Tomboy

TomboyI’m a little old to be banished to summer camp,” I said toSpike. Spike was my best friend, had been since I was eight. “I mean,I’m fifteen.” I was sitting on a branch in an old apple tree, the lastone in the orchard. I had my back propped against the tree trunk. Shewas lying on the branch below me. Spike said, “Wish my folks would send me to camp, Kip.” Herreal name was Danica, but I never called her that, just like she nevercalled me Clifford. “Yeah,” I said. “Right.” “No, really. First of all, you’re gonna be doing canoeing andshit. That’s like free training.” “Training?” “You know, for the Olympics.” Spike was a natural athlete, notlike me. I was a two-left-feet guy, and no team would have me. Spikeoccasionally talked about trying pro sports, but usually she came backto her other dream, being a mechanic on Formula Ones. “They wouldn’tsend me, though. They’d be afraid it would just make me worse.” “You go instead of me.” I banged my head gently against thetree trunk, making the leaves rustle. “Maybe we could just send you onthe bus and you could say you were me.” “They’d notice in the shower. And when I got my period.” I stared at her. “I didn’t know you got your period already.”To be honest, I never thought of Spike as a _girl._ She imitated me: “I’m fifteen, for Christ’s sake,” and shereached up to whack my foot. “I wish you were coming. I’m not gonna know _anybody_ there. Iwish I knew why my parents are doing this.” She said, “It’s obvious, Kip. They think you’re weird. Youspend most of your time reading, and the rest of your time you spendwith a psychotic tomboy.” She said it like she was proud of being one.Spike was all limbs and joints, about as feminine as a plank. She kepther black hair short and she had an oval face with a long jaw. Shedidn’t look particularly like she was a guy or a girl. “They want tomake you normal.” “Great,” I moaned. “Look, your folks aren’t exactly thrilled about me.” “They don’t mind you.” She snorted. “They think I’m an unhealthy influence. Yourdad’s not a reading kind of guy, you know? He’s probably worried I’m adyke and I’ll turn you into a fag.” She plucked at her T-shirt.Today’s was Motorhead. “What’s a dyke?” She dropped off the tree, agile as an ape. “It’s what a Dutchboy sticks his finger in.” She picked a green apple off the ground andshied it at me. It stung me on the shoulder. “A lesbian! Don’t be aknob.” “I’m not a knob,” I said. “You’re a knob.” She hit me threemore times before I got down from the tree, but I managed to drag herdown to the ground and we wrestled a while before we both startedlaughing. ~~~~Camp turned out to be okay; we spent a lot of time talkingabout the girls’ camp down the lake (you know, who was cutest, and didshe look at me when we had that intercamp competition, and which oneskissed and which ones did more). I figured out jerking off, thoughthere was almost never a chance to do it. This two months was prettygreat, I had to admit.I sent Spike a couple of letters while I was at camp — when Iwon the across-the-lake race, for instance, and when I was buca escort cominghome, the week before school. I told her I’d meet her at the tree theday I got home. ~~~~The tree was gone and the field was torn up. There was a signthere that said a medical center was going to be built there. I waitedon the bare dirt as night fell, getting that sick abandoned feeling inmy gut, but she didn’t show. Finally, after dark, I left the emptyfield and rode my bike to her place. Her folks’ car was out and herbike was still in her garage, so I locked mine to it and went aroundback to her room. Her curtains were drawn but there was a light on. Iknocked at her window. “Hey,” I hissed. “Spike!” I saw the shadow of her head behind the d****s. “Go away,Kip.” “Why?” “I don’t want you to see me.” “Why not?” I repeated, feeling foolish. “‘Cause I look stupid.” “Stupider than the time you tried to become a blonde?” “Way.” I whistled. “That’s pretty stupid.” “Thanks heaps. Go away. My life is ruined.” “What is it?” She didn’t say anything, but she hadn’t movedaway; I still saw the shadow of her head. “I promise not to laugh.” I heard her sigh. “I guess you’ll know sooner or later. Comeon in.” She reached around the d****s and unhooked the screen. It onlytook me a moment to shinny in and flop on the floor. Funny thing: thewindow seemed smaller than it used to. Spike was wearing cutoff jeans, a T-shirt…and a bra. And thebra she was wearing was not a training bra, like my sister had wornfor almost a year, but some kind of sturdy engineering marvel. It wasobvious, even to me: Spike had big tits. There were other changes, too. Her hips had flared out, herwaist pinched in, she had fleshed out and rounded and generally becomea woman. I kept staring at her tits. “Jesus,” she said miserably, “not you too.” I looked at herface and it was all scrunched up like she was trying not to cry. Shesat on the edge of her bed and put her face in her hands. “I’m sorry.” I went to grab her and then I stopped, because,well, Spike had turned into a girl, and my hesitation made her moremiserable and she actually started to cry. I had never seen her cryand that made _me_ feel miserable. So I grabbed her anyway and itturned into a hug, her clutching me and me clutching her. She evensmelled different, more perfumey. “Kip, it’s awful. Everybody stares at me and then the sameguys who used to be afraid I’d beat them up come up to me and theylook at my chest and they don’t say anything except ‘Duh…’ and _I_can’t_even_ run_ because they _hurt_ when I run and they’re stillgrowing so fast I can’t even buy a sports bra.” I could feel her tits pressing against me under that canvas-like material or whatever they make those industrial strength brasfrom. Her tits felt hot and soft against my chest. I already had aboner. “They’re still growing?” I asked. My voice squeaked. “I hopethey don’t explode.” She leaned back and actually smiled a bit. “Don’t be a knob.””I’m not a knob. You’re a knob.” I pushed her (carefully, atthe shoulder) and she pushed me back buca escort bayan harder, so I pushed her again andshe fell over and she grabbed at me as if we were going to wrestle buther hand closed on my boner. We both froze. My face got hot. “Kip?” she said. “Sorry,” I said. “I guess…I guess I better go.” “Yeah,” she said. And then: “No. Kip, what’s happening to us?” “I don’t know. I guess we’re growing up.” “I don’t want to grow up like this. ‘Cause if you won’t hangout with me we’ll never see each other and I’ll end up becoming asimpering giggling empty-headed _girl._” I didn’t see the logic, but I didn’t think this was the timeto argue about that. “What can we do?” “We gotta keep seeing each other,” she said. “We gotta learnto deal with each other anyway. You know, adapt.” I nodded. My throat was dry. “Adapt.” Her hand was still tighton my crotch. She squeezed it slightly and sat up straighter. “Can I see it?””Uh,” I said. I mean, Spike and I had been naked together abunch of times when we were eight and nine but this was different. Onthe other hand, it was Spike. “I guess,” I said. I reached for my flyand then stopped. “Your folks?” She shook her head. “They’ve gone to visit my aunt in Preston.They won’t be back until tomorrow.” “Oh.” I unzipped my fly but my cock was down my leg and Icouldn’t get it out of my jeans without either taking my jeans off orhurting myself. Here was an excuse to stop, I told myself. “Well?” she said. Before I could say anything, she peeled upher T-shirt and sat there in that heavy white bra. “To be fair,” sheexplained. I’d seen more skin at the lake and managed not to embarrassmyself, but this was a bra, it was lingerie: she was a stacked womanin honest-to-god lingerie. I could feel my heartbeat not only in mychest but all along the length of my cock. I tried to swallow but I couldn’t because of the big lump inmy throat. “I gotta take off my pants,” I said. Then I said, “So do you.” She thought about it for a moment, and then said, “Okay.” Weboth stood up facing each other. She undid the button on her cutoffsand eased them over her ass, dropping them to the floor. She steppedout of them and kicked them under the bed. Her underpants were peach,with flowers on them. They would have looked very out of place on theold Spike; I had no idea if they suited the new Spike. We were makingup new rules. “Now you,” she said. I undid the button on my jeans and myjeans didn’t fall until I gave them a shove. My wallet made a thump asit landed on the floor. I went to step out of them, like Spike had, butmy feet got tangled, and I had to grab her shoulder for support. Shegrabbed me back. Her shoulder was smooth and hot, and the strap of herbra felt a mile wide under my palm. I pulled up my foot and turned theleg of my jeans inside out. “What a knob,” she said, but there wasn’t any annoyance in it.She knelt down in front of me, her face only inches from where my cockwas making a circus tent of my white cotton jockey shorts, and pulledmy jeans from my feet. I had gooseflesh all escort buca along my legs. She ran herhands up the outsides of my thighs and rested them on my hips. “Go ahead,” I told her. “Take off my…” I couldn’t quite say”underpants” or “shorts.” I wished I was wearing something sexy. Iwished I were a hunk. I thought maybe she’d hesitate, but not Spike. “Okay.” Shegrabbed the waistband and pulled straight out and then delicately un-covered my hard-on. She’d caught her lower lip between her teeth andI heard her suck in her breath. Then I blushed because I’d thought theword “suck.” Finally, she said, “Cool.” That was so old-Spike that I relaxedand my cock bounced a bit. She grabbed it and I started like whenyou’re really into a book and someone interrupts you. She looked up atme, sort of bewildered. “Sorry. Did that hurt?” “No, I was just…” She rubbed her hand along the length, thenstarted to pull it in different directions, testing how stiff it was.Her hand slipped to the end of my cock, making the head hard and purpleand smooth, then slid back to the base, touching my sparse blond pubichairs. It felt great. “It feels neat,” she said. “It feels hot.” “Your hand’s cold.” “Oh,” she said, and then, “I’ll warm it up,” and she breathedon my cock, short hot breaths, like she was panting. Like she’d run amile or…or something. My balls tightened. I could feel myself gettingready to come. I tried not to clench my butt. “I like how you smell,”she told me. “Uh, Spike?” I really didn’t want to come in front of her. “Your balls are really neat. Kinda–compact.” She traced herfingers along my balls. “How do you sit down without hurting yourself?”Her other hand slid over the head of my cock and she stroked the under-side with her thumb, smearing something wet. “Spike, I’m gonna–” She started moving her hand faster, and I groaned as I came. Ashot of jism hit her hair beside her ear and she watched, fascinated,as I shot a second and third which hit her shoulder and breast. Shekept pumping my cock and squeezed out a bit more, which ran over herfingers. “_Very_ neat.” She opened her hand, and looked at my comesmeared across her fingers. “Well, messy.” She chuckled and sucked oneknuckle clean. “It tastes okay.” “Spike!” “Well, it’s not gross. I read some women think it’s gross.” My cock was softening. She took it between her thumb and fore-finger and leaned forward with her mouth open; just as I could feel herbreath on it again, she looked up at me and said, “You don’t mind, doyou, Kip?” She looked very serious and I suddenly wondered if I didmind. I know that sounds stupid. I mean, I was looking forward tothe first time I ever really fucked a girl and all that, but I neverthought it would be _Spike._ Spike was something permanent in my life,and I thought our friendship would never change. But it had. Spike hadjust become something, someone, totally different and I didn’t knowwhat and I didn’t know what was allowed between us. It had become different the moment she grew tits, though Ihadn’t known about it. I killed the chance for it to go back to whatit was when I came through the window. All we could do was somethingnew, and hope we liked it as much. I touched her mouth with my fingertip. Her lips were soft andwarm and wet. I wondered what it was going to be like kissing her.”Don’t be a knob,” I told her.