Date: Tue, 3 Nov 2015 10:29:56 -0500
From: MGTBILL@aol.com
Subject: DYLAN'S GEORGIA VACATION Chapter  25

DYLAN'S  GEORGIA VACATION


Chapter  25


by  Donny Mumford


After parking at the fair grounds we've got quite a hike back  to the
entrance, and we're not the only ones. There's a long line of cars and  pickups
behind us parking and unloading passengers who, like us, will be walking  a
half mile before getting in line for tickets. Robby, Spider, Chubby and I are
 taking our time. There's not a hint of a breeze on this hot, humid, and
sunny  day in Georgia. A hot day, but even so many of the people around us
appear to be  in a hurry, some of the people are jogging towards the ticket
booths. Chubby  asks, "Why are all these people running?" I mumble, "Jeez, I
don't know, maybe  only a certain number of people can be admitted per day."
Spider says, "I don't  think so. The fair grounds consist of something like a
hundred-and-fifty acres."  We walk in silence for fifteen minutes, the sun
blaring down relentlessly, then  Robby goes, "Jesus, finally! There's the
entrance." Fortunately there are a  dozen ticket windows so the lines are not
too long. Surprise,  surprise!


We're all sweating in this ninety degree heat, then standing  in a line
getting bored, I ask Chubby, "Ya got any factoids for us, bro?" He's  like,
"Um, yeah. This is kinda weird, but the words 'listen' and 'silent' use  the
exact same letters." Spider mumbles, "That's kinda weak, Jeff." So Chubby's
like, "What have you got?" and Spider says, "Well, 'race car' spelled
backwards  still spells 'race car'." I see Chubby nod and mumble, "That's an old
one. Do  any of you numb nuts know what the only word in the English language
is that by  switching the first letter to the last letter it spells the past
tense of the  word?" This is a very old factoid of Chubby's from way back,
so I know the  answer. I mutter, "Of course! It's the word 'eat'. If you
move the 'e' to the  end you get 'ate', which is the past tense of 'eat'."
Chubby looks at me,  asking, "How the fuck did you remember that? That's a
factoid I used in fourth  grade." I shrug, "I never forget anything you say, bro"
We're next in line now  as we hear a person from inside the tickets booth
tell the people in front of  us, "Yes, credit 'cahds' are accepted, No extra
'chahge'." Robby and I exchange  'looks' as Chubby goes, "Apparently there's
a Bostonian in Georgia? That accent  is unmistakable." Spider asks, "What
the fuck do you people have against the  letter 'r'?" Chubby goes, "Some
people from parts of Boston simply can't  pronounce that letter. It's genetic."


Chubby's next to buy a ticket  and I'm behind Chubby kinda staring at the
man in the ticket booth. There are a  couple of weird things about him,
starting with his buck teeth and accent. He's  also wearing the biggest and
thickest black-rimmed eyeglass I've ever  seen. Chubby's holding out seven
dollars, asking the man, "Where in Boston  are you from?" and the man says,
"Dawchestah." Chubby nods his head, "Ah,  Dorchester, huh? Wha'cha doing in
Georgia?" The guy takes Cubby's seven dollars,  muttering, "Avoiding snow storms,"
then he asks, "Do you want a bracelet for the  amusement rides. Twenty
bucks lets you ride all day on any ride you want."  Chubby gives the guy a
twenty dollar bill and gets a plastic bracelet. My turn  now and I'm looking
right into the man's blue eyes that are distorted by his  thick eyeglasses
making his eyes look almost liquid, like ice cubes floating in  a gin and tonic.
Strange! I fork over twenty-seven dollars and get my amusement  ride
bracelet. Waiting for Spider and Robby, I ask Chubby, "Did you see that  dude's
eyes?" He's like, "What dude? I was looking at her," and he points to a  slim
girl walking away holding hands with a guy. Chub says, "Androgynous, both  of
them," and Robby joins us, asking, "How 'bout that man's eyes!" I go, "They
 look like they're floating in a glass of water." Robby says, "Yeah, which
reminds me I'm just about dying of thirst." I mumble, "Yeah, me too. I also
need  a fuckin' hat or my scalped head is gonna get a sunburned."


There's concession stands along both sides of the walk leading  into the
fair. We get in line at a fresh-squeezed lemonade stand. The three  people
behind the counter are working their asses off squeezing lemons and  passing
out the drinks. The drinks are so cold the cups have frost around the
outside. My mouth's watering until Chubby goes, "Oh shit! Check out the bald guy
in the middle. He has a constant drip of perspiration dropping off the end of
 his nose and each drink get either two or three  drips." We gawk at the
man, then together leave the line with Spider mumbling, "Fuck that." Robby's
wiping perspiration off his forehead, saying, "So far this has been great
fun,  everything I hoped a country fair would be." We make our way into the
fair  grounds and away from the congested entrance area. I'm like, "I was
getting  claustrophobia back there," Robby holds my hand for a minute or so and
I don't  even think he realizes he's doing it. Letting go of my hand, he
points, saying,  "There's a cold drink stand with a fairly short line." We
walk over to the stand  selling iced watermelon drinks. Really? They cut big
watermelons into slices,  throw out the part with seed, then cut up the pulp
and that goes in a blender,  add a little water that's probably sweetened,
and blend until the watermelon  pulp is liquid. They pour it over crushed ice
in plastic cups and sell it for  $2.00. Chubby says, "It probably cost them
like thirty cents, tops, to make  those drinks." I go, "Yeah, and on the
Wildwood boardwalk if someone made the  same drink they'd charge twice as
much." We all get a cup of iced cold  watermelon juice and gulp it down. It's
delicious so we all get another one.  Robby drinks his too fast and gets a
Popsicle headache. Oooh  shit, they're intense! I'm rubbing Robby's temples as
Spider goes, "Come on,  boys, there's a lot to see and do at a country fair."


Feeling slightly refreshed we wander through the fair until we  get to
'manure manor', which is what Chubby nicknames the animal displays.  There's
like a quarter mile of livestock fencing areas for all kinds of animals,  some
of the them wearing blue ribbons. I go, "Lets see if we can tell the
difference between the first place animals and the losers." We can't, and
Spider's like, "Jesus! I can't take this smell any longer!" Chubby goes, "What  the
fuck? This fair was your idea!" Off we go among the hordes of people
getting  close to the amusement park. Robby complains, "This place is worse than
Disney  World. Look at the lines for the rides." Okay, we're all a little
grumpy. I'm  like, "Think positively, Rob, things have got to get better, don't
they?" We've  been here an hour and a half by now wandered round making
snide remarks about  displays for cattle, goats, horses, hogs, swine, then
displays for the best  embroidery, crocheting, and every other kind of sewing
imaginable, as well as  displays for best canned goods, pickles, baking,
jellies and on, and on, and on  it goes. Probably a big deal to the winners, but
not that meaningful or  interesting to any of us. By now we're hungry and
more than little grumpy,  especially Spider and Chubby who have been unusually
quiet. Those two guys began  sobering-up while waiting in line for
watermelon drinks and since then they've  been dealing with killer hangovers from
last night. Chubby's bitching, "Too many  fucking people here, the blaring sun
is too bright, and this freakin' heat  blows!" I say, "We need something to
eat."


Fortunately there are six million food booths. Unfortunately,  the first
one we walk up to sells deep fried foods only. The bizarre menu  includes deep
fried bubble gum, deep fried butter, yes butter. Also deep fried
peanut-butter-banana-cheeseburgers, deep fried chicken fried bacon, and twenty  other
deep fried specialties of the house. I'm like, "Can you believe this
shit?" Bizarre, but the place is doing a brisk business. The deep fat  friers are
bubbling and the cooks are sweating to beat the band. Deep fried  anything
is not what I'm looking for in this heat, so we pass up the deep  fried
foods and settle for a hot dog stand. We all get a hotdog and heap  on
condiments. Hard to fuck-up a hotdog. Big burp from Spider as I spot a cart  selling
sunglasses, t-shirts, hats and travel-size items like miniature  toothpaste
tubes, hair gel, shampoo. Things an overnight visitor to the fair may  have
forgotten to bring with them. I buy a hat, small packets of Advil, and
bottles of cold water. The Advil and water are for the hung over among us,
namely Chubby and Spider. Wearing my new white baseball cap with the logo of the
 fair on the front, I walk over to join the guys who are looking at a big
map of  the fairgrounds that's screwed onto a telephone pole. There's a star
indicating  where we're at, as well as, where everything else is in relation
to where we're  standing.  Nudging Chubby, I go, "Here ya go, bro, this
will help a  little." His eyes light up as he takes a bottle of water and two
packs of Advil  swallowing all four pills with half a bottle of water.
Spider's looking at me,  and I go , "What?" then smirk giving him the other two
Advil packets plus the  other bottle of water. That should physiologically
lift their spirits until the  Advil actually kicks in.


Robby goes, "Let's ride the roller coaster. Maybe it'll cool  us off."
Spider's studying the map, "The amusement park's that way,". Well, we  can see
the Ferris wheel in the distance, so Chubby mutters, "No shit,  plus we
walked by it a half hour ago." Still grumpy. We head off in that  direction
skirting the back side of 'manure manor' again, holding our noses this  time.
There are over forty rides, plus all the rip-off carnival games you'd  expect.
Dumb things like water pistol races, the burst balloons with darts game,
toss quarters to land on little rounded plastic containers, skee ball, and
many  others. None of which we spend a dime on. Of course there's the familiar
food  stands selling the junk you get at a carnival: cotton candy, candy
apples,  funnel cakes, and stuff like that. None of which we spend a dime on
either. One  stand is selling turkey legs. Jesus!  One hot dog is a small
lunch, but not  being in the mood for a turkey leg we stick with what we know
and get  cheeseburgers, fries, and fountain Cokes. After eating again
everyone's feeling  better so we get in line for the roller coaster. Spider's
excited now, "I'm  starting to remember the things I did as a kid. This roller
coaster is awesome!"  After a ten minute wait we're on the ride. Robby and me
in one seat, and behind  us Chubby and Spider. The ride last about a minute
and it's an okay roller  coaster, but we've all been on better ones,
including Spider. So we're not  impressed with that either. Three of us are giving
Spider 'looks' of  disapproval and he's frowning, mumbling, "Maybe it was a
different coaster ten  years ago," then he points at a ride, saying, "That's
new."


It's a ride called Skyflyer. This ride, unlike the roller  coaster, looks
like one bad-ass scary ride. There's this fat circular tower  about sixty
feet high. At the top of the tower is a big round metal disc. It's
circumference is about forty feet and hanging from it are chains attached to  seats,
two person seats every three feet around the circle. The seats hang  thirty
feet down from the disc, and are the same distance off the ground. As we
approach it the top half of the tower begins dropping down slowly until the
seats are low enough that people can get off and new victims can get on.
There's  a disclaimer for the ride on a big board at the entrance. It informs
everyone  that this ride is not for the feint of heart and no one under
fifty-two inches  is allowed on it. There's a list of ailments, like heart problems,
that if you  have any of the dozen health problems they strongly recommend
you avoid the  Skyflyer. Then there a list of disclaimers indicating they're
not responsible  for anything basically. The line isn't absurdly long, and
we're healthy, so we  shrug and get in line.


It's maybe a fifteen minute wait  before Robby and me get strapped into one
of the seats. Chubby and Spider are in  the seat next to ours and we
exchange smirks like, no big deal. When everyone is  strapped in securely the top
half of the tower moves up, up, up until it makes a  'clunking' sound at the
top as if maybe it didn't exactly hook-up like it's  suppose to. We're
hanging straight down thirty feet off the ground, and  thirty feet from the
top. Nice view of the fairgrounds until the top starts  slowly spinning and our
seats drift outward a little away from the tower. It's  going around slowly
at first, then picks up a little speed and we start to feel  the wind in
our faces. Round and round we go faster and faster as our seats get  further
and further away from the tower and higher and higher in the air until  the
chains and the seats are stretched straight out from the circle, level with
it sixty feet off the ground and spinning fast. It's hard not to scream
looking  at the thin chains keeping our seat from flying the fuck out into the
'manure  manor', which I can see from up here. Robby's gripping my arm so
tightly his  knuckles are white. I'm holding my hat looking over at him seeing
his eyes are  closed. The big baby! Chubby and Spider are both yelling and
holding their arms  up instead of holding the seat belt in front like me.
This fucking thing is  really spinning fast. Someone way across from us hurls
up their guts and it  flies out to drift down on unsuspecting individuals who
are soon looking up  waving their fist as I hear Chubby laughing his ass
off.


I'm not sure how long the ride went on for, but it was longer  then
necessary as far as I'm concerned. The circle begins slowing down and the  seats
begin losing attitude until we're all just hanging straight down again,  then
the top half of the tower begins lowering the seat to the ground. People
getting off the ride look frazzled, or petrified, or like me... trying for
blasé  while feeling dizzy and unsteady on my feet. Chubby comes over, "Lets do
it  again!" and Robby says, "Um, lets not." Spider and Chubby get at the
back of the  line as I tell them, "I'm taking Rob on the elephant ride."
Chubby laughs  because that's a kiddie ride. We don't go on the kiddie ride
though. We go on  the Pirate Ship which looks harmless as it swings back and
forth, but once on  the ride it gets to swinging out there further and further
until it feels like  your stomach gets left behind. Why do we humans subject
ourselves to things like  dangerous amusement park rides? Not only subject
ourselves to them willingly,  but pay too much for the rides and wait in long
lines for a one or two minute  ride. Whatever, we ride the tilt-a-whirl,
then buy a freshly made lemonade from  someone who doesn't have sweat dripping
off their nose. Finding a shady spot to  drink the lemonade, Robby's still
complaining, "I'm dripping wet. It's too  fucking hot and I can't keep
enough liquids in me." Rolling my eyes, I mumble,  "Fuckin' hot alright," and t
hen light a cigarette to cool things  off.


Pointing out a ride called Cyclops, Robby says, "That look  like a bitch
too. When I was younger I liked those kind of wild rides a lot more  than I do
now. Dodger and I were always looking for the most outrageous rides we
could find on our family trips to Six Flags." I go, "Never been there, but
Chubby and I wanted to go." He says, "There's some serious rides there, let me
tell ya." I shrug, "So I've heard, but our moms always had to work on
Saturdays  and  Sundays being their only day off they weren't too excited about
the  drive to Six Flags, and then walking around all day. They're on their
feet six  days a week as it is. That's why Chubby and I  never nagged them to
go."  Robby asks, "How'd you guys do it? I mean, your moms were always
working by the  time you got home from school, and then you guys left for school
before they got  up." I shrug, "I don't know, but I was always with Chubby
so everything seemed  great to me. I loved our childhood and, if I could, I'd
live it all over again  exactly like we did it the first time."


Robby touches my arm, "Hey, check him out." I look over and  see a guy who
could be anywhere from seventeen to twenty years old. Cute guy  talking to a
girl with a ponytail who I sincerely don't think is cute at all.  The guy
however is definitely Robby's and my type. He's slim, wearing shorts  with
good legs, not too hairy but a little hairy. He's maybe a little taller  than
us with some kind of brush haircut that looks very boyish, and he's got
that wicked cute face with an awesome grin. Robby goes, "Look at that shit.
He's  trying to make nice smiling and all, but she's giving him nothing but
attitude."  We watch the kid's smile turn to a frown as Robby says, "He's
taking her bull  shit... that's sick!" I slowly shake my head, mumbling, "What a
fucking waste.  We could adopt him and treat him like a prince, but nooo, he
likes pussy." Then  the cute guy turns around and walks away and we can
hear the girl screech,  "Don't you fucking turn your back on me, asshole!"
Parents with little kids look  over at her, so she yells at them, "Mind your own
business!" and stalks after  they guy. Robby and I exchange smirks, then I
go, "So many cute straight guys  getting pussy-whipped. It's a fucking
shame. And when you think about it, there  are probably eight or nine cute
straight guys for every cute gay guy. Seems  unfair, ya know?" Robby says, "I'd
love to do it with a straight guy sometime."  I shrug at that and Robby grins,
"Have you done it with a straight guy?" I act  incredulous that he would
ask me that, "Me? No, of course not!" although I have.  Well, at least they
claimed to be straight at the time.


Finished our smokes and lemonade we get up and wander around  doing what I
do on the Wildwood beach... look for age-appropriate cute guys.  After ten
minutes Robby says, "Holy shit, there aren't many cute guys here." I  go,
"There aren't a lot of cute guys, gay or straight, anywhere. Ain't we  lucky?" We
laugh, but I'm guessing Robby's thinking what I am... yeah, we are  lucky.
Robby says, "Not that looks are everything," and I'm like, "No, of course
not. Um, how many un-cute guys have you done it with?" Robby chuckles,
"Probably  the same number as you," and I ask, "What would you assume that number
would  be?" Robby looks at me smirking while making a circle with his thumb
and  forefinger. I say, "Zero, huh?" and Robby chuckles, then says, "We're
shallow."  Actually I do remember one un-cute guy I did it with... my sex mentor,
fat Carl.  He wasn't cute in any way. I don't want to bring that sad story
up  though.


We keep walking and I point, "Over there, the guy in the  middle." Robby
looks, "He's not cute!" and I'm like, "What? You don't think he's  cute?"
Robby looks again, "He's alright, but too tall." Giving up on the boy  watching,
we check out some more of the displays, then go on the  Ferris wheel that
wicked high, and old enough to put the thought in the  back of everyone's
mind that this thing could collapse any minute. Then there's  more standing in
lines for rides as we bump against one another on purpose with  Robby
occasionally holding my hand. We ignore someone saying, "Fags" one time,  and
later we hear, "Look at the queers." That time a girl's voice said, "Oooh,
they're so cute though!" Finally Chubby texts me that they found a place that
sells Red Brick Ale. In our travels around the fair grounds we've seen a
number  of places selling beer, but they all have signs, 'WE CHECK ID' so Robby
and I  didn't bother going in. Chubby tells us where the place is located
and since  Spider is twenty-one we'll get served there. The directions seem
simple enough  but it takes Robby and me twenty minutes to find the place.
We'd never have  found it if we hadn't asked directions from two different guys
with  walkie-talkies and wearing t-shirts with 'Events Staff' on the front
and  back.


Finally I hit Robby's arm, saying, "I see the sign Chubby told  me about.
We came at this the wrong way in a big circle. When we started if we  walked
left instead of right it was like four minutes away from where we were."
It's an open-sided tent with a Red Brick Ale sign blinking above it. Never
heard  of Red Brick Ale, but I could go for some really cold beer. Beer because
we're  thirsty and also we need to get into more of a partying frame of
mind. It's so  fucking hot and humid we're all sweating like mad and my clothes
feel damp. We  walk up to the crowed tent hopefully seeing no kids. Lots of
kids getting under  foot on the fair grounds. Kids not looking where
they're going, plus little kids  in strollers crying and their mothers using the
stroller as a weapons to get  where she want to go. In the tent we're out of
the sun's glare and the first  person I see is a loud-mouth women who I'd
guess is about thirty years old.  She's with either her boyfriend or husband
pounding down beers with a stroller  between them. In the stroller a
toddler's screaming or crying, it's hard to tell  which. Robby and I roll our eyes
at each other and scan the crowd looking for  our boys. Then I spot Chubby
and Spider at the other end of this big tent.  They're sitting with strangers
at a table for eight.

We make our way over for one-arm hugs and a pat on the back  from Spider
and Chubby. There are seven people at this table already, so when  Robby sits
down there's no seat for me. Chubby pulls over a chair from the table  next
to our's with a man yelling , "Heh, pal, that seat's taken!" Chubby smiles
at him, saying, "We'll just borrow it if that's okay with you. Thanks!."
Nobody  at that table has the balls to follow up their initial attempt at
saving the  seat, so it's all good. I partially squeeze in between Robby and
Chubby although  my chair is still out in the aisle a little bit and the busy
waitresses bump  into it every time they go by. Robby and me are introduced to
a guy and his  girlfriend who are sitting to the left of Spider. They've
attending the fair  every day, both are college students at Texas Tech, and
they're engaged to be  married. The girl, Marsha, features herself a comedian
and the life of the party  as she has something to say about everything and
everyone. She also has one of  those big voices that cuts through the crowd
noise and there isn't a curse word  she isn't aware of as she sprinkles them
in liberally along with her  observations. Also she's drunk. Loud mouth
Marsha is a petite cute little thing  with small breasts looking like she's
sixteen years old. At first it's kinda  funny hearing the things that come out
of her mouth because she looks so young  an innocent, but then quite quickly
she becomes monumentally annoying. She  ignores Robby, me, and her
boyfriend directing her comments mostly to Chubby and  Spider. They're a receptive
audience and have observations of their own, often  causing her to go into an
exaggerated braying laugh. Big wide mouth on that  little girl with maybe
twice as many teeth as most of us have and she shows all  of them plus a lot
of her pink gums when laughing.


Robby whispers in my ear, "If you didn't know better you'd  expect a two
hundred and fifty pound drunk lumberjack to be doing that laugh."  As he says
that she's doing another big loud uproarious braying laughs at  something
Chubby said. I'm staring and frowning at her until a waitress  interrupts
asking if anyone needs anything. Marsha's big voice overrides  everyone's as she
orders another round, meaning two pitchers of beer for the six  of us. She
has ID although I can't believe she's twenty-one. Her boyfriend,  Dick, is
quiet as he pays for whatever she orders. He's also kind of sexy. A  tall,
barrel chested guy with wide shoulders, conventionally good looking with
longish light brown hair and pretty green eyes. When I'm not frowning at Marsha
I'm peeking across the table at Dick. Spider's telling an outlandish story
about  his summer bar tending job. A job he doesn't have of course. More
braying  laughter from Marsha as Robby and I exchange looks and then we both
bark out a  laugh at how foul mouthed and ludicrous Marsha is, making Dick
look over at us.  He senses we're laughing at her and not with her. Dick and I
make eye contact  for longer than we should. Huh, weird he would do that.
The beer comes in  plastic pitchers along with new plastic cups for Robby and
me. Also a plastic  bowl of salsa and a pile of tortilla chips. I don't like
salsa and tortilla  chips, but everyone else does. Marsha leans over the
table with her skinny  freckled arm and scoops up a lot of salsa on a chip,
then puts the whole thing  in her mouth and talks loudly as she chews it
without closing her mouth.  Spider's subtly batting away little particles of
tortilla chips flying from  Marsha's mouth. Ghastly!


Sneaking another peek at Dick I see he's peeking at me. Huh,  he and Marsha
have supposedly been going together for five years so it's strange  that
Dick would be interested in me, if he is interested in me. It's hard to  tell,
but if I didn't know he was in a five year straight-relationship with
Marsha I'd be pretty sure he was coming on to me. There's always the chance I'm
projecting of course, but with Robby right next to me what difference does
it  make anyway? Plus he's too big and not what I'd call 'cute', but those
fuckin'  eyes of his are something special! Competing with Marsha's loud
mouth are the  couple next to Robby. They're carrying on a conversation as if
they're at a  private table for two. From their accents I'm guessing they're
not from around  here. Thick New York accents from both the man and woman,
who I'd guess are both  in their early thirties. They're drinking what looks
like warm beer from the  same pitcher that's been between them since Robby
and I sat down. Hell, the  pitcher of beer I'm drinking from isn't all that
cold and we just got it. The  beer in their pitcher looks like it's gone flat
as well as  warm.

Robby's off to use the outdoor toilet as Chubby's explaining  what's wrong
with deep fried butter and deep fried bubble gum, as if that needs  an
explanation. He claims southerners consider both a delicacy, which is absurd  of
course. I'm eavesdropping on the two New Yorkers who are speaking English,
although I'm not sure what they're saying. The man, who has a long head and
a  receding hairline, says, "I've always been partial to lascivious Jewish
shrinks,  and that goes back as long as I can remember." The woman, who's
really too heavy  to be wearing those spandex shorty-shorts and the small top
that shows way too  much of her pudgy belly, smugly asks, "That's your
specialty, huh?" He's like,  "No, lascivious Jewish women are my specialty,
shrinks are a subspecialty."  Their faces are inches apart as she asks, "Had I
been a lascivious Irish shrink,  would you have loved me anyway?" He touches
her nose quickly with is finger,  smugly saying, "The answer is yes, but I
think you've just coined a tripartite  oxymoron," and she goes, "Oy fay," and
they kiss. I got the 'moron' part, but  that's about it. Robby squeezes the
back of my neck as he's sitting down,  saying, "Nice outdoor toilet, babe,
surprisingly clean." I nod, saying, "I need  to take a piss, but I'm gonna
wait awhile and get some more of this warm beer  down first." The waitress
comes around again and Marsha's all over it, ordering  more pitchers of beer and
more chips and salsa. She orders and Dick pays with  fifty dollar bills.
Interesting couple as Dick again makes fleeting eye contact  with me, rubbing
his nose this time. Is that suppose to mean  something?


I hear the New York woman ask, "Was that a treacly smile  you just gave me,
Bob?" and he says, "What do you think?" Oh my god I can't  stand them, or
Marsha. I try not paying attention to either, telling Robby,  "It's hot and
crowded in here, huh?" He moves his head close to mine, "Yeah, and  I swear
to god I'm gonna punch-out these two pretentious New Yorkers in about  two
fucking minutes if they don't shut the fuck up." I ask, "Do you have any  idea
what they're saying?" He goes, "Nope! I'm not sure who's worse, them or
that big mouthed, Marsha." I mutter, "It's close." We try ignoring everything
except each other. We drink the warmish beer and talk about what we'll do
when I  get home for a weekend in August. He says, "I'm gonna skip some of
dad's  meetings so you and me can go out to dinner at least a couple of times.
Remember  our Italian restaurant?" We're drinking the barely chilled beer
without thinking  too much about it. It's so hot today that drinking
something is pretty much a  necessity. I think Robby looks sexy with his new
haircut, the hairs in front wet  with perspiration and sticking to his forehead.
Reaching over I swipe the wet  hairs to the side and he gives me one of his
incomparably cute grins. I like  watching his sexy lips move forming words as
he talks, and overall I could just  eat him up with a spoon. Our heads are
close together as we talk quietly about  us, saying crazy stuff that makes us
chuckle and smile. The loving vibrations  between us is an impossible thing
to describe, but we feel it and I can almost  see it. It creates a
shimmering quality in the air between us like high  humidity. Fuck, maybe it is the
humidity, but I like to think it's our mutual  love altering the very air we
breath. I murmur, "Being this close to you Robby  it's hard for me to keep
my hands off you." He playfully pulls the visor of my  cap down, quietly
saying, "Tonight I want to feel your hands all over my naked  body," then
whispering close to my head again, he adds, "Your tongue too." I'm  getting a
hard-on, whispering, "Lets make love, sweaty like we are now. We'll  shower
together afterwards."


Breaking into our private world, Chubby and Spider get up  announcing to
everyone in the tent they need to take a piss. Chubby squeezes my  shoulder,
asking, "How ya doing, bro?" and I nod, "Better, Chub, how 'bout you?"  He
goes, "Except for being so sweaty it feels like I just got out of a pool, I'm
good. Be right back," and he gives my shoulder another squeeze, smiling and
 saying, "Love you, man." I watch him and Spider walking out as Marsha
yells at  Robby and me, "Which one of you two homos is Spider's brother?" We
both look at  her with expressions like we just stepped in dog shit bare foot.
Robby finally  says, "That'd be me. Spider and me are tight, bitch." I
didn't expect that! He  said it without any humor or friendliness in his voice.
Dick licks his lips,  then mumbles to Marsha, "It's Jeff who has the brother,
not Spider." Her  freckled skinny arm shoots out again and she globs some
salsa on a chip and  plops it in her mouth, saying to Robby, "So you were
being a wise-ass, huh?"  Robby goes, "Exactly!" Dick grins, looking at me and
nodding his head a little.  Neither of them know we're gay so that 'homo'
comment was a generic slur like,  'you two assholes or 'you two nitwits'.
Clueless Marsha points at me, yelling,  "So you must be the fabulous brother
Jeff's bragging about?" I go, "Ah, a clever  deduction. Yep, I'm the fabulous
brother." Another salsa-laden chip goes into  her wide mouth and she starts to
say something, but a piece of tortilla chip  much be caught in her throat
because she makes a gross long gagging sound, her  big mouth obscenely open,
both hands going to her throat. She stands coughing as  Dick dead-pans in a
low bored voice, "Oh my, does anyone one know the Heimlich  maneuver?"
Marsha's face is red, veins protruding from her neck as she does an  exaggerated
hacking cough, stomping her feet while pinwheeling her arms. I mimic  Dick,
saying, "Oh my," and Robby and I burst out laughing as Dick grins. Without
getting up, Dick absently pats Marsha's back. She has tears running down her
 face by the time she's done choking and eventually hacks up some mishmash
of  tortilla chip and salsa. Spitting the gross matter into a napkin, she
sits down  screaming, "For all the help you three assholes were I could
fucking choked to  death." Dick pours her some beer, "Here, drink this."


That's all we hear from Dick. The New Yorkers watched Marsha's
dancing-coughing-fit in horror. They exchange 'looks' , then get up and scurry  away,
hopefully for good. Robby and I smirk at each other still giggling at
Marsha's claim she almost choked to death. Her breathing wasn't impaired at all,
which is what I watched for. She was taking big breaths in-between her
choking,  so she wasn't in any danger. Dick knew it too. She was just being her
overly  dramatic self in her usual 'look at me' manner... it's all about me,
goddammit!  Speaking of overly dramatic, Chubby comes back from the outdoor
toilet raving  about how clean it is, like he'd just witnessed a miracle. He
excitedly adds,  "It's like a regular bathroom with running water and
electricity. Smells good in  there too." He's grinning saying all that as if it's
a toilet from outer space.  Marsha's pissed-off that nobody's paying any
attention to her, so she loudly  tells Chubby, "I'm choking to death and none
of these dick-weeds does anything  to help." Chubby sits down muttering, "No
shit?" and then she's leaning over  putting her arm around Chubby's waist,
cooing, "You'd have helped me though,  wouldn't you, Jeff?" Chubby leans his
head back, away from her head, saying,  "Nah, probably not, Marsha, I don't
know shit about that hemlock thing, or  whatever it's called." Taking her
arm away and sitting up straight she acts  pissed-off as Chubby holds up his
index finger like, 'Give me a minute here',  and adds, "What I might have
done is called 911 for you, ya know? Assuming I  thought of it fast enough, of
course." She's royally pissed-off now, "You're as  bad as the rest of these
ass-wipes." Chubby gives one of his big grins, saying  sweetly, "Fuck you,
Marsha," and Dick, who's been observing their exchange with  a pleasant grin
on his face now laughs out loud. Marsha's giving Chubby the  finger with
both hands, pumping her fist up and down. Very lady like. She's so  cute and
little, but her voice, her foul language, and bizarre behavior  contradicts
her appearance. Spider comes back and sits down, saying, "What'd I  miss?"
Chubby starts describing Marsha's strange behavior and she yells, "Hey,  I'm
sitting right here! Stop talking about me like I'm an inanimate object."
Dick rolls his eyes as I get up, mumbling, "I gotta take a piss."


Robby rubs my shoulder as I mumble to him, "Be right back."  It's just as
hot outside the tent, plus outside there's also the sun's blaring  down. The
outdoor toilet does looks very nice from the outside. It's like a  small
A-frame cottage with two front doors, one for 'cows' and one for 'bulls'.  Huh,
I wonder where the toilet is for humans? I go into the one marked 'bulls'
and flick on the light. An exhaust  fan starts up almost soundlessly.
There's a sink and a regular looking toilet. It smells pleasant and looks clean,
but it must be a hundred and ten degrees in here. Then, 'Aaaah,' the relief
of  taking a piss when you really gotta go. Nothing like a beer piss. The
door opens  and in comes Dick. What the fuck? He's a big dude making it seems
crowded in  here now. Without saying anything he stands next to me taking
out his dick and  nudging me over a little. He starts pissing, then glancing
at my expression of  shock, he mumbles, "You should lock the door if you
want privacy. I locked it  for us." I'm literally speechless. His cock is about
as long as mine but with a  lot more heft to it, a lot more! He reaches
over to take my left hand and pull  it over, saying, "Hold this for me," and he
places the palm of my hand on his  dick taking his hand away. "Grab it or
I'll be spraying the walls." Closing my  hand on his cock, still holding my
own, I'm basically flabbergasted staring up  at him like a fool. He goes,
"Give it a squeeze." I've got my fist around it now  with my thumb and fingers
not reaching around his fat hose.


He's acting like this is the most normal thing in the world.  His arm goes
across my shoulders pulling me against his side as we continue  pissing. I
still can't speak, feeling like a little kid next to him. He's a good  seven
inches taller than me and twice as wide without being fat. Flat stomach,
big arms with thick wrists and huge hands. A submissive trance just flows down
 over me and I do a quiet gasp while my piss stream runs out. He murmurs,
"Feels  good, doesn't it?" I assume he means taking a piss, or maybe he means
holding  his cock.  All I'm capable of doing is looking up at him
quizzically. He  has a neutral expression on his face, asking, "Cat got your tongue?"
I go,  "Huh?" and I almost moan at the delicious submissive dreamy trance
I'm sensing.  It's so strange and yet it feels good to just float without
worrying about  anything and knowing I won't float up too high as long as I
hold onto this fat  rope. He leans his head over and down, ordering me, "Leave
it out!" meaning my  cock obviously, and I get a tingling down my spine
making me shudder a little,  still holding both our dicks.


His pee stream dries up and with the arm across my shoulders  he pulls me
against him chest to chest, dick to dick or fist to fist, as he's  sternly
saying, "Lift your head up, boy!" I look up at him as he leans his head  down
and covers my lips with his, then his tongue, feeling refreshingly cool, is
in my mouth sliding against my tongue. He has a full beard and even through
he  shaves it feels like rough sandpaper against my lips, cheeks, and chin.
He moves  his head as he kisses and when he breaks off the kiss there's a
lot of his  saliva in and around my mouth. He goes, "Humph," sneering at me,
then another  even wetter kiss and I feel his fat cock bone-up in my fist.
He mutters a  command, "Stroke it," and with my eyelids drooping I stroke
both his boner and  my hardening cock together. Reaching down he unbuttons my
shorts and roughly  pulls them and my underpants down past my buttocks. I
gasp as he pushes the back  of my head, bending me over towards the door.
Dropping both cocks my forearms go  against the door to keep my face from
smacking against it. He's pushing and  holding my head against my arms while his
other hand gropes my buttocks, then a  finger goes up my ass with the hand he
has at the back of my head sliding down  to now grip the back of my neck,
squeezing it until I grunt, "Ow,  umm."


The wet head of his boner presses against my asshole and he  says, his
voice sounding horse, "You okay with this, boy?" In a foggy trance I  shake my
head 'no', but grunt, "Un huh," and the head of his cock forces in past  my
spinster muscles stretching my anus and making me grunt again, "Ahh! OW!" His
 left hand keeps pressing my face against my forearms that are flat against
the  locked door, his other arm goes around and under my belly, both of us
bent over  at the waist. He lifts me a little until I'm up on my toes and
then his boner  steadily makes it way up my ass with me groaning, "Ow, ahhh,
ow, oooh." When his  damp pubic hairs are against my buttocks he gives a
final hard hump lifting me  up off my toes. His sweaty crotch is tight against
my buttocks holding me off  the floor for a few seconds grinding his crotch
in a circle, pulling me against  him. Then he sets me down and without
hesitating pulls his boner back creating  more pain in my rectum, then there's a
hard thrust right back up my ass with  some extra umpth when his groin hits
my butt cheeks. He humps against me again  while tightening the hold at the
back of my neck, it's like a vise gripping my  neck. Another tight hump
against my buttocks, then his very hard fat boner  withdraws slowly again, then
gets steadily pushed right back up inside me with  that extra hump at the
end. No steady rhythm, just deliberate hard thrust with a  second's delay in
between each thrusts. Sweat's running down my sides under my  t-shirt and
dripping off my face with the pain inside my rectum reluctant to  lose its grip.
It's slow to leave, but after five thrusts up my ass it does  begin fading
and I gasp in relief.


Looking down I see my cock is boned-up very tightly sticking  straight out
and throbbing, so it's my cock that begins sending out sexual  pleasure
signals first, and then my stretched anus begins sizzling with pleasure  making
me moan, "Oooh, mmm, ooh," then the nerve endings in my rectum turn-on  all
at once and I moan louder, "Aaaah, ooooh!" He grunts doing the same final
hard hump against my buttocks while his arm under my belly lifts me up on my
toes again. Dick's breathing noisily but not moaning. Continuing the tight
grip  at the back of my neck, pushing my face against my arms, he tightens
his hold  around my belly with his cock impaling me and then lifts me off my
feet entirely  and grinding against my butt cheeks moving his boner slightly
in my ass getting  another moan of pleasure from me as my feet dangle two
inches off the floor. I  can't remember ever being as dominated as this as a
spurt of precum sprays out  from my pee slit, "Mmmm, oooh, aah." My
shoulders shutter as he sets me down on  my feet again while pulling his boner back
sliding the fat thing over my  prostate, "Aaaaah, oooh, fuuuck."


After three minutes or so of his deliberate trusts up my ass,  the
thrusting becomes quicker so I suppose the feeling of orgasm is building in  him now
too. It's coming on me hot and heavy as I squirm helplessly in his  grasp.
I'm keeping my moans of sexual pleasure down by pressing my mouth against
my arm which is slippery with saliva by now. Dick's thrusts become almost
violent with him lifting me up on my toes with each thrust, pulling me onto
his  long hard fat boner even as he's thrusting it inside me. Faster and
faster,  harder and harder his engorged boner slides very tightly up my ass with
me now  openly writhing with sexual pleasure, whining with it and almost
delirious with  the need to climax. I'm hanging on the strong arm under me with
him gasping now  too with every hump of that fat log inside me. My back
arches with every thrust  at my desperate need to cum and that's all I'm
thinking about, but it's not  quite there yet. It's another minute of me whining
with desire and him lifting  me off my toes until he finally lets out a long
low moan with a desperate hard  hump against my buttocks, him shaking a
little as I feel his piercing cum stream  smack off the walls of my bowels. I
squeal into my sloppy arm with cum pumping  out of my quivering pee slit to
splash off the door, cum spray hitting my legs.  He does three more hard humps
up my ass, the last one picking me off the floor a  good foot and holding
me up as he pumps the last of his spunk up my  ass.


Putting me down on my feet he does a few more lazy thrust and  then pulls
out with a lot of his cum rolling down the back of my legs. The  feeling of
his orgasm shooting inside me felt like the most spunk in my ass at  one time
ever. I'm gasping for breath still bent over against the door, my chest
heaving while incredible sensations buzz around my body. I moan and shudder as
 the last of the sensations drifts off and now my asshole feels really wide
open  back there. I think of Ryan saying my anus was open as big as a
silver dollar,  but this feels like it's opened more than that. Dick's at the
sink with the  water running washing his hands and whistling. I hate the sound
of whistling!  Slowly straighten up I turn around and see him wiping his
cock with a wet paper  towel, then he uses a new one to dry his now flaccid
hunk of meat. His cock,  clean and dry is put away and he zips up, saying
nothing. I grab paper towels  and wet them so I can wipe his cum off the back of
my legs and butt cheeks. He  slides past me, pushing me roughly against the
sink, unlocks the door, and  sternly says, "Boy!" I look up startled, "You
and your pussy stay in here two  minute before coming out!" The door slams
and that's it. I'm totally out of my  submissive trance taking deep breaths
drying my legs and ass, then I fold toilet  paper to stuff in my jockey shorts
hoping the tissue absorbs the load of cum  that'll be slowly drooling out
of my ass. Washing my hands and face slowly  without thinking about anything,
then I get myself put back together and walk  outside. No one yells, 'What
the fuck were you two doing in there?' No one even  notices me as I light a
cigarette and sit on a bench feeling Dick's cum wetting  past the toilet
paper.


I want to think about what just happened, but first I need a  plausible
explanation for why the seat of my pants has a big cum stain. Okay,  there is
no plausible explanation for that, so I'll need to go into deceit mode.
Getting up with the cigarette dangling between my lips, I feel back there and it
 has leaked through. That was quite an orgasm ol' Dick had for himself.
Maybe  he's wicked horny and can't get relief from Marsha because his cock's
too big  for tiny Marsha's little pussy. On the other hand tiny Marsha has a
ginormous  mouth so that's an option. Picking up a cup someone threw in the
trash I rinse  it out at the sink in the outdoor toilet and then leave an
inch of water in the  cup. Back at the bench the water is poured on the seat
and I sit in it. Not too  cool, but sometimes ya just gotta gut it out.


Okay, now what the fuck happened in that bathroom? I lost my  fucking mind,
that's what happened. Can't remember a more unexpected or more  dominant
sexual encounter. When I say that I'm taking into account the eye  contact
earlier between him and me. Sure I was curious about Dick's random eye
contact, but him coming right in the bathroom after me and doing each thing he  did
was way out of my league and totally shocking. I couldn't handle it and I
can't even claim it was rape because he asked if it was okay and I said a
shaky  'Un huh' instead of 'Uh uh', which is what I should have said. Of
course I could  also have said, 'No, it's most definitely not okay, you asshole!
Are you out of  your fucking mind?' I had a couple of choices there, but I
chose 'Un huh'. Would  he have fucked me if I said no? I don't know of
course, but I'm pretty sure he  wouldn't have. Just a feeling I have. What the
fuck, it was quite a hot and  dominant sexual experience, although one that
oddly I'd never want to do again  with him, and yet I don't say no to Timmy's
repeated fucks with his two inch  boner. I wonder why that is? Is it that
fucking with Tim almost doesn't even  count, and getting fucked by that big
bastard who totally dominated me... that  most definitely does count? Yeah,
that's pretty much it. I feel guilty betraying  both Robby and Ryan. What I need
to put on my 'to do' list is practice saying  the word 'no', or maybe 'fuck
no!' would be even better. I do not feel good  about that sex, but making an
issue of it now seems stupid. It would just make  matters worse.

I'm not even trying to rationalize this to myself. I should  have said,
'no' period. Interrupting my thoughts, Robby comes out of the tent  shielding
his eyes against the burst of sunshine that blinds you for a second  coming
from the low-light of the tent. Still using his hand as a visor, he asks,
"Are you okay, Dylan? Why are you sitting out here by yourself?" I shrug,
"Just  wanted a cigarette. Sit with me, Robby." He sits and takes a smoke out of
his  pack, mumbling, "That bitch, Marsha, never shuts up and her boyfriend,
 what's-his-name, never says a fucking thing." I go, "The oddest couple
I've ever  met. That asshole Dick came right in the outdoor toilet with me and
stood next  to me pissing." Robby frowns, "What?" then, "Didn't you lock the
door?" I'm  like, "The first time in my life I didn't lock a toilet door,
but it's like the  place was so unexpectedly nice and clean, um, locking the
door slipped my mind.  Ya just don't expect an outdoor toilet like that." He
nods, "It's clean alright.  Um, did he have a big dick?" I shrug, "Don't
know. I didn't look at it. I was  kinda flabbergasted he'd do that." Robby
asks, "Did he say anything?" I go, "Not  much." Robby mutters, "Weird," then he
says, "Spider and Jeff want to stay for  the country and western band
performance tonight, then the fireworks." I go, "Oh  balls! I've had enough
country fair for one day," then I make a face, muttering,  "What am I sitting
in," and get up looking behind me. Robby chuckles, "Oh fuck,  you sat in some
bodies spilled beer or something." I'm like, "Goddammit!"  Robby says, "I'll
get some paper towels from the outdoor toilet." Nodding my  head I swipe at
the back of my pants. I want to avoid going in there with Robby  because he
might have the same idea Dick had and, while that'd be hot, Dick's  creamy
cum is too fresh.


With a handful of paper towels Robby wipes my ass, then says,  "Come in the
bathroom with me and we'll wipe inside your pants too." I go, "Oh  my God,
you've done more than enough already, Rob! Thanks, but I'm good. I'm
dripping with sweat anyway." I take the paper towels from him and wipe the seat,
muttering, "What kind of asshole spills beer on a bench?" After I dump the
paper  towels in the trash we sit down again. Robby pulls the visor of my hat
down like  he did earlier, saying, "Don't worry, it's so hot, babe, your
pants will dry in  no time." Readjusting my hat, I put my arm across Robby's
shoulders hugging him  against my side, murmuring, "I love you so much,
Robby, and I especially loved  that thing you said about there being nothing you
can think of that you couldn't  forgive me for doing." He chuckles, "Yeah,
it's pretty much true too." I say,  "Ya know, that's the kind of thing true
lovers say to each other 'cause nobody's  perfect, we both know that." He
nods his head leaning against me as many people  mill around or walk by. A year
ago neither of us would be so casual about openly  showing gay affection in
public.


It's nice sitting with Robby and then Chubby comes out on his  way to take
another piss, saying, "Come on inside boys, big mouth Marsha just  got Dick
to buy too more pitchers of beer and this time with two dozen hot  wings.
Free booze and snacks." Robby goes, "Money for nothing, chicks for free,"  and
Chubby says, "Dire Straights... 1985." I shake my head, mumbling, "The
trivia and factoid king of the world, my brother." Robby and I go back inside
and find Spider standing and arguing with a man and a women. When he sees
us, he  says, "There's two of them now," then to us, "He wants your seats,"
and the man  pulls the lady's arm, mumbling, "There's two people getting up
over there." They  leave and we sit down as Dick glances at me with a blank
expression on his face.  Marsha asks, "Where the hell were you two?" Robby
says, "What's it to you?" and  she yells, "Ya know damn well there's no saving
seats here and it's a pain in my  ass saving them for you two fucks." Spider
goes, "Pain in your ass? You didn't  say shit, I saved the seats!" She
goes, "Go fuck yourself! The waitress said no  saving seats." Two black guys in
their middle twenties are now occupying the New  Yorkers' seats. The guy
next to Robby says, "No saved seats is stupid. People  gotta use the bathroom.
We are drinking beer, aren't we? So fuck her." I guess  he means the
waitress, although he said it to me and Robby so he might have  meant , 'Fuck
Marsha'. That's what I'm going with anyhow.


We're here another half hour in which time Dick says not a  single word,
the black guys meet some brothers and they're standing and doing  the one arm
hugs, saying, "S'happenin', bro?" and "Y'all motherfucker's getting tight?"
Another one goes, "Sho'nuff, bawse,"  and they leave taking their pitcher of
beer with them. Marsha never does shut up  and Chubby finally smiles at
her, saying to Dick, "How the fuck do you put up  with her, dude?" As for me, I
can't take this shit anymore, saying, "I've gotta  get the fuck out of
here." Robby stands up then too and thanks Dick for his  generosity while saying
nothing to Marsha. Chubby chugs his beer and bumps  Spider's shoulder,
'Yeah, lets walk around a little. Come on, Joseph," then  those two thank Dick
for the beers. Dick's shrugging and waving his hand a  little, like, 'It's
nothing'. I thank nobody and we're finally done with the Red  Brick Ale tent
after a two and a half hour beer break. It's after six o'clock so  we're
again looking for a place to eat. Spider is a little bit loaded, but  Chubby
seems okay. Robby and I had about half the beers those two had so we're  good.
On the fair grounds there's some  indication however that some people  have
been over-served beer some place or other, or maybe they brought their own
moon shine. Most of the drunks are in small groups of guys, who in the not
too  distant past were teenagers, girls too. Kind of a rowdy atmosphere
developing  here at the country fair.


Chubby wants to see the country and western band performance  at eight
o'clock, and then the fireworks at ten o'clock, so it looks like we'll  be
having fun here for at least another four hours. Robby says, "I'm trying  really
hard not to think about the nightmare we're going to experience when  sixty
thousand people decide to leave after the fireworks. That was a two-lane
highway we came in on." The rest of us look at each other and it's like a
light  bulb blinks-on over each of our heads. I go, "Fuck, lets skip the
fireworks. We've seen fireworks every year I can remember." Chubby's rubbing his
chin, then he goes, "Yeah, and fuck a whole bunch of country and western
bands  too. Let's eat something and then take off. We'll beat the crowds and
Spider can get us a case of beer back at the motel, or we can reappear at the
 garage bar." To Robby and me, he says, "Dudes, you gotta experience this
garage  bar. They've got more country and western music than you could ever
wish to  hear. Plus all the derelict drunks from the whole county will be
there trying to  out drink each other." Spider goes, "Yeah, let's go! This fair
blows anyway,"  and the rest of us say, "No it doesn't! It's awesome!" Then
we walk around  looking for a place to eat while unmercifully mocking
everything about the fair  and laughing our asses off. In other words, we joined
the ranks of those  over-served little groups adding our own little rowdy
element to the  fairgrounds.


to be continued...    Donny Mumford    thinat20@yahoo.com
donnymumford@outlook.com




========================================================




Hoping some readers may be interested, there are books of mine  published
and available on Amazon.com. Anyone who has Kindle can download them  for
next to nothing. (Or buy the 'print' version.) The books are under  ten
dollars. They are about a 19 year old gay boy (Oliver) who has a far different life
than  Dylan's. And there is a new book, 'Mike, his Bike and Me'. Please at
least  check them out by typing my name on Amazon.com. Information about the
story in  the books can be found in some detail there. Thank  you.


Donny  Mumford



============================================

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