Date: Sun, 17 Apr 2016 18:19:23 -0400
From: MGTBILL@aol.com
Subject: DYLAN'S  VACATION BACK HOME  Chapter  21

DYLAN'S   VACATION BACK HOME



Chapter  21



by  Donny Mumford



Back from the beach we're all taking  showers and getting ready to go out
to dinner. Chubby and I do that much quicker  than our Moms, so we're on the
deck drinking ice cold beers while they're still  at it. I tell Chubby the
bizarre situation Charlie and Ronny find themselves in.  Chubby's a good
listener and when I've finished, he goes, "Jesus, that's weird.  Ronny's that
guy on the boardwalk, the one I had a discussion about him saying,  'faggot',
right?" I nod, "That's him, but he wasn't aggressive or especially  rude
today." Chubby says, "This is off topic a little bit, but I like that we  both
use euphemisms when the topic is sex, gay or straight. It allows us to
share experiences without making either of us uncomfortable." I'm like, "Huh, I
never thought about it like that before, but you're right. Using vulgar
language  makes sex seem lewd and, um, banal. " "Chubby lights a cigarette
then, with  smoke exhaling from his mouth and nose, he asks, "So, they want you
to referee,  so to speak?" I shrug, "I'm not sure why they want me there."
Neither of us can  figure it out.

The Moms make an appearance at the  same time Rider and Bud are walking up
the steps to the deck.  It's quarter of seven by the time we're  all settled
on the deck with beers or cocktails. Bud and Rider are casually  teasing
our Moms about their smoking habit. It's light banter with all of us  relaxed
and feeling good. Latest I heard, we're not leaving for the restaurant
until sometime after eight o'clock. By going  later we're hoping to avoid the
rush of families with children who need to dine  earlier.

There's no getting around it,  witnessing Charlie and Ronny having sex will
be creepy. Yeah, but even though  he's a bit of a jackass, I still feel
sorry for Ronny. He's trying to find out  who he is and he's obviously not sure
how to go about it. Plus, I assume Charlie  needs me there for moral
support so what can I do but help them both out. A  little after seven Charlie
walks to the front of his deck and calls over, "Hey,  Dylan, would you help me
with something?" Yeah, sure. I give him a wave as  Chubby's giving me a
'look', halfway grinning, aware what Charlie needs help  with. I excuse myself
and walk over to join Charlie on his deck. In a whisper,  he says, "Tarleckie
isn't sure he wants to do this now." I go, "Good! That's the  best of both
worlds. He asked you to fuck him so whether you do or not won't  change the
fact that he asked." Charlie goes, "Yeah, I was thinking the same  thing."

I follow Charlie inside his condo, a  condo that looks exactly like ours.
In the bedroom Ronny's sitting on the edge  of Charlie's bed holding a condom
packet in his fingers. He looks up, "Dylan,  this is too weird, don't ya
think?" I go, "Absolutely. You guys don't need to do  this now. You two are
neighbors for fuck sake,;  you've got all the time in the world. Wait for the
right circumstance to develop  and it might happen more or less on it's
own." Ronny's frowning, "Like what  circumstance?" I shrug, "Um, like when
you're both drunk or high, something like  that." He looks at Charlie, "Whaddaya
think, Charlie?" He shrugs of course, then  mumbles, "Who knows, but Dylan's
definitely right that it would be better if  we're under the influence of
some kind of a banned substance." I snort out a  laugh, then act serious
saying, "It doesn't even need to be banned, it could be  a six pack of beer, um,
each." Ronny's pissed again, "You two are mocking me!" I  say, "No we're
not, Ronny, but this isn't supposed to be some serious  endeavor. It should be
spontaneous experimental buddy-sex. You know, when  both of you feel like
you want to do it."

Ronny's thinking, but only for two  seconds or so, then he stands up and
flips the condom packet to Charlie, saying,  "Okay, Dylan. You're older and
more experienced so I'll take your advice and  wait for a time when Charlie's
desperate enough to want to do it." Charlie says,  "And when I'm drunk
enough too." I do a couple of fake coughs to keep from  laughing out loud, then
my cellphone rings. I mutter, "Um, excuse me, guys." I  take my cellphone out
of my pocket and turn around, "Hello?" It's my mom asking  if I want to
invite Charlie to my birthday dinner. She knows his family is at a  sushi
restaurant because they talked about it on the beach today. I'm like,  "Gee, it's
nice of you to think of him, Mom." She says, "Well, it was actually  Bud's
idea, but I agree it's a nice thing to do." I'm like, "I'll ask him. See
you in a few minutes." Turning back around and spreading my arms, I go, "So,
we're all in agreement then, right?" Naturally Charlie shrugs. Ronny nods
his  head, mumbling, "Yeah, that makes the most sense," then to Charlie,
"Maybe the  Labor Day block party would be a good time for it. There's plenty of
booze  floating around then." Charlie mutters, "Yeah, and maybe we can smoke
two or  three joints with the booze." Another fake cough from me. Jesus,
these  two!

I pat Ronny on the back and sort of  steer him out of the bedroom, then
continuing out onto the deck with Charlie  following. As we walk I'm telling
Ronny, "Obviously, Ronny, this means ya gotta  stop with the 'faggot' stuff
or, well you know, it could turn back on you." He  frowns, looking at Charlie,
asking, "You're not saying anything to anyone about  this, are you
Charlie?" Charlie goes, "Of course not! Don't be stupid. Why would  I want anyone
to, um... it'll strictly be between you and me." He was going to  say, 'Why
would I want anyone knowing I  had sex with YOU?'  Ronny's nodding his head,
then  says, "Okay. Oh, and just so ya know, I  won't be on the beach the next
couple of days. We'll be in Atlantic City so my  Dad can gamble, and Mom
can visit with her sister's family. My aunt Ceil."  Hearing that Charlie gets
this bright expression on his face as I'm patting  Ronny's back again,
saying, "Well dude, we'll see you later this week then." He  says, "Thank, Dylan,
you're a good guy." I go, "Yeah, everybody tells me that,  Ronny," and
Charlie goes, "No they don't." I look back at him making a face as  I'm walking
Ronny down the outdoor steps.

The three of us stand awkwardly at  the bottom of the steps for a few
seconds, then Ronny says, "Well, I gotta get  going I guess." Charlie and I both
say, "See ya later," then I get pissed at  myself because we said that too
eagerly. Dammit!  Ronny walks off giving us  a little wave. I turn to
Charlie, asking, "Don't you feel a little bit bad for  him? He puts on his gruff
macho act while inside all he wants is for you to like  him." Charlie goes,
"Fuck him. Like the Bible says, you sow what you reap." I  go, "I think you
got that twisted around a little. It's kinda true though that  you can't
always escape the consequences of what you do and say. Most  things you do in
life come back to you one way or another." Charlie says, "He's  been mean to me
for years, and now  I'm supposed to forget all  that?" I go, "Apparently
you're not inclined to do that, but I think you should  accept the olive
branch and make life easier for yourself, especially  considering you're
neighbors and all." He chuckles, "Fuck a whole bunch of olive  leaves." I say,
"Olive branch," then he says, "All kidding aside, you're  probably right. I do
feel a little bad for him, especially now that's he's  acting slightly
normal." I'm like, "Now you're thinking forgiveness, which is a  good thing. Turn
the other cheek and all that stuff." Charlie shrugs, and I add,  "We're on a
roll with these good intentions so maybe we could read each other  passages
from the Bible to further this forgiveness trend." He snorts out his  laugh,
then looks serious, "You shouldn't make fun of the Bible, Dylan." I fake
indignation, "Listen, buster, earlier this summer I went to church every
Sunday,  and then Bible study every Wednesday night. Make fun of the Bible, my
ass."

He laughs, then asks, "Hey, can we  sneak in some sex now? I'm willing to
be the 'top'." I go, "Sorry my little  sex-fiend friend, but I'm going out
for my birthday dinner any minute now." He  asks, "Where to," and I tell him,
"Somers Point, at the Bay Shore restaurant,  and by the way, you're
invited." He goes, "Oh, I'm so sure I'm invited." I tell  him  about my mom's
cellphone call, and  he goes, "Really? I'd love to come. I was gonna have a peanut
butter and jelly  sandwich, but um, will I need to talk with anyone other
than you? I'm not good  at that." I go, "Of course you won't need to  talk to
anyone, you're way too shy for that kind of interaction. You and me will
whisper shit back and forth." He laughs, then says, "Okay then! I'll need to
shower first though, and what should I wear?" I tell him, "Whaddaya mean,
what  should you wear? You see what I'm wearing? Wear something like this,
dummy." He  sarcastically mumbles, "I've no hope of ever being as cool as you,
but I'll do  my best." I'm like, "Well, go do it then! I'm going back and
finish my warm  beer." He starts up the steps, stops and turns to look at me.

We've been mostly  talking tongue in cheek, but he looks serious now,
saying, "Thanks, Dylan." I  nod, "Sure. Just come over to the deck when you're
ready. No  hurry."

Walking across the alley to my  place, I'm thinking, "Those two guys were
in over their heads and needed a way  out. A way out of their predicament
where they both could save face, and they  thought I'd have the answer. That
makes me feel good." Back on the deck, Chubby  asks me, "Everything okay over
there?" I nod, "Yep, we came up with a solution  that worked for both of
them." Chubby asks, "Which was, what?" and I shrug  saying, "They took my
advice to put it off until another time. That's advice I  often give myself."

Chubby grins and gives my hand a squeeze, mumbling, "The old  'put off a
problem till later' solution, huh?" Chuckling, I nod and then at the  first
opportunity I break into the conversation to say thanks to Bud for  thinking of
Charlie. I add, "Charlie told me he was going to have a peanut  butter
sandwich for dinner." Bud says, "Oh jeez, good thing we invited him. Glad  to have
your new friend join us for your birthday." Huh, everyone knows I'm gay  of
course, and Charlie's parents have been talking with our moms for two days
now, so they probably know Charlie's gay too. It makes me  wonder what they
all must be thinking about Charlie and me. Yeah, but so what?  I'm over
thinking again, like I do with too many  things.

It's a beautiful night with low  humidity and a refreshing ocean breeze to
tame the eighty-five degree  temperature, which really isn't too bad with
the sun losing it's power at this  time of day. Chubby's talking quietly to
someone on his cellphone and I'm  feeling mellow sipping my beer listening to
Bud and Rider making the moms laugh.  It's nice being around all these
smiles. Very relaxing. Chubby finishes his  cellphone call and we talk about how
the work day might have gone for Robby  with the borrowed workers from other
crews. He had help though with Seth staying  to work with him. As we talk
I'm admiring how handsome Chubby's become, really  healthy looking too with
some sunburn on his nose. At work we wear hats  that protect the top part of
our faces from the sun. Then Chubby tells me, like  he read my mind, "You
get better looking every year, bro." Well I'll be damned,  Chubby and I are
always on the same wavelength. He adds, "And with your hair  growing out now,
my advice to you is don't walk by any modeling agencies. You  don't want to
get mixed up in that world." I'm shaking my head, muttering, "No  one wants
me modeling anything, and stop with the compliments or you'll force me  to
reciprocate and we'll soon be waltzing down maudlin lane together." He goes,
"Well big brother, that's good advice right there from  you. Um, I believe
it's your turn to get us beers though." Rider  asks the moms, "Shall we have
one  more cocktail before heading over to Somers Point?" Of course the
answer is,  "Sure," and we all get fresh drinks.

I guess Charlie is doing some extra  preening before coming over because
it's after eight o'clock before I see  him walking across the alley. He comes
hesitantly up the  steps, then  stops at the top one. We're all facing away
from the steps, but I know he's  there. Charlie quietly hisses to get my
attention. I look over and he  murmurs, "Hey, Dylan," nodding his head for me
to come over to him. Ha ha, I'd  feel a little awkward too if things were
reversed  and I was joining four adult members of his family who I hardly know.

I walk  over, saying, "Good, you're here, Charlie," and put my hand on the
back of his  neck to give him an encouraging squeeze. He steps up on the
deck and Chubby asks, "Can  I get you a beer, Charles." He goes, "Yes, thanks,
but only my mother calls me  Charles." Chubby says, "Your mother, and now
me. One beer coming up." The moms  and their fiancés say hi to Charlie, with
Tris adding, "Don't you look handsome  tonight, Charlie." He inches a little
closer to me, muttering, "Oh, um, thanks."  He's not even sure if Tris is my
mom or  Chubby's.

I pull one of the chairs from the  table over next to my captain chair and
sit on it indicating Charlie can sit in  the vacated captain chair. He sits
down, and the beer Chubby gives  him helps some. As Charlie is guzzling
beer, Chubby says to him, "I  understand you're a protege' on the harpsichord."

Charlie chokes on the beer, coughing and goes, "What's that?" Chubby  looks
startled, "Apparently I've been misinformed. What instrument do you  play?"

I grin to myself because Chubby always has some way to break the ice for
anyone who's kinda new to the group. Chubby formed sort of a bond calling
Charlie 'Charles', and then goes into some bizarre banter, like the
harpsichord nonsense to keep Charlie occupied and in the conversation. I  remember
times when I felt just like  Charlie. Lighting a cigarette and passing it to
Chubby, I ask Charlie  if he wants one. He shrugs, saying, "Um, I don't
smoke, but yeah I'll take one?"  That's one of the things cigarettes are good
for; they give you something to do.  I pass him a Marlboro, saying, "Sorry it's
not a joint," and he mumbles, "So am  I," then he grins shaking his head,
aware that he's acting dorky. Chubby is  entertaining Charlie and me with a
few factoids now.

I can think of many examples of  Chubby making a newcomer comfortable, but
the one that always comes to mind  first is when I invited my sociall
y-challenged, angry at the  world acquaintance, Cory Dunlevy, for dinner at the
college apartment.  Chubby brings the new guy into the group in some mildly
unexpected or outlandish  way. His knack for hitting just the right note works
every time. I first met  Cory working at Stop & Shop when he was the poster
child for homophobes,  hiding from his own gayness at the time. He had a
miserable home life back then  too, and on top of everything else he was
dealing with Cystic  Fibrosis. Chubby made a reluctant Cory his 'wing-man' that
night and before long  I could see Cory relaxing and eventually having a good
time. The last time I  talked with him everything was great at home, and he
has a boyfriend. I don't  see him often enough though.

Everyone's in an up-beat mood as we  leave the deck on our way to dinner. I
drive Charlie, Chubby, and me to the  restaurant in our Jeep; the others go
in the BMW. By now Charlie's feeling okay  enough to tell Chubby that he
can't imagine eating sushi, saying, "Raw fish  sounds disgusting." Chubby
goes, "Yeah well, that's a popular misconception  about sushi, Charlie. It's not
all raw fish. That would be something called  sashimi, not sushi. Sashimi
is always raw fish often served in slices with  dipping sauces. Sushi can
have raw fish in it too, but more often than not, in  the western world anyway,
sushi is served with fully cooked seafood and  sometimes as a vegetarian dis
h." Charlie goes, "I still don't like it."  Glancing over at Chubby, I
mutter, "Really?" meaning did he  have to drag out that bizarre information for
us to digest. He chuckles  knowing his factoids often baffle, and often are
not believed. Which of  course are the two main reasons he tells his
factoids in the first  place.

I drive us onto the parking lot  across the street from the Bay Shore
Restaurant. Their main parking lot is full  at this time of night. Rider pulls in
behind the Jeep a minute later. We  all cross the street together and  join
the group of people waiting for tables. Rider gives his name to the harried
 lady at the desk and we're told it'll be a twenty minute wait. Our  plan
to  come late, expecting less diners, backfires on us. Bud mutters, "That's
the one  big pain in the ass about eating out at the shore. They don't take
reservations." We find the bar area is crowded too, but there's nothing
bashful about Rider or Bud. Those guys can be a little pushy when it's called
for and because of that we get a table in back. It's  the last table
available with the previous occupants just called to dinner.  It's also the table
another group was walking towards ahead of us. Bud,  accidentally on purpose,
bumps into the man leading that group. The man's middle  aged and rough
looking with a tight buzz cut. Buzz cuts don't look all that good  on middle
aged, slightly balding men. This guy's wearing a wife-beater  t-shirt to show
off his muscles. While Bud's apologizing to the angry-looking  man Rider
hustled us to the table. We take our seats looking at the  litter left behind
by the previous occupants: empty highball glasses and  plates containing left
over celery and a smear of ranch dressing. Obviously they  were plates of
Buffalo Wings. The woman with the rough-looking guy is glaring at  us and I
make eye contact for a split second. Whoa, she a tough  looking broad with
tattoos up and down her arms, and there are three  younger versions of the man
and woman, who I'm  guessing are their kids, all of them with scowls on
their faces. None of  them are pleased they lost the race for the table, but
what can you do;  possession in nine/tenth of the law, or something like
that.

A pimply busboy clears the  table leaving behind a whiff of BO. Then the
waitress, when she finally  gets to us, turns out not to be as forgiving as
the waitress we had for dinner  last night. Chubby and I order draft beers,
and this waitress insists on seeing  some ID. I'm twenty-one but I stupidly
left my wallet in the car, and even  though my mom and Rider vouch for me the
waitress won't relent. "I gotta  protect my job, folks. I need to see a
picture ID." Chubby's annoyed, so to be a  smart-ass he asks for a Shirley
Temple, using a bad impression of a little  girl's voice. The hard-ass waitress
is not amused. She makes a  sniffing sound, then bitchily says, "Do I seem
like the kind of person who's  looking for comedy relief, honey?" Nobody knows
how to reply to that so we  settle for three Cokes. Our dinner table isn't
ready until forty-five minutes  and two rounds of drinks later, not twenty
minutes like we were told. On the  plus side we get a nice table in front of
floor-to-ceiling windows looking out  at the bay. Sweet view!

We have a waiter tonight; a  nice looking young lad with a prominent nose.

He has a  swarthy complexion and very dark hair combed straight back. I'd
guess  he's probably a few years older then me. 'Nathan' is printed on his
name tag. You don't run into a lot of guys named Nathan nowadays. You also
don't  run into a lot of guys as screamingly gay as Nathan. He's one or two
steps up  from swishy, although I don't know what that would be called. Nathan
is also  very nice and an extremely conscientious waiter. He doesn't take
notes while the  seven of us order drinks, appetizers, and our main course
selections. Later, he  serves our choices without making a single mistake,
putting exactly what we each  ordered in front of us. He doesn't need to ask,
"Who has the  salmon appetizer." He remembered it was Tris who  ordered the
salmon. Everything went like that through the entire meal. Pretty  impressive
memory.

Nathan has a wonderful smile too,  and he shows it often. I'm impressed
that someone so young could have such a  polished and professional manner. When
he was taking our beverage orders, I  asked for a very dry Beefeater
martini straight up, and Chubby said, "I'll have  the same." Nathan smiled his
great smile at us, and he smiles with  his eyes too, as he asks Tris, "May I
ask the age of these handsome  fellows?" Tris said, "Dylan," pointing at me,
"Is twenty-one today, and his  brother, Jeff, will be twenty-one on
Wednesday." Nathan grins and said, "Okay,  and  the  little brother there isn't
nearly twenty-one, right?" nodding at Charlie. Tris  goes, "Well yes, Charlie was
twenty a couple of days ago." Nathan says, "You're  an extremely youthful
and handsome family." There's no request for my ID.  He took Tris' word for
it, I assume. After a little bow of his head, Nathan  takes a step back and
goes on his way to place our drinks order. We all shake  our heads like,
'what was that all about?
Five minutes later here comes Nathan  balancing a round tray with seven
drinks on it. He places cocktails in front of  our Moms, then Rider, and Bud.

Then, very carefully because it's filled to the  very top, he sets my
straight-up martini in front of me, saying, "Happy  Birthday, Dylan." There's a fat
olive on a spear at the bottom of the  glass. Lastly Nathan puts tall
glasses of lemonades with a cherry on top and  straws in front of Chubby and
Charlie. The glasses have various colored balloons  painted on them. The look on
Chubby's face is priceless! My smile almost reaches  my ears, then I do a
couple of fake coughs before muttering, "Colorful  glass." Chubby goes, 'Well
of all the bleeping nerve!" Nathan grins, "See  me Wednesday and I'll buy
you the drink of your choice, Jeff." We give him a  little applause as he
goes about his business.

Oh man, I pick up my drink  and propose a toast, saying, "God bless these
children we're dining with  tonight," and, trying not to grin too hard, the
other adults say, "Hear  hear," and we click glasses as Charlie and Chubby
shake their heads. Rider goes,  "That was a classic moment, Jeff, one we'll
all remember for some time." Chubby  ignores the straw and gulps down half his
lemonade, then stage-whispers to  Charlie, "Never trust anyone over
twenty." Charlie says, "I thought it was over  thirty." I never know if Charlie is
saying something seriously,  or jokingly. I start to propose another toast,
but my Mom says, "Don't  overdo it, honey. Share your drink with your
brother." That's a nice thought and  I can see the influence the fiancés have.

Last night the Moms grumbled  about Chubby having an underage cocktail. I pass
my glass  to Chubby, saying, "Not too much, it might burn your young
throat." He takes a  gulp then grunts out a laugh spitting some of the martini on
his roll plate.  Chub and I pass the martini back and forth making a face
every time we  swallow some of it. Chubby offers some to Charlie, but he just
shakes his  head. I order a second martini that Nathan brings me along with
our appetizers.  He has a knowing smirk on his face as he sets the martini
down in front of me  and takes away the empty glass that's in front of Chubby,
who snatches the olive  out at the last second and plops it in his  mouth.

The dinner is a fun time and for  dessert I suffer through the waitresses
and waiters holding a cake  with twenty-one burning candles singing the long
version of happy  birthday to me. It makes me blush self-consciously just
like it did last year.  How old do you need to be before you don't feel weird
having happy birthday sung  to you by strangers? Bud pays with his AMEX card
and we all thank  him profusely. The twins are generous guys who offer
their generosity  without saying a word about it, except acknowledging thanks,
"You're  very welcome. It's our pleasure." Ya gotta like class acts like
those  two.

The older adults are going to a club  in Avalon. Chubby has a date with
Ellie, and Charlie and I are going to the  boardwalk. On the ride back to
Wildwood, Chubby and Charlie sing happy birthday  to me the entire trip. I do not
blush during their rendition, but I do glance at  Charlie a couple of times
because, like Robby, he can actually sing. Chubby  sings like I do, badly.

When Chubby drops us off a 36th street, we wave goodbye,  then I tell
Charlie, "Dude, you have a good singing voice." He smirks and says,  "Yeah,
everybody tells me that." I mutter his line, "No they  don't."

We go on a couple of thrill rides,  and walk the boards pointing out guys
who we think would be perfect for each  other, obviously choosing unlikely
goof-ball looking candidates   After a while Charlie asks, "Is this the  kind
of activity a twenty-one year old should be a part of?" I go, "Fuck, no!
This is a fifteen year old's material, but I'm a little drunk. I  almost
hurled on the tilt-a whirl." He mumbles, "Everyone almost hurls on  the
tilt-a-whirl." We challenge each other to a miniature golf match with five  bucks
going to the winner, but when we get to the miniature golf layout there's  too
many parents with little kids whacking the different colored golf balls  all
over the place. We look at each other, shake our heads, and walk  away.

Charlie says, "How about we have sex on the beach?" I go, "A birthday  fuck,
huh? You can be a stand-in for my boyfriend. Good idea." He goes, "I'm  sure
your boyfriends would think so too."

Walking down the steps to the beach  I'm thinking how this reminds me of
Fort Lauderdale when I was with the very  gay, Terry. We had sex in the sand
and in the ocean, if I am remembering that  correctly. Carrying our sandals,
Charlie and I walk in the sand close to the  boardwalk continuing to say
everything partially tongue in cheek. I'm like the  all-knowing experienced
expert on gay sex and Charlie's playing the part of the  novice who's eager to
learn. When we reach the end of the boardwalk we go  down near the ocean and
smoke a cigarette walking on the wet sand allowing  the waves' to run-off
to roll over our bare feet. We're now exchanging  stories of how we first
knew we were gay, how and when we came 'out',  and the reactions of those we
knew to the news that we're  gay.

Coming to the end of the beach where  it starts mixing with stones, then
ugly sand-grass and dirt, we sit on  an abandoned overturned row boat and
tried to find a compromise for  Charlie's haircut. One that would please his
parents and that Charlie wouldn't  hate. I tell him, "You could just continue
with the long hair, ya know, if it  means so much to you. After all you are
twenty years old and able to decide what  hairdo you want to wear." He shakes
his head, then runs his fingers through  the seven inch long hair on the
side of his head, saying, "Nah, I want a change  too. Mostly I'm tired of
hearing about it from the 'rents." Without coming to a  consensus about his
hair, we light another cigarette and walk back towards  the sandy beach until we
hear subtle sounds; low moans and some heavy breathing.  We stop, frown,
and look around. Then Charlie points to moon shadows  in the night up near the
street. A guy and girl are having sex on a  blanket, or tarp of some kind.

We can barely make them out, but it looks like  the girl's sitting up,
raising and lower herself, presumably on a guy's erected  penis.

Putting my finger to my lips, "Shh,"  I nod towards the ocean and we go
down to the wet sand again, not speaking until  were well away from the couple.

Charlie says, "Maybe we can use their tarp when  they're done with it." He
makes me laugh with how seriously he says goofy  things. Usually he's
joking, but like I said it's not always easy to tell. When  we're again
approaching the beginning of the boardwalk, I say, "From here  we  could simply walk
the two blocks to  my condo." Charlie goes, "Nah, I was hoping we could screw
in the sand. Ya know,  so I can check that off my bucket list." I mutter,
"You're too young to have a  bucket list, and where did that phrase come from
anyway?" He mumbles, "A movie,  I think." It's too open here for sex, and
even under the end of the boardwalk  there'd be people right above us. The
boardwalk at the end is twenty feet  above the sand, but that's still too
close to do  anything involving
squealing.

We walk back the way we came, away  from the boardwalk. I'm thinking this
isn't nearly worth the trouble, except  Charlie obviously is stoked to do it.

We walked close to the water  our first trip down this far on the beach, so
now we walk near the top of  the beach and after a while I see something
ahead of us that we couldn't  have seen from down near the water. It's a three
sided alcove below  street level. It was obviously intentionally dug out
some years ago for reasons  unknown. Sand and dirt have drifted over time to
form a slope from the beach  almost to the top of the side walls. The slopes
are partially  covered with that rough sand-grass.  When we walk up to it I
see the bottom is soft sand and the side walls reach a  few inches higher
than me. The two sides are made of what appears to  be creosote treated
railroad ties. The back wall is just packed dirt and  when we walk inside and look
out we can't see the waves breaking on the  shoreline... the incline's too
steep from here to the ocean. Charlie says, "Holy  shit! We could move in
here and no one would ever find us." A bit of an  exaggeration since there's
no roof and it's open in front, plus anyone walking  by on the sidewalk above
us, a mere few feet away, could look down and see us in  this, whatever
this is.

I mumble, "No way we're likely to  find a spot safer than this to fuck in."

Charlie, ever  the perfectionist, whines, "We should be nearer the ocean."

I mutter, "The  ocean's sixty yards away. That qualifies as 'near'." He
pulls his shorts and  underpants down to just above his knees," murmuring,
"Yeah, that's close  enough and anyway I'm horny as hell." Glancing at that big
dick of his I finally  feel a little horniness myself. He holds out his dick
with a grin on his face,  saying, "I can't fuck you with a noodle." As I'm
pulling my shorts down I have  an idea, and say, "As much as I'd enjoy
sucking that nice looking cock of  yours, I have an idea for something
different." He mumbles, "Why doesn't that surprise me?" I go, "Give me your  dick." He
shuffles forward and I take it from his fingers lining up the head of  his
cock with mine, then pulling the foreskin from my penis over his and
covering both heads. Charlie moves his feet in place, grunting, "Oh my God,
whaddaya doing? That feels, um, hot." I say, "A new friend of mine, a kid  named
Frankie Denton, recently reminded me of a little procedure called
cock-docking, or just plain 'docking'. And get this,;  he's the cousin of that fat
Carl asshole I told you about." He goes, "The one  who forced you to have
sex?" I shrug, "He didn't exactly force me, but never  mind that now."

As I try stroking our flaccid  docked cocks Charlie shudders, giggling, and
his cock pulls free. "That  feels, I don't know, weird. How's it work,
Dylan?" I go, "It won't work at all  if you can't stand still, numb-nuts." He
steps close to me again and  I pick  his soft cock up, telling him, "That kid,
Frankie, claims it works better with  boners, but I want to try it this
way." He says, "We're still gonna fuck though,  right?" I do a quick look
around, telling him, "Keep your voice down. Someone  could be  walking on the
other side of the street and we can't see them from down here." I  try a couple
of times, but our cocks are too floppy, so I mumble, "Frankie's  right,"

and bend at the waist taking Charlie's cock in my mouth. He smells  clean
tonight after his  shower a few hours ago. He rubs my  head, murmuring, "Mmmm,
oooh, yeah, feels good, Dylan." His cock firms up in  less than a minute, but
then I noticed before that he gets aroused  quickly.

Stroking his saliva ladened cock a  few times, I mumble, "Now mine," and
Charlie bends over to suck on my cock.  Mine is not as limp as it was a minute
ago. I tend to spring a boner while  sucking another guy's cock so, like
Charlie, I get aroused pretty easily too.  He's got a really good cock to suck
too, long and heavy. It's going to feel  awesome up my ass. With the top of
Charlie's blond head against my belly and his  long blond hair hanging
below my balls, they're tickling the inside of my thighs  a little. Charlie's
hair looks pretty shining in the moonlight. Maybe I'll  grow my hair out that
long just to see what it's like. Charlie makes slurping  sounds sucking cock
and I kinda like that, but it's not long before I need to  say, "Umpth,"

that's enough Charlie." He  lifts his head, and I grunt out, "You suck cock
good. You'd have me blowing my  load in another ninety seconds." He shrugs,
"Thanks, I've sucked Geoff's little  cock about fifty times." Lining our
cocks up again, I ask, "How  little is Geoff's cock?" He goes, "About the same
size as  yours," and he laughs as I mutter,  'Asshole."

It's much easier with firm cocks.  "Okay, Charlie, I got it now," and I do
a tight stroke up my cock,  then over the docking, and down his cock, then
back the other way and  Charlie makes a long hissing sound, then mutters,
"Jesus Christ, I'm gonna cum."  I do three more tight steady strokes and his
hips hump as he pours warm creamy  cum over the head of my cock. Fuck, I
thought he was kidding! Balls! Taking my  hand away, I step back holding my
breath trying not to climax myself. Gasping, I  mutter, "That was close. When
your cum hit the head of  my cock it was like this awesome sensation.

Mind-blowing knowing it's your  cum squishing around the head of my dick and under my
foreskin." He goes, "Well,  you've had your little fun. The question
becomes: how the hell am I going to  fuck you with my dick a long noodle again."

Hmm, I didn't think this through  very well. Pulling up my shorts, determined
to feel that cock of his up my ass,  I say, "We'll walk around, have a
smoke or something, until you can get hard  again." He snickers, "Yeah, it don't
take me too long. That felt really good  though." I tell him, "Well, pull
your fucking shorts up and we'll  check this area out closer. See if we
overlooked  anything."

We walk up the embankment to street  level and see houses across a rather
wide street with has cars parked on both  sides. No one's walking around,
although I can faintly hear voices coming  from some of the decks. Lots of
lights on in the house, but no street  lights. Checking my watch I see it's
coming up on midnight. That's no problem  since no one's expecting us. We light
cigarettes and walk back onto the beach.  I've got my arm across Charlie's
shoulders telling him, "You really need a  boyfriend to fall in love with,
Charlie." I tell him more about Robby's and my  long love affair and some of
the ups and downs that he may experience himself  someday. He finally says,
"Fuck, if I was  in love like you two, I'd never screw around on my lover."

Taking my arm off his  shoulders, I mutter, "Well, how fucking noble of you.

Anyway, how do you  know what you'd do since you've never been in love?" He
goes,  "Its common sense, common decency  you don't cheat on a lover as nice
 as yours."

After pouting for a minute at his  criticism, and not talking to him, I
tell myself to grow-up and I try explaining  that it's Robby's and my personal
plan to get all the side-sex out of our system  before we get married, "You
know, so we won't crave it after we're married." He  looks at me, asking,
"Seriously? I mean, you're actually being serious with this  bull shit?" I'm
frowning at him, "What's wrong with it?" He goes, "Well fuck,  you're just
deepening your habit of side-sex more than getting it out of  your system."

Taking an exasperating deep breath, I mutter, "There's no way you  could
understand. It's too advanced a concept for you to comprehend  with your limited
exposure to sex and love." He laughs, "Okay, Dylan, if  you say so. Far be
it from me to discourage you from having sex with me. This  has been the best
few days I've ever had, where sex is concerned.  You're turning me into an
experienced sex partner." I mumble, "Not hardly,  Charlie."

We walk without talking for a  while, then he puts his arm around my  waist
and moves his head close to mine, "You're not mad at me, are you, Dylan? I
was just breaking your balls back there." I shrug and he shrugs too, doing
his  snorting little laugh. Then I go, "Actually you'd be right for most
people, but  Robby and I aren't most people. I can see me saying to some random
lovers what  you said, but it doesn't apply to Rob and me." Trying to
backtrack, he goes,  "I believe that, really I do. I can see you're special and I
bet Bob is  too." I go, "It's Rob, not Bob." He says, "Oh, is his name
Robert?" Oh fuck,  I do one of his snorting laughs, then say, "Yeah, it's Robert
and his nickname  could be Bob, but it's not. It's Rob!" Charlie shrugs,
"Just saying..." I ask,  "Has anyone every mentioned anything to you about you
getting on  their nerves?" He laughs, "Yeah, just about everybody says
that."

I say, "Lets break another rule of  the Wildwood beach and skinny dip in
the ocean at midnight. Actually it's two  more rules we'll have broken; no,
it's three  altogether.  They can add the broken rule  of walking on the beach
after eleven o'clock at night, and smoking on the beach,  then skinny
dipping." He goes, "Oh goodie, a three-bagger of broken rules." I  mumble, "Too
bad we don't have a dog we could walk on the beach. That'd be like  an inside
the park four bagger." Charlie's one of those guys who's up for  anything,
so he goes, "Skinny dipping it is, why not have the whole shore
experience!" I'm like, "Yeah, I believe skinny dipping is mandatory if one  wants to do
it all." Carrying our sandals we walk down to the packed wet sand,  that's
just out of reach of the run-off from the waves, and put out sandals down
there. Pulling off our shirts and placing them on our sandals, then the same
with our shorts and underwear. Bare ass naked we run into the ocean until
we're  in deep enough to dive under.

We try telling each other it's not  cold, but without the sun it is kind of
cold. Charlie hugs me shivering, saying,  "Our body heat's the only thing
that can save us now, Dylan." He has a nice body  for hugging and we get our
arms around each other and try intertwining our legs,  tripping ourselves in
the process and both falling under water again. We come up  sputtering and
spitting out sea water. I mutter, "We're a couple of spastics."  He's
grinning hugging me again, his long wet hair flapping around. We start  humping
our pelvises together and in short order I get a hard on. Turning him  around
I try getting my dick up his ass but it's not a comfortable feeling  so we
give up and wade to shore. Out of the water we start shivering with
Charlie's teeth chattering so we hug for real, getting tight together, which  does
nothing to lessen the hardness of my cock.

Rubbing our hands over each other's  back we warm up enough to break our
embrace, but we're still too wet to put our  clothes on. Walking around naked
in the warm air we begin drying off.  Charlie puts his hand on my shoulder,
saying, "You know what? If you were my  neighbor instead of Tarleckie I'll
bet you and me would fall in love." This he says very seriously, I think. I
grin  at him, "Probably, Charlie." He says, "You said you kiss before sex."

I shrug,  "Yeah, as foreplay, especially with my boyfriend." He asks, "But
never with guys  you call sex buddies?" I go, "What are you talking about? I
kissed you, didn't  I? Hell, we made-out for like fifteen minutes the other
day." He nods,  "Yeah, we did, didn't we? Can we do it some more.? I  liked
it." Spreading my arms, looking around us to indicate to him how fully
exposed we are. He grins saying, "Yeah, we're out in the open, naked in case you
 forgot, so what difference does it make if two naked guys are kissing?
We're  fucked either way if a beach patrol happens by.

Can't argue with that logic, so we  embrace and our lips meet. He's still
too enthusiastic a kisser, but I'm  enjoying his exuberance. There's really
nothing not to  like about Charlie. He's affectionate, cute, he has a nice
body, and he's crazy  about sex. Our making-out builds into something, and it
isn't long before  I'm not the only one with a boner. Our hands have been
all over each other's  naked bodies and it's been nicely sexy and even a
little sexually hot. After a  few minutes we're clinging together, the sides of
our faces together as we both  gasps for air. I say, in between deep breaths,
"Let's get our clothes." He gives me  a tight hug, then we get our stuff
off the sand laughing at each other because  we both have hard boners up
against our bellies.

Walking up to the alcove carrying  our clothes and sandals, then in the
alcove we drop everything in  the sand and Charlie hugs me from behind humping
against my ass. Without either  of us saying a word his boner's at my
asshole and he has this unusual way of  plugging half the head in my anus, then
wrapping his arms around my waist and  instead of humping his cock in, he
applies constant pressure against my anus  until the head of his boner slowly
and tightly pushes past my sphincter  muscles, then he keeps pushing it up my
ass until he's flat against my back  .That's a big boner on that boy and it
hurt like hell the entire time it  was going up my ass. I held my breath the
thirty seconds it took him to get it  all up there. Now I do a long gasping
exhale and groan, "Oow, oooh, fuck that  hurt." It's not only the length
and girth of his boner, but the salt water dried  on his dick and the salt
left behind scratched going in. Charlie pulls it out  right away, which hurt
almost as much as him pushing it in. I bend over  holding my breath again and
not thinking about anything except the pain in  my rectum.

As the pain recedes I exhale and  grunt out, "What the fuck, Charlie?" He's
real contrite, "I'm so sorry I hurt  you, Dylan. I really am." He goes
through the pockets of his  shorts, saying, "Ronny threw his condom packet at me
before he left. Yes, here  it is. It's lubricated." I nod, not sure I want
his boner up my ass again this  soon, lubricated or not. He's rolling it on
his cock, saying, "Geoff and I  used condoms on the dildos every time. We
change them each time too because he  has that thing about feces." Whatever.

His condom-covered boner  is still very hard and now lifting away from his
stomach. He must have been very  aroused shoving it up my ass a minute ago.

I'm thinking maybe I'll fuck him  instead, when he says, "Please let me try it
again. I need to get experienced being a top  even though I love being the
bottom." I shrug, which he ignores this time. He's  looking at me with
pleading eyes. Oh fuck, I say, "Sure, my ass is feeling  better already."

He puts his hands on my shoulders  and gentle turns me around, murmuring,
"I'll do it slower this time." The  lubricated nipple at the end of the
condom, supposedly to handle the orgasm  fluid, hits my asshole first, then it's
the head going in halfway. He puts his  arms around my waist and does it the
same way as last time. Pressure, then more  pressure, finally stretches my
anus and the head slides past my sphincter muscle  going in easier with the
lube. He'd partially stretched my anus during his first  penetration, so
that helped too. It's a much better trip up my ass this time,  although there's
still some pain. His boner's not as long as Ryan's by an inch,  but it's at
least as thick. I don't want to seem wimpy to Charlie  though, and I have
my pride, so I keeps my groans from the hurt to myself.  Charlie sees me as
this sophisticated sex expert so I hold my breath. He's fully  impaled me now
and leaning tightly against my back while squeezing his arms  around my
waist.

With his lips at my ear, he  asks in a murmur, "Everything  okay?" I exhale
a long held breath, quietly saying, "Just give it a few more  seconds,
Charlie. You're rather well -endowed so we need to let my rectum  get used to
your big cock." As usual it soon begins feeling good. I haven't been  this
filled up in a while, and just picturing it in my head, his big cock  packed
tightly up my ass with Charlie draped all over me makes  my shoulders shudder.

He goes, "Feeling good now, right?" I nod my  head and he pulls his cock
back, murmuring, "I'll do it real easy, Dylan,"  making me do one of his
snorting short laughs again. He goes, "What?" and I'm  like, "It just struck me
funny how you're treating me like it's my first  time when it's only your
second time, and I've had sex, um, more then that." He  goes, "Well, I don't
want to hurt you." I mumble, "I appreciate that, Charlie,  but it's feeling
really good right now. Go to it whenever you're  ready."

Charlie is still cautiously  taking it slow for the first couple of minutes
and I'm sucking on my lips  because it does feel awesome. My prostate is
sizzling and my stretched anus  is like a bad itch that's being scratched
deliciously. Soon though  Charlie begins moaning with each push of his boner up
my ass. He's like,  "Oooh, ooh, ooh," with each thrust and as the sensations
pile up on his  pecker he begins thinking only about that throbbing cock of
his and begins  fucking me faster until it's the full blown, "Slap, slap,
slap, slap," sounds of  him slapping against my buttocks with each thrust.

We're both moaning now,  eyes closed and our bodies jostling as he rams it in
harder and faster. I hardly  know it's Charlie fucking me by now because my
brain is overloaded with sexual  pleasure. Every fraction of an inch in my
rectum is buzzing  with pleasure. His body slamming against mine pushes me
forward a little  with each thrust until my hands are against the packed dirt
at the back of the  alcove. "Slap, slap, slap," with grunts and moan from
both of us. Then quickly  my climax comes on me and I gasp, tighten all the
muscles in my body,  and hump my hips forward with my cock now sticking
straight out. I do my  involuntary squeal as my orgasm explodes and cum flies
straight out splattering  against the packed dirt a foot from the end of my hard
 cock.

Charlie's totally  against my body humping against my butt cheeks making a
breathy whiny sound as I  suppose he's filling the condom with cum. I hump
again and shoot a shorter shot  of spunk then grab my cock and stroke our
some more creamy jism. Then, just that  quickly, both of us are spent, limp,
and taking deep breaths. He backs away from  me pulling his cock out of my
ass. It's wide open back there but because of the  condom no cum is drooling
out. My ass is sticky with lubricant though. I  push off the wall of packed
dirt and watch Charlie pull the condom off. He  holds it up and  looks at the
golf ball side load of cum, saying, "It felt like a lot more  than that shot
out." I go, "Yeah, it usually  does."

He drops the condom and passes me  my shirt. As I pull it over my head, he
asks the inevitable question, "How'd I  do, Dylan. Did it feel good?" I pat
his shoulder and build him up saying it was  an awesome fuck, and then add
in some compliments about his penis.  He's all smiles, and what the hell, it
was a good climax I had. Not in the  same category as any climax Robby fucks
out of me of course, but all climaxes  are good. Some are spectacular
though as I can attest to. We get dressed  with my shirt sticking a little to the
salt on my back left there from the ocean  water when it evaporated.

Walking back towards the boardwalk a half mile ahead,  I ask, "Does it seem like
it's getting darker to you, Charlie?" We both look up,  "Yeah, it's getting
real cloudy. Can't see any stars." I go, "Oh balls, it  might be rainy day at
the shore tomorrow." Charlie puts his arm across my  shoulders, saying, "Ya
know what? I'd love to spend tomorrow in bed with you and  let it rain all
it wants." I go, "That's nice of you to think about me like  that, Charlie,
but it's probably not gonna happen." He mumbles, "I know that, I  was just
telling you what I'd love to do." It is flattering I  suppose.

The sky opens up just as we reach  the boardwalk. We don't even speed up
our walking as the rain's coming down so  hard each drop splatters when it
hits the street. After the five minute walk to  the condos we're as saturated
as if we just got out of a pool. Standing in the  alley halfway between
Charlie's and my condos, I say, "Maybe I'll see ya  tomorrow, Charlie." He goes,
"Yeah, I hope so. G' night, Dylan," and we walk in  the pouring rain to the
steps of our decks and up we go as I'm thinking  that  Charlie does casual
buddy sex as well as Frankie does it. Those two 'get'  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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