Date: Wed, 23 Apr 2014 20:36:43 -0700 (PDT)
From: Rob Roth <eighty.eight@rocketmail.com>
Subject: Dylan's Summer Vacation Two, Chapter 58

			DYLAN'S SUMMER VACATION TWO

				Chapter  58

			     by  Donny Mumford

As Jumper and I head back to the boardwalk, he
asks, "Um, you're submissive during sex, aren't you, Dylan? You weren't
submissive before, so it kinda surprised me you became submissive when I fucked
you, it was a very pleasant surprise though. No complaints from me at all.
Terry can't let himself go like you can. He wants to be a 'bottom', but he's in
a constant battle with himself trying to prove he's not a bottom type.
Like I told ya, he tries giving the impression he's a tough guy, when he isn't.
He's sweet actually, if a little smothering with his love and it feels awkward
at times. You on the other hand are comfortable enough with who you are that
you allow yourself to enjoy being submissive in sex. I gotta admire that."
I go, "People misunderstand and think it's a sign if weakness, but I've
never seen it that way. Right from the first sex I ever had I got a sexual
thrill acting submissive for my sex partner. Heh heh, of course I didn't have
much choice 'cause my sexual mentor dominated my ass. I just figured that's the
way I'm suppose to be... you know, since I much prefer the other guy doing the
fucking it's only fair I let him do it the way he wants. Plus, I didn't know
any better. My first sex partner took control right from step one, like I
didn't have a choice, and since his sex created unbelievably great feelings in
me, ones I never imagined even exited, I was grateful for the pleasure he
provided me. Consequentially I wanted to please him so I could experience those
otherworldly sensations again. That concept has grown stronger over the years.
I'm not sure, but perhaps because my sexual mentor taught me to be basically
submissive to him, that's how I'm most comfortable being during sex. This was
further emphasized by my first real boyfriend, a kid named Willie. He was
always sort of the dominant one in our sex life, and me acting submissive in
sex seemed to be the way to go since my early sex teachers more or less
insisted on it. I imagine a lot of the reasons for it are hidden in my
subconscious mind." Walking up the ramp to the boardwalk, Jumper goes,
"Damn, it's a good thing we're not living close to one another because I'd
probably have to drop Terry and spend all my time getting you to love me like
Terry does. I'd feel like a shit doing it to Terry, but you're just about
irresistible. You must have gay boys drooling all over you in your
neighborhood, um, where do you live again?" I tell him, "I don't
think I've mention that to you. It's Framingham, Massachusetts, but nobody's
drooling over me. I have a boyfriend named, Robby, who I love. He working this
week or he'd be here with me." No need to complicate things by mentioning
Ryan, Ray, Sonny, or Seth, or anyone else for that matter. I don't kiss and
tell.

Jumper and I talk as we unhurriedly wander down
the boardwalk stopping here and there for drinks or to sample the various
goodies available for sale from the unending chain of stores and booths. I get
a tingle in my balls walking past 'Mohawk's Tattoo and Piercing Shop', but I
don't mention the history of me and mohawk man to Jumper. Jumper's and my
conversation reveals we're both big fans of gay sex, describing what we like
most and both agreeing that the worse gay sex we ever had was pretty damn good.
Nothing Jumper says gives me the impression he's anything other than a well
adjusted gay nineteen year old, fairly intelligent with a good sense of humor.
He does well in his college studies and even plays electric guitar in a five
man college rock band that entertains at frat parties. He was active in two
sports going to high school and now he's commuting to New York University. Like
me he'll be a sophomore when the fall semester begins. He commutes to college
because his mother and father won't allow him to live on campus for vague
reasons I don't quite understand. In addition to having mutual gay friends
along with Terry, Jumper has a circle of straight friends from college and
while he played high school soccer and ran track. He's not going out for any
college teams. He doesn't care for mainline American sports and he doesn't
consider soccer an American sport... he's right, it's not. Neither is hockey,
but so what? We can lay claim to baseball and basketball for sure. I'm not sure
about football, but I'm betting it's also American made. Sex-wise, Jumper wants
nothing to do with BDSM and doesn't appear to know much about it anyway. I
don't share what I know about the topic because I can see where some who aren't
into it might consider it sort of sick, and some of it is I guess. It's all a
matter of preference, although some activities are so far removed from the norm
that most of us don't get 'it', and don't want to get it. Jumper claims not to
have a sexual fetish of any kind which led us to a discussion about my
submissiveness during sex, and is it a fetish. Jumper doesn't think it sounds
like a fetish, although he admits he doesn't know much about fetishes either. I
try unsuccessfully talking him into going on a thrill ride. His reason for not
doing that is that getting the shit scared out of him isn't his idea of fun.
What the fuck, to each their own. He doesn't want to try any of the carnival
games either, saying, "What the fuck would I do with any of those cheesy
prizes in the unlikely event I won one?" He sees a lot of things differently
then I do as an America born and raised. He grew up mostly in India so it's
understandable he'd sees things differently.

I'm dying for a cigarette but cigarette smoke is
offensive to most nonsmokers, like Jumper, so I don't light up. We're just
about done for the night anyway, so I can wait awhile longer. It's about
twelve-thirty when Jumper surprises me by saying, "Tonight's probably the
last chance I'll get to see you, Dylan. See you alone I mean. Terry will be
here tomorrow and we're leaving Tuesday so, um, would you like to, you know,
fuck again?" I suck on my lips thinking it's getting late and I want a
cigarette, plus he fucked me really good earlier so I'm not especially horny at
the moment. On the other hand this could be my last chance for sex until I get
home. He's looking at me, then he grins, "We could take a walk on the
beach and find a secluded spot to do it. It's a beautiful night and I've never
had sex outside, have you?" Well, yeah, I have, but I say a little
white lie number 6054, "I don't remember ever doing it outside." And
that makes me think of the hot sex Ryan and I had behind his aunt and uncle's
house when they were at the Cape. That hot memory is the tipping point, I say,
"Okay, you hottie, fuck me in the sand." He chuckles, "God, I
hope were not oversexed, but come on," and he grip my forearm pulling me
towards steps leading to the beach, and again I think, 'Hey, I didn't really
have a choice about it this time either'. Jumper would have found a way to get
me on the beach and one thing would have led to another. As we're going down
the steps, with Jumper still leading me with his grip on my arm, I ask, "I
didn't have a chance this time either, did I?" He goes, "Not really,
but don't make it sound like I'm raping you. You want it, Dylan, I can tell.
I'm beginning to think you always want it so I'm seriously considering moving
to Framingham... Ha ha." He laughs at that, but then Jumper laughs easily
at a lot of things. On the beach he gets his arm around my neck and does the
lips on my ear whispering-thing again, "Dylan, be real submissive for me
again, okay? That was so hot earlier, I had a super climax." We take off
our sandals and walk in the sand, with me explaining, "I can't fake being
submissive, Jumper, it needs to happen on it's own." I don't want to
complicate things by explaining that I don't always feel submissive during sex,
just when my sex partner does something that my brain perceives as dominant.
The dominant angle sounds kind of like a branch of BDSM, which Jumper doesn't
approve of. Also it might sound like I have a lot of sex with many different
partners, some I'm submissive to during sex, and others I'm not, which is
another reason I don't go into a further explanation.

We walk a few more steps, then Jumper stops,
jumps easily a foot up off the sand, yelling, " Wait a damn minute!"
I go, "What's wrong?" He says, "I don't have another condom with
me. I was planning on buying some tomorrow for Terry's and my last night
here." I go, "I don't have any communicable deceases, you can go in
bareback." Jumper shakes his head, "I've never ever done that."
I ask, "Wouldn't you like to experience it at least once?" He stares
at me for a few seconds, then says, "You look too perfect to have anything
as nasty sounding as a decease. Okay, but this is a first for me. Do you think
I'll notice a big difference?" I say, "You will more than me."
He goes, "Really?" and I say, "That's what I've heard, although
I'm not really experienced, condom-wise, since Robby and I don't use a
one." He asks, "How long have you two been sexually active with each
other?" I tell him, "Going on three years, why?" He says,
"If you haven't contacted anything in three years, that makes me feel more
confident." Then he asks, "Except, ah, does he, um, mess around on
you?" I act shocked, "No! Not my Robby!" Jumper mumbles,
"Good, that makes me feel even better." There's no one else on the
beach and with the moon and stars being bright again tonight if people were
walking the nighttime beach we'd see them. Jumper says, "I got an idea,
stop walking." I stop and he gets in front of me to unsnap my shorts and
pull them down to my feet, then my underwear, "Step out of them, Dylan.
You walking with your dick hanging free might make you feel submissive to
me." I laugh, "What a treat for the people walking the boardwalk
tonight, but being naked has never bothered me, Jumper, so I don't think that
will make me feel submissive. It feels wonderful having the ocean breeze
cooling my junk actually... haha." He laughs too, handing me my shorts,
then he puts my jockey underwear on my head, saying, "Nice hat." I
mutter, "Maybe if you lead me with my dick, like it's a leash, I might
feel a submissiveness come over me." He takes hold of my cock and off we
go, with Jumper saying, "Keep your hat on too. I'd pull it down over your
nose except then I couldn't see your cute face."

Because we're walking in sand there's uneven
footing and Jumper's pulling me along by my dick in a jerking manner. His hand
moving on my cock is creating friction so my cock is getting hard. It'd get
hard being held in his hand even if his hand wasn't moving, but not this fast.
He looks over his shoulder at me grinning, saying, "This is the first time
I've held a guy's cock as it's getting hard. It feels way cool." I'm right
behind him almost stepping on his heels because my cock/leash is only six
inches long. Jumper again looks back, this time at his fist holding my cock,
"Ya know, Dylan, I really like that shaved look ya got down there, it's a
nice clean look. Terry would never have the guts to do that." I mutter,
"Uh huh," concentrating on my cock. It's feeling real good as the
uncut foreskin withdraws from the head as my dick bones-up further. After we've
walked a block or so Jumper leads us under the boardwalk among the thick
supports that hold the boardwalk up off the beach. At this section the
boardwalk's about twenty feet above the sand. The supports looks like very fat
telephone poles embedded in concrete. Above us we can hear hundreds of people
walking which makes a constant scuffling sound that blends with the roar of the
ocean as the waves break along the shoreline a hundred yards down the sloping
beach from us. We're under one of the piers where amusement rides are located,
so there's carnival music to go with the sounds of the rides' as their motors
and grinding gears announce metal on metal contact, and that mixes with sounds
of people screaming on thrill rides of one kind or another. Letting go of my
boner, Jumper takes his cock out through the zipper of his shorts, and says,
"Get on your knees, please." Dropping my shorts in the sand, I drop
to my knees with a hand on each of Jumper's thighs, and he moves his flaccid
cock around my face and across my lips. As he does that, he mutters, "You
might be addictive, Dylan. It's so hot when you do whatever I tell you, and oh
my God you're as sexy as they come... cute too. A lethal combination as far as
I'm concerned. You're kinda like a sexual narcotic and I can imagine getting
addicted to you." He drags the head of his cock between my lips, and
across the front of my teeth, muttering, "Ohh, that feels good." His
cock is firming up now, so he says, "Would you mine awfully opening up
your cute mouth?" I open my mouth sticking my tongue out covering my
bottom teeth and Jumper very slowly slides his hard cock into my mouth on my
tongue. As he does it, he goes, "Mmmm, sooo nice."

He slides his cock all the way back on my tongue
until the head bumps into the back of my throat, "Suck my big cock, Dylan,
let me feel your tongue too." Jumper rubs through my hair knocking my
underpants off, then the fingers of both his hands massage my head and down the
back of my head. He squeezes the back of my neck giving me chills down my spine
and making my shoulders shudder. Finally he massages my shoulders, really
gripping hard with his long fingers. Jumper looks in my eyes, smirkingly
pleased with the oral sex and the feel of my body. He mutters, "Suck my
cock you beautiful fucking thing. Damn, I wish we were staying here longer, but
Terry needs to be back Tuesday. I'd love to experience this with you
again," and he pats my cheek, saying, "Dude, you're what I'll think
about whenever I think of Wildwood, and that'll probably be true the rest of my
life. You are special, my friend," and he starts rubbing down my back a
little, mumbling to himself, "What a choice body." I'm quite
contented too because I love sucking a cute boy's cock, and his cock is another
one that's a mouthful. The texture of soft skin over the hard shaft is so sexy
to have in my mouth, the fat head being my favorite part to suck on. Jumper
mumbles, "My dick won't get much harder than this, so here we go,"
and he grips my head with both hands and pulls my face into his pubic hairs
with his cock gagging the shit out of me going down my throat, just like it did
last time. It's actually too big to be deep throating, not that I have much
choice in the matter. Jumper's unconcerned about my gagging as he's pulling
harder at the back of my head, not content until my face is plastered into his
pubes, flat against his belly. He humps his hips a little, then grinds them as
he moans, "Oooh, mmmm, yeaaah, that's soooo good, oooh, mmmm, umph, umph,
aaah." I struggle, but he holds my face against him continuing to hump his
hips, just little hip movements that moves his boner in my throat a tiny bit
more and bringing a fear of vomiting. I struggle some more as Jumper mumbles,
"Just a couple more seconds. Aaaaaah, ooh, ooh, ooh," and then he
backs up a bit and his cock plops out of my throat to ooze precum on my tongue.
Jumper's taking deep breaths, followed by a mumbled, "That's
awesome." Then, as I'm sucking in oxygen refilling my lungs, he does it
again and his cock goes down my throat easier this time, but not easily.
Jumper's not shy about pleasuring himself and he does the same hip movements,
keeping his cock in my throat longer this time. When panic is beginning to buzz
around in my brain his cock is pulled out of my throat again to lay on my
tongue drooling much more precum, which builds up and I need to consciously
swallow. I'm too busy inhaling to complain when his hands go behind my head
again and he pulls my face to his hairy belly once more. I've discovered
recently I'm able to gage my level of submissiveness by how docile I get, how
pliable and easily handled I am, and since I'm completely docile now I know I'm
in it fairly deep. It's probably because of the way Jumper's doing what he
wants without much concern for me, although that's partly my fault for not
complaining, except I can't complain because I'm in a submissive trance. That
would make most people mad, but it makes me happily more submissive because sex
is involved. Submissiveness increases the sexuality for me. It'd be a
completely opposite reaction if someone on the job, for example, was taking
advantage of me, or if someone butts in front of me in a line of some sort, but
with sex it hits the right buttons in my subconscious mind and I get
submissive.

Jumper does his deep throating exercise two more
times and then steps back pulling his cock entirely from my mouth. His boner's
sloppily shining in the light that slips through the cracks of the boardwalk.
It shines wetly from my saliva mixed with his copious amounts of precum. He
chuckles, "I don't dare touch my cock or I'd pop a load all over you. Man,
you give the best head I've ever fucking had. You're a freakin' genius with
that." I'm in a daze with my own boner so hard all I can do is stare at it
in amazement. I'm on my knees in the sand, naked from my waist down, my jockey
shorts laying in the sand next to me, along with my shorts. In a daze I lift my
eyes to stare at Jumper, then my eyes drop down to his rock-hard cock sticking
out the zipper of his shorts, dripping precum. He's excited, "Hey, we're
in Wildwood so lets do something wild. After I fuck you lets go skinny dipping
in the Atlantic." He's looking at me with a big grin, "What do you
say?" I gulp, then mutter, "Okay," and his eyes open wide,
"Oh, you're being submissive, right? Oh good, um," and he wipes his
lips with his thumb, thinking I guess. Then he takes his pants off, then his
underpants. He hooks the bottom of his jockey short's waistband under my chin
and the top waistband goes over the crown of my head so when I inhale the
underwear material is sucked against my face. His underpants smell like him,
not like farts. He says, "I'm into wild things tonight, Dylan, and since
it appears to be okay to do what I want, I thought I'd sacrifice looking at
your face and let you smell my underpants. Now turn around and get on your
hands and knees." I do that and he wipes his cock at my anus, asking,
"Without lube, is there a secret to this, or should I just pile-drive
in?" I shrug, not wanting to speak for fear of losing this dreamy state
I'm in. He goes, "I got it, a little saliva will help," and a second
later I feel a long drool of Jumper's saliva wet my left butt cheek. He moves
the spit to my asshole with the head of his boner and then, without warning,
plugs the head of his fat cock past my sphincter muscle and moans, "Aaaah,
oooh fuck, this does feel better. Jesus!" I grunt at the pain which
quickly fades, and then returns when Jumper pushes his big boner three inches
further up my ass. This is the opposite of the lazy fuck earlier where he went
agonizingly slow. Just as the second wave of pain drifts away a new one comes
when he drive his hips forward and shoves the rest of his boner up my ass,
pushing me six inches forward in the process. I slid in the sand on my hands
and knees. He's doing a series of grunts, then, raspy breathing and finally,
"Mmmm, this is the bomb, Dylan. Awesome!"

All the pain is fading from my rectum and I kind
of wish Jumper would smack my ass a few times or do something dominant, but
he'd never think of doing that on his own, and anyway, I've been losing
interest in spankings lately. Jumper slowly pulls his boner back out and
immediately pushes it right back up my ass, hurting again, but the third time
he thrust his boner up my ass it goes in without any pain, just a nice full
filling inside me. He grips my sides near my waist, his fingers reaching around
to my stomach, and begins fucking me at a fairly normal speed. Jumper reaches
over my back to pull his underpants off my face, mumbling to himself,
"That wasn't a very nice thing to do." I guess he's not the wild and
crazy guy he thought he was. The super sensitive spots in my ass soon light up
and begin a series of awesome vibrations and there's buzzing and sizzling in my
rectum. I'm moaning to myself savoring the world of sexual pleasure I find
myself in. My balls are actively producing sperm as the head of my cock leaks
precum that drool down the shaft onto my balls. Just when I feel the beginnings
of an orgasm, Jumper pulls his cock all the way out. Why does he do that? He
says, "Whew, that's hot. You've got a tight ass so maybe you're not as
sexually active as you should be. Now I want a different sensation on my
bareback fucking cock! You're a bad influence on me, I'll be tempted to go
bareback again and that's just so crazy. Get on your back if you don't
mind." I roll onto my side and then my back getting sand all over me,
including my ass. Jumper drops to his knees and lifts my legs holding both
ankles in his left hand while he brushes sand off my ass with the other hand.
Then he stands up, still holding my ankles, but with both hands now so he can
lift my ass off the ground and pile sand under me with his foot. He apparently
wants my ass raised. Dropping me gently on the pile of sand I feel sand under
my t-shirt, and now my asshole is about a foot above my head. He mutters,
"Okay," and gets down low on his knees guiding his boner to my
asshole, and him leaning forward pushes his boner all the way in again and it
feels absolutely fabulous. It went in at a different angle and I'm like,
"Oooooh, ummm, ummm, feels good." Jumper begins a quicker fuck,
perhaps going bareback has him a little more anxious for climax. The speed of
his penetrations picks up even more putting me in a constant state of sexual
stimulations that has my body squirming in the sand as I moan and groan with a
pleasure that can't be described. The rectum is a pleasure palace, especially
mine. It's not just my rectum though, it's my whole groin area including the
inside of my thighs near my groin, it all feels good. Oh God does it ever feels
good and my climax is just about to send me into ecstasy. Jumper's making more
sounds of pleasure then he did during the first fuck and that also is making it
all seem sexier to me. We had our drawn-out sexual experience earlier and now
it's a sprint, except he pulls his cock out again... what the fuck? He sits
back in the sand, moaning, "Mmmm, umm," then he's taking deep
breaths, before he mutters, "Almost lost it there for a second. Bareback
is awesome! Why the fuck can't somebody come up with a solution to sexually
transmittable diseases. Solve the AIDS one first, please!" I just look at
him with my rectum still buzzing beautifully.

After a minute he looks at me, "Forget I
had that stupid outburst, Dylan, okay? Come on, stand up," as he stands
giving me a hand up. He mutters, "Turn around," and I do. With his
hands on my shoulders, his boner slides right back up my ass. Jumper breaths
loudly as I go, "Ummmm, yeaaah," and he starts fucking me hard making
grunting sounds with each thrust, and each thrust moves me a bit forward in the
sand until I'm up against one of the pilings with my arms around it and the
side of my face against it. The, "Slap, slap, slap," sound of anal
fucking is now in my ears as he pounds my ass. Now that I'm stationary the
thrusts up my ass are harder and Jumper's going wilder than I'd have thought
him capable of. It's the complete opposite of our first fucks and I'm squirming
with desire and arousal. Sexy sensations seemingly covering my body. When
Jumper cries out and humps into me extra hard as I feel his stream of cum hit
inside me and then my cock twitches erupting with spunk. My  boner sticks
straight up between my stomach and the big round support I'm hugging, so cum
shoots up my chest as my body convulses and a wave of sensation flood over me
from my toes to my scalp. Jumper's still humping his cock up my ass as three
more squirts of cum fire from my cock... it's wiggling enthusiastically against
my stomach and then Jumper bites my shoulder and goose bumps raise on my
 arms as a chill flies down my spine again. He pushes his cock all the way
in, his crotch very tight against my buttocks, and he holds it there giving the
side of my face a lick, then a kiss. He murmurs, "I could fall so badly
for you I'd make a complete fool out of myself kissing your ass. Today I've had
the two best fucks I've ever had. I swear to God, both were the best fucks of
my life and both in one day and with the same guy. Will you marry me?" and
he laughs. Obviously Jumper's not the romantic type. He may be serious about
our fucks being awesome, but love isn't part of his itinerary. He already told
me he doesn't love Terry even though Terry's in love with him. Jumper
compliments our sex, but jokes about marriage. I'm not saying that a single
word of love should pass between us, because that's idiotic, but what I am
saying is that there'd never be talk of love no matter how long a relationship
Jumper might be in. Some guys are like that, and perhaps I don't know Jumper
well enough to have that opinion of him, but I bet I'm right and that makes me
appreciate Robby all the more because he's a romantic, and romantic love is
what we're all about. Without that I don't see how a relationship can last very
long. Maybe an 'arrangement' can last, but not a relationship because that
requires love. That's what I believe anyhow.

We stay up against the pole for awhile, his cock
still inside me as we catch our breath and come down off climax mountain. Then
he rubs my head, saying, "You're a damn good sex partner, Dylan." He
pulls his cock out and cum runs down my buttocks. I had to bite my lip to keep
from moaning as his cock slid out. I turn around leaning back on the pole now,
and say, "You fuck good, Jumper, but I was hoping you jumped while you fucked."
He laughs, "I've tried it and believe me, it doesn't really work. I need
to consciously tell myself, 'No jumping, Jumper!' ha ha."He says, "I
don't know why I jumped as a kid, but it's grown on me. I did the indoor sixty
meters hurtles in high school, and while jumping over the hurtles was easy, my
legs aren't as fast as some of the other kids in between the hurtles."
Pushing away from the pole, I ask, "How about the high jump?" Jumper
says, "Oddly, I can't jump particularly high, and anyway most high jumpers
do the Fosbury Flop, which means you go over the bar backwards, looking up. I
never even tried that." We're picking up our clothes with Jumper
chuckling, then admitting, "I don't know if I actually have the balls to
do skinny dipping. I have a feeling the beach patrol might frown on that."
I'm trying to brush sand off my arm, but there's sand on the palms of my hands
from being on all fours earlier. I say, "Lets do a sprint to the water and
a quick dive under. We can wear our jockey shorts, they technically could
qualify as swimsuits, and what are the chances a beach patrol will come by
during the three minutes we're rinsing the sand off us in the ocean?" He
nods, "Yeah, fuck it, we're only young once, and this is Wildwood, so
we'll do something a little wild. Lets do it without underwear." I say,
"That fuck you just laid on my ass already counts as something wild, but
you can go for another wild act to write about in your memoirs." He
laughs, "Yeah, that'll be a best seller. Everyone will want to know what
an insignificant kid from India did growing up. You'd be the best chapter,
Dylan." I ask, "Shall we race?" as I pull my t-shirt off. Jumper
takes off running, yelling back, "Yeah, lets race!" I take off
running after him, naked as the second I was born, my dick flapping as sand
kicks up behind me.

Both Jumper and me are laughing, feeling a
little foolish and a little nervous about being caught naked in the water or on
the beach. And we're not even drunk. It'll be a little bit hard to explain if we're
caught doing this. I can't catch Jumper before he hits the water, but he's only
six feet ahead of me when I reach the ocean and we both slow down drastically
because running in water ain't easy. He looks back, and yells, "It's
fucking freezing!" It does feel very cold, but I dive under as soon as the
water's almost up to my swinging dick. A shock to the body initially, but I
soon gets used to it and swim out a little deeper. I can still touch bottom if
I want to, so this is as far out as I'm going. Jumper doesn't even swim out
this far. He's a clumsy swimmer and a picture of Dodger flashers in my mind.
It's Dodger swimming in his pool as smoothly and effortlessly as a seal. I miss
him. We swim for longer then we intended, it's been maybe five minutes and then
I hear a car's engine. The fucking beach patrol. I say, "Jumper, swim
under water when we can see their Jeep." He laughs quietly, then says,
"This is going to be fucking embarrassing." The Jeep never appears
though, the engine sound quickly gets weaker and weaker until we can't hear it
over the noise from the pier. The fact we could hear it at all means it was
really close. We wade out of the ocean and jog back to the safety of the
pilings supporting the pier. "That was awesome, Dylan, but how we gonna
get dry?" I shrug, "I'm gonna use my t-shirt to dry my ass, then put
my shorts on, and stuff my sand-covered jockey shorts in my pocket. On the
boardwalk we'll run right across it shirtless over to the off ramp that's
across from the stairs." After shaking as much sand off my t-shirt as I
can, I dry my ass, cock, and balls. Then shake sand from my shorts and put them
on, stuffing my underwear in a pocket. Jumper does the same and, carrying our
t-shirt and sandal's, we trudge back up the beach the way we came. We easily
find the steps leading to the boardwalk and up we go. At the top we peak around
and then streak across, dodging the startled walkers, and down the ramp on the
other side of the boardwalk. Jumper's laughing all the way. On the sidewalk, he
says, "This was a fun night, Dylan," and he holds out his hand. It
seems funny shaking hands after we've kissed, hugged, and fucked, but that's
what we do. He says, "It's been real, Dylan. Great meeting you." I
return those sentiments, then I go left and he goes right, probably never to
see each other again.

When I'm safely back in our rented duplex I run
into Chubby, who's just coming out of the bathroom after a shower. He sees my
hair's wet and asks, "Bro! What's ya been up to?" I say, "Well,
since you dumped me I had nothing to do, so I tried drowning myself in the
ocean, then I remembered you need a haircut so I'll do that in the morning, and
drown myself later." He says, "That's a good plan, except don't you
remember? We got that beer party tomorrow night, so you might want to hold off
on the drowning until Wednesday." I go, "Oh, yeah, I forgot about the
beer party, but Wednesday's my birthday. Oh man, it's always something. Maybe
I'll rethink drowning myself, but for now I need a shower badly." After my
shower I brush my teeth and get in bed with Chubby, falling asleep hugging him.
Next morning we sleep until almost eleven o'clock. I woke up earlier, but dozed
back to sleep to catch-up on the sleep I've been missing recently. I'm a
teenager for one more day, then it's over, Wednesday's my twentieth birthday.
The horror! Chubby and I do our necessary bathroom stuff, get dressed in
shorts, t-shirts, and sandals, then have juice and coffee on the deck, smoking
a cigarette while deciding if we'll do Chubby's haircut before or after we get
something to eat on the boardwalk. It's another perfect beach day and the moms
are already there under an umbrella . Their twin boyfriends are coming down to
join them Wednesday afternoon. The guys will be staying at a motel for the rest
of the week, which will keep the moms busy. I do not want to know the details
of the busy part. Chubby wants the haircut first so I get out my barber tools
and ask him how he wants it cut. He pulls his t-shirt over his head, saying,
"Something sexily cute to impress the girls." I give him the classic
short cut, as short as a burr haircut except I leave the bangs an inch and a
quarter so he can comb it up in front. Before I use the trimmers to outline
around his ears I hug around his neck and give him a long kiss on the side of
his forehead like I do for a lot of the boys I give haircuts to. Chubby smells
so good it makes me dizzy. He's makes a face like my kiss is something
unpleasant, so I say, "You better smile or you'll get worse, like a kiss
on the lips, which I forgot to give you this morning," and I lean down and
kiss his lips, muttering, "Those girlfriends of yours are so lucky. They
make me jealous." He goes, "Hey, I'm sleeping with you. They should
be jealous of you." I use the trimmer around his ears, then use both hands
to ruffle his head getting off some random clippings. After that I mess around
combing his bangs different ways to drag out the haircut. Chubby asks,
"Are ya done gets?" and I mutter, "Unfortunately yes. You look
so cute with this haircut." He checks himself out as I sweep up the short
hair clipping. He says, "Yeah, you're right, I do look damn cute, thanks,
Dylan, you're good, dude."

We wander up to the boardwalk speculating about
tonight's beer party and agree it'll probably get out of control, as often
happens when a lot of college kids get together to primarily see who can get
the drunkest. Chubby and me vow not to get smashed. It's afternoon so we're
gonna grab some lunch, not breakfast. Halfway down the second block on the
boardwalk there's an open front shop doing old favorite standbys like
hamburgers, hotdog's, cheese steaks, french fries, and fountain drinks made
from sweet syrup and carbonated water. Also milkshakes, root beer floats, ice
cream cones, and the like. We watch the kid frying the hamburgers and decide
they look damn good so we go inside and sit at the counter, although there are
booths available. A cute kid is taking orders for the half of the counter we're
sitting at. Hmmm, I look around and all the employees: three cooks, four
waiters, and two soda jerks are all teenage boys. And they all are dressed the
same in jeans and white t-shirts with the name of the restaurant across the
back. These are the daytime shift so there's another nine who work the shift
from four o'clock until eight. I'm guessing, but that's probably how it goes.
The cooks work the grille in the front, right on the boardwalk, and next to
them is the entrance. The cashier faces the entrance, and then the soda
fountain, which also opens to the boardwalk, is behind the cashier, who is the
only employee not a teenage boy. He's a rather stern looking man who probably
owns the joint. All teenage boys that all have the same burr haircuts. Dress
code, you know. I can't help but wonder about the stern looking cashier/owner
and his stable of teenage boys all dressed and barbered alike, probably by him.
No girls allowed I guess. Makes a person go, huh! The cuter of the two waiters
comes over to us with a sparkling smile on his cute face, asking, "What
can I get you guys?" No name tags, so I try my old trick, "Hey, are
you Ken Burn's brother by any chance? Ya sure look like him." This kid's
got fiery red hair almost as orange as Sonny's. He goes, "No, I have a
sister." I go, "And a brother Ken, right? You must be John." He
says, "No, seriously, my names Danny Barbosa." I say, "Oh, my
mistake, Danny. Are there any job openings here? This looks like a cool place
to work." He says, "I don't think so, Mister Grant, he's the owner
and the cashier. He hired us kids from Mount Karmal high school. There's not
much pay and he gives us these haircuts every week," as cute Danny rolls
his eyes. Then he says, "Those are the two downsides to the job, but we
get days off every other week and we're at the shore all summer, so those
are two big plusses. I've always wanted to spend a summer in Wildwood and I
jumped at the chance to do just that."

Chubby and I look at him, probably both thinking
this set-up seems strange. Danny again asks, "What can I get you
guys?" Chubby says, "Oh yeah, cheesesteak and a vanilla milkshake for
me." I say, "Cheeseburger and fries, plus a fountain Coke. You hardly
ever see soda fountains anymore." Danny shrugs, writing our order down. I
casually ask, "Um, Danny, does Mister cash register man over there ever
hangout at nights with you boys at all?" His face turns dark red as he
stutters, "Wha? Um, no, no really, he doesn't," and he hurries off
down the long counter. Chubby looks at me and says, "I'll bet we're both
thinking the same thing." I ask, "Does it have anything to do with
window washer boys?" He nods his head, "Do you suppose the owners
perv-ing on these cute kids?" I go, "I hope the hell not, but you saw
Danny's reaction. What can we do though?" Chubby's like, "Maybe drop
an anonymous tip to the police that they need to do some sniffing around this
place without drawing attention to themselves. Maybe an undercover cop can talk
to the boys confidentially. Something like that." I go, "That's a
good idea. At least we'll have tried to do something. I'd hate to think these
sweet looking kids were putting out for mister stern over there just so they
can spend the summer at the shore. Remember we were psyched to work at the
shore the summer before we got jobs?" He goes, "Yeah, and maybe it's
a good thing it never worked out." Our food is delivered by Danny without
any eye contact now, and no sparkling smile either. I say, "I'm sorry if I
upset you, Danny. I didn't mean to imply anything." He mumbles, "You
didn't upset me. I'm good, we're all good. No problem at all. We're at the
shore all summer, man. Ya know?" I say, "Absolutely," and he takes
a quick peak at my eyes, asking, "Um, you worked for Mister Grant before,
did ya?" I go, "No, I've never been in this place before in my
life." He nods his head a few times, then says, "Enjoy your
lunch," and he's off. Chubby and I exchange glances, then he says,
"Definitely an anonymous call to the cops are in order."

The lunch is really good. My cheeseburger comes
with tomato and pickles and it does not look like it's been in
someone's back pocket all day, like the hamburgers look like in the fast food
joints. Plus, it's about the same price as a McDonald's cheeseburger. Cooked to
order is the way to go. This place is getting crowded now, so I guess the word
is out that the food is good. And the scenery in here for a gay kids like me,
or teen girls like the giggly group in the booth across from us at the counter,
is awesome. A scenery of cute teen boys, too young for me, but just right for
the girls. That's if the boys are still interested in girls by the end of the
summer. When paying the cashier/owner, I look him in the eyes and his eyes get
bigger, "Need a job, son?" he asks. I go, "No, why would you ask
that?" He switches to stern, "No reason, the bill please." I
hand it to him and treat Chubby to lunch. We look for a pay phone on our way
back, but they're scarce. Then we see one and Chubby goes, "Let me handle
this, Dylan." This phone system charges four quarters for a local call.
Between us we come up with four quarters and Chubby calls and gets switched to
a detective. Chubby rattles off what we know and suggest someone check it out
before they wind-up with an embarrassing scandal on their hands. From what I
can hear at this end of the conversation the detective must be trying to get
Chubby to give him his name, and finally Chubby just hangs up, and says, "They
won't do anything, Dylan. He says anonymous accusations come from disgruntled
acquaintances of, in this case, the owner of the restaurant." We're
walking towards our duplex again, I say, "He just said that to get you to
give your name, but they have to follow-up on all anonymous tips. That's how
they solve most of the crimes they solve. Someone needs to tell them where to
look. Most cops couldn't find there asshole with two hands and a
flashlight." Chubby says, "You and I have never been a fan of the
police, but I hope you're right and this time they do some good."

We change into swimsuits and take our beach
chairs and a football to the beach. Big greeting from the moms, and now that
we're here they can go back to the duplex for lunch while we watch their stuff.
We can't toss the football on this beach because of the lifeguard. When the
moms come back Chubby and I will wander over about two blocks and see if we can
get a two-hand touch football game started on that beach. In the meantime we
soak-up some rays and improve our tans. Summer tans improve everyone's looks.
Sitting in my beach chair with my cool sunglasses on and my t-shirt off, I look
at the passing parade. Many people walk the beaches just like Chubby and I do,
so sometimes we're the passing parade and sometimes they are. Still not enough
cute teen boys to suit me, but maybe I'm just in an unfortunate section of
beach. It's all pot luck in that regard. Oh, hmmm, speaking of cute boys, three
guys about my age just came out of the water and they're headed up the beach
towards Chubby and me. Nice short haircuts and good bodies on all of them, but
I can see the tattoos on them from fifty yards away. One of the guys looks cute
from here and the closer they get to me, as they talk animatedly and jostle
each other, the cuter this one kid looks. Now I can see his face clearly and
unfortunately he's got thin wire rings through his nose, eyebrows, and lips.
God! Why would someone do that? It's not like I'm all that concerned if someone
isn't good looking, but what's wrong with looking the best you can. And when
you're blessed with good looks like this kid, don't fuck it up with piercing's
or tattoos. It mystifies me why guys and girls fuck-up their appearance by a
tattoo on their face or neck, or sticking metal studs through their nose or
lip. I mean, look at this kid, he's got six wire rings piercing his face. What
the fuck?! Yeah, yeah, I know... they think they've improving their appearance,
but get real, being weirdly different doesn't improve anything, if you ask me.
I suppose everyone has the right to their own opinion, and so do I and that's
mine: looking like a freak doesn't improve one's appearance. Chubby asks,
"What are you thinking about, Dylan? You look pissed-off about
something." I go, "Look at that kid who just picked-up a towel about
twenty feet down, directly down from us. He'd be cute except for all that shit
piercing his face." Chubby asks, "Why do you care? You don't even
know him." I shrug, "I don't know, it just infuriates me that people stick
metal in their face. Have you ever noticed guys with extenders in their
earlobes? Hideous! I saw a kid, he wasn't good looking to start with, but that
wasn't bad enough, he had put black extender ear rings the size of half dollars
in reach earlobe to take his appearance from plain not good looking all the way
to hideous. A horrible look. It reminds me of pictures in National Geographic
we looked at in high school. African natives had all kinds of shit piercing
their ears and lips, and everything, until they don't even look human. And now
our modern, computerized civilization, is following their lead. Seems to me it
should be the other way around." Chubby laughs, "The things you let
bother you are so fucking funny. And, you have pierced ears and a tattoo as
well." I go, "Sure, in moderation, not freakish extremes."
Chubby chuckles, "Oh, you know just the right amount. Anyone who takes it
further than you is a freak. Is that it?" I go, "Why are you picking
on me? You should be on my side." He says, "I am, I am, brother. I'll
always be on your side, now and forever." I mutter, frowning, "That's
better."

Getting up I go through the big satchel the moms
lugged down. I'm looking for sunscreen, and here it is. "Chubby, we need
sunscreen today," and he's like, "Good idea." Chubby stands and
I wipe sunscreen on his shoulders, ears, arms, and face. The sun is intense
today and it's almost like I can feel it burning my skin. Kneeling in the sand,
I wipe the smooth sunscreen cream on his legs and doing that gives me a boner.
God dammit, that's embarrassing, but Chubby has the nicest shaped legs ever. He
says, "My back too, Dylan, and then I'll do you." I look up at him,
and say, "I got a boner doing your awesome legs." He laughs, then
says, "I'll get one doing the tops of your feet, so we're even." I
try adjusting my hard dick sideways so it isn't poking out my swimsuit so
noticeable, and then put sunscreen on the top of Chubby's feet. No way to avoid
standing up, so I do with my hand sort of covering my lap. If anyone of our
fellow sunbathers is looking at me, there's no way they won't know I've
got a boner. Spreading the cool lotion on Chubby's back does nothing to lessen
the stiffness of my cock, and then Chubby rubbing the sunscreen on me gets my
cock even harder. Chubby's trying not to laugh, but he blurts out a laugh
anyway, saying, "Dylan, you're awesome!" Covered in sunscreen I
thankfully sit down with a towel across my lap and glance around, but don't see
anyone gawking at me. Chubby lights a cigarette still chuckling and it makes me
laugh too. He says, "It's fun knowing you, bro." I take the cigarette
and pretend to pout, but blurt out a laugh myself. Getting a boner putting
sunscreen on my brother, that's fucking pathetic.

My boner's only a memory by the time the moms
return. They're bubbly as usual, excited their boyfriends are joining them
tomorrow. My mom asks me, "What should we do for your birthday,
sweetheart?" I say, "Just ignore it. I'm not happy about leaving my
teen years." Mom says, "I'm giving you a cute birthday card with
money in it so you can buy something you like for yourself." Knowing my
mom, she probably read a hundred birthday cards to find just the right one.
Tris says, "Me too, Dylan, and your mom and me, plus our boyfriends are
taking you and Jeffrey to dinner. Where would you like to eat?" I say,
"Well thank you, ladies, money's always the perfect gift as far as I'm
concerned. Bushe's is my favorite shore restaurant, but we were just there so
how about the Waterfront restaurant in Somers Point?" Chubby says,
"Yeah, that's a cool place. I want to go to the Crab Shack in Ocean City
for my birthday dinner, and money is good for me too, lots of it." The
moms laugh and we talk about the birthday dinners a bit with both Chubby and me
imploring the moms not to tell the waitresses it's our birthday. In these
places if you tell the waitress or waiter it's someone's birthday they'll get
the staff all marching to your table after dinner with a cupcake and a lit
candle as they sing happy birthday with everyone in the restaurant gawking at
you, and that's uber embarrassing. The mom's promise they won't mention it's
our birthday, but they will.

Chubby and I carry the football with us as we
walk in the sand to the beach two blocks over. It's not as crowded here as our
lifeguard beach, and there aren't any younger kids because their parents want a
beach with a life guard, which is perfectly understandable. It also happens to
keep the little people off the other beaches. Mostly guys and girls appearing to
be in their twenties are on this beach, music blaring from a number of groups,
some of whom are obviously imbibing alcoholic beverages. They're not doing it
conspicuously, like drinking from a can of beer, but they're boozing it up just
the same. The ones holding paper cups are the drinkers. You usually don't hold
a paper cup and sip on it regularly while smoking cigarettes at the same time
everyone else in your group is doing the same thing, unless it's some kind of
booze in the cups. Chubby and I start tossing the ball back and forth, away
from the sunbathers, nearer the parking lot so we're not bothering anyone
closer to the ocean. A big mouth guy yells over, "No ball playing on the
beach," someone yells at that guy, "Get serious, dude," and then
he says to Chubby, "Toss it here." Chubby does and three guys with
that guy get up and join our group. It's not long before others join us and
then someone organizes everything, there's always a take-charge type. We get a
game of two-hand-touch football going. It inevitably happens this way, and it's
cool except none of the guys are particularly interesting to look at, and
there's four girlfriends of guys playing, who insist on playing too. Why girls
want to do everything guys do is something that I don't get. They want to be
treated as girls, but at the same time they want to act like guys. Penis envy
no doubt. One girl is good at catching the football while the other three just
get in the way. The game starts friendly enough, but everyone's competitive
juices start to flowing and it gets serious. No rough stuff, just increased
concentration levels and the arguments that go with that. It's fun though, I'm
not implying it's not. There are six on a side in the beginning, but that
raises to eight on a side as others join in. I can tell the ones in the game
who are slightly inebriated, not only by their breath, but their eye hand
coordination as well. It's kinda funny actually. The game goes on for a hour
and a half, but the sun and heat take their toll and the game fizzles out with
both sides claiming victory. The score keeping left something to be desired.

Chubby and I walk back to join the moms to drop
off the football and swim for a half hour doing body surfing with me spotting a
cutie at last. He's probably too young for me, but I'm not planning on having
sex with him, just body surfing into him. After awhile he catches on I'm doing
it on purpose, and laughingly tells me, "Just for the record, I'm not gay,
but feel free to surf into me any time you feel like it, and for you I'll
pretend I'm gay." I go, "That's mighty big of you, I'm Dylan."
He's Junior Ryder. Each time I surf into him he dunks me under the water. The
bodily contact is worth the dunking, but after a bit it gets tiresome. I rub
Junior's head, saying, "Thanks for the use of your body, Junior, but me
and my brother are gonna dry off for awhile." Junior says, "You're
the first gay kid I've ever met." I smile at him and rub his head again,
asking, "Why do you assume I'm gay?" He laughs, "Just a wild
guess, Dylan." Chubby and I walk up the beach towards our chairs. Chubby
asks, "Was that kid cute enough for you," and I go, "Yep."
We dry off in the sun as the moms go wading in the ocean up to their waist.
Later a long walk on the beach with Chubby making me laugh the whole time.
Around five-thirty we call it a day and head up to the house hauling the stuff
we and the moms brought to the beach earlier. I love it here, and tonight's the
beer party.

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

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