Markwildyr.com,Post #261

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 Hope you had a great St. Patrick’sDay and didn’t get pinched too often for failing to wear green.

 

This week we have an original storynot a rerun or a guest post. I hope you enjoy the story of a youth strugglingto make the conversion from Tommy to Tom.

 

* * * *

TOMMY

ByMark Wildyr

 

“Tommy?”

I bristled at the name, butthat was just my mother’s way. I was Tommy here at home but Tom at school.Except for Marge Whitsock—and I didn’t mind the familiar from her, just like shedidn’t object to being Margie to me.

“Yes, Mom.”

“Will you run to the store.I’ve got so much to do today, it would be a big help.”

“Sure.” Any excuse to drive my’85 Mustang. I’ve had it for a whole semester now, but still got a kick out ofbuckling into the seat and feeling the power of the beast. “What’cha need?”

It turned out to be quite alist, but what the heck. The only thing was, I was a little ambivalent aboutentering Hawthorne’s Grocery. Mr. Hawthorne was okay, but his son was somethingelse. Neil was in my senior class at Putnam High, and I had a funnyrelationship with him. Relationship? That was a stretch. I wasn’t even a blipon Neil’s radar. He was the only other kid who still called me Tommy, and thatwas because it kept me an inferior to our town’ football running back hero.

At first, I thought I’d luckedout, and he wasn’t working this Saturday. But as I left the store, Neil pulledup in his Camaro and walked over to where I was loading groceries into mytrunk.

“Take the cart back in foryou, Tommy,” he offered.

“Thanks.”

“How you doing? Ready forgraduation?”

Wow. He was staying forconversation. “As much as I can be.”

He grinned, going from justgood looking to downright handsome. “Yeah, I get you. Be great getting out ofhigh school, but that means ripping the old gang to shreds. I hear you’re goingto State too. See you there, I guess”

I hesitated. Might as well getthis over and done with. “Uh… you think you could call me Tom when we getthere?”

The grin died. “You don’t getit, do you?”

“Get what?”

“That’s a term of affection.”

He grabbed my now-empty cartand headed for the store. I watched him until he disappeared through theautomatic double doors… with my mouth hanging open, I’m sure.

****

Football season ended, springarrived, and everyone concentrated on proms and getting ready for tests andgraduation. Finals were a busy time for me, not just preparing for the examsbut also doing some tutoring. I often wondered if I shouldn’t become a teacherbecause I liked helping other students prepare for the biggest academic eventof their year.

This semester, I got asurprise when our science teacher Mrs. Levy asked me to give Neil Hawthorne ahand. Neil had never needed help before. I’d had a couple of classes with himthis semester and knew him to be a bright guy. Yeah, he had it all. Looks, athleticprowess, and brains.

Nonetheless, I swallowed mysurprise and agreed to give him a hand. That very afternoon, he approached meas I left the school building and headed for my Mustang.

“Hey, Tommy, wait up!”

I obediently halted until hereached my side, and then we walked to the parking lot.

“Mrs. Levy told me you’dagreed to help. Appreciate it. When can we get together?"

“On one condition,” I said asa brainstorm struck. “You call me Tom from now on.”

He gave me a look. “Yeah,sure. Agreed. Okay?”

“Okay. When do you want tostart.”

“My folks are going to my auntand uncle’s house for dinner this evening. How about we grab burgers and meetfor a session.”

“Sure.” My turn to flash him alook. “Didn’t know you had trouble in science. In any class, as a matter offact.”

“Not exactly trouble. Justlike to have a firmer footing, I guess you could say.”

We settled on a time, got intoour respective vehicles, and went our separate ways.

****

I showed up at his house righton the dot. Per agreement, he’d stopped on the way home from work and got ourburgers and fries. As we sat down and popped lids on our drinks—he was diet Coke;I was regular Dr. Pepper—he leaned back and spread his legs comfortably. We atein silence for a minute or two before he hit me with a question.

“How come you don’t like to becalled Tommy?”

“It’s a little boy’s name,” Icame back at him.

“Or a term of… familiarity, Iguess you could say.”

“Maybe. But it seems to melike it’s saying you’re the grown-up and I’m the little kid.”

He took another bite andmunched with a thoughtful look on his face before taking it a step further.

“It’s kinda like Pepe beingPepito.”

“Yeah. Like Pepe being littlePepe,” I countered.

He got that cogitating lookagain. “Familiarity.”

I shook my head. “Dissing.”

“So I’m calling you ‘LittleTom,’ huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you?” he asked, puttinghis greasy napkin on the plate and downing the last of his fries.

“Am I what?”

“Little Tom?”

“Hell, Neil, you got eyes. I’mabout as tall as you are.”

“Not talking about how tallyou are.”

“Then what—” I interruptedmyself with a choking sound. “You mean….”

“Exactly.”

My face heated up, and mycheeks stung. “You suggesting we measure?”

“Why not, Tom. Or maybe Tommy’smore appropriate.”

I didn’t know what to say,much less what to do. I wasn’t into sports, so I didn’t spend time in thelocker room like lots of jocks, but word around school was Neil had about thebiggest one on campus. I couldn’t help it; my eyes went south.

Neil was sprawled in his seat,one foot beneath the chair, the other stretched out in front of him. Anoticeable lump emphasized the fullness of his groin. I’m sure my face gotredder as I realized I was curious about… it.

He moved, taking me bysurprise. His hands dealt with his belt buckle in one second flat. Then he hesitatedwith his fingers on the top button of his fly. “Well? You chicken?”

“I… I….”

He redid his belt. “Figured. SoI guess you’ll stay Tommy.”

“Wait!” I cried. Thedesperation in my voice surprised me. “Hell, if it’ll put that crap to rest,why not.” I tackled my own belt.”

“Let’s go to my room, youknow, in case my folks come home unexpectedly.”

“What?” Now there was panic inmy tone. I hadn’t realized my voice was so expressive.

“Just a precaution. They nevercome back before nine or ten. They play bridge with my aunt and uncle.”

He rose and strode to hisroom, me following like a puppy dog. As soon as the door closed behind us, hisbelt was undone and his fly popped. Then he hesitated, waiting for me, I guess.

So I tackled my trousers,feeling foolish when they fell around my ankles. His did too.

“Now the underwear,” he said,rolling down his jockeys.

I flid down my boxers, andthey joined my trousers on the floor. I stood with my mouth open as he steppedout of his clothes. Gossip was accurate. Neil was well-endowed.

“Tom,” he said, “Congratulations.You’re carrying more’n I thought.”

“Uh… thanks.” Not knowing whatelse to do, I grabbed for my britches.

“Wait. I want a better look.It seems to be growing.”

If possible, my cheeks turnedrosier… all four of them. It was true, my thing started rising like it was huntingfor something. I got even more flustered when his did too. And it was swellingup a whole lot faster than mine. It finally dawned on me we were standingbare-assed staring at one another’s bone.

“Impressive,” he noted. “Wannatouch.”

“I-I guess.” Had my gulp beenas loud to him as it sounded to me?

My knees almost gave way whenhis fist closed around me. He twisted sideways, presenting himself, and Igrabbed on like clutching for a lifeline. Wow! Hard and warm and throbbing.

He turned me loose to shrugout of his tank top before pulling me down on the bed with him. Wow! What abuild. Wow? Was I reduced to a blubbering idiot only capable of wows? No. Hewas magnificent. Didn’t know they made chests for eighteen-year-old boys thatrippled like that. The pecs were hard slabs; aureoles big and brown and…strangely unsettling. Made me want to touch one. So I did.

“Ahhh,” he purred, putting ahand behind my head and pulling me to him. My lips sorta fastened on like I wasthree months old and started sucking.

“Ahhh,” he said again, adding,“Tom.”

I switched to the other onewithout being asked.

“Ohhh, that gets to me,” hemumbled. He sounded discombobulated, as well, and that gave me some confidence.I put a hand to his abs and had the thought everything this guy possessed washard as a rock.

Neil lay back on his pillows andlet me root around for a moment before grabbing my head in his hands, centeredit where he wanted and pulled me to him. Can’t say I was exactly surprised—givenwhat had gone on before—but I was kinda shocked at what I experienced. Wasn’tdisgust or revulsion It was more like a thrill that it was me giving thisgreat-looking guy what he wanted. So I set to work making it as good for him asI could.

He panted hard and moaned andtwitched now and then until he finally let out a gasp and called out.

Oh! Tommy… Tommy!

How about that? I’d gone fromTommy to Tom and back to Tommy in the span of a single evening. But you knowwhat? I didn’t mind his “Tommy” this time. Not at all.

 

*.*.*.*.

Tuned out to bequite a tutoring session, didn’t it? But seemed to me like the wrong guy didthe tutoring. Depends upon the subject matter, I guess. Wonder if they’ll endup as roommates at State?

 

My new anthology,Huntinghawk,was released in February as an Ebook by JMS Books with theprint version to follow soon. Hope you’ll give it a read.

 

My contactinformation is provided below in case anyone wants to drop me a line:

Website and blog: markwildyr.com

Email:markwildyr@aol.com

Facebook:www.facebook.com/mark.wildyr

X: @markwildyr

 

Now mymantra: Keep on reading. Keep on writing.You have something to say, so say it! 

 

See you later.

 

 

Mark

 

New posts first and third Thursday of the month at 6:00a.m., US Mountain time.