Laramie Chapter 6
For those familiar with my writing, this is the chapter that steers Laramie toward the characters in the Jackson Bend series.
If you have enjoyed my work, please consider supporting Nifty with a donation. https://donate.nifty.org/
The previous chapter took place two months ago, September 2015.
6
**November 2015
**Laramie Jenkins (26)
Charlie Marx (27)
Laramie
"Ohhhh, fuck!" I cried out as Charlie pushed his stiff dick all the way into my ass. "Do it, man!"
Charlie held my shoulders down as he thrust his erection into my hole. My cock was hard enough, and it was being ground into his bedsheets. It had been months since I had any type of casual sex, and I hadn't been fucked in more than a year. Man, I loved a hard-on stuffed into my ass. The way Charlie was drilling me, he had gained much more experience since our youthful days in high school. I liked his cock then, but now that it was in my ass, I was thoroughly enjoying this reconnection. Maybe it was because we were both half-drunk that it all felt so good.
"God, Larry! I needed this. Fuck."
He pushed into me even harder. His hands on my shoulders shoved me down into the bed. I gasped for air to the side and groaned as he rammed me from behind. Our naked bodies smelled of sweat and alcohol and cigarette smoke.
"Fuuuuuuuuuuck," I uttered. "Fuck me."
"Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!" His interjections were a metronome; he thrust into me in sync with each "yeah." Pushing, shoving, pounding, thrusting, writhing. "Yeah."
Charlie dropped onto his arms. His chest now pressed into my back. His breath was at my ear. Our stacked bodies caused the bed to rumble. His dated furniture creaked in our sexual rhythm.
"Keep fucking me, man."
"I am loving fucking you, Larry. Fuck, this feels so good."
It took a couple of minutes before Charlie's groans began to noticeably crescendo. Just like in high school, he was quick to get off.
"Are you gonna come, Charlie?"
"Fuck yeah."
"Come inside me, man."
"Fuck yeah."
"Fuck me, Charlie!"
"Fuck yeah! Fuck yeah!"
"Come in me!!!"
"I'm fucking coming. I'M COMING!!!!"
His bush shoved against my cheeks a final time and he froze with his cock deep inside my channel. Charlie was responsible enough to wear a condom, and I knew it was being filled. He stopped thrusting; he just kept his cock deep inside. His groan gradually deescalated from a howl to a light wail. He panted as his weight completely collapsed on me. He just caught his breath for a moment.
He pulled his erection from me and ripped the condom off, flinging it to the floor. In a fury, Charlie whirled me over.
"Your turn!"
Before I could even respond, my flesh was deep in his throat. He consumed me almost to the extent a dog would maul a helpless victim.
Charlie
Fuck, I was loving this. It was hard to believe it had been ten years since Larry and I had been close and explored our sexual needs as teenagers. He had grown into an unbelievably hot piece of male beef. Maybe it was the margaritas, but I was into him. My orgasm was incredible. Now I wanted him to have one. I loved listening to Larry.
"Charlie, oh fuck. That feels good. Yeah man, suck me."
His dick in my mouth was wonderful. I loved tasting the slight saltiness of his crotch. I inhaled the masculine scent of his bush, his balls, his taint. Larry was all man.
"Ohhhhh yeah."
My tongue massaged the underside of his cock. That made him cry out louder. I knew he would be impressed at the oral skills I had developed since high school. I was proud of what my tongue could do, and it was driving him wild. Larry's fingers ran through my hair as I continued to devour his hard anatomy.
"Oo, Charlie. That's so good. It feels so fucking good!"
I bobbed on his shaft. His hands gripped my head and pulsed with the motion. His flesh felt so wet, so lubricated with my saliva. I fondled his balls as I continued to suck on his rigid meat.
Larry howled for several minutes as I continued to service him. Even following my climax, his sexual cries made my own dick hard once again. I repositioned my body to dry hump his leg as I continued to suck his red pole. Even after all these years, the two of us were a good fit. My fingers dug in below him and gripped his ass cheeks.
"Fuck! Oh man. Suck me, Charlie. SUCK me!"
I moaned into his dick as a reply to his request.
Larry's hips began to buck. I knew he was getting close. He began to fuck my face rigorously.
"Gaaaahhh! I'm gonna come! Yeah! UNGH! UNGH! UNGH! UNGH! UNGH! UNGH! UHHH! Uhh. Ooooooooohhhh, yeaaaahh."
My mouth was full of Larry's hot cum. I swallowed some but knew I would savor it for several minutes more. I thought that was hot. I still hadn't come down from this sexual high.
It was a shame we lived several states away from each other.
Laramie
"Happy birthday, Charlie," I said, as he flopped down next to me.
Charlie chuckled. "Nice gift," he smiled. His naked hip was next to mine.
"Why aren't you spending it with your family?"
"I am. Tomorrow is the big day with relatives. My parents had some function to attend tonight. They'll be home at some point here."
That sent a shiver up my spine. I didn't have a great track record with sex. I'm amazed they didn't walk in on us.
I thought it was curious that through that wild romp, we didn't kiss. In high school, we kissed like mad. This was just sex.
`It was good to see Roy and `Snorkel' again," Charlie said.
"It was. It was nice that they came back into town to see you."
"Yeah. Well, it's all of 50 miles for one and 30 for the other. It's not like they had to fly in."
"I hadn't seen them in eight years," I observed. "I can't believe they both smoke. It kind of sucked that we had to sit outside the bar on the deck. Reminded me of my dad. Mom makes him smoke on the front porch or out back."
"It was slightly chilly, but not too cold."
"Roy has really put on weight. Not to put him down or anything."
"You, on the other hand, are a hot stud," Charlie told me.
I laughed. "I don't know about that."
"When you showed up in the black cowboy hat, my dick got hard instantly."
"Had you planned on us ... hooking up tonight?" I said, looking at two naked men's bodies on the bed.
"Not exactly. It's always a possibility, I suppose. When I saw you, I totally wanted to."
"Think the guys knew we were going to do it?"
"Are you out to them?" he asked.
"I haven't seen them in eight years, so ... not on my end, at least. You didn't tell them?"
"Why would I do something like that? That's a personal thing."
"We each had half a pitcher of margaritas. It's not like our thinking was all prim and proper."
Charlie laughed. He reached over to hold my dick, which was limp by then. His wasn't rigid, but still looked fairly lengthy. Charlie wasn't Freddy, but I still remembered having strong feelings for him in high school. I didn't really feel any of that tonight. We didn't "make love." It was just sex.
"Anyone serious in Chicago?" I asked.
"Nah. It's more casual. That kind of thing. There's this app called Grindr. It helps me find someone when I feel I need a little action." He paused. "I guess that isn't a real thing probably here in Eureka. But who knows? Maybe there are closeted cases here in town and this is how you could meet them!"
"I don't have apps on my phone. I barely get reliable cell service. People are starting to give up their phones and just use their cells. Living on a farm, we still have a landline."
Charlie turned to me. "Get out of this town, Laramie."
"I know I need to."
"Just do it."
"I'm actually going to take a trip to look at some other towns. Mom and Dad don't understand why I want to see these places with no real plans, by myself."
"Where are you considering?"
"Nothing big like New York or Chicago. I'd be lost in a crowd there. But, I ... you'll laugh."
"Try me."
"I've been looking at a few towns that I feel have some character, basically because of their architecture."
"Really!!? I never took you as an architecture buff."
"Not so much skyscrapers and modern stuff. I am drawn to historical buildings. Beautiful brickwork, wooden interiors. Churches, courthouses, colleges, classic houses, that type of thing. They just ... I don't know ... they just have a ... a soul, character. I'm not sure why, but I like that."
"Sounds like a start." He squeezed my dick one last time, then let go. "Sounds like you'd have a better chance of finding Mr. Right in one of those places."
Mr. Right. I still felt Freddy was my Mr. Right. I hadn't been in love since him. I had just settled for sex on occasion. Tonight was fun. It was actually hot. I enjoyed being loud. My orgasm was intense. But it was just sex.
The front door to the house slammed. Crap!
"Uh oh. Your parents are home."
"No big deal."
It was to me. I was lying naked with a man just up the stairs from them. I suddenly felt sticky and sweaty and ... lube-y.
Jumping up, I started grabbing my clothes. Charlie nonchalantly poured some bottled water on a cloth on his nightstand and tossed it to me. I wiped sticky parts of my anatomy and made sure nothing was dripping from my ass.
I was fully dressed while Charlie barely had his underwear on. My look probably indicated I wanted him to move it along. I inspected myself in the mirror. I tried to position every piece of clothing, every hair, every eyelash to look like we had not just had sex. I guessed I looked okay, but I felt I was radiating the smell of sex, and police sirens were whirling over my head indicating our actions.
We casually walked downstairs. I made simple pleasantries with his parents.
Charlie
I wished Laramie would spend the night. My parents wouldn't care. I knew they wanted me to settle down and find someone, but I still enjoyed playing the field. Larry was plain hot. We could have sex hourly during the night and I wouldn't have tired of it. I felt so strongly for him almost ten years ago. I felt there was something still there, but ... we weren't the same people we were when we were teenagers.
"How was your shindig?" I asked my folks.
"I wouldn't call it a shindig," Mom chuckled.
"It was a dinner with about 12 people," Dad said. "It was fine. Pleasant. More of an attempt to `be seen' in support of a bond we are trying to get passed in the county."
"Hm." I couldn't have cared less. The one good thing about them being gone was that I got to fuck Larry. I still wanted to do it again. Was it the margaritas that had me all horny, him in that cowboy hat or his killer chest? My mind went all over the place trying to figure out how to keep him here.
"I suppose I should go," he said.
"We could go out and get drunk. You know, it is my birthday and everything."
"We've had enough. I barely feel okay to drive. I still have somewhat of a buzz going."
"I'll walk you out."
We stood in the driveway.
"I enjoyed seeing you again."
"I'm glad you called," Larry responded.
"Sure I can't talk you into spending the night?"
"With your parents in there? Not a chance."
I frowned.
"Remember when I was in your driveway when we were kids?"
"When you came all over me, you mean?"
I laughed. "Yes! That was the first time I had ever come in front of a guy. Then Phillip catches us in the barn a few months later. He..."
I stopped. Damn. Why did I bring up Phillip?
"Um. I'm sorry, Larry."
"S'okay," he softly said.
I didn't know what to say after that. I hugged him. We just held each other a moment.
"You helped make my birthday special."
"I'm glad," he said.
Laramie kissed me on the cheek. "Goodnight, Charlie." He looked me in the eyes. "Safe travels home. Happy birthday, again."
**Three weeks later, November 2015
**Laramie Jenkins (26)
Murphy Adkins (31)
Laramie
Thank heavens we were closed tomorrow for Thanksgiving. All I felt like was eating and watching the Dallas Cowboys play football. If I stayed on the couch all day that would be fine with me.
The store was buzzing with people grabbing items for the holiday. Not that Eureka could truly buzz, but we seemed busier than normal, nonetheless.
We seemed to be getting shipments in more than usual. Higher demand this time of year, plus everyone's schedules were upended with the holiday in the middle of the week.
Hell. Here came another.
"Do you have a moment to check this in?" the driver asked me.
"Yeah, sure. Glad to help ... uh..."
"Murphy. Sorry, not wearing my nametag today."
Murphy had a cuteness to him. He was older than me, but I wasn't sure by how much. Lugging boxes all day, he had pretty nice arms. I loved his moustache too.
Damn. He saw me looking at him. Surely, he didn't think I was checking him out. Damn.
I started counting boxes. When I glanced over at him, I thought I saw him looking at me. Was he judging me? Was he mad that I had insinuated something by checking him out? He walked close to me.
"Do you have a dolly handy? I've got several boxes deep in the truck. A second set of wheels would move this along faster."
"Uh. Sure. I'll grab one."
I located our dolly in the storeroom and moved toward the loading door. He had a ramp pulled down from the back of his truck. I could hear him muddle about toward the deeper end. I rolled the dolly up to him.
"See these two stacks?" Murphy said. "These are all yours. Kind of heavy. Hate to stack them too high."
"Okay."
For a few minutes, we moved the stacks of boxes carefully. Their size and weight made it logical to really only do two at a time. I rolled my loads down the ramp carefully as to not let it get away from me. I leaned back to stay in control.
When we were in the truck for the last load, Murphy rested his dolly.
"You're Larry, right?"
"Right."
"I ... uh ... I heard some things about you, Larry."
Damn. What was this? I could tell I didn't like it.
Then Murphy put his hand on my shoulder.
"I was curious."
"Oh?"
"I heard you were one of them funny boys."
"I don't think of myself as a comedian," I flatly said, putting my last boxes on my dolly.
"Not what I meant, act'ully."
His hand ran down my arm.
"I thought ... maybe ... you'd enjoy a little comp'ny ... sometime."
"Did you?" I said. As handsome as he was, I didn't like how this was playing out.
"You know. Just some fun. You know what I mean."
"No. Tell me what you mean." I was wondering if he could say it out loud.
Murphy
Damn. Larry was resisting my come on. Maybe I heard wrong. What if he thought I was gay? What if he told others? No one knows I like to suck dick. I had fucked up.
"Well. Um. I dunno. You know. Just ... some fun."
"Where exactly?" Larry pressed. "What is it you want to do?"
I didn't like saying things out loud. It made me sound gay. I didn't want to come off gay. I wasn't really that gay; I just liking sucking dick from time to time. Damn. I didn't feel right about this.
His look told me he could sense my uneasiness. I think I pissed him off. Maybe he wasn't what Bobcat said he was. Damn.
"What exactly had you heard Murphy? From whom?"
"Uh. Never mind. I pro'ly misunderstood. Don't matter much. Forget it."
Please, forget it. I felt awkward.
"Sounds like a good idea," Larry said, kind of sounding pissed.
He picked his last two boxes up and began rolling them to the ramp. I watched him. Damn I wanted his dick. His ass looked good working with that dolly too. I must not have worded it right. Or I had heard wrong. I bet he had an awesome dick. I wondered how big it was. Damn.
Laramie
So, people are talking about me now. Swell. It's funny, I thought he looked kind of hot, but as soon as Murphy propositioned me, I didn't like how it played out. Something seemed off. I think he really wanted to give me a blowjob. Or wanted one. But it almost felt like a trap too. I just didn't like it. It wasn't even up to what I would call casual sex. Two strangers. I didn't like it.
"Guess this is the last of it," Murphy said, trying to sound more macho.
"I can sign if you need it."
"Right here."
As he handed me the clipboard, I noticed his arms again. Had he been kind of nice and asked to go out for drinks or something next week, I might have taken an interest. I just didn't like his approach. I guessed I still had a few standards within me, slim as they were. He just hit the right buttons to turn me off. I didn't even realize I had those.
Funny boy indeed. Fuck off, Murphy.
"Okay. Well, have a Happy Thanksgiving." He nodded. "Sorry if I said anything wrong."
I nodded without saying anything.
I wondered if I came off as a prick. He was just showing me attention. Why didn't I like it?
Maybe it was because I knew we wouldn't go anywhere. Some man-on-man action on the downlow didn't interest me, actually. I guessed I was wanting something more. I was longing for an emotional connection. To whom? Here? In Eureka?
I needed out of here.
**Thanksgiving 2015
**Laramie Jenkins (26)
Barry Jenkins (51)
Laramie
The house had already started smelling wonderful. I helped Mom with the pumpkin pie this morning. The turkey was in the oven. Once Aunt Amelia arrived, I stayed out of her and Mom's way. I was glad she was able to come. She wasn't able to visit much when Mom's health was not good. Aunt Amelia was recovering herself from a broken hip from a fall. She was eight years older than Mom. I still felt sad that both of them had lost their parents. I was 16 when my grandparents on my mother's side passed, just months apart. At the time, I thought of them as old, but they really weren't that far along. Grandma Jenkins was arriving just before dinner. That would be nice.
Dad rarely spoke of his father. They only corresponded via mail. Not even email or phone calls. At least, not that I knew of. They had divorced before I was even born. I never met him. Dad seemed bitter about it, so I had always left it alone.
I watched him go out the back door. I'm sure he needed another smoke. In November, he opted for the sunshine rather than the shade of the front porch.
The three adults were in the kitchen. Grayson was visiting a friend in the afternoon. I was by myself in the living room watching sports. I was perfectly content. I took a moment to text "Happy Thanksgiving" to both Freddy and Charlie. I think I liked this texting thing more than email. Short, sweet, to the point.
The Cowboys game hadn't started yet.
I thought I heard Aunt Amelia mention Phillip's name. We hadn't really discussed my brother's suicide as a family. We just "dealt" with his things and sort of lumbered on in a fog following. I was interested in what my parents might actually say. They seemed to have bottled their feelings inside. I stood in the doorway to the kitchen listening.
"It's going to be so odd without Phillip here," my aunt said.
"It is. It just won't seem quite right," my mother replied.
"I still can't quite understand what was happening with Phillip," Aunt Amelia said.
"I guess he was wrestling with something we didn't know about," Mom said.
"It just isn't right. The Lord took the wrong one," Dad said.
What?
Was my dad implying he wished I would have died instead of Phillip? It sure couldn't be Grayson; he was adored by everyone. My father would rather have Phillip alive than me.
"Indeed," my mother muttered. "Indeed, he did."
"Really!!?" I screamed. "So, I guess you'd rather wish I was dead apparently! THANKS! Thanks a lot."
My parents whirled toward me, not knowing I was hearing the conversation. My mother looked flustered as to how to create some excuse as to that wasn't what she meant. Her struggle in doing so conveyed to me that she didn't have a real answer. My eyes shot bullets of flame to my father.
I then stormed through the living room and slammed the front door.
I was seething. I was in no mind to drive — and had nowhere to go. I stomped to the barn. The November chill felt good as my skin was set afire with rage. I went over to the cabinet where I had my carvings. I picked out my latest work and selected the knife I wanted to use.
As I whittled at the wood sculpture before me, breath from my nostrils sounded as heavy as if a horse were breathing in the vicinity. It was surprisingly that I didn't whittle through my hand in my anger.
My thoughts were so black, I tried to think of nothing. Not Dad. Not Phillip. Not Thanksgiving. I just carved. I became transfixed with my creation. I found beauty in it. It calmed me. After 30 minutes or so, I was focused on nothing but my artwork in maple.
It wasn't long before I heard footsteps behind me. I wasn't going to look. If it was Grayson, he would have said something by now. The sounds of steps indicated it was my father.
Barry
By the looks of wood shavings, my son had been at this a while.
I didn't know how to apologize. There wasn't a way to explain away what I had foolishly said. I didn't mean I wanted to choose Phillip over Laramie. I just wished I had Phillip back. The Lord shouldn't have taken Phillip. I failed him. And I didn't know how to relate to my middle son anymore. I ... the homosexual stuff baffled me. I just couldn't find the words to say to him anymore. I felt a wall between us.
I sat down.
"Son..."
"Don't, Dad. Just ... don't."
He picked up his black hat and put it atop his head, tilting the brim to cover as much of his brow as he could. I felt he thought this blocked as much of me out of his field of vision as he could.
His work looked smooth and elegant, although I didn't know what it was.
"Watcha carvin'?"
"It's abstract. Not supposed to be anything in particular."
"Isn't abstract what artists do when they aren't good at the real thing?"
I tried to say that light-heartedly, but Laramie turned to look at me. If eyes could utter obscenities, I would have been dripping in vulgarity.
"It ... it looks nice. It's pretty. Very ... curvy."
My son slightly nodded acknowledging my comment but said nothing further.
I watched him work for a few minutes. I didn't know what to say. I knew he didn't wish to hear anything from me. I could have attempted an apology, but I felt I would have botched it to where it didn't sound sincere. He was already livid.
"We're sittin' down to dinner at 5:30. Your grandmother just arrived."
"'k."
I stood and started to walk away. I turned to place a hand on my son's shoulder. He kept carving.
"Don't think about what I said. You don't have it right. I just wish Phillip was back."
I walked inside to visit with the others. I could see Grayson pulling his car into the driveway.
Laramie
I turned to see my father exit the barn. By his wave and the slight crunch of gravel, I determined Grayson was home. I was in such a foul mood that I hoped my father didn't tell Gray I was out here. I would be lousy company.
My father wasn't a good conversationalist. I didn't expect him to come out and give me a speech about how much he loved me. I knew that wasn't in him. I guessed I stopped him from trying to explain, but ... what was to explain? My parents didn't care about me. They didn't love me. They would trade my life to get Phillip back.
I hated it here.
I hated my home.
I hated Eureka.
I hated my life.
I didn't really like me very much either.
I hadn't cried the entire time in the barn. I made fists to not let myself start.
Laramie Jenkins (26)
Grayson Jenkins (23)
Laramie
I felt bad for answering my grandmother's questions with short answers. My mother placed her hand on my shoulder as she went to refill the gravy boat. I wasn't sure if that was somehow an apology or an attempt to let her know she felt sorry for me.
Grandma Jenkins had asked me when I was going to find a girl and settle down in a place of my own.
Dad stiffened at the question just staring at his plate of food. I took that as the realization that my parents weren't comfortable enough to tell my grandmother the truth.
As I looked at my grandmother, I could see my father look at me. His eyes pleaded with me to not tell her the truth.
"I dunno, Grandma." I went silent again. I didn't say anything else the entire dinner.
I could feel Grayson watching me. He looked at the television in the living room to see who scored a touchdown. The fact that I showed no interest alerted him to something was up.
We cleared our dishes, and I loaded Aunt Amelia's, Grandma's and mine in the dishwasher. They thanked me.
"I'll have my pie later," I softly said, not looking at anyone.
Grayson
I saw my brother grab his denim jacket by the door. He put his cowboy hat on his head and walked out the front door.
"I ... I'll be back," I said, darting to go join him.
My grandmother caught her words in surprise at my sudden exit.
I let the screen door slam behind me.
"Lar'! Wait up."
He stopped. He did not turn toward me.
"What's going on. What's up with you?" I asked when I had caught up with him.
"I don't want to say."
"Where you headed?"
"Just walking."
"I'll join you."
"I'm not really good company, little brother."
"I'm every bit as tall as you."
It was the first time I saw him smile since I had been home.
We walked for ten minutes saying exactly zero words.
"I'm moving."
"Where?"
"I don't know," he said. "I just got to get out of here."
"What happened?"
"It's just time."
"What happened?"
"There's nothing for me here."
"What happened?"
"Nothing."
"What happened?"
"I just want to –"
"What happened?"
My brother looked at me. "Mom and Dad said they wished I would have died instead of Phillip."
"They said that!!?"
"They didn't word it exactly that way, but it was what was implied."
"Maybe you heard it wrong. C'mon, Lar'. You know they love you."
"DO THEY!?"
"Of course, they do."
"Since Dad found out I was gay, we hardly talk. I'm sure Mom thinks I'm going to hell — and I probably am — but ..."
"Hey, hey, hey! Stop."
I grabbed my brother's wrist, and we turned to face each other.
"I think it is good that you are finding your own place in the world. I think it's a good thing. But whatever our parents are feeling or thinking or ... handling poorly ... I think you're great. As your brother, I will always love you."
"Well. That's one."
I slapped him on the arm.
"Get serious."
We both smiled.
"When do you plan to move?"
"Well. I have a week of vacation time I have to use. I'm leaving in a week to look at a few places. I'm just going to drive to a few towns and see what I like. It won't be Kansas, that's for sure."
"I think a change will do you good."
"Me too."
"And I hope you find somebody. Somebody who loves you for who you are."
"We'll see. At least there are more fish in the sea if you live in a lake than there are if you live in a small pond."
"Big city then?"
"No. Nothing like that. I just ... you know, a bigger city than Eureka."
"Well, that's not hard."
We laughed.
I put my arm around my brother and steered us back toward the house. "Let's go get pie."
* * * *
Look for a new post on the blog — timothylane414stories.blogspot.com — titled "Family Dynamics."
Email: timothylane414@gmail.com