Drummer Boys By Kevin Carson
This story is about my relationship with my friend and, well, more-than-a-jack-off buddy. Yes, it includes gay teen sex stuff. It's based on true experiences but some of the names and places have been changed for privacy. Hey, if this is illegal where you're at or if you're too young to be reading this, then you better not. Getting in trouble isn't cool. All rights reserved. No reproductions permitted without prior permission.
Thanks to everyone who has written to me. I really appreciate your comments/feedback and questions about this story. My email is: kc.drummerboy@yahoo.com.
Sincerely, Kevin.
Part 33.
Don't ask, don't tell. Right?
Haha!! Maybe.
I said I'd talk about all of this when I'm ready, and... I guess I'm ready now... to talk, that is. I need to clear some things up... one of which, for starters, is explaining about that damn bottle of scotch I accidentally found hidden in the Lamson's shed.
See, thinking about that booze was getting the better of me, and believe me, I thought about it a lot. Not as much as I thought about Mark of course, but still... a lot. It's hard to explain why I was so fascinated with it. I guess because I'd only had alcohol a few times and I sorta liked the buzz I got from it. Especially last winter when Mark and I had the shots of Jagermeister at his grandpa's mountain house. Remember that?? I know I'll never forget it!! I don't know if I got a buzz from the Jagermeister or from Mark fucking my brains out. Either way, it doesn't matter... I liked both! But if I had to pick one or the other... I'd choose...
Well anyway, during the next several days, I worked my ass off scraping, sanding and painting that porch over at the Lamson's. Plus, I kept up my mowing jobs as well, so I was plenty busy. And, on a daily basis, I also continued checking on the liquor that remained tucked away, out of sight, in their potting shed. I'd secretly dig through the toolbox to find it, and I'd hold the bottle in front of me, staring at it. More than once I had my fingers on the cap ready to twist it off. I swear, sometimes the amount in the bottle seemed to be a little less when I looked. It wasn't my imagination, because one day it was almost empty, and the next day it was full again. Obviously, someone was re-stocking the bar!
Other than the whole deal with the scotch, I didn't notice anything else too particularly unusual around the Lamson household... except one other thing: their recently-married daughter, Marcie. She was staying at their house for awhile because her husband, who's in the military, was away. I sorta thought that was weird, being newly-weds and all, but what the fuck do I know about that? I'd briefly met Marcie once before, and even though she was about 25 or 26 -- and married -- I must say she was pretty damn hot looking. Marcie sizzled, as far as older women go, and she knew it. And everyone else knew it, too.
OK, I'll go so far as to say she was drop-dead, as in gorgeous! Her days pretty much consisted of lying out in the sun, in the middle of the back yard (impeccably landscaped, thank you) wearing the skimpiest bikini ever. I'm telling you, thongs cover more skin than what Marcie had on. And seeing her like that, you can guess what I had on. (Sorry, Mark. I know you've been "affected" by a hot-looking girl once or twice in your life too!)
I'm convinced she did that to me on purpose... lying out in the middle of the yard like that, while I was working. She did it just to tease me, I know it! I won't even bother to tell you what it was like seeing her buttering up that hot bod of hers with tanning lotion. And to make matters worse, when I was mowing, she made me ask her to move. I'd be pushing the mower right towards her, and she wouldn't budge. I'd try like hell to keep straight, but I wasn't always successful. So I had to turn off the mower and ask her to please fucking move. Only I didn't say it quite like that. She'd kind-of lean up in the lounge chair, half-closing one eye and holding her hand above her brow to block the sun. Her face would be right there in my crotch. I could feel her looking at my zipper. Shit! She's ten years older than me! How embarrassing!
Word got around town fast, too, that Marcie paraded around the yard half-naked. More than half-naked, or, should I say less than half-naked? All of a sudden, all the guys were coming over to the Lamson's, inventing reasons why they needed to talk to me or ask me something. Duh... why couldn't they just call my cell phone or text me if it's that damn important??!!
Of course, Keith stopped by twice just to "see how I was doing with the mowing." Yeah, right... trying to act like he's my supervisor or something. What does he know, huh?? He's not the boss of me. He said I acted like the kid in the "Stacy's Mom" video, pushing the mower and gawking at `Marcielicious.'
"Damn, Kev... I didn't know you were interested in looking at that! I'm sorta proud of ya, Little Dude. There might be hope for you yet!"
"Shut up!! What the hell's the matter with you?? She might hear you say that!"
"So... who cares?"
"I care! I don't want her to think I'm trying to hit on her. Jesus, Keith... you're sick! She's married!"
"Oh yeah... I forgot. Like you're not!"
"OK, you can leave now, Keith, before you really piss me off..."
I admit, it was pretty funny. Keith and I both managed to crack a smile after our little banter. But luckily, his phone rang and he left before he could tease me any more.
Anyway... back to the skin show in the Lamson's backyard... even though my shithead brother compared it to that music video, I don't think it was quite like that. But like I said, it seemed like everyone I knew was hanging around for one made-up reason or another. Andy, the Kramers... everyone. Shit, even Mark came by to "say hi" to me a few times, not that I minded having him on the scene. I suppose I was a little jealous, knowing that he really wanted to get a close-up look at Marcie's tits and ass in that skimpy bikini of hers. But even so, I was really happy to see him. I wanted him close to me under any circumstances.
"God, sweetie, this is like working at a strip club! How can you stand it? You gotta be boned up all day!!!"
"Come on, Mark. My brother was giving me shit and now you! What the fuck!"
"Lighten up, sweetie... it's all good!"
"I don't know anything about strip clubs, but it IS a distraction, to say the least. Yeah, she makes me nervous. But hey, it's not like I'm ever gonna fuck her or anything. She's off limits... and waaaay too old for me. I think she's like almost 30 or something, and she's married."
"Yeah, well, she might be married, but she wants YOU, man! Have you ever seen her husband? You know he's got a pot-belly and a comb-over, what little bit of hair he has left!"
"No way!" I screamed.
"Dude, she's looking at YOU, I tell ya!"
"Get out!!"
"I know, I'm just messing with ya. I have no idea what her husband really looks like. But I bet she does... want YOU, that is!" We howled and giggled our asses off, Mark teasing me like that! There's no doubt about it, he loves to tease me. I told him that a few days ago, when I was trimming a bush, it felt like she was staring at me. Mark said that's because she wants me to trim HER bush! Eeeewwwwwww!
I turned red, not from being in the hot sun, but because of what Mark said, about Marcie "looking at me." I don't know what Mark was thinking when he said that... if he was trying to boost my ego or what. But the fact is, no girl in her right mind would ever want me. Especially one who is that much older than me... and married! Even Nora wouldn't want me. She proved that over New Year's at Sugar Valley. Remember how she laughed when that bitch in the lodge thought I was her boyfriend? I don't care, though. It's not that I think I'm all that unattractive, I just know the only person who really wants me is Mark. And sometimes I can't even figure THAT out... why he wants to be with ME. Because, at the end of the day, I'm just another Charlie Brown.
So anyway, after Mark left, it got kind-of quiet around the Lamson's that afternoon. Marcie disappeared... AFTER I had the back yard mowed and trimmed. `Mother' was nowhere to be found, probably passed out somewhere. But Mr. Lamson invited me in and offered me a Sprite, which I gladly accepted. I noticed the wedding picture of Marcie and her husband in the foyer. Pot-belly and comb-over my ass... Seriously, the dude's in the Marines! And he's built like a linebacker for the Jets! No way I'm gonna mess around with either one of them!
After my little rest period, I was cleaning up, putting away the mower, weed whacker and rake in the shed, and that's when it hit me. Now was my chance. "The Bottle!"
I was nervous as hell, more than scared, shaking and quivering as I broke out in a cold sweat, even though it was hot and humid. My hands were sweaty too, and I really had the urge to pee. In spite of all that, I knelt down on the floor of the shed, got the toolbox, found the bottle and opened it. Yeah, I knew this was a risk, but if I get caught what are they gonna do? If Mrs. Lamson finds out some of the booze is missing will she confront me, accusing me? I don't think so. Will she tell Mr. Lamson, and will he tell Dad? Probably not. And if she did, would he believe her? Honestly, she probably won't even notice, right?
Well, shaking doesn't adequately describe my condition when my slippery hands finally put that bottle to my lips. I shut my eyes tightly and tilted my head back. But in a split second, before the first drop hit my mouth, I chickened out. I don't know, I don't think it was the fear of getting caught as much as what if I liked it and drank too much. I needed to think it through.
So I stood up, got myself together, and put the cap back on, and hid the bottle back in the toolbox just like it had never been touched. I never tasted a single drop... then.
When I got home, I was still very keyed-up. I drank a Mountain Dew, and took a short nap, to calm my nerves. I was still sorta pissed at myself for not tasting that whiskey when I had the perfect chance. Damn it!! First I thought I would be disappointed in myself if I did drink some, now I'm upset with myself for not following through with it.
When I woke up I was almost as good as new. I decided not to beat myself up and to let it go for now about drinking the whiskey... or not drinking it. I figured I'd have another chance soon enough. I showered, and "primed myself" in anticipation of being alone with my boyfriend the rest of the night. Mark was on his way over after work and we were going to meet up with the Kramers and have something to eat at Chipotle. Yum!! I am soooo tired of pizza, and I didn't have the heart to ask Mark if he's sick to death of eating hot pockets, but I figured he was!
(Oh, and just a little side-bar here... FYI Chipotle is right next to Starbucks! Easy does it... I know what you're thinking!)
The summer was going easier than I expected, although I'd been so busy I really hadn't thought about it too much. We had a fun night with Matt and Scott, and even saw a few other kids we knew. Excellent weather on a summer night... everyone was out. But I was anxious to head home... because to finish off the evening, we'd be alone. Mark and me, no one else. Mmmmmm! Couldn't wait for that!
On the way home Mark told me that he'd talked to Eric and things were pretty much set for 4th of July at Fire Island. He (Mark) was basically taking care of everything. Amy and Nora were going too, so the four of us would ride together. Many of our other friends were going, too... some of them, just for the day. It was nice of Eric's hippie aunt and uncle to open up their place to a bunch of kids. Their attitude was, the more the merrier! We didn't want to take advantage of them, so we all agreed to take food, snacks and stuff to drink. Yeah, stuff to drink.
It's not that I wasn't paying attention to Mark as he was talking. But I was concentrating more on just being alone with him. I'm not anti-social, but I'd had enough of being around other people for a while.
No one was home... Dad was out, and Keith was out. It cooled down quite a bit in the evening, so the air conditioning was off and the windows were open throughout the house. And the breeze... well, it didn't feel cold, but Mark's warm skin next to mine sure did feel great. We took advantage of the empty house and wasted no time getting down to business, and down to our underwear. First out on the deck, then in the kitchen. We moved to the main steps in the foyer before finally ending up in my room.
We didn't get completely naked until Mark tackled me on my bed. It's a miracle we didn't chip our teeth. It's hard to stay lip-locked while you're playing a little rough. Not to mention laughing. I won't even begin to figure out how we got everything off. But we managed!
We rolled over, still kissing, and I got on top. I licked Mark's neck and both nipples, then swirled my tongue down his chest and tummy, and zeroed in on my target. I sucked and squeezed, pulled and probed until Mark's head jerked back and his body stiffened... And he shot that delicious hot cream right onto my face.
"Mm... uuuuhhh... mm... mm... mm... AHHHHhhhhhhh mmmmmm... ohhhhhh... Hhhhhhhhhh.... Uhhhhh... Hhhh... Hhhh... Fuck...!!!!" Mark opened his eyes and looked up, both of us smiling. "Oh God!!" he moaned.
I licked him clean, not wanting to release his pole from my mouth. "Mmmmm!" I giggled as I continued to slurp up the remaining goo, as I also tried to wipe off a blob that damn near hit my eye. "I love you, Mark."
The breeze was blowing the curtains around in my room, and it felt great with Mark's hands touching every part of my body. We eventually reversed positions, with me lying flat on my back, him leaning over me, kissing my chest and stomach. I don't know why, but it seemed Mark was sending electrical impulses from his fingertips everywhere through my body. A nibble, a lick... a kiss, a touch... I felt blue-warm. He slowly kissed my balls and felt all around my hole. He jacked me off, slowly at first, continuing to electrify me, increasing speed as we raced to the finish line. I panted and screamed, fully charged, as I blasted my load! BOOM!!!! BOOM again!!!!
"Oh oh oh oh oh uh uh uh uh Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!! FUCK!!!!!" I screamed, cried and came, all at the same time. "FUCK FUCK FUCK OHHhhhh......... Fuck!!!" I was out of breath after that. I'm sure if anyone was in the backyard they would have heard me loud and clear since the windows were open. "Kiss me, Mark... kiss me..."
After a brief rest of kissing, holding each other and cuddling, we worked our way to round 2. After that session, we quickly cleaned up, sloppily got dressed and went downstairs for something to drink. Code Red did the trick, not that we needed anything to keep us awake. No one was home, and I had a feeling no one was going to be home for a while yet. As Mark was finishing his soda, I marveled at how incredibly amazing he is, not just his looks or his charm or the sex... just... everything about him. But I needed more...
"Wanna go back upstairs?" he asked. No twisting my arm there!
"Three's the magic number," he whispered, as we hastily lost our clothes and fell back on my bed and did it again. And again.
By any measure, any time with Mark is magic. He's the charm.
I guess we fell asleep before Dad and Keith got home, in spite of drinking the Code Red, because we never heard a sound. And I'm sure we would have, with all the windows open. Maybe we were just so exhausted from so much sex we were unconscious!
We slept until forever the next morning, but eventually woke up giggling about our sore, swollen red cocks.
"You make me scream." I told Mark.
"And I love making you scream, sweetie!"
We couldn't stop smiling and laughing, shaking our heads in amazement, and took our time getting dressed. Dad was already up and had gone somewhere, Keith was still sleeping and Mark had to leave.
"I love you, Mark."
"Love you, sweetie!"
"I'll call you later..."
"I'll call you first!"
"Nuh-uh... I'm calling you now!!"
We were both smiling. But I also had a lump in my throat. Partly because Mark was leaving and partly because of that killer grin of his. Gets me every time.
After I showered and got dressed, I drank some chocolate milk, which I never do, and sat at the breakfast bar thinking... about Mark, about Townsend... and about that fucking bottle of scotch! Keith had finally gotten up, and came downstairs to get something to eat. Although we hardly spoke, I didn't think anything of it. It isn't anything unusual that he's quiet in the morning, with that blank look on his face.
As I sat there thinking, and then seeing Keith walk into the kitchen, I sort-of had a change of heart about talking about the `booze thing' with him. I decided that I'd have another go at it, and maybe try to pick his brain. Based on what he let slip out the other day, I thought there just might be a chance he'd tell me all I wanted to know. Yeah, I had tried to talk to Dad, and granted, I got a little bit of information from him, but not quite what I was looking for.
Hopefully, I could ask Keith some stuff and get answers without him turning the tables on me. It was one of those rare occasions that I felt that if I were smart... if I played my cards right... things could possibly go my way, meaning it wouldn't blow up in my face. Maybe he wouldn't use my curiosity with alcohol against me after all. Since he and I were home alone, I got up my nerve and approached him.
"So, Keith... did you really drink whiskey before?"
"You're a nosey little shit, aren't you?" (Oh God, he was irritated with me already).
"Come on, tell me. Did you find it hidden in the Lamson's shed, too?"
"I don't know... maybe. Now leave me alone, creepface." Keith shrugged his shoulders and was indifferent. `Annoyed' with me is putting it mildly. But I pressed on...
"Seriously, I know you've drank before... So, like, where did you get it? And did it really burn your throat... like you said?"
"I told you... I don't do shit like that, I've only heard about it. Now get the fuck away from me. I mean it, Kevin."
"Oh, so you've only "heard" about drinking and shit... from who??... your friends??"
"I'm not saying that. And leave my friends out of it."
"Come on, tell me, please?? You drank it before... I know you did. Didn't you?!"
"Fuck no... I don't know!! Now beat it, you fucked-up little fuck-up, before I really fuck you up!"
"No... I want to know! Why are you, like, avoiding telling me about it? I didn't think it was that big a deal."
"I didn't say it was a big deal. I just don't want you bugging me about it." God, he was so defensive and edgy.
"Tell me how you really feel... Jeez, I'm not bugging you. But I know you've not only drank before, you've done other stuff too. All kinds of stuff... don't deny it."
"Oh yeah? Like what `other stuff'?"
"Well... like sex. Look at all the sex you have! Wild sex, I bet!!" I giggled when I said that, but Keith didn't seem to think it was all too funny.
"Umm, I think you sorta got me beat in that department." he said sarcastically. I can't believe my brother conceded that!
"Uhh, yeah, well, maybe so, but you know what I mean. And I know there's other things..."
"Oh yeah, Mr. Know-it-all? Other things? You don't know shit about shit, you fucked-up little shit."
"Yeah, well... I know you smoked pot before. You even got your own weed bag!" Keith flipped out when I said that.
"You fucking little piece of shit!! You went through my things, didn't you? God damn it!! What were you doing looking through my stuff?? I swear, Kevin, stay the fuck out of my room! And stay out of my sock drawer... you got your own fucking socks! You've got no business going through my shit," Keith screamed at me. "Jesus fuck, now what am I gonna do??? WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!"
"You mean you really DO have a bag of weed? Damn!!! And you keep it in your sock drawer, huh? Wow!!"
"You fucking little asshole, you better not tell Dad... I mean it, Kevin, you better not. You breathe one word about this to him, you little cocksucker, and you're dead meat!"
"What?? Let me get this right. You mean it's OK for YOU to keep this from Dad... to actually lie to him about something you don't want him to know... something illegal, by the way... But not ME?? I'm not supposed to keep anything from him?? I have to tell-all... tell him personal things about me... stuff that's so private... is that what you're saying? Because, that's bullshit, Keith. Bullshit!"
"No!! Yes!! I mean, NO!!! FUCK!!! What you had to tell Dad about is completely different than this."
"Different?? How's it different? Tell me. Uh, yeah... newsflash having a boyfriend isn't against the law! THAT'S how it's different, you stupid fuck." Now I was really pissed off. "So what is this? We have different rules? Is that it? You can keep your dirty little secret from Dad and that's alright? But I can't? How convenient. You said I had to tell Dad about Mark and me because he shouldn't have to hear about it from someone else... well, what if somebody finds out about you having a bag of dope and they tell him, or if you get busted or whatever, it's all the same. Can't you see that? You're the one who's fucked-up, Keith, not me. I mean it... you're the one who's fucked-up! And I mean... FUCKED-UP!!"
"GOD!!!" Keith was outraged at me. "Get real Kevin. You think I'm gonna come right out and tell Dad I've got illegal substances, like it's no big deal? Well FUCK YOU!!"
"FUCK YOU!!!" I shouted back.
"I MEAN IT, KEVIN. DON'T FUCK WITH ME. I'M NOT THE DUDE YOU WANNA FUCK WITH!!" I was scared Keith was going to hit me. "I OUGHTA KICK YOUR ASS!!"
"Leave me alone Keith, you know I'm right. But if you wanna kick my ass, go ahead. If you think you're so big and brave."
"You act like I'm some kind of hypocrite or something."
"Well HELLO!! You ARE a hypocrite! AND YOU'RE AN ASSHOLE!" I screamed back. "Having that... that... shit in here... It's... disrespecting our house!!"
"Oh, and Mark giving it to you up the ass right there in your bedroom ISN'T disrespecting our house?? Jesus, Kevin, is there anywhere in this house you two haven't done it'?" I burst into tears when my brother said that to me. It was mean. It was cold. It was degrading. I could deal with just about anything else. But how dare he bring Mark into this? And the thing about doing it' everywhere in the house... I hope we didn't leave any evidence laying around from last night.
"I HATE YOU!!!!!!" I screamed at Keith. I was shaking, and really, really hurt by that remark.
"Kevin, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that, really, I didn't mean it, I take it back..."Keith turned pale after making that horrible comment, then apologizing.
"No problem..." I mumbled, trying to look past Keith's majorly fucked-up comment.
"I'm really sorry..."
I wondered to myself how in the world this conversation, which started out all in fun on my part, really, had gotten to this point. But his words did some damage... major collateral damage in fact. This whole fucking thing was a disaster. I should have never opened my mouth. All because of a fucking bottle of whiskey.
"Alright... OK... don't worry, I won't tell, I promise." After seeing Keith so angry and sorta threatening me, I had no choice but to back down, for the time being. My brother is a little bit bigger and a lot stronger than me, and even though he's not violent, I wasn't taking any chances. It would have been bad if he'd have punched me. It's just not worth it. He IS the last person I'd want to get in a fight with. The last time I saw him this fierce was when he rescued me from Emily's meat hooks. And he was on MY side that day.
Keith calmed down a little but I could tell he was still pretty angry, I think more with himself than with me. "Do you mean it, you won't tell?"
"Jesus, Keith, I said I wouldn't, OK?" At that moment I could have used a big gulp of that scotch whiskey to calm my nerves. Better still, I could have used a big gulp of Mark. I had to gather my thoughts about all of this, I was so upset, but trying not to show it. So I went to my room and shut the door. Fighting back tears, I told myself to get a grip and I got my brave on.
I love my brother, I really do, unconditionally. I have to, there's no other choice. Even after that stab-in-the-heart remark about me... how did he put it... "taking it up the ass." What a thing to say. Fuck, the dude has issues, wouldn't you say? And I do admit to having those lingering, angry feelings... I guess, holding a grudge. But at some point I know I'll have to forgive him. I have to... because... there's no other choice.
And it did sting a bit, too, when he called me a little cocksucker, although that's also the truth. Except, there's only one cock I suck, and it's not very little! And now that I know about my brother's little stash hidden away in his sock drawer, I have something to hold over his head.
I wasn't going to let the fight with Keith ruin my day. I was almost done with painting the Lamson's porch and wanted to finish it. The railings and the first coat on the floor were all done, and I just needed to do the final coat. One more day ought to do it, and today was gonna be the day. For more than just the painting!
When I got there, Mr. Lamson was in a really good mood and told me the porch was all mine, and that the "girls" had gone shopping and didn't know when they'd be home. So I got right to it and completed the task in just a couple of hours. I did a pretty good job, if I do say so myself. I told Mr. Lamson when I was done and he seemed really pleased with my work as well.
"Fine job, Kevin! You're a good little painter. Looks like your brother has taught you well!"
"Thanks, Mr. Lamson." I didn't let on that that pissed me off, saying Keith taught me how to paint. He didn't teach me shit.
"I'll have more work for you, too... a bedroom we want to re-do, and I promise it won't be as hard as this old porch has been."
"Great! Well, I just gotta clean the brushes and put everything away, and I'll be going."
"OK! I'll bring a check out to you in the shed," he said. Excellent! I couldn't wait to get paid. It seemed the more money I earned this summer, the more I wanted to make. The cash was really piling up!
I was finishing up, and Mr. Lamson did what he said... he brought me my pay and then disappeared. I folded the ckeck and stuck it in my pocket. We were leaving for Fire Island the next day around noon, so Mark and I timed it that we'd both be back at my house by five, after he was done working. We'd get cleaned up (together), eat (each other), then... sleep! TOGETHER!!!!
But before I left the Lamson's, I also had other unfinished business to tend to there in the shed. I was excited. I was brave. My heart was pounding... everything was going great this time! The coast was clear, and I knew right where to get the scotch. In all of two seconds I had that fucking bottle in my hands, the cap off and my lips on the opening. I threw my head back and felt that golden burning liquid trickling into my mouth, but I didn't care.
Oh My God!!! Keith was right! It felt like my throat was on fire, but I swallowed a big gulp of it before I had a chance to even think about spitting it out. I didn't really like the taste of it, but after that first sampling, the few smaller sips I took didn't seem to burn my throat as much.
I blinked, like 8 times, and shook my head. I knew I wasn't immediately drunk or anything, but I was feeling some kind of effect from something. I guess the combination of not really having had much to eat, plus nerves and the alcohol, I was maybe a little dizzy. I put my hand out to brace myself against the mower, but it rolled away from me, making me almost lose my balance for sure. But luckily, I didn't fall. And I didn't drop the bottle of scotch. I was clutching it close to my chest, with my eyes closed, only to open them wide, in shocking surprise, as I heard...
"There's more where that came from!"
"Ughhhhhhh...!!!!"
(To be continued...)