CHAPTER TWO
The next day Derby delivered papers faster than the speed of sound--elms and cottonwoods whipped by him on either side of the road. But when he turned down the Rolands' driveway he slacked his pace. It was even hotter than yesterday, the sun shining like a bright yellow fireball in the cloudless sky. He slowed to a leisurely ride up their long driveway thinking it would slow his heart and stop him from sweating so hard. It didn't.
He rounded the bend and on the other side of those cedars saw... nothing. Well, not nothing. The house was there of course, but he didn't see what he was looking for, what he was hoping against hope to see again. The older boy wasn't there. The truck was there, but he wasn't. Derby didn't know why he was so disappointed, but he was. He parked his bike, trudged up the stoop, opened the outside door and... huh?
The paper from yesterday was still there.
That'd never happened before. Old man Roland loved his paper and never missed an issue. Derby just stood there, holding the door in one hand and the paper in the other, staring down at yesterday's news and wondering what--
"Hey there!"
The voice came from behind Derby and launched his heart straight into his throat. He spun around, letting the storm door slam shut. It was him. The older boy stood on the grass, leaning on a shovel, smiling up at him. He wasn't wearing a shirt at all today. The perfectly tanned and sculpted flesh of his torso was on full display. Derby could see the broad muscles of his chest in all their glory, decorated with a small triangle of dark fur in the centre that ran down into a thin trail, over that unbelievable stomach and down into his shorts. He wore shorts today, too--ones that only came half way to his knees. Derby had guessed right yesterday, his lower body was just as powerful as everything above the waist. The muscles of his thighs nearly filled the legs of his shorts and wrapped around each knee in a powerful hold, his darkly-haired, diamond-shaped calves were clearly visible even from the front.
"H... hi," Derby stammered.
"Can I help you with somethin'?"
"Uh... Well, I just came to bring the paper again but..." Derby stammered, trying repeatedly to force his gaze back to the older boy's face from various parts of his impressive body. "Ya see... Mr. Roland hasn't picked up the paper from yesterday. And that's real strange, because Mr. Roland loves his newspaper and that's why I bring it all the way up here to the door insteada puttin' it in the box on the side of the highway 'cause he really appreciates it and pays me extra for it--he's a real nice man and..."
"Whoa! Whoa!" the older boy said, holding up his hand and smiling. "Take a breath, kid. My dad's not dead or nothin'. He's just on vacation."
"Your dad?"
"Yeah."
Here the older boy left his shovel, came up the stoop to stand in front of Derby and extended his hand.
"Max Roland. Nice to meet ya."
"Oh," said Derby, taking Max's hand. Derby prepared himself for a powerful grip, but still winced a little. "Well, that makes sense then."
"Yeah, I'm here for the summer taking care of things while the folks do it up in Europe."
Max had his weight on one leg and shoved his hands into his back pockets, pushing the hem of his shorts dangerously low. Derby could see the thin trail of hairs that coursed down his cobbled belly spread out again, but then looked quickly back up into Max's face. Standing face to face with Max just inches away, Derby could literally feel the heat radiating from his body, smell the sweat he'd worked up. And he sure was tall, a whole head taller than Derby.
"And you?" Max asked.
"Huh?"
Max laughed, flashing a perfect smile of white teeth.
"You, kid? What's your name?"
"Oh, right. I'm Derby Gleason. I'm the paperboy."
"I figured that," Max chuckled. "How old are ya, Derby?"
"Me? I'm sixteen. I just finished high school."
"Really? That's a bit young to be done school, ain't it?"
"A bit, but I turn seventeen in September. Dad started me in school early, ya see. Not 'cause I was real bright or anything, though. I think he just wanted me outta his hair."
This wrinkled Max's brow, but he didn't pursue whatever question it raised in his mind.
"Well, I just turned twenty. I go to college in Boston most of the year."
"Oh, wow! Boston! I've never been."
Derby stood there, trying not to look at Max's body but found himself unable to resist the round of his shoulders, the dark valley between the muscles of his chest, the bulging arms that looked as big around as Derby's thighs. Max just stood there smiling and silent, fully aware as Derby's eyes ran all over him.
"Uh..." Derby finally said, "Well, I guess Mr. Roland forgot to cancel his paper for his vacation."
"I guess so. How would I go about doing that?"
What!? Derby's face fell. If he cancelled the paper Derby would never see this guy ever again! He didn't want that to happen. They'd just met. He had to think of something.
"Uh... well... I don't really know. I suppose you'd have to call the newspaper company. Or I would. But I wouldn't really know who to talk to, I've never really done it before and I don't know their number by heart and--" Max laughed and cut him off, "I'm just kidding, Derby. I read the paper too. I just didn't get to it yesterday. You can keep on bringing it."
"Oh. Okay. Great."
Silence and staring.
"So..." Derby began. "That's nice work on that flagstone path."
"Yeah? Thanks. Those buggers were heavy," Max said, stretching his arms over his head.
"Well," Derby said smiling, "you sure made 'em look light moving them around like you were."
"Oh, yeah?" Max said, grinning and folding his ropey arms across his chest. "Thanks, Derby."
"I bet I couldn't lift one of them even once."
"You want a drink, kid? You look hot."
"A drink?"
"Yeah. I was just finishing in the garden and I was gonna get myself some iced tea. You want some?"
"Oh yeah!" he answered immediately. "That'd be great. Thanks. But..."
"But what?" the boy asked, arching his thick eyebrows.
"Well... I'm not done my route yet. Folks expect their papers on time, ya know. And... I got work I need to finish up tonight at home for someone..."
"Oh, that's too bad."
"Yeah..."
"Well... tell ya what, why don't you finish up your route here tomorrow? Then we'll have some time to hang out and cool down together. Whaddaya say?"
"Awe, sure!" Derby said, grinning from ear to ear. "That'll be great--I'll look forward to that."
"Alright. See ya tomorrow, kid."
Max slapped Derby on the shoulder and climbed back down the stoop to retrieve his shovel. Derby returned to his bike and watched Max saunter back around the corner of the house. Derby was about to leave when he realized he hadn't left today's paper; it was still in his hand. He climbed back off his bike, walked up the step and placed it between the doors with the other one. He took one step back to his bike and stopped.
He didn't know what possessed him to do what he did next. His body just started walking around the corner of the Rolands' house all on its own, satisfying a curiosity that it wasn't willing to let his brain grant approval for. Derby crept up to the corner, peeked around it and saw Max shoveling dirt into a wheelbarrow.
Derby drank in every movement Max made but now, while Max didn't know he was watching, his eyes were mostly drawn to his brown, cotton shorts. They stuck way out in the back over high, round, thick muscles and even stuck out in front, rounding over the contents of Max's crotch. Derby's clothes never looked like that on him. His dad teased him and said that when he turned sideways he disappeared. Max's shorts still gaped a little at the waist. He wasn't wearing a belt and every time he bent over his shorts slid down a little bit, gradually revealing the top of his crack, just visible from where Derby stood.
"Damn!" Derby thought. "He sure is something else."
Then Max stood tall and hiked his shorts. Derby whirled himself back around to the front of the house before he was discovered.
He ran back to his bike, jumped on it and took off down the driveway just like he had the day before, pumping his legs as fast as he could until he reached that bridge. This time his erection already stabbed into his lower belly before he even reached the river.
Derby threw his bike to the ground, spilling the remaining rolled papers into the high grass, dove under the bridge, threw his shirt off, lay down on his back, opened his fly and allowed his overheating penis to breathe. Looking down he could see that he'd already made a big stain in the crotch of his jeans where his hard penis had been leaking. But he didn't keep his eyes open for long.
He reached down, grabbed his already slick penis with one hand and tugged on his lightly furred balls with the other. They literally ached for release and felt fuller than Derby had ever known them to be. The head of his cock whipped in and out of his foreskin like mad. It wasn't even a minute before he sprayed spunk all over his smooth, flat chest and stomach. His reedy grunts and groans carried on the warm summer breeze, floating over the sound of the water.
He lay on the spongy riverbank, spent. One leg bent, arms akimbo, jeans down below his knees, Derby panted and stared up at the light filtering through the planks of the bridge above him, grinning like an idiot. The confusion that flashed through his mind yesterday never even surfaced. This was right. Something about Max demanded this reverence, required it even. And Derby was more than happy to offer it. That something didn't even have anything to do with him being another guy, nothing to do with his flesh even, and yet was somehow communicated through it. Derby didn't quite know how to express these thoughts.
But he couldn't wait until tomorrow.