DYLAN'S GEORGIA VACATION
Chapter 25
by Donny Mumford
After parking at the fair grounds we've got quite a hike back to the entrance, and we're not the only ones. There's a long line of cars and pickups behind us parking and unloading passengers who, like us, will be walking a half mile before getting in line for tickets. Robby, Spider, Chubby and I are
taking our time. There's not a hint of a breeze on this hot, humid, and sunny day in Georgia. A hot day, but even so many of the people around us appear to be in a hurry, some of the people are jogging towards the ticket booths. Chubby asks, "Why are all these people running?" I mumble, "Jeez, I don't know, maybe only a certain number of people can be admitted per day." Spider says, "I don't think so. The fair grounds consist of something like a hundred-and-fifty acres." We walk in silence for fifteen minutes, the sun blaring down relentlessly, then Robby goes, "Jesus, finally! There's the entrance." Fortunately there are a dozen ticket windows so the lines are not too long. Surprise, surprise!
We're all sweating in this ninety degree heat, then standing in a line getting bored, I ask Chubby, "Ya got any factoids for us, bro?" He's like, "Um, yeah. This is kinda weird, but the words 'listen' and 'silent' use the exact same letters." Spider mumbles, "That's kinda weak, Jeff." So Chubby's like, "What have you got?" and Spider says, "Well, 'race car' spelled backwards still spells 'race car'." I see Chubby nod and mumble, "That's an old one. Do any of you numb nuts know what the only word in the English language is that by switching the first letter to the last letter it spells the past tense of the word?" This is a very old factoid of Chubby's from way back, so I know the answer. I mutter, "Of course! It's the word 'eat'. If you move the 'e' to the end you get 'ate', which is the past tense of 'eat'." Chubby looks at me, asking, "How the fuck did you remember that? That's a factoid I used in fourth grade." I shrug, "I never forget anything you say, bro" We're next in line now as we hear a person from inside the tickets booth tell the people in front of us, "Yes, credit 'cahds' are accepted, No extra 'chahge'." Robby and I exchange 'looks' as Chubby goes, "Apparently there's a Bostonian in Georgia? That accent is unmistakable." Spider asks, "What the fuck do you people have against the letter 'r'?" Chubby goes, "Some people from parts of Boston simply can't pronounce that letter. It's genetic."
Chubby's next to buy a ticket and I'm behind Chubby kinda staring at the man in the ticket booth. There are a couple of weird things about him, starting with his buck teeth and accent. He's also wearing the biggest and thickest black-rimmed eyeglass I've ever seen. Chubby's holding out seven dollars, asking the man, "Where in Boston are you from?" and the man says, "Dawchestah." Chubby nods his head, "Ah, Dorchester, huh? Wha'cha doing in Georgia?" The guy takes Cubby's seven dollars, muttering, "Avoiding snow storms," then he asks, "Do you want a bracelet for the amusement rides. Twenty bucks lets you ride all day on any ride you want." Chubby gives the guy a twenty dollar bill and gets a plastic bracelet. My turn now and I'm looking right into the man's blue eyes that are distorted by his thick eyeglasses making his eyes look almost liquid, like ice cubes floating in a gin and tonic. Strange! I fork over twenty-seven dollars and get my amusement ride bracelet. Waiting for Spider and Robby, I ask Chubby, "Did you see that dude's eyes?" He's like, "What dude? I was looking at her," and he points to a slim girl walking away holding hands with a guy. Chub says, "Androgynous, both of them," and Robby joins us, asking, "How 'bout that man's eyes!" I go, "They
look like they're floating in a glass of water." Robby says, "Yeah, which reminds me I'm just about dying of thirst." I mumble, "Yeah, me too. I also need a fuckin' hat or my scalped head is gonna get a sunburned."
There's concession stands along both sides of the walk leading into the fair. We get in line at a fresh-squeezed lemonade stand. The three people behind the counter are working their asses off squeezing lemons and passing out the drinks. The drinks are so cold the cups have frost around the outside. My mouth's watering until Chubby goes, "Oh shit! Check out the bald guy in the middle. He has a constant drip of perspiration dropping off the end of
his nose and each drink get either two or three drips." We gawk at the man, then together leave the line with Spider mumbling, "Fuck that." Robby's wiping perspiration off his forehead, saying, "So far this has been great fun, everything I hoped a country fair would be." We make our way into the fair grounds and away from the congested entrance area. I'm like, "I was getting claustrophobia back there," Robby holds my hand for a minute or so and I don't even think he realizes he's doing it. Letting go of my hand, he points, saying, "There's a cold drink stand with a fairly short line." We walk over to the stand selling iced watermelon drinks. Really? They cut big watermelons into slices, throw out the part with seed, then cut up the pulp and that goes in a blender, add a little water that's probably sweetened, and blend until the watermelon pulp is liquid. They pour it over crushed ice in plastic cups and sell it for $2.00. Chubby says, "It probably cost them like thirty cents, tops, to make those drinks." I go, "Yeah, and on the Wildwood boardwalk if someone made the same drink they'd charge twice as much." We all get a cup of iced cold watermelon juice and gulp it down. It's delicious so we all get another one. Robby drinks his too fast and gets a Popsicle headache. Oooh shit, they're intense! I'm rubbing Robby's temples as Spider goes, "Come on, boys, there's a lot to see and do at a country fair."
Feeling slightly refreshed we wander through the fair until we get to 'manure manor', which is what Chubby nicknames the animal displays. There's like a quarter mile of livestock fencing areas for all kinds of animals, some of the them wearing blue ribbons. I go, "Lets see if we can tell the difference between the first place animals and the losers." We can't, and Spider's like, "Jesus! I can't take this smell any longer!" Chubby goes, "What the fuck? This fair was your idea!" Off we go among the hordes of people getting close to the amusement park. Robby complains, "This place is worse than Disney World. Look at the lines for the rides." Okay, we're all a little grumpy. I'm like, "Think positively, Rob, things have got to get better, don't they?" We've been here an hour and a half by now wandered round making snide remarks about displays for cattle, goats, horses, hogs, swine, then displays for the best embroidery, crocheting, and every other kind of sewing imaginable, as well as displays for best canned goods, pickles, baking, jellies and on, and on, and on it goes. Probably a big deal to the winners, but not that meaningful or interesting to any of us. By now we're hungry and more than little grumpy, especially Spider and Chubby who have been unusually quiet. Those two guys began sobering-up while waiting in line for watermelon drinks and since then they've been dealing with killer hangovers from last night. Chubby's bitching, "Too many fucking people here, the blaring sun is too bright, and this freakin' heat blows!" I say, "We need something to eat."
Fortunately there are six million food booths. Unfortunately, the first one we walk up to sells deep fried foods only. The bizarre menu includes deep fried bubble gum, deep fried butter, yes butter. Also deep fried peanut-butter-banana-cheeseburgers, deep fried chicken fried bacon, and twenty other deep fried specialties of the house. I'm like, "Can you believe this shit?" Bizarre, but the place is doing a brisk business. The deep fat friers are bubbling and the cooks are sweating to beat the band. Deep fried anything is not what I'm looking for in this heat, so we pass up the deep fried foods and settle for a hot dog stand. We all get a hotdog and heap on condiments. Hard to fuck-up a hotdog. Big burp from Spider as I spot a cart selling sunglasses, t-shirts, hats and travel-size items like miniature toothpaste tubes, hair gel, shampoo. Things an overnight visitor to the fair may have forgotten to bring with them. I buy a hat, small packets of Advil, and bottles of cold water. The Advil and water are for the hung over among us, namely Chubby and Spider. Wearing my new white baseball cap with the logo of the
fair on the front, I walk over to join the guys who are looking at a big map of the fairgrounds that's screwed onto a telephone pole. There's a star indicating where we're at, as well as, where everything else is in relation to where we're standing. Nudging Chubby, I go, "Here ya go, bro, this will help a little." His eyes light up as he takes a bottle of water and two packs of Advil swallowing all four pills with half a bottle of water. Spider's looking at me, and I go , "What?" then smirk giving him the other two Advil packets plus the other bottle of water. That should physiologically lift their spirits until the Advil actually kicks in.
Robby goes, "Let's ride the roller coaster. Maybe it'll cool us off." Spider's studying the map, "The amusement park's that way,". Well, we can see the Ferris wheel in the distance, so Chubby mutters, "No shit, plus we walked by it a half hour ago." Still grumpy. We head off in that direction skirting the back side of 'manure manor' again, holding our noses this time. There are over forty rides, plus all the rip-off carnival games you'd expect. Dumb things like water pistol races, the burst balloons with darts game, toss quarters to land on little rounded plastic containers, skee ball, and many others. None of which we spend a dime on. Of course there's the familiar food stands selling the junk you get at a carnival: cotton candy, candy apples, funnel cakes, and stuff like that. None of which we spend a dime on either. One stand is selling turkey legs. Jesus! One hot dog is a small lunch, but not being in the mood for a turkey leg we stick with what we know and get cheeseburgers, fries, and fountain Cokes. After eating again everyone's feeling better so we get in line for the roller coaster. Spider's excited now, "I'm starting to remember the things I did as a kid. This roller coaster is awesome!" After a ten minute wait we're on the ride. Robby and me in one seat, and behind us Chubby and Spider. The ride last about a minute and it's an okay roller coaster, but we've all been on better ones, including Spider. So we're not impressed with that either. Three of us are giving Spider 'looks' of disapproval and he's frowning, mumbling, "Maybe it was a different coaster ten years ago," then he points at a ride, saying, "That's new."
It's a ride called Skyflyer. This ride, unlike the roller coaster, looks like one bad-ass scary ride. There's this fat circular tower about sixty feet high. At the top of the tower is a big round metal disc. It's circumference is about forty feet and hanging from it are chains attached to seats, two person seats every three feet around the circle. The seats hang thirty feet down from the disc, and are the same distance off the ground. As we approach it the top half of the tower begins dropping down slowly until the seats are low enough that people can get off and new victims can get on. There's a disclaimer for the ride on a big board at the entrance. It informs everyone that this ride is not for the feint of heart and no one under fifty-two inches is allowed on it. There's a list of ailments, like heart problems, that if you have any of the dozen health problems they strongly recommend you avoid the Skyflyer. Then there a list of disclaimers indicating they're not responsible for anything basically. The line isn't absurdly long, and we're healthy, so we shrug and get in line.
It's maybe a fifteen minute wait before Robby and me get strapped into one of the seats. Chubby and Spider are in the seat next to ours and we exchange smirks like, no big deal. When everyone is strapped in securely the top half of the tower moves up, up, up until it makes a 'clunking' sound at the top as if maybe it didn't exactly hook-up like it's suppose to. We're hanging straight down thirty feet off the ground, and thirty feet from the top. Nice view of the fairgrounds until the top starts slowly spinning and our seats drift outward a little away from the tower. It's going around slowly at first, then picks up a little speed and we start to feel the wind in our faces. Round and round we go faster and faster as our seats get further and further away from the tower and higher and higher in the air until the chains and the seats are stretched straight out from the circle, level with it sixty feet off the ground and spinning fast. It's hard not to scream looking at the thin chains keeping our seat from flying the fuck out into the 'manure manor', which I can see from up here. Robby's gripping my arm so tightly his knuckles are white. I'm holding my hat looking over at him seeing his eyes are closed. The big baby! Chubby and Spider are both yelling and holding their arms up instead of holding the seat belt in front like me. This fucking thing is really spinning fast. Someone way across from us hurls up their guts and it flies out to drift down on unsuspecting individuals who are soon looking up waving their fist as I hear Chubby laughing his ass off.
I'm not sure how long the ride went on for, but it was longer then necessary as far as I'm concerned. The circle begins slowing down and the seats begin losing attitude until we're all just hanging straight down again, then the top half of the tower begins lowering the seat to the ground. People getting off the ride look frazzled, or petrified, or like me... trying for blasé while feeling dizzy and unsteady on my feet. Chubby comes over, "Lets do it again!" and Robby says, "Um, lets not." Spider and Chubby get at the back of the line as I tell them, "I'm taking Rob on the elephant ride." Chubby laughs because that's a kiddie ride. We don't go on the kiddie ride though. We go on the Pirate Ship which looks harmless as it swings back and forth, but once on the ride it gets to swinging out there further and further until it feels like your stomach gets left behind. Why do we humans subject ourselves to things like dangerous amusement park rides? Not only subject ourselves to them willingly, but pay too much for the rides and wait in long lines for a one or two minute ride. Whatever, we ride the tilt-a-whirl, then buy a freshly made lemonade from someone who doesn't have sweat dripping off their nose. Finding a shady spot to drink the lemonade, Robby's still complaining, "I'm dripping wet. It's too fucking hot and I can't keep enough liquids in me." Rolling my eyes, I mumble, "Fuckin' hot alright," and t hen light a cigarette to cool things off.
Pointing out a ride called Cyclops, Robby says, "That look like a bitch too. When I was younger I liked those kind of wild rides a lot more than I do now. Dodger and I were always looking for the most outrageous rides we could find on our family trips to Six Flags." I go, "Never been there, but Chubby and I wanted to go." He says, "There's some serious rides there, let me tell ya." I shrug, "So I've heard, but our moms always had to work on Saturdays and Sundays being their only day off they weren't too excited about the drive to Six Flags, and then walking around all day. They're on their feet six days a week as it is. That's why Chubby and I never nagged them to go." Robby asks, "How'd you guys do it? I mean, your moms were always working by the time you got home from school, and then you guys left for school before they got up." I shrug, "I don't know, but I was always with Chubby so everything seemed great to me. I loved our childhood and, if I could, I'd live it all over again exactly like we did it the first time."
Robby touches my arm, "Hey, check him out." I look over and see a guy who could be anywhere from seventeen to twenty years old. Cute guy talking to a girl with a ponytail who I sincerely don't think is cute at all. The guy however is definitely Robby's and my type. He's slim, wearing shorts with good legs, not too hairy but a little hairy. He's maybe a little taller than us with some kind of brush haircut that looks very boyish, and he's got that wicked cute face with an awesome grin. Robby goes, "Look at that shit. He's trying to make nice smiling and all, but she's giving him nothing but attitude." We watch the kid's smile turn to a frown as Robby says, "He's taking her bull shit... that's sick!" I slowly shake my head, mumbling, "What a fucking waste. We could adopt him and treat him like a prince, but nooo, he likes pussy." Then the cute guy turns around and walks away and we can hear the girl screech, "Don't you fucking turn your back on me, asshole!" Parents with little kids look over at her, so she yells at them, "Mind your own business!" and stalks after they guy. Robby and I exchange smirks, then I go, "So many cute straight guys getting pussy-whipped. It's a fucking shame. And when you think about it, there are probably eight or nine cute straight guys for every cute gay guy. Seems unfair, ya know?" Robby says, "I'd love to do it with a straight guy sometime." I shrug at that and Robby grins, "Have you done it with a straight guy?" I act incredulous that he would ask me that, "Me? No, of course not!" although I have. Well, at least they claimed to be straight at the time.
Finished our smokes and lemonade we get up and wander around doing what I do on the Wildwood beach... look for age-appropriate cute guys. After ten minutes Robby says, "Holy shit, there aren't many cute guys here." I go, "There aren't a lot of cute guys, gay or straight, anywhere. Ain't we lucky?" We laugh, but I'm guessing Robby's thinking what I am... yeah, we are lucky. Robby says, "Not that looks are everything," and I'm like, "No, of course not. Um, how many un-cute guys have you done it with?" Robby chuckles, "Probably the same number as you," and I ask, "What would you assume that number would be?" Robby looks at me smirking while making a circle with his thumb and forefinger. I say, "Zero, huh?" and Robby chuckles, then says, "We're shallow." Actually I do remember one un-cute guy I did it with... my sex mentor, fat Carl. He wasn't cute in any way. I don't want to bring that sad story up though.
We keep walking and I point, "Over there, the guy in the middle." Robby looks, "He's not cute!" and I'm like, "What? You don't think he's cute?" Robby looks again, "He's alright, but too tall." Giving up on the boy watching, we check out some more of the displays, then go on the Ferris wheel that wicked high, and old enough to put the thought in the back of everyone's mind that this thing could collapse any minute. Then there's more standing in lines for rides as we bump against one another on purpose with Robby occasionally holding my hand. We ignore someone saying, "Fags" one time, and later we hear, "Look at the queers." That time a girl's voice said, "Oooh, they're so cute though!" Finally Chubby texts me that they found a place that sells Red Brick Ale. In our travels around the fair grounds we've seen a number of places selling beer, but they all have signs, 'WE CHECK ID' so Robby and I didn't bother going in. Chubby tells us where the place is located and since Spider is twenty-one we'll get served there. The directions seem simple enough but it takes Robby and me twenty minutes to find the place. We'd never have found it if we hadn't asked directions from two different guys with walkie-talkies and wearing t-shirts with 'Events Staff' on the front and back.
Finally I hit Robby's arm, saying, "I see the sign Chubby told me about. We came at this the wrong way in a big circle. When we started if we walked left instead of right it was like four minutes away from where we were." It's an open-sided tent with a Red Brick Ale sign blinking above it. Never heard of Red Brick Ale, but I could go for some really cold beer. Beer because we're thirsty and also we need to get into more of a partying frame of mind. It's so fucking hot and humid we're all sweating like mad and my clothes feel damp. We walk up to the crowed tent hopefully seeing no kids. Lots of kids getting under foot on the fair grounds. Kids not looking where they're going, plus little kids in strollers crying and their mothers using the stroller as a weapons to get where she want to go. In the tent we're out of the sun's glare and the first person I see is a loud-mouth women who I'd guess is about thirty years old. She's with either her boyfriend or husband pounding down beers with a stroller between them. In the stroller a toddler's screaming or crying, it's hard to tell which. Robby and I roll our eyes at each other and scan the crowd looking for our boys. Then I spot Chubby and Spider at the other end of this big tent. They're sitting with strangers at a table for eight.
We make our way over for one-arm hugs and a pat on the back from Spider and Chubby. There are seven people at this table already, so when Robby sits down there's no seat for me. Chubby pulls over a chair from the table next to our's with a man yelling , "Heh, pal, that seat's taken!" Chubby smiles at him, saying, "We'll just borrow it if that's okay with you. Thanks!." Nobody at that table has the balls to follow up their initial attempt at saving the seat, so it's all good. I partially squeeze in between Robby and Chubby although my chair is still out in the aisle a little bit and the busy waitresses bump into it every time they go by. Robby and me are introduced to a guy and his girlfriend who are sitting to the left of Spider. They've attending the fair every day, both are college students at Texas Tech, and they're engaged to be married. The girl, Marsha, features herself a comedian and the life of the party as she has something to say about everything and everyone. She also has one of those big voices that cuts through the crowd noise and there isn't a curse word she isn't aware of as she sprinkles them in liberally along with her observations. Also she's drunk. Loud mouth Marsha is a petite cute little thing with small breasts looking like she's sixteen years old. At first it's kinda funny hearing the things that come out of her mouth because she looks so young an innocent, but then quite quickly she becomes monumentally annoying. She ignores Robby, me, and her boyfriend directing her comments mostly to Chubby and Spider. They're a receptive audience and have observations of their own, often causing her to go into an exaggerated braying laugh. Big wide mouth on that little girl with maybe twice as many teeth as most of us have and she shows all of them plus a lot of her pink gums when laughing.
Robby whispers in my ear, "If you didn't know better you'd expect a two hundred and fifty pound drunk lumberjack to be doing that laugh." As he says that she's doing another big loud uproarious braying laughs at something Chubby said. I'm staring and frowning at her until a waitress interrupts asking if anyone needs anything. Marsha's big voice overrides everyone's as she orders another round, meaning two pitchers of beer for the six of us. She has ID although I can't believe she's twenty-one. Her boyfriend, Dick, is quiet as he pays for whatever she orders. He's also kind of sexy. A tall, barrel chested guy with wide shoulders, conventionally good looking with longish light brown hair and pretty green eyes. When I'm not frowning at Marsha I'm peeking across the table at Dick. Spider's telling an outlandish story about his summer bar tending job. A job he doesn't have of course. More braying laughter from Marsha as Robby and I exchange looks and then we both bark out a laugh at how foul mouthed and ludicrous Marsha is, making Dick look over at us. He senses we're laughing at her and not with her. Dick and I make eye contact for longer than we should. Huh, weird he would do that. The beer comes in plastic pitchers along with new plastic cups for Robby and me. Also a plastic bowl of salsa and a pile of tortilla chips. I don't like salsa and tortilla chips, but everyone else does. Marsha leans over the table with her skinny freckled arm and scoops up a lot of salsa on a chip, then puts the whole thing in her mouth and talks loudly as she chews it without closing her mouth. Spider's subtly batting away little particles of tortilla chips flying from Marsha's mouth. Ghastly!
Sneaking another peek at Dick I see he's peeking at me. Huh, he and Marsha have supposedly been going together for five years so it's strange that Dick would be interested in me, if he is interested in me. It's hard to tell, but if I didn't know he was in a five year straight-relationship with Marsha I'd be pretty sure he was coming on to me. There's always the chance I'm projecting of course, but with Robby right next to me what difference does it make anyway? Plus he's too big and not what I'd call 'cute', but those fuckin' eyes of his are something special! Competing with Marsha's loud mouth are the couple next to Robby. They're carrying on a conversation as if they're at a private table for two. From their accents I'm guessing they're not from around here. Thick New York accents from both the man and woman, who I'd guess are both in their early thirties. They're drinking what looks like warm beer from the same pitcher that's been between them since Robby and I sat down. Hell, the pitcher of beer I'm drinking from isn't all that cold and we just got it. The beer in their pitcher looks like it's gone flat as well as warm.
Robby's off to use the outdoor toilet as Chubby's explaining what's wrong with deep fried butter and deep fried bubble gum, as if that needs an explanation. He claims southerners consider both a delicacy, which is absurd of course. I'm eavesdropping on the two New Yorkers who are speaking English, although I'm not sure what they're saying. The man, who has a long head and a receding hairline, says, "I've always been partial to lascivious Jewish shrinks, and that goes back as long as I can remember." The woman, who's really too heavy to be wearing those spandex shorty-shorts and the small top that shows way too much of her pudgy belly, smugly asks, "That's your specialty, huh?" He's like, "No, lascivious Jewish women are my specialty, shrinks are a subspecialty." Their faces are inches apart as she asks, "Had I been a lascivious Irish shrink, would you have loved me anyway?" He touches her nose quickly with is finger, smugly saying, "The answer is yes, but I think you've just coined a tripartite oxymoron," and she goes, "Oy fay," and they kiss. I got the 'moron' part, but that's about it. Robby squeezes the back of my neck as he's sitting down, saying, "Nice outdoor toilet, babe, surprisingly clean." I nod, saying, "I need to take a piss, but I'm gonna wait awhile and get some more of this warm beer down first." The waitress comes around again and Marsha's all over it, ordering more pitchers of beer and more chips and salsa. She orders and Dick pays with fifty dollar bills. Interesting couple as Dick again makes fleeting eye contact with me, rubbing his nose this time. Is that suppose to mean something?
I hear the New York woman ask, "Was that a treacly smile you just gave me, Bob?" and he says, "What do you think?" Oh my god I can't stand them, or Marsha. I try not paying attention to either, telling Robby, "It's hot and crowded in here, huh?" He moves his head close to mine, "Yeah, and I swear to god I'm gonna punch-out these two pretentious New Yorkers in about two fucking minutes if they don't shut the fuck up." I ask, "Do you have any idea what they're saying?" He goes, "Nope! I'm not sure who's worse, them or that big mouthed, Marsha." I mutter, "It's close." We try ignoring everything except each other. We drink the warmish beer and talk about what we'll do when I get home for a weekend in August. He says, "I'm gonna skip some of dad's meetings so you and me can go out to dinner at least a couple of times. Remember our Italian restaurant?" We're drinking the barely chilled beer without thinking too much about it. It's so hot today that drinking something is pretty much a necessity. I think Robby looks sexy with his new haircut, the hairs in front wet with perspiration and sticking to his forehead. Reaching over I swipe the wet hairs to the side and he gives me one of his incomparably cute grins. I like watching his sexy lips move forming words as he talks, and overall I could just eat him up with a spoon. Our heads are close together as we talk quietly about us, saying crazy stuff that makes us chuckle and smile. The loving vibrations between us is an impossible thing to describe, but we feel it and I can almost see it. It creates a shimmering quality in the air between us like high humidity. Fuck, maybe it is the humidity, but I like to think it's our mutual love altering the very air we breath. I murmur, "Being this close to you Robby it's hard for me to keep my hands off you." He playfully pulls the visor of my cap down, quietly saying, "Tonight I want to feel your hands all over my naked body," then whispering close to my head again, he adds, "Your tongue too." I'm getting a hard-on, whispering, "Lets make love, sweaty like we are now. We'll shower together afterwards."
Breaking into our private world, Chubby and Spider get up announcing to everyone in the tent they need to take a piss. Chubby squeezes my shoulder, asking, "How ya doing, bro?" and I nod, "Better, Chub, how 'bout you?" He goes, "Except for being so sweaty it feels like I just got out of a pool, I'm good. Be right back," and he gives my shoulder another squeeze, smiling and
saying, "Love you, man." I watch him and Spider walking out as Marsha yells at Robby and me, "Which one of you two homos is Spider's brother?" We both look at her with expressions like we just stepped in dog shit bare foot. Robby finally says, "That'd be me. Spider and me are tight, bitch." I didn't expect that! He said it without any humor or friendliness in his voice. Dick licks his lips, then mumbles to Marsha, "It's Jeff who has the brother, not Spider." Her freckled skinny arm shoots out again and she globs some salsa on a chip and plops it in her mouth, saying to Robby, "So you were being a wise-ass, huh?" Robby goes, "Exactly!" Dick grins, looking at me and nodding his head a little. Neither of them know we're gay so that 'homo' comment was a generic slur like, 'you two assholes or 'you two nitwits'. Clueless Marsha points at me, yelling, "So you must be the fabulous brother Jeff's bragging about?" I go, "Ah, a clever deduction. Yep, I'm the fabulous brother." Another salsa-laden chip goes into her wide mouth and she starts to say something, but a piece of tortilla chip much be caught in her throat because she makes a gross long gagging sound, her big mouth obscenely open, both hands going to her throat. She stands coughing as Dick dead-pans in a low bored voice, "Oh my, does anyone one know the Heimlich maneuver?" Marsha's face is red, veins protruding from her neck as she does an exaggerated hacking cough, stomping her feet while pinwheeling her arms. I mimic Dick, saying, "Oh my," and Robby and I burst out laughing as Dick grins. Without getting up, Dick absently pats Marsha's back. She has tears running down her
face by the time she's done choking and eventually hacks up some mishmash of tortilla chip and salsa. Spitting the gross matter into a napkin, she sits down screaming, "For all the help you three assholes were I could fucking choked to death." Dick pours her some beer, "Here, drink this."
That's all we hear from Dick. The New Yorkers watched Marsha's dancing-coughing-fit in horror. They exchange 'looks' , then get up and scurry away, hopefully for good. Robby and I smirk at each other still giggling at Marsha's claim she almost choked to death. Her breathing wasn't impaired at all, which is what I watched for. She was taking big breaths in-between her choking, so she wasn't in any danger. Dick knew it too. She was just being her overly dramatic self in her usual 'look at me' manner... it's all about me, goddammit! Speaking of overly dramatic, Chubby comes back from the outdoor toilet raving about how clean it is, like he'd just witnessed a miracle. He excitedly adds, "It's like a regular bathroom with running water and electricity. Smells good in there too." He's grinning saying all that as if it's a toilet from outer space. Marsha's pissed-off that nobody's paying any attention to her, so she loudly tells Chubby, "I'm choking to death and none of these dick-weeds does anything to help." Chubby sits down muttering, "No shit?" and then she's leaning over putting her arm around Chubby's waist, cooing, "You'd have helped me though, wouldn't you, Jeff?" Chubby leans his head back, away from her head, saying, "Nah, probably not, Marsha, I don't know shit about that hemlock thing, or whatever it's called." Taking her arm away and sitting up straight she acts pissed-off as Chubby holds up his index finger like, 'Give me a minute here', and adds, "What I might have done is called 911 for you, ya know? Assuming I thought of it fast enough, of course." She's royally pissed-off now, "You're as bad as the rest of these ass-wipes." Chubby gives one of his big grins, saying sweetly, "Fuck you, Marsha," and Dick, who's been observing their exchange with a pleasant grin on his face now laughs out loud. Marsha's giving Chubby the finger with both hands, pumping her fist up and down. Very lady like. She's so cute and little, but her voice, her foul language, and bizarre behavior contradicts her appearance. Spider comes back and sits down, saying, "What'd I miss?" Chubby starts describing Marsha's strange behavior and she yells, "Hey, I'm sitting right here! Stop talking about me like I'm an inanimate object." Dick rolls his eyes as I get up, mumbling, "I gotta take a piss."
Robby rubs my shoulder as I mumble to him, "Be right back." It's just as hot outside the tent, plus outside there's also the sun's blaring down. The outdoor toilet does looks very nice from the outside. It's like a small A-frame cottage with two front doors, one for 'cows' and one for 'bulls'. Huh, I wonder where the toilet is for humans? I go into the one marked 'bulls' and flick on the light. An exhaust fan starts up almost soundlessly. There's a sink and a regular looking toilet. It smells pleasant and looks clean, but it must be a hundred and ten degrees in here. Then, 'Aaaah,' the relief of taking a piss when you really gotta go. Nothing like a beer piss. The door opens and in comes Dick. What the fuck? He's a big dude making it seems crowded in here now. Without saying anything he stands next to me taking out his dick and nudging me over a little. He starts pissing, then glancing at my expression of shock, he mumbles, "You should lock the door if you want privacy. I locked it for us." I'm literally speechless. His cock is about as long as mine but with a lot more heft to it, a lot more! He reaches over to take my left hand and pull it over, saying, "Hold this for me," and he places the palm of my hand on his dick taking his hand away. "Grab it or I'll be spraying the walls." Closing my hand on his cock, still holding my own, I'm basically flabbergasted staring up at him like a fool. He goes, "Give it a squeeze." I've got my fist around it now with my thumb and fingers not reaching around his fat hose.
He's acting like this is the most normal thing in the world. His arm goes across my shoulders pulling me against his side as we continue pissing. I still can't speak, feeling like a little kid next to him. He's a good seven inches taller than me and twice as wide without being fat. Flat stomach, big arms with thick wrists and huge hands. A submissive trance just flows down
over me and I do a quiet gasp while my piss stream runs out. He murmurs, "Feels good, doesn't it?" I assume he means taking a piss, or maybe he means holding his cock. All I'm capable of doing is looking up at him quizzically. He has a neutral expression on his face, asking, "Cat got your tongue?" I go, "Huh?" and I almost moan at the delicious submissive dreamy trance I'm sensing. It's so strange and yet it feels good to just float without worrying about anything and knowing I won't float up too high as long as I hold onto this fat rope. He leans his head over and down, ordering me, "Leave it out!" meaning my cock obviously, and I get a tingling down my spine making me shudder a little, still holding both our dicks.
His pee stream dries up and with the arm across my shoulders he pulls me against him chest to chest, dick to dick or fist to fist, as he's sternly saying, "Lift your head up, boy!" I look up at him as he leans his head down and covers my lips with his, then his tongue, feeling refreshingly cool, is in my mouth sliding against my tongue. He has a full beard and even through he shaves it feels like rough sandpaper against my lips, cheeks, and chin. He moves his head as he kisses and when he breaks off the kiss there's a lot of his saliva in and around my mouth. He goes, "Humph," sneering at me, then another even wetter kiss and I feel his fat cock bone-up in my fist. He mutters a command, "Stroke it," and with my eyelids drooping I stroke both his boner and my hardening cock together. Reaching down he unbuttons my shorts and roughly pulls them and my underpants down past my buttocks. I gasp as he pushes the back of my head, bending me over towards the door. Dropping both cocks my forearms go against the door to keep my face from smacking against it. He's pushing and holding my head against my arms while his other hand gropes my buttocks, then a finger goes up my ass with the hand he has at the back of my head sliding down to now grip the back of my neck, squeezing it until I grunt, "Ow, umm."
The wet head of his boner presses against my asshole and he says, his voice sounding horse, "You okay with this, boy?" In a foggy trance I shake my head 'no', but grunt, "Un huh," and the head of his cock forces in past my spinster muscles stretching my anus and making me grunt again, "Ahh! OW!" His
left hand keeps pressing my face against my forearms that are flat against the locked door, his other arm goes around and under my belly, both of us bent over at the waist. He lifts me a little until I'm up on my toes and then his boner steadily makes it way up my ass with me groaning, "Ow, ahhh, ow, oooh." When his damp pubic hairs are against my buttocks he gives a final hard hump lifting me up off my toes. His sweaty crotch is tight against my buttocks holding me off the floor for a few seconds grinding his crotch in a circle, pulling me against him. Then he sets me down and without hesitating pulls his boner back creating more pain in my rectum, then there's a hard thrust right back up my ass with some extra umpth when his groin hits my butt cheeks. He humps against me again while tightening the hold at the back of my neck, it's like a vise gripping my neck. Another tight hump against my buttocks, then his very hard fat boner withdraws slowly again, then gets steadily pushed right back up inside me with that extra hump at the end. No steady rhythm, just deliberate hard thrust with a second's delay in between each thrusts. Sweat's running down my sides under my t-shirt and dripping off my face with the pain inside my rectum reluctant to lose its grip. It's slow to leave, but after five thrusts up my ass it does begin fading and I gasp in relief.
Looking down I see my cock is boned-up very tightly sticking straight out and throbbing, so it's my cock that begins sending out sexual pleasure signals first, and then my stretched anus begins sizzling with pleasure making me moan, "Oooh, mmm, ooh," then the nerve endings in my rectum turn-on all at once and I moan louder, "Aaaah, ooooh!" He grunts doing the same final hard hump against my buttocks while his arm under my belly lifts me up on my toes again. Dick's breathing noisily but not moaning. Continuing the tight grip at the back of my neck, pushing my face against my arms, he tightens his hold around my belly with his cock impaling me and then lifts me off my feet entirely and grinding against my butt cheeks moving his boner slightly in my ass getting another moan of pleasure from me as my feet dangle two inches off the floor. I can't remember ever being as dominated as this as a spurt of precum sprays out from my pee slit, "Mmmm, oooh, aah." My shoulders shutter as he sets me down on my feet again while pulling his boner back sliding the fat thing over my prostate, "Aaaaah, oooh, fuuuck."
After three minutes or so of his deliberate trusts up my ass, the thrusting becomes quicker so I suppose the feeling of orgasm is building in him now too. It's coming on me hot and heavy as I squirm helplessly in his grasp. I'm keeping my moans of sexual pleasure down by pressing my mouth against my arm which is slippery with saliva by now. Dick's thrusts become almost violent with him lifting me up on my toes with each thrust, pulling me onto his long hard fat boner even as he's thrusting it inside me. Faster and faster, harder and harder his engorged boner slides very tightly up my ass with me now openly writhing with sexual pleasure, whining with it and almost delirious with the need to climax. I'm hanging on the strong arm under me with him gasping now too with every hump of that fat log inside me. My back arches with every thrust at my desperate need to cum and that's all I'm thinking about, but it's not quite there yet. It's another minute of me whining with desire and him lifting me off my toes until he finally lets out a long low moan with a desperate hard hump against my buttocks, him shaking a little as I feel his piercing cum stream smack off the walls of my bowels. I squeal into my sloppy arm with cum pumping out of my quivering pee slit to splash off the door, cum spray hitting my legs. He does three more hard humps up my ass, the last one picking me off the floor a good foot and holding me up as he pumps the last of his spunk up my ass.
Putting me down on my feet he does a few more lazy thrust and then pulls out with a lot of his cum rolling down the back of my legs. The feeling of his orgasm shooting inside me felt like the most spunk in my ass at one time ever. I'm gasping for breath still bent over against the door, my chest heaving while incredible sensations buzz around my body. I moan and shudder as
the last of the sensations drifts off and now my asshole feels really wide open back there. I think of Ryan saying my anus was open as big as a silver dollar, but this feels like it's opened more than that. Dick's at the sink with the water running washing his hands and whistling. I hate the sound of whistling! Slowly straighten up I turn around and see him wiping his cock with a wet paper towel, then he uses a new one to dry his now flaccid hunk of meat. His cock, clean and dry is put away and he zips up, saying nothing. I grab paper towels and wet them so I can wipe his cum off the back of my legs and butt cheeks. He slides past me, pushing me roughly against the sink, unlocks the door, and sternly says, "Boy!" I look up startled, "You and your pussy stay in here two minute before coming out!" The door slams and that's it. I'm totally out of my submissive trance taking deep breaths drying my legs and ass, then I fold toilet paper to stuff in my jockey shorts hoping the tissue absorbs the load of cum that'll be slowly drooling out of my ass. Washing my hands and face slowly without thinking about anything, then I get myself put back together and walk outside. No one yells, 'What the fuck were you two doing in there?' No one even notices me as I light a cigarette and sit on a bench feeling Dick's cum wetting past the toilet paper.
I want to think about what just happened, but first I need a plausible explanation for why the seat of my pants has a big cum stain. Okay, there is no plausible explanation for that, so I'll need to go into deceit mode. Getting up with the cigarette dangling between my lips, I feel back there and it
has leaked through. That was quite an orgasm ol' Dick had for himself. Maybe he's wicked horny and can't get relief from Marsha because his cock's too big for tiny Marsha's little pussy. On the other hand tiny Marsha has a ginormous mouth so that's an option. Picking up a cup someone threw in the trash I rinse it out at the sink in the outdoor toilet and then leave an inch of water in the cup. Back at the bench the water is poured on the seat and I sit in it. Not too cool, but sometimes ya just gotta gut it out.
Okay, now what the fuck happened in that bathroom? I lost my fucking mind, that's what happened. Can't remember a more unexpected or more dominant sexual encounter. When I say that I'm taking into account the eye contact earlier between him and me. Sure I was curious about Dick's random eye contact, but him coming right in the bathroom after me and doing each thing he did was way out of my league and totally shocking. I couldn't handle it and I can't even claim it was rape because he asked if it was okay and I said a shaky 'Un huh' instead of 'Uh uh', which is what I should have said. Of course I could also have said, 'No, it's most definitely not okay, you asshole! Are you out of your fucking mind?' I had a couple of choices there, but I chose 'Un huh'. Would he have fucked me if I said no? I don't know of course, but I'm pretty sure he wouldn't have. Just a feeling I have. What the fuck, it was quite a hot and dominant sexual experience, although one that oddly I'd never want to do again with him, and yet I don't say no to Timmy's repeated fucks with his two inch boner. I wonder why that is? Is it that fucking with Tim almost doesn't even count, and getting fucked by that big bastard who totally dominated me... that most definitely does count? Yeah, that's pretty much it. I feel guilty betraying both Robby and Ryan. What I need to put on my 'to do' list is practice saying the word 'no', or maybe 'fuck no!' would be even better. I do not feel good about that sex, but making an issue of it now seems stupid. It would just make matters worse.
I'm not even trying to rationalize this to myself. I should have said, 'no' period. Interrupting my thoughts, Robby comes out of the tent shielding his eyes against the burst of sunshine that blinds you for a second coming from the low-light of the tent. Still using his hand as a visor, he asks, "Are you okay, Dylan? Why are you sitting out here by yourself?" I shrug, "Just wanted a cigarette. Sit with me, Robby." He sits and takes a smoke out of his pack, mumbling, "That bitch, Marsha, never shuts up and her boyfriend,
what's-his-name, never says a fucking thing." I go, "The oddest couple I've ever met. That asshole Dick came right in the outdoor toilet with me and stood next to me pissing." Robby frowns, "What?" then, "Didn't you lock the door?" I'm like, "The first time in my life I didn't lock a toilet door, but it's like the place was so unexpectedly nice and clean, um, locking the door slipped my mind. Ya just don't expect an outdoor toilet like that." He nods, "It's clean alright. Um, did he have a big dick?" I shrug, "Don't know. I didn't look at it. I was kinda flabbergasted he'd do that." Robby asks, "Did he say anything?" I go, "Not much." Robby mutters, "Weird," then he says, "Spider and Jeff want to stay for the country and western band performance tonight, then the fireworks." I go, "Oh balls! I've had enough country fair for one day," then I make a face, muttering, "What am I sitting in," and get up looking behind me. Robby chuckles, "Oh fuck, you sat in some bodies spilled beer or something." I'm like, "Goddammit!" Robby says, "I'll get some paper towels from the outdoor toilet." Nodding my head I swipe at the back of my pants. I want to avoid going in there with Robby because he might have the same idea Dick had and, while that'd be hot, Dick's creamy cum is too fresh.
With a handful of paper towels Robby wipes my ass, then says, "Come in the bathroom with me and we'll wipe inside your pants too." I go, "Oh my God, you've done more than enough already, Rob! Thanks, but I'm good. I'm dripping with sweat anyway." I take the paper towels from him and wipe the seat, muttering, "What kind of asshole spills beer on a bench?" After I dump the paper towels in the trash we sit down again. Robby pulls the visor of my hat down like he did earlier, saying, "Don't worry, it's so hot, babe, your pants will dry in no time." Readjusting my hat, I put my arm across Robby's shoulders hugging him against my side, murmuring, "I love you so much, Robby, and I especially loved that thing you said about there being nothing you can think of that you couldn't forgive me for doing." He chuckles, "Yeah, it's pretty much true too." I say, "Ya know, that's the kind of thing true lovers say to each other 'cause nobody's perfect, we both know that." He nods his head leaning against me as many people mill around or walk by. A year ago neither of us would be so casual about openly showing gay affection in public.
It's nice sitting with Robby and then Chubby comes out on his way to take another piss, saying, "Come on inside boys, big mouth Marsha just got Dick to buy too more pitchers of beer and this time with two dozen hot wings. Free booze and snacks." Robby goes, "Money for nothing, chicks for free," and Chubby says, "Dire Straights... 1985." I shake my head, mumbling, "The trivia and factoid king of the world, my brother." Robby and I go back inside and find Spider standing and arguing with a man and a women. When he sees us, he says, "There's two of them now," then to us, "He wants your seats," and the man pulls the lady's arm, mumbling, "There's two people getting up over there." They leave and we sit down as Dick glances at me with a blank expression on his face. Marsha asks, "Where the hell were you two?" Robby says, "What's it to you?" and she yells, "Ya know damn well there's no saving seats here and it's a pain in my ass saving them for you two fucks." Spider goes, "Pain in your ass? You didn't say shit, I saved the seats!" She goes, "Go fuck yourself! The waitress said no saving seats." Two black guys in their middle twenties are now occupying the New Yorkers' seats. The guy next to Robby says, "No saved seats is stupid. People gotta use the bathroom. We are drinking beer, aren't we? So fuck her." I guess he means the waitress, although he said it to me and Robby so he might have meant , 'Fuck Marsha'. That's what I'm going with anyhow.
We're here another half hour in which time Dick says not a single word, the black guys meet some brothers and they're standing and doing the one arm hugs, saying, "S'happenin', bro?" and "Y'all motherfucker's getting tight?" Another one goes, "Sho'nuff, bawse," and they leave taking their pitcher of beer with them. Marsha never does shut up and Chubby finally smiles at her, saying to Dick, "How the fuck do you put up with her, dude?" As for me, I can't take this shit anymore, saying, "I've gotta get the fuck out of here." Robby stands up then too and thanks Dick for his generosity while saying nothing to Marsha. Chubby chugs his beer and bumps Spider's shoulder, 'Yeah, lets walk around a little. Come on, Joseph," then those two thank Dick for the beers. Dick's shrugging and waving his hand a little, like, 'It's nothing'. I thank nobody and we're finally done with the Red Brick Ale tent after a two and a half hour beer break. It's after six o'clock so we're again looking for a place to eat. Spider is a little bit loaded, but Chubby seems okay. Robby and I had about half the beers those two had so we're good. On the fair grounds there's some indication however that some people have been over-served beer some place or other, or maybe they brought their own moon shine. Most of the drunks are in small groups of guys, who in the not too distant past were teenagers, girls too. Kind of a rowdy atmosphere developing here at the country fair.
Chubby wants to see the country and western band performance at eight o'clock, and then the fireworks at ten o'clock, so it looks like we'll be having fun here for at least another four hours. Robby says, "I'm trying really hard not to think about the nightmare we're going to experience when sixty thousand people decide to leave after the fireworks. That was a two-lane highway we came in on." The rest of us look at each other and it's like a light bulb blinks-on over each of our heads. I go, "Fuck, lets skip the fireworks. We've seen fireworks every year I can remember." Chubby's rubbing his chin, then he goes, "Yeah, and fuck a whole bunch of country and western bands too. Let's eat something and then take off. We'll beat the crowds and Spider can get us a case of beer back at the motel, or we can reappear at the
garage bar." To Robby and me, he says, "Dudes, you gotta experience this garage bar. They've got more country and western music than you could ever wish to hear. Plus all the derelict drunks from the whole county will be there trying to out drink each other." Spider goes, "Yeah, let's go! This fair blows anyway," and the rest of us say, "No it doesn't! It's awesome!" Then we walk around looking for a place to eat while unmercifully mocking everything about the fair and laughing our asses off. In other words, we joined the ranks of those over-served little groups adding our own little rowdy element to the fairgrounds.
to be continued... Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com donnymumford@outlook.com
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Hoping some readers may be interested, there are books of mine published and available on Amazon.com. Anyone who has Kindle can download them for next to nothing. (Or buy the 'print' version.) The books are under ten dollars. They are about a 19 year old gay boy (Oliver) who has a far different life than Dylan's. And there is a new book, 'Mike, his Bike and Me'. Please at least check them out by typing my name on Amazon.com. Information about the story in the books can be found in some detail there. Thank you.
Donny Mumford
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