SkinMarvin Gay Stories

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Chapter 2

Friday night couldn't come quick enough for David. He'd officially left school that afternoon, although he'd be back on Monday to start his exams, but he was no longer a schoolboy. He couldn't really enjoy his last day at school properly though, because he spent it trying to dodge the Barnes-Forbes Twins. When three o'clock came, David shot home to get ready to meet Buster.

"Where you off to tonight, love?" asked David's mother, sort of in passing. "The Brookes are coming over and Sharon's coming too."

"Aww, mum, I promised a mate that I'd go to his place for the evening."

"But you like Sharon." David knew that his mum would be happy to hear that he and Sharon were an item - what she didn't know was that they were in fact already good friends - they saw each other in school almost every day, after all. And besides, Sharon was already taken. By Rebecca. What his mother also didn't know was that David had wanked himself almost silly every night since he'd met Buster, such was the impression that the skinhead had made on the young lad.

"Aww, mum, I won't be here, sorry. I really promised this guy I'd go to his house."

"What guy? Who is he, do I know him?"

"No mum, he's just a mate from after school."

"Oh well," said his mother dejectedly, "OK then, just take care of yourself and don't be back too late, OK?"

"Will do, mum." With that David rushed up to his room and began to pick out what he'd wear to Busters. The Docs for sure. Probably a black tee shirt and a pair of jeans. Or a white tee shirt. No, the settee didn't seem that clean in Buster's place, the white one would get stained. Another thing he would do is trim his hair, number four as usual. David's dick started to rise. Time for a nice long shower.

Approaching seven o'clock, David knocked on the door of the three skinheads' flat. It was Nisbo who answered the door, "come in, mate, come ahead."

"Thanks, mate," said David, as he stepped gingerly inside.

"Hello, Dave," said Buster as he stepped out of the kitchen. "I'm cookin us some grub, will be with ya in a minute. Nisbo'll entertain ya."

Nisbo offered the young lad a can of Special Brew. David didn't drink, as he told Buster previously, but he didn't want to have to get into a discussion with Nisbo as they'd only just properly met, so he took the can and sipped at it gingerly. The smell of frying bacon wafted from the kitchen.

"So, Dave, Buster tells me you want to know more about being a skinhead..." began Nisbo looking at Dave square in the eyes. The latter shifted about a bit in his seat.

"Eh, well, yeah, I hope I'm not intruding on you both."

"Not at all mate, we're always happy to take questions from passing young schoolboys."

This last remark obviously was meant to put David more at his ease than he was feeling already and it worked. Just as young David's blood pressure was returning to normal and he was beginning to relax properly, (the two sips of Special Brew were taking effect), Buster came in from the kitchen with three plates of food, piled high with bacon, sausage, pudding, tomatoes, all piping hot with two fried eggs on top. A classic fry up and a far cry from the food that his mum cooked - all pastas and pulses with the odd bit of chicken thrown in for protein.

As they ate, Buster got David to tell the story of how they met again to Nisbo, and about the hiding he'd gotten from the Barnes-Forbes Twins.

"You know, Buster and I could sort those two out for you, mate. Would only take you to point us in the right direction as to where to fuckin find the bastards," offered Nisbo as David finished recounting his tale of woe.

"No, it's OK really, I'll never see them again after today hopefully - they don't do the same courses as me and they probably won't be in school when I do my exams, and they certainly haven't applied to the same university I have."

"University, eh? You didn't tell me he was a know-it-all too, Donkey Dick.." said Nisbo to Buster, jokingly. The glance that Buster shot to Nisbo was enough to say "never call me "Donkey Dick" in front of a young lad I just met a few days ago."

Seeing that David had obviously noticed the exchange, Buster broke the (short) silence, "look, mate, we're ain't only skinheads in this house, we're queer as well. You gotta know it, but we ain't goin to rape you mate, you've no worries." Nisbo looked at the floor, knowing it was his slip up that let the cat out of the bag, looking briefly up at David, he shrugged his shoulders. Buster looked at David, David shrugged his shoulders in the same manner that he'd seen Nisbo do a few seconds earlier. The tension broke.

"That's OK, I don't mind really I don't," said David. Inwardly he was doing backflips and winning Olympic gold. These people might really understand him, they might understand that it was the sight of a skinhead that made his dick point north, understand that everytime he got on the internet he surfed a whole bunch of sites looking for pictures of skinheads, understand that he loved wearing his Doc Martens above anything else and actually wore them more often than not while having a wank, understand that he just loved everything about skinheads. He went for it. "Actually, I might be a bit queer myself."

Buster and Nisbo both laughed out loud. "Tell us something we don't know, mate," laughed Buster.

"Oh my God. How do you know? I've literally never told anyone that ever before in my entire life," gasped David, his voice getting higher and higher, looking at the two skins as if they were mindreaders.

"Cos you LIKE skinheads. No fucker LIKES skinheads, not unless he wants to either be one or shag one. Buster and I just haven't worked out which fuckin applies in your case," said Nisbo, looking at the youngster intently.

"Well, it's true I do like skinheads but I don't know too much about them. I just like how they look."

"So do you want to shag one or be one, Dave?" asked Nisbo pointedly.

"Not sure I'm ready to shag anyone yet, Buster. I guess I've lead a protected life."

"Well if you don't want to shag one, do you want to become one? Do you want to become a skinhead, lad?" asked Buster, being as patient as he could.

"Hey, I reckon he does, Buster," said Nisbo matter-of-factly.

"I'm not sure about becoming one yet to be honest," began David, cautiously, "maybe after my exams and so on."

"Not sure about becoming one? Is that why you're wearing Docs, and have a crewcut then?" asked Nisbo, "Let's see those Docs anyway, how big are they?"

"They're size 9, and they're quite big, look," David pulled up the leg of his jeans to show off his ten-hole Doc Martens. The two skinheads looked at each other, knowing what each other was thinking. Nisbo left the room.

"So these fuckin exams of yours are puttin you off being a skinhead is that what you're tellin us, mate?" asked Buster.

"Not the exams, it's just I've always been a live-at-home guy, only child, never been in any trouble, average bloke, really, and I reckon my parents would be upset if I cut my hair shorter and so on."

"But you like the thoughts of being a skinhead, don't you?"

David had to admit that he did - it all came out at once. "I think about skinheads all the time Buster, it was so lucky for me that you met me the other day and when you brought me round here I thought I'd died and gone to heaven, honestly I did, and I couldn't believe you'd be interested to meet me again, and my heart's racing, Buster and I don't know why...."

"Calm down, Lad," said Buster, crossing over the room and sitting beside him on the settee.

"It's just you're the first person ever I've told I'm a homosexual, and I don't even know how I got interested in skinheads in the first place, but now I can't think of anything else and the whole thing is getting out of control in my head, and then there's university entrance exams and all the..." David's second outburst was interrupted by Nisbo coming back into the room with a pair of the hugest boots David had ever seen. David gasped. "OK, get them on," ordered Nisbo, handing the twenty-hole black Rangers to David. Of course the laces were white.

David took the boots that Nisbo was giving him and set them down beside his feet on the ground. "I don't think I could," he said. "I'm not ready for this honest," he continued as he looked imploringly at Buster for defence. He didn't get much sympathy from Buster.

"Oh, go on mate, just try them on, you know you're fuckin itchin to, that can't do any harm," coaxed Buster. Nisbo stood over both of them. "Go on, get them on," he said, more stern than Buster, it was almost like good-skinhead, bad-skinhead. David looked at Buster again. Buster just nodded slowly.

David hitched up his jeans and began to unlace his shiny new ten-hole Docs in favour of the well-worn twenty-hole Rangers Nisbo had just set in front of him.

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