Tristan's Tale

The first time I knew I was gay. - Tristan

He wrote it down, sent it to me, and I polished and puffed it up for him. - Ray

It started with an accident.

Darren and I were really good friends. Best friends. We had known each other since kindergarten. We both had worn Hulk shirts that first day, and that led to talking about the Hulk, and we just became friends. We both had other friends, too, but we were close. There wasn't a lot of guys our age around. We lived in a really small town in Indiana, called Milton. Nothing there and not much to do.

We took karate together. Played on the little league baseball team together, and made bad movies together in my backyard. My house backed on some woods, so we ran around in there, playing war, or one of us being the bad guy and the other the Hulk, or ninjas, or cops and robbers. We made movies there, too.

We'd done all the usual things boys do, and by twelve, we'd started beating-off. By thirteen, we'd shown each other our parts more than once, especially once they started growing bigger. By fourteen, we'd shown our boners to each other. Weeks ago, we had bragged about how we could shoot now, and even jerked-off in front of each other a couple of times lately.

I was noticing something about myself. Darren and I both were noticing the girls. Thing was, I was also noticing the boys. Including Darren.

We both had our red belts in Karate. That meant that we were doing really well. All the karate practice we'd done together through the years, I sort of started noticing his body in a different way when we were thirteen. His legs were interesting, his arms were interesting, his chest, his face, his smile, his eyes, his hair, and of course, his butt and his parts. I started liking grappling more than kicks and punches. I liked touching and wrestling with him. It made me feel sexual. I got erections. I badly wanted to grab his crotch.

Sometimes I wrestled or practiced karate with other guys. I noticed them, too. I started being sure that I was going to be gay. I wasn't nearly as interested in girls as I was the guys. When I jerked-off, I started thinking about doing stuff with guys. At first, I just did it, not thinking much, just liking doing it. But when I found out I could fantasize about doing stuff with guys, it got better. Way better.

At fourteen, I was thinking about Darren a lot. Especially when I masturbated.

The last time we had done something sexual had been weeks ago. I was always trying to lead things that way, but being really careful about it. It didn't always work. But just after school was out for the summer, we'd seen a couple doing it in the park as we walked home one night. We sneaked up and watched from behind bushes. It was really exciting! When they finished, we sneaked away and giggled all the way to my place. He was staying over. We went to my room, and ended up talking about what we had seen, and before long, we were beating-off on the bed next to each other. Not the first time. I loved doing that.

We always kept our pants on, just unzipped and pulled out out dicks and did it. When we started jizzing, we wiped it off with Kleenex and then watched television or listened to music or something.

During school break, before we started high school, Darren and I were messing around, practicing Karate in my back yard. It was really hot, so we were both wearing shorts and t-shirts. That day, he was wearing camouflage shorts that were sort of swimming trunks, and a green t-shirt. They were small, so they were tight, too. And his body showed through. His legs were getting really strong, and his butt was getting really juicy, and his package was getting really nice.

So we were sparring, not very seriously, more messing around. We ended up with him chasing me into the trees, threatening to pin me and make me eat dirt. I got ahead of him and ducked around a huge tree and hid there. He went past me, and I went back the way we had come. I was going to sit on a deck chair and wait for him to give up and come back, and make a big deal about how bad a tracker he was.

I was almost back to the house, and could even see it through the trees, when I heard him yell, "Bonzai!" I turned around really quick, bringing up my right leg and arm in a guarding motion, expecting a blow to my back. He had jumped to land on my back, I guess. He was in the air as I turned. He came down, almost on me, but his groin came down on my upraised knee.

It was hilarious! He had this huge grin as he came down at me, then he hit his junk on my knee, then his grin snapped into an open-mouthed gasp in a split-second. I let my leg and arm drop as he went down on his knees with a loud, long, low groan, holding his crotch.

"You okay?" I asked.

"Oh... no... oh..."

He curled up over his groin, kneeling, his forehead on the ground, holding himself.

"You okay?" I asked again.

"No..."

I could tell from his voice that he wasn't. I went down on my knee and put my hand on his back and asked again.

"Nailed 'em," he groaned, still curled up tight.

"Bad?"

"Fuck, yes."

He could barely talk or breathe. He coughed a couple of times and fell on his side, still curled up. Now I could see his face. I'd never seen him look like he was in so much pain! He sort of panted, but raggedly, groaning and gasping.

I felt awful. I didn't mean to hurt him, and especially not there. His were bigger than mine, I knew. My dick was longer, but he had nice, big nuts. They even hung down further than mine. I hadn't seen them for over a month now. That had been when he had dropped his pants to change into swimming trunks to go swimming. I'd even said how big they were, and he had sort of held them up and smiled. I'd gotten hard, and was glad I'd already had my trunks on and my towel to hold in front of myself.

"Gonna be okay?"

"No," he groaned, still curled up tightly.

"Dude. Serious. It wasn't that hard a hit."

"Was when you're the one coming down."

He had a point. I sat there, feeling bad, hoping he wasn't going to get revenge. It'd been an accident. Finally, he made to get up. He moved really slowly, groaning.

"Bad?" I asked again.

He held his groin and stayed mostly bent over. He nodded.

"I think you busted 'em."

I laughed. He didn't. He looked up. His face was red, darkly red, and I was sure had tears in his eyes.

"Sorry," I said.

He groaned, then started walking to the house. I walked along beside him. He limped and moved really slowly. He was favoring his hands, too.

"Hurt your hands?"

"Yeah, when I hit the dirt. Didn't know to grab my goods or break my fall. Sort of landed bad on 'em. Think I sprained the wrists."

"Need some ice?"

"No." Then, "Yeah. Maybe. Don't know."

We got to the house and went inside.

"Ice?" I asked as I closed the door behind us.

"Sure."

He went to the stools by the snack bar. I got an empty bread sack and put some ice cubes in it When I turned around, he was taking his trunks down. I almost forgot to walk. He dropped his shorts, having a little trouble because he had hurt his wrists. I hadn't seen him that naked for a long time. I felt my dick growing hard as I got close enough to hold out the bread-sack of ice cubes. He was bent over, looking at his junk, poking his nuts with a finger and hissing.

I stood there, not moving, not making a sound, looking at his finger gently poking at his nuts. His other hand was holding his dick to the side. I felt my dick go fully hard. I sort of held the ice-filled bread sack in front of my own groin, hopefully hiding my boner. I kept watching as he really carefully moved his nut, then let go of it, then moved the other one just as gently. He hissed his breath and it caught a couple of times. He let go of his dick and it fell in front of his sack.

"Hands bad?"

"Nah. Nothin' like my nuts!"

He laughed a little. He straightened up. He saw the bread sack, then really carefully, sat down, and took it from me. He had trouble handling it, but placed it on top of his groin and grimaced again.

"Not the right way," I said.

"Huh?"

"Put the ice on your sack, not on your dork."

"Oh."

He moved it lower. It obviously hurt some. He adjusted the ice again. He groaned. He kept his wrists on the top of the ice.

"Hurt bad?"

"Man. Sorta numb now."

"Hand or nuts?"

"My nuts. The wrists are sorta sprung, is all."

"Your nuts numb from the ice? Already?"

"No. Before."

I didn't think that was a good sign. I got worried.

"They seem swollen?"

"Yeah."

"Bad?"

"Fuck, yeah."

I remembered Jared Watkins. He'd gotten kicked in the jewels in karate a while back. He'd had to go to the hospital. They both got swollen, one more than the other, and there'd been worries for a while that he would be sterile.

I saw that he was thinking of that, too.

"He said they went numb right after," he said, now looking worried.

"Yeah," I said.

"Check online?" he asked.

"Sure."

We headed to my room. It was slow going. He could barely walk, and even being as careful as he was, it was obviously painful. I started my computer and we checked online for articles and such about injuries to testicles. There were plenty. Some weren't helpful at all, but a couple of places were medical sites, and a couple were sports sites. They were helpful.

They agreed that swelling was not a good sign, but didn't have to be a bad sign. Discoloration was. He lifted the ice. His sack was reddish-pink, about the same color as I remembered. Not dark, not dark red, not purple. It said to examine the scrotum closely for bruising. He leaned down and moved his balls around.

"Hard to tell. Tris, you gotta do me a favor."

From his expression, I could tell it was a big favor. I suspected.