby-Jack. However, my parents told me that maybe Bobby-Jack just needed a friend and asked me to put forth the effort to be kind and friendly to him. I made an effort and soon we had become pretty good friends. I discovered we liked some of the same things.

Eventually, we were hanging out together at break times during school. He had even started to drop by my house after school and we'd play video games or watch television. People had begun to wonder what was going on with Bobby-Jack. He was being nicer to people and better behaved in class. A teacher pulled me aside and thanked me for being a good influence on him. I insisted that Bobby-Jack was just a good guy deep down inside.

Unfortunately, Bobby-Jacks parents divorced for the third time; and Bobby-Jack, being very upset and lashing out, got into a fight at school with one of the snotty rich kids. Bobby-Jack broke the kid's nose and was quickly expelled. Of course, people started to say things like 'once a bad egg, always a bad egg'. I myself knew that he was a good guy deep down. His mother immediately moved away with some guy she met in a bar and took Bobby-Jack and his siblings with her. I figured I'd never see Bobby-Jack again.

Years later, I had moved back home after many years of living in the big city. I built a nice house out on my family's land. I had had enough of the pressurized rat race and had needed a drastic change before I ended up dying from the stress of it all.

One day, I was in the town's drugstore and heard someone call out my name.

"Clay Henry?" someone shouted behind me. "Clay, is that you?"

I turned around and suddenly I couldn't hold even a box of cold medicine. It flopped around in my hands like a just-caught fish, and then it fell to the floor. My mouth dropped open and my eyes followed the big handsome muscled dude, who had just gotten my attention, as he bent down, grabbed the box and handed it back to me.

"I didn't mean to startle you like that," the guy said with a thick Southern accent and a laugh. "You are Clay Henry, right?"

"Uhm, yeah. That's me. Yep, I'm Clay," I managed to say, stumbling over my words.

"Oh, man! I knew that was you! So great to see you!" the guy exclaimed. "I'm Bobby-Jack...Bobby-Jack Moffat. Well, I go by B.J or just Bobby now," he told me. "Great to see ya, Clay!"

I was completely stunned. Bobby-Jack had been a plump short kid with orange red hair and covered in freckles. But B.J. was well over six feet tall with muscles stretching the t-shirt he was wearing.

He had broad shoulders that tapered down to a thin waist in a v-shape you would never believe could actually exist until you saw it on him. His hair was dark red auburn, buzzed on the back and sides with a tousled, gelled mass on top. He was still freckled but they were not as prominent on his dark tanned skin. His eyes were still the most natural green I had ever seen on a person. He was beautiful.

"I never expected to see you again, Clay," he said to me. "How's it going?" he asked, extending his hand and giving me a big white smile.

"Pretty good, and great to see you too," I said, shaking his hand and feeling amazed by the firm grip. "I've been back here a couple years now."

"Just got out of the Marines myself," he told me. "Been staying with my sister at my grandmother's old place since I got back to town last week."

We chatted for a second, and he asked if I wanted to go for a drink and dinner later to get caught up. Of course, I agreed but invited him out to my house. He agreed and I gave him directions. Then he left. I watched as he climbed onto a very large motorcycle and took off. Damn, I wanted that red-headed hunk; and my hard-hard cock, hidden by my red shopping basket, was agreeing with me.

I spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning myself and the house up. I decided to cook a couple steaks, and had beer chilling when I heard Bobby-Jack's motorcycle pull up. I ran around the house to get Roscoe, my dog; but found him licking at Bobby-Jack, who was on his haunches beside his motorcycle rubbing Roscoe all over.

"Sweet dog," he said to me. "They all seem to like me."

Who wouldn't, I thought to myself, jealous of the attention Roscoe was getting from the beautiful man.

"Don't let him fool you. He's buttering you up for a bite of your steak," I laughed. "Well, glad you found the place. Come on round the back."

We both went around to the back, followed closely by my faithful "guard dog". I grabbed Bobby-Jack a beer while he looked around.

"Great place, Clay!" he said. "A swimming pool, hot tub, wonderful patio!" He pointed at my big covered back porch. "Man, it looks like a den or living room...damn, even a fucking television!" He caught himself cursing and put a hand to his mouth. "Excuse me; I know I sound like a country hick. I've been all over the world but still act like naive Bobby-Jack from the boondocks," he said with a laugh.

"It's cool, Bobby-Jack," I said.

"No, call me Bobby. I haven't been Bobby-Jack in years," he told me, as he plopped down on a lounger near the pool. "Damn, man, I'm glad you did good. Well, I'm assuming you did good with all this," he said, pointing everything out with his beer bottle.

"Yeah, I was a pretty good businessman. Now I'm ready to slow life down a bit. Enjoy the country, do some writing, do some swimming..."

"Yeah, swimming! Do you mind if I take a quick dip? All that dust from the dirt roads around here gets to me."

"Go ahead, we got awhile before we eat," I urged.

"Thanks, Clay!" he responded as he pulled off his t-shirt.

I felt a bit giddy and light-headed as his torso came into view. His rounded muscled chest was covered in thick sable -colored hair. His chest hair turned into a dense trail that divided his prominent eight-pack abs, running into his shorts. His sides were defined by a set of prominent lines leading from his hips towards his groin -cum gutters, v-lines, an Adonis belt, whatever you wanted to call them. A large marine tattoo sat on his upper arm.

He pulled off his hiking boots and socks. He smiled at me as he pulled on his belt and dropped his shorts. He wasn't wearing any underwear. His soft fat cock, jutted out from a full patch of red-auburn hair. He kicked away his shorts and ran to the pool, diving with a huge splash and disappearing under the water. He soon bobbed up like a mer-man. He yelled for me to join him, but I pointed at the grill. He gave me an OK sign and dived under the water like a happy seal.

With the steaks almost done, I fetched him a big towel. I motioned for him to come out. He pulled himself out of the pool with a big smile on his face. He ran his hands through his hair and then shook his head like a wet dog. He took the towel I offered and patted it all over his muscled hairy body. He wrapped it around his body like a sarong and grabbed us two beers while I plated our steaks.

After we fished eating, I carried the dishes to the kitchen. I figured he'd get dressed while I was gone. But when I got back, he had cleaned off the rest of the table and was laid back in a lounge chair still wearing only his towel with another beer in his hand.

"Grab another beer and sit down," he told me. "There's something I want to say to you."

I grabbed a beer and sat in chair across from him, eager to hear what he had to say. I was also enjoying looking at his perfect body laid out on display in front of me. He had pulled the towel up, it now rested just above his knees.

"I am so fucking glad I found you again, dude," he said, then took a swig of his beer. "You have no idea what you did for me."

"It was just steak and beer...and a swim," I responded.

"No, no, high school," he said, "when you were so friendly to me. All those others were completely awful to me. When you talked to me, you really talked to me. You were...are a really nice guy. You talked to me more than my own damn family did. You were the nicest person I ever knew back then." He wiped his forearm over his face and took another swig of beer.

"Well, I didn't know that. My mom and dad had initially told me to give you chance and, boy, I'm glad they did. I enjoyed our friendship. I was sad when you suddenly moved off."

"Me too. My damn mother and her goddamn fucking men," he growled, pausing for a second. "I had a rough few years after that, but I never forgot you, man. Cheers to finding old friends again!"

"Cheers!" I responded, lifting my beer bottle and taking a sip.

"I joined the Marines and got the discipline I really needed. You and the Marines were the best things ever in my life."

I kind of got teary-eyed when he said that. We talked about what we each had done over the years. I talked about my job in the business world and how it had taken its toll on me. He talked about traveling the world with the Marines and his adventures. He told me he wanted to settle down and live a quieter life too.

"Well, the way you look, I'm sure you'll have every lady in this and the next three counties begging to go out on a date with you...a sort of Oxford County version of 'The Bachelor'," I joked.

"Uhm, naw," he said with a laugh. "Not really my cup of tea."

I twisted in my chair and took a long drink on my beer. Was he saying what I was hoping he was saying?

"Excuse me?" I asked him, my eyes wide.

"I'm gay," he said bluntly. "I hid it for years. I thought I was in high school. My mother kicked me out when I finally told her years later and my dad...well, he said he'd kill me if he ever saw me again. My sister was always cool with it though. I thought joining the Marines might change me and make me straight. It only reinforced what I already knew about myself."

"Well, I'm sorry you had to go through all that."

"It's cool. What do they say 'what doesn't kill us, only makes us stronger'."

"Yeah, have been there myself," I said to him.

"So you're..."

"Yeah," I laughed. "Too bad I didn't know it in high school, we could've had some even better times," I said as I got up and slowly walked over to the cooler to grab another beer.

I stood there for a bit just staring out into the dusky grayness that had set in. I twisted off the bottle cap. Then I felt something behind me. Bobby-Jack had grabbed me, keeping me from turning around. I felt him lean into me, pressing his body tight against me. I closed my eyes as I felt his breath on my neck.

"We didn't have high school, but we do have now," he whispered into my ear.