It Started With a Kiss

by Kiwi

Part 1

It started with a kiss. Right smack on the lips, he kissed him. It wasn't a long passionate clinch, just a brief peck really, but it was a kiss and it was on the lips. Then, this old guy and the kid just stood there, arms around each other, murmuring. I couldn't hear what they were saying, I was too far away.

I couldn't hear them, but I could see them there, looking down from my bedroom window. They were standing next to the pool in the back-yard of the Hollister house, just holding each other where all the world could see them. Well, I could anyway. I couldn't believe my eyes.

Wow! Things were never this interesting when the Hollisters lived next-door. Was this some Sugar Daddy moving in there with his teenage boyfriend? No. It couldn't be. Not in our quiet little neighbourhood in our quiet little town. But - he kissed him!

Then, the next thing I saw was just about as unbelievable. The kid stepped away from the man, still talking, he went over to the swimming pool, (Old Man Hollister's pride and joy), and he dropped backwards into the water! I mean, it was a hot day and everything, but, come on!

He had all his clothes on, shoes even - well, sneakers, I saw them sink into the water. The water closed over him, the splashed waves sloshed back and forth, and the kid didn't come up!

The old guy wasn't phased at all. He just shook his head, waved and walked away, back into the empty house. And the kid still didn't come up!

What the hell was going on there? Was I standing watching a suicide or something? Surely not. Things like that just did not happen around here. But, where was he? What was he doing in there?

After several of the longest minutes of my young life, the waters parted again as the skinny kid pulled himself up out of the pool. He shook the water out of his long hair, knelt and took his sneakers and socks off. ('Now, he takes them off!') Then, shoes in hand, he padded barefoot into the house.

Wow. I'd get shot if I did that. Mum would have a conniption fit. Not that we had a pool anyway, but I wished that we did. On a hot day like this, a pool would be cool.

"Hey! I'm a poet - I know it."

I stood there for a few minutes, looking down at the empty yard next door, in shock almost. Wow! Yeah, I know - nosy neighbour peeping out of the window, but - wow! I was intrigued. I knew that I should be getting back to my homework, but English was boring and the new neighbours were fascinating.

Neighbours? Were they? I ran downstairs and out into the street, just in time to see a big dark-blue car back out of the Hollister's driveway and speed away. I couldn't really see the people in it - just two heads.

I went along the sidewalk to check-out the For Sale sign out the front. Sure enough, it was still there, as it had been for weeks, but it now had a big yellow 'Sold' sticker angled across it. Great! We did have new neighbours then. This was going to be so cool, much better than the grumpy old Hollisters scowling at me every time I breathed the air around their precious house.

It was a great old house too. There weren't many two-storied houses in our town, but ours and the Hollisters' both were, two-storied and weather-boarded, and theirs was much bigger. Our house had four bedrooms, theirs had to have eight, at least.

It also had a great outdoor entertainment area - patio, the brick barbecue and the pool. It even had a private tennis court. Not that Ma and Pa Hollister ever used them - they just cleaned them, constantly, and scowled at any potential mess-makers they saw, like me!

Good riddance to them anyway. I hoped that they liked it in their old-fogy's retirement home. Life was going to be much more interesting around here. Maybe I'd get to watch gay orgies from my window?

I couldn't wait, but I had to. That was Tuesday and nothing else happened. Nor on Wednesday, or on Thursday. The old house remained quiet and empty as it had been for weeks now.

On Friday, walking home from school, I was talking about the new neighbours, (again!), with my mate, Chalky White. We came around the corner into our street and there it was - the Hollister house, still quiet and empty, nothing happening except the grass growing. Old Man Hollister would have a fit if he saw how long it was getting.

Chalky stopped and looked at the house. He sighed and turned to look at me. "Still nothing. You know, Davey, I'm starting to think that you made the whole thing up. Either that or you dreamt it. Gayboys kissing people and diving into the pool with their clothes on - sounds like wishful thinking to me."

"I did not! I'm telling you, Man. I know what I saw. Anyway, there's the sold sticker on the sign. How do you explain that if I dreamt it?"

"Yeah. Okay. Maybe. If someone's bought it, they'll have to turn up eventually, I suppose. Then we'll see."

"So. You want to come up to my room for a while? I'll show you - we could act it out."

"Act it out?" he grinned. "No. Much as I'd like to, I can't. I'd better get home, Mum will be waiting to go to town. I need new sports gear. I'll see you tomorrow. We could maybe act it out then."

"Okay, I'll look forward to that. See you then, Chalky."

"'Kay. Me too. Bye Davey, and ring me if anything interesting happens."

We knocked the backs of our hands together in our usual gesture, which is supposed to be instead of a hug in the street, and we parted for the day. Chalky ran home to go shopping with his mum and I went up to my window to watch and wait.

First though, I stood and watched as he ran off to his home a few doors down the street. Chalky White, my oldest and closest friend. There was certainly no-one else who played games with me, up in my room, like Chalky did. Well, my brother, Bruce, did sometimes - but that's another story.

David White, same first name as me, David Coddington, but I get Davey and he gets Chalky. Stupid name really. I mean, his name is White and he's got blond hair, darker now than it used to be, but Chalky sounds like someone tall, skinny and fragile, and he's not. Well, he was, sort-of, tall and skinny, but he's not fragile, anything but. Chalky had to be the strongest, fittest kid in our class, Year 11, and he had the makings of a real jock when he fills out a bit. The girls all thought that he was hot. So did I.

We'd known each other for, like forever. We grew up together, started school together, and we did all the things that little boys do together - and more! It had started years ago with, "I'll show you mine if you'll show me yours", and it had progressed from there - touching, wanking, sucking, when we heard about that, and lately, all the way to fucking.

It was great, lots of fun, but there was something missing. I wanted something more. I wanted affection. Something like that kid next-door.

Chalky would suck my dick, when he was in the mood, but he'd never kiss me and he wouldn't let me kiss him either. Kissing was gay as far as he was concerned. Like everything else we did wasn't?

I wasn't allowed to fuck him either. I was allowed to suck him off, but he did the fucking, I always had to be the bottom. Ah well, there was always Bruce, but I didn't want to kiss him - he's my brother, my fucking brother.

I wandered upstairs and settled down with my homework, in a chair by the window. Stupid move really. I couldn't concentrate on the book and kept checking on the house next door.

Nothing was happening, but I had to keep checking, just in case. I gave up and went downstairs to see what Mum had to eat.

"You can have an apple, nothing else. Wait for your dinner."

I played some games with my brother, (On the playstation!), ate, watched some TV and went to bed early, with a book. What an exciting life I led.

As a result of my early night, I was awake far too early in the morning and I couldn't get back to sleep. I didn't want to you-know-what, in case Chalky came around later, so I got up, got dressed and went out for a run before it got too hot.

Didn't work though. By the time I got out to the tiphead, I was sweating like a pig. Coming back, I took a shortcut through the town's central park and stopped by the kid's paddling pool.

I stood, sweating and panting, looking at the shallow, concrete-lined pool, and I thought, 'Why not?' I sat down on the low wall, turned back-on to the water and dropped in backwards.

The water was cool. It was bloody cold actually, but it was shallow and just barely deep enough to cover me as I lay there on my back. I kept my shoes up out of the water, I'm not completely stupid.

Then a horrible thought struck me. I could remember standing on the edge of this pool, with Chalky, pants down around our knees as we competed to see who could piss the furtherest out into the water. Did kids still do that? I bloody hoped not!

I struggled up out of the water as fast as I could, while still keeping my shoes dry, and then I ran off home for a shower, which suddenly seemed like a good idea.

I heard them before I saw them. As soon as I rounded the corner into our street I could hear loud music coming from the Hollister house - really loud. It was rock and roll music, I thought. Some jivy song that I'd never heard before - clanging guitars and a singer chorusing, "Now Junior, Behave yourself!" Did I mention that it was loud?

The old guy that I'd seen the other day was outside in the driveway, unloading stuff from his blue car. He didn't have the suit on today, but he was still dressed in blue - jeans and long-sleeved shirt. Blue must be his colour.

He was still wearing the gold-rimmed glasses and his thinning blond hair was all messed- up. In manual working mode, obviously.

I don't think that he saw me watching him, didn't acknowledge me anyway. He just walked away into the garage with his golf clubs. Close-up, he looked to be about 35 to 40, somewhere around my dad's age. Old anyway.

There was no sign of the kid, not out the front anyway, so I ran up to my room to check out the back-yard from my window. Bruce was in there, his tongue practically hanging out as he stared out the window.

"Hey! What are you doing in my room, you little shit?"

"Hey, Davey. Come and look at this."

"This is my room and my window. Bugger off, Bruce."

"Come on, Bro, don't be mean. I can't see anything from my window. There's new people next-door. They've got kids too - kids everywhere, come and look."

I went to the window and shoved him out of the way.

He squawked, "Yuck! You're all wet. What happened? Piss yourself?"

"Shaddup, Bruce. Move over."

He was right. There were kids everywhere. Five that I could see and more inside the house. The old Hollister place had never looked so alive and busy. All of the windows and doors were open and people were coming and going everywhere.

The music was still going but, thankfully, they'd turned it down a bit. It was coming from a speaker hanging out of an upstairs window. It was not just sitting on the ledge, but actually hanging out - swinging by the wall on its cable.

There were two girls, sitting on recliners, on the patio by the pool. They were both blondes. The one sitting up had short blonde hair under the cap on her head, and the one lying down had long hair - right down to her boobs. They were stunners! Both of them, but especially the lying-down one. (I'm talking about the girls here, not the boobs).

She had tight, white shorts and a blue/white striped halter top on. Bare feet and long, long, golden-tanned legs. Wow! What a looker. She was stunning, like something you'd see in the movies.

They looked like teenagers, but older than me by a couple of years. They were probably about 17 or so.

If I was straight, which I'm not, I'd be right into something like that. Bruce obviously was. Maybe he's not gay after all? Chalky had to see this! Wow, he'd be so jealous. He's never going to want to go home now, and it's my view. Where was that kid?

I couldn't see the kissing-swimming boy anywhere. Maybe he was back in the water, sitting on the bottom of the pool?

There were plenty of others coming and going, nobody was sitting still except for the two girls by the pool and a boy and a girl, about 14 or so, sitting up in the doorway of the old treehouse in the elm tree.

No-one had been up there for years, not since old Ma Hollister caught us up there and chased us away home. I think that they built it when their kids were little - about 100 years ago. It looked like it would be getting plenty of use now.

Another boy, younger and blond-haired, was trying to get up there but the redheads were dropping leaves and stuff on him to drive him away.

Two little boys, about 8 or 9ish, were playing with a ball on the tennis court. They didn't have any racquets, just a ball going back and forth.

Another boy, a big one, and a little fat one, and two really little girls were bringing empty boxes and stuff out of the back-door, and dropping them on the patio.

A woman, blonde but old and faded and a bit overweight, came out of the door and yelled at the kids up in the tree. Yeah, she must be the mother. Sounds like a mother.

She said something to the girls by the pool and they got up and followed her inside. My! That long-haired girl really was fine!

All my hopes and dreams of gay orgies faded away. This was obviously a family, a huge family. They'll be much more fun than the Hollisters anyway. But where was that kid? He couldn't be in the pool - he would drowned by then.

Maybe he wasn't part of them? Maybe he won't be living there. He might be just the old man's boyfriend, his secret boyfriend, and maybe he came around the other night to have a look at where his Sugar Daddy will be living?

Bruce interrupted my new fantasy by saying, "You'd better have a shower, Davey. You stink of chlorine or something. I'm going down to meet them. There must be a kid my age there somewhere."

He left. I smelled my damp shirt. He was right, something ponged. What do they put in that water? No, I didn't want to know. I was going to shower, but first I had to ring Chalky. Next-door was interesting all right, even without that kid.