Date: Sun, 24 Apr 2016 12:29:19 -0400
From: MGTBILL@aol.com
Subject: DYLAN'S VACATION BACK HOME   Chapter  22

DYLAN'S VACATION BACK  HOME



Chapter  22



By  Donny Mumford



Walking inside our rented condo with rain dripping off me I leave a  trail
of wet footprints into my bedroom. Huh, I'm feeling pretty good  considering
I got caught in a torrential downpour. Raining at night's one thing,  but
it better be over with by morning! After yanking off my sopping wet  clothes
I take a quick warm shower, then dry myself, put on boxer shorts and get  in
bed. I'm the first one home at one o'clock in the morning and I'm out like
a  light sleeping so soundly I never hear Chubby or the moms come  home.

It's now nine-thirty Tuesday morning and I'm awake laying here  looking out
the window at a gray morning with rain still coming down. It's not  raining
nearly as hard as it was last night coming off the beach  with Charlie, but
it's a steady rain. Swell, a rainy vacation day at the  shore. Glancing
over at Chubby, who's still sleeping soundly in the bed  next to mine, all I
can see of him is the back of his head and the covers moving  slightly with
his breathing. I get up to take a piss, wash my hands, and brush  my teeth...

then right back to bed. The next thing I'm aware of is the shower  running
in our bathroom. Chubby's up and as usual he's left the bathroom door  open.

Checking my wristwatch I'm happy to see it's almost eleven o'clock which
means I had a helluva good night's sleep! Normally after that much sleep,
waking  up to a sun-shiny day, I'd be raring to go. It's not a sun-shiny day
though, so  there's little incentive for me to get out of  bed.

I'm still in bed when Chubby comes out of the bathroom, naked of  course.

He has a towel over his shoulder and a sparkling smile on his face.  "Hey,
Dylan. G'morning!" He comes right over to hug my shoulders and give me a
quick kiss on the lips. He smells like bath gel and peppermint toothpaste. I go,
 "Hi Chub! How ya doing this morning?" He tells me, "I'm good, bro, except
it's  fuckin' raining on our parade." I shrug as he smiles brightly, "Lets
go to a bar  and get drunk." I grin, "We'll be drunk some time tomorrow, I'm
pretty sure of  that." He goes, "Yeah, heh heh, I'll finally be legal age."

I ask, "What time  did you get in last night?" He's like, "Jeez, I don't
even know. The moms'  bedroom doors were closed though, so it must have been
after two. Ellie is so  much fun and so 'up' for, ahh... just about anything.

I wish she lived closer to  us back home. Commuting to Delaware probably
wouldn't work out." As he's telling  me that he's going through a drawer in the
bureau dropping clothes on the floor  left and right, looking for
something. We've been here three days and I've had  to pick-up our bedroom floor
twice already. I'm more of a neatnik than my  brother, but because it's Chubby I
don't mind picking up after him... he doesn't  mind either.

He finds the t-shirt he's looking for and then he stuffs some of  the
clothes he dropped on the floor back in the drawer. I mutter, "Thanks,"  with a
grin. He goes, "Huh?" not knowing what I'm referring to. I smile as  Chubby
points at the window with his thumb, asking, "What should we do  today in the
rain?" I say, "As long as you're doing it with me, I don't much  care.

Whatever you wanna do is good by me." He mutters something I can't  hear as I
get out of bed and go in the bathroom to pee, wash my hands and  face, and
brush my teeth again. While I'm doing that Chubby stands at the  bathroom door
wearing the t-shirt he was looking for, but nothing else, as he  asks, "How
'bout we go to the Atlantic City Race Track?" I go, "It's closed  forever,
as of last February. I remember reading about it online." He goes,  "Dammit!

You're twenty-one and could have placed bets for us." Done my piss, I'm
washing my hands as Chubby tells me, "Well fuck it then, there's other race
tracks in New Jersey. I'm going online to see if there's one within, um, say a
 hundred miles." I shrug, than chuckle to myself because I seem to have
picked-up  this shrugging-habit from Charlie.

Out of the bathroom now, I lean over Chubby with my hand on his  shoulder
looking at his laptop screen. He goes, "Well I'll be a sonofabitch!  There's
an active race track in Freehold, New Jersey, which is about a hundred
miles from here straight down the Garden State Parkway, but there's no racing
during August." I go, "Too hot for the horses, and anyway that's Harness
Racing." He goes, "Oh man! What are we going to do today?" Stopping myself
before I shrug, I mumble, "Atlantic City boardwalk? The Steel Pier is
supposedly  pretty cool and we can do some gambling on the slot machines in one of th
e  casinos." He's shaking his head, then he says in an imitation baby voice,
"I'm  not old enough to be in a casino," then in his regular voice, "Why
the fuck  couldn't it rain tomorrow instead of today" I pat his shoulder,
"That's alright,  sonny, you'll be all grown-up someday." He mumbles grumpily,
"Yeah, like  tomorrow, but that doesn't do us any good today."

After putting on baggy shorts and a t-shirt I walk into the kitchen
leaving Chubby scanning though an online list of '142 things to do in  Wildwood
New Jersey'. The moms are up and we exchange cheery 'hellos'. Tris  says to
me, "It's raining, honey, what are you boys going to do?" I shrug, "We  don't
know yet, but we'll think of something." My mom says, "You can come with  us
and the guys. We're going to Atlantic City where Rider's going to break the
 bank. Is that right, Tris?" Tris says, "More likely he's going to lose the
shirt  off his back." Mom says, "The slot machines are fun though. How
about it, Dylan,  want to join us." I shake my head, "No thanks, Chubby's not
twenty-one until  tomorrow so he wouldn't be allowed in the Casino." They both
nod their heads,  mumbling, "Oh yeah, well..." Chubby comes out of the
bedroom, muttering to me, "A  hundred and forty-two things to do in Wildwood, and
a hundred and thirty of them  you can't do in the rain. The other twelve are
so boring they shouldn't even be  listed." Then he puts this really bright
smile on his face, saying, "Good  morning, Moms! Don't you two look pretty
this  morning!"

I tell him, "They're going to Atlantic City today," and Tris says,  "We're
going to gamble a little bit, see a show, and have dinner there. We  planned
on spending a day in Atlantic City anyway, and since it's raining...

today's the day." Chubby goes, "Breakfast! That's what we'll do first!" He makes
scrambled eggs and I fry bacon while the moms make toast discussing which
washed-up entertainer's show they'll see in Atlantic City. We all chose our
favorite K-cups of coffee and sit down to break our fast. After eating and
cleaning up the kitchen, Chubby says, "Well, brother, we might as well do
what  most everybody in Wildwood will be doing, and hit the arcades." I ask,
"Did you  check the weather forecast? Maybe it won't be raining all day." We
go in our  bedroom again and fire-up the laptop. I pat Chubby's shoulder,
"See! It's  supposed to be sunny later this afternoon." He goes, "Goodie.

We'll have enough  time to buy a bucket and shovel so we can dig in the wet
sand and make a  castle." I ask, "Did you read where there's fetal matter in
the sand beaches,  and germs or bacteria that won't die. It's a disturbing
article I read online  last week." Chubby has his hands over his ears, "I'm not
listening. No sense  telling me shit I don't wanna hear because I'm not
listening." I mumble, "You  young'uns and your childish outbursts! The article
was one of Yahoo's. They  always have lots of outer space articles  too."

Chubby's takes his hands away from his ears chuckling and shaking  his
head, then goes back to scrolling Wildwood online sites trying to find
something different for us to do in the rain. I do a little ball-busting,  saying,
"Until the rain stops I think I'll spend some time drinking draft beer  at
Gregory's Bar with the other adults. Maybe shoot some pool." He laughs, jumps
up from his chair and gets me in a headlock and we exchange a little bodily
 contact for a minute or so. Chubby smells like himself now that the
bathing gel  scent has faded away.

We finally decide against the arcades because they're a money pit  and
they'll be too crowded. Instead we're driving to Cape May to hit golf balls
again. This Cape May driving range has two levels; the top one with a roof  so
you can hit golf balls rain or shine. We'll kill some time hitting a bucket
of golf balls and go on the beach later this afternoon when the sun comes
out.  We need the practice anyway if we're ever going to play a real golf
course.  During the ride to Cape May I tell Chubby about the hardly used golf
clubs of  Ryan's that Mrs. Wilcox gave me. He goes, "That's cool, but until
you see them  in your hands they're not really yours." I go, "Ryan said he'll
send them to me  via UPS. I believe him." We find the driving range, thanks
to our GPS, and  see right away we aren't the only ones to think of this.

All twenty-five top  spots are in use and there's even some die-hards hitting
balls on the first  level which is only partially protected from the rain.

The roof extends further  out up top, but down below the rain's blowing in
on the golfers. They don't  appear to care.

We buy buckets of range balls, rent drivers, and take a number.  It's like
you do for cold cuts at Stop & Shop; get a number and then wait  until your
number is called. We go up top and Chubby immediately strikes up a
conversation with three girls who are waiting for their number to be called.

They're apparently going to be sharing one bucket of balls as well as one golf
club. Chubby's asking the cutest girl, who isn't all that cute, if she'd give
him some golfing pointers. While he's doing that I'm checking out the
various  skill levels of the people driving golf balls. It varies widely and then
there's  the goof-offs. Five boys about fifteen or sixteen years old taking
turns seeing  how badly then can hit the golf balls. None of them are all
that cute, and a  couple are downright goofy looking. They look so young
though as they laugh  and make fun of each other. They're pretty much like most
kids, dressed for each  other in over-sized clothes, sneakers, and baseball
caps on backwards or  sideways trying to look confident. They're full of
pretense when in reality all  of them are a little overmatched by the speed at
which the world's coming at  them. Chubby and I were like that not too long
ago ourselves. Funny how the  messing around these boys are doing is getting
on my nerves when I can see  myself doing it at their age. They haven't a
clue how annoying they can be to  someone a mere five years older. They'll
find out what a pain in the ass they  are, but like me it'll be too late by
then.

Tired of watching the boys' shenanigans, I glance further down the  line at
a couple who look to be about thirty years old. They're both dressed  like
they're going to a trendy nightclub. She's wearing skin-tight designer
jeans with someone's name on the back pocket, and spiked heels. Her top is a low
 cut scarlet blouse worn open over a lavender t-shirt. Many gold chains
around  her neck and bracelets on her wrists that jangle when she swings the
club,  badly. She annoys me too. The woman's hair is the color of jonquils and
her  tanned face the color of honey. Not much make-up and I have to admit
she's  pretty, and quite agile hitting golf balls in those spiked heels while
defying  gravity. Her boyfriend's trendy outfit looks like it's being worn
for the first  time. There's something too smug about them, like they think
everyone is here to  watch them. I'm wondering if a twenty-one year old guy
will be critiquing what  I'm wearing when I'm thirty.

Then the girls' number is called and they have slot 14. Chubby goes  with
them and I grin watching the girls take turns giving Chubby lessons on
driving the golf ball. He acts spastic and they're all laughing. Each girl takes
a try at demonstrating her golf swing, then a girl with the blackest hair
I've  ever seen stands behind Chubby, her arms reaching around him, her hands
on his  hands as she tries to show him the correct arc for taking the club
back. The  funniest part is none of the girls knows what they're doing. They
all have  terrible golf swings; comically terrible. They're laughing and
having a grand  old time as I realize they're just as annoying as the teenage
boys and the over  dressed thirty-something couple. Oh man, maybe too many
things annoy me. I need  to chill out.

It's almost an hour before our number's called and by then the  sun's out.

Everything looks new after it rains with the sun shining on the  wetness.

The girls are long gone by now. Chubby's telling me two of the girls  slipped
their cellphone numbers to him. I ask him, "You going to call either of
them?" He goes, "Nah, there's only one of them slightly interesting as far as
I'm concerned and she was the most aloof of them all." I ask, "You mean
stuck-up? Was it the girl with the fat ass?" He laughs, "They all had fat
asses.  No, the girl with the braid in her hair and the black nail polish." I
shrug,  "What's hot about her? She had a ring in her nostril." Chubby goes,
"She was  sexy, bro!" Eye of the beholder I guess.

The temperature warms up fast and we're sweating by the time we've  hit all
the balls in our baskets. Unfortunately I didn't see any  improvement in
either of our driving skills, but I think I'd be okay on a golf  course, at
least when driving and putting. The trouble is there's some important  shots
in between those two functions that I need lots of work on. Specifically
fairway shots and using a pitching wedge around the greens. You can't tee the
ball up in the fairway, which sucks. Oh well, I'll need to hit many
practice balls using the numbered iron clubs. To simulate hitting balls off the
fairway I'll hit balls off the mat at a driving range, plus play many rounds
on  pitch and putt courses to improve my pitching wedge skill level. And I
guess take some more golf lessons too. Fuckin' golf, it looks way easier
than it is.

Anyway, now we're on our way back to Wildwood planning to eat lunch  on the
boardwalk and then get our swimsuits and spend the rest of the afternoon
on the beach. We've only lost a morning of beach time so if it doesn't rain
again the rest of the week, I can live with the loss of one morning on the
beach. We eat at Mac's Pizza because it's really good pizza, very different
from  any other pizza I've ever had. Most pizza shops use generic pizza
sauce and  it's hard to tell one from the other. Then there's Mac pizza with the
thin crust  that doesn't droop when you pick a slice up, but it's mostly
the sauce that  makes it unique. I couldn't begin to try describing it. It
just is. By the time  we get to the beach the sand has dried, which is good,
but there's seaweed in  the water which isn't good. After the storm though the
ocean's rougher than  normal with good waves for body surfing and that's
very good.  What's also  different is that the moms, Bud, and Rider aren't
here, and neither are the  Barn's family who apparently decided this was an
entirely lost beach day  and came up with an alternate plan.

So it's Chubby and me on the beach alone this afternoon; alone with  maybe
fifty thousand strangers. It's a very different experience with just the
two of us, and I like it a lot. I mean, I like the chatter and company of the
others in our beach group, but Chubby and I don't get a chance to spend
private time together as much as we'd like. That's true except on vacation
when we often spend some hours just him and me. We talk about personal things.

 Today we're talking about Cubby's plans for after college, which I've
never  asked him about in a serious way before. He tells me it's something he's
given a  lot of thought. He tells me during his initial research he mostly
came up with  jobs and professions he doesn't want to do, instead of ones he
might want to consider. He says, "For example, Dylan, I can't see  myself
working nine to five in an office hovering over a computer. It's a  computer
world though, so I began looking into lesser known career  computer-related
job opportunities and discovered interesting esoteric parts of  the computer
world that have some allure to me." I ask, "Like what, Chub?" He  goes,
"Programming and video game design for two. They involve lots of math  which
I'm good at. There's also tech support, software development, animation,  web
technology, things like that." I go, "Wow, you've been busy researching that
 stuff, huh?" He makes a face, squeezing my shoulders, saying, "Yeah, but
don't  tell anyone. If everyone knew they'd think I'm too serious and I
prefer they  think of me as a party animal. I'll sneak up on them in the end and,
ta da, I'll  be rich and a huge success. Shock the shit out of everybody,
ya  know?"

I'm nodding my head, then say, "Won't you need specialized  schooling to do
those things?" He goes, "Unfortunately yes. After a general  college
education at Merrimack I'll need to enroll in a place like Full Sail  University."

I go, "Wow, I've heard of that university, but I forget who told me  about
it." Chubby says, "Well, it's like the number one or two top universities
in the country for those technology areas I mentioned." I'm like, "Huh,
that's slightly more ambitious than my tentative plans for the future." He grins
 at me, totally interested, asking, "And what might your plans be, bro?" I
shrug,  "I'm kind of embarrassed to say after hearing your plans, but you
already know I  have a keen interest in cutting guy's hair, so maybe I'll go
on to further  education after Merrimack too. Not as grandiose as a
university, but to a barber  college. I'd need that certificate if I want to open my
own barbershop." He  asks, "Where would you open your barbershop?"

Shrugging, I'm like, "Well, I  suppose I'd open a shop near some big college campus."

He goes, "That's not so  crazy, bro, most people work at jobs they hate.

Doing something you like, and  making a living too, that's pretty much the
ideal situation. Avocation as your  vocation, sweet!" I go, "Yeah, but there's
drawbacks. I only like cutting young  guys' hair, which is why I'd have a
barbershop near a big college campus, the  bigger the better. The trick is to
have an attractive pricing policy. Nowadays I  see barbershops advertising
$10 haircuts for seniors. I'd advertise the  opposite. Students haircut $10
and everyone else $25 and up. Something like  that." He laughs, "A bit
obvious, but would you get rich doing that?" I go, "I'd  make enough money to suit
me. I don't need to be  rich."

After a few seconds Chubby says, "Yeah, but what about marrying  Robby.

Doesn't he want you to work with him at his father's business?"  Scratching my
head, I'm frowning, admitting, "There are a few obstacles in the  way of my
ideal job. Dickers and Son is one of them, but the big one is Robby  wanting
to have two kids, and he wants me to be the stay at home dad when  we have
them." Chubby nods, "Yeah, you told me that before. How you going  to handle
that?" I say, "The same way regular married people handle it:  nurseries,
preschool, kindergarten, nannies, whatever the fuck." He asks, "And  Rob's
okay with that?" I shrug, "Not yet he's not, but he will be when the time
comes. And I'm realistic too; maybe I'll never get the barbershop... I'm  just
not ready to give up on it yet."

After a while we go in for a swim, then take a long walk on  the beach
sometimes talking and sometimes not. Giving up on the beach around  six, we
shower and have dinner at a small restaurant we've never been to before.  After
an okay dinner we go back to the condo and sit on the deck drinking beers,
listening to music, and talking. I get a text from Dodger around ten o'clock
 asking would I meet him at his motel at two o'clock tomorrow afternoon.

Texting  back I tell him Chubby and I will both see him there and we're very
much looking  forward to it. Dodger texts back saying `Good! And sometime
tomorrow I'm  going to give your ass a hard f**king'. I don't share that text
with Chubby, but it makes my dick slide around happily in my shorts.  Chubby
says, "What do you want to bet that Vinnie's with Dodger and his friend?"

I tell him, "Considering Dodger's bringing an Army friend with him; I'd say
it's  fifty/fifty that Vinnie will also be with him." I forget if Chubby
knows  Dodger's gay. I don't think he does. If Dodger's Army 'friend' is gay
it'll be  problematic having Vinnie there too. Chubby says, "Vinnie will be
there. He  means a lot to Dodger and Dodger wouldn't hurt Vinnie's feeling by
not including  him." Oh, so maybe he does know they're both  gay.

Whatever, we're in bed my midnight and then, just like that, it's a  sunny
Wednesday morning. Chubby and I are up early, out on the deck  with coffees.

The first thing I said to Chubby when I woke him was, "Happy  twenty-first
birthday, Chub!" and we hugged. Yeah, and he had the biggest smile  as he
mumbled, "Finally I can get drunk in a bar with my big brother." I love
seeing his animated happy face. I say, "Yes, we can both start the long road to
AA meetings together." He goes, "Not happening, bro, we're both blessed with
 incredible will power, plus we're true to our motto of moderation in all
things." I go, "Most things, might be more accurate,  Chub."

It's a beautiful hot day with low humidity, and low humidity is  rare for
the shore. The moms sleep in and we don't expect to see then until the
middle of the afternoon. They didn't get back from Atlantic City until the wee
hours of the morning. I'm kinda interested in hearing about their trip, and
if  they actually won money gambling. Of course I hope they did although the
odds of  that are not in their favor. Skipping breakfast, Chubby and I get
the beach  stuff out of the Volvo and take it with us to the beach. It's a
little  after nine when we're setting up the chairs and umbrella for whenever
the moms  make it down here. Ellie, Jessica, and Charlie show up around
ten-thirty,  everyone remembers it's Chubby's birthday and acknowledges it's the
big one. A  milestone birthday according to Jesse, who looks really cute
today with another  variation of her ponytail hairdos. Very girlish. Today is
also the first of two  Ronny Tarleckie-free days, which makes Charlie happy
and me  too.

Jesse tells us that yesterday they all went to visit friends in  Ocean
City. Charlie goes, "Boring day sitting around all morning. In the  afternoon
the beach over there was really nice though. Of course we had to buy  beach
tags for the day. Rip-off city!" The three of them go on to tell Chubby  and
me about Ocean City and how it compares with Wildwood. The boardwalk over
there is maybe a third the size of Wildwood's, but they feel the beaches are
nicer.

Later  everyone's busy. Chubby's talking with Ellie, Jesse's on her
cellphone, so it's  just Charlie and me who go in for a swim. He's into rubbing
against my body  and asking, "When can we do it again, Dylan?" I kid him,
saying, "You've gotta  do Ronny Tarleckie first, don't you?" He goes, "Not now!

That's for some Labor  Day when I'm zonked on pot and I've gulped down a six
pack of beer along with a  number of shots of vodka. Don't you remember?" I
go, "Vaguely," and he splashes  water in my face, saying, "It was you who
brokered the arrangement between  Tarleckie and  me." I go, "Brokered? Where'd
you come up with that word?" He says, "I know some  words, but I use them
sparingly." I take this opportunity to dunk him under and  he comes up
spitting out salt water, complaining, "I swallowed a mouthful of  this dirty ocean
water." Swimming away from him to avoid retaliation, I say,  "I've got a
really good friend coming in this afternoon, Charlie, so I don't  think I'll
be able to get free to 'do it', as you put it." He goes, "That sucks  for
me!" I say, "Don't pout! We've got three more days, and there's no way I'm  not
'doing it' with you few more times." He shrugs, "Only a few more times?"

and  he swims over to me fast and tries dunking me. His wet slippery body
feels good  as we wrestle in the ocean getting salt water in our  eyes.

Walking back to shore, he says, "I'll bet you'll chicken-out on an  idea I
have." I mumble, "Probably, what's the idea?" He does an elaborate shrug,
saying, "Okay, you and me, right this minute walk up the beach to our alcove
and  do it there in broad daylight." I say, "You've discovered my secret!

I'm too  much of a chicken to do sex out in the open in broad daylight." He's
like, "At  least walk up there with me. I wanna see if my condom's still
lying where I  threw it." I call his bluff, "Let's go," and we start walking
way up the  beach toward the end of the boardwalk with Charlie making weird
sounds,  "Buuuook, buook, buook." I ask, "What the fuck is that supposed to
be?" He says,  "That's the sounds a chicken makes." I go, "Not the chickens I
buy at Stop &  Shop." Actually I don't believe I've ever seen a live
chicken, never mind  heard one make their sound.

We're past the boardwalk when Charlie asks, "Hey, Dylan, when you  going to
give me that haircut?" I go, "Another one?" He ignores that, saying,  "You
also need to help me decide what kind of haircut to get." I tell him,
"Yeah, I will, Charlie, but not now." He goes, "Oh my God, look at that kid in
the pink bathing suit." I look over then mumble, "It's not pink, it's salmon,
 and what about him?" He asks, "Don't you think he's hot?" I mutter, "No,
and he's too young anyway. Too young even for you," and he goes, "You're
barely a year older than me, whaddaya talking about." I rub the back of my
fingers on his chin, "You need to shave, little buddy." He goes, "How come
you're always clean shaven? Isn't it a pain in the ass shaving every day?"

Sidestepping that, I'm like, "Is it impossible for you walk fifty feet
without talking or asking me a question?" He goes, "If I want to I can." Then,
grinning, he tries pulling my bathing suit down. We wrestle a little with the
sides of our faces rubbing together, and just like that we kiss on the
beach. We  both look surprised, then start walking again with me muttering,
"Stop trying to  pull my cool bathing suit down." He goes, "It is pretty cool
swim suit, is it  new?" I say, "That's another question from you and we've
only gone ten  feet. Try walking fifty silent feet."

Walking  in silence for a minute, then he says, "I dreamed about you last
night," and I  go, "What was I doing?" He says, "Whaddaya think we were
doing? I made a mess on  the sheets too. If you and I lived closer we'd be
lovers, not just sex buddies."  I have nothing to say to that. At the alcove
Charlie's condom lays in the sand  exactly where he threw it. We look at it, then
at each other as he pulls a  condom packet from that tiny little pocket
behind the waistband of his swim  suits. What are we suppose to put in there
anyway? Two quarters, or I  suppose a condom packet which fits perfectly.

Quickly looking around,  but there's no  one on this part of the beach to see.

Too many broken shells and stones, and  sand grass. He says, "Let's do it."

This kid got more balls than a Christmas  tree. In the alcove I try jumping
up to see if anyone is on the sidewalk  above us, but can't jump high enough
to see the street. He goes, "Nobody  can see us when we're at the back of
this fucking  alcove."

I'm smelling the back of my hand, crazily considering doing it when
Charlie pulls his swim suit down to his knees and strokes his cock, saying,
"C'mon, Dylan, we'll make it fast," as he hands me the condom. Now it's not  if
we're going to fuck, but rather who's the top. I say, "Put  that condom on
your pecker and I'll do it with you." He puts the packet between  his teeth
and reaches over and pulls my bathing suit down below my butt  cheeks, them
gets both hands behind my neck pulling my head down, saying around  the condom
packet, "You win." I take his cock in my fingers and suck it. It  tastes
like the ocean for a few seconds and then it taste like a penis should.

There's usually a hint of urine, but after that I haven't the words to describe
the taste further. Jeez, this is strangely exciting and I like that Charlie
sort  of forced me into it. As I suck on his nice looking dick mine firms up
too, so  when I straighten up my cock is fairly firm, and his is hard. Not
as hard as  it'll get, but plenty hard enough to fuck with.

Charlie seems nervous now, and I'm catching his nervousness, as he
whispers, "Turn around and I'll get us off fast." I turn around and right away
feel the nipple at the end of the condom; it's sticky with lubricant. Then the
head of his cock hits my asshole. Charlie gets his left arm around the
front of  my throat pulling my head back. He mostly imitates what I do during
sex, which makes sense since he only fucked once before meeting me. Then the
exception to doing everything my way, Charlie again uses his unorthodox
method  of constant pressure in lieu of a hump of his hips. The head of his
cock  stretches my anus slowly and painfully at first, but by continuing to
apply  forward pressure the fat head finally makes it past my sphincter muscle.

 Then, instead of hesitating a couple of seconds to enjoy the feeling of
popping  his boner's head inside my rectum, which would be a nice for both of
us, he  keeps steadily pushing his hard cock, that's getting harder a fatter
by the  second, all the way up my ass. When it's all the way in he does the
hard hump  and I go, "Aaaah, ooh." He starts moving his hips now making the
 sounds of males fucking and for the first minute it's not a lot of fun for
 me. I agree with him about the sense of urgency though, so I don't
complain, just grit my teeth.

He really gets into it, "Slap,slap,slap,slap," tightening his hold  around
my neck and pulling my head back like I did with him. He's leaning  back and
I'm up on my toes as he steadily drives his hard cock back and forth in  my
rectum. The sensation inside my ass turn from pain to ecstasy seemingly
from  one drive up my ass to the next, and now I'm doing quiet moans of sexual
pleasure trying to thrust back into his humps up my ass. My thrusting back
gets  him out of whack and his cock pulls out. There's a mutter, "Fuck,"

from Charlie  and some fumbling around and then we both go, "Ooooh, ummm," as
he slides his  boner back up inside me, and it's, "Slap,slap,slap,slap," with
neither of us  giving a shit by now if people walk down the beach and watch
us. It feels so  good we're both making whining moan and groans with the
side of Charlie's  face against the side of mine as he hugs around my throat
so tightly I can  barely breath.

It's a four minute fuck and then his crotch is tightly against my  buttocks
humping against me and moaning, then licking the side of my face. My
climax roars up on me with little advance notice and I go, "Aaaaeee," humping
and struggling in Charlie grasp with my orgasm shooting out in a tight steam
of  cum making a wet streak in the sand in front of the alcove. Charlie's
still  humping against my butt cheeks, biting my ear as my hips hump and two
more  streaks of cum shoot out of my quivering boner, the head throbbing. We
both stop  struggling and breathe deeply. The buzzing all around my groin
makes me shudder  against Charlie's body, then I feel weak, but really good. He
loosens his hold  around my throat, gasps and breaths deeply.

Letting go of me entirely now, he steps back pulling his cock from  my ass,
and says, "Jesus, that was so good! Oh shit that felt good!" I go,  "Shhh,
for chrissake. Keep it down." My ass is sticky with the lubricant from  the
condom, but he's so right, that did feel awesomely good and my body does
another little shudder thinking about it. Damn, that was a good climax. I pull
 up my swim suit and press the material in back, wiping some of the lube
off my  asshole. Charlie tosses the condom on the ground near his other one,
muttering,  "That was like a religious experience." I go, "What the fuck? A
religious  experience? This was as far from a religious experience as you can
get." He  pulls his swim suit up, "What? You didn't think that was a
special climax?" We  walk out of the alcove without even looking around. I'm like,
"Well yeah, it was  an explosive climax, but a religious experience? We'll
have to agree to disagree  on that." He grumbles, "You always need the last
word, don'cha?" I say,  "Absolutely not! But calling a fuck in broad
daylight, exposed like we were, a  religious experience is insane. That was not
anything thing like a fucking  religious experience." We walk ten feet and he
mumbles, "Yes it was. You don't  know your Bible."

We talk about the sex all the way back, agreeing that for some  reason
having sex almost out in the open like that, and in broad daylight added  to the
thrill of our climaxes. Now that we got away with it I'm glad to have had
that experience. Wow, hot climax for sure! His parents have joined the group
by  the time we get back to the chairs. They're talking about their Ocean
City visit  too and it seems everyone but Charlie had a great time yesterday.

As we're  sitting here he's looking at me way too much, and being too
obvious about it, so  I say, "I'm gonna walk down and get my feet wet," and
naturally Charlie wants to  come. As we walk I tell him, "Jesus, Charlie, don't
be so obvious. You're  staring at me like we're lovers. Your parents and
sister don't need to see  that." He goes, "We are lovers," and I go, "No, we're
not! We're sex-buddies,  how many times do I need to tell you that?" We get
back into our habit of  talking to each other tongue-in-cheek. Charlie
doesn't take many things  very seriously, but I finally agree that it was genius
of him suggesting we  fuck in the alcove.

For lunch Chubby, Ellie, Jesse, Charlie, and me are trudging  through the
sand towards the boardwalk, and on our way we pass the Moms, Rider,  and Bud,
who all look very hungover. Everyone stops and says happy birthday  to
Chubby with hugs and kisses, then my Mom, even though hungover, puts on  her
best smile and tries for an upbeat description of the wonderful time they  all
had in Atlantic City. I ask, Rider, "Did you win?" Bud says, "He didn't, but
 I did." Tris says, "Bud won about sixty dollars playing black jack, but
your mom  won five hundred dollars playing the slot machines." Mom goes, "Then
I lost most  of it getting greedy trying for more. I think those machines
are fixed." Bud  wants to move on and probably nap on the beach, as he
mumbles, "We'll tell you  guys about it tonight at dinner, and Jeff you have a
present waiting for you at  the house." Chubby goes, "Oh my God, you guys
didn't have to do that! Is it  the same as Dylan's?" They try laughing but it
probably makes their headaches  surge. Tris says, "There's one from Dee and me
too, sweetheart." Chubby goes,  "Seriously, thank you all, and to think
Dylan felt you guys probably spent all  your money on him, beings he's your
favorite." None of the four have time  for Chubby's antics. Bud says again,
"Your birthday dinner, we'll discuss it  all," and they move on. Hell, Chubby
and I know how they feel with bad hangovers  because we've been there and done
that hangover thing ourselves, and a lot of  talking is not part of the
cure.

We have cheeseburgers for a change from Mac's Pizza, and while  eating I
explain to Charlie, Jesse, and Ellie how the friend we're meeting  is my
boyfriend's brother. Charlie frowns when I mention my boyfriend. The  girls ask
some personal questions, so I manage to steer the discussion away from
Robby's brother to why Charlie was bored in Ocean City. Then, back on the beach
after lunch, I keep checking my watch as Charlie continues doing too much
staring at me, making me very uncomfortable. When he's not openly staring
he's  asking for the fifth time if he can hang out with Chubby, me, and the
Army  guys... as he puts it. I keep telling him, "We'll see, but for right now
let me  have a reunion with him." He goes, "Sure, but I hope you're not
going to fucking  ignore me the rest of the week." His father heard Charlie use
the F-bomb and his  head snap up and he gives Charlie a dirty look. Finally
at twenty minutes  of two, I say, "Chub, let's take off." The moms know
we're meeting Dodger so we  don't need to explain why we're leaving. Getting up
I run my fingers  through Charlie's long blond hair, saying, "Think about
what kind  of haircut you want, Charlie, and we'll do it tomorrow." He nods
his head  with big puppy dog eyes and I feel bad leaving him behind, but
Dodger deserves  Chubby's and my undivided attention for at least this
afternoon.

At the condo Chub and I clean ourselves up a little, then me  in the
bathroom alone using toilet paper to get as much lubricant out of my  asshole and
around my anus as I can. We change into shorts, then take the Jeep  for the
fifteen minute ride to the Beachcomber Motel where Dodger and his friend
are staying. We can't believe when the GPS voice says, "Turn here." Chubby
turns  and we see the motel down a winding driveway. We would have driven right
past it  except for the GPS.

I'm anxious to see Dodger of course, but I'm also wondering how  much of
the 'original' Dodger remains after almost sixteen months in the Army.  Robby
emailed me Monday saying he and his parents picked the boys up  at the
airport this past Sunday afternoon. Robby however didn't provide me with  much
detail, just that Dodger's seems fine and his friend seems like a pretty
regular guy, except he talks funny. Whatever that means. I didn't quiz Robby for
 details because it's a testy situation with Robby thinking Dodger's
interested  in me as more than a friend. I've never noticed that myself
especially, except  for Dodger kidding that he's going to be the one who marries me,
not Robby. It's  just Dodger's braggadocio self. He's never lacked confidence
about anything.  He's texted me only two times since getting home, not
being real  conscientious about replying to text messages, mine or anyone
else's.

We're at the motel around two-fifteen in the afternoon, parking in  the
first open spot nearest the office. No sign of Dodger so I go inside to asks
if the guys checked in already. A smiling, pleasant man taps on his computer
and  tells me they haven't checked in. The motel appears to have been around
since  the fifties, but it's had a recent renovation and isn't that bad
looking. Better  than I expected considering the relatively low nightly rate.

Chubby and I lean  against the Jeep sharing a cigarette. He says, "Dodger's
never been a slave to  punctuality," and I'm like, "Yeah, but in the Army I
assumed he'd have to be a  lot better with that, and thought it would have
rubbed off on him by now."  Finished the cigarette I flick it towards the
street but it goes straight up in  the air and I mutter, "Oops,' and watch it
comes down just missing Chubby's  head. He gives me a 'look' and I go, "It
slipped!" It's hot in the sun but I  don't see any shade as I'm glancing
around, then I see a pickup that I'm sure is  Dodger's. It's Robby's latest
hand-me-down pickup. Oh man, Robby and I fucked in  that truck about a thousand
times. It stops at a red light a block away. Bumping  Chubby's arm with the
back of my hand, I go, "There they are at the red  light."

We watch the pickup drive right past the motel and Chubby grins,
muttering, "Feebs." Chuckling, I walk up the motel's driveway to the sidewalk  next
to the road waving my arms, then watch the pickup do an illegal U-turn and
come back this way, and pass right by us again. Chubby yells, "Are they all
blind?" and we start laughing. Walking back to Chubby, I tell him, "I
couldn't  tell if there were two or three guys in the front seat, but it was
definitely  Dodger behind the wheel." This motel is set back from the street and
it's sign  isn't all that obvious from the road. As I said, we thought we
were making a  wrong turn when we turned into the entrance. Chubby goes, "Here
they come  again," and we both start laughing, imagining the fury of Dodger
by now.  Then they're again waiting at the same red light I first saw them
at. The whole  thing strikes Chubby and me as so fucking funny we're holding
onto each other  laughing our nuts off. Dodger's driving very slowly now
with cars behind him  honking horns at them. Dodger casually sticks his arm
out the window giving  everyone behind him the finger.

Then he's pointing at us. He cuts in front of the car on his right  causing
more horn blowing as he drives right by the almost blind entrance, and
with cars right behind him he has to keep going. Chubby laughs and  sputters,
"He doesn't see the entrance sign." I can't stop laughing and it's  making me
sweat, but fuck, I can just imagine how frustrated Dodger is. The  cursing
going on in that pickup must have turned the air blue by now. I  don't see
them at all for a minute, as I'm gasping now that our laughing's  winding
down, and then Dodger comes from the other direction and drives the  wrong way
up the exit-only lane, over a curb, just missing the 'one-way' sign  and he
stops with tires squealing right next to our  Jeep.

He sticks his cute head out the window, "Do either of you  hayseeds know
how to get to the Beach Comber Motel?" Chubby goes, "Um yaaa, but  ya can't
get there from here." Dodger laughs and gets out to give Chubby a hug;  then
he opens his arms, shouting, "Dylan!" and we hug with him giving my cheek a
sloppy wet kiss. Getting out of the passenger door is a very thin, tall kid
with  whitish-blond hair. Behind him is Vinnie who's frowning and acting
awkward, like  he normally does. He's a brainiac, but acts like a dufus most of
the time,  claiming he's not wasting his intelligence on the likes of us.

I've become very  fond of him. He's chewing gum looking at me until I finally
say, "Vinnie, give  me a fuckin' hug!" His frown deepens as he hesitantly
walks towards me glancing  at Dodger, who says, "Jesus Christ, Vinnie, it's
Dylan, ya nut!" I lean down a  bit and Vinnie gives me a good hug and a
sloppy wet kiss on my cheek at the same  spot Dodger did his kiss. Vinnie
mumbles, "I meant to call you for a haircut,  Dylan, but I never got around to it."

I go, "That's understandable, Vinnie, it's  only been nine months, and shit
happens." He nods his head, "Yeah, it  does."

Dodger's holding his hand out toward the tall guy, saying, "Meet my
number-two best Army bud, and my favorite North Dakota farm boy of all time,
Norman Love." He points his finger at Chubby, saying, "Norman, say hello to a
local hot-shit, Jeffrey Romero, and his older brother, the coolest dude ever,
 Dylan Newman." Norman does formal handshakes with both of us, as I'm
saying,  "Nice to meet ya, how's it going?" He uses an accent I recognize from
that old  movie, Fargo, saying, "Not so bad," in sort of a sing-song voice.

Dodger says,  "Norman will say 'not so bad' to any question you ask him. His
family's farm  could have ten feet of snow in zero degree temperature with
forty mile an hour  winds and if you ask him, 'How's the weather?' he'll say,
'Not so bad'." Norman  grins, giving Dodger the finger.

Norman's whitish-blond hair is cut like Dodger's brown hair: very  short on
the sides and back, then much too long on top combed straight back. It
looks stupid but I don't mention it. Vinnie's dark brown hair is in a stubby
ponytail, which isn't surprising considering he hasn't had a haircut since
the  last one I gave him over nine months ago. There's no question who's in
charge of  the three. Dodger says to Norman, "Check us in, Normie, and don't
take any shit  from anybody in there. We're paid-up in advance." Norman nods
his head, then  Dodger adds, "You go with him, Vinnie, in case the guy at
the desk uses any  big words." They both head for the office as Dodger says,
"It's fucking surreal  seeing you guys. Five days ago I was on an Army base
in Texas and now I'm with  the brothers from different mothers." Then he says
to me, "What's that fuzzy  haircut you got on your head called?" I shrug,
"It's a growing-out, um, sort of  an unusual buzz cut. What's your's called?"

He goes, "It's called a Milton's  five dollar special, cut by Derek Milton.

He's an E5 on the base. He gives cheap  haircuts, but he cuts it the way he
wants and he doesn't take any shit about it.  Everybody in his unit gets
the same haircut." I mumble, "Milton blows as a  barber," and Dodgers says,
"Roger that, but he's my boss." Dodger's the only guy  I know besides myself
who has a haircut fetish, and I've jokingly told him  a number of times that
I caught the fetish from  him.

Norman and Vinnie come out of the office with the key to room 106.  I go,
"Hey, that's right behind us," so Vinnie opens the door and we all go in  to
look around. It's a small room with an ancient noisy window air conditioner,
 two double beds, an old upholstered chair, and a furniture unit with a TV
on it. Under the TV are a couple of drawers in the unit for clothes.

Vinnie says, "Nice room," and Norman goes, "You betcha." Dodger says, "Actually
the room blows, but we're not gonna be in this dump except to crash." I look
in  the bathroom. It's small and the recent renovation apparently was
mainly for the  outside of the motel. Very dated bathroom fixtures and a brown
stain around the  sink's drain.

Outside again, Dodger, who's nineteen now, is regaling us with  tales of
the unfortunate incidences they experienced driving from Framingham to  here,
including a flat tire, which explains their late arrival. He makes it all
sound funny now that it's after the fact. He's almost a twin of Robby. Same
basic body-size, and except for brown hair and eyes he looks very much like
his  brother. His body's filled out a little, but he's still slim and about
an inch  taller than Robby and me. Dodger still has that boyish cute grin
with dimples,  and like his brother, his teeth are sparkling white. The
too-big t-shirt he's  wearing is drab green with the word ARMY in black letters on
the front. His arms  have nice bicep definition and just visible below his
short sleeve is a modest  tattoo about an inch and a half square. It's the
logo 'US ARMY' and under that  in smaller letter, 'relentless'. Both in
blue. His cargo shorts are  baggy and hanging below his knees, plus he's wearing
untied high-top sneakers  without socks. I see a tiny earring hole in his
left earlobe, but he's not  wearing an earring now. Dodger looks as awesome
as ever except for the silly mop  of hair on top of his head. Maybe it's an
intentional style statement, or maybe  like he inferred it's simply the
unfortunate result of an inferior barber. Ya  can't beat $5 for a haircut though,
unless I'm the barber in which case you can  keep the five dollars in your
pocket.

Vinnie doesn't have any tattoos I can see, but Norman has a  duplicate of
Dodger's on the same arm as Dodger. I wonder if Connor does  too. There's a
silver stud earring in Vinnie's left ear. His dark brown  hair is in the
stubby ponytail I mentioned, and again I could kick myself in the  ass for not
bringing my barber stuff with me to Wildwood. Vinnie hasn't grown,  he's
still five-feet, six-inches tall, and when we come out of the room we're
coincidentally standing here in the order of our heights. Vinnie's on the end,
Chubby's next to him an inch taller, I'm five-feet, ten-inches tall standing
next to Dodger who's an inch taller than me, and finally Norman who's at
least  three inches taller than Dodger.

I step in front of the others and light a cigarette so I can get a  better
look at Vinnie. He's pretty much the same as the last time I saw him.  Same
swarthy complexion with big shiny dark eyes and longish curved eyelashes
that a girl would die for. Vinnie has those hot sex lips too, and one of those
 round birth marks on his cheek; a small round dark spot contrasting with
his  smooth tan-colored skin. He looks younger then nineteen... a sexy hot
Italian  kid with a smallish body that's tight, and he's stronger than he has
a right to  be for his size. Oh yeah, the last time I saw him he had dark
peach fuzz on his  upper lip and chin, but he's clean-shaven now. When I see
Dodger and Vinnie  together I can't help thinking of the two or three times
we had ourselves uber  hot three-way sex-a-thons while smoking cigarettes
throughout the entire hot  sexy experience. So I gotta wonder if Norman's
replaced me in a three-way with  Dodger and Vinnie. They've had five days to work
something out. Of course Norman  may not even be gay.

Speaking of Norman, the first thing I noticed was his height; he's  tall
and very thin. Next thing I noticed was his whitish-blond hair because you
don't see hair that color very often. It's cut like Dodger's and looks almost
fake. Norman's not cute and not bad looking. He's what you'd call average
looking with a Scandinavian touch. To go with his whitish-blond hair he has
blue  eyes that are a little too far apart, pink skin, and a high aquiline
nose.  There's also what I'd call a touch of Asian in his facial features. He
has a  pale normal beard that he hasn't shaved for a day or two, but it's
not the  trendy quarter inch beard purposely kept that length with a beard
trimmer. I  don't suppose that's allowed for guys on active duty in the  Army.


After our initial greetings and some general bull-shitting, the  guys get
their stuff from the pickup and lug it into the room. The last item to  be
unloaded is a cooler with two six-packs of Bud beer cans on ice. We all  get
an ice cold can from the cooler and while drinking it walk around back to
the motel's small swimming pool. All of us except Norman smoke a cigarette
while  deciding what we'll do next. It's after three o'clock so the beach is an
obvious  next step, but we're trying to decide about tonight. Chubby and I
have the  family birthday dinner at eight o'clock, which means the earliest
we can hook-up  with Dodger and his boys is most likely ten o'clock. We make
plans to meet them  on the boardwalk at the 40th street amusement pier.

Before we head out for the  beach Dodger wants either me or Chubby to buy a
case of beer and a bottle of Old  Granddad bourbon for their room. It feels odd
being the guy someone depends on  to buy them booze.

They put on bathing suits and follow Chubby and me in our Jeep with  Dodger
driving his pickup. We stop at a package store a couple of blocks from  our
condo and I go in alone. The man behind the counter is shaking his head
when  I put the bottle of bourbon on the counter in front of him. He mutters,
"You  gotta be kidding me, right? Some kind of dare from your buddies, huh?"

I say,  "I've got ID." and he's nice about it, saying, "Son, please put the
bottle back  where you found it and I won't call the cops. You kids don't
realize you're  messin' with my livelihood." I pass him my license and he does
an exasperated  exhale looking at it. I say, "It's real, look," and I give
him my college  picture ID too. He goes, "Ya got anything else?" I'm like,
"What else is there?"  He rubs his hand over his face, then rings up the
bourbon and I pay him as he  tells me, "Please, in the future take your business
somewhere else. I don't  believe you're twenty-one." He gives me the change
and I stare at him trying to  think what I should say to that. It pisses me
off royally, but I don't know what  to do about it.

Back outside I get in the Jeep telling Chubby about the guy wanting  me to
take my business someplace else. He goes, "What the fuck?!" and gets out  of
the Jeep, "C'mon." Oh fuck! I tell Chubby, "It's his business, Chub; he can
 refuse to serve anyone if he wants." Chubby's heading insides so I follow
him.  He politely says, "My friend and I look young. We can't help that, but
we're  both twenty-one." He hands the guy his license and college ID. "This
package  store is a block from our house and therefore convenient. I'm
going to legally  buy a bottle of Vodka now, so call the cops and we can once
and for all settle  that we're twenty-one." He didn't say we're brothers
because our different last  names would further confuse the issue. The counter
man, and I guess owner of the  store, says, "You two are either doing a ballsy
bluff here with fake ID, or  maybe you are twenty-one." He's studying
Chubby's license shaking his head,  mumbling, "Twenty-one today no less. Jesus!"

Meanwhile I've gotten a bottle of  Vodka off the shelf and put it on the
counter." The man says, "Okay boys, ya  better be twenty-one or you'll be
spending a night in jail. As big a pain in my  ass it is, I'm calling your
bluff," and he taps on his cell  phone.

While we're waiting for the cops, Chubby says, "Tell the boys in  the
pickup not to come in. We'll only be a couple of minutes more." Chubby  doesn't
want the cop or counter man to know we're with under aged guys. I do  that
and come back in; not at all sure this is worth the trouble. Other  customers
come and go, then a cop car pulls up. The cop comes in, saying,  "What's the
problem this time, Art?" Art and the cop look alike. They confer  looking
at our licenses and asking us what our birthday are, and what's our  sign, if
you can believe that shit. Finally the cop says to Art, "Why  do you want
to turn away business, bro? Two forms of picture ID and they  even knew their
fuckin' signs, ha ha. What else do you need?" The counter guy  hands us our
ID, rings up the Vodka and Chubby pays. As the cop leaves, he says  to Art,
"Get a scanner like Kenny has. These modern licenses are really hard to
fake and a scanner verifies the legitimacy of any kind of ID." Art waves his
hand at the cop dismissively, muttering, "Whatever Kenny gets, I'm supposed
to  get? Fuck that, Mike." Chubby says, "So, you know us now, right, Art?"

and the  guys like, "Yeah, yeah, yeah," and we leave.

We get in the Jeep and Chubby waves that Dodger should follow. I'm  like,
"What the fuck? Are we going to need to go through that every time we want
to buy a beer or a bottle of booze?" He goes, "Nah, not everybody's as
paranoid  as asshole, Art." Dodger luckily finds a parking space across from our
condo.  Chubby gives the bourbon to Dodger telling him we'll get the beer
after some  beach time. We put our swimsuits on again and the five of us head
for the beach.  As we're walking the two blocks I'm in back with Dodger,
asking, "This Norman  kid, um, is he on our team?" Dodger chuckles, "Yeah,
partially, he claims to be  bisexual. He might be bi for all I know, but he's
never all that horny. We've  screwed maybe four times in the six months we've
been tight buddies." I ask,  "Did he bottom or top the times you did it?" He
goes, "Both, we're versatile,  aren't you?" I shrug, "Of course, Dodger, but
I'm in a committed relationship as  you well know." He laughs, "Yeah,
sure."

While walking onto the beach we all have something on our feet, the  sand
is probably a hundred degrees up here near the street baking in the sun all
day. Luckily the sand cools off the closer we get to the ocean. Dodger says,
 "Get this, Dylan. Rob asked me not to mess with your head with any talk
that you  and he aren't perfect for each other." I'm like, "Is that what
you're going to  do?" He says, "No, I'm not going to bad-mouth my bro, but I am
going to fuck you  a few times in the next three days." I go, "Oh, ya mean as
sort of a surrogate  for your brother?" He laughs, "NO! As your favorite
sex-buddy. And of course we  must include Vinnie once or twice." I'm like, "Oh
yeah? How 'bout good ol'  Norman?" Dodger goes, "That depends on him." Huh,
it's been slim pickings for me  so far in Wildwood, especially compared to
last summer, and I'm not disparaging  Charlie at all! I am saying that
things will definitely heat up in the sex  department with Dodger in town.

On  the beach we find everyone there so lots of introductions and
conversation  between the Barns family and the three new arrivals, and our moms and
the  fiancés. When things finally settle down the five of us, plus Charlie,
hit the  ocean. Charlie gets me aside, asking, "When can we do it again,
Dylan. You gotta  admit that alcove sex was otherworldly, and I'm free of
Tarleckie until  Friday." I go, "Be cool, Charlie. We just did it for chrissake!"

He tries  dunking me and we get tangled up and, as always, his slippery body
feels nice.  With both his arms around my neck, he whispers, "That Dodger
kid makes me  nervous." I say, "I'll try to protect you, but don't allow
yourself to be in a  situation where you're alone with him." He asks, "Really?"

and I go, "No, not  really, Dodger's awesome."

We all do some body surfing on the rougher than normal waves  left over
from yesterday's storm. Dodger floats in next to me on the same  wave, asking,
"That cute kid, what's-his-name, has a 'thing' for you, dude. Have  you
gotten around to checking him out in bed yet?" I look startled, "Who,  Charlie?
Get real! You do know there are straight guys in the world, right?" He
goes, "Yeah, and most of them are in the fucking Army as far as I can tell."

We've all had enough of the ocean for now, so everyone goes back up the beach
and either sits in chairs or lies on the beach using towels the guys
brought  along from their room. The sign in their room saying, "Absolutely no room
 towels on the beach' carrying no weight with these guys. Norman says in
his odd  accent, "This is the first time in my life I've been in an ocean." I
go, "Huh.  Hey, ya know, we should all put sun screen on, especially you,
Norman,  you're very pale." Dodger says, "Yeah, that's an excellent idea," and
he asks,  "Ya got any, Dylan?" I give Norman my bottle of SunBum sunscreen
lotion, saying,  "It's SPF 30 and water resistant." Norman says, "Okiedokie
then."

The three of them use up the rest of the bottle helping each other  reach
the hard places. I glance at the laps of their swimsuits as they do it.  None
of them spring a boner as far as I can tell. I've seen Vinnie's big cock
and Dodger's not so big one, and now I'm wondering if Norman's long feet and
long fingers, plus his tall lean body are indicative of a long slim penis.

Makes  me think of Bean's long thin penis, but I'm betting Norman's puts
Bean's to  shame. Or maybe not... ya just never know what a guy's got in his
shorts.



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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