Date: Sat, 11 Jun 2016 22:35:21 -0400
From: MGTBILL@aol.com
Subject: DYLAN'S VACATION BACK HOME Chapter  29

DYLAN'S VACATION BACK HOME



Chapter  29



by  Donny Mumford



After  dinner Charlie and I are going for one last walk on the beach. At
the  bottom of the steps he comes up with the crazy idea of staying  out all
night to watch the sun come up Saturday morning. He says he'd rather do  that
than have nightmares about that sicko photographer, Lee. Staying up  all
night is nuts of course, but he did have that horrible experience this
afternoon and I want to help him get over it, so I tell him, "Okay, but  we'll
need to stock up on some beers and maybe some whiskey." He asks, "How  much
have you had to drink today?" I'm like, "In the last four hours I've had a
total of four beers, a couple of which I didn't even finish. And oh yeah,  that
shot of tequila with you and your cousins." He says, "Yeah, well I  read
that a twelve-ounce beer has about the same alcohol content as  a
one-and-a-half-ounce shot of whiskey, and supposedly the liver  metabolizes an ounce of
alcohol an hour, so you should be sober."  I nod,  "Based on what you just
said, someone could take a shot of whiskey every hour  and a half throughout
the day and they'd basically be sober all day. That  sounds like a pipe
dream some alcoholic might have." Charlie goes, "I don't  know, I read it
online!" Ha, it must be true then!

On the  sidewalk in front of his condo I tell Charlie, "We'll go to my
place for  the beer. We just made a smooth exit from the party so we'd be
pushing  our luck trying for a second smooth exit." He says, "Definitely, I could
get hassled by my parents, or Ronny could latch onto us, or who knows
what." We  go to my condo and get a six pack of Coors cans from the refrigerator
that Charlie's carrying as we walk the two blocks to the  beach. Before
stepping onto the beach we take our sandals off and leave  them under a
bus-stop bench. I mumble, "It's a pain in the ass carrying  those things, plus it's
highly unlikely anyone will walk off with them."  Walking barefoot onto the
beach we talk about the drunkest experience we've ever  had. Charlie's was
the night he graduated high school when he threw-up twice and  slept on his
friend's bathroom floor for three hours. He was drinking vodka  and orange
juice that night. Commiserating with him, I go, "Yeah,  vodka does tend to
sneak up on you when you drink it with something like OJ and  ya can't taste
the vodka." I can't remember what my drunkest experience was so I  tell him
about Chubby and me in Wildwood two summers ago. It's almost true too  except
it was Chubby's drunkest experience rather than  mine.

I tell  him, "Well one thing's for sure, Charlie." He mutters, "What's
that," and I'm  like, "There's no way tonight is going to qualify as a drunkest
experience for either of us; not with us sharing a six pack." He says, "I
don't  want to get drunk anyway. It's my last night with you and I want to
remember  every minute of it." I glance at him, finding it hard to believe
he's serious  about that, although he seems to be. I don't know how to respond,
but I  manage to say, "Um, that's nice of you to say, Charlie, but it's a
bit of  an awkward statement, don'cha think?" He says, "No, I didn't feel
awkward."  Well, I meant awkward for me, but I leave it at that.

Walking on  the beach I make light of his silly all-night idea, asking,
"What do  you have in mind for our night on the beach, Charlie? A midnight swim
 perhaps, or a deep philosophical discussion about the meaning of life;
something like that?" He snorts a laugh, then says, "No, not really, although
we  can do both if you want. I just want to be with you." I go, "Oh, like
that  Hootie and the Blowfish song?" He chuckles, "Yeah, something like that."

Then we  walk awhile without talking, which he seems perfectly comfortable
with, but I'm  not. I say, "Let me have one of those beers." He wrestles a
can out of  its plastic loop and  passes it to me, asking, "Have you ever
wondered what it would be like having  sex with a girl? Maybe with one of my
twin cousins?" I go, "No, I can't say  that I have. How about you?" He says,
"I've thought about it, yeah. Not  with Hope or Faith though because they're
relatives. They're not  your relatives though so I wondered if you thought
about doing it  with them." I chug some beer, then say, "I'm gay, Charlie,
and therefore  I do not think of girls in that way." He asks, "Did ya ever
wonder why your gay?" I go, "However I got to be gay, whether I was born like
this, which I believe, or whether it's because of an accumulations of
experiences and a decision on my part, like some so-called experts on the topic
claim is true, the result's the same: I'm gay for certain guys, but having
sex with a female doesn't interest me one bit. No more than a committed
straight  person wants to have sex with someone of their sex."

He thinks  about that, then looks at me, saying, "You're sounding very text
book, Dylan. I  simply meant don't you ever wonder what it'd feel like?" I
mutter, "Nope,"  and he says, "I wonder, although I don't think I could pull
it off. I'd need a  boner and I'm not sure I could get one with a girl." I
go, "If she was  interested, she could get a boner on you by sucking your
dick or stroking it."  He snorts out one of his barking laughs, saying, "That
doesn't sound appealing  to me, so I guess I'm exclusive gay like you, and
for all the double-talk  reasons you said a minute ago." I'm like, "It's not
double talk. Anyway, when  did you realize you were gay? Was it a traumatic
revelation?" He shrugs,  "Well, I never went through angst like, 'Oh no! I
don't want to be gay!' Nothing like that. It was a slow process of
recognizing I wasn't  feeling what my friends were feeling about girls. And then
sometime during my  high school years I realized I was thinking of myself as gay.

Heh heh, there  wasn't any other plausible explanation for how I felt about
Jerry Hightower  other than I was sexually attracted to him. I felt
inklings of attractions to a  few guys as I was going through middle school, but I
was in lust for Jerry, so I  made the obvious conclusion."

Finishing  my beer, then littering the beach with the empty can, I light a
cigarette,  asking, "Did Jerry Hightower know how you felt?" Charlie makes a
face, "Are  you fuckin' kidding me? Of course he didn't know. I didn't tell
anyone I was gay  until almost the end of my senior year, and then I told
Martin. He refused  to believe it at first." I ask, "Does he believe it now?"

Charlie chuckles,  "Oh yeah. That summer, as a show of support, he offered
to let me suck his  cock... ha ha. When I said okay I would, he chickened out,
but we're still  best friends." I go, "Obviously your parents know. So when
did you tell  them?" He shrugs, "Some time that same summer, but I think
they knew before  I told them. I never dated, although I had friends that were
girls, just not  girlfriends. I went to my junior and senior proms with the
same girl  though. We were friends from like third grade. She never said it
out loud  but I think she knew I was gay too because she never suggested we
do  anything, um, sexy or whatever."

I tell  Charlie, "I've heard a number of stories of when a  gay guy knew,
and most are a lot like yours." He goes,  "How about your story?" I go, "Ha!

Mine is too weird; it's nothing  like a normal drawn-out gay awakening.

First of all, I never felt  I was gay; not for seventeen years anyway." He's
like, "That's hard to believe!"  I nod my head, "I know it is, but I think the
relationship I had with Chubby  confused the issue for me. We've always been
very, very tight. We did everything  together until the summer after our
junior year when we got jobs. I loved him  and we were innocently intimate,
which probably satisfied my subconscious gay  desires somewhat." He frowns,
"How intimate were you two?" I say, "Nothing we  ever did together was done
with either of us feeling we were  homosexual. We rationalized our actions as
being acceptable for the closest  best friends the world has ever seen; so
we were entitled to do what we felt  like doing. Ha ha, I know how silly that
sounds, but that's the way we felt. It  was when we were younger though,
much younger for the most part." He says, "I  saw you guys do a quick kiss one
morning." I shrug, "It's just a brotherly kiss,  not sexual in any way.

Many societies think nothing of men kissing, the same way  in America where we
think nothing of women kissing each other, which they  do all the time."

After a  minute or so, he asks, "Well, when you did eventually realize you
were gay  for real, what was that like?" I go, "It was weird, like I said.

It  happened during the last semester of my junior year. I was on the school
newspaper and the editor was this senior guy, Carl Denton, who liked me a
little  bit too much. Fat Carl, I called him behind his back. His interest in
me  developed into inappropriate touching at first. Pinching my ass or
putting his  arm across my shoulder and leaning against me when critiquing
something I wrote  for the paper; stuff like that. He basically was bullying me
while at the  same time testing what I'd let him get away with. Then, one
afternoon he  insisted I come to his house to work with him on a project for
the paper. In his  bedroom he came on to me in a dominant manner and without
much prodding I was  soon doing what he wanted. He'd kiss me, then with a
little  more prodding he got me to suck his cock, then he fucked me  and it was
like, 'BOOM!' I knew I was gay. A startling revelation, just  like that.

Carl knew I was gay before I did, so he wasn't surprised I was  easy. Not at
all surprised, and he took full advantage of my naiveté and  dominated the
shit out of me."

Charlie's  staring at me with this look of astonishment on his face,
asking, "You went to  his house that first time without a clue you were gay?" I
nod, "Yeah, and  then when I left his house I knew I was." He mutters,
"Really?" I  go, "I'm well aware it's almost impossible to believe, but it's true.

I was  incredibly clueless about sex at the time. Sure, I probably had
subconscious  sexual desires that exploded when Carl unlocked my unconscious
secret.  Within a month I thought I loved fat Carl, although in  hindsight I
know it was the sex I was in love with, not him. I still cringe  thinking about
it." Charlie yells, "Ahh, I get it now!" I'm like, "You get  what?" He's
acting annoyed, "This bull shit story of your's is all  about you making a
point, right? You told me earlier that me claiming I'm  in love with you is
actually me being in love with the sex, not  you." I go, "I honest to God
wasn't thinking about that when I told you what  happened to me, and it isn't a
bull shit story: it's factually accurate. It's  exactly what happened, but
yeah it does have some similarities to you and me.  Actually just the part
about you confusing having sex with being in love. No  real harm in that
though." He says, "Having sex with you is awesome and I  guess that's part of it,
sure, but it's not all of it. Call it puppy love  if you want, but I love
everything about you. You're so good looking and  sexy I could cream in my
jeans just looking at you. Plus, you help me  with everything and you can cut
hair and, um, you smell good too, plus you're  really nice to me. That's the
best part; how nice you are." I ask, "Did you  smoke a joint when I wasn't
looking?" He goes, "Don't make fun of me. I mean all  those things I said and
more."

We walk  for a minute, then I say, "Well, thank you for saying those nice
things,  Charlie. I'm not all those things, but thank you just the same." He
smirks,  bumping against my side, "Maybe I exaggerated a little. You're not
always nice.  You yelled at me once." I have to chuckle, then say,
"Actually, except for being  able to cut hair, you're all those things yourself,
Charlie." He goes, "I know  that! I was worried you weren't going to return the
compliments. It's like you  left me hanging out there for a minute." He
opens a can of beer and hands it to  me, asking, "What else happened with you
and the fat guy, what's-his-name?" Chuckling, I go, "It gets a  lot more
embarrassing for me the deeper into that situation I go, so I'd  rather not say."


We're at  the upside-down rowboat by now, so we both sit on it and drink
some beer.  Charlie goes, "C'mon, Dylan, tell me the embarrassing parts so I
won't feel like  the only guy who does embarrassing things." I rub my face,
mumbling, "Oooh,  fuck... I don't know. Okay, I totally acted like a pathetic
dweeb with  fat Carl." Huh, ya know, I just had a thought: considering what
happened to Charlie earlier today maybe it'll be therapeutic for him to
hear my whole story of humiliation. I tell him, "Well, first of all  Carl was
not attractive; far from it. Not at the time anyway, although a few  years
later he lost weight and his face cleared up and he was kinda hot, except  for
being a major egomaniacal prick of a mean bastard!" Charlie goes,  "Yeah,
yeah, but let me hear the embarrassing stuff." I laugh, but it's really  hard
admitting to some of the things I  did.

He goes, "C'mon, fez-up!" Shrugging, I go, "I became, um,  humiliatingly
submissive to Carl, especially after he faked losing interest in  me. Once he
got me started on gay sex, he liked making me beg him to have  sex with me.

When I'd ask him if I could come over to his  house he'd tell me to get
lost." Charlie goes, "That's it? That's this big  embarrassing confession?" I do
another uncomfortable chuckle, "Not really. The  truth is, he'd been having
his way with me whenever and  wherever he felt like it for quite a number
of weeks before he went into  the fake routine of being bored with me. That
was just one more way of showing  me he was dominant over me. He'd call me
insulting and degrading names and  I'd still grovel and humiliate myself
asking him to do it with  me, then he'd maybe let me lick his nuts or something
before fucking me all  over his bedroom. He was the only gay guy I knew at
the time, and by then I  needed the sex. Like an addict needs his drugs. Once
he  turned-on my gay sex drive it went pretty much out of control.  I'd call
him every day after school, that is until he stopped taking  my calls. Then
I'd walk like forty-five minutes to his house and knock on his  door
nagging him to fuck me, or offering to suck his cock, or whatever he  wanted. It
went like that for a couple of weeks. He had me where he wanted me  and
dominated me so badly the submissiveness kinda stuck with me  even after I was
over him."

Charlie  says, "I like being the submissive 'bottom' too, but not to the
degree  you took it with that guy. How could you let it go on so long?" I tell
him  the truth, "I was stupid! I actually believed that's the way I was
suppose to  act as an inexperienced gay kid with an older experienced sex
partner. Carl told  me right from the start that's how I should act with him,  He
called himself my sex mentor or some such shit like that. Later he  called
himself my 'master'." Charlie goes, "Okay, you walked to his house  because
he wouldn't take your calls. How often would he agree to have  sex with you
when you got there?" I go, "Like I told you, only sometimes.  The other
times I'd have to walk forty-five minutes back home with my  tail between my
legs, playing pocket ball with myself. At home I'd jerk off  pretending Carl
was fucking me. He was also having sex with his  cousin, so if he'd just done
it with his cousin he'd kick me in the ass and tell  me to stop stalking
him. Other times he'd make me run errands for him, then  I'd beg for sex and,
oh man, like I said, he'd fuck me three or four  times really hard and I'd
walk home bowlegged with his cum soaking through  the back of my pants and
running down the back of my legs. All the way home  I'd curse myself for
letting him treat me like that. I'd be disgusted with  myself and then a few days
later I'd tell myself... just one last time. Finally, I  weaned myself of him.

Mostly because summer vacation happened and I'd met  another gay guy my age
and we became boyfriends."

Squinting  his eyes, like he doesn't know whether to believe me or not, he
finally  says, "Wow, that is an embarrassing and humiliating tale. Holy
shit!  But it did have a happy ending with you finding a boyfriend when you were
 only seventeen. You're my first boyfriend and I'm twenty years old." He's
grinning at me and poking my side with his finger, muttering, "Aren't you
going to say we're not boyfriends?" I say, "Well, we're not," and  playfully
push him off the rowboat. He yells, "Hey! I've got welts on my  ass. Don't
push me on my ass or I'll tell people about you and fat Kyle." I  mutter,
"Fat Carl, not Kyle." He gets up and sits next to me again, muttering,  "I
spilled some of my beer too." I take his can and drink some, then ask  him, "So
you're claiming that nothing in your life was as embarrassing  as my story.

Nothing humiliating ever happen to you, huh? Is that what you're  saying?"

He shrugs, "Nothing remotely approaching your level  of humiliation, no." I
mess his hair, telling him, "Hey, I was  only a naive seventeen-year- old,
fer chrissakes." He goes, "I was  seventeen once myself, but I never stooped
that low," then he laughs,  bumping into my side again and putting his arm
around the back of my neck,  whispering in my ear, "I'll never tell anyone
your embarrassing story, Dylan, I  promise. No one you know anyway." I say,
"Charles, my favorite  Wildwood sex-buddy, are you saying you can't think of
anything embarrassing  or humiliating that's ever happened to you." Oh my
God, a dark red blush starts  at his neck and goes up to his forehead. He
yells, "Oh, thanks a lot for  bringing that up! I mercifully wasn't thinking
about that for a  couple of minutes. Yeah, you know my embarrassing and
humiliating experience  with Lee, the sick fuckin' pervert. I meant, other than
that,  nothing humiliating ever happened to me. I was blocking that from my
mind. And  anyway I've just been kidding around with you. No need to get mean
about it." I mumble, "Sorry, Charlie, but I wasn't being mean. Hell, my
story,  when you think about it, is much more embarrassing than yours. You were
sort of kidnapped and tied up. I was an anxious willing participant." He
nods his head, then says, "You made that story up so I wouldn't feel so bad,
didn't you?"

I wish!  Shaking my head, I'm like, "Nope, it really happened like that,
but I'm so  over it now it's not even funny! If I wasn't totally over it, I
wouldn't be  willing to share the lowest moment of my life with you." He
drinks some beer  thinking about whatever, then he says, "See, that's how nice
you are.  Telling me your most embarrassing time so I won't feel so bad about
mine.  Now I know I'm not the only dip-shit who's experienced humiliation in
 life." I go, "You and me are not the only ones who've had humiliation
happen to  us, not by a long shot. Lots of people have bad experiences. So I'm
just  telling you, from my first-hand experience, that you'll get over it
and move on. It'll takes some time but it helps that we did some payback to
the sicko who messed with you." Charlie's eyes open wide as he sputters, "He
has  my cell phone number!" I go, "Yeah, we talked about that, Charlie. The
last  thing he wants to do is bring attention to cell phones. Can you
imagine  what's on his?" Charlie takes his cellphone out and deletes Lee's number.

 Then he says, "Well, you're probably right; if he hasn't called by now, he
 probably never will." I finish Charlie's beer, then say, "If he ever does
call,  don't answer. Better yet, block his number." Charlie goes, "Oh fuck,
I just  deleted it." Sliding off the over-turned rowboat, I say, "Well if
he's stupid  enough to call you, you'll see the number on caller ID, then
block  it. C'mon lets walk some more."

During the  next hour or so we finish the six pack while walking and
talking. Then we  sit in a lifeguard stand smoking one of Charlie's joints. He
says, "Would you  tell me about that first boyfriend of your's? The one who
saved you from fat  Carl?" I tell him some of Willie's and my adventures. Then
about the  airplane ride I took with Willie going to Key West. I say, "That
day was  fucked-up from the start. Our seats weren't together on the plane
because  we missed our original flight and got the last two seats on the next
 flight. Willie was near the front of the plane and I sat in the  back with
a brother and sister. I had the middle seat but miracles do  happen and the
guy asked to switch with me so he could sit in the middle next to  his
sister, who had the window seat obviously. She had some kind of serious  phobia
about flying too. Anyway this hot looking gay brother of her's held  his
sister's hand talking soothingly to her as the plane took off. When her
medication kicked in she fell asleep, and then the guy tells me this sad story;  a
story he'd never told anyone else. It was about a childhood friend of his.

They were very close growing up, but around ninth or tenth grade his
friend drifted off into nerd status. He wore big glasses with goofy frames, plus
he had the whole nerd bit going for him with the vinyl pocket  protector
holding five or six different writing instruments, the cuffs of  his pants
were too short, white gym socks, a deep interest in Star Wars,  all that goofy
shit. Anyway their social status led them in different  directions,
different circles of friends. The thing was though, whenever the guy  on the plane
needed anything, like borrow some money or a ride some place, or  anything,
his nerdy ex-best friend was always there for him to help out.  The long and
the short of it is the guy on the plane got a text message from the  nerd
when they were both in college. His friend texted that he really  needed to
talk with him, but the plane guy didn't want to be bothered with it at  the
time. Then he discovers the kid committed suicide by hanging himself in  his
dorm room the next morning. The guy telling me the story was  crying and
holding onto me, blaming himself. His ex-best friend just wanted  someone he
loved to help him get by a rocky point in his life, but this guy  couldn't be
bothered."

Charlie  says, "Jesus, the poor kid! That's horrible. Hey, do you think
Ronny could be  someone like that. Maybe kill himself because I avoid him?" I'm
like, "Get  real! The plane guy's ex-best friend offed himself leaving a
note on  his laptop that said, 'My best friend doesn't care, so why should I?'
You and  Ronny have never been friends at all, let alone best  friends.

It's quite a different set of circumstances.  Christ, Ronny's the one calling
you 'faggot' so it's a totally different  situation." Then I add, "And,
every fucking story I tell you isn't some  secret message about you." He asks,
"Did anyone you know ever commit suicide?"  Oh fuck, I'm not telling him
about Willie trying to do just that... if he actually  did try it for real. I say,
"No, but obviously anyone committing suicide has  more problems than his
old friend not immediately returning a text message. The  guy on the plane had
a mighty big guilt complex though. You know, like The Frey  song, 'How to
Save  a Life'." Charlie nods  as he takes the last drag off the joint, then
drops the roach in the sand  and tells me a sad story about a kid from his
neighborhood who was run over by a  drunk driver, so between the two stories
we're in a bit of a downer mood. Sad  stories and pot can do that to you.

Later,  laying back on the lifeguard stand we're trying to pick out the big
dipper in  the stars, as I tell him, "There are more stars in space than
grains of sand in  all the beaches on earth." Charlie goes, "Seriously?" then
we see headlights in  the distance. I go, "Don't panic, but it's the beach
patrol intent on  harassing anyone on the beach after hours." We hop off the
life guard stand and  jog up toward the street. The beach patrol guys see us
running, but  once we're on the sidewalk there's not much they can do about
it. They don't  even slow down driving past us, but the guy in the shotgun
seat, wearing  sunglasses at night, points at us as they fly by. The Jeep's
kicking sand  up behind it. That's kind of a cool job. Cockily sitting in an
 open Jeep flying down the beach watching guys and girls scattering.

Bad-ass  beach patrol!

We sit on  a bench at another bus stop watching the beach patrol's tail
lights disappear. I  go, "We'll wait until they turn around and come past us in
the other  direction before we go back on the beach." In the meantime, a
car pulls up  on the other side of the street with two girls in their
mid-twenties getting out. Butch-looking girls. The buxom  one is wearing pajamas
and she has a high and tight flattop  haircut. I know she's a girl because
she's got watermelon size tits bobbing under her pajama top as  she walks. The
other one is short and stocky wearing guy's  military-style clothing.

Charlie snickers and mutters, "Dykes," and I go,  "Shhh, fer chrissakes, Charlie!"

The stocky one snaps her head around while the  one in pajamas grabs stocky
girl's arm, saying, "Forget about those losers,  Trey." We get a hard stare
from Trey, then she shoots us the 'finger' as they're  walking between two
double decker houses. Their place must have an entrance in  the back.

Watching  them disappear I squeeze the back of Charlie's neck, saying,
"What's wrong  with you? Getting into an altercation with girls, whether they're
dykes or  otherwise, is a no-win situation. You gonna get in a fist fight
with a girl?" He  shrugs, "How'd I know she'd have the world's best hearing?
I was talking to you,  not her. She needs to mind her own business." Shaking
my head slowly, I mutter,  "Calling them dykes is as bad as Ronny calling
you a faggot." He shrugs,  mumbling, "Yes, Mommy." Then we hear the beach
patrol's Jeep returning.  While waiting for it to fly by us, I tell Charlie the
story of Ryan and I  on our way to Georgia having an encounter with the
Dykes On Bikes Club. I  say, "It's okay if they want to call themselves dykes,
but it's not politically  correct for a non-dyke to call them dykes."  He
looks at me for a  couple of seconds, then goes, "Really?" I go, "Hey, I don't
make up the rules."  After a pause, he mumbles, "Whatever, but damn, you do
have a lot of  strange shit happening to you... dykes on bikes, huh?"

I mutter,  "I'll tell you one thing: that Jeep needs a new muffler," as it
roars by us  in the other direction. When it's taillights become tiny red
dots in the  distance, I pat Charlie's shoulder, "C'mon, let's go in for a
swim." He says, "We  already did that earlier this week. I'm tired." Oh good!

Getting up, I'm like,  "Me too. It's two o'clock in the friggin' morning so
let's pretend we saw the sun come up and  head for home." Charlie follows me
onto the beach, whining, "No, I really want  to see the sun come up."

Exasperated, I ask, "Obviously your parents think  you're in bed, right?" He goes,
"Yeah, they always go to bed before me. They  don't do a bed check if
that's what you mean." Walking aimlessly on the  beach again, Charlie says, "You
said earlier today you'd gotten even with  people who fucked with you or
Jeff. What was that like. How'd you do it."  Not wanting to regurgitate anymore
unpleasant memories, I say, "Chub and I don't  talk about that shit,
Charlie. It's not something we're proud of; it was  something we had to do. It's
in the past and best forgotten, just like the  fire-bombing we did earlier
today is best forgotten."  Then to change the subject, I go, "Tell me more
about you and that kid you  have dildo sex with." He goes, "That's over with."

I say, "Hey, we're making  conversation here. I tell you something, then you
tell me  something. Let's hear the  story."

We walk  for a bit, then he shrugs, "Okay, but I haven't even talked to
Robert for  months. We did it during our senior year. Anyway I already told
you; we put  condoms on a big dildo and he'd fuck my ass with it. What else is
there to  tell?" I'm like, "Did you cum?" He nods, "Most of the time, but
other times he'd  get tired of thrusting it in my ass, and if the dildo ever
had a spot  of shit on it, or I farted, that ended it right there." I laugh
at the  serious way he said that. Then he wistfully says, "Robert and his
scatophobia."  I'm like, "That's it? That's the whole story?" and he goes,
"Yeah, after  a while it got to be boring almost, and anyway  Robert wasn't cool
or good looking. Actually we both started feeling creepy  about it, ha ha
ha, and for good reason too. We drifted apart and stopped  texting each
other."

We walk a  little with me grinning trying to picture those two numb-nuts
with the  condom-covered dildo that Robert inspects for signs of shit. Then I
go, "So  you've had no sex, including no dildo sex, for at least a year, um,
until  this week?" He says, "That's right," then defensively adds, "And I'm
not the  only one. Most young gay guys have no sex or very little of it. I
mean, who wants to hang out in public bathrooms. I'd never lower myself to
do  that." Dodger and I fucking in the equipment room flashes past my mind,
so I go, "Nobody's talking about hanging out in bathrooms!" Charlie  hits
my shoulder, "You're one of the lucky ones, being young when you had a
steady boyfriend." I ask, "Yeah, well, when you're twenty-one will you frequent
gay bars?" He shrugs, "I suppose so. How else am I going to find a gay guy I
 like, who maybe becomes my boyfriend?" Jeez, ya know, I am lucky! I've
been  in a few gay clubs with Willie and the experiences weren't that great. I
gotta  be more attentive to Robby.

Still  curious, and for something to say, I ask, "So, Charlie, you've never
 once met a gay guy around your own age?" He shakes his head, "Nope,  just
you, but you're different from other guys I suspected might be gay.  Somehow
you seemed approachable right from the start and, um, you  seemed nice and
safe to be with too." If that's his criteria I want to ask  him how nice and
safe Lee seemed to him, but I don't wanna bring up  that sorry subject
again. Charlie adds, "I don't know exactly why  I felt so comfortable with you.

Ya know, it's hard to explain, but I've never  met anyone like you before,
that's all I can tell you." I go, "Yeah, but  what made you think I'd go
along with that nail polish foot fetish thing of  yours? And you initiated the
sex we had that first time." He looks at me,  "Um, I'm really not sure. It's
puzzling to me too because I've never  had the balls to suggest anything to
anyone before you. Maybe it was something  about the way you looked at me.

Yeah, it's your eyes, I think. Something about  your eyes when you talk to
me. Then there's the most obviously thing; I knew you  were gay because you
told my sister you were."

Then we  see the alcove ahead and both stop to gawk at it. Charlie murmurs,
"There's  our alcove." I snort out a laugh, "Duh, yeah! It's right where it
was the last time we saw it." He  asks, "Do you wanna do it? I've got a
condom, or we don't need to use it if you  don't want to." I say, "Isn't your
ass too sore?" he says, "Nope! Not that sore.  Anyway what's a little pain
when compared to getting fucked up the rear-end  by Dylan Newman?" I start to
say something, but stop because I hear a voice from  inside the alcove.

Putting my finger to my lips, like, 'Shhh', I take Charlie's  arm and pull him
backwards a little bit, then point to the street. We walk up to  the sidewalk
as I whisper, "I heard someone in the alcove." His eyes get big,  "What'd
they say?" I shrug, "I don't know, but someone's in there." He snickers,
"You don't suppose they're re-using our condoms, do you?" I can't help but
snort  out a laugh putting my hand over my mouth, then whisper, "Don't say
anything.  Let's quietly walk to  that bus-stop bench and see if we can hear
them." That's what we do and we hear  murmuring, but can't make out what's being
said.

Charlie  holds his hands out, palms up, like, what do we do now? I do the
'Shh' thing  again and drift off the sidewalk to the grass in front of the
alcove.  Peeking just over the edge I look right into the eyes of someone
looking  back at me. Lee's eyes! Backing up quickly, almost falling on my ass, I
 grab Charlie arm, pulling him, saying, "Run! It's Lee!" and we take off
running  our asses off, flying across the street away from the beach. I look
back  when we're almost at the next intersection and don't see anyone
following. We  keep running down a second block, then over one. Gasping for air,
Charlie  stops, asking, "Was he alone?" I go, "I didn't see anyone else, but
unless  he was talking to himself there was someone with him." Thinking about
it, I  mumble, "Ya know... now I'm not so sure it was the sicko. He
generally looked  like him, but why would he be there, and what a bizarre
coincidence it would be  if he was there." Charlie goes, "So, maybe it wasn't him?" I
nod, "Yeah, I  panicked a little bit because the guy had his head back
looking up  at me right in my eyes, like he was expecting someone to look down
at him.  Guess he heard us." Two block down from the alcove we walk back to
the sidewalk on the beach side of the street, glancing at the alcove. I'm
like, "This blows! In the first place, what are the chances there'd be  two
other nitwits besides us on the beach at three o'clock in the morning?"

Charlie goes, "We're not nitwits!"

Then,  after taking a few steps, he whines, "I think I cut my foot on
something."  He holds his foot up behind him and I look at it. "It's not cut,
Charlie, but running on cement sidewalks in bare feet isn't the best  idea we
ever had." I rub his foot and he laughs, "Do that some more and maybe  I'll
spring a boner." I'm messing with his toes when my peripheral vision sees
motion. Glancing out the side of my eyes I see a guy who just walked  out of
the alcove, and then another guy joins him. They stand on the beach  right
in front of it. Neither of them is Lee. I say, "Don't be obvious about it,
but look to your right." He says, "Oh yeah, but neither one is the sicko,"

and I go, "Well, it's not our sicko, but it could be another sicko."  Letting
go of his foot, I mumble, "Let's pretend we don't see them.  We'll go down
and soak your foot in the ocean. Salt water can be very  healing; I think I
read that somewhere." We saunter onto the beach and go  all the way down to
the ocean to soak Charlie's boo-boo. We're standing where  the waves'
run-off rolls up to cover our ankles before undertow draws it back to  the ocean.

Charlie says, "The water's cold, but it feels good on  my feet." The two
guys start walking towards us. I say, "Uh oh, we've got  company. Balls!"

They walk  up to us, but stop before the wave run-off can reach them, about
ten feet away.  The tall one asks me, "Hey, why'd you run off like that?" I
say, "Case of  mistaken identity. I thought you were someone else." Both
guys are approximately  my age. The tall one has light brown hair that looked
like Lee's in the  moonlight. I can see now that he doesn't look anything
like him though. He  has an average okay face, and overall he's fine. The
short redhead, on the  other hand, isn't fine. He has longish dark-red hair in
no particular style. He  grins, asking, "Do you owe money to the guy you
thought was my  main man, Teddy?" nodding at the tall guy. I shake my head, then
ask, "You guys  planning on spending the night on the beach?" He says,
"Nah, probably not  all night. We'll sleep in the car at some point. We drove
down from Philly  without reserving a room, so we'll try hooking up with
someone who has  a room." I can see this coming a mile away. He grins again, and
asks,  "Hey, do you guys have a room we could bunk in? You're brothers,
right?" I go,  "No, we're not brothers and we're staying with our families.

Leaving tomorrow,  as a matter of fact."

The  short redhead is the smiling friendly one. He has about twenty
thousand dark freckles across his squarish face. He runs his fingers though his
dark red hair getting it out of his eyes and I see the back of his  hand has
freckles on it too. He's about five foot, four inches  short and built like
a block. Not fat but big boned and squat. His friend,  Teddy, is an inch
taller than me, but thinner. He's a tall thin rail  with rounded shoulders.

They're both wearing baggy shorts, t-shirt, and  sneakers without socks.

Charlie's kind of standing a little behind me as  Freckles smiles, saying, "It's a
shame you're leaving tomorrow 'cause we could  have hooked up for the
weekend. Terry and I will probably hook up with a  room tomorrow night." I go,
"Good luck with that." Teddy says, "Quit beating  around the bush, Boone. Fuck
the room," then to Charlie and me, he asks, "Do you  two wanna fuck around
a little with us?" Boone chuckles, "Teddy likes to get to  the point without
some schmoozing first." Teddy gives Boone a look like he  should keep his
mouth shut, then he says to us, "How 'bout a  friendly four-way in the,
whatever that thing is over there," pointing  at the alcove. I'm like, "What
makes you think we'd want to fool  around, as you put it?" He points at the
alcove again, saying, "For one thing  there's a few rubbers full of jism in
there and you were checking it  out so I'm assuming one of you were about to
fill another rubber with you  dick up the other's ass. Right?" I shrug, "Not
necessarily, but  yeah we're gay. Tell me something: Do you assume every gay
guy you run into  wants to have sex with you?" He motions with his finger for
me to come to  him. Guess he doesn't want to get his sneakers wet. He goes,
"I won't know  unless I ask, will I?" Huh, he's got a point.

I give him  a 'look' and another shrug, so he goes, "Come out of the water
and  talk to us. Jesus, this isn't rocket science." Charlie stays close to
me,  sarcastically saying, "Wow, I never heard that phrase before." Freckles,
 aka Boone, smiles, saying to Teddy, "Dude, you're coming on too strong."

Then to  us, "We've got a case of beer in our hatch back, which is right
there," and he  points to a blue, late model Ford Fiesta parked at the curb.

"How about a beer?"  Charlie says, "Yeah, c'mon, how 'bout it, Dylan?" These
two don't  scare me and I'm not detecting any bad vibes from either of them;
plus, a beer  sounds pretty good, so the four of us walk toward the car. Tall
Teddy puts his  hand on Charlie's shoulder, asking, "What's your name?"

Charlie tells him, and  the guy asks, "You going to college, Charlie?" That's a
way to find out  Charlie's approximate age. Charlie fills him in about his
college  as Boone, the short redhead, bumps my arm with the back of his
freckled hand, saying, "How 'bout you?" I mumble, "Yeah, I'll be a junior  at
Merrimack college. It's in Massachusetts." He gives me his nice  smile,
asking, "You got a name? I'm Boone Boonariski." I go, "How ya doing,  I'm Dylan."

He reaches up and rubs his fingers through my hair,  asking, "Do you mind?
Nice hair, dude!" I look at him like he's from outer  space, and he says, "I
guess it was kinda queer of me to mention your hair  like I'm some kind of
a cunt, but when you've got hair like mine ya tend to be  envious of guys
with hair like yours." Boone has nice teeth, but a thick face;  he's not ugly,
but not attractive either. Great friendly smile though.  His thick neck has
creases in it, and he's got big shoulders. On the  other hand, he has a
very pleasant speaking voice and a  generally nice manner about him. In spite
of his bulk he doesn't seem  dangerous at all.

It's Teddy's hatchback. He gets in it and backs the car up a  block so it's
in front of the bus stop bench. Then Boone opens the hatch  back and takes
cans of Miller beer from a cooler. "We don't have a  fucking room for the
night, but we have cold beer," then Teddy adds, "Guess  you could say we have
our priorities straight." He takes a long swallow of beer,  then says,
"Boone and I are seniors at Temple University," and Boone adds, "This  is our
last fling in Wildwood before heading back to school. Spur of  the moment road
trip." Charlie gulps some beer and asks in his innocent way,  "Okay, so
Dylan peeked over the ledge of that alcove and you saw some  condoms, but how's
that enough to tell you that me and my boyfriend  are gay?" Teddy puts his
arm across Charlie's shoulders, saying, "Two cute  guys like you just had to
be gay." Charlie goes, "No, seriously, I'd like to  know." Boone says, "Well
it was a good guess considering the way you  two were standing close
together, and you,  Charlie-boy, were staring at Dylan with your puppy dog eyes."

Teddy  says, "Not that we blame you; your boyfriend's worth staring  at."

Charlie grins, mumbling, "You've got pretty eyes yourself,  Teddy," and that
gets him a hug, I mutter, "We're not boyfriends for one  thing. We only met
last Sunday because our condos happened to be  opposite each other, and I
never even noticed Charlie's puppy dog eyes." Charlie  gives me a 'look' as
Teddy smiles, calmly saying, "No offense intended,  Dylan, but could you
lighten-the fuck-up a tiny bit? Please. We're just being  friendly to fellow beach
bums."

Before I  can reply with some cleverly sarcastic witty come back, smiling
Boone  intercedes, asking, "Have either of you ever shotgun a can of beer?"

He  snaps open the tab on his can and takes a penknife from his pocket to
punch  a hole in the side of the can, then he holds it upside down and drains
all  twelve ounces in twenty seconds. His neck is so thick his Adam's apple
barely bobs as he gulps, gulps, gulps the whole can, then crushes it, drops
it on the ground, and does a long burp. Charlie goes, "Wow, that was cool."

I  lighten-up a tiny bit to please Teddy, and we drink two cans of beer
each  while exchanging college campus stories. Then Teddy tells Boone  to gets
out the pint bottle of Old Granddad bourbon he has in the glove
compartment. We pass that around while drinking a third can  of beer each. I'm feeling
good and mellow by now. Boone and Terry seem like  regular guys and they
tell some funny stories. They admit they're both  still in the gay closet, but
they've been active sex buddies for over  two years. Teddy says, "To show
you what good guys we are, we're gonna share  some great shit with you," and
he tells Boone to get a couple of joints out of  the spare-tire compartment.

Boone gets two joints out of a baggy and  hands them to Teddy. It's obvious
Teddy runs the show for these  two. Charlie goes, "Hot shit!" as Teddy
lights one himself, takes a drag,  then gives the other one back to Boone. Boone
and I sit on the bench smoking the  joint while Charlie and Freddy share
their joint sitting in the opened  hatchback.

None of us  does much talking as we smoke. Then Teddy says something I
don't hear that gets  Charlie giggling. Boone puts his hairy arm across my
shoulders, asking, "Is  this some good shit, or what?" I shrug, feeling
lightheaded as he squeezes my  shoulders, then leaves his arm there. Halfway done the
joint we're leaning  against one another with him taking a drag, holding in
the smoke, then holding  the joint to my lips so I can take a drag, "Hold
it in, Dylan." I mutter, "I  know how to smoke pot, Boone," then I laugh, not
really sure why. His hand rubs  over my head a couple of times, then he
pulls my head to the side of his,  saying, "You're very good looking. I was
really surprised when Teddy told me he  wanted Charlie. I would have chosen you
if I had a choice." I'm foggy,  muttering, "Teddy's the man, huh?" He
shrugs, "Yeah, I guess you could say  that. Hey, you must have a lot of
boyfriends, huh?" I shake my head, muttering,  "No! Just one." He chuckles, mumbling,
"Yeah, I'll bet," then he asks,  his voice seemingly coming from far off,
"You gonna let me fuck you later  on, Dylan?" Ooooh, I'm feeling so good. My
forehead's laying against the side  of his scratchy cheek with me too lazy
to move it. I murmur, "Um, I  guess if you want to... why the fuck not." He
squeezes me tightly against his  side, murmuring, "First though, you'll need to
give my big cock a good  sucking, right? Would you do me that gigantic
favor?" I'm squinting at the car,  not seeing Charlie or Teddy. When did they
leave? Shaking my head to clear it a  little, I sit up and stupidly point at
the car, mumbling, "Charlie and Teddy,  um..." then I notice the car bouncing
a little.

Boone  stands up pulling me up with him, using one of his big meaty hands
behind my head to do it, saying, "Huh, yeah they're already fucking in  the
back seat. Would it be okay with you if we do it on the beach?" I look at
him as my head's swimming and my visions a little blurry.  He's short and
stout and not very attractive, except he's  like this nice macho man. It was
comfortably cozy with us leaning  together there for a while on the bench, and
basically he's a good  guy, so why not. I go, "The beach? Um, do you mean
the alcove?" My slurred  speech tells me I'm hammered and stoned, but it's
not the first time I've  had sex in this condition. He says, "Yeah, whatever
that thing is," then he  says, "You're really being nice about this," and he
looks at me for a  second, then runs his fingers through my hair for the
tenth time  appearing surprised I'm okay with everything he does. I'm looking
back at  him waiting for him to decide what and where we're doing, um,
whatever. There's  a slight dizziness I'm dealing with as well. Finally I ask, "Do
you want me  to do something right now, Boone. I'm, um, ya know." He slowly
shakes his head,  grinning. Yeah, he apparently can't believe I'm this
malleable. Shrugging,  he takes a tight hold on my upper arm, and asks, "So, you
wanna do  whatever I want, huh? That's very cool of you." Tightening his
grip on my arm  he leads me onto the sand in kind of a confident manner, but I
don't think  he knows his own strength. I mean the way he's gripping my arm
and almost  pulling me with him. It causes a flicker of submissiveness to
blink across  my brain.

Huh, I don't think I was feeling submissive at all until just now.  Sure, I
was totally mellowed-out but not thinking about acting  submissive. Damn,
that little spike of submissiveness felt good though, and  Boone was
definitely in charge while we smoked the joint. He held it to my lips  most of the
time, and he had his arm around me. It didn't occur to me until  now how much
I'd like a sexy submissive sense while having sex. I mean  it's been weeks
since I last had a great submissive sexual experience. With Ryan  of course.

Stocky Boone has been so friendly and agreeable it never occurred to  me he
might be dominant. The problem with that is, I have a feeling it  never
occurred to him either. We walk down the slope with him pulling  me along and
me purposely acting docile, leaning against him  reinforcing the concept that
he's in charge. That appears to be taking him  by surprise. At least at
first, but he's gaining confidence by the second.  That happens quite often
between guys who hardly know each other.  If one sees the other letting him
lead he'll likely see how far he can push  it. Human nature I guess. Alpha dog
and all that shit.

Inside the  alcove Boone's recognizing I'm more than agreeable to following
his lead... and  like me, he's drunk and stoned too, so he says, "Walk back
a couple of  steps and get your pants down. Right over there, away from
those rubbers." He  pulls his shorts down, then steps out of them and I see he
isn't wearing  underwear. I stare at his huge limp penis. A very fat one
about seven  inches long. It's a pasty white color hanging out of, and
contrasting with,  a thick dark red pubic patch that trails up under his t-shirt.

Dark red hair  covers his thighs and calves too. His legs are like tree
trunks. I'm standing  where he told me to, just staring at him. He steps over  and
roughly pulls my shorts down without unbuttoning them first, then my
underwear. Boone seems to be quite horny, breathing noisily through his  mouth.

He rubs around my shaved groin, snickering a little; it's probably
pot-induced snickering. I'm looking at his hairy thighs curious about all that  red
hair, so with a little hesitation I run my fingers along his leg. The  hair
is a little stiff rather than being soft like most hair texture. Boone wets
his lips taking hold of the hand I touched his leg with, and he holds it
while  licking his big wide tongue across my mouth. I wipe my mouth with the
back  of my hand, muttering, "Euuu," as he strokes his cock a few  times.

It's like  he's not sure what to do next, then with a hand on each of my
shoulders he  turns me around and fondles my ass, murmuring, "Nice! Really a
primo ass," then  I go, "Aaaah!" as his finger goes in past my sphincter. He
wiggles it around,  then my back arches as he pushes the finger all the way
up my ass. His  other hand is tightly squeezing the back of my neck holding
me in place,  slightly bent over. Strong mother fucker! He finger fucks me a
few times,  then rubs my prostate and my cock starts firming up. Pulling
his finger out  he wipes it on my right butt cheek, then turns me around and
cups behind my  head pulling it down, saying, "Time to suck my cock, pretty
boy." I'm bending at  the waist until he roughly pushes me further down,
saying, "On your knees,"  and a gooey submissive trance flows deliciously over
me as my cock gets hard.  Ahh, my old friend, a submissive trance during sex.
It feels  so gooooood!

He holds  out his big slab of meat, then rubs it around my face. There's a
strong smell  coming from his crotch that's not quite BO; so I tell myself
it's a manly smell that's wafting off his nuts. His cock is actually  fatter
than Ray's, which is the only one I can think to compare it  to, although
it's not quite as long, and the head's large but not the  mushroom head like
on Ray's pecker. Still, Boone's is one of the  bigger cocks I've seen, which
makes mine seem small and that adds to my  sense of Boone being dominant.

It'd be better if he'd speak more forcefully when  he says things like, "Take
it in your mouth now, and suck me a boner." I'm  doing everything in slow
motion, feeling the marijuana in my  blood.

I  look up as  Boone's licking his lips again, then he says a little more
forcefully,  "Suck it!" then adds in a quieter voice, "I'm so fucking hot and
horny  doing this with you!" My submissive trance recedes a little hearing
that.  Taking his cock from his fingers I suck on the head as his strong
manly  scent fills my olfactory glands. He puts a hand on either side of my
head  encouraging me, "That's it! Suck on that fat head like you're in love
with  it." The tip of my tongue probes at his pee slit and he goes, "Holy
shit,"  and shuffles his feet a little while pulling my head forward sending
three  inches of the fat shaft sliding into my mouth on my tongue. The head hits
the gag reflex area of my throat and I gag so he pulls it out a little,
asking,  "Better?" I nod my head, trying to retain my submissive trance. It
helps to  strengthen my submissiveness by putting my arms around his hairy
thighs and  making slurping mouth-sounds really giving his cock a good
tongue-licking  while sucking it at the same time. Soon spit's dripping off my chin
and his cock  has firmed up pretty hard.

Continuing  to suck his ever hardening cock gets Boone's moving his body
making, "Umm,  umm," sounds, then he pulls my head forward hard and that fat
cock goes down my  throat. My Adam's apple is distended freakishly. Humping
his hips a few times as  I'm struggling to pull my head back but his firm
hold on my head prevents that,  which sends my mind deeper into submissiveness
all the way to  the docile stage. I'm limp as he murmurs, "That's right, let
me  dictate what's gonna happen. Just relax and take it." My face is hot
and  probably bright red as he humps his very hard, fat boner back and forth
in my  throat. I'm not sure if I'll climax or pass-out first. My cock is very
 hard. He finally pulls his out entirely. I'm gasping for air as he  pats
the side of my face, saying, "Nice job. You did good, and look at that
pencil dick of yours." I glance down and see my cock is really tight  and hard up
against my belly dripping precum. He laughs, then cups behind  my head
again pulling it to him, saying, "Give my balls a bath with that  talented
tongue of yours." My nose is deep in his thick pubic hairs as I lap at  the hairs
on his big, low hanging nuts. The smell isn't pleasant, but it's  turning
me on and making me stroke my hard cock. Ooooh, my submissive  trance is
strong now and I get that floating sensation while my cock throbs and  continues
dripping precum over my fist. Oooh, awesome sensations... my anus
twitching with anticipation.

Obviously Boone sees me acting more  and more submissive to him, so he acts
bossier, saying, "Get that  tongue under my nuts." Lapping near his asshole
that's covered in course red  hairs, the smell changes to a shit smell.

He's got my face plastered against his  private parts though so I can't pull
back, and anyway I couldn't be more docile  lapping away with my tongue. Then,
just like that my body stiffens and I'm  positive I'm going to climax. The
feeling peaks and I get ready to squeal, but  the sensation retreats as he
gets a finger under my chin lifting my face.  Unaware I almost shot my load,
he says, "Get behind me and give my ass a rimming  and then I'll fuck you
really good." Giving my face a little slap, he says, "Go  ahead and do what
you're told." Oh fuck, on my knees in front of him I  tighten my stomach
muscles again, scrunching my face knowing I'm going to  climax this time, but no,
it doesn't happen. Boone's looking at me like I'm  crazy as I sit back on
my ankles hardly believing I didn't  climax this time either.  But, oh it's
the dreamiest most awesome feeling being right on the verge  of climax, and
feeling so docilely submissive to this stranger. He says,  "Are you alright?
Didn't you hear what I told you to  do?"

Oh man, I  nod my heavy head and walk on my knees around behind him. First
I spread  his hard hairy butt cheeks, then lap across his hairy asshole with
him  pushing his ass back at my face, saying, "Get your nose in my crack
and your  tongue up my asshole." He has the right words but his voice is so
pleasant I  need to concentrate on the fact I'm licking a guy's asshole to
maintain this  strong trance. Wrapping my arms around his thick thighs again, I
 plaster my face against his ass and probe at his asshole with my tongue.

Very  acrid shitty taste, which in my submissive frame of mind is a turn-on
for me and I'm able to rim his ass maintaining a very submissive state of
mind. I know it's getting him hot too because he's stroking his big cock
making those moaning sounds again, "Umm, umm, ummm." It's only maybe a minute
before Boone steps away taking a deep breath, grunting, "Jesus! You're
really  good at this, ain't ya? I almost lost my load. How 'bout licking my nuts
some more while I calm down a bit." He cups behind my head again and I lick
his  hairy balls with his hard slimy cock up against my cheek, next to my
nose,  the head pushing up some hair at my forehead. Yes, my hair's growing
and I  finally have inch-and-a-quarter long bangs like a normal person might
have. A big bubble of precum drools out of his cock and drips down across
my forehead and down the side of my nose, eventually sliding over my upper
lip.

Boone's  grunting now, "Umpth, ooh, ooh man," then he grabs the back of my
neck and  pulls my head sideways until I flop onto my hands and knees.

"SMACK! SMACK!" his  big beefy hand slaps my ass. His voice has gone up a couple
of octaves when  he says, "Get that cunt of yours up!" I push my ass up so
far my knees are  off the ground. He mutters, "Yeah, like that," as he
reaches to the  ground going through his pants' pocket for a condom. Looking back,
I see  him rolling it on his engorged boner, then I glance over near the
corner  seeing the condoms Charlie left there. Boone abruptly grabs my hips
and  humps the fat head of his boner against my asshole, "Ooh!" It's so fat
though it only goes in halfway, so another thrust and it's inside  me and I'm
seeing stars of pain that quickly morphs into intense pleasure  and I
almost cum for the third time, and this time I moan from  the sexual pleasure,
"Oooh, mmmm, ooh." He mutters, "Feels good, huh?  You got a tight pussy on
you, let me tell ya. Damn, it feels good though," and  he thrust again really
opening me up back there this time. It feels like my anus  might split but in
spite of the pain, my neck stretches back with me moaning  again, "Aaaah,
oooh, ummm, feels so good." He actually chuckles, and a  third hard thrust
has his pubic hair surrounding my hole. He leans in tight  against my buttock,
humping against me a couple of times, then asking, "You  doing okay down
there." I moan, "Mmmmm, ooh." He mutters to himself, "I'll  take that as a
'yes'." and he starts fucking me hard, driving my  body forward and I'm rocking
back and forth on my  arms with each thrust. I can't help dropping back
onto my knees which  Boone doesn't approve of, "SMACK!" then, in a strangely
high pitched voice,  "Bring that pussy back up to me!"

Pushing my  ass back up so far most of my weight is on my arms. My legs are
bent,  I'm on my toes with my knees off the sandy ground again. His big fat
cock gets  moving smoothly with the lubricant from the condom, and oh man
it feels  so good having a big cock up my ass again bringing back memories of
Ryan  plowing my rectum. Boone's not shy about hammering his boner up there
 creating sizzling sensations on my prostate and unbelievable scintillating
 sensations all around the lips of my wickedly stretched asshole. My
shoulders do  a few shudders and I know right away I'm going blow my load any
second now.  I feel my orgasm building and when Boone does four
faster-than-normal  thrusts, groaning himself at the buzzing coming off his cock, my back
arches, my neck's stretching back, and my body stiff as my hips hump back  at
his thrust, then forward with cum streaming out of my stone-hard  cock
making me shake all over as I squeal, then again and one more time  with shivers
streaking all over me... now I'm limp as a dishrag. He's against  my buttocks
humping hard making a strange whining sound as I suppose he's  climaxing
and filling the condom. Some random thrusting before he  pulls his huge cock
out, swinging his arm to smack my ass again, but  he misses. It's
unbelievable how wide open I feel back there with cool air  flooding into my bowels.

My  forehead is resting on the back of my arms, my knees on the sand as  I
rock slowly to and fro breathing deeply, savoring that climax. Not  as good
as some of my better ones, but really good just the same. My asshole is  not
only gaping open, but also slimy with lube from the condom. The climax  for
both of us came on too quickly. Too bad 'cause I was really loving  being
fucked by that huge cock. I guess we both got overly aroused from the  oral
sex foreplay. He's gasping a little bit too, then mumbles,  "That was too
fast, huh?" He strips the condom off tossing it over with  Charlie's,
murmuring, "Whoa, there's something magical about your ass." I'm  feeling the last of
my climax sensations fading away when Boone says, "Fuck it,"  and mounts me
hard, bareback this time. I go, "Oooh," and he fucks my  ass hard and fast
lifting my hips so he's supporting the back half of me. My  forehead is
still resting on the back of my forearms as my body jostles limply  with each
hard thrust. He's gasping after three or four minutes and just  like that I
feel another orgasm building. I start moaning, "Oooh, ooh, don't  stop, aaah."

I'm squirming as this second climax builds and builds and,  "Aaah," as
three little shots of cum streak out and me reaching back  stroking my boner.

Boone groans and slows up as I feel drops of perspiration  drip off his face
pinging on my lower back. Setting me down on my knees  again, he backs up
pulling out his cock and does some deep breathing. Oh my God,  that was really
good, but it's left me  very shaky.

A few  seconds later Boone reaches down grabbing both my arms helping me
up. He's at  least six inches shorter than me, but twice as wide. Rubbing my
back,  he says, "We should do it again a little later, don'cha think? I
didn't cum the  second time, but I promise not to cum as fast as the first time."

He's got his  arms around me, proudly murmuring, "I wanted to give you a
second orgasm as a  way to say thanks for doing this with me." I'm dizzy from
the explosion of  sensations those two climaxes heaped on me, and I'm not
sure what  to say about him thanking me, so just shrug my shoulder as Charlie
pops  around to the front of the alcove, "Oh, there you are. I told Teddy
you'd be in  here." Then he glances at Boone's cock and goes, "Holy shit! Ha
ha, better Dylan  than me. Jesus that's a big one." Boone says, "You wanna
try it a little  latter?" Charlie goes, "Um, ah, Teddy said maybe we'd switch
or maybe we  won't. Ya know, whatever he says." Boone pulls his shorts up
and hands me  mine so I step into them just as Teddy comes around with four
cold  beers. He looks at me pulling up my shorts and says, "Oh, you shave down
there  too. Are you sure you and Charlie aren't  boyfriends?"

He hands  me a beer as Boone asks him, "Charlie shaves his pubes too?"

Teddy nods,  "Yeah, it's a good look, but a pain in the ass keeping up with it,
and  it'll get scratchy as hell if you don't shave every few days. Like I
said,  pain in the ass." Swallowing some beer, Charlie asks Boone and Teddy,
"Which one of you tops when you guys do it. I'll bet it's Teddy." Boone
goes, "Yep, that'd be Ted. He dominates my ass mostly, but a couple  minutes
ago I got off big-time dominating, Dylan. Didn't I, Dylan?" and he  gets his
hairy arm around the back of my neck pulling me against him, chest  to chest,
adding, "He was very generous letting me be the dom. I think I'll  take him
home with me." He actually is a nice hairy red bear.  Are there red bears?
Way in the back of my mind though there's this  annoying flickering beacon
of knowledge telling me the weed I smoked is  distorting my perception of,
well, everything. Without the pot most of the  interaction with Boone tonight
would never happen. It's a  persistent blipping signal that I submerge,
fooling myself that  everything we're doing is harmless, sexy, and fun. And it
is actually,  just not something I would do with Boone if I weren't stoned
and  drunk.

Boone  pulls his shirt off displaying his hair-covered torso and a tattoo
on his left  pec that reads: 'DON'T TOUCH', then he and Teddy leave their
sneakers next  to the alcove and the four of us take our beers, walking through
the sand to the  ocean. In a fog, I ask, "Do the beach patrol guys operate
all night?"  Boone, who has his arm possessively across my shoulders holding
me against his  hairy side, says, "Nah, nobody will bother us now." I can't
figure  out my mood; it's not unpleasant so much as it's odd. In my
present condition Boone's not annoying even when he reaches over with  his free
hand to run his fingers through my hair again. He's now totally  comfortable
doing whatever he feels like with me, asking, "What's your  haircut called?"

As we walk I almost stumble, but he holds me up. I go,  "It's a Ryan's
specialty haircut, but I haven't had one in weeks  now, over month at least." He
sounds shocked, "You mean your barber  cuts it shorter than this." I nod,
"Uh huh, Ryan does." He shakes his head,  muttering, "He's an asshole then."

Wading out  slowly into shallow water, I notice there's very little wave
action tonight,  it's strangely calm as Boone tells me, "Teddy's got a couple
of beach  blankets in case we end up sleeping on the beach."  Teddy jokingly
goes, "Unless we can bunk with you guys."  Charlie seriously says, "Nah, my
old man would disapprove of me bringing  homeless people home with me."

They chuckle thinking he was  joking, as Boone slides his arm from my shoulders
to around the  back of my neck, asking, "How 'bout you, Dylan? Heh heh,
have you changed your  mind about me bunking in with you tonight?" I go, "Um,
it'd be okay on  the beach, not in the condo though. Too disruptive for my
mom." Damn, that  didn't come out right. It sounded like I wanted to share a
blanket sleeping with  him on the beach. We're all standing in the ocean with
water up to our  knees now; Boone being the exception as the water's
halfway up his thighs.  I see the red longish hairs on his legs floating near the
top of the water,  and stare at them for a few seconds. Boone's serious now,
saying to me,  "Sure, Dylan. I'll let you share my blanket later when were
ready to  call it a night," and he pulls my head down to his bare hairy
chest so the  side of my face is against it while he rubs my hair, "Love this
hair of yours.  You tell that barber guy that he'll need to answer to me if he
cuts it too  short." That doesn't make much sense to me, so I mutter,
"What?" Plus, it's  really awkward scrunching down the way Boone's holding onto
me because he's  so much shorter than me. Shorter but by the feel of his body
twice as  strong.

Teddy and  Charlie are on a giggle-trip, which good pot can do to you
sometimes, but  they don't seem to be doing nearly the hugging and snuggling
Boone has us  doing. Now he's got the side of my face against his cheek and it's
scratchy. His  free hand is gently rubbing across the head of my cock
through my  shorts, and my dick's getting stiff again. I'm being very docile,
allowing  him to do whatever he wants although normally it'd be embarrassing
springing a  boner in the middle of us four. It feels good though, and I'm
starting to squirm  against him, moving the side of my face against his,
quietly moaning,  "Mmmm." Boone whispers, "You like that, huh?" I scrunch my face
reacting to the  sensations coming off my cock, but I find I'm unable to be
vocally  responsive at this particular time. Now he's using two finger
stroking my  boner sideways and the head's rubbing against my underwear. Teddy
and Charlie  aren't paying any attention to us as my hands rub across Boone's
hairy back  while grunting at the sensations coming off my latest boner. Oh
man, I  could get use to a hairy body and anyway lately I've  had kind of a
thing for hairy legs. My arm's go around the back  of his neck as I'm almost
lifting myself off the ocean floor rubbing my face  against the side of his
head. I never lost my submissive trance so the  thought of telling him to
stop never enters my mind. Then Teddy turns  around and says, "Boone, run up
to the car and get a couple joints." Boone  lets go of me, muttering, "Yeah,
sure thing, Ted," and he goes on his errand.  Teddy notices my boner
pushing out the front of my shorts now and laughs,  saying to Charlie, "Your
boyfriends having a hellava time with my boyfriend." I  want to tell him we're
not boyfriends, but instead I chuckle along with them as  they poke at my
boner with their fingers. I think Charlie handles pot better  than I do.

We're  wading around in water up to our knees, and as my boner goes down
I'm shaking my  head clearing it some, coming out of my malaise a little bit.

Charlie  puts his hand on my shoulder, asking, "Did Boone use a condom?" I
frown,  then go, "The first time, yeah, why?" and just answering the
question my  head clears-up some more. Boone had me in a delightful trance but it
appears to be drifting now. Teddy says, "Oh, lucky you, Boone did you
twice, huh?" I'm like, "Yeah, lucky me," then, all of a sudden  I'm concerned
about Charlie's sore ass, "Um, Teddy, didn't you use a  condom with Charlie?"

He shrugs, "Yeah, although I wasn't going to until he  said he had a sore ass
and we needed the lube. Hey, did you spank his ass like  that?" I look at
Charlie who does an almost imperceptible head shake 'no', but  I don't know
what the 'no' means. No, don't say I did it, or no don't tell  him about Lee.

I go, "That's our little secret," and Teddy lets that  go, saying, to
Charlie, "You didn't have any complaints about my cock up  your ass, did you,
Charlie-boy," and he gets an arm around Charlie pulling  him against his side.

Charlie goes, "Heh, heh, um, no complaints at all.  You fucked me hot and
heavy, plus I've never been fucked with a cock as  long as yours before." I
feel hurt for a second because it's like he's  saying I didn't fuck him as
good. Does pot make you paranoid I  wonder. Teddy and Charlie are messing
around a little, then  Teddy reaches down and grabs a fistful of Charlie's butt
cheeks,  pulling up, saying, "You'll be wishing it's my long cock up your ass
 once you feel Boone's up there." Charlie twists out of Teddy's grip and
they  wind up in each other's arms face to face. Teddy looks at Charlie for a
second, then they do a deep kiss that lasts a minute. I look away  feeling
a little pissed off Charlie's enjoying Teddy so much. Whatever happened  to
Charlie saying he only wanted be with me?
Boone returns with two lit joints, passing one to Teddy. I try  begging
off, but he won't let me. He shares the joint with me like he did  at the end
of the joint we had on the bench. Only here he has an arm around  the front
of me holding my back against his hairy chest, my arms pinned  to my sides.

He holds the joint to my lips, saying, "Take a deeper  drag this time, Dylan,
and hold the smoke in longer. This is damn good shit and  you're wasting
some of it." I do that, and he says, "No! Do it again and  take a deeper drag
and hold it in longer." This time, after I inhale a  bigger drag than I
intended, he puts the joint in his mouth and cups his  hand over my mouth,
pinching my nostrils together. I'm scrunched down to his  size and his face
nuzzles the side of mine as he says in an encouraging  way, "Hold it, hold it,
that's good, you can do it, hold it," and I start  struggling against his arm
as he holds me tighter, "No, hold it in. Do it for  me, hold it in," and
finally, "Okay, exhale it now," and as he takes  his hand away from my face I
gasp in air, giggling, then pull my arms from  under his and put them around
Boone's arm that's holding me across my  chest. I need to hold on to him to
keep from falling  over.

I  know I'm as high as a kite, so I'm feeling comfortable by  now being
held by Boone. As he's taking a toke off the joint I turn in  his arm and face
him, nestling in against his hairy body. He squeezes my body,  saying, "Move
your head back," and then he holds the joint between my lips,  saying,
"Hold still, Dylan! Now do this like I taught you." I take a big  inhale, and he
says, "Okay, good boy. Now hold your breath by yourself. Don't  make me
have to do it for you." I hold it until I almost faint. Exhaling and  gasping
for air he hugs me with both arms, "Good! Good boy!" His dark red bangs  drag
across my face, then his arms go around the back of my  neck again making
me scrunch down further, but I've got both arms around him  laying my
forehead against his shoulder; the stiff hairs there feeling  sexy. I'm floating,
not sure where I am. He drags off the roach, then goes,  "C'mon, you've got a
couple more coming to you," so I lift my heavy head and  take the pot like
he told me to. Exhaling and almost floating away from him, I  go back to
nestling in against Boone not even knowing who he is. I don't  even remember
the last three drags off that joint, mostly just hearing Boone's  far off
voice saying, "Hold it in, hold it in."

Finished  the joint Boone sway us side to side in the water and it's  so
nice being held and taken care of like this. Finally, as I'm swooning  and
getting hypnotized by the swaying, he says, "C'mon,  let's go up with the
other guys." I didn't even know they left. He's almost carrying me as we make
our way back to the car. He sits me on the bench, but I have no fucking idea
where I am or who I'm with. Boone gets us another beer, then sits next  to
me ruffling my hair. With my eyes half closed, I grin, then giggle for
about a minute making him join in the laughter, neither of us knowing why  we're
laughing. He rubs all over my body, saying, "Your skin is so smooth." I
feel fine without a care in the world, and it feels good being  massaged. I've
always like being touched. A few minutes later I'm at  least aware enough
to feel a spike of panic because I don't see Charlie.  Boone see my eyes
looking around and he squeezes me, murmuring, "Your  boyfriend's in the back
seat with Teddy." I see their heads and it looks  like they're just talking.

I'm supposed to be looking out for Charlie, who  actually seems to be handling
everything a lot better than I am. Maybe  he needs to look out for me.

Boone  says, "Put your arms up so I can take your shirt off." I'm still
submissive/stoned/drunk enough to do what I'm told and he pulls my  shirt off
over my head, saying, "This will be cozier, don'cha think?" I  nod my head,
but answering difficult questions like that one, or  making any decisions at
all, are simply out of the question, so I don't  bother trying. I look at
him and apparently my goofy expression is  conveying the wrong message
because he raises his eyebrows, asking,  "You ready to do it again already?" I'm
still in a thick fog so just stare  back at him, like the question was too
hard. It was actually. He's goes, "No,  it's too soon, Dylan. We'll do it
again when I say so and that'll be maybe in an  hour. Here, snuggle in against
my chest." I lay the side of my head  over like he said, nestled in the
millions of red curly hairs against his  rock hard chest. His hairy arm goes
around me, hugging me against him,  and then two of his fingers slide inside the
waistband of my shorts  rubbing my cock again as he whispers in my ear,
"I'd like my boy to maintain a  boner at all times," and he giggles making me
chuckle  too.

A couple  of minutes later my hips hump on their own as Boone leans his
lips against my  ear, again whispering, "You smell good," then he sticks his
tongue in  my ear. I guess I'm floating from the pot, not being use to it,
plus  he had me smoke most of the last one myself. I feel like I don't have a
bone in  my body laying against Boone, who's rubbing my cock and keeping my
body tight and safe against him. That damn five o'clock shadow of his  is
scratchy when he rubs his cheek against mine, but now it feels sexy.  He's
murmuring, "Open your eyes, Dylan. Don't go to sleep on me." I blink my  eyes a
few times and he puts a finger under my jaw pulling my face around,  then
kisses my cheek. I'm letting myself go, enjoying the submissiveness of
tonight and as he continues rubbing my cock I feel good all over, wondering what
we'll do next...



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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