Nick's Black Spark

That spring and summer Nick made a long-distance runner of me, among other things. He was so smart, and taught me so much stuff about strength-training and eating right. We wrestled all the time. He basically gave me a private clinic. And when we were practicing it was all business, no nookie. But that always came later. I went through a final growth-spurt, put on four inches of height and nearly twenty pounds of muscle. By summer's end my boner was as big as Nick's. He liked that a lot.

Nick taught how to make love to a man as a man. He'd talk me through how to suck a cock (“lick my shaft”, “don't be afraid to really squeeze my nuts!”, “it feels really great when you stick the tip of your tongue in the pee-hole”) , how to insert my cock in an ass and not hurt too much. At first I was reluctant to eat his ass, but one time when I was sucking him he spread his legs wide apart. “Don't be a wimp. Lick it! You know how good it feels!” Indeed I did. And suddenly hole looked so pretty, and I ended up just eating and fingering him for like twenty minutes. He whimpered like a puppy the whole time, until he said “I really need you to fuck me!”

We messed around several times a week, both on our own and with several other members of a secret brotherhood he called “spark-plugs”, other boys with black sparks, which included not only other members of the wrestling team, but also a couple of football players, and guys I didn't know from Merrill, Rhinelander, Prentice, all over the area. A few came up from as far away as Milwaukee and Chicago. Some were definitely gay, but we were all athletes. There were several times when we'd have circle of five or six guys blowing, usually followed by chain fucks. At some point every every guy would suck and fuck every other guy. The room reeked of sweaty man-sex! Nick would usually call the tune. He'd always be wearing those gold-painted high-tops for these groups. He liked making home movies. He had lots of masks. We'd put them when we messed around, and Nick or somebody would run the camera. 'Sparks' or 'power' were always freely exchanged: we thought nothing about taking each others' loads. Between spark-plugs it was always all about trust. It had to be. I got fucked by a lot of guys, fucked a lot of guys, and must have had a pint of cum pumped up my hole that summer and another down my throat! But most of it was Nick's.

Nick liked to put on shows and to be entertained. When we had groups sometimes he dance in his briefs while we all we jerked each other. He'd gyrate his hips, putting his crotch in our faces. Then he'd get on all fours, finger his hole, and maybe play with a dildo. It would get us all worked up for the orgy that followed.

Nick had a real thing for these C-IN2 tighty-whities that pushed his package forward. He bought me some and made me put them on and dance for him, which was funny because I can't dance worth shit. At least I thought I couldn't. But when dancing for Nick, music just seemed to flow through my body like I never knew it too before (or have known it to since). I gyrated my pelvis front of his face, my hard dick trying to bust out of the pouch. He'd cup it with his hand, put his mouth over it and say “you smell so fine!” Then he stood up, and we rubbed our bulging packages against each other, looking down, forehead to forehead. This went on for at least five minutes. We made so much pre-cum that you could see the heads of our cocks through the cotton. My nuts felt like they were going to explode! Then Nick made me give him a lap dance. I got him so worked-up that he picked me up and fucked me against the wall!

Then there were the many cam sessions, where we'd suck, rim, and fuck for other hot boys all over the country and Europe. And they'd fuck for us, too. It was so hot!

But I think it was when we did stuff in public that I really became Nick's partner-in-crime! I think he knew I would be as turned on by the danger of it as much as he was. The first time was about a month after we first hooked-up and we were shopping at the AE outlet at the Wausau Center Mall. We went into the dressing room to try stuff on and he said “I was watching you look for clothes and you looked so cute and it got me so horny!” I looked over and he had a big tent sticking up in the camouflage cargo he always seemed to be wearing, even if it was freezing out. He was going commando, and when he undid them his big boner popped out. He spat on it and started stoking. I took my pants off and he came over and took my underpants off. Then he turned me around, lifted my leg, and just stuck it in. I grit my teeth, trying not to make any noise. There were other guys in other dressing rooms. If they'd looked down and saw our feet it would have been pretty obvious what we were doing. We both came real fast, in like a minute. Then we just continued trying on clothes.

Nick had a real good instinct for spotting other 'freaks', as he would call them. We'd be at the fountain in the mall discreetly checking out the hotties – only boys, never chicks. The fountain in the atrium was where boys who liked boys cruised each other or where they met the boys they'd been chatting or camming with on line. Nick'd say “I'll bet we can get that boy to play with us.” And then we'd go up and he'd just start chatting with them. He had this gift for talking to strangers without making it seem strange. We took several boys to obscure places in the mall – Nick'd scouted them all out long before – or to someplace he knew nearby and we'd fuck them, many for the first time. If they wanted to fuck us, that was fine too. A few went on to become regular spark-plugs. Nick especially loved picking up gay boys. “They're so grateful!” he'd say.

Once we where chatting-up this really cute gay boy sitting by the fountain. We weren't talking about anything in particular when Nick said “do you think my friend is cute?”

“Yeah, he's really cute!”

"He has a nice dick. Would you like to suck it?"

“He really likes to get fucked. Would you be into to fucking him?”

“Yeah!”

Then Nick turned to me: “babe, would you like this boy to fuck you?”

“Sure!” He was certainly hot enough, but I really wanted to do it because I knew it would get Nick off. We went to some deserted maintenance area on the mezzanine level, where there were lots of dumpsters near the freight elevators and went behind one. The other boy and I started kissing while Nick watched, his hand inside his camouflage cargo shorts, stroking. We got down to business real fast. He was pretty big downtown and it really hurt at first but the thinking of Nick watching and that some janitor or security guard might walk in on us made it incredibly hot. The boy sensed the urgency too, and fucked me really hard. It only took him a few minutes cum. As soon as he pulled out Nick went down on him and cleaned his cock off with a suck – Nick loved cocks that tasted like ass and cum. Then he licked some cum out of my ass and then fucked me, reaching around and stroking me off. By the time we were done, the gay boy had disappeared like a frightened dear. There was a big wad of my cum dripping down the side of the dumpster and this time we decided to just leave it there as a marker – usually Nick would lick it up. He hated seeing cum, or power as he liked to call it, go to waste. That summer we did lots of crazy shit like that.

Strangest of all however was that all this time Nick had a steady girlfriend with who he'd spend most nights. I only met her a couple of times, and when they were together he seemed really into her. I think he knew I was jealous so I think he made a point to keep us apart. He didn't like to mix-up different parts of his life – I met his mom only once and then only in passing. She worked and I don't think dad had been in the picture for some time. He often said he was a sex addict and needed it several times a day. At least a couple of times when I was eating his ass I'd taste the cum of another spark-plug who'd fucked him earlier that day. There were times when I was jealous these other guys too, but by then I was beginning to understand who Nick was and that he could never be entirely mine. While I had sex with a lot of guys that summer, I never did it when he wasn't around.

The night before Nick took-off for college twelve spark-plugs, including four brothers who came up from Chicago, gathered around a camp fire deep in the woods. Nick had set it up like a ritual. He was wearing a black mask with sparkles that only covered one eye, the golden high-tops, white tube socks with blue and red strips, and a jock. He never looked so sexy! We spent a good three hours fucking him, mostly while he was in a tire hanging from a tree, filling his ass and mouth with our sparks. He unloaded three times during the orgy, including once in my ass. He was getting fucked by some other guy and turned his head to me and said “I'm real close. Come take my load, babe!” He got up and as soon as he stuck it in he shot his spark, the last I would get from him. I was the last one to fuck him, and I swear I could hear the swish of all the cum in his hole with each thrust. When I pulled out after I came, my cock was covered with cum and streaks of Nick's blood. Nick kissed us all, but when he got to me, he added “you made this summer so special. I'm gonna miss your cute face and tight hole most of all!" and then "I will always love you, babe! Keep the sparks alive!” Then he just got dressed and went off to spend his last night with his girlfriend. That was the last time I saw him.

Nick had accepted a full scholarship to a university in the middle of nowhere that was trying to move its wrestling program up to Division I. About a two weeks after he left I found myself missing him terribly. I had fallen in love with him, only at sixteen I was still too young to appreciate the feeling for what it was. I sent him a long message on FB telling him how much I missed him and asking if I could come up for a weekend sometime soon. His reply was short: “you need to find another cute boy to be your babe and teach him our ways, just like I did with you. That's your mission, bro!” It ended with “btw you never want to come here. This place fuckin' sucks!” That was the last I heard from him. I sent texts, messages on FB, emails, never got a reply, and by November just gave up. Some nights I'd cry myself to sleep thinking about how much I missed him. I don't know if he came back for the holidays. If he did, he certainly didn't call me. He didn't show up for Homecoming, but then rah-rah was never his style. Nick had contempt for high-profile team sports, like football. He liked wrestling because it was “raw and primal. Just two guys going at it to show who's better. No fluff, no sparkles, and when you're out there on the mat not even teammates really. It goes back to the world before there were balls, when cavemen simply wanted pure competition . . . and the loser probably got fucked!”

I know things couldn't have gone well for him at that university. Officially, he had his first losing season ever, which he blamed on the poorly-run program, and decided to take a year off. Wrestling was Nick's religion, and loosing must have been very hard on him. However the rumor through the spark-plug grapevine was that he was involved in a rocky affair with another teammate who wanted to do more than an exchange sparks with him. He became known as the team's drama king. Supposedly the other guy disclosed the affair to the coach, and made it all seem like Nick's doing, and maybe it was – Nick had probably seduced him just like he had seduced me. Nick was dismissed from the team and lost his scholarship. My guess is that this is probably how it really went down because the last time I checked the team's web page they'd removed his name from their roster as well as all records of his matches. It was as if he'd never been there.

After Nick left, the spark-plugs of Tomahawk fell apart. I'm not charismatic like Nick, and I couldn't really keep the spark alive. Someone's always home at my place, so I can't host spark-plug parties, like Nick did. It seems we all have girlfriends now, including me. It's sweet, just as Nick said it was, though occasionally some of the old spark-plugs will get together and discreetly scratch that itch. But it's not the same. We just squirt and scram. Nick could get us to do anything.

For a time I'd go down to the mall and hang out by the fountain. I'd wear camouflage cargo shorts, just like Nick's. I'd see some cute boy sitting there, looking full of longing. I couldn't start talking to him like Nick would, but sometimes I could just tell – Nick taught me that lesson well – and I'd go up to him and say “do you want to take a walk?” If they said “sure” (and they usually did) I'd take him to one of the many secluded places I had come to know so well. We'd kiss, feel each other up, maybe swap sucks. I wouldn't even say “do you want to fuck me?” I'd just drop my shorts, turn my face to the wall, put up my hands and spread my legs, arch my back, and stick my butt out. They usually knew what to do next. I'd never ask their names and I didn't really want to know them. I preferred to imagine that they're Nick. But they weren't. You always knew when you were getting tapped by Nick: his cock was a magic wand! I haven't cruised the mall in many months and don't imagine I'll be doing it anytime soon. It reminds me too much of Nick.

I hear he's living with his old girlfriend in Madison, taking classes, and is hoping to wrestle for the Badgers next year. Someone told me he goes to Chicago to play with spark-plugs down there, but he never comes back to Tomahawk. Apparently he's in love with some gay guy named Michael. Actually, it sounds like his life is out of control. I should actually be glad he's out of mine. I've got a great future: an academic All-American. Even as a junior I have Ivies sending me stuff. But there are still many times I want to call Nick, tell him to meet me in some park down there where I'd be waiting for him, my pants hiked down below my knees, legs spread wide apart, hands against a tree, just so I can take his black spark just one more time. But I know he wouldn't pick up. I'm part of his past and Nick's a guy who doesn't look back.