DYLAN!
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
That was a wonderful date with Willie, except I forgot to tell him I'll be on vacation in Wildwood and unable to go on our Saturday night date. Tomorrow after work is the Dickers' swim party, so I'll wait to talk about Wildwood with Willie on Thursdays. Maybe he'll join me there for a date. Getting to sleep tonight didn't even require a jerk-off because Willie had done a fantastic job of taking care of my sexual needs. Omigod, tonight's sex was almost as hot as Carl's. I climaxed three times with Willie in only four hours or so.
I was up on time the next morning and raring to go. Well, not quite raring. I was a little tired because of my late date, but I had a smile, wishing I had a gay friend to share my dating experiences with. It'd be cool to compare notes, show them my hickey, or something. Probably, that's a veiled way of saying I wish I could brag about my boyfriend and our date at his mansion. Yeah, well, I don't like to think of myself as the type of person who brags.
Then I thought about something practical, meaning a lock for my locker. I'm still concerned about being the only guy with a lock. Still, I don't want to find any more shit in there calling me queer, or worse. Wearing boxer shorts, I searched my high school backpack in the basement. There it is, and hanging on it is my combination lock from my gym locker. I know the combination, like my birth date, which isn't surprising since they're identical. I twirled the dial to unlock it and then went upstairs for a quick shower.
I got dressed and covered the hickey with a big, round Band-Aid. It's another ingrown pimple if anyone asks me. I looked at the necklace around my neck, thought about it, and left it there. Arriving at work, I immediately went over to check my locker. Not expecting to find anything new. Inside were six sex pictures printed from a website called DOGGYBOYS. The pictures showed teenage boys doing anal sex, rimming, and oral sex. The boys were awfully cute, but I shook my head at that thought as a scary chill ran through me. Why is someone doing this to me?
I studied the pictures one last time, balled them up in my hand, and flushed them down the toilet. Then I changed into the company logo shorts and T-shirt for work, put Chubby's and my bathing suits in my locker for tonight's barbecue pool party, and locked my locker with my gym combination lock. When that lock snapped closed, it gave me such a good feeling. Try getting in there now, asshole!
Robby came hurrying in and said, "Sup, Dylan?" We do a quick one-arm hug and pat on the back. Robby started changing into his work clothes as I sat next to him, sneaking peeks at his fantastic body. It didn't take but a minute to change, and then Robby started my morning massage and stopped. I turned my head and saw him staring at my locker. I muttered, "Um, yeah, I put a lock on it because, ah..." Robby said, "You don't need to explain." I said, "Yeah, it's because Chubby's new swimsuit is in there, and I don't..." "I said there isn't any need to explain!"
His attitude was weird. That's the first time I've heard Robby raise his voice. I muttered, "Fine..." and we continued with the groping we insist is massaging. Robby's hands felt so sexy on my body; he's got strong hands making for great bodily contact, and, boy, oh boy, am I ever being spoiled by my new friends, Robby, Dodger, and Willie. When it was my turn to massage Robby, I took a chance and hugged his head against my stomach affectionately for ten full seconds, and all Robby did was a quiet sigh.
We finished, but I needed to pee, so I told Robby I'd see him in the parking lot. Joel came out just as I got to the lavatory door, and we almost ran into one another. As usual, he had a mean puss on his face when he saw me. I gulped and muttered, "I'm sorry," and he snapped out, "The fucking nerve of you following me! Are you queer AND stupid?" Grabbing the back of my neck in his vice-like grip, he sputtered, "Get in here and don't say a word."
I was scared and offered no resistance as he pushed me into the lavatory. This madman is freaky strong, so I wasn't thinking about smart-ass comments. Joel turns me into a pussy. Trying not to whine, I hunched my shoulders against the pain of his grip on the back of my neck. Without easing the pressure, Joel hissed, "You can't stay away from me, can you? You'll be happy to know I'm not done with you, not by a long shot. That little slap around Monday was to get your attention. Do you understand what I'm saying, fairy boy? Don't speak; I can't stand your girly voice; nod if you understand."
No, I don't understand, but I do the easy thing and nod as if I did. He'd moved so close to me that I felt the heat from his body and his moist breath on my neck; there was a raspy sound to his breathing as if he was aroused or pissed off, or maybe being his normal insane self. I stood as still as I could, waiting for what this maniac was going to do to me next. At least a full minute went by with him almost on top of me, breathing weirdly but not speaking. The pain in my neck was dull now, almost like it had turned numb. Then, with a weird whine from Joel, his body was against my back.
My bowels felt loose, and I had to pee so bad I wanted to cry. Joel could easily kill me right now, and then he'd have to spend the rest of his life in jail for murder, but big deal, I'd be dead. Finally, it seemed like a long time, but it was probably twenty seconds, Joel said in a strangled voice, "I'm trying to figure out if you're worth the trouble. At least you didn't go running to Mommy, peeing your panties, crying that some mean guy beat you up. You kept your beating to yourself. Right?" I nodded, and Joel took a deep breath, let go of my neck, and growled low, "Let me see you walk over to the toilet stall and back. Do it!"
I walked slowly, almost stiff-legged, so my buttocks wouldn't move. After four steps, he rushed over and grabbed my right buttocks with that machine-like grip and almost pulled me off my feet, snarling, "Nobody fucking walks like that; what are you, a zombie?" and he jerked on my buttocks again. It hurt so badly that I cried out, "Ouch! Oh, ahhh! Please, that hurts." He snapped, "Well, walk like a fucking human then," and he let go of me. Jesus, the pain in my buttocks was like a pulled muscle. Holding my breath, I tried to walk normally. "Walk back to me now."
When I was in front of him, he said, "That wasn't too faggy. Shall I waste my time on you? Are you worth it? I know Goddamn well you're
hanging around me, hoping I'll notice you. In one weekend, I'd make a new boy out of you. How old are you?" I was afraid to say anything because it might be a trap. He'd already told me emphatically not to speak in his presence. I bit my lip... what to do? I think I'm going to pee my pants.
He grabbed my jaw, his thumb on one side and strong fingers on the other side, gripping so hard tears ran down my face. "Answer me," he demanded through clenched teeth. I said, "I'll be eighteen next month." He let go and thought for a minute. I stood in front of him, shaking. He wiped his face with the palms of his hands and muttered, "Whether you realize it or not, you'd like me to take interest in you. Think about it and nod your head." I still had no idea what he was talking about, but it seemed better that he took an interest in me rather than beat me up or, worse, kill me, so I nodded. He said, "Yeah, you do, but watch your step. You're still only a maybe."
Without touching me again, he turned and left the lavatory. I stood there a minute and tried comparing Joel with the Marine, but there was no comparison. The Marine never seemed dangerous, just very stern. But what do I know? I locked myself in a toilet stall and did a long number one and then a number two. That was a relief. Running for the pickup in the parking lot, I got there ten seconds before Toby. Robby helped me up into the bed of the truck and asked, "What's wrong, Dylan? You're pale as a ghost. Are you okay?" I was shaking still, and my neck and butt cheek hurt
where Joel had squeezed too hard, so I winced when I sat down. Robby sat beside me, putting his arm around my shoulders, "What is it, Dylan?"
Wow, something good comes from something bad. I mumbled a jumbled tale about my stomach being upset, and I was on the toilet, but I'm better now. Robby held me against him gently and pulled my head down on his shoulder, and his kindness almost made me cry. That's twice that a Joel-related incident had me crying or nearly crying. I hate that motherfucker with a passion. I felt sorry for myself on the one hand and enjoyed being babied by Robby on the other.
By lunchtime, I felt like myself, but in the back of my mind, I was still scared of Joel, and there was no sense to pretend otherwise. He was dangerous, and for the life of me, I couldn't figure out why I was the only one in this company to recognize that fact. Even Toby noticed I wasn't
myself this morning, and he tried to help by spending additional time with me and doing his own form of overbearing touching, which, of course, made everything worse. He meant well, though, so that counts for something. All day, I tried to concentrate on the fun I'd have at the Dickers' pool and barbecue party with Chubby, Robby, Dodger, and the great grilled food.
There was no further interaction with Joel, but he'd done enough already to fuck-up my day. I was happy when work was over. Riding back to the office, I thanked Robby for his support, and he brushed it off, saying I'd do the same for him. It was one of those moments when, all of a sudden, you realize you really are friends, not just acquaintances. Robby and I are real friends, but my dream is to take it a step further with him if you know what I mean.
I arrived at the Dickers, and the first person I saw was Dodger; he was smirking at me, standing by the steps. Haha, Chubby over near the driveway, giving me the finger and smiling simultaneously. I soon find out he's giving me the finger because Dodger told him a bullshit lie about something he said I said. Dodger likes to start trouble. I said, "You little dweeb, I never said that, and you know it." Dodger mumbles, "Oh, well, my bad then." I told Chubby, "Bro, don't believe anything from that little troublemaker's mouth." It was all in good old-fashioned ball-breaking fun, though.
Mr. and Mrs. Dickers were inside getting the food preparation started, and we were outside drinking lemonade. Chubby tells a joke he'd heard from one of the older window washers. A guy's wife walks up behind him and whacks him on the head with a magazine. He asks what was that for? She says she found a piece of paper in his pocket with the name Laura Lou on it. He says, Oh, that's a horse racing bet at the track I was at last Saturday. The wife apologizes for hitting him. Then, a couple of days later, she hits him over the head with a cast iron skillet and knocks him out. He comes to and asks why she knocked him out. She says, "Because your horse just called on her cell phone."
We're going for a swim until dinner, so we change in the little bathroom off the garage. Dodger drops his shorts, pulls down his jockey shorts, and mutters, "Take a look, Dylan." Giving Chubby his swimsuit, I tell Dodger, "Oh, no! What's wrong with your cock and balls now?" He had shaved his sparse pubic hair. He goes, "Ta-da! Just like yours." Staring at his beautiful penis and nuts, which were pretty much perfect before, and now looked so perfect, they looked artificial. Shaking my head, I mutter, "Don't do everything I do. Jesus!"
When Dodger dives into the pool, he hardly causes a ripple. Then he swims the length of the pool underwater without any apparent body movement except a subtle undulating motion along the length of his sleek five-foot, six-inch body. It looked impossible, but it was right in front of me. He flipped around underwater, kicked off the wall, and did the same thing back the length of the pool. What a swimmer! What a couple of
unbelievable athletes Robbie and Dodger are. It's all about the inherited genes. If you've got the right ones, that's good for you. If you don't, tough shit, you're just average, like me.
Chubby and I are average, so I'm jealous of Dodger and Robby's good fortune. Dodger is waiting for me to join him, so I dive into the pool, creating a large wave of disturbance on the surface. Dodger grins, mumbling, "Great dive for a fifty-year-old overweight drunk lady." I mumble the clever "Fuck you" retort. While he's laughing, I dunk him. Wrestling in a pool with teen boys is fun, but my elbow accidentally caught Dodger in the chin, and he swam away. Dammit, I didn't want to hurt him.
I looked around and saw Robby and Chubby getting the charcoal fire started, so I floated over to Dodger and said, "Hey, Dodger, it was an accident. I'm sorry." He mumbled, "Bullies like you should be put in a room together to pick on each other, and then you'd leave regular little kids
like me alone." He was trying not to grin, but a big goofy grin broke out on his face as I muttered, "You're not all that little."
He said, "Seriously, Dylan. Do you think I'm gay? I think I might be." Oh, fuck, I don't want this discussion. I shrug, swim away, saying, "Don't ask me, Dodger. I don't know." He swims after me, "Yeah, you know, Dylan," and swims underwater around the pool. I asked Chubby, "Are you ever jumping in the pool?" He's laughing with Robby and doesn't hear me, and then Dodger swims up behind me and gets his arms around my throat.
He climbs onto my back, his legs going around me, and then pushes off with one hand, pushing us away from the side of the pool.
It isn't easy to keep us floating and turning, trying to get him off, and I'm exhausted, paddling toward the shallow end of the pool wearing Dodger like a backpack. He's giggling and enjoying the ride, murmuring, "This is where a kid would want to be if he has a crush on you. Don't you think, Dylan?" I'm still breathing hard, trying to save my breath, so I let him babble.
Dodger let go of my throat with one arm, reached between us to pull my swimsuit down under my right ass cheek, and pushed his finger past my sphincter muscle into my asshole. It happened so quickly; I was surprised to feel the water and then his finger inside me. "What? No, Goddammit, Dodger! Stop fucking around; your brother and Chubby will be over here any minute." He hung down lower on my back, holding onto me with his legs and his left arm. I felt him pushing his finger in and out of my asshole about two-inch thrusting.
He's making aroused-sounding noisy breathing, pushing his finger inside me up to his knuckle, and involuntarily, I spread my legs a little allowing him easier penetration, and he fucked me with his finger. My face was red with embarrassment at being so vulnerable to this little kid. I said, "We won't be friends if you don't stop that!" I was pissed, and what if the guys or, God forbid, the parents saw this? Dodger slowly continued the finger fucking, and I could now feel his four-inch spike of a boner poking my back. After a dozen penetrations, my anus was loose enough to easily accommodate his moving finger. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and pulled his finger out.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I glanced over to check on Robby and Chubby, seeing them going inside. Thank God! Then, sounding pissed off, I said, "Pull my bathing suit up right now and get off my back!" Dodger was squirming on my back, and I did the turnaround in the pool again, this time shrugging my shoulders and bobbing side to side, but I couldn't come close to dislodging him. Finding it hard to believe, I now felt his bare crotch against my bare buttocks and realized in horror that his squirming was him getting the Speedo bathing suit below his nuts so his boner was free to maneuver. "Don't you fucking dare, Dodger! And why don't you say something?"
No words from Dodger, only heavy breathing. Then, with a slight movement of his supple body and a flick of his hips, his boner's head slipped past my sphincter muscle, and he was inside my body. He uttered his first sound since he'd climbed on my back. He moaned, "Ahhh," and then he humped his cock inside me another couple of inches, and then, making a long, breathing, gasping sound, he pushed the rest of his boner inside me and humped against my buttocks. I was now standing in the four-foot pool area. I moaned, "Umm," and spread my legs some more, bending forward as another moan, "Oooh," slipped out of my throat. I felt his boner getting fatter, and, Goddamn, it felt good!
He squeezed up against my buttocks, pulling with his legs from in front of mine, and maybe as much as another half-inch of boner went in me. I
heard Dodger whimper quietly, a sound of pleasure as he pulled his boner out some and immediately drove it back in. It felt fantastic, and I was docile now, bending over, giving myself up. Dodger has a great size penis for casual fucking, but this isn't right, so I sputtered, "Please, Dodger, you've had your fun. C'mon, we'll get caught. Think how you'll feel." He trusted his hard, now fat boner in and out of me a half dozen times, and I felt my climax button get punched, and it became alert.
He gasped, thrust another six times, then said, "I can't stop. It feels too good," and he began steadily fucking me. I leaned forward a little more without thinking about it, and now his fucking felt even better. We were both too far into the pleasure zone to stop or even wanting to stop. Dodger was grunting and making quiet noises as he pounded his fat boner up and back in my wide-open asshole, and I was moaning, "Ah! Ah! Ah!" Dodger said, "Grab the side of the pool." When I did that, he slid off my back, and I pushed back from the pool so my ass was the right height for Dodger to keep fucking me.
It was a trip to the outer planets, and it was so surreal when I blew my load; I didn't know where I was for a few seconds. The pool water slushed around us and partially covered my girlie squeal when I climaxed. Dodger made squeaking sounds and muttered, "I'm going to cum." A few seconds later, he humped against my buttocks, made a sound like he was in pain, and I felt extra warmth inside me, and it was squishy as Dodger frantically thrust his boner for ten seconds and then pulled his dick out. I watched our cum loads float on top of the water as Dodger stroked his cock, his eyes closed. I batted at the floating cum to break it up, and it drifted over to the side and was sucked into the filter.
I had a good climax, but I was wide open back there, and it felt like all the water in the pool was going up my ass as I pulled up my bathing suit. From beginning to end, that took less than three minutes, although it felt like forever. Finally breathing normally, I turned around, facing Dodger, who was on the other side of the pool. His face was flushed, but he didn't seem worried. Was that a smug expression on his youthful, cute face? He said, "Don't be mad at me, Dylan. I didn't plan that. It started out as a joke, and then my dick took over my brain."
I was mad, but mostly because of how reckless and stupid it was. That we didn't get discovered by his parents, Robby or Chubby was almost a miracle. And the other thing was how humiliating it was that I couldn't have prevented that. A fifteen-year-old dominating my ass like he did is embarrassing. But maybe the worst part is my cock starting to firm up again, looking at him and thinking about him fucking me. I knew Dodger was trouble, but still, I never expected that he'd force-fuck me like that. I wonder if he was telling me the truth about not planning it, and does that qualify as rape? Even if it does, I'd be too humiliated to tell anybody.
Dodger's eyes got big as he looked at something behind me. As I turned my head to see what it was, water rushed up my nose, and I was underwater with Robby or Chubby pushing me down. One of them goosed my cock a good one. Then Dodger was there pulling Robby off me, and there was a lot of water thrashing around. All four of our heads popped out of the water, Robby and Chubby laughing and me sputtering, coughing up pool water, then yelling, "What the fuck, guys?"
Chubby hugged me, "We couldn't stand seeing you and the little brother doing nothing in the pool, so we thought we'd liven things up a little. I mutter, "Be sure to know I'm going to return the favor sometime tonight."
So, they didn't see Dodger fucking me. Thank God!
The food was even tastier than last Wednesday, and that is saying something! Dodger kept giving me moon eyes like he was deep in puppy love with me. I wonder if I was his first screw. It wouldn't surprise me at all if I were his tenth or twentieth. Haha!
Dodger was hanging around me all night, asking me not to be mad at him. I told him I wasn't, but don't try that again. That's what I told him, but it was a hot dominant fuck that I wouldn't mind experiencing again. Nothing else untoward happened, and it was a really good night at the Dickers' pool party.
The Dickers arranged for a neighborhood kid to fill in for me when Chubby and I were on vacation for the next two weeks. The kid didn't want to work more than two weeks, though. Good, that works well for me. We weren't leaving for Wildwood until Sunday because the moms had to work Saturday night. Chubby said he couldn't miss the Saturday night window washer boys' meeting at Rickie's, which was the other reason we were leaving Sunday. The Dickers were happy I could work that Saturday, and now I could go on my Saturday night date with Willie. I surprised myself how excited I felt about that.
The mosquitos were out, so we were getting ready to leave when Dodger nodded at me. He wanted me to walk to the garage with him. I can't imagine what he's up to now. After taking an exasperated deep breath, pretending I'm still pissed off at him, I ask, "What do you want now, Dodger? If you try anything like you did in the pool, I will get rough with you, and I don't want to have to do that." Dodger's eyes open wide, and he says, "Oh, don't get me all excited with that talk of rough treatment." We wandered to the side door of the double bay garage. I mutter, "What is it, Dodger?"
He seemed contrite, mumbling, "I'm wondering why you're being mean to me?" It's just like Dodger to put me in a position of defending myself when I haven't done anything wrong. Controlling my frustration, I calmly told him I wasn't being mean. He has taken advantage of me several times now, so I feel I need to be on the alert with him. He says, "Hey, I told you I'm gay at the Mall because I trust you, so you should trust me too. By the way, are you gay?"
I pointed out to him that he'd just changed the subject and that his question was none of his business. Dodger looked innocent and said, "Okay, I'll assume that the answer to my question is yes. Is that okay with you?" He's so fucking cute with that smirk of his. His bright, shiny eyes hint at the intelligence behind them. Dodger is very smart, very precocious. Changing the subject again, he says, "You know what we did in the pool was fun." I say, "What we did? You mean what YOU did, don't you?" He smiled and said, "No, no, no, we did it together. What I want to know is, when can we do it again?"
I was flabbergasted. "Are you out of your fucking mind? Anyway, Chubby and I are leaving any minute now." After nagging some more, Dodger said, "Well, can we kiss goodbye since we're both gay." That reminded me of my first time with Carl when he'd used the same tactic Dodger used. I mean, if I don't go to the trouble of contradicting him about his assumption that I'm gay, it would be verification that I am. I took another deep breath and gave up. Dodger has too much energy for me, and he was determined that we be gay together, and a kiss was a very good compromise to us fucking again, so I said, "A kiss between us two gay friends will be nice."
Dodger said, "Two gay friends who had sex together," and I corrected that to, "Two gay friends, one of whom raped the other one." He said, "Be nice, Dylan." Dodger leaned against me, and we kissed quickly. He said, "That doesn't count," and I said, "The only other kiss we're doing here is if you kiss my ass." He grinned and tried to do that, but I walked away, mumbling, "Take a break, Dodger."
Chubby and I changed our clothes, and after we thanked Mr. and Mrs. Dickers several times, Robby drove us home. Dodger insisted on coming with us, meaning he needed to sit on me even though Chubby was squeezed into the little second-row seat behind the driver, and there was room for Dodger in the front seat. It's too much trouble to argue with him, and, anyway, I had a nice boner by the time we got to our place, and so did Dodger.
We got out with Dodger only goosing me twice. Chubby and I sat on our front steps and smoked two shared cigarettes, discussing how great the Dickers brothers and their parents were. I wondered about Dodger's aggressiveness and how hot he was as a sixteen-year-old. God help the world when he's twenty-one.
Chubby and I both needed to get up early for work, so we hugged goodnight, and I kissed his cheek. He murmured, "Nice," and kissed mine. It was so sweet I was speechless for a second, and then I mumbled, "You don't even know how much that means to me, Chubby. You're the best friend anybody ever had." I think Chubby was a little emotional because I heard him swallow hard, nod his head, and squeeze my hand. Then he did a tight smile and waved as he went up to his place. Watching him go up the stairs, I had two thoughts. I love him, and what a great ass he has!
Thursday was the first day in quite some time that I felt I could walk up to my locker without trepidation. It was locked overnight, so I wasn't
worried that something was in there. That was a nice feeling. Massages with Robby, exchanging smart-ass remarks with the college guys, and staying out of Joel's way got me through the day nicely.
Last night, Chubby said something about doing our old four-mile run after work tonight, so I didn't start our dinner when I got home. I changed into running shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt and drank a Root Beer. When I saw Chubby walking up the steps, I went to meet him. He looked so pretty, and I know boys shouldn't be pretty, but sometimes he is, and I don't mean in a girly way. He has very nice facial features. Especially nice eyes and nice hair. The very thought of him fucking me gives me the most rigid boners imaginable.
We hug hello, and then he says, "I'll change and be right down, Dylan." Nodding, I played with my dick through my running shorts. It felt good to gently goose my penis and get it semi-hard. I positioned it from left to right in my underpants, hearing, "Jesus H Christ, are you playing with yourself again?" I go, "Huh?" as I turn around and see Chubby pulling a T-shirt over his head, chuckling. He added, "Caught you again." I mutter, "Whatever are you talking about?" We smiled at one another, and off we jogged.
I either run next to him or behind him, never in front of him. I like to see him all the time. Running next to him, our swinging arms often rub against each other, and behind him, I can stare at him. Chubby was in a good mood today. Sometimes, he's glum for an hour before loosening up after work. I need to walk on eggshells around him on really bad days when he comes in from work with a pissed-off look on his face or, even worse; sometimes he looks so sad it breaks my heart. I've given up asking what the problem is because that gets him gloomier, and he won't tell me.
Today is a good day, though. We ran a slow two miles because we lost our wind from a lack of consistent running. It was so nice running with Chubby again that I didn't bother timing each mile.
Without any connection to anything we'd been talking about, Chubby says, "The percentage of the African continent that's still in a wilderness
condition is twenty-eight percent, and the percentage of North America that's wilderness is thirty-eight percent. Weird, huh?" That sounds like a bullshit factoid if I ever heard one, but I said, "Well, yeah, everybody knows that." Later, I found out he was right, too. At least, according to Google. He said, "More people walk to work in Alaska than any other state." I mumbled, "You don't say."
We're running with Chubby, making puffing sounds. Then, five minutes later, he said, "Intelligent people have more zinc and copper in their hair than dumb people." I ask, "Does that include the poor bastards working in zinc and copper mines?" Chubby goes, "What the fuck are you mumbling about now?" Then he laughed, and his laugh made me laugh, too. It's like when someone yawns, so do I.
We were approaching the rest area cut-off, and Chubby said, "The rest area is a must, bro. I need a real toilet as I sense a doody coming on." So, we swerved off and slowed down gradually until we were walking by the time we got to the trees. On the other side of the trees is the rest area, lavatory, and my Marine. It was a shock to see him, and I thought, stand up straight! Then, wow, he looks very handsome today with his crisp haircut.
Chubby, real low, says, "Get a load of this guy, Dylan. Whoa! Let's not get in a fight with this motherfucker?" I mumble, "Good advice, bro." Chubby
says, "I gotta take a dump. Stay out of trouble if you can." He headed at a trot for the lavatory about a hundred yards from the rest area. I watched him for a few seconds and then hesitantly turned slowly toward the Marine. He stared at me with those blue eyes, and my stomach had butterflies. I felt self-conscious for some reason. In a conversational voice, which somehow was still very authoritative, Tom said, "Stand up straight, Goddammit. Have you forgotten everything already?"
I wanted to tell him he was not the boss, but instead, I stood up very straight and clasped my hands behind my back. He approached me and asked, "Was that guy your boyfriend, Dylan?" I quietly replied, "No. That's my best friend." The Marine pulled the waistband of my running shorts out and said, "Just stand there. Be very still," and he put his other hand in my shorts and took hold of my penis with his thumb and a couple of fingers to begin stroking the foreskin on and off the head of my limp cock. I went, "Oh...no, Tom, please don't. My friend doesn't know about me. He's in the bathroom."
The Marine said, "Shhhhh. I know where he went." Then, "Okay, good. You still shave down here. I can spare you the spanking." With his grip on the waistband of my shorts, he pulled my shorts up roughly, giving me, basically, a tight wedgie. I grunted, "NO! Please, don't do that. Hey, that's too tight." Tom casually mutters, "Be quiet, Dylan. Standstill, or I will give you the spanking. You're whining like a little girl today".
My penis was getting hard now, and using my waistband again, he pulled me tightly against his body. Letting go of the waistband, he cupped the back of my head and held my face against his shoulder. He smelled masculine but not yummy like some of the boys I know. He said, "You're the only boy I've ever been with that I missed when you aren't around. What do you think about that?" His continual stroking of my foreskin on and off the head of my cock was having the expected result; I was getting very hard. He did it so confidently like it was his right to do what he wished with my dick.
Neither of us spoke for a few seconds. The only sound was my puffs of breath. This reminded me of that shit-head, Joel. But no, I'm scared of Joel, and I'm not of my Marine, so why am I doing what he wants? I was up against most of his torso by now, completely relaxed against him, my arms at my side. I made my mind a blank except for enjoying how my penis felt. It was like being in a safe, comfortable place here with Tom, but safe from what? The thought that Chubby would come out and catch us doing this, amazingly, was not a concern. I had faith that Tom would know how to avoid that.
The Marine moved the side of his face. He kissed my forehead and then turned my head and held a long kiss on my lips as precum drooled out
of my pee slit. I moaned, "Ohh," and he whispered, "You smell sexy. You're all boy, aren't you? Would you like to be my boy? You very much need what I have for you," and another long kiss, his tongue sliding on mine, as I tightened my buttocks muscles and shot a long stream of cum in my shorts and then two follow-up squirts. The Marine sounded so sincere as if he really did like me.
His voice had me hypnotized again, or whatever he did to me. I snuggled against him and moaned quietly. I'd climaxed in less than three minutes from his first touch on my penis. Tom pulled his hand out of my shorts, pinched some hairs at the crown of my head to pull my head back, and said, "Suck your cum off my fingers." My mouth opened, and he put two fingers on my tongue, and I immediately began sucking them as Tom continued
in that mesmerizing voice, "You need me to fuck you. The tip of my cock in your asshole that time scared you. That's okay, but you need my big, fat, long cock up your ass. When a real man like me fucks you, you'll be coming back for more. Sure, it's going to be painful. I'm not trying to hide that, but you need it. Text me and arrange it."
He took his fingers out of my mouth, then smeared my saliva from his fingers on my T-shirt, saying, "Once you're fucked by me, then you'll know what you need and why you need it. You need a man who will be very stern with you, so you'll eventually learn to get the most out of being fucked. The most out of sex by pleasing your man."
From a hundred yards away, we both heard the loud slam of the lavatory door. The Marine let go of me and mumbled, "It's up to you. Text to set up a date for your fucking?" He had a strong hand on my ass cheek now. I breathlessly said, "Yes, Sir, I will." He muttered, "I know you will," and let go of my butt cheek, then did a slow jog around the trees and was gone. I waited for Chubby, pulling out my too-large T-shirt to cover the cum stain on the front of my shorts. Then sat on the bench in a fog.
My cum was cooling fast and felt sticky/icky on my shaved crotch. I sat straight, taking short, fast breaths, thinking how I like it when someone takes a dominant hand with me. Yes, I thought I was moving away from that, but he put me in a trance or something, and my cock felt so
sensitized and so alive. I shivered, shuddered, and liked how that whole deal with my Marine felt. My climax was so good.
Then, somehow, I realized Chubby had been talking as he approached the bench. I heard the end, "About that lavatory here. It's wicked clean, and I don't think it's hardly ever used." I say, "I used it a week ago, and you're right. It's very clean." He looked at me, "Are you alright, bro? You look dazed or something." Shaking my head, "I'm good, Chub. I had a stich in my side. Not used to running, you know?"
Chubby said, "Fuck, dude. I had one the entire first mile, just about. Come on, let's finish our run." And away we went, finishing the second two-mile leg of our run, not slowing down until we reached the starting point. Stopping, we both are leaning over, our hands on our knees, breathing deeply.
Straightening and taking a last deep breath, Chubby says, "Whoa, invigorating!" We start walking home with Chubby telling me a factoid. "Studies prove women, in different stages of their menstrual cycle, find different types of male faces attractive. When a woman is ovulating, for example, she prefers a rugged-looking male face. When she's menstruating, on the other hand, she prefers a man doused in gasoline and set on fire with scissors in his eyes." He laughs, and I mutter, "I don't know what that means, so I don't know why you're laughing." Chubby shrugs, "Obviously, you're not familiar with what women go through monthly." I nod, "That's true, and I don't want to know."
He's been in a good mood this afternoon, so I ask, "How are things with the window washer boys?" Chubby says, "Okay, I guess, but more bad news from Rickie. Remember that first time I had him over, and he and I fucked up with wicked short haircuts?" I make a face and nod, and Chubby says, "Well, he wants all us window washer boys to get buzz cuts at Supercuts for the summer, and we have uniform T-shirts we'll start wearing next Monday. I'll wear it when I get back from vacation. Creepy green shorty-shorts, too. Like a window washer boy uniform, and we need to pay for the haircuts and uniform out of our earnings."
Chubby already had a buzz cut, so I shrugged and said, "He's a freak on a control high, Chubby. He gets high on power. He's on a power trip and loves being the boss of all you guys." Chubby said, "Yeah, and get this. He's trying to talk us all into getting our ear pierced, and all of us wearing the same stud earring thing or whatever they're called. It'll be the window washer boy earring."
None of that stuff seems too awful to me. I want to get my ear pierced. That's cool, but Mom doesn't like the idea. Chubby said all that Rickie stuff hesitantly as if he expected an outburst from me. I told him I'd like to get my ear pierced, too. If he's getting his ear pierced, that makes it a different matter as far as my mom goes; she'll give in.
We walked silently for a while, and then Chubby said, "I'm surprised but happy you're okay with Rickie's new rules. I thought you'd be all pissed off that you won't be able to give me my haircuts till the Fall and that you'd hate the idea of an earring because it's Rickie's idea." I said, "You and I are numero uno best buds forever, number one home boys, so little things like that don't piss me off anymore. I'm all grown up, can't you tell?" He laughs and mutters, "Jesus, when did you start using heavy drugs? There's got to be something I'm missing. Normally, you'd be bitching and making my life hard; hard, I say!"
Hmm, I wondered if using the word hard twice, like Chubby just did, could be one of those double-entendre things, or am I projecting again?
To be continued...
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