Date: Sat, 26 Apr 2014 18:10:20 -0700 (PDT)
From: Rob Roth <eighty.eight@rocketmail.com>
Subject: Dylan's Summer Vacation Two, Chapter 59

DYLAN'S SUMMER VACATION TWO

Chapter 59

by Donny Mumford

My brother and I had a great afternoon on the
beach, we're feeling especially frisky because we caught up on our sleep last
night. Actually we slept until almost eleven o'clock this morning. We needed
that to recharge our batteries. This morning was also special because I got to
give Chubby a haircut, which I always enjoy doing, and then there was this cute
kid on our beach too. Well, he was in the water actually. I ran into him while
body surfing, sort of accidentally on purpose... haha. He's says he's not gay,
but pretended he was for the fun of it. Cute! I repeatedly body surfed into
him, getting dunked under the salty water each time, but the awesome bodily
contact was well worth getting dunked. He's probably an only child down here
with his parents, and not knowing anyone else, he consequently was glad to have
a playmate for awhile, so to speak. I'm always happy to accommodate someone
cute, like Junior Ryder. I'll be looking for him tomorrow. Chubby's taking a
shower, and I'll be doing the same when he's done. Right now I'm on the deck
with the moms doing a little front loading in preparation for the beer party
Chubby and I are going to later tonight. The moms are
enjoying marguerite's and a cigarette, while I'm imbibing a Rolling Rock
beer, without a cigarette. Both moms pretend they don't smoke, but Chubby and I
know they do, just like they know we smoke, but pretend we don't. We don't
smoke in front of the moms to help keep the farce going that we're nonsmokers.
Their excuse for smoking in front of me this afternoon is that they're on
vacation. I don't know what little white lie number that is for them, but I'm
working up in the 6000's with my little white lies... ha ha. I try to be
judicious about categorizing lies as little white, basically harmless ones, and
real bald faced lies, which I try hard to avoid and only turn to in emergency
situations.

Tris says, "Dylan, honey, what are you and
your brother planning for tonight?" I go, "Just a get together over
in Wildwood Crest with some college kids. Chubby ran into a friend from
Merrimack on the beach yesterday, and the guy invited us over, sort of."
See that wasn't even a little white lie because it was mostly the truth. Sure,
I left out 'beer party', but only to spare the moms the need to worry about us.
When you basically lie by omission, but for the right reasons, in this case so
the moms don't need to worry about us, it isn't a lie at all. It's called being
considerate, which we could use more of in this world of ours. Just doing my
part to make life relaxing for the family I love. Mom says, "Oh, that's so
nice, running into a college friend here in Wildwood. I often wonder why we
don't see someone we know from all these people. Don't you, Tris?" Tris
takes a tiny sip of her drink, one drink can easily last the moms an hour. Tris
answers, "Absolutely, Dee, we've become friends with so many regular
customers at the restaurant you'd think we'd run into one or two down
here." Mom's like, "I suppose most of them go to the Cape for
vacation, wouldn't you think?" I tune out because the moms, God bless 'em,
can take an innocuous discussion like this and run with it endlessly, and sure
enough mom's now telling Tris about a customer who told her she ran into
someone she knows when vacationing in Jamaica... and on and on it goes with
Tris remembering a time... but, like I said, I tuned-out so I don't know the
rest of that one. I tune-out, but it makes me smile that these two friends of a
life time never run out of things to talk about together. It makes me feel warm
and cozy inside knowing they share a friendship almost as deeply felt as
Chubby's and mine. There's really nothing like a best friend, one who knows and
loves everything about you... an unconditional love that you always know is
there. Nothing else like it in the world.

Done his shower Chubby steps out on the deck
shiny clean, then spots my bottle of Rolling Rock, grins at me with his eyes
sparkling, and goes back inside. He reappears with a beer of his own along with
his awesome smile. He's so fucking cute! His mom says, "Jeff, I love your
new haircut. Both you boys are so handsome, you make us so proud. Don't they,
Dee?" Chubby and I exchange  grins because this is one of the moms'
favorite topics, Chubby and me. We sit here grinning and sipping our beer as we
savor the familiar compliments, and one of the compliments even supports my
earlier premise...  my mom says, "And you boys have never given us
the worries that some boys cause their poor mothers. You two stay out of
trouble, work hard, and take care of yourselves marvelously." Chubby and
me mutter our thanks for the compliments, and we even deserve one or two of
them. Chubby spots the moms' ashtray and innocently asks, "Have you two
taken up smoking cigarettes?" Tris and my mom exchange quick looks, then
Tris says, "No, not at all, Jeffrey. It's something we treat ourselves to
just when we're on vacation. We figure a few cigarettes won't hurt us." I
wonder if that little white lie gets a number for Tris since she already was
assigned a little white lie number when she told that whopper to me... hee hee.
Done my beer I excuse myself and go inside to take a shower. They're discussing
what we'll do about dinner tonight. It seems they're leaning towards takeout
seafood again and that's fine with me.

The shower really felt great, like showers always
do, and then I put my coolest clothes on, which basically consist of the stuff
Willie's bought for me over the years. A silky-material black sleeveless
t-shirt and tan khaki Bermuda shorts, both bought by Willie in Nordstrom's for
about a $100 each. Sleeveless tee 'cause I like my cool tattoo to show and I
have biceps that look like I lift, although I've never touched a weight in my
life. I'm wearing my Salvatore Ferragamo leather sandals tonight. Willie
crazily spent $249 for these babies. The good thing about the expensive stuff
is that while it's cool, nobody I hangout with has a clue these things cost as
much as they did, and I don't tell 'em either. It's be embarrassing because no
one in their right mind would pay that much for these clothes when they don't
particularly look expensive. I'd never guess the price of these items either if
Willie didn't  tell me. Needless to say a person needs to have way too
much spendable income, and be a little looney, to pay these stupid prices for
things anyone could buy for a fifth the cost, and those clothes would wear and
look just as good as these. Same thing applies to my David Yurman cross
necklace. This cost a thousand bucks, but you could easily find one just as
cool for a fifth the cost and maybe even less than that. Ditto for the sports
watch Willie gave me, that I wear almost all the time. I let the necklace hang
outside the t-shirt and then I check my hair although there's not much I can do
with hair this short. Hmm, checking myself out in the mirror, I look a little
like a cute bad-boy with this haircut. I'm feeling really good tonight. When I
rejoin Chubby and the mom's, Tris says, "Whoa, looking good tonight,
Dylan." I go, "Yeah, I do, don't I?" Chubby tries messy my hair
unsuccessfully, saying, "You're gonna show me up tonight, bro. Pull your
shirt tail out or something, you look too perfect." I smirk at him because
I like compliments, especially from Chubby.

The moms changed their minds and now would like
us to eat together in-house tonight so Chubby and I quickly volunteer to do the
shopping, mostly because the moms have little to no experience doing that. They
eat dinner at the restaurant where they work six nights a week, and go out the
other night when Chubby and I are at Merrimack and can't prepare dinner on
Sunday. We've been doing this food shopping and cooking since we were tweeners
at about eleven or twelve years old. We like doing it. Outside, the heat wave
has let up a little, now in the low eighties and quite pleasant so we put the
windows down in the Jeep, then drive to a farm stand we've used before. There
we buy sweet corn on the cob that was picked mere hours ago, and big fat ripe
tomatoes and a couple of pickling cucumbers. Then Chubby wants some pole beans
to make succotash, so we get a pound of those. He'll make the succotash using
fresh cut kernel corn, cut right off the cob, and the pole beans when they've
been taken from their pods. That's not for tonight though. At the grocery store
we buy chicken parts, heavy on the wings, and from the deli section homemade
potato salad, which isn't nearly as good as we make, but we're on vacation so
we take a shortcut and buy it. There's a gas grille on the duplex's deck so
we'll grille the chicken adding barbecue sauce, that I'll make myself, the last
five minutes of cooking time so it gets a slight chard on it. Chubby's in a
good mood too, but tells me disturbing news. "Um, Dylan, brother that I
love more than life itself, don't get mad, but I invited Jen and her sister to
the beer party. Marcus said bring dates if we can find any girl who'd come with
us, and I didn't care for that comment. That numbnuts thinks he's a hot shit
with that stocky girlfriend of his, and I'm being kind using the word
stocky." I'm driving the Jeep listening to this, and now Chubby's looking
at me for my reaction, but I have no reaction to his news. He asks, "Are
you pissed at me?" I say, "Of course not, bring the girls on. I don't
dislike girls, but I don't know why they need to do everything us guys do."
Chubby squeezes my hand, saying, "Whew, I thought I was in trouble with my
bro." Well I was looking forward to hanging with Chubby tonight, that's
true enough, but I can share him. He enjoys the girls so I don't want to ruin
it for him by pouting. Anyway, do twenty year old guys pout? I probably will,
but I'll reserve a good pout to get my way for something more important than
this.

At the duplex the moms have finally finished
their first drink and are in the kitchen making a big production out of putting
together a second one for each of them. Chubby and I grab a beer and wait on
the deck for them to finish so as not to be underfoot in the kitchen. The moms
need a lot of space, including half the available counter space, to make
margaritas. Chubby asks, "Will you, you know, keep Julie company tonight,
at least until some guy hits on her and relieves you of that
responsibility?" I go, "For you, absolutely." He's like,
"You know Julie has a boyfriend, but when she heard you'd be at the party
she wanted to come too. She's cheating on her boyfriend, but she insisted on
coming anyway because she thinks you're hot." I go, "Well, she's
right, I am hot, but not the way she thinks. I guess you didn't mention I'm
gay." Swallowing some beer the way Chubby can do it, just letting it flow
down his throat without swallowing, he says, "Of course not, it's not my
job to run around announcing my brother's gay." I go, "Hey, that
sounds like you're ashamed that I'm gay." Chubby says, "That's not
it, Dylan, I couldn't be more proud of you, gay or straight. I think you're the
most awesome person I've ever met, or ever hope to meet, and I mean that from
the bottom of my heart." I go, "Well, okay then. It'd break my
fucking heart if you were ashamed I'm gay. We don't choose to be gay, ya know, we're
born this way and I for one am happy I was born this way. And I mean no offense
or put-down of heterosexual life style at all, I'm just content with being who
I am." Chubby mumbles, "Well said, bro," and then he lets more
beer flow down his throat. I watch, then say, "Dude, you're going to get
drunk doing that. You drink too fast when you don't swallow." He says,
"Well if I get drunk you'll take care of me so I'm not worried about
it." I go, "Yeah, but how about the hangover tomorrow morning?"
He's like, "I'm certainly not going to worry about something that far in
my future, I'm rocking the present." The moms come out with their drinks
and the ears of corn. My mom says, "We'll shuck the corn boys," and I
say, "Be diligent about getting every single silk thread," and the
moms laugh, then Tris goes, "Yes, Dylan, we know you're a stickler for
that, don't we, Dee?" My mom's like, "Oh yes, we'll be diligent,
honey," although they won't be. Chubby and I will get the random threads off
before dropping the corn in the pot to cook.

Chubby gets the grille going and I go in the
kitchen to make the barbecue sauce, but first I get a big pot of water and put
it over a high flame on the stove for the corn. Just eyeballing the amounts, I
put ketchup, dark brown sugar, honey, spicy brown mustard, and some cider
vinegar in a small sauce pan and turn-on the burner to medium.Then I mash a
clove of garlic until it's like a paste and dump that in along with a sprinkle
of onion powder, garlic powder, and just a tiny bit of clove powder. Lastly
some cracked pepper and then stir everything with a small wire whisk. After a
couple of minutes I taste it and add more brown sugar and a shot of red hot
sauce for a little bit of heat. Chubby comes in to get the chicken, but stops
to taste the barbecue sauce. He says, "Perfect as usual," and then he
seasons the chicken with salt, pepper, and a dry chicken rub. I say, "Put
the thighs and breast on first. Give 'em a head start, then the legs, and
lastly the wings." He stares at me until I ask, "What?" and
Chubby goes, "Who taught you how to grill chicken?" I shrug, "I
don't remember," and he's like, "Think of all your relatives,"
and I go, "Oh yeah, I guess you did. I'm just reminding you what you told
me, that's all. Jeez!" He gives me a hug, then drizzles a little olive oil
on each piece of chicken and they go out on a tray to the grille. I spoon the
potato salad out of it's container into a serving dish, then slice the tomatoes
and cucumbers onto a plate. No salad dressing for tomatoes that are this ripe
and fresh. Adding anything to the them except some salt would detract from
their flavor, which is perfect as is. The cucumbers get a splash of wine
vinegar and a sprinkle of salt and pepper. The moms bring the shucked corn in
and then go about setting the table on the deck. Chubby and I examine the ears
of corn removing the silk threads missed by the moms, as I ask, "How long
till the chicken's done?" Chubby mumbles, "I'm adding your barbecue
sauce now, so five minutes. Put the corn in now so it'll be done at the same
time as the chicken." What we'll do is eat the corn on the cob as an
appetizer while the chicken rests. At the table five minutes later I bring out
the corn on the cob, each ear dripping in melted butter and sprinkled with salt.
The little white kernels snap when we bite then so that tells me they're cooked
perfectly. Yum, yum, delicious. Chubby and I have two ears each, the moms just
the one ear each. With our food, we're drinking iced tea the moms made from
scratch before going to the beach this morning. That's about the outside limit
of their culinary skills, but their awesome at many other things. Chubby and I
squeeze wedges of fresh lime into ours iced teas and add lots of sugar, the
moms use lemon wedges and just a little sugar. Corn on the cob looks disgusting
after it's been eaten so the cobs immediately get tossed in the trash, and then
out comes the barbecued chicken, potato salad, and sliced tomato and cucumber
plate. Lots of conversation at dinner with the moms excited about their
boyfriends joining them tomorrow, while Chubby and me are trying to get our
heads around the idea we'll both no longer be teenagers by Friday.

It's so pleasant enjoying foods you really like
in the company of happy people you love. It's an unsung gift of happenstance
that's mostly taken for granted by those of us who experience it, and a
heartache for those who don't. After dinner we all help clean up, both the
outside table and the kitchen. There are two chicken legs and a breast left over,
but cold barbecue chicken won't last long with Chubby and me around. It gets
covered and put in the refrigerator. Everything else on the table was consumed
during dinner, seventy percent by us boys and the rest by the moms. After
eating corn on the cob it's advisable to floss your teeth and brush them good,
for obvious reasons. Chubby and I do that and then wash our face and hands and
bid the moms a goodnight. They'll have another cocktail talking their
never-ending conversation on the deck, maybe watch some TV, and then get to bed
early to be fresh for their twin boyfriends tomorrow. This will be the last early night to bed for the moms.
They can party with the best of them clubbing with their guys, so they'll
undoubtedly be sleeping late and getting to the beach no earlier then noon the
rest of the week. As for me, I've had some unexpected luck during this vacation
in the romance department, and while I'm not expecting anymore until I get
home, I'm definitely not closing the door on any realistic opportunity for
more. I'm just not getting my hopes up.

We drive off in the Jeep with Chubby at the
wheel and me reading the direction we were given by Marcus. The house where the
party's at is supposedly located behind the parking lot of The Surf Bar and
Grille, but we can't find the damn restaurant. Ya know, someone give's you
written directions and tells you to turn right at some street, when they meant
to say left, and before you know it you're lost. Chubby pulls over and asks a
middle age couple waiting to cross the street if they've heard of the
restaurant we're looking for, and the woman says, "Sure, I waitress
there," and she gives us directions ending with, "You can't miss it.
Order their she-crab soup, it's fantastic." Chubby thanks her and drives
off in the direction she told him to, with me asking, "What the hell is
she-crab soup?" Chubby says, "We'll probably never know because we're
not going in the damn restaurant, we're only going in their parking lot."
It only requires Chubby asking one more person how to get to the restaurant and
we're there. Chubby says, "We should get a GPS," as he's parking in
the lot. We're as far away from the restaurant as it's possible to be. Sure
enough, we see a small house down a short embankment with about fifty college-age
kids making a lot of noise. We get out of the Jeep and step through the opening
between cement barriers that are probably here to keep the restaurant's patrons
from driving over the embankment and crashing into the house below. As were
negotiating the embankment, being careful not to fall on our ass and make an
embarrassing entrance, three guys and two girls get out of a car and follow us,
asking, "Is this Al Foster's party?" I go, "Ya got me. We were
invited by a friend of a friend," then one of the girls losses her footing
and slides down the embankment on her ass. As if that's not bad enough, she's
wearing white short that now have a green grass-stained ass. It's hard not to
laugh, not that any of us seven bothers trying not to. We're all laughing at the
poor girl who slid down the slope, but so is she and it occurs to me these guys
are drunk already.

There's medium loud music from a CD player,
instead of a live band, with some people dancing and a couple conspicuously
making out, and mostly a lot of yelling and guzzling beer. No one pays us any
attention so Chubby and I look at each other, shrug, and then head for one of
the beer kegs. The one with the most kids around it is where they're doing 'keg
stand', which means one guys pumps the keg and another guy, in this case a girl
wearing very little clothing, pours beer from the keg tap directly into the mouth
of a guy sitting with his head back and his mouth open. A number of big mouths
are loudly counting out the seconds the drinking guy's been gulping down the
beer. We stop to watch this familiar college party ritual, and when the count
gets to ten the tap's turned off and everyone cheers the guy in the chair for
not throwing up. Chubby shakes his head, muttering, "Childish keg
stand." I say, "I believe you got hammered a couple of times over at
Tracy's doing keg stands." Chubby makes a face, "That's when I was a
freshman." I laugh, and then ask, "Do ya think they got enough beer
for everyone here if they're going to be doing keg stands?" He says,
"They've got two half kegs and each one contains, or did at one time, at
least fourteen gallons of beer, or about a hundred and forty cans of
beer." I ask, "Fourteen gallons, really?" and he's like,
"Yeah, and there's two kegs so for this party some genius thinks they need
twelve cases of beer." I say, "Well, there's about fifty people hear
so that's about a six pack each, so the genius was right." Chubby goes,
"Yeah, if our math's correct, which I'm not betting my life on, so lets
get our share," and we grab a couple of plastic cups and move over to the
other tap. When it's our turn Chubby take the tube coming from the keg and
release the gizmo at the end, I pump the keg and out comes the amber colored
liquid. Chubby says, "Hey, somebody here knows how to tap a keg of beer.
Remember that frat party we crashed where the beer coming out of the keg was
all head and no beer?" With cups of beer we walk around and run into
Marcus and his girlfriend. We all say, "Hi," but she pulls on Marcus'
arm, saying, "We're looking for my sister, Marcus, not bull shitting with
frat brothers." Pussy-whipped Marcus waves at us and follows his
super-stocky girlfriend. I go, "Frat brothers?" Chubby's like,
 "She's just right for Marcus." I'm not sure what he means by
that. We walk around to the front of this smallish house and find a group of
guys and girls drinking and laughing, plus Julie and Jen. They're talking to
two guys who aren't wearing shirts. Julie spots us and comes over as one of the
hairy animals she was talking to, yells, 'Hey, where ya going, Julie,
baby?" Without looking back she waves at the guy, sorta like, 'Take a
hike'. She smiles cutely, saying to me, "There you are. I was afraid you
were hiding from me. I get hot for the quiet, shy types like you, plus you're
so cute I feel like pinching your cheek," and then she does pinch my
cheek.

I frown, then mumble "Don't do that,
please," and she wraps her arm around my arm like she did on the
boardwalk, making a face that I guess is suppose to be sexy. She bats her eyes
at me, and whispers in my ear, "You're afraid of me, aren't you?" I
mutter, "Nice perfume. But, no, I'm not afraid of you." Chubby and
Jen join us, as Chubby goes, "Lets get the girls a beer." Jen asks,
"Do they have anything but beer, Jeffrey?" He goes, "How the
hell would I know? I don't even know who's party this is." Just as we turn
the corner to the back of the house a girl doing a keg stand, burps loudly,
then hurls straight up in the air. Chubby bursts out laughing and the girls go,
"Ewwww, oh my god, that's disgusting!" I ask Julie, "Why do
girls want to do everything guys do?" She says, "Because we can,"
and I nod at the girl dripping in her own puke, muttering, "She
couldn't." Jen says, "Guys hurl too, Dylan. Don't be a male
chauvinist pig." Chubby's quick with a factoid, "That phrase
originated in the sixties, Jen, and has been kept alive by feminist ever
since." She snaps back, "And what's wrong with woman expecting equal
rights with men?" Chubby says, "Nothing, it's when they want more
than equal rights that I object to it." Jen goes, "Oh you," and
puts her arm around Chubby's waist. The CD's blaring out club dance music,
famous for it's contagious fast beat, in this case it's, 'The Candy Dealers'
latest CD, "Danger Zone" and it gets quite a few people dancing. I
watch them as Chubby gets the girls beers. It helps to be drunk if you're fast
dancing, especially when you basically don't know what the fuck you're doing,
like half the guys who are dancing here. Almost every girl knows how to dance,
although I don't know why that is. Some of these guys dancing in the driveway
look like spastics. It'd be fun to videotape them and show it to them when
they're sober.

This smallish summer residence is below the
restaurant's parking lot level, and at the end of a cul-de-sac, so it's ideal
for a loud, wild party like this one. It would have been broken-up by the cops
by now if it was in a normal neighborhood setting. Chubby's already on his
second beer so he appears determined to get hammered tonight as the four of us
find a spot that's not too crowded near the garage, and then Chubby entertains
us with some of his more bizarre factoids that neither of the girls believes,
but I know they're more than likely true. I've never caught Chubby with a
factoid that wasn't true, although I haven't diligently followed up on too many
of them. We learn from the twin sisters they go to the same college and will be
sophomores like Chubby and me. After I get us fresh beers the girls try to
outdo Chubby and me describing wild parties they've been to during their
freshman year at college, and unless they're bullshiting us, they have been to
more outrageous parties than we have. We all start smoking with our next beer
and then join a big group of guys and girls cheering-on two drunks in a fist
fight. Everyone is enjoying the fight except, probably, the two guys fighting.
From overheard comments around us no one seems to know what started the fight
and no one seems to know who these guys are. This party spread by word of mouth
and it's impossible to determine who actually is throwing this drunken affair.
Jen and Julie think the fighting is disgusting and I agree with them. The fight
ends like most fights, with the combatants wrestling and now they're basically
clutching each other on the ground. Finally three or four guys mercifully pull
the two apart and except for one guy with a bloody nose, it seems no serious
harm came to either. Well, except for their clothes which have taken a bit of a
beating.

The dancing begins again and Julie wants to
dance. I had two beers at the duplex a couple hours ago, and since then three
cups from the keg so dancing seems like a good idea to me by now. Julie turns
out to be an excellent dancer and, surprisingly, I find I'm having fun. There's
a degree of exhibitionism involved in dancing and Willie taught me how to dance
cool, so I'm showing off a little. Then I glance up and look right at a hot
sexy kid about my age who's staring directly at me. When I make eye contact
with him he stares defiantly right back at me. There's something arrogant about
him although he's very youthful looking with sort of a baby face. Only it's a
baby face with a sparse mustache and he's got a little chin whiskers thingie
going for him too. Cute! His facial hair and the longish hair on his head are
both my favorite shade of light brown, almost a dirty blond color. We're in a staring
contest, which ain't easy when dancing. The tune ends and Julie and I wipe the
perspiration from our foreheads. "Whew, that was so neat, Dylan, you dance
good for a guy. Lets get a beer." I shrug, looking around for the hot dude
I had the staring contest with, but he's nowhere to be found now. At the keg a
big guy says to Julie, "Let me pump for you, beautiful," meaning pump
the keg I think. She does something with her big breasts and flirts with the
guy, feeling his right bicep, saying, "You sure you can handle it?" I
take this opportunity to say to her, "I'll catch you later Julie, I just
saw someone I know from college that I gotta give him a shout out to." She
doesn't answer because the big guy is telling her, "Julie, that's a pretty
name..." He says more but I'm lost in the crowd by now and don't hear the
end of it.

Around in front of the house again, I light a
cigarette and take a needed drag as one of the shirtless guys I saw earlier
asks me, "What's your name?" I go, "Bill Belichick," and
he's like, "Cut the crap, who are you?" I say, "Who are any of
us, and why do you want to know my name?" He frowns, "What?" I
go, "It was a two part question. I raised the metaphysical question about
human identity, and then the more worldly question of why you want to know who
I am?" The other shirtless guy grabs the first guy's arm pulling him away,
saying, "Ralphie, ya gotta see this." Ralphie looks back and points
at me, but apparently can't think of anything to say. I've had just enough booze
to be a wiseass... for all I know Ralphie is one of the guys responsible for
this party and he wants to know who the fuck all these strangers drinking his
beer. I ask out loud to myself, "What's wrong with this picture?" and
answer myself in my head, 'Ya don't have a beer, dummy!' Making my way to the
back yard again someone's arm goes around my neck from behind. I ask,
"Ralphie?" and realize the arm around my throat is too thin to be
muscle bound Ralphie's. The side of someone's face is pressed to mine preventing
me from turning my head. Then side of the face, asks, "Are you gay?"
He and I are leaning sideways against the clapboard side of the house. For some
reason I say, "Yeah, I'm gay, what about it?" He says, "I knew
it," and pushes my back against the house with him leaning into me chest
to chest. It's the hot boy I had the staring contest with. He's grinning, his
face close to mine, "We need to find someplace a little more private and
get to know each other. I'm Jake, who are you?" I didn't feel like telling
Ralphie my name, but Ralphie isn't cute and hot like Jake here. I mutter,
"Dylan. Why do we need to get to know each other better?" He says,
"Because you want to. Your eyes are beautiful, but they give you away.
You're body language too." Jake isn't the first person to tell me that,
but I swear to God I don't know what they're referring to. I can't think of a
snarky response, so settle for muttering, "Oh," and he chuckles, then
says, "Has anyone ever told you you're cute?" Instead of answering
that, I go, "Look who's talking," and he kisses my lips, mumbling,
"You taste as good as you look." I say, "Thanks, but people are
looking at us." He shrugs, then takes my hand and leads me down the front
walk away from the party, and I'm wondering why I'm going with him. I guess
it's because I'm intrigued and I told myself earlier if the opportunity
presents itself, take it. First Jumper and now Jake, but Jake's cuter than
Jumper by leaps and bounds. When we're at the end of the block we take a right,
and I ask, "Jake, where we going?" He says, "My place. All my
roommates are getting drunk at Al's beer bash so we got the place to
ourselves."

Still holding my hand Jake walks next to me now,
and asks, "How come you're doing what I say?" I mutter, "I'm
waiting for the opportunity to call the police and inform them I've been
kidnapped." He stopped and jerks on my hand, saying, "You're cute
enough to eat, but if you're going to be a smart ass, run along," and he
lets go of my hand and stares at me. Hmmm, what to do? I'm really intrigued
now, so I take his hand, saying, "Sorry." He nods and starts walking
again, adjusting his hand so that he's holding mine instead of me holding his.
A fine distinction perhaps, but I get it and I'm also getting a hard dick.
Dammit! My damn dick has a mind of it's own and Jake's little lecture screams
to me that he's a dominant, confident kid which is very sexually attractive to
me. Jumper wasn't that way at all. He was pushy enough, but a laughing box
compared to Jake, who asks again, "How come you're doing what I say?"
I decide on honesty, "Because you're hot and cute and I promised myself if
an opportunity presented itself I'd see if it developed into something I like,
and if so, see where it goes." He says, matter of fact, "You already
know where it's going, you're going to get fucked. Why were you with that
chick? I would have danced with you." I mumble, "I was doing a favor
for my brother and I didn't know you wanted to dance with me." We turn
into a driveway and go around back where there's stairs. Jake smacks my ass,
muttering, "Get up the stairs," and he follows me up as my dick gets
harder. He's a couple inches taller than me with wider shoulders to go with a
slim body that's almost as slim as mine. There's a door at the top step so I
stop. Jake reaches around me and unlocks it, and we go inside. He says,
"The last door on the right is my bedroom," followed by another smack
on my ass. I walk down the narrow hall trying inconspicuously to adjust my
boner sideways with Jake right behind me, his hand on my hip. At the door, he
says, "Well, go ahead, open it, Dylan. Is that your real name?" I
open the door, saying, "Yeah Dylan New...' he says, "No last names,
okay? We're two horny ships passing in the night, perhaps anonymously providing
each other sexual pleasure." I ask, "Why me?' and he says, "You
might as well wear a sign saying, 'Ask me, I'm game'." I say, "It's
not intentional I assure you." He lifts my t-shirt and I put my arms up so
he can pull it off, as he says, "I know it's not intentional, that's one
of the things that attracted me to you." He takes his polo shirt over his
head and unsnaps my shorts, saying, "You're wearing a thousand dollar
Yurman necklace and Ferragamo sandals. Are you one of those spoiled rich kids?
Your daddy's rich, is he?" I'm disappointed his chest is as free of hair
as mine, although he has a happy trail of very soft looking hairs from his
belly button disappearing into his pants. I go, "No, I'm far from rich.
Someone gave me these things." He lifts my wrist to look at my watch, then
looks me in the eyes, asking, "A rich sugar daddy, perhaps?" I go,
"No! I resent that, my first boyfriend was rich..." but that's as far
as I get because his hand goes behind my head and his lips are on mine with his
tongue in my mouth, and oh fuck, can he kiss... very much like Ryan does it,
only with Jake's wispy whiskers tickling my upper lip. His chest and stomach
against mine feels so tight and smooth.

It's a fifteen seconds kiss, then with his lips
on mine, he says, "You sprung a boner from holding my hand on the
sidewalk. What kind of hottie do I find myself with tonight? How many guys are
fucking you?" I shake my head a little, mumbling, "Why do you keep
insulting me, Jake?" He squeezes the back of my neck kissing me again,
getting my dick hard as a steel rod. After the kiss, he licks my cheek,
murmuring, "You're my favorite kind of gay boy. Cute like crazy, awesome
body, and a submissive streak, maybe more than a streak. I detected your
submissive nature when you so willingly let me put the side of my face against
your pretty cheek." With his arm around the back of my neck he lightly
rubs the back of his fingers over my cheek, murmuring, "So smooth, so
pretty. You're really something, Dylan. Do you have a boyfriend?" I nod my
head and we're back to staring into each others eyes again... he's hypnotic.
His eyes are bright brown and shiny, like Chubby's. He talks in a quiet very
confident way, asking, "Does your boyfriend know you're cheating on
him?" I'm getting in one of my almost hypnotic trances by now and it's a
dreamy sensation that so appealing and relaxing, I just nod my head to answer
his last question. He murmurs, "He puts up with you cheating on him
because he's so in love with you he has no choice, and I can see where he's
coming from with that. Weren't you scared when outside I told you I'm going to
fuck you?" I mutter, "A little I guess, but I don't think you're
dangerous." He grins a really cute grin with dimples in each cheek, then
asks, "Here's the big question, Dylan. Don't lie because I can tell when
someone's lying to me. How old are you? I don't fuck twinks unless they're
eighteen." I realize my hands are on his hips as he cradles me with the
arm around the back of my neck and his other arm around my waist. Wetting my
lips, I mutter, "I'll be twenty tomorrow." His eyes widen as the arm
around my waist drops so his hand can go in my back pocket and pull my wallet
out. He says, "I don't think you're lying, but I gotta check because you
hardly look eighteen, never mind twenty." Without taking his arm from my
neck he hands the wallet to me, saying, "Cover your name with a finger and
let me look at  your picture and date of birth."

With my knuckles brushing his soft happy trail,
I take out my license and hold it up for him to see, covering my name with my
index finger. He looks at it briefly, nods his head, mumbling, "Cute
picture. I knew you didn't lie, but I had to be sure. Thank you." I
realize I've been holding my breath so I let it out slowly hoping Jake doesn't
realize I held it. What the fuck was I holding my breath for anyway? As I'm
putting my license and wallet away, Jake says, "I don't usually make out
with guys I fuck, but I couldn't wait to taste you, and you don't
disappoint." He leans his head down and smells my neck just under my chin.
"Ooooh, dude, you smell good too. What is that, some kind of
cologne?" and he puts his perfect nose right against my shoulder and
inhales giving me a chill down my spine, "Mmmmm, love your scent. Good
pheromones, Dylan. Excellent," and then his mouth is on mine again sucking
gently and kissing deeply and I can feel precum drooling in my jockey shorts.
He takes his hand from around my waist and slides it inside my underpants to
squeeze my bare ass and then moves his hand around to the front lightly
scraping my bare skin with his finger nails and that gets my shoulders
shuddering. Now he's massaging my balls lightly and then his fingertips rub
around my groin as he mouth slides off mine with his tongue licking my chin,
then under my chin. I'm holding my breath again and need to gasp in air, then
moan, "Mmmmmm, ooooh." His hand encircles my boner and he slides his
hand from the root to the head. He murmurs, "Perfect. You're extremely
sensuous and receptive to me using your beautiful body as I please. Shaved
pubic hair, uncut cock, precum oozing, and the best ass I've ever squeezed.
Drop your pants now, Dylan, I want to see all of you." I'm dizzy with
desire for this gorgeous stranger. His mannerisms have me dreamily and sexually
under his control. He's all I know right this second. There isn't anyone else
on earth right now, just him and me and we're in the only room on earth.

I'm taking short panting breaths as I fumble my
pants down with Jake letting go of me entirely. He steps back a foot or so, and
when I step out of my underwear and shorts he kicks then over near his messy
bed, muttering, "Sandals too, please," and I kick them off and stand
naked in front of him, my drooling boner pointing straight up, flat against my
stomach. "Turn around, Dylan," and when I do, he says, "Bend
over and spread your pink, very hot ass cheeks." In a submissive trance I
do that and he gently pushes a finger up my ass and moves it around. He pulls
it out and I feel his tongue licking up my ass crack, then lap over my anus six
or eight times with me going up on my toes making, "Un, un, un,"
grunts. My ass muscles are contracting and it feels like the lips around my
asshole are quivering. His tongue leave my ass and I get a hard smack with the
"SLAP" sound ringing in my ears, as Jake says, "Stand up
straight now," and another hard smack on my bare ass, with the same,
"SLAP!" sound. I hop forward going, "Oh, ow!" He walks
around to stand in front of me, then kneels down, "Don't mind me, Dylan,
I'm worshiping this body you live in and I can honestly say I've ever seen it's
equal. Hell, I'm sure I haven't or I'd remember it." I say nothing going
deeper into a trance, a trance like only Ryan can get me in. Jake encircles my
ankle with both hands and draws his hands up my leg, "You have really nice
long legs, especially considering your height. What are you about five-nine or
so?" I croak out, "Ten," and he looks up, "Five feet, ten
inches?" I nod my head as he straightens-up rubbing his hands up my right
thigh to my groin and then cups my nuts, asking, "Do you and your
boyfriend shave each other's pubes, or do you do it yourself?" I nod my
head, and he asks, "Which one is it, and why don't you speak, Dylan?"
I shrug and he grins, mumbling, "It's okay if you don't feel like
talking." He grips my boner pulling it away from my stomach, and then
bends down to take it in his mouth and suck on the head. My hand is lightly on
his neck under his chin and I feel his small Adam's apple bob as he swallows my
precum. He's sucking again making my feet wiggle, and I go, "Mmmmm, aaaah,
aaah." My fingers go in his longish hair and pull on some of it a little.
His clean, light-brown hair feels good. Fine hairs thickly packed together on
his scalp. He pays me no mind as he licks the shaft of my boner, then lets it
slide from his mouth dripping with his saliva.. it wetly bounces up against my
stomach again, and I go, "Mmmmm," again. Jake reaches up and takes my
hand from his hair to hold it, asking, "May I fuck you, Dylan?" I
take a deep breath and grunt out, "Un huh."

Jake takes off his shorts and underwear, saying,
"On the bed please, and lay on your stomach. I'm going to fuck a big
orgasm out of you and then later tonight I'll sleep in your dried cum
remembering how very special you are." I lay on his bed smelling him on
the pillow and it's a very pleasant scent, but not as pronounced as some boys
I've been with. Jake has an uncut cock very much like mine, only his is
surrounded by dark pubic hairs and his isn't a boner like mine. He reaches down
to lift his shorts, that he just dropped to the floor, then takes a condom from
a pocket and brings it over to where I'm laying. He stands opposite my head,
leaning against the side of the mattress, asking, "What's missing here, Dylan?"
I shimmy over and go up on my elbow to take his firm, but not boned-up cock in
my fingers and guide it into my mouth on my tongue. Jake grins while running
his fingers through my hair, murmuring, "Thank you," as I'm tonguing
the head and sucking the shaft. Holding it in my fingers I run the head against
the inside of my cheek and along the roof of my mouth, then suck on it some
more with my tongue in constant motion and I hear Jake breathe deeply. He's
gently humping his hips sliding his hardening cock on my tongue and it gets
pretty damn hard, so when I taste precum I take his cock from my mouth and suck
on his belly and then lap at his balls getting a few pubic hairs in my mouth.
As I'm plucking them out I stroke his cock and a big gob of precum drools over
my fist. Jake says, "Now the condom," and he hands it to me. I rip it
open with my teeth and roll it onto his cock. His boner is sticking straight
out, very hard. Jack leans down and licks my face again, then asks, "You
like it hard, don't ya?" I gasp, and go, "Un huh," and he's
like, "You'll get it hard, Dylan, and I'm gonna need to be a little rough
with you, but it's not because I'm mad at you or don't like you, quite the
contrary... it's because a submissive sex partner like you deserves to get
fucked the way he likes it and I know from experience how guys such as you like
it." He lightly rubs the palm of his hand down my back to my left butt
cheek, squeezes it, then, a loud, stinging smack, "SLAP!!" I buck on
the bed and Jake hops on top of the mattress and spreads my legs. "Hunch
your ass up a little for me," and another loud, stinging,
"SLAP!!" I grunt, "Uff," and stick my ass up.

Jake spreads my butt cheeks apart and holds then
there as the slimy head of his lubricated condom-covered boner presses against
my asshole, then a big hump of his hips pushes it past my sphincter muscle
followed by a steady trip up my ass. It burns as the head of his cock steadily
spreads the walls of my rectum and when I feel his pubic hairs tickle my
buttocks he begins a steady deep thrusting with me scrunching my face against
the pain. Every penetration slams his groin against my buttocks and the
constant, "Slap, slap, slap, slap, slap," sound of his groin against
ass cheeks fills his bedroom and seems to echo off the walls announcing anal
fucking is in progress. My rectum adopts to the intrusion and a cascading
series of desirable sexually charged sensations begin spreading from my rectum
to my belly and all around my cock and balls. A long moan of pleasure drifts
out of my throat, "Ooooooh, ooh, mmmm, um, um, um, oooh," as the
steady fucking continues. Jake grips my hips and pulls them up so my face
slides off the pillow and he begins driving his boner in harder at a different
angle and my shoulders begin shuddering as I bite the sheet trying not to
humiliate myself by moaning his name. I feel my orgasm coming on as he pulls
his boner from my ass and slaps my right butt cheek three times, "SLAP!
SLAP! SLAP!" He goes, "Turn over!" followed by another "SLAP!"
I yelp as I flop over onto my back. Jake grips behind my thighs pushing my legs
back so far my back bends and my ass is off the bed. His cock slams into my
asshole and the sounds of ass fucking begin again, "Slap, slap, slap,
slap." I groan, "Aaasaaah, OOh ooh," as incredible sensations
flood my brain. When my climax hits I squeal as loud as I ever have and cum
pours from my cock splattering my face. Then , "Ummm, ahh, ahh,
oooh," as my cock fires three more blasts of creamy cum with my body
shaking . Jake pushes my legs back further and drives his boner down into my
ass as he's biting his bottom lip, groaning, "Ooooh, umpt." His face
is red when he lean against me doing tiny humps filling his condom. He lets out
a long breath as sensations fade in me. A half dozen lazy thrusts and Jake
pulls his cock out and flops down next to me to breath deeply for maybe a
minute. He's on his stomach as I lower my legs, then another shoulder shudder
as the last of my climax exits my body.

One last big breath from Jake, then he says,
"That was fast. I don't think I've ever cum that fast before." I'm in
a daze, and as I turn my head to look at him, he laughs, "You shot your
cum load on your face, Dylan. Do you do that often? Hahaha." I go,
"Um, I don't think so." Like most guys, Jake wants a compliment,
"How was it for you, dude?" I mutter, "Awesome, but like you
said, fast. I couldn't hold my orgasm off either. You were so, I don't know, so
in charge. I loved it, Jake." He reaches over to rub his fingers in some
of my cum that didn't reach past my nipples, and says, "This looks like
it's gonna be a double condom night, what do you say to that?" I go,
"Sure, Jake," and he grins, "Maybe I could fall for you, but I
don't want to do that because it'd just leave me frustrated. Where ya from anyway?
What state?" I go, "Massachusetts," and he's like, "Ah,
we're geographically challenged then. I live in Delaware." I say,
"Lucky for the gay boys in Delaware."  He grins, "I've
never meant anyone who's as comfortable being who he is as you seem to be."
I go, "I'm not always comfortable, sometimes I get intimidated by strong
personalities in guys and girls I don't know... mostly straight, rarely
gay." He says, "I'm surprised to hear that 'cause you sure responded
to me, and I have a strong personality that some claim is arrogant." I
shrug, "You're hot as far as I'm concerned. It's like I'm kinda flattered
you wanted me." Jake puts his fingers, with my cum dripping from them, to
my lips and I open my mouth to lick his fingers. He watches me as he wets his
lips with his good-tasting pink tongue, then says, "I'm a little worried
for you, Dylan. You might be susceptible to an attractive, very dominant
individual who will take advantage of your obvious submissiveness where gay sex
is concerned. There are predators out there searching for vulnerable beautiful
gay boys like you. I'd hate to think that could happen to you." I stare
into his eyes feeling much younger then Jake. "How old are you,
Jake?" He grins and says, "I'm exactly one week older then you,"
and I mutter, "Happy Birthday." He goes, "Same to you," and
we talk for an hour laying on the bed. Jake never stops touching some part of
my naked body as we discuss sports, music, gayness, and sex. He's easy to talk
to and I like the way he pays close attention to what I say. Also I like that
he seems fascinated with my body and with me in general. Who wouldn't be
flattered?

Somehow we get into another make-out and then I
suck his cum-flavored cock until we both have new boners. The cock sucking
leads to general licking on his body as he plays in my hair and squeezes the
back of my neck, then my shoulders, and rubs my back. We embrace, almost like
wrestling, as we squirm against one another feeling each others body with as
much of our own body as we can. Then Jack licks my face and down to my nipples
and on down to my belly button and finally my cock. He sucks it until I feel
another orgasm coming on so I push his head away. He murmurs, "I don't
want to stop, but if I don't I'll spunk all over us. Dylan, please get a condom
from my shorts and roll it on my boner." His voice seems to come from far
away. We haven't spoken since we began our mutual body appreciation and I'm
deep in a submissive dreamy trance. Sliding off the bed I can hardly stand as I
stare at my cock sticking straight out from my body, hard with the foreskin
stretched to an almost painful degree. I look in his short's pocket, then the
other pocket and find a single condom package. Ripping it open with my teeth
again, I manage to get up on the bed and roll the condom on his boner that's as
hard as mine. Jake murmurs, "Hands and knees," as he gets on his
knees behind me and humps his cock up my ass, then grabs my hips and fucks me
so hard I collapse onto the mattress making humiliating sounds of pleasure, but
by now I don't care and couldn't stop even if I did care. Jake fucks a climax
out of me and this times I shoot it on his sheets like he intended I do two
hours ago. When he climaxes in the second condom he falls on my back leaving
his cock up my ass. His heart pounds against my back until his deep breathing
abates. With his cock up my ass Jake sucks a hickey where my neck and right
shoulder meet. When done with that he says in my ear, "Something to
remember me by, for a few days anyway." He pulls his cock out and sits on
the edge of the bed as I lay here looking at him. He glances over at me and
says, "How about we wander back to Al's beer party and have a beer
together?" I nod my head and slowly get up. My ass is sore, but I don't
say anything. We get dressed and five minutes later we're drinking draft beer,
the too soberest guys here.

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

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