Date: Mon, 11 Apr 2016 13:13:06 -0400
From: MGTBILL@aol.com
Subject: DYLAN'S VACATION BACK HOME  Chapter  20

DYLAN'S VACATION BACK HOME



Chapter  20



by  Donny Mumford



Less then a minute after Charlie scampered down the steps of our  deck on
his way home, my Mom and Tris are coming up the steps. They're laughing  as
Mom says to me, "Hi sweetheart, was that Charlie I saw crossing the alley?" I
 go, "Yep, we had a beer and a smoke together. He's a really good kid. What
were  you and Tris laughing about?" Tris says, "Your mother thinks it's
funny that I  used the outdoor shower to rinse the sand off my feet." Mom says,
"It's not  that, it's you falling on your rear-end doing it," and they both
laugh again. I  guess it's one of those things where you had to be  there.

Seeing them though, it occurs to me neither Chubby nor I helped  them bring
the chairs, umbrella, and the other stuff up from the beach. I go,  "Oops,
about the beach chairs and all, is it...?" and Mom waves a hand at me,
saying, "Please, Dylan, don't give it a thought. Rider and Bud helped us with
everything." I mumble, "Oh, good! My thanks to the guys." The Moms go inside
and  come out a few minutes later with glasses of gin and tonic in their
hands.  They're laughing again; this time it's something Bud said, and I'm
thinking,  'They're having the best time with their fiancés on vacation with  us'.

 I get myself another beer and we all speculate where  Chubby's at. The
Moms tell me some of the things they did and talked about on  the beach today.

It's all good, and next thing on our agenda is having dinner  out.


As I'm finishing my beer Chubby comes bounding up the steps. After
greetings from the moms, Chubby and I exchange grins and do a quick hug like we
always do when we see each other. Chubby smells good and his body feels good
too. I kiss his cheek feeling a brotherly love like no other. He rubs my
head,  mumbling, "Love ya, bro," then he gives the Moms, who are sitting in
deck  chairs, shoulder hugs as I go inside to get Chubby and me a beer. We
share our  individual day's activities with each other and the moms, editing-out
 inappropriate material.  Bud and Rider are expected here for a cocktail
prior to going out to eat, so after we finish our drinks we all go inside to
shower and get dressed for tonight.

Chubby showers first in our bathroom while I email Robby and Ryan,  then
answer texts from Dodger, Connor, two ex-posse boys, and my friend with the
two inch dick from Georgia, Timmy. I feel affection for each one of them and
have only good thoughts and memories of them all. That's what happens; I
tend to  remember the good times and that's as it should be. There's others I
should  text, but Chubby's out of the shower so I take my shower thinking
about Robby.  It's all the little things he does for me, and nice things he
says to me that  are so sweet and loving. I miss him and get this feeling of
love for him so  deeply it makes my stomach hurt. Even with this love in my
heart I'm not feeling  guilty about my buddy-sex with Charlie. It's simply a
part of Robby's and my  plan to sow our wild oats before we get married.

It's working too because my  desire for side-sex isn't what it used to be. I
still enjoy the hell out of it,  but take today for example: I was perfectly
satisfied with that first sex  Charlie and I had together. The second time
was more or less just an unexpected  lark with me pretending to be dominant.

It was kinda fun with Charlie being a  submissive sex partner... sort of.

Mostly I wish Charlie could find someone to  form a relationship with; someone
other than me. He likes being a somewhat  submissive bottom so he needs a
mildly dominant confident guy as his sex-buddy.  Someone like Ryan was with me
in Georgia.

Chubby and I are out on the deck showered and feeling good when the  moms'
twin fiancés arrive. They're nine years older than us and eight years
younger than our moms. That's kind of strange, but both our Moms were a mere
seventeen years old when they gave birth to us. For years the moms were
self-conscious about us boys having the same boy/man father so they didn't tell
Chubby and me we were half-brothers until a couple of years ago. That was
very  wrong, but we've forgiven them. Huh, I wonder how much they've discussed
this  with Bud and Rider. They must have mentioned it because there's only
one way  Chubby and I could be half-brothers. It's not a topic I'm likely to
bring up  though.

Chub  and I bump fist with the twins, then Bud gives me a wrapped present,
saying,  "Happy birthday, Dylan. This is from both of us." I go, "Wow,
thanks guys! My  birthday's tomorrow though." Rider says, "Yeah, we know, but
you'll be showered  with gifts tomorrow so we thought we'd give you our's
today." I snort out a  laugh, "I don't recall ever being showered with gifts, but
thank you both."  Opening the little box I see a slim leather billfold,
then a pair of hundred  dollar bills inside. I'm a little stunned as Chubby
dead-pans, "Um, just an FYI,  my birthday's Wednesday guys, so ya know, if you
wanna..." They laugh as I give  them both a man-hug and thank them again, and
then beam at Chubby. There's just  something special about benjamins. The
guys go inside to make drinks as Chubby and I pass the hundred dollar bills
back  and forth. I'm ecstatic about this generous gift, but if someone rich
like  Willie got two hundred dollars for his birthday he'd be pissed that's
all he  got. Everything's relative.

There lots of chatter inside with some laughing so obviously the  moms have
finally completed their long preparation for going out, and they've  joined
the guys in the kitchen. The four of them come out on the deck with  drinks
as I'm putting the billfold in my back pocket. The Moms want to see it
though so I show it to them and there's the usual positive comment from both
moms about what a good looking billfold it is. And it is too, but it's what's
 inside the billfold that has most of my attention. I flash the two bills
and my  mom give's Rider a startled look. He and Bud shrug like, 'What's the
big  deal?' Well, to me it is a big deal and I'm happy the Moms finally fell
for guys  with a little scratch in their pockets; for their sakes too of
course. It's a  new experience for Chubby, me, and for the Moms being
acquainted with  financially successful men. When I think back a few years to when
that  con-artist prick, Jake, was my Mom's boyfriend, oh man! Rider by
comparison is a  knight in shining armor compared to that  sicko.

Both Bud and Rider are good conversationalist and usually have  something
funny or interesting to say, so it's easy talking with both these
unpretentious men. They seems to really enjoy life and aren't hesitant to show  their
love for our Moms. Identical twins often like the same things, and I guess
that goes for liking the same kind of people as well. Chubby's and my moms
are  like twins themselves. Not in appearance, but in every way else you can
think  of. And like the twins, the Moms are never at a loss for words, plus
Chubby's  always good for saying something outrageous so there's never a
lull in the  conversation and it's relaxing for me. I mostly let my brother do
the talking  for both of us during group conversations like this.

It's past eight o'clock by the time we head out for dinner. Chubby  and I
take our Jeep and the four older adults go in Rider's BMW. Eating out at  the
shore is cool. There's something special about the atmosphere among a group
 of people all of whom are on vacation. Tonight we're eating at the Bay
Shore  Restaurant on the bay. It's my favorite restaurant here. I really like
it  because of the food, the crowds, and there's usually a lot of laughter.

There's  also the smell of the Somers Point bay in the air so there's no
mistaking we're  at the shore.

Chubby and I order lobster. I should say, I order lobster and  Chubby said,
"Um, ya know what, I think I'll have the same thing my brother's  having."

He always says that at restaurants and we always exchange smirks when  he
does it. Rider orders Old Fashion cocktails for all of us. The over-worked
waitress glances at Chub and me as we're both confidently grinning back at
her.  She does a little shake of her head, apparently lacking the energy to
argue so  she doesn't bother to card us. Big deal! I'll be twenty-one tomorrow
anyway, and  Chubby's birthday's on Wednesday so she's not breaking much of
a law. The Moms  disapprove of course, but the guy's poo-poo this slight
bending of the  rules.

Ya know, turning twenty-one is both weird and cool at the same  time. The
cool parts: I'm now legal age for drinking alcoholic beverages and I  can now
rent a car at select car rental agencies. Of course I'd need to pay a
premium price for the rental until I'm age twenty-five. Seems awfully arbitrary,
 but it is what it is. I can't think of another so-called privilege the age
of  twenty-one gives me over say, age eighteen, never mind age twenty. The
weird  part is I'm now further away from being a teenager, and did I ever
enjoy being a  teenager! That's history though and now I'm coming to grips
with the fact that  every year there's less acceptable behavior for my
advancing age. It's like soon  nothing I did as a teenager will be acceptable
behavior for a 'young adult'.  Then in a couple of more years I'll be like a
stranger in the strange land; the  strange land of, gasp, adulthood. Youth is
wasted on the young, my  balls!
As I'm thinking thoughts of aging, Bud asks, "Why you frowning,  Dylan?
What's wrong?" I'm like, "I was frowning? I didn't know that. I've  nothing to
frown about." Chubby goes, "My bro was thinking about how he keeps  getting
older," and I do frown at that, saying indignantly, "I am not!  Twenty-one
isn't old!" Chubby smirks at me, knowing me too well, so I can't help
grinning back at him. Rider says, "I remember the night Bud and I turning
twenty-one and...." he goes on to tell a funny story of the two of them
over-drinking. The moms never have much to say about 'age'. Maybe  because they're the
oldest ones among us. Even so they're still only  thirty-eight. When Robby
and I get married we plan to use our sperm, with the  help of a willing
female, to make our Moms grandmothers. My Mom will be a forty  year old
grandmother.  Jesus! A  grandmother.

I stop thinking about getting older and listen to what everyone  else is
talking about, then I spot a cute young guy getting up from a table on  our
left. It reminds me of last year's birthday dinner when I got involved with
that erotic character, John from New York City. This year I merely glance at
the  cute guy without even a passing thought of following him into the
bathroom. Huh,  that's a touch of maturity right there. And another indication of
how my 'wild  oats sowing' is working too. Considering Robby's and my ever
deepening love  affair, and our recent frequent sexual activities, I don't
feel the strong  desire or need to pursue some random cute guy into a
bathroom. Or is it that he  isn't cute enough to pursue. Ha ha, I'm just joking
with myself about that last  thought.

The fact is I'm sexually content, and obviously Charlie had  something to
do with that earlier today although the casual sex we had wasn't  especially
special. Sure it was very nice, but I'm not chomping at the bit to  get into
it again with him again. He's a good kid and I like him, but compared  to
Robby, Charlie seems awfully young and inexperienced. He certainly looks
young for his age. The best birthday gift I could hope for is Robby popping in
at my birthday dinner, yelling, 'SURPRISE!" That'd be awesome. Everyone at
the  table is laughing and I have no idea why, but I force a chuckle anyway,
ha ha.  It's rude of me not to engage in the table conversation, so I stop
thinking  about myself and say to Rider and Bud, "Hey guys, are we having my
birthday  dinner here?" Wait, that was still all about me. It reminds me of
a joke where a  guy says to someone, 'I've talked enough about myself. Why
don't you talk about  me for a while.' Rider says, "Sure, we'll have your
birthday dinner here if  that's what you want. Consider tonight a practice
run." Chubby says, "Good idea.  Lets test their birthday cake, just to be
sure." They laugh assuming he's  kidding, but I know he's serious because he's
thinking it'll be a white cake  with white icing, and that's our favorite
cake. As usual, we're reading  each other's minds, and again we exchange smirks.

I stay with the conversation the rest of dinner, only glancing at  the cute
guy twice. After dessert the real adults are moving to the lounge where
there's a live band. They'll have a few cocktails and do a little dancing.

Chubby and I thank the guys for dinner, give the Moms pecks on the cheek
saying  goodbye, and then we leave with plans to walk the boardwalk and see what
happening there. During the drive we talk about what great guys Bud and
Rider  are. Then we park in our condo's driveway and walk the two blocks to the
 boardwalk. Even on Sunday nights there are many people on the boardwalk,
so it's  not real surprising we don't run into Jesse, Ellie, or Charlie
tonight. Chubby  does bump into a guy he went to high school with. A guy name
Bill Black, who  apparently got into a few interesting escapades with Chubby
during eleventh  grade that they describe what they did and laugh about it.

Bill's a pretty good  guy and he hangs-out with us for half an hour or so
reminiscing with Chubby and  including me in the conversation by making eye
contact as the guys tell their  exaggerated tales of high school mischief.

When Bill meets up with his girlfriend and her friend, they drift  away
just as Ronny Tarleckie is punching my arm, asking, "You're friends with
Jessica Barns, right?" I go, "Yeah, sort of, why?" He smugly says, "Heh heh, for
one thing Jesse's hot for my bod, but that's not why I'm asking. Have you
seen  her brother tonight, my little faggot friend, Charlie?" Before I can
say  anything, Chubby turns around with a smile on his face, a smile that I
recognize  as a dangerous one. He says to Ronny, "I don't care for your choice
of words,  dipshit." Ronny raises his eyebrows, looks at me, then back at
Chubby, asking,  "Who the fuck are you?" He doesn't know him because Chubby
was shooting the  water gun at the cheesy arcade game when Ronny was
introduced to me last night.  Chubby goes, "It doesn't matter who I am, you're
language is offensive."  Tarleckie says, "You don't care for the word, 'faggot',
is that it? You're gay I  assume." Chubby takes a step closer to Ronny,
"Doesn't matter if I'm gay or not,  it's a pejorative word. Do you have contempt
for Charlie?" Ronny takes a deep  breath, "No, not really, and you're
right, it's a crude reference, and  politically incorrect, and all that shit.

After saying that, what business is it  of yours?" Chubby chuckles an insincere
chuckle, saying, "I already told you,  it's offensive to me. Are you
incapable of remember things said to you thirty  seconds ago, or perhaps you
neglected to take your medication tonight." Ronny  goes, "No, nothing like that,
but this isn't worth fighting over. I'm sorry I  offended you. I'll be sure
and stop-in at the first sensitivity meeting I come  across. Okay?" Not a
bad come back.

Chubby mutters, "Yeah, you do that." I gotta admit that Ronny's  right
about one thing: it's not worth fighting over. I know Chubby's only reason  for
making an issue out of the word is because I'm gay. I say to Ronny, "Um,
anyway, no, I haven't seen Charlie tonight." Then to Chubby, "This is Ronny
Tarleckie. He's a neighbor of the Barns family back home in Delaware," and to
 Ronny, "This is my brother, Jeff Romero." They nod at each other, then
Ronny  says to me, "If you see Charlie, tell him I'm looking for him, okay?" To
Chubby  he says, "Good to meet ya," and he walks off. Chubby watches him
walk away, then  looks at me, grinning, "He rubbed me the wrong way. I also
didn't care for his  arrogant tone of voice when he spoke to you." I grin back
at him, "Looking for a  fight, are we?" Chubby squeezes my hand, "Heh heh,
I may have come on a little  bit too strong." We start walking and I tell
him, "Jessica told me Ronny's a  bully as well as an asshole. And Charlie
doesn't like him." Chubby goes, "Thank  God for that! I'd have felt like a
ginormice asshole if you told me Ronny was  this friendless sweet kid who just
happened to slip-up by using the word  'faggot'." I go, "That's what I should
have told you... ha ha. But nope, that's  not the case, he's an asshole. And
thanks for sticking up for me." Chubby  glances at me grinning, "Nobody
better say the word faggot around my brother, or  if they do they better have a
good dentist." I snort a laugh, put my arm across  Chubby's shoulders,
mumbling, "Tough bad-ass, that's my brother," and we saunter  down the boardwalk
going no place in particular.

We mutually decide we don't feel like going on any of the thrill  rides
tonight, so after walking the boards and doing some people watching, we  end up
walking on the beach sharing cigarettes at eleven-thirty under the stars,
and thereby breaking two rules of the beach at the same time. It's
reminiscing  time for Chubby and me too, and as far as I'm concerned there's no one
better to  do that with than him. We reminisce about some funny shit, but
mostly we talk  about the togetherness, the 'us against the world' times we
experienced growing  up together; the oneness of us. There's no way to describe
the depth of  commitment we've felt for each other in our preteen years,
and most of our teen  years too. Working at separate jobs the summer after our
junior year of high  school, the 'oneness' we had eventually morphed into
something different. For  the first time in our lives we weren't together
24/7 and we both ran into  troubling times, maybe because we were apart. Mostly
working as a team though,  we took care of the 'troubles' each of us found
ourselves in that summer. In  both cases it was an ugly affair getting even
with our tormentors, but we  reestablished in our own minds that you don't
fuck with either of us, not if you  know what's good for you. And once again
we enhanced our preteen self-proclaimed  title of greatest best friends the
world has ever seen. Only later could be add,  'brothers' to our
self-appointed 'title' as world champion best friends and  brothers. We laugh about it
in a self-deprecating way at times, but who better  to claim the title than
us?
We're in our beds by half past twelve, and asleep shortly  thereafter.

Tonight I have that recurring dream about Chubby and me stranded on  a desert
island, somehow with all the amenities anyone could want. Someone else  is on
the island with us although I can quite see whose face it is. Waking up to
a bright sunshiny Monday morning I think about the dream, realizing again
it's a  slightly altered childhood fantasy of mine. As a child all I wanted in
life was  for Chubby and me to be together forever, just the two of us.

That was the  ultimate happiness in my mind... a utopia only a clueless child
could fantasize  about. Now as a young adult, struggling to act like one, I
still want Chubby in  my life always, but realize it can't be exclusively
Chubby and me, hence the  mysterious third person with us on my dream island.

By now it's enough to know  that he and I are an accumulation of experiences
lived together at every age  we've lived so far, and that's a lot of Chubby
and me. He's a part of me even  when we're apart.

>From my bed I'm again looking over at my brother in his twin bed  across
from mine and it gives me chills knowing how much we mean to each other.  The
palpable connection we have is almost other worldly and yet most of time we
just go about life without thinking about it. Oh sure, we're probably more
affectionate brothers than most, but we try refraining from getting maudlin
 discussing what we mean to each other. We no longer need to even think
about it  because the specialness is simply there, and we both know it. A
specialness that  can't be articulated, so we've given up trying  to.

Getting out of bed I pick up my pillow and whack Chubby over the  head with
it, saying, "Get up, bro! I'm gonna teach you how to golf on my  friggin'
birthday." He rolls over and gives me his smile, the one he only uses  for
me, and says, "Happy friggin' birthday, Dylan." I go, "Thank you little
brother," and he says, "Golf, you say? Yeah, lets hit some golf balls." We
recently decided to skip giving each other birthday presents. As a family we've
never gone overboard with birthdays and holidays. We don't ignore them, but
lack  of spendable income over the years necessitated modest gift giving,
and not  being especially religious we're rarely in church, although we
acknowledge  Christmas with a tree and exchange a couple of gifts. And the moms
still make-up  Easter baskets with candy for Chub and me. Then we celebrate
with traditional  dinners for both holidays, but that's about it. Robby's
family, on the other  hand, is the complete opposite. They go way overboard with
every holiday,  birthday, anniversary and anything else they can think
of... and that's fine  too, for them.

It's only eight o'clock in the morning but we're up because  sleeping-in at
the shore is dumb. There's too many fun things to do. After our  basic
bathroom necessities we have breakfast on the boardwalk enjoying the  sights,
sounds, and smells. There's the smell of the ocean too, including the  ever
present squawking of hungry seagulls floating in the air. Wildwood is the
only place in the world where we have a Taylor Pork Roll sandwich for
breakfast.  From the grille the round slices of pork roll are served on a hamburger
bum with  a dab of ketchup. Chubby and I share a bottle of orange juice with
the pork roll  sandwiches and when finished we buy take-out cups of coffee
to drink sitting on  a bench at the beach side of the boardwalk looking at
the endlessly rolling  sea.

This morning we're quiet as we drink our coffees and share a  cigarette.

Even this early there are already a few people on the beach. We can  just
barely hear snatches of their conversations and an occasional laugh riding  in
on the breeze from the ocean. Done our coffees we dump the cups in a  trash
barrel, get up and stretch, then Chubby grins, saying, "I have a sneaking
suspicion I'm going to be a natural at golf. Lets go see." I shrug, then smile
 to myself thinking about Charlie, the king of shrugging. While walking
back to  get our car at the house Chubby checks his iPhone for the closest
driving range  and discovers it's inland at Wildwood Crest. The moms moved the
Volvo yesterday  to let the people on the first floor get their car out, and
now our Jeep is  parked last in line so we can just drive away. As we do
that, I say, "Wish we  had a convertible," and we talk about saving money for
one. While we talk  about that, I can't help thinking about Willie again.

He's offered to give me  money any number of times, not that I'll ever accept
it of course, but how  different our circumstances are. He was born rich and
I wasn't, but which of us  has had a happier life? Willie gets a new car
every year and if his father's  pissed-off at Willie and won't buy it for him
one year, then his grandfather  gives him the car to spite his father. That's
a strange family alright. Still,  I'd love to see Willie again. I miss him.

At the driving range we both buy a bucket of golf balls and chose a
'driver' from the heavily used ones they offer for rent. We walk down the  driving
range until we find two spots together that aren't too close to other  guys
driving balls. Chubby holds up his golf club, mumbling, "Can you believe we
 had to leave our driver's license as collateral for this piece of shit
golf  club?" I shrug thinking about the set of golf clubs Mrs. Wilcox gave me
in  Georgia. Ryan texted that he'll mail them to me via UPS, but he hasn't
done it  yet. From his recent texts I get the feeling things haven't blossomed
in the  romance department between him and Mike. Surprising because they
spent a lot of  time together the last few weeks I was there. It's funny how
thinking back on my  time in Georgia, it all seems shinier and better than it
sometimes was while I  was living it. The side sex with Ryan was pretty
special and so were those  fucking dreamy submissive trances I'd drift into.

Can't help but wonder if  all that is over between Ryan and me now. It's
almost impossible to replicate  something like that. Or maybe it's just that in
hindsight the mind makes it seem  better than it was in the first place, and
that's why it can't be  replicated
I spend time imparting my golfing knowledge to Chubby, telling him
everything I can remember from what I learned from the golf pro at the Wilcox's
private Country Club. Then Chubby tries using the grip and swing pattern I was
 taught, but the results are not good. Hoping it'll help I demonstrate by
driving  a half dozen balls that all land past the 210 yard marker and then
bounce and  roll even further. "Okay, Chub, you try doing it like that." He
tries again  without much luck, saying, "It feels uncomfortable swinging the
club this way.  It's fucked-up, bro!" I take a deep breath, mumbling, "Okay,
if that blows, try  using whatever grip and swing you feel comfortable
with." He's grinning, and  mumbling, "Yeah, hopefully you haven't fucked-up my
natural swing too much by  trying to make me do it your way." I tee a ball up
for him, mumbling, "You  didn't have much of a swing to fuck-up, but give
it a go." "Whack!" he smacks  the shit out of the ball while doing everything
wrong. I go, "Awesome! Just the  way I taught you." He laughs, then hits a
dozen good drives in a row while  bending his left arm and using a baseball
grip on the club... both wrong for a  correct golf swing. Chubby stops and
says, "Just imagine how awesome I'd be with  a good driver instead of this
piece of shit." I pat his back, saying, "You're  doing good for a twenty year
old."

We whack balls out there taking turns in sort of a contest, and  work up a
sweat doing it. By the time we're done smacking the last golf balls in  our
baskets it's after ten o'clock and we're thinking it's beach time. Chubby
drives us back to the condo while bragging about his unorthodox swing and how
it  might change the face of golf when he's on the PGA tour. The truth is,
I  couldn't swing the way he does, most guys couldn't, but it works for
Chubby. I  really want to follow through learning golf because it's fun now, and
a sporting  activity we can do into old age. I've gotta get Robby involved
too. During the  ride back I read a birthday greeting on my iPhone from
Robby, one he sent early  this morning. It makes my eyes sting. He's so sweet
and loving! I text back how  much his birthday wishes meant to me. Nothing
back from him of course because  he's working his ass off on the job right now
while Chubby and I are having fun.  Gee, Robby is a real hard worker, which
I would think is a damn good trait for  the head of a household to have.

Back at the condo, changing into swimsuits, we see a note from the  moms
saying they're with Bud, and Rider having breakfast and they'll see us on  the
beach at 'our' spot. Ha ha, our spot. There are two birthday cards for me;
one from mom and one from Tris. Both cards are humorous and after chuckling
at  the cards I turn my attention to a wrapped present that's from both of
them. I  rip off the wrapping paper and find a very cool backpack for
college. Gee, I  guess they noticed I've been using the same backpack since
freshman year of high  school. Inside the backpack is a Samsung tablet. Together
the moms must have  spent over $200, which kinda contradicts what I thought
about our modest gift  giving. Chubby goes, "I hope I get that too," and I
say, "I might as well open  the birthday present you got for me too." He looks
startled for a second,  sputtering, "Bro, we said we weren't..." then he
chuckles, pointing at me, "Ya got  me for a second there." I say, "You're too
easy. I think I'm going to mess  around with this tablet for a while." Chubby
says, "Don't blame you bro, see you  down on the beach a little later."

The condo's WIFI carries out on the deck so I take the tablet out  there
and no sooner do I sit down, I hear, "Wha'cha got there, Dylan?" Charlie's  on
his deck, so I wave and hold up the tablet, yelling, "A birthday present."

He  asks, "Can I come over?" I go, "If you've got a birthday present for me,
sure."  Then I wave him on, and check out the apps preprogrammed in
Samsung's  tablets. Charlie's over in a flash. He gives the tablet a cursory look,
then  says, "I was down on the beach with Ronny. I can't lose that kid and
he's always  wrestling with me, getting me in headlocks and shit like that.

He's a strong  bastard." I ask, "What'd you tell him you were leaving the
beach for?" He  shrugs, "To take a crap. Something I hoped he wouldn't want to
come with me. I  didn't need to take a crap; I just wanted to get away from
him for a while. He  keeps calling me a faggot, but he won't leave me
alone." I go, "Uh huh,"  thinking I'll need to code in my debit card number into
this thing if I want to  download from Spottify. I'm sitting and Charlie's
standing right next to me  bumping against my shoulder. Finally I look up,
"What?" and he says, "How about  fucking my ass like you did yesterday?" I
mumble, "Don't beat around the bush,  Charlie, learn to come right out and say
what's on your  mind."

Then, taking a deep breath, a tiny bit exasperated, I go, "Okay,  but it's
your turn to top," and he's like, "Ah, c'mon, one more time with you  doing
it and then we'll switch." I really don't feel like it, but who knows when
we'll get an opportunity this good again, so I stand up, "Let's go in my
bedroom." He smiles, mumbling, "Hot shit," then he asks, "Can I do your
toenails  again?" I give him a blank stare, muttering, "What do you think I'm
going to say  to that?" He goes, "Okay, forget it," and as we go inside, he
asks, "What am I  going to do when you leave?" I shrug, "I don't know. How about
the kid you  fucked that one time. Call him up." He shrugs, whining, "He's
a tubby, and not  sexy at all." In my bedroom I lock the door, then pull
Charlie's swimsuit down  and see he's shaved his pubic hairs. Before I can say
anything, he goes, "I told  ya I was gonna do it." I pick up his seven inch
penis and stroke it a few times,  muttering, "Yeah, you did." He pushes my
hand away, pulls my trunks down, then  drops to his knees and sucks my cock
into his mouth. I mumble, "You're certainly  not shy, especially for a guy
who's had sex only once before we did it  together." Taking my saliva dripping
cock from his mouth, he looks up, "You're  forgetting Geoff. Him and I
fucked each other with dildos about fifty times and  then we'd blow each other."

I shrug and he snorts a laugh, saying, "Stop that,"  then he asks, "You
gonna smack my ass like last time?" I shrug and he does his  snorting laugh
again, and goes, "Stop mocking my shrugging habit." He puts my  dick back in
his mouth and does some nice cock sucking on  it.

It feels good having some cute guy suck on my dick. I run my  fingers
through his pretty hair, telling him, "You've got pretty hair, Charlie."  He
takes my now firm cock from his mouth again, holds it in his fist, and stands
up, saying, "Yeah, I know, but my mom wants me to get it cut shorter. Would
you  do it for me?" I mumble, "Yeah, but not now." He strokes my cock five or
six  times, then asks, "How do you want to fuck me?" I tell him, "Turn
around," and  when he does I get my left arm around the front of his throat
pulling his back  against my chest like last time. I like the temporary sense of
being dominant.  It's a cool change from my normal approach to sex. As I
guide the head of my  cock to his asshole, Charlie goes, "Do the spanking
first." Keeping my arm  around his throat, I step back so I can do a full swing
with my right arm and  it's, "SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK," with Charlie
going, "OW! OW! OW! OW!" moving  his ass further forward with each smack. I
spanked him on the same butt cheek  and it's rosy pink now. With the next,
"SMACK!" his hand comes back to protect  his butt cheek and he goes, "That's
enough, that's enough, okay?" Grinning I  give him another loud, "SMACK!"

mumbling, "That wasn't much of a spanking, but  okay, I'll stop."

His hand's rubbing his smacked ass as he's sniffling a little,  saying,
"That was a good spanking, but I see online guys getting whipped, if you  can
believe that." I mutter, "I believe it," and get back to lining my cock up
at his asshole. A hump of my hips and Charlie goes, "Oh!" then, "That feels
good." His anus is tight, so I ask, "Doesn't it hurt at all being stretched
like  this?" Charlie shrugs and says, "Yeah, but that's part of what makes
it feel  good. Also those dildos were bigger than your boner, so ya know."

Whatever, it  feels good to me too, really good as I force my boner up his
ass. It must hurt  him more than he's willing to admit because he's arching his
back and  trying to pull his ass forward. Wrapping my right arm around his
waist I pull  him back against my stomach. One final hump and I'm tight
against his butt  cheeks. He lets out a noisy exhale, grunting, "That hurt a
little, but it's  starting to feel real good already."

I wait another thirty seconds, and while I'm waiting I drop my hand  down
to his cock. It's very hard already, up against his belly, but I stroke it  a
few times anyway. He moans as precum drools over my fingers. Charlie is
obviously easily aroused and he likes acting submissive. He'll eventually be
some lucky guy's submissive sexy boyfriend. Stroking his cock a few more
times  has Charlie doing deep breathy moans with his shoulders shuddering
against me.  We're the same height so my face is at the back of his head against
his pretty  silky, nice-smelling hair. Hair that I'm apparently going to get
to cut again.  How very fortunate that Charlie's vacationing right across
the alley from us,  and eager for me to fuck him. Moving my head to the side
I start fucking his ass  fast with the sounds of males fucking filling the
bedroom. "Slap, slap, slap,  slap," and Charlie moaning while struggling in
my grasp. Sex with Charlie is  sexier than it was with Timmy, but it's still
mostly me just getting my rocks  off.

Charlie gets into a mantra, steadily moaning, "Ahh," with every  thrust up
his ass. Of course this feels really awesome on my hard cock, but  Charlie
isn't sexually arousing to me like some guys are, and consequently I  don't
feel an orgasm building noticeably like I would if say, Robby or Ryan were
plowing my ass. Five minutes of sexual pleasure for sure, but from the five
minute mark on I really start feeling it and begin appreciating Charlie's
hot  body and scent. It soon seems like more than just casually getting my
rocks off,  especially now that Charlie's squirming against me and sensations
all around my  groin begin pulsating with sexual pleasure.  The tightness of
his rectum  that's surrounding every part of my moving boner, helped along
by the precum my  nuts are now putting out, makes for smooth penetrations
that have me moaning  quietly myself now. Charlie's moans of desire are sexy
too and now my climax  begins roaring up and I bite my lip to keep my moans at
a quiet level, but oh my  god this feels good! Like last time, my arm is
around the front of his throat  pulling him back so far he's up on his toes,
my back arching as I'm slamming my  cock up his ass, "Slap, slap, slap, slap,
slap." Charlie's body gets stiff as he  goes, "Ooooh, ummm," bucking his
hips and shooting a long steam of cum that goes  up and over like a rainbow
before splattering on the floor, then another  struggle from Charlie as he's
humping almost out of my grasp shooting off again,  then two little spurts
and he gasps, breathing deeply and becomes limp in my  arms.

Pushing behind his head he obligingly bends over and grabs his  knees. I
grab his hips slamming my cock up his ass, desperate to climax.  'Topping'
creates different sensations than being on the bottom and now that my  cock's
taking over my brain I have only one objective... climax. Consideration for
Charlie is way back in my mind. I'm thinking only of my throbbing fat boner
and  his tight cute ass. I'm gasping for breath expending a lot of energy
wildly  slamming my boner back and forth in his rectum with my balls beginning
to ache,  overloaded with jism that needs to find a place to land. Then it's
on me like  thunder and lightning and I do an embarrassing whine before my
squeal as a  mountain of pleasure sensations bombard my head with a rush of
cum firing from  my nuts, up my hard cock into Charlie's bowels. Oh what
relief as my head goes  back and my body shakes while I hump against his
buttocks shooting more cum up  his ass. A delirious feeling floods over my body as
I do calm thrusts in his  slippery sloppy rectum. Oh my God, I didn't expect
a climax that outstanding.  "Ooooh," I quietly moan. That felt so good a
rush of affection for Charlie  slides over me. A couple of final thrusts and I
pull my cock out, then watch my  creamy cum drooling out of his ass.

Charlie straightens up and smiles, "That was better than the other  times,
Dylan. Don't you think?" I nod my head, still taking deep breaths not  only
because of the rush from my orgasm, but because it's slightly exhausting
doing ninety percent of work for that sex act. Makes me further admire and
appreciate my boyfriend and some of my more dominant sex partners. There's no
real show of affection now that the buddy-sex is over, and we didn't even
do foreplay. It's all about the build-up and then the climax for both of
us. The climax Charlie had was sexually arousing to me, and so was the
inherent  dominance associated with topping. I liked it and should do more of it,
but it  still can't compare to having a hard cock fucking my ass. We clean up
as best we  can, first cleaning Charlie's cum off the floor; then, in my
bathroom, we clean  cum off ourselves. Heading down to the beach we're telling
each other how 'hot'  that sex was.

Chubby carried two chairs to the beach fifteen minutes ago so  Charlie and
I are carrying the other two chairs and the beach umbrella. He keeps
looking back at me as we walk and finally I ask, "What?" and he goes, "Nothing.

You're awesome though." I go, "Everyone tells me that," and he says, "No they
 don't." At the beach I spot the rest of the Barns family, plus Ronny
Tarleckie  who's obviously been waiting for Charlie to return. Chubby gives me a
big smile,  probably figuring out what Charlie and I were up to. Ronny nod
at us, asking,  "Where ya been, Charlie?" then, "Oh, and happy birthday,
Dylan." I say, "Thanks.  Um, Charlie was helping me with these chairs." We
exchange 'hellos' with Mr. and  Mrs. Barns, then Jesse says, "Happy Birthday,
Dylan," and then everybody mumbles  it. Awkward couple of seconds.

Mrs. Barns asks, "Which birthday is it, Dylan?" and I go, "The big
twenty-one." She looks surprised and Mr. Barns mumbles, "You're gonna need a
hellava lot of ID's in bars, son." I shrug and look at Charlie, who grins and
shrugs back. He runs the fingers of both his hands up the long hair from the
back of his head, announcing to no one in particular, "Dylan's gonna give me
the  shorter haircut my dear mother's been nagging me to get." I shrug
again,  mumbling, "Whatever you say, Charlie," and his mother says, "Not as
short as  Dylan's, Charles, but more like a boy's haircut." Charlie mimics,
"More like a  boy's haircut," then he says, "I'm twenty years old, mom, and not
cute little  Charlie-boy anymore." His dad says, "You still have a cute
little Charlie-boy  type haircut, son," and Charlie mumbles, "Touché,  Dad."

We set up the chairs, then Ellie and Chubby lean in together  whispering
and giggling. I'm sitting and glancing occasionally at Charlie who  sharing a
beach blanket with Ronny. Ronny has very hairy and substantial looking
legs, and a hairy chest. When Ronny's not looking Charlie rolls his eyes at me
to show he's not happy Ronny's here. I say, "Wanna go in for a swim?" and
both  Charlie and Ronny says, "Yeah." As they get up, Jesse says, "I just got
out  of the water, Dylan, like ten minutes ago. Ya better watch out for the
jelly  fish." Oh balls! I hate jelly fish so I'm making a face, like, 'Ewww'
and  Charlie pats my shoulder, "My sister's breaking you 'nads, dude.

There's no  jelly fish." Jesse and I exchange smirks and as I walk by her, she
holds up her  hand and I smack it with mine. For a girl she's fun and very
cool.

Charlie runs into the ocean the way Chubby and I do it, but Ronny  walks in
one step at a time suffering shock after shock at the temperature  change
his body's sensing. When Charlie and I are in water above our waist we  dive
in and come up ten seconds later wiping water from our faces. Charlie
watches Ronny wading slowly towards us, quietly saying, "Asshole Tarleckie was
on my deck first thing this morning. I've been stuck with him all day."

Charlie  anticipates I'll shrug at that, and we shrug together, chuckling. I go,
"Fuck,  make the best of it, Charlie. Maybe today's the day he won't be an
asshole." He  mutters, "That'll be a first," as Ronny's just now reaches us.

He still hasn't  dived under the water yet. He grumbles, "Fucking water's
cold for this time of  year." I splash water up on his hairy chest, saying,
"It's a nice temperature if  you dive under. Your body will get acclimated to
the temperature change all at  once." Instead of diving he slowly sinks into
the water until just his head's  sticking out. I say, "You're almost
there," and put my hand on his too big head  pushing it under water. He comes up
sputtering, "You prick! You're begging to  get your ass kicked." I shrug,
muttering, "Maybe, but not by you, Ronny, no  fucking way." He has nothing to
say to that.

We  mostly body surf, but not for long because the water's fairly calm
making for  unimpressive waves this morning. As we're walking up the beach to
our chairs I  see the moms and their fiancés just now walking onto the beach.

Chubby's  spreading sun screen on Ellie which reminds me to get my sun
screen bottle out  of the beach bag and do the same for Charlie. Ronny mutters,
"Sun screen's for  pussies," which is what Charlie said yesterday. When I've
covered Charlie with  sunscreen, he does the same for me. By now everyone's
settled in their chairs  and the older adults get very chatty with  one
another, paying little attention to us younger adults. When I was spreading  sun
screen on Charlie's legs, up near his groin, I watched the lap of his
swimsuit begin forming a tent until he grumpily says, "I can do my legs, Dylan!"

 Giving him the tube of sun screen I chuckle while watching three teenage
boys  walk by. They're all working hard at looking cool, trying for blasé
when they're  actually excited to be at the shore. One of them is kinda cute
with his light  red hair recently cut and carefully spiked on top. I tap Ch
arlie's shoulder,  asking, "What do you think of the redhead's hairdo?" Charlie
looks over,  mumbling, "Too short."

It's a normal beach day with some dozing off, body surfing, and  walks on
the beach gawking at our fellow human beings, astonished at the variety  they
come in. Ronny's like gum on Charlie's foot going everywhere he goes.

There's no mention of the 'faggot' word from good ol' Ronny this morning and I'm
 beginning to wonder about his sexual orientation. It's the way he looks at
 Charlie and touches him whenever he can. Charlie's always pushing Ronny's
hands  away from him, muttering, "No touching."

Everyone's on their own for lunch today so around one o'clock  Charlie,
Ronny, and I hit the boardwalk for Mac's pizza. We eat inside because  the
sun's blindingly hot today and it's almost air conditioned inside. I say
'almost' because the entire front of the restaurant is open. Eating a slice of
pizza, Ronny says, "Dylan, I'm curious, um, do fag.., um, gay guys like you
and  Charlie automatically, Ahh, hook-up." Charlie asks, "Whaddaya mean?" and
Ronny  goes, "Have sex simply because you're both gay. A straight guy and
girl don't  automatically have sex just because they're both straight, ya know
what I mean?"  I say, "Gay guys, or gay girls for that matter, don't
automatically have sex  either." He finishes a slice of pizza and licks his
fingers. I hate that! Ronny  says, "Gay sex, what's it feel like? I mean, like
what's it feel like having  another guy's dick up your ass?" Charlie says,
"It's different than having your  dick in a girl. I think there are a lot of
sensitive nerve endings in your  rectum." This conversation was started by
Ronny, adding to my suspicious about  him. He's apparently interested in
Charlie, sexually I mean, and he's sneaking  up on the idea of maybe getting
Charlie to suggest he and Ronny try a gay sex  act together.

Charlie changes the subject though, and talks about how his  Philadelphia
Phillies suck as bad as my Boston Red Sox. Ronny's not contributing  to the
sports talk though and when he gets a chance he gets back on the topic of
sex, asking Charlie, "How would you know what it feels like to fuck a girl?"

Charlie says, "I read about it. How about you, Tarleckie, you ever get
laid?" To  Ronny's credit he admits, "No, I'm a virgin I'm sorry to say," then
chuckling  like he's joking, he says, "Hey; maybe I could fuck you and break
my cherry."  Charlie snorts out a laugh, "My advice is don't hold your breath
waiting for  that to happen." Ronny says, "How 'bout you, Dylan? Want to
feel my big dick up  your bung hole?" I mutter, "Ditto what Charlie said." I'm
actually starting to  feel sorry for Ronny. He's not attractive so he's had
no luck with the girls,  and in fact I think he'd rather do it with a guy
anyway, but he's having no luck  with guys either. It's probably not easy
being him.

Ronny's been going out of his way to hang with Charlie, but at the  same
time he acts homophobic with the 'faggot' references and he likes bullying
Charlie by getting him in a headlock and messing-up his hair. Other times
he'll  put his arm across Charlie's shoulders saying something like, 'Does this
get  you turned-on, Charlie?' And now this blatant attempt to get Charlie
talking  about sex. Homophobes are sometimes hidden homosexuals who repress
their desires  as long as they can. Must take up a lot of energy keeping those
impulses under  control. Finally Ronny comes right out and says, "I might
even let you put your  dick up my butt, Charlie, if you ask me nicely."

Charlie laughs, "Don't hold  your breath waiting for that to happen either." That
poor bastard, Ronny,  couldn't be more conspicuous about it now that he's
finally found the guts to  confront his tendencies. The problem is, like I
said, he's no more attractive to  guys than he is to girls. Yeah, I'm
definitely feeling bad for the guy  now.

As we all take a last slice of pizza, Ronny says, "Oh, you're too  good for
me, huh Charlie? I'll bet you already stuck your dick up Dylan's butt.

Pretty boy Dylan, right?" Charlie swallows, then goes, "No, that's not right,
and why won't you get off this subject?" Ronny, defensive now, goes, "You're
the  homo, Charlie, not me. I was just trying to fit in by talking about a
topic you  two are interested in. And you shouldn't hold your breath either.

Not if you're  waiting for me to let you stick your pencil dick up my ass."

Charlie looks at  me, asking, "Can you believe this shit?" I shrug and he
can't help snorting out  a laugh, mumbling, "Stop mocking my fucking habit. I
like to shrug." Ronny goes,  "Are you two making fun of me? Fucking
queers!" I go, "Get a fuckin' clue,  Ronny! Charlie and I have a thing about
shrugging, if you must know. It hasn't a  damn thing to do with you, and I don't
care for your slurs about our sexuality  any more than my brother does."

We silently finish draining our cups of Coke and head back to the  beach
with Ronny walking next to Charlie saying, "Okay, you win, Charlie. I'd
really like to see what it's like." Charlie, who's been taunted by Ronny for
years, finally has the upper hand. He plays dumb, "You'd like to see how what's
 like?" Ronny glances at me, then whispers to Charlie, "Having a dick up my
ass."  Charlie goes, "whose dick?" He's intentionally being obtuse; making
Ronny spells  it out exactly, "I'm asking you to fuck me, Charlie. Jesus,
how much plainer can  I make it! Ya know, strictly to satisfy my curiosity.

I'm a curious guy." I take  a seat in my beach chair watching Charlie let
Ronny flounder around basically  nagging Charlie to fuck him. Once Ronny let go
of his inhibitions I guess he  figured he'd go all in, even to the point of
humiliating himself. It doesn't  look like Charlie feels bad for Ronny like
I kinda do. Probably because Ronny's  been bullying him for years.

Later when we're in the water swimming around, Charlie asks me,  "Should I
fuck him? What do you think, Dylan?" I say, "I wouldn't, but then I  don't
have to put up with him as a neighbor. You'd shut him up once and for all
with his 'faggot' taunting if you did screw his ass though." Charlie asks,
"Would you be there with me if I was to do him?" Ronny swims up, asking, "You
guys talking about me behind my back?" I go, "A little paranoid are you,
Ronny?"  He says, "Just for the record, I was pulling your chain about you
corn-holing  me, Charlie. I assume you know that." Charlie goes, "Yeah sure,
you're kidding.  Okay, I'll give your ass a hard fucking, just this once," and
Ronny says,  "Really? Um, it might be interesting at that. Let me think
about it." Charlie  and I shrug at the same time shaking our heads; it's like
Charlie said earlier,  'Can you believe this shit?'
More discussion leads to this: Charlie's family, plus Ellie, are  going to
a sushi restaurant for dinner tonight. Charlie can't even imagine  eating
raw fish, so he's not going. Ronny's gonna buy the condoms and Charlie's
going to fuck is ass, but only if I'm there for morale support. We're meeting at
 his condo around seven o'clock. The worm has turned. A surprising reversal
of  fortune right before my eyes. I don't think Charlie can believe it
either, but  we can't talk about it because Ronny's never more than a foot away
from Charlie.  I give Ronny credit for having the balls to finally express
what he's probably  fantasized about as long as he's known that Charlie was
gay. Now we'll see if he  goes through with it.



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



donnymumford@outlook.com



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



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



Donny  Mumford



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

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