DYLAN'S VACATION BACK HOME
Chapter 20
by Donny Mumford
Less then a minute after Charlie scampered down the steps of our deck on his way home, my Mom and Tris are coming up the steps. They're laughing as Mom says to me, "Hi sweetheart, was that Charlie I saw crossing the alley?" I
go, "Yep, we had a beer and a smoke together. He's a really good kid. What were you and Tris laughing about?" Tris says, "Your mother thinks it's funny that I used the outdoor shower to rinse the sand off my feet." Mom says, "It's not that, it's you falling on your rear-end doing it," and they both laugh again. I guess it's one of those things where you had to be there.
Seeing them though, it occurs to me neither Chubby nor I helped them bring the chairs, umbrella, and the other stuff up from the beach. I go, "Oops, about the beach chairs and all, is it...?" and Mom waves a hand at me, saying, "Please, Dylan, don't give it a thought. Rider and Bud helped us with everything." I mumble, "Oh, good! My thanks to the guys." The Moms go inside and come out a few minutes later with glasses of gin and tonic in their hands. They're laughing again; this time it's something Bud said, and I'm thinking, 'They're having the best time with their fiancés on vacation with us'.
I get myself another beer and we all speculate where Chubby's at. The Moms tell me some of the things they did and talked about on the beach today.
It's all good, and next thing on our agenda is having dinner out.
As I'm finishing my beer Chubby comes bounding up the steps. After greetings from the moms, Chubby and I exchange grins and do a quick hug like we always do when we see each other. Chubby smells good and his body feels good too. I kiss his cheek feeling a brotherly love like no other. He rubs my head, mumbling, "Love ya, bro," then he gives the Moms, who are sitting in deck chairs, shoulder hugs as I go inside to get Chubby and me a beer. We share our individual day's activities with each other and the moms, editing-out
inappropriate material. Bud and Rider are expected here for a cocktail prior to going out to eat, so after we finish our drinks we all go inside to shower and get dressed for tonight.
Chubby showers first in our bathroom while I email Robby and Ryan, then answer texts from Dodger, Connor, two ex-posse boys, and my friend with the two inch dick from Georgia, Timmy. I feel affection for each one of them and have only good thoughts and memories of them all. That's what happens; I tend to remember the good times and that's as it should be. There's others I should text, but Chubby's out of the shower so I take my shower thinking about Robby. It's all the little things he does for me, and nice things he says to me that are so sweet and loving. I miss him and get this feeling of love for him so deeply it makes my stomach hurt. Even with this love in my heart I'm not feeling guilty about my buddy-sex with Charlie. It's simply a part of Robby's and my plan to sow our wild oats before we get married.
It's working too because my desire for side-sex isn't what it used to be. I still enjoy the hell out of it, but take today for example: I was perfectly satisfied with that first sex Charlie and I had together. The second time was more or less just an unexpected lark with me pretending to be dominant.
It was kinda fun with Charlie being a submissive sex partner... sort of.
Mostly I wish Charlie could find someone to form a relationship with; someone other than me. He likes being a somewhat submissive bottom so he needs a mildly dominant confident guy as his sex-buddy. Someone like Ryan was with me in Georgia.
Chubby and I are out on the deck showered and feeling good when the moms' twin fiancés arrive. They're nine years older than us and eight years younger than our moms. That's kind of strange, but both our Moms were a mere seventeen years old when they gave birth to us. For years the moms were self-conscious about us boys having the same boy/man father so they didn't tell Chubby and me we were half-brothers until a couple of years ago. That was very wrong, but we've forgiven them. Huh, I wonder how much they've discussed this with Bud and Rider. They must have mentioned it because there's only one way Chubby and I could be half-brothers. It's not a topic I'm likely to bring up though.
Chub and I bump fist with the twins, then Bud gives me a wrapped present, saying, "Happy birthday, Dylan. This is from both of us." I go, "Wow, thanks guys! My birthday's tomorrow though." Rider says, "Yeah, we know, but you'll be showered with gifts tomorrow so we thought we'd give you our's today." I snort out a laugh, "I don't recall ever being showered with gifts, but thank you both." Opening the little box I see a slim leather billfold, then a pair of hundred dollar bills inside. I'm a little stunned as Chubby dead-pans, "Um, just an FYI, my birthday's Wednesday guys, so ya know, if you wanna..." They laugh as I give them both a man-hug and thank them again, and then beam at Chubby. There's just something special about benjamins. The guys go inside to make drinks as Chubby and I pass the hundred dollar bills back and forth. I'm ecstatic about this generous gift, but if someone rich like Willie got two hundred dollars for his birthday he'd be pissed that's all he got. Everything's relative.
There lots of chatter inside with some laughing so obviously the moms have finally completed their long preparation for going out, and they've joined the guys in the kitchen. The four of them come out on the deck with drinks as I'm putting the billfold in my back pocket. The Moms want to see it though so I show it to them and there's the usual positive comment from both moms about what a good looking billfold it is. And it is too, but it's what's
inside the billfold that has most of my attention. I flash the two bills and my mom give's Rider a startled look. He and Bud shrug like, 'What's the big deal?' Well, to me it is a big deal and I'm happy the Moms finally fell for guys with a little scratch in their pockets; for their sakes too of course. It's a new experience for Chubby, me, and for the Moms being acquainted with financially successful men. When I think back a few years to when that con-artist prick, Jake, was my Mom's boyfriend, oh man! Rider by comparison is a knight in shining armor compared to that sicko.
Both Bud and Rider are good conversationalist and usually have something funny or interesting to say, so it's easy talking with both these unpretentious men. They seems to really enjoy life and aren't hesitant to show their love for our Moms. Identical twins often like the same things, and I guess that goes for liking the same kind of people as well. Chubby's and my moms are like twins themselves. Not in appearance, but in every way else you can think of. And like the twins, the Moms are never at a loss for words, plus Chubby's always good for saying something outrageous so there's never a lull in the conversation and it's relaxing for me. I mostly let my brother do the talking for both of us during group conversations like this.
It's past eight o'clock by the time we head out for dinner. Chubby and I take our Jeep and the four older adults go in Rider's BMW. Eating out at the shore is cool. There's something special about the atmosphere among a group
of people all of whom are on vacation. Tonight we're eating at the Bay Shore Restaurant on the bay. It's my favorite restaurant here. I really like it because of the food, the crowds, and there's usually a lot of laughter.
There's also the smell of the Somers Point bay in the air so there's no mistaking we're at the shore.
Chubby and I order lobster. I should say, I order lobster and Chubby said, "Um, ya know what, I think I'll have the same thing my brother's having."
He always says that at restaurants and we always exchange smirks when he does it. Rider orders Old Fashion cocktails for all of us. The over-worked waitress glances at Chub and me as we're both confidently grinning back at her. She does a little shake of her head, apparently lacking the energy to argue so she doesn't bother to card us. Big deal! I'll be twenty-one tomorrow anyway, and Chubby's birthday's on Wednesday so she's not breaking much of a law. The Moms disapprove of course, but the guy's poo-poo this slight bending of the rules.
Ya know, turning twenty-one is both weird and cool at the same time. The cool parts: I'm now legal age for drinking alcoholic beverages and I can now rent a car at select car rental agencies. Of course I'd need to pay a premium price for the rental until I'm age twenty-five. Seems awfully arbitrary,
but it is what it is. I can't think of another so-called privilege the age of twenty-one gives me over say, age eighteen, never mind age twenty. The weird part is I'm now further away from being a teenager, and did I ever enjoy being a teenager! That's history though and now I'm coming to grips with the fact that every year there's less acceptable behavior for my advancing age. It's like soon nothing I did as a teenager will be acceptable behavior for a 'young adult'. Then in a couple of more years I'll be like a stranger in the strange land; the strange land of, gasp, adulthood. Youth is wasted on the young, my balls! As I'm thinking thoughts of aging, Bud asks, "Why you frowning, Dylan? What's wrong?" I'm like, "I was frowning? I didn't know that. I've nothing to frown about." Chubby goes, "My bro was thinking about how he keeps getting older," and I do frown at that, saying indignantly, "I am not! Twenty-one isn't old!" Chubby smirks at me, knowing me too well, so I can't help grinning back at him. Rider says, "I remember the night Bud and I turning twenty-one and...." he goes on to tell a funny story of the two of them over-drinking. The moms never have much to say about 'age'. Maybe because they're the oldest ones among us. Even so they're still only thirty-eight. When Robby and I get married we plan to use our sperm, with the help of a willing female, to make our Moms grandmothers. My Mom will be a forty year old grandmother. Jesus! A grandmother.
I stop thinking about getting older and listen to what everyone else is talking about, then I spot a cute young guy getting up from a table on our left. It reminds me of last year's birthday dinner when I got involved with that erotic character, John from New York City. This year I merely glance at the cute guy without even a passing thought of following him into the bathroom. Huh, that's a touch of maturity right there. And another indication of how my 'wild oats sowing' is working too. Considering Robby's and my ever deepening love affair, and our recent frequent sexual activities, I don't feel the strong desire or need to pursue some random cute guy into a bathroom. Or is it that he isn't cute enough to pursue. Ha ha, I'm just joking with myself about that last thought.
The fact is I'm sexually content, and obviously Charlie had something to do with that earlier today although the casual sex we had wasn't especially special. Sure it was very nice, but I'm not chomping at the bit to get into it again with him again. He's a good kid and I like him, but compared to Robby, Charlie seems awfully young and inexperienced. He certainly looks young for his age. The best birthday gift I could hope for is Robby popping in at my birthday dinner, yelling, 'SURPRISE!" That'd be awesome. Everyone at the table is laughing and I have no idea why, but I force a chuckle anyway, ha ha. It's rude of me not to engage in the table conversation, so I stop thinking about myself and say to Rider and Bud, "Hey guys, are we having my birthday dinner here?" Wait, that was still all about me. It reminds me of a joke where a guy says to someone, 'I've talked enough about myself. Why don't you talk about me for a while.' Rider says, "Sure, we'll have your birthday dinner here if that's what you want. Consider tonight a practice run." Chubby says, "Good idea. Lets test their birthday cake, just to be sure." They laugh assuming he's kidding, but I know he's serious because he's thinking it'll be a white cake with white icing, and that's our favorite cake. As usual, we're reading each other's minds, and again we exchange smirks.
I stay with the conversation the rest of dinner, only glancing at the cute guy twice. After dessert the real adults are moving to the lounge where there's a live band. They'll have a few cocktails and do a little dancing.
Chubby and I thank the guys for dinner, give the Moms pecks on the cheek saying goodbye, and then we leave with plans to walk the boardwalk and see what happening there. During the drive we talk about what great guys Bud and Rider are. Then we park in our condo's driveway and walk the two blocks to the
boardwalk. Even on Sunday nights there are many people on the boardwalk, so it's not real surprising we don't run into Jesse, Ellie, or Charlie tonight. Chubby does bump into a guy he went to high school with. A guy name Bill Black, who apparently got into a few interesting escapades with Chubby during eleventh grade that they describe what they did and laugh about it.
Bill's a pretty good guy and he hangs-out with us for half an hour or so reminiscing with Chubby and including me in the conversation by making eye contact as the guys tell their exaggerated tales of high school mischief.
When Bill meets up with his girlfriend and her friend, they drift away just as Ronny Tarleckie is punching my arm, asking, "You're friends with Jessica Barns, right?" I go, "Yeah, sort of, why?" He smugly says, "Heh heh, for one thing Jesse's hot for my bod, but that's not why I'm asking. Have you seen her brother tonight, my little faggot friend, Charlie?" Before I can say anything, Chubby turns around with a smile on his face, a smile that I recognize as a dangerous one. He says to Ronny, "I don't care for your choice of words, dipshit." Ronny raises his eyebrows, looks at me, then back at Chubby, asking, "Who the fuck are you?" He doesn't know him because Chubby was shooting the water gun at the cheesy arcade game when Ronny was introduced to me last night. Chubby goes, "It doesn't matter who I am, you're language is offensive." Tarleckie says, "You don't care for the word, 'faggot', is that it? You're gay I assume." Chubby takes a step closer to Ronny, "Doesn't matter if I'm gay or not, it's a pejorative word. Do you have contempt for Charlie?" Ronny takes a deep breath, "No, not really, and you're right, it's a crude reference, and politically incorrect, and all that shit.
After saying that, what business is it of yours?" Chubby chuckles an insincere chuckle, saying, "I already told you, it's offensive to me. Are you incapable of remember things said to you thirty seconds ago, or perhaps you neglected to take your medication tonight." Ronny goes, "No, nothing like that, but this isn't worth fighting over. I'm sorry I offended you. I'll be sure and stop-in at the first sensitivity meeting I come across. Okay?" Not a bad come back.
Chubby mutters, "Yeah, you do that." I gotta admit that Ronny's right about one thing: it's not worth fighting over. I know Chubby's only reason for making an issue out of the word is because I'm gay. I say to Ronny, "Um, anyway, no, I haven't seen Charlie tonight." Then to Chubby, "This is Ronny Tarleckie. He's a neighbor of the Barns family back home in Delaware," and to
Ronny, "This is my brother, Jeff Romero." They nod at each other, then Ronny says to me, "If you see Charlie, tell him I'm looking for him, okay?" To Chubby he says, "Good to meet ya," and he walks off. Chubby watches him walk away, then looks at me, grinning, "He rubbed me the wrong way. I also didn't care for his arrogant tone of voice when he spoke to you." I grin back at him, "Looking for a fight, are we?" Chubby squeezes my hand, "Heh heh, I may have come on a little bit too strong." We start walking and I tell him, "Jessica told me Ronny's a bully as well as an asshole. And Charlie doesn't like him." Chubby goes, "Thank God for that! I'd have felt like a ginormice asshole if you told me Ronny was this friendless sweet kid who just happened to slip-up by using the word 'faggot'." I go, "That's what I should have told you... ha ha. But nope, that's not the case, he's an asshole. And thanks for sticking up for me." Chubby glances at me grinning, "Nobody better say the word faggot around my brother, or if they do they better have a good dentist." I snort a laugh, put my arm across Chubby's shoulders, mumbling, "Tough bad-ass, that's my brother," and we saunter down the boardwalk going no place in particular.
We mutually decide we don't feel like going on any of the thrill rides tonight, so after walking the boards and doing some people watching, we end up walking on the beach sharing cigarettes at eleven-thirty under the stars, and thereby breaking two rules of the beach at the same time. It's reminiscing time for Chubby and me too, and as far as I'm concerned there's no one better to do that with than him. We reminisce about some funny shit, but mostly we talk about the togetherness, the 'us against the world' times we experienced growing up together; the oneness of us. There's no way to describe the depth of commitment we've felt for each other in our preteen years, and most of our teen years too. Working at separate jobs the summer after our junior year of high school, the 'oneness' we had eventually morphed into something different. For the first time in our lives we weren't together 24/7 and we both ran into troubling times, maybe because we were apart. Mostly working as a team though, we took care of the 'troubles' each of us found ourselves in that summer. In both cases it was an ugly affair getting even with our tormentors, but we reestablished in our own minds that you don't fuck with either of us, not if you know what's good for you. And once again we enhanced our preteen self-proclaimed title of greatest best friends the world has ever seen. Only later could be add, 'brothers' to our self-appointed 'title' as world champion best friends and brothers. We laugh about it in a self-deprecating way at times, but who better to claim the title than us? We're in our beds by half past twelve, and asleep shortly thereafter.
Tonight I have that recurring dream about Chubby and me stranded on a desert island, somehow with all the amenities anyone could want. Someone else is on the island with us although I can quite see whose face it is. Waking up to a bright sunshiny Monday morning I think about the dream, realizing again it's a slightly altered childhood fantasy of mine. As a child all I wanted in life was for Chubby and me to be together forever, just the two of us.
That was the ultimate happiness in my mind... a utopia only a clueless child could fantasize about. Now as a young adult, struggling to act like one, I still want Chubby in my life always, but realize it can't be exclusively Chubby and me, hence the mysterious third person with us on my dream island.
By now it's enough to know that he and I are an accumulation of experiences lived together at every age we've lived so far, and that's a lot of Chubby and me. He's a part of me even when we're apart.
From my bed I'm again looking over at my brother in his twin bed across from mine and it gives me chills knowing how much we mean to each other. The palpable connection we have is almost other worldly and yet most of time we just go about life without thinking about it. Oh sure, we're probably more affectionate brothers than most, but we try refraining from getting maudlin
discussing what we mean to each other. We no longer need to even think about it because the specialness is simply there, and we both know it. A specialness that can't be articulated, so we've given up trying to.
Getting out of bed I pick up my pillow and whack Chubby over the head with it, saying, "Get up, bro! I'm gonna teach you how to golf on my friggin' birthday." He rolls over and gives me his smile, the one he only uses for me, and says, "Happy friggin' birthday, Dylan." I go, "Thank you little brother," and he says, "Golf, you say? Yeah, lets hit some golf balls." We recently decided to skip giving each other birthday presents. As a family we've never gone overboard with birthdays and holidays. We don't ignore them, but lack of spendable income over the years necessitated modest gift giving, and not being especially religious we're rarely in church, although we acknowledge Christmas with a tree and exchange a couple of gifts. And the moms still make-up Easter baskets with candy for Chub and me. Then we celebrate with traditional dinners for both holidays, but that's about it. Robby's family, on the other hand, is the complete opposite. They go way overboard with every holiday, birthday, anniversary and anything else they can think of... and that's fine too, for them.
It's only eight o'clock in the morning but we're up because sleeping-in at the shore is dumb. There's too many fun things to do. After our basic bathroom necessities we have breakfast on the boardwalk enjoying the sights, sounds, and smells. There's the smell of the ocean too, including the ever present squawking of hungry seagulls floating in the air. Wildwood is the only place in the world where we have a Taylor Pork Roll sandwich for breakfast. From the grille the round slices of pork roll are served on a hamburger bum with a dab of ketchup. Chubby and I share a bottle of orange juice with the pork roll sandwiches and when finished we buy take-out cups of coffee to drink sitting on a bench at the beach side of the boardwalk looking at the endlessly rolling sea.
This morning we're quiet as we drink our coffees and share a cigarette.
Even this early there are already a few people on the beach. We can just barely hear snatches of their conversations and an occasional laugh riding in on the breeze from the ocean. Done our coffees we dump the cups in a trash barrel, get up and stretch, then Chubby grins, saying, "I have a sneaking suspicion I'm going to be a natural at golf. Lets go see." I shrug, then smile
to myself thinking about Charlie, the king of shrugging. While walking back to get our car at the house Chubby checks his iPhone for the closest driving range and discovers it's inland at Wildwood Crest. The moms moved the Volvo yesterday to let the people on the first floor get their car out, and now our Jeep is parked last in line so we can just drive away. As we do that, I say, "Wish we had a convertible," and we talk about saving money for one. While we talk about that, I can't help thinking about Willie again.
He's offered to give me money any number of times, not that I'll ever accept it of course, but how different our circumstances are. He was born rich and I wasn't, but which of us has had a happier life? Willie gets a new car every year and if his father's pissed-off at Willie and won't buy it for him one year, then his grandfather gives him the car to spite his father. That's a strange family alright. Still, I'd love to see Willie again. I miss him.
At the driving range we both buy a bucket of golf balls and chose a 'driver' from the heavily used ones they offer for rent. We walk down the driving range until we find two spots together that aren't too close to other guys driving balls. Chubby holds up his golf club, mumbling, "Can you believe we
had to leave our driver's license as collateral for this piece of shit golf club?" I shrug thinking about the set of golf clubs Mrs. Wilcox gave me in Georgia. Ryan texted that he'll mail them to me via UPS, but he hasn't done it yet. From his recent texts I get the feeling things haven't blossomed in the romance department between him and Mike. Surprising because they spent a lot of time together the last few weeks I was there. It's funny how thinking back on my time in Georgia, it all seems shinier and better than it sometimes was while I was living it. The side sex with Ryan was pretty special and so were those fucking dreamy submissive trances I'd drift into.
Can't help but wonder if all that is over between Ryan and me now. It's almost impossible to replicate something like that. Or maybe it's just that in hindsight the mind makes it seem better than it was in the first place, and that's why it can't be replicated I spend time imparting my golfing knowledge to Chubby, telling him everything I can remember from what I learned from the golf pro at the Wilcox's private Country Club. Then Chubby tries using the grip and swing pattern I was
taught, but the results are not good. Hoping it'll help I demonstrate by driving a half dozen balls that all land past the 210 yard marker and then bounce and roll even further. "Okay, Chub, you try doing it like that." He tries again without much luck, saying, "It feels uncomfortable swinging the club this way. It's fucked-up, bro!" I take a deep breath, mumbling, "Okay, if that blows, try using whatever grip and swing you feel comfortable with." He's grinning, and mumbling, "Yeah, hopefully you haven't fucked-up my natural swing too much by trying to make me do it your way." I tee a ball up for him, mumbling, "You didn't have much of a swing to fuck-up, but give it a go." "Whack!" he smacks the shit out of the ball while doing everything wrong. I go, "Awesome! Just the way I taught you." He laughs, then hits a dozen good drives in a row while bending his left arm and using a baseball grip on the club... both wrong for a correct golf swing. Chubby stops and says, "Just imagine how awesome I'd be with a good driver instead of this piece of shit." I pat his back, saying, "You're doing good for a twenty year old."
We whack balls out there taking turns in sort of a contest, and work up a sweat doing it. By the time we're done smacking the last golf balls in our baskets it's after ten o'clock and we're thinking it's beach time. Chubby drives us back to the condo while bragging about his unorthodox swing and how it might change the face of golf when he's on the PGA tour. The truth is, I couldn't swing the way he does, most guys couldn't, but it works for Chubby. I really want to follow through learning golf because it's fun now, and a sporting activity we can do into old age. I've gotta get Robby involved too. During the ride back I read a birthday greeting on my iPhone from Robby, one he sent early this morning. It makes my eyes sting. He's so sweet and loving! I text back how much his birthday wishes meant to me. Nothing back from him of course because he's working his ass off on the job right now while Chubby and I are having fun. Gee, Robby is a real hard worker, which I would think is a damn good trait for the head of a household to have.
Back at the condo, changing into swimsuits, we see a note from the moms saying they're with Bud, and Rider having breakfast and they'll see us on the beach at 'our' spot. Ha ha, our spot. There are two birthday cards for me; one from mom and one from Tris. Both cards are humorous and after chuckling at the cards I turn my attention to a wrapped present that's from both of them. I rip off the wrapping paper and find a very cool backpack for college. Gee, I guess they noticed I've been using the same backpack since freshman year of high school. Inside the backpack is a Samsung tablet. Together the moms must have spent over $200, which kinda contradicts what I thought about our modest gift giving. Chubby goes, "I hope I get that too," and I say, "I might as well open the birthday present you got for me too." He looks startled for a second, sputtering, "Bro, we said we weren't..." then he chuckles, pointing at me, "Ya got me for a second there." I say, "You're too easy. I think I'm going to mess around with this tablet for a while." Chubby says, "Don't blame you bro, see you down on the beach a little later."
The condo's WIFI carries out on the deck so I take the tablet out there and no sooner do I sit down, I hear, "Wha'cha got there, Dylan?" Charlie's on his deck, so I wave and hold up the tablet, yelling, "A birthday present."
He asks, "Can I come over?" I go, "If you've got a birthday present for me, sure." Then I wave him on, and check out the apps preprogrammed in Samsung's tablets. Charlie's over in a flash. He gives the tablet a cursory look, then says, "I was down on the beach with Ronny. I can't lose that kid and he's always wrestling with me, getting me in headlocks and shit like that.
He's a strong bastard." I ask, "What'd you tell him you were leaving the beach for?" He shrugs, "To take a crap. Something I hoped he wouldn't want to come with me. I didn't need to take a crap; I just wanted to get away from him for a while. He keeps calling me a faggot, but he won't leave me alone." I go, "Uh huh," thinking I'll need to code in my debit card number into this thing if I want to download from Spottify. I'm sitting and Charlie's standing right next to me bumping against my shoulder. Finally I look up, "What?" and he says, "How about fucking my ass like you did yesterday?" I mumble, "Don't beat around the bush, Charlie, learn to come right out and say what's on your mind."
Then, taking a deep breath, a tiny bit exasperated, I go, "Okay, but it's your turn to top," and he's like, "Ah, c'mon, one more time with you doing it and then we'll switch." I really don't feel like it, but who knows when we'll get an opportunity this good again, so I stand up, "Let's go in my bedroom." He smiles, mumbling, "Hot shit," then he asks, "Can I do your toenails again?" I give him a blank stare, muttering, "What do you think I'm going to say to that?" He goes, "Okay, forget it," and as we go inside, he asks, "What am I going to do when you leave?" I shrug, "I don't know. How about the kid you fucked that one time. Call him up." He shrugs, whining, "He's a tubby, and not sexy at all." In my bedroom I lock the door, then pull Charlie's swimsuit down and see he's shaved his pubic hairs. Before I can say anything, he goes, "I told ya I was gonna do it." I pick up his seven inch penis and stroke it a few times, muttering, "Yeah, you did." He pushes my hand away, pulls my trunks down, then drops to his knees and sucks my cock into his mouth. I mumble, "You're certainly not shy, especially for a guy who's had sex only once before we did it together." Taking my saliva dripping cock from his mouth, he looks up, "You're forgetting Geoff. Him and I fucked each other with dildos about fifty times and then we'd blow each other."
I shrug and he snorts a laugh, saying, "Stop that," then he asks, "You gonna smack my ass like last time?" I shrug and he does his snorting laugh again, and goes, "Stop mocking my shrugging habit." He puts my dick back in his mouth and does some nice cock sucking on it.
It feels good having some cute guy suck on my dick. I run my fingers through his pretty hair, telling him, "You've got pretty hair, Charlie." He takes my now firm cock from his mouth again, holds it in his fist, and stands up, saying, "Yeah, I know, but my mom wants me to get it cut shorter. Would you do it for me?" I mumble, "Yeah, but not now." He strokes my cock five or six times, then asks, "How do you want to fuck me?" I tell him, "Turn around," and when he does I get my left arm around the front of his throat pulling his back against my chest like last time. I like the temporary sense of being dominant. It's a cool change from my normal approach to sex. As I guide the head of my cock to his asshole, Charlie goes, "Do the spanking first." Keeping my arm around his throat, I step back so I can do a full swing with my right arm and it's, "SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK," with Charlie going, "OW! OW! OW! OW!" moving his ass further forward with each smack. I spanked him on the same butt cheek and it's rosy pink now. With the next, "SMACK!" his hand comes back to protect his butt cheek and he goes, "That's enough, that's enough, okay?" Grinning I give him another loud, "SMACK!"
mumbling, "That wasn't much of a spanking, but okay, I'll stop."
His hand's rubbing his smacked ass as he's sniffling a little, saying, "That was a good spanking, but I see online guys getting whipped, if you can believe that." I mutter, "I believe it," and get back to lining my cock up at his asshole. A hump of my hips and Charlie goes, "Oh!" then, "That feels good." His anus is tight, so I ask, "Doesn't it hurt at all being stretched like this?" Charlie shrugs and says, "Yeah, but that's part of what makes it feel good. Also those dildos were bigger than your boner, so ya know."
Whatever, it feels good to me too, really good as I force my boner up his ass. It must hurt him more than he's willing to admit because he's arching his back and trying to pull his ass forward. Wrapping my right arm around his waist I pull him back against my stomach. One final hump and I'm tight against his butt cheeks. He lets out a noisy exhale, grunting, "That hurt a little, but it's starting to feel real good already."
I wait another thirty seconds, and while I'm waiting I drop my hand down to his cock. It's very hard already, up against his belly, but I stroke it a few times anyway. He moans as precum drools over my fingers. Charlie is obviously easily aroused and he likes acting submissive. He'll eventually be some lucky guy's submissive sexy boyfriend. Stroking his cock a few more times has Charlie doing deep breathy moans with his shoulders shuddering against me. We're the same height so my face is at the back of his head against his pretty silky, nice-smelling hair. Hair that I'm apparently going to get to cut again. How very fortunate that Charlie's vacationing right across the alley from us, and eager for me to fuck him. Moving my head to the side I start fucking his ass fast with the sounds of males fucking filling the bedroom. "Slap, slap, slap, slap," and Charlie moaning while struggling in my grasp. Sex with Charlie is sexier than it was with Timmy, but it's still mostly me just getting my rocks off.
Charlie gets into a mantra, steadily moaning, "Ahh," with every thrust up his ass. Of course this feels really awesome on my hard cock, but Charlie isn't sexually arousing to me like some guys are, and consequently I don't feel an orgasm building noticeably like I would if say, Robby or Ryan were plowing my ass. Five minutes of sexual pleasure for sure, but from the five minute mark on I really start feeling it and begin appreciating Charlie's hot body and scent. It soon seems like more than just casually getting my rocks off, especially now that Charlie's squirming against me and sensations all around my groin begin pulsating with sexual pleasure. The tightness of his rectum that's surrounding every part of my moving boner, helped along by the precum my nuts are now putting out, makes for smooth penetrations that have me moaning quietly myself now. Charlie's moans of desire are sexy too and now my climax begins roaring up and I bite my lip to keep my moans at a quiet level, but oh my god this feels good! Like last time, my arm is around the front of his throat pulling him back so far he's up on his toes, my back arching as I'm slamming my cock up his ass, "Slap, slap, slap, slap, slap." Charlie's body gets stiff as he goes, "Ooooh, ummm," bucking his hips and shooting a long steam of cum that goes up and over like a rainbow before splattering on the floor, then another struggle from Charlie as he's humping almost out of my grasp shooting off again, then two little spurts and he gasps, breathing deeply and becomes limp in my arms.
Pushing behind his head he obligingly bends over and grabs his knees. I grab his hips slamming my cock up his ass, desperate to climax. 'Topping' creates different sensations than being on the bottom and now that my cock's taking over my brain I have only one objective... climax. Consideration for Charlie is way back in my mind. I'm thinking only of my throbbing fat boner and his tight cute ass. I'm gasping for breath expending a lot of energy wildly slamming my boner back and forth in his rectum with my balls beginning to ache, overloaded with jism that needs to find a place to land. Then it's on me like thunder and lightning and I do an embarrassing whine before my squeal as a mountain of pleasure sensations bombard my head with a rush of cum firing from my nuts, up my hard cock into Charlie's bowels. Oh what relief as my head goes back and my body shakes while I hump against his buttocks shooting more cum up his ass. A delirious feeling floods over my body as I do calm thrusts in his slippery sloppy rectum. Oh my God, I didn't expect a climax that outstanding. "Ooooh," I quietly moan. That felt so good a rush of affection for Charlie slides over me. A couple of final thrusts and I pull my cock out, then watch my creamy cum drooling out of his ass.
Charlie straightens up and smiles, "That was better than the other times, Dylan. Don't you think?" I nod my head, still taking deep breaths not only because of the rush from my orgasm, but because it's slightly exhausting doing ninety percent of work for that sex act. Makes me further admire and appreciate my boyfriend and some of my more dominant sex partners. There's no real show of affection now that the buddy-sex is over, and we didn't even do foreplay. It's all about the build-up and then the climax for both of us. The climax Charlie had was sexually arousing to me, and so was the inherent dominance associated with topping. I liked it and should do more of it, but it still can't compare to having a hard cock fucking my ass. We clean up as best we can, first cleaning Charlie's cum off the floor; then, in my bathroom, we clean cum off ourselves. Heading down to the beach we're telling each other how 'hot' that sex was.
Chubby carried two chairs to the beach fifteen minutes ago so Charlie and I are carrying the other two chairs and the beach umbrella. He keeps looking back at me as we walk and finally I ask, "What?" and he goes, "Nothing.
You're awesome though." I go, "Everyone tells me that," and he says, "No they
don't." At the beach I spot the rest of the Barns family, plus Ronny Tarleckie who's obviously been waiting for Charlie to return. Chubby gives me a big smile, probably figuring out what Charlie and I were up to. Ronny nod at us, asking, "Where ya been, Charlie?" then, "Oh, and happy birthday, Dylan." I say, "Thanks. Um, Charlie was helping me with these chairs." We exchange 'hellos' with Mr. and Mrs. Barns, then Jesse says, "Happy Birthday, Dylan," and then everybody mumbles it. Awkward couple of seconds.
Mrs. Barns asks, "Which birthday is it, Dylan?" and I go, "The big twenty-one." She looks surprised and Mr. Barns mumbles, "You're gonna need a hellava lot of ID's in bars, son." I shrug and look at Charlie, who grins and shrugs back. He runs the fingers of both his hands up the long hair from the back of his head, announcing to no one in particular, "Dylan's gonna give me the shorter haircut my dear mother's been nagging me to get." I shrug again, mumbling, "Whatever you say, Charlie," and his mother says, "Not as short as Dylan's, Charles, but more like a boy's haircut." Charlie mimics, "More like a boy's haircut," then he says, "I'm twenty years old, mom, and not cute little Charlie-boy anymore." His dad says, "You still have a cute little Charlie-boy type haircut, son," and Charlie mumbles, "Touché, Dad."
We set up the chairs, then Ellie and Chubby lean in together whispering and giggling. I'm sitting and glancing occasionally at Charlie who sharing a beach blanket with Ronny. Ronny has very hairy and substantial looking legs, and a hairy chest. When Ronny's not looking Charlie rolls his eyes at me to show he's not happy Ronny's here. I say, "Wanna go in for a swim?" and both Charlie and Ronny says, "Yeah." As they get up, Jesse says, "I just got out of the water, Dylan, like ten minutes ago. Ya better watch out for the jelly fish." Oh balls! I hate jelly fish so I'm making a face, like, 'Ewww' and Charlie pats my shoulder, "My sister's breaking you 'nads, dude.
There's no jelly fish." Jesse and I exchange smirks and as I walk by her, she holds up her hand and I smack it with mine. For a girl she's fun and very cool.
Charlie runs into the ocean the way Chubby and I do it, but Ronny walks in one step at a time suffering shock after shock at the temperature change his body's sensing. When Charlie and I are in water above our waist we dive in and come up ten seconds later wiping water from our faces. Charlie watches Ronny wading slowly towards us, quietly saying, "Asshole Tarleckie was on my deck first thing this morning. I've been stuck with him all day."
Charlie anticipates I'll shrug at that, and we shrug together, chuckling. I go, "Fuck, make the best of it, Charlie. Maybe today's the day he won't be an asshole." He mutters, "That'll be a first," as Ronny's just now reaches us.
He still hasn't dived under the water yet. He grumbles, "Fucking water's cold for this time of year." I splash water up on his hairy chest, saying, "It's a nice temperature if you dive under. Your body will get acclimated to the temperature change all at once." Instead of diving he slowly sinks into the water until just his head's sticking out. I say, "You're almost there," and put my hand on his too big head pushing it under water. He comes up sputtering, "You prick! You're begging to get your ass kicked." I shrug, muttering, "Maybe, but not by you, Ronny, no fucking way." He has nothing to say to that.
We mostly body surf, but not for long because the water's fairly calm making for unimpressive waves this morning. As we're walking up the beach to our chairs I see the moms and their fiancés just now walking onto the beach.
Chubby's spreading sun screen on Ellie which reminds me to get my sun screen bottle out of the beach bag and do the same for Charlie. Ronny mutters, "Sun screen's for pussies," which is what Charlie said yesterday. When I've covered Charlie with sunscreen, he does the same for me. By now everyone's settled in their chairs and the older adults get very chatty with one another, paying little attention to us younger adults. When I was spreading sun screen on Charlie's legs, up near his groin, I watched the lap of his swimsuit begin forming a tent until he grumpily says, "I can do my legs, Dylan!"
Giving him the tube of sun screen I chuckle while watching three teenage boys walk by. They're all working hard at looking cool, trying for blasé when they're actually excited to be at the shore. One of them is kinda cute with his light red hair recently cut and carefully spiked on top. I tap Ch arlie's shoulder, asking, "What do you think of the redhead's hairdo?" Charlie looks over, mumbling, "Too short."
It's a normal beach day with some dozing off, body surfing, and walks on the beach gawking at our fellow human beings, astonished at the variety they come in. Ronny's like gum on Charlie's foot going everywhere he goes.
There's no mention of the 'faggot' word from good ol' Ronny this morning and I'm
beginning to wonder about his sexual orientation. It's the way he looks at
Charlie and touches him whenever he can. Charlie's always pushing Ronny's hands away from him, muttering, "No touching."
Everyone's on their own for lunch today so around one o'clock Charlie, Ronny, and I hit the boardwalk for Mac's pizza. We eat inside because the sun's blindingly hot today and it's almost air conditioned inside. I say 'almost' because the entire front of the restaurant is open. Eating a slice of pizza, Ronny says, "Dylan, I'm curious, um, do fag.., um, gay guys like you and Charlie automatically, Ahh, hook-up." Charlie asks, "Whaddaya mean?" and Ronny goes, "Have sex simply because you're both gay. A straight guy and girl don't automatically have sex just because they're both straight, ya know what I mean?" I say, "Gay guys, or gay girls for that matter, don't automatically have sex either." He finishes a slice of pizza and licks his fingers. I hate that! Ronny says, "Gay sex, what's it feel like? I mean, like what's it feel like having another guy's dick up your ass?" Charlie says, "It's different than having your dick in a girl. I think there are a lot of sensitive nerve endings in your rectum." This conversation was started by Ronny, adding to my suspicious about him. He's apparently interested in Charlie, sexually I mean, and he's sneaking up on the idea of maybe getting Charlie to suggest he and Ronny try a gay sex act together.
Charlie changes the subject though, and talks about how his Philadelphia Phillies suck as bad as my Boston Red Sox. Ronny's not contributing to the sports talk though and when he gets a chance he gets back on the topic of sex, asking Charlie, "How would you know what it feels like to fuck a girl?"
Charlie says, "I read about it. How about you, Tarleckie, you ever get laid?" To Ronny's credit he admits, "No, I'm a virgin I'm sorry to say," then chuckling like he's joking, he says, "Hey; maybe I could fuck you and break my cherry." Charlie snorts out a laugh, "My advice is don't hold your breath waiting for that to happen." Ronny says, "How 'bout you, Dylan? Want to feel my big dick up your bung hole?" I mutter, "Ditto what Charlie said." I'm actually starting to feel sorry for Ronny. He's not attractive so he's had no luck with the girls, and in fact I think he'd rather do it with a guy anyway, but he's having no luck with guys either. It's probably not easy being him.
Ronny's been going out of his way to hang with Charlie, but at the same time he acts homophobic with the 'faggot' references and he likes bullying Charlie by getting him in a headlock and messing-up his hair. Other times he'll put his arm across Charlie's shoulders saying something like, 'Does this get you turned-on, Charlie?' And now this blatant attempt to get Charlie talking about sex. Homophobes are sometimes hidden homosexuals who repress their desires as long as they can. Must take up a lot of energy keeping those impulses under control. Finally Ronny comes right out and says, "I might even let you put your dick up my butt, Charlie, if you ask me nicely."
Charlie laughs, "Don't hold your breath waiting for that to happen either." That poor bastard, Ronny, couldn't be more conspicuous about it now that he's finally found the guts to confront his tendencies. The problem is, like I said, he's no more attractive to guys than he is to girls. Yeah, I'm definitely feeling bad for the guy now.
As we all take a last slice of pizza, Ronny says, "Oh, you're too good for me, huh Charlie? I'll bet you already stuck your dick up Dylan's butt.
Pretty boy Dylan, right?" Charlie swallows, then goes, "No, that's not right, and why won't you get off this subject?" Ronny, defensive now, goes, "You're the homo, Charlie, not me. I was just trying to fit in by talking about a topic you two are interested in. And you shouldn't hold your breath either.
Not if you're waiting for me to let you stick your pencil dick up my ass."
Charlie looks at me, asking, "Can you believe this shit?" I shrug and he can't help snorting out a laugh, mumbling, "Stop mocking my fucking habit. I like to shrug." Ronny goes, "Are you two making fun of me? Fucking queers!" I go, "Get a fuckin' clue, Ronny! Charlie and I have a thing about shrugging, if you must know. It hasn't a damn thing to do with you, and I don't care for your slurs about our sexuality any more than my brother does."
We silently finish draining our cups of Coke and head back to the beach with Ronny walking next to Charlie saying, "Okay, you win, Charlie. I'd really like to see what it's like." Charlie, who's been taunted by Ronny for years, finally has the upper hand. He plays dumb, "You'd like to see how what's
like?" Ronny glances at me, then whispers to Charlie, "Having a dick up my ass." Charlie goes, "whose dick?" He's intentionally being obtuse; making Ronny spells it out exactly, "I'm asking you to fuck me, Charlie. Jesus, how much plainer can I make it! Ya know, strictly to satisfy my curiosity.
I'm a curious guy." I take a seat in my beach chair watching Charlie let Ronny flounder around basically nagging Charlie to fuck him. Once Ronny let go of his inhibitions I guess he figured he'd go all in, even to the point of humiliating himself. It doesn't look like Charlie feels bad for Ronny like I kinda do. Probably because Ronny's been bullying him for years.
Later when we're in the water swimming around, Charlie asks me, "Should I fuck him? What do you think, Dylan?" I say, "I wouldn't, but then I don't have to put up with him as a neighbor. You'd shut him up once and for all with his 'faggot' taunting if you did screw his ass though." Charlie asks, "Would you be there with me if I was to do him?" Ronny swims up, asking, "You guys talking about me behind my back?" I go, "A little paranoid are you, Ronny?" He says, "Just for the record, I was pulling your chain about you corn-holing me, Charlie. I assume you know that." Charlie goes, "Yeah sure, you're kidding. Okay, I'll give your ass a hard fucking, just this once," and Ronny says, "Really? Um, it might be interesting at that. Let me think about it." Charlie and I shrug at the same time shaking our heads; it's like Charlie said earlier, 'Can you believe this shit?' More discussion leads to this: Charlie's family, plus Ellie, are going to a sushi restaurant for dinner tonight. Charlie can't even imagine eating raw fish, so he's not going. Ronny's gonna buy the condoms and Charlie's going to fuck is ass, but only if I'm there for morale support. We're meeting at
his condo around seven o'clock. The worm has turned. A surprising reversal of fortune right before my eyes. I don't think Charlie can believe it either, but we can't talk about it because Ronny's never more than a foot away from Charlie. I give Ronny credit for having the balls to finally express what he's probably fantasized about as long as he's known that Charlie was gay. Now we'll see if he goes through with it.
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. 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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