DYLAN'S GEORGIA VACATION
Chapter 3
by Donny Mumford
It looks like we'll be spending our second night at a Days Inn. This motel is in West Virginia, and looking at it from the outside it appears to be on the same luxury level as the Motel 6 we stayed at last night. That would be a level above the Bates Motel. Nah, it's not that bad, it's fine. The thing is I'm thinking about road trips with Willie Worthington and he'd never come near either of these first two inexpensive motels, but like I said they suit me fine, and that's especially true because I've only got three hundred dollars left in my debit account. That's what's left from the money I earned last summer. When Ryan first started talking about this trip he alluded to us staying at nice hotels, and he also alluded once or twice that he'd pick up the expense. That's when he wasn't sure I'd agree to spend ten weeks this summer with him. It was also before he went home for spring break and talked to his parents about his plans. His parents reluctantly are going along with the basic part, which is me staying with them, but they did considerable alterations to other aspects of Ryan's original plans, some of which I'm sure I haven't heard about yet. So, I expect more surprises, and not the pleasant kind. Or maybe I'm wrong.
The money thing isn't important though. What is important at the moment is Ryan's claim that I'm in love with him and that I'll soon realize it myself. Obviously that's not going to happen, so it could develop into a very awkward situation. Ryan's talked himself into believing I fell in love with him during the last semester and he claims without 'outside influences' clouding my thinking I'll realize we're in love. I'm taking a wild guess and assuming the 'outside influences' he's referring to is in the person of one Rob Dickers. I suppose I should be annoyed at Ryan's presumption, but mostly I feel sorry for him. As is true for a number of my friends, I love Ryan as a friend, but I'm very far from being 'in love' with him, or any of the others. That's not going to change no matter if Ryan and I spend ten weeks or ten months together. Ryan believing I've changed my mind about being in love with Robby is the same thinking that has him convinced his parents dote on him. I won't, and they don't. Meaning I won't fall in love with him, and his parents don't dote on him. Not from everything he's told me anyhow. I'm just not sure that it should be my responsibility to enlighten him about these matters. If his rationalizations, or fantasies, or whatever they are make him happy, maybe I shouldn't ruin it for him. I didn't really expect I'd need to deal with Ryan's relationship with his parents, or correct his misconceptions about him and me, but if not me, then who?
Glancing at him as he's parking the Mini at the motel, he's smiling and humming and feeling good about himself. Balls, I hate raining on his, or anybody else's, parade. Taking a deep breath I'm realizing I don't know what to do. My first thought is to call Chubby and ask him, except I'm supposed to be trying to handle things myself. Yeah well, that's become my objective since realizing I'd painted myself into a corner and couldn't get out of this Georgia situation. Circumstances developed, kinda on their own, compelling me to follow through with this trip, but I'm not rehashing those factors again. I've been over them in my head enough times already. I need to think of a way to convince Ryan I'm not in love with him, but without hurting his feelings, and the sooner I can do that the better. His relationship with his parents is something to maybe concern myself with at some time later. And that goes for my personal concerns about me and his parents, and me living in their house. Ya know what? Dealing with problems on my own blows, that's what.
We've checked in at the office and we're now in our room with Ryan unpacking his suitcase and distributing his clothes into bureau drawers. Watching him I'm thinking, 'What a waste of time that is!' He'll have to repack everything in the morning. I leave my clothes in the duffle bag, taking out only what I'll need tonight. Of course that means my $3000 suit is crammed in the bottom and will need to be pressed before I can wear it. Well, what the fuck, I guess everything in my duffle bag will need to be ironed before wearing it. Big deal, so I'll iron what I need. Hey, maybe I'll asked Mrs. Wilcox to iron all my stuff for me. Ha ha, fat fucking chance! When Ryan's done unpacking we go outside and wander around smoking cigarettes and getting the kinks out of our bodies. Sitting seven hours in a car, traveling seventy to eighty miles an hour isn't what I consider relaxing. Huh, it's kinda funny that Ryan's parents wouldn't pay for the Mini Cooper to be delivered back to Georgia when they had no problem paying for it to be delivered to Merrimack. I may be paranoid, but I can't help but wonder if that has anything to do with Ryan bringing home moi as a house guest for the summer. Flying would cost me less than this road trip, but not his parents obviously... shipping a car eleven hundred miles is probably expensive.
After walking around the entire Days Inn we're back where we started, so we lean against the Coke machine that's next to our room and smoke a second cigarette. Ryan's in an especially good mood, even admitting that driving faster is less stressful than driving the speed limit. I shrug, "Yeah, that's because we're more or less in the flow of traffic rather than being conspicuously slower than all the other cars. Driving too slowly on a high-speed highway is as dangerous as driving too fast," He says, "Yeah, I agree with you. See, I learned something from you, Dylan. We're actually a pretty damn good team, aren't we?" I make a noncommittal half head nod, half shrug. Back inside the room we wash up in the bathroom, then Ryan gets a mischievous grin on his face, saying, "Time for you to strip, Dylan boy. Your pussy needs a workout." I hesitate, thinking this is as good a time as any to correct his misconception about us being in love. Dealing with it now puts the problem in the past, putting it off means it's a problem for the future. I don't want it hanging over my head and it's simply wrong of me to ignore his misconception, that reinforces in his mind that he's right. Ryan sees I'm just standing here, so he quietly asks, "What's wrong, Dylan? I said you need to get undressed now and you're... um..." Blowing out my cheeks, I go, "First there's something I need to talk with you about, Ryan." He waves his hand at me, "I knew it! I fucked up, didn't I? Got ahead of myself a little bit about you being in love with me. You were trying to tell me that when you didn't confirm it, right?" I shrug, "Um, yeah, that's pretty much it. I do love you, that part's true, but..." He interrupts, "It's not the same thing, I know. You love me like a friend, blah, blah, blah." I quietly says, "That's nothing to be flip about, Ryan." He goes, "I know, forgive me for projecting my wishes onto you, Dylan." I do a full shrug this time, kinda feeling embarrassed for him. Ryan nods his head, mumbling, "You're nice for not making fun of my premature assumption. Most guys would have mocked me." I go, "No they wouldn't, nobody would mock you about something like that. It's, um, flattering you care about that so much, or care about me like that. You have to admit though, I've always told you I love Rob, right? I've been up front about that always." He nods his head, "Yes, and I appreciate your honesty. I guess I'm privileged to be one of your fuck buddies, Dylan. I'm grateful for that at least." I go, "Ah, come on, Ryan! Don't get all dramatic on me, and don't degrade what we've got. We're the best fuck buddies of all time. Don't make that seem less than it is."
Ryan's sitting on the edge of the bed smelling the back of his wrist, apparently thinking about a way of saving some face. I'm sitting in the only chair in the room trying not to grin about him picking-up my habit, then he asks, "Can we forget I ever said all that dumb stuff?" I smile then, and with a fake confused look on my face, ask, "Forget about what dumb stuff?" He grins back at me, "I can't remember either." And trying to help him move past this, I'm like, "Hey, you haven't rubbed my awesome haircut for awhile now, what's up with that?" With half a grin on his face, he gets up and comes over to me and rubs my head, muttering, "Nice haircut, dude," and I go, "That's right, it is... and so is yours." His upper teeth scrap his bottom lip as he does a full grin and slowly sits on my lap facing me, a leg on either side of mine. His feet are two inches off the floor as he leans into me for a kiss, then another one with him murmuring, "Thanks, Dylan." I hug him and we get into a hot make-out with both of us standing up as slowly as he sat down. We're clinging to one another kissing and licking for five minutes or so. Then we break off the kissing, but keep our arms around each other hugging with the side of our faces together, both of us catching our breath. His boner pokes my leg through his jeans, and mine pokes his groin, just below his belt. Panting with arousal, and hoping to sooth any hurt feelings he may have, I put my lips on his ear, murmuring, "My pussy feels okay now, Ryan." We let go of each other and quickly shed our clothes, dropping them on the floor all around us, then hug each other's naked body with our boners between our bellies.
We're quickly into a uber hot sexual encounter with Ryan turning me around and fucking me standing up, sans lube this time. Grunting with the effort he fucks me hard and fast, both his arms around my waist, my back sweaty against his chest as he thrust his boner back and forth in my rectum, each hard thrust bumps my hips out a little. I'm limp in his arms as Ryan hammers his cock inside me, both of us moaning at the sizzling sensations of this hot desperate sexual act. My rectum was a little sore to start with and sorer by the time my back arches and I squeal at the fantastic climax Ryan fucks out of me. My cum streams out a good three feet before dropping to the carpet. Ryan blows a huge load up my ass, then pulls his cock out and turns me around facing him. A sexy wet kiss and then his hand's at the back of my head pulling lightly. I bend over and take his cock, sloppy with spunk, in my mouth sucking and licking it for quite awhile until I find myself in a submissive trance, then I slowly sink to my knees wrapping my arms around his ass with the head of his cock at the back of my throat. Ryan's rubbing my head with me really get into sucking and licking his cock and balls now. The more I suck his cock the harder mine gets. Ryan gasps with arousal and begins a roughly deep throating me with my head way back, and when he pulls his cock out of my throat, then out of my mouth and a string of new precum connects his cock's pee-slit to my lips. The string breaks drifting down wetly against my chin. Ryan turns around and bends over, his ass in my face. I spread his butt cheeks and lick along his ass crack right over his asshole, then again before sucking and lapping at his anus. When my tongue in up his ass a half inch or so I feel my follow-up orgasm building. Thirty seconds later, with a submissive moan from my throat and my tongue on his anus, my hips hump and out shoots a short stream of cum between Ryan's legs, then two shorter ones leaving me quivering with sexual sensations that circle all around my groin area, buzzing with sexual pleasure.
My mouth comes off his asshole, me gasping at that little second orgasm. Ryan turn around again and I suck his cock again while he humps his hips gasping along with me. He's holding my head between his hands as he whines at his impending orgasm, he does two hip humps shooting three short blast of cum into my mouth, one of the cum shots hits the back of my throat gagging me for a second. A couple more hip thrust, then he pulls his softening cock out and slowly sits down on the floor next to me, sighing contentedly. We lean against one another breathing hard. More noisy breathing for thirty seconds or so, then Ryan takes my hand and stands, pulling me up. We grin at each other without saying anything while walking to the bed. After pulling back the bedspread we lay together on the sheets in each other arms. It's cozy and I'm feeling very relaxed and sexually satisfied, Ryan too apparently as shortly we both fall asleep. I don't know how long we nap, but when I wake-up it's dark outside the window and Ryan's still sleeping. There was emotion involved in discussing the ticklish subject of love, then we had our double-orgasm sexual experience which can tire a person out. Add to that seven and a half hours of high speed driving and it all adds up to... a nap. The second one for me today. I run my fingers through Ryan's hair, he opens his eyes and we do a little smile at each other. It looks like he's fine so I give him a kiss hoping our earlier discussion doesn't make things awkward between us. Neither of us mentions it as we lay here talking quietly, feeling too lazy for dinner just yet. We're talking about the drive so far and about some of the crazy drivers we encountered along the way. Somehow we get on the topic of cars and I find out Ryan has a motorbike. It was a Christmas present a Christmas ago. The motorbike was going to be a surprise for me and it gets me thinking about riding behind Sunny on his motorbike and I gotta admit I'm looking forward to riding Ryan's death-trap-on-wheels myself. Later I discover his father drives a BMW and his mother a Lexus, but he doesn't know the model of either one. I don't know cars either, but there are guys at college who know every model of every make going back forty years.
Laying here with Ryan I'm kinda feeling proud of myself for bringing up that awkward lovers misconception subject earlier, but at the same time I gotta admit Ryan recognized his mistake almost immediately. That made the whole dicey situation easier than I expected. I'm glad it's behind us because other than that the rest of our trip has been kinda cool. It's a nice feeling being on our own during this road trip, especially without me needing to worry about much of anything. Ryan's in charge and he has everything planned out and I'm more or less going along for the ride. At least until we get where we're going, and then the challenge of meeting the Wilcox parental unit needs to be dealt with somehow. From what I surmises from the little things Ryan's said, an open-arms welcome seems out of the question. Now I'm hoping for at least a neutral welcome as opposed to an uncomfortable subtly hostile one. It's actually too soon to be worried about that shit though. We've still got two-plus days of driving ahead of us. The sex has been special too, and I'm looking forward to more of that. What the hell, generally speaking we're getting along wonderfully. No more problems as far as I can see, and Ryan seems very happy about everything too. Out trip's been about as good as could be expected I guess, so I think Ryan and I will be fine together the next ten weeks.
We're cleaning ourselves up a little, getting ready to go out for a late dinner. Ryan's drying his hands and face, saying, "We're within seven hundred miles of home, Dylan, so call me Albert all the time now, okay? It's stupid, but kinda important to me so I'd really appreciate your cooperation with the name thing." I'm like, "Sure, Albert. Where we eating dinner?" He shrugs, "I'm gonna check my cellphone and see what's around here." And that's what he does. The closest restaurant is a Burger King, so he chooses that. Using my iPhone as a GPS I give Ryan directions. Personally I'd prefer a real restaurant with a waiter taking our order and so forth, but Ryan's in charge so it's going to be fast food tonight. Willie's definitely spoiled me for any serious traveling. Everything's top-shelf with him and I sort of got used to that and took it for granted. This is the real world though, so it's diners and Burger King for Ryan and me. In less then ten minutes we're at a stop sign across the street from the Burger King restaurant. We exchange frowns though because the parking lot is full of big motorcycles and there are a number of individuals wearing black motorcycle type clothing lurking among the bikes. We gawk at them, then look at each other again, with Ryan asking, "Hell's Angels?" I shrug, mumbling, "I don't know," and he says, "I'll park here,"and he backs the Mini up, parking it at the curb. It's warm enough that we had the top down, but Ryan says, "To be safe I'm putting the top up before locking the car." The top goes up, we get out, and he locks the Mini, saying, "We'll walk over to scope the situation out, Dylan. Lets do that a block down from Burger King and the Hell's Angels, or whoever they are." I'm like, "Roger that, Albert. If it looks like trouble we'll just go someplace else." We light cigarettes to show what bad-asses we are, then saunter across the street with both of us smelling the back of our wrist. That makes me laugh because we both must look freaky with the back of our hands to our face. When I laugh out loud Ryan gives me a stern look, "Don't draw attention to us." We cross the street twenty or thirty feet down from Burger King looking back at the motorcycles and the rough-looking trade milling around them.
Standing on the Burger King side of the street half a block away it's quickly apparent that no one's paying any attention to us. Then a mannish-looking woman comes out of the fast food joint and shouts to someone in the parking lot. She must be one of the motorcycle gang's girlfriend, although not a young one and she doesn't look much like a girl. She's oldish looking with her gray hair cut in a flat-top, and she's dressed like a biker guy. She's carrying her helmet in one hand while finishing a burger in the other. Very un-lady-like, she gobbles down half a burger then wipes across her lips with her thumb and forefinger, then wipes her fingers on her jeans. After lighting a cigarette, she leans against the railing outside the front door like she's waiting for somebody. We're smoking our cigarettes and evaluating the situation, as Ryan quietly asks, "Whaddaya think, Dylan, should we go in past her/him or whatever it is?" I say, "I don't know, she's obviously a fairly large bull dyke, so..." and Ryan laughs putting his hand over his mouth so she doesn't hear him. I'm grinning at him wondering what's so funny, then he says, "Fuck, the casual way you said 'bull dyke' struck me funny. Bull dyke, huh?" I say, "Yeah, I actually met one a long time ago, and they can be trouble. The one I met had an issue with guys in general," and Ryan
asks, "Even gay guys?" I go, "I don't really know, I just met the one briefly."
Then another biker comes out of Burger King and joins the first one. It's a butch looking woman in her early twenties. She takes the bull dyke's cigarette and drags on it. Actually this second one would be a cute guy except for her big tits, and that other small matter between her legs. She's wearing black skinny jeans with a wide belt that has a big silver belt buckle. Her t-shirt is stretched in front by the previously mentioned huge jugs and she's got a vest over her t-shirt with many buttons pinned to it. The kind of button's with sayings or ads on them that some people collect. She's standing there sort of arrogantly, like a tough dude would stand, arguing with the gray-haired flat-top person. We stare at then frowning, not wanting to admit we'd rather not have to walk by them into the restaurant. Someone behind us says, "Weird, huh?" Ryan and I both sort of jump from being startled. We turn around and see a guy about our age with unruly yellow hair and a pleasant face. He has blond beard stubble and a fully developed beard that
looks bristly. The guy's a couple inches taller than me with a slender body, wide shoulders and a bit of a barrel chest. He's wearing jeans, a denim jacket over a t-shirt, and he's holding a Red Bull Racing cap against his leg. He keeps pushing his long bangs out of his eyes with a finger, but the hair fall right back down, so he does it again. His fingernails are black with dirt, or grease, or something I don't want to think about. He says, "Kinda scary looking, aren't they? They're members of the Washington, D.C. chapter of DOB."
Ryan and I are speechless for a moment as the guy holds out his hand, saying, "Parker Jeters," and we shake hands briefly, saying our names. Ryan saying 'Ryan' instead of Albert, which makes me grin. He's never going to pull off the Albert thing, and I know I'm gonna screw it up. Parker asks, "Y'all from Georgia? I saw your Mini Cooper down a ways across the street with Georgia tags." Ryan tells him where we're headed and Parker says, "Oh, I've got an aunt lives in Marietta." He pronounced 'aunt' as 'ant'." Ryan tells him we're coming from Merrimack College in Massachusetts and he says, "No shit, college students, eh? I flunked out of Florida state two years ago," pronouncing 'Florida' as 'Flow-ri-da. I ask, "What's DOB stand for? You said the bikers were DOB." He looks at me, then grins pointing at my head chuckling rudely, exclaiming, "What the fuck kinda haircut do you got there on your head? And you being such a pretty boy too!" I nod at Ryan, muttering, "Ask my barber about my haircut,?" and Parker laughs out loud, "He did that fucked-up haircut? And you're still friends?" Ryan glares at the guy, then puts his arm around the back of my neck hugging me against him, saying defiantly, "Yeah, we're still friends. Dylan's my boyfriend as a matter of fact, and he asked you a question. What does DOB stand for." Parker eyes light up, "You boys are gay! Whooee, and you got the balls to come right out and tell that to a total stranger?" I go, "Yeah, so what? And what the fuck does DOB mean?" He goes, "Oh, that. Yeah, it stands for dykes on bikes. DOB, dykes on bikes, motorcycles actually. Um, do you boys fuck and suck each other, and shit like that?" Ryan and I give him a flat-eyed look, and he says, "No offense intended, none at all. I like gays and I'm a little gay myself, at times anyway. Hey, you two want a couple of beers? I got a small keg thing in the refrigerator at my place, or we got pop too, soda pop." Together Ryan and I say, "No thanks, we're, um..." and Ryan stops talking, so I finish with, "Gonna get something to eat at Burger King , but thanks for the offer."
Parker puts his Red Bull cap on, brushes his yellow bangs off his eyes again, and goes into his pocket bringing his hand out with a couple of small candy bars. Holding the candy towards us, "These here are pecan chocolate bars my Daddy's company makes. Help yourself if y'all like chocolate and pecans." He pronounced pecan as 'pik-ons'. We shake our heads as we take a step back, "Um, no thanks, Parker. Heh heh, don't wanna ruin our dinner." He shrugs and rips open the wrapper on one of the little bars and plops the candy in his mouth. His very white top middle teeth have a space between them making him look like a young boy when he grins. I don't sense anything especially dangerous about Parker, and I'm not sure if he's an oddball or just representative of a good ol' boy from W Virginia. I'm about to say, 'Nice to have met ya, Parker," and walk away when out of Burger King pours a stream of DOBs, half of them not looking much like any woman I'm familiar with. They're loud and boisterous and big and all dressed like men, some with leather chaps over their black jeans. Lots of vests and leather motorcycle boots and black leather jackets with many zippers, silver chains, and studs. Some of them light up cigarettes and others light up joints. We can smell the pot right away. They're sitting on their motorcycles or standing in groups talking and laughing loudly. It's obvious they aren't going anywhere anytime soon, so I'm not real interested in food all of a sudden. I can see tattoos and piercing's on many of them from here, so up close it must be a freak show. A lot of them have the same patch on the sleeve of their motorcycle jackets. It's a skeleton hand giving the finger. That must be their gang's motto... fuck you, or go fuck yourself. Whichever...
The three of us are gawking at the scary group of big female types when an extra large African American biker at the edge of the group nearest us, snaps her head around and bellows at us, "What the fuck you three white-bread crackers looking at? Get your skinny asses down here where you can see us up close!" and three other big woman walk next to the big black lady. Parker quietly says, "Un oh, why don't y'all back away with me slowly." As he casually takes a couple of steps back, I look over at the Mini but it's right across the street from the dykes on bikes and there's maybe thirty-five of them so forget the Mini for now. Parker gets a hold of Ryan's and my arms pulling us with him as two of the dykes start laughing and running towards us fast, so we turn around and run our asses off following Parker who's giggling. Looking back at us, he yells, "You boys better run faster than that." He's already half a block ahead of us. Wow, those two dykes are fast too! I can hear Parker laughing as he runs, although I don't get the joke. Looking over my shoulder I see the dykes only ran a half block chasing us off and now they're walking back to the parking lot slapping each other on the back. I can hear them laughing at us too, so I slow down to a walk. It's a bit humiliating running away from women. Ryan stops running too, and a full block ahead of us Parker has stopped and he's looking at us. When we get to him he's got a big smile on his face, saying, "Don't y'all tell anyone you was scared off by a couple of fat girls. Whooee, you the pussies, not them," and he laughs some more as I ask, "How do you know so much about the, um, DOB motorcycle gang?"
Three abreast we're walking away from Burger King with Parker saying, "It's a club, not a gang. The story was in the newspaper that a lesbian motorcycle club was coming through on their way to Flow-ri-da. There's apparently lots of DOB clubs across the US of A. The paper said these clubs reject, um, something like the norms of middle America. Supposedly they're supporting gay pride by heading up gay pride parades and stuff like that. I say good for them, but I'm surprised you queer boys didn't know about the DOB clubs." I say, "Easy on the pejorative references to us gays." He goes, "I already told y'all I flunked out of college, so don't use big words around me or you'll make me look like a dumb hick." Ryan asks, "Did the paper say anything about that motorcycle gang being dangerous?" Parker says, "No, not like the Hell's Angels are supposedly dangerous." I go, "I guess there's exceptions to every rule." He goes, "What? Back there? Nah, they were just having fun scaring us off. They wouldn't have done anything." Ryan's like, "Oh yeah, so why'd ya run your ass off then?" Parker laughs, "Because I was having a little fun with you boys. The way your eyes got big when they started running towards us gave me the giggles." Ryan and me exchange 'looks' both of us wishing we hadn't run off like we did. Not our finest moment during the trip to Marietta.
All of a sudden, I'm like, "Wait a fucking second, where we going?" Ryan shrugs, "Um, yeah, where're we going, Parker?" He says, "I'm going home, and like I said, you're welcome to join me for some beers. It's only me and my brother right now. Mommy and Daddy are at a candy convention in Atlanta." Mommy and Daddy? What the fuck? Ryan's biting his bottom lip, thinking I guess. Then he asks me, "Whaddaya think, Dylan?" And he's suppose to be in-charge? Oh well, he can't make up his mind, so I ask, "How far's your place from here, Parker?" He goes, "It's two more blocks that way," and he points to the right. I shrug, "Okay, lets see it," and we continue walking. We're in a middle class neighborhood, nothing unusual about it. Two block further on though we see a gated community of McMansions. I ask, "You live in there, Parker?" He goes, "Yep, my Daddy's candy company is big in the South, but that's not why we're rich." He keys in a code at the gate for foot traffic that's next to the much larger one for cars, and in we go. I'm sorta surprised we're heading for these big homes because Parker looks more like a poor boy rather than the son of a rich guy.
There's very little space between these houses, but the houses are big and all pretty much the same. Everything looks new, like it was all built within the last year. Parker basically confirms that, saying, "We moved in after the first of the year. Daddy gave my brother and me our own section of the house, like an apartment. We got our own entrance, our own kitchen, our own everything. They like us living with them 'cause we're a close knit family, ya know. My grandma and grandpa live on the third floor, so we got three generations of Jeters under one roof." He's walking around the side of his McMansions, then keys in a code for the locked door at a side entrance, saying, "My aunt and uncle and cousins live six house down from ours." I thought he was going to say they lived on the second floor. We go inside and it's like a miniature arcade with four computer games like the ones you see at an arcades on the boardwalk, plus a pinball machine, two big flat screen TVs on the walls, an X-box one and a lot of other adult toys. All modernistic furniture too with lots of chrome and dark leather. I mean it's wicked cool, but doesn't go with Parker somehow. Ryan's like, "Dude, this place rocks!" Parker says, "Yeah, like I said Daddy and Mommy were determined to have Lyle and me live with them, so they gave us what we asked for. My bro and I had an apartment downtown that was pretty raunchy, but cool too. This is better though." No shit, Sherlock.
Out of the kitchen comes a little older guy, Parker's brother I'm guessing. He could be Parker's twin except older. He also has a full beard, but his is grown in, not stubble. He look's very clean and neat though with a short haircut almost identical to Ryan's. In other words the opposite of disheveled, dirty-fingernailed, long-haired Parker. We get introduced to Lyle, who's the nicest, softest spoken guy you'd ever want to meet. Parker getting us all a draft beer. He gets fancy beer glasses out of their huge freezer, then fills them with beer from a tap in their ginormous refrigerator. Lyle's a quiet talker, but verbose at the same time. As we sit around this living-room/game-room in space age chairs Lyle tells us the story of his 'Daddy' striking it rich. It was the mid-nineties during the dot-com boom. Before that they we're middle class folk getting by okay and happy enough. He says, "Daddy's smart though and recognized the potential profit in the dot-coms. A lot of people are smart, but not all smart people are rich. Daddy refinanced our old house to get cash and then invested it brilliantly, and then got out before the collapse of the dot-com bubble." Parker says, "If y'all look up nouveau rich in the dictionary you'll see a picture of our Daddy," and he and Lyle laugh their asses off as Ryan and I grin wondering what's so funny. Okay, the brothers aren't exactly what we're used to, but they're nice guys and very good hosts. Lyle gets clean beer glasses out of the freezer for our next beer, this time dropping a shot glass of bourbon into each drink before passing them around, quietly saying, "Well boys, we're moving up to bomb shots from now on." Oh fuck! While Lyle was making our bomb shots, Parker microwaved a large container of chili the brothers made from scratch this afternoon. He passes out bowls of steaming chili with crusty bread. Ryan and I glance at each other and then taste the chili. It's spicy, but maybe the best chili I've ever eaten. Better than Wendy's by a country mile, as I imagine Parker would say.
We all have seconds on the chili and another bomb shot, then with the TV tuned to an Atlanta Braves' baseball game, we try out a couple of the computer games, and it's like we're at a free sports bar. Around ten-thirty two more good ol' boys join us, one is their cousin and the other a friend of the cousin. They're good guys too, maybe in their mid-twenties. Both of them are smoking joints ten minutes after they got here. We learn that Lyle's twenty-four and Parker's twenty-one, soon to be twenty-two. Both brothers smoke Marlboros so after finishing our chili, the four of us are smoking away. The cousin, Barney, is a funny fucker and he gets everyone laughing. Things are going great and then another cousin, a girl in her early twenties, and her girlfriend of the same age join the party. The girls do three shots each, one right after the other, to catch up. That was their explanation anyway. Both girls are flirting with me like mad until Teddy, who's Barney's friend, comes over with Barney and they talk the girls into dancing with them. Ryan's playing a computer game trying to beat Lyle's score and I'm watching them until Parker takes hold of my arm, leaning his head down, saying, "I wanna show you something, Dylan."
We go down the hall and into a bedroom where Parker unnecessarily explains, "This is my bedroom, Dylan." I look around, and unlike Parker, this place is clean and totally picked-up. "Dude, you're one neat guy." He laughs, "Nah, we have a maid come in everyday to clean, change the sheets, and all that. I'm sloppy." He plops down on another space age type chair and flicks on his flat screen TV, saying, "I got some good porn." I can't help glancing at his hands and those dirty fingernails. He catches me looking, and holds a hand up, saying, "I'm a gear head. I work at my uncle's garage taking engines apart. Love working with cars, trucks, and my personal favorite, Harley-Davidson motorcycles, but the grease gets into my skin and under my nails. Hey, by the way, dude, I'm getting a motorcycle for my birthday, which is coming up pretty soon. A big bad motherfucker of a motorcycle and I can't fuckin' wait." I go, "Huh," and glance at the TV where two men man and a women are fucking. Ugh! To be polite I watch a little of the porn film with him while gulping down my bomb beer, or whatever he called it. Parker's beer is only half gone when I finish mine, so I figure I'll use getting another beer as an excuse to exit the porn show. Both the men in the movie are in their late thirties with nineteen-eighties over-their-ears haircut, and they've got soft looking bodies, so nothing I'm interested in. I advert my eyes when there's a close-up of the ladies private parts between her legs, or I guess for women it 'private part'... singular.
I tell Parker I'm getting a beer and he stands up playing with himself, saying, "I didn't expect you to be interested in the movie, and actually I'm not either. It was just something to, ya know, get us onto the subject of sex." I go, "Oh, um, you need a beer?" He goes, "No, but wait a second," and he comes over putting his arms around me with the side of his face next to mine and he kind of hugs me. His beard is scratchy and sexy and he has an odor like the outdoors, or motor oil, or something like that, with just a slight touch of BO as well. Very macho smell... that's how I'd describe his personal scent, plus his body's hard and muscular. He quietly says, "Please let me see what it's like fucking you, Dylan. You've got the hottest ass and you're better looking than anyone I've ever had sex with. You smell good too," and his face drags against my cheek until his lips connect to mine and he kisses me with his tongue in my mouth. I actually liked Parker right off when we met. He has an innocent confidence about him and now I find out he's very sexy too." After the kiss he gets a hand on my crotch and massages my dick, murmuring, "How 'bout it, Dylan? Nobody will know. Please." His mouth covers mine again, his eyes mischievously grinning at me. And yes, you can see a person grinning from the look in their eyes. Anyway, I mumble "I'm kinda surprised by this, Parker," He's like, "Oh, but what'd ya expect? You told me you were queer right off and you're so cute straight boys would wanna change sides to fuck you. Not that I'm all that straight to start with," and his hand rubs up the back of my head while his other hand continues massaging my stiffening cock... jeez-sus! Okay, Parker's at least bisexual, and probably leaning strongly towards the homosexual side.
When I kiss back I know I'm going to do it with him, so I get into a hot and heavy make-out with him, my fingers in his long course yellow hair as our tongues slide together. He holds my face against his with a strong hand at the& back of my head, our noses bumping and our lips kissing and sucking. Parker's other hand unbuttons my khakis and he gets his hand inside my underwear with his fist going around my cock. He's slowly stroking it as we continues making-out, then he says, "Oh, you shave your pubic hairs. That's so fucking queer of you, but I like it." I'm a goner by now, leaning against him with a moan slipping out of my throat. He lets go of my pecker and pulls my pants down past my ass, breathlessly murmuring, "Just stand right there, okay? Just for a second." He open his jeans and pulls out a big boner about the size of Ryan's, except a little fatter. After roughly turning me around, he smacks my ass hard, "Smack!" and I yelp, so Parker considerately rubs my smacked butt cheek a few seconds, then pushes his finger up my ass and pulls upwards and I go up on my toes. It occurs to me that Parker and I were making eye contact earlier tonight. I was doing it unconsciously and he obviously took it as an invitation. I'm glad he did. The eye contact was because I like looking at him. He's really quite the macho sexy guy, even if he is a bit of a goober. I'm really getting off on his take-charge dominance though, but no way is this his first rodeo. The finger up my ass rubs my prostate and oh god, my cock is so hard It's trembling.
He's nestling the side of his face against mine again as he roughly finger fucks me with one of his dirty-fingernail fingers. His scratchy beard is awesome, as he murmurs, "You're liking this, aint'cha, Dylan. You're a hot sexy boy alright and you like it rough too, huh?" I'm sucking on my lips afraid I'm going to shoot off before he even gets his boner up my ass. Parker again asks, "Don'cha like it rough, Dylan?" I nod my head, deep in sexual heat, managing only to mutter, "Uh huh," followed by a long low moan of arousal with me clutching his body against mine. His cheek scrapes against mine again as he bites my ear sending chills up my spine. Now his tongue's in my ear all squishy and warm as he's moaning with arousal himself now. His finger comes out of my ass and I feel the wet head of his cock at my asshole. He humps it in painfully while rubbing the side of his face against mine, murmuring, "God, you're pretty," and his hand rubs across the top of my head pulling my head back against his shoulder as he grunts and shoves his boner in another two or three inches with my back arching and me groaning going up on my toes again. Parker kisses the side of my face leaving saliva there as he grunts and lifts me back up on my toes again cramming his cock the rest of the way up my ass. Gasping sounds coming from Parker as he's humping roughly against my buttocks. The pain's insignificant compared to the overwhelming sexual sensations I'm feeling, masking the hurt in my rectum. I inhale his scent then let out sort of a whiny moan with my cock hard as wood
sticking straight out six full inches. My boner's so tight it barely move as Parker again humps his hips hard against my buttocks and lifts his hips up, and up I go on my toes one more time, moaning and laying back against his chest limply. I'm totally under Parker's control and so aroused by that fact it's like sexual ecstasy for me.
Parker jammed his huge boner up my ass and humped against my buttocks a half dozen times, but he's yet to pull that boner of his back and actually fuck me. He swings me around, his boner's fully up my ass, and we stiffly walks five steps to his desk. He puts some pressure on the back of my head which tells me to bend forward at my waist and support myself with my hands on the desk. He lets out a long exhale, smacks my ass casually, but hard a few time, "SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!" and I hump my hips whining and almost cum. Instead a long drool of precum drops down to 'Splat' on the hardwood floor. Grabbing both my hips Parker begins fucking me with lots of grunts and moans from him. He really gets into it now fucking me steadily at a fairly fast pace. I'm gulping with my head back as he tightly slides his big boner back and forth in my ass. He bangs into my buttocks hard with every thrust up my ass and I'm flopping around with my hard cock hitting the top of the desk with every hard drive up my ass. So many delicious sexual sensations to taste, but way too many to keep track of or know exactly where they're coming from... my prostate, my anus, or my throbbing cock and hardening nuts. It's three minutes of pure sexual pleasure before I squeal while shooting a sharp stream of cum straight at the poster of a race driver on the wall behind his desk. My cum hits, splatters, and drools down the face of whoever the race driver is. Somewhere from outer space I hear Parker giggling, probably at my squeal as my back's arching again and I do a lesser squeal with my cock shooting out three more little sprays of cum and then I'm done as I shake and shudder. Hanging my head between my arms, my body feels squirmy as after affects of my orgasm dance around here and there before fading away.
That climax felt so fucking good, but so does Parkers cock that's still sliding very tightly in my rectum. Not for long though. I climaxed within three minutes tops, Parker only last twenty seconds longer and with his groin tight against my ass and him doing desperate very hard humps against my butt cheeks he unloads a long stream of cum inside my bowels, then another hump with a whimpering moan from Parker as more cum shoots inside me. He gasps and does another hump, then another before letting go of my hips and stepping back pulling his cock out. Lots of his spunk immediately runs out of my asshole and down the back of my legs. I reach back with both hands to stop the cum before it hits my underpants. Then I feel a soft cloth on the back of my legs. It's Parker using his handkerchief wiping the cum off my legs. He takes a deep breath, then says, "Come in the bathroom with me, Dylan, and I'll get the rest off with a washcloth." I follow him as he's saying, "Man, I'm was so fucking aroused I didn't put a condom on first," and his arm goes across my shoulder, "I forgot the condom, and I never forget a condom.
I'm really sorry." He's very friendly and relaxed about all this. It's like we just finished a computer game together, or changed a flat tire together, or something ordinary. He gets a washcloth, wets it a little and does a great job of cleaning his cum off me while chuckling, "You don't say much, do you?" I shrug, "Um, Parker, it's like I'm kinda speechless. I mean you totally took me by surprise, dude. Nice recreational fuck though." He nods his head, "Yeah, it was better than 'nice' for me. I thought my balls were coming up through my dick when I climaxed. Hope we can do it again a little later, but for now lets rejoin the party, " and he pulls my pants up and pats my ass, "That's quite an ass ya got there, Dylan."
As we're walking back down the hall, he asks, "Will this be a problem as far as your boyfriend goes?" I say, "Ryan? He's actually not my boyfriend, but lets keep it between you and me anyway, okay?" Parker mutters, "That works for me," and he puts his arm across my shoulders again giving me a squeeze. In the living room everyone is as they were when we left nine or ten minutes ago. Ryan's not even looking at us, as he yells, "Victory," so I guess he beat Lyle at whatever game they were playing, but he sounds drunk. Bourbon shots in your beer will do it every time. Parker, cool as ice, like nothing out of the ordinary happened, makes new bomb shots for us and we lean against the wall smoking, drinking, and watching Lyle's and Ryan's rematch race on one of the computer games involving racing cars. On the sofa the male cousin and one of the girls are making out hot and heavy with no one paying any attention to them, and I don't see the other guy and girl. I ask Parker, "Is it like this every night here?" He shrugs, "Not every night, no. Sometimes it's just three or four of us watching something sports related on the TV. Then sometimes it's a lot wilder, but we mostly keep the craziness inside so we don't get the neighbors pissed-off. When Mommy and Daddy are here we tone it down out of respect for them, but they travel a lot." I'm trying not to react to him saying, 'Mommy' and 'Daddy' with a straight face? I mean he's not four years old.
The dirty glasses are piling up on the kitchen table because every time someone gets another drink they use a new glass from the big freezer. Parker and I finish our drinks, and now Ryan's not the only one drunk, plus the pot smoke is a haze drifting around the room like a cloud getting me high on all that secondhand smoke. We're drinking in sort of a haze and later Barney, Teddy, Lyle, and Ryan, who's wearing somebody's Red Bull Racing cap now, maybe Parker's 'cause he's not wearing it, are all playing a computer game with the two girls cheering them on. Parker blinks his eyes a few times, mumbling, "Fucking smoky in here," and we go outside for some fresh air. I stumble on something and would have fallen on my face if Parker hadn't grabbed me first. I mumble, "Dude, I'm drunk," and he goes, "Me too, or maybe I'm high and drunk. Did ya see the smoke cloud in there?" I nod and take a gulp of whiskey, which is what the beer taste like with a shot in it. Parker leads me around the side of their big house where there's a beautiful lighted patio with flowering shrubbery all around it. Very cool except the back of someone else's Mc Mansion is a mere twenty feet away. I go, "They built these kinda close together, huh?" He says, "Yeah," and he points to the house I'm looking at, "We hate the assholes in that house. Got in a fist fight with their kid like the third week we were here." He tells me a long meandering story about the reason for the fight, and then an even longer harangue about motorcycle engines using esoteric mechanic language until I have not the slightest clue what he's talking about. I keep looking at him as he talks though, to be polite and because he's sexy looking. That scratchy beard of his is on my mind a little bit too. The memory of his whiskers against my face, and his sort of raunchy scent are lingering in my brain.
We're still out here long after our bomb shots are finished, and thank god he doesn't get the urge for another one. When he finally stops talking we look at each other in silence for a minute or so in kind of a trance, then he slowly gets up to crouch next to my chair and we make-out with his beard against my face as sexy as it was the first time I felt it. He's goosing my junk, his tongue in my mouth, my hand in his long yellow hair, and it's really a sexy hot time! With our mouths together he sort of lifts me up with a hand under each of my armpits and gets my pants down just like he did in his bedroom. This time he leans me down with my hands on the seat of the chair and fucks me for at least ten minutes slowly until tears run down my cheeks at how incredibly awesome this sex is for me. The newness of him, and the sexy macho way about him, and his smell and that long yellow hair I'd love to cut. Those things, plus his big cock and his attitude that seemingly indicates this is the most normal thing to do with someone you've know for all of three hours, the most normal thing in the world. Like lending a stranger your cell phone so they can make a quick call to get road service to give a jump to their dead battery. Yeah, a routine fuck or lend a cellphone, what's the difference? Then after the fuck, 'That was cool, but hot too. Ha ha, hey, ya want another beer?' Like that.
My climax isn't very big in volume, but I thought I'd pass out at how sexy-hot it felt flying out my dick. Then Parker's wiping his cum off my ass again using the clean handkerchief he got from his bureau after using the first one for the same purpose. While cleaning his cum off my ass he's telling me about the Harley Davidson he's already picked out for his birthday present from Mommy and Daddy. It's like our fuck together is so normal it's hardly worth mentioning. Needless to say, with Ryan fucking me with his large cock my ass got a little sore and now after two hard fucks from Parker I'm walking funny again and it hurts sitting down. Was it worth it? Definitely!
With my pants up and buttoned and his big cock put away, Parker sees me wince sitting down and he gets a pillow off another chair and puts it under me, then he sits down and continues telling me what he started telling me before fucking me, "Like I was saying, Lyle works at the candy factory with Daddy and they both want me to work there too, but I'm a gear head, dude." He already told me all this earlier so I guess he's as drunk as I am, and being drunk myself I tell him, "Dude, you need a fucking haircut." He runs his fingers through his hair, asking, "Do I?" I go, "Get serious, you know it. Ya got a pair of scissors?" He's like, "Yeah, a'course I've got scissors,
but I'm not letting your friend get near my hair after seeing the haircut he gave you," and he laughs pointing at my head, then adds, "No fucking way, amigo." I frown, "Not him, me. Go get the scissors." He goes, "Oh, you know how to cut hair? Um, yeah okay, but you come with me."
We go inside where there's an ongoing group discussion about the DOBs with one of the girls saying, "There's a Dyke, Virginia. Seriously, that the name of the town." Someone who must have come in when we were out back, because I know I haven't seen him before, says, "Well those bitches like the sub culture life obviously. Did ya read that article in the paper yesterday? It said..." I stop listening because there's Ryan asleep in one of the space age chairs. He looks comfortable enough, so that's good at least. Parker and I go into the kitchen where the used beer glasses are piled higher now. I sure hope the maid gets paid well. Lyle yells from the living room, "What's up, Parker?" He yells back, "Dylan's giving me a haircut," and I can just barely hear a girl says, "Somebody needs to, that for sure." Then the new guy asks, "Who's Dylan?" Parker rustles around in one of the drawers under the granite counter top and comes up with a pair of scissors that definitely aren't barber scissors, but they look sharp. He sits in a chair saying, "Some off the top and short on the sides." It makes me laugh and he laughs too, then jumps up and gets frozen beer glasses from the freezer and fills then with beer from the mini keg in the refrigerator, as I go, "No bomb shot for me, Parker." He goes, "Okay," and sits down again. "Ya got a comb, Parker?" He pulls a pocket comb from his pocket, where else would it be, and hands it to me. I comb through his course long yellow bangs. Combed straight down the hair reaches his mouth. I cut, 'Scrunch', 'Scrunch' through all that yellow hair just above his eyebrows and four inches of hair falls into his lap. He mutters, "Good," and for the next ten minutes I have lots of fun giving him a short haircut and doing a remarkably good job of it consi dering I'm drunk. Hopefully when sober it'll still look as good as it does to me now.
When I'm done, his haircut looks almost like his brother's. He gets a dustpan and brush from a closet and we brush most of the long yellow hair off the floor and dump it in the trash. Parker mumbles, "Anita can get the rest tomorrow," and we walk back into the living room where everyone cheers as Parker raises his arms like he just won a race or something. I get lots of pats on the back and overly enthusiastic accolades for Parker's haircut. I'm feeling really good tonight as I gently sit down on the cushioned sofa. Parker fucked my ass raw and it's very tender so something soft is kinda mandatory for sitting. I'm curious, "Um, anyone know what knocked out my friend, Ryan. He's down for the count in that chair over there?" They all look at Ryan sleeping in the chair like they didn't know he was here. Everyone's so high they probably don't know they're here either. One of the girls says, "Oh yeah, I think he was taking too many hits off the bong pipe when we fired that fucker up, and a couple minutes later he crashed. He was drunk too, of course." I see the bong pipe for the first time. It sort of blends in with everything else in here. Parker sits next to me on the sofa and puts his arm across my shoulders sort of pulling me over against him, saying into my ear, "Since your boyfriend's out of commission, I'll be your boyfriend for the night," and I go, "He's not my boyfriend, I already told ya that," and Barney in a sing-song voice, says, "Parker's got a new boyfriend," and Lyle quietly says, "I hope Dean doesn't fuckin' hear about this." Parker yells, "To hell with Dean! He had his chance," and they start reminiscing about all of Parker's conquests, which consists of guys only. In my foggy brain I realize Parker isn't bisexual, he's gay. Whatever, it feels good pressed against his body and I nestle in against him with him leaning down so his beard scratches my cheek again, whispering in my ear, "You'll sleep with me tonight and maybe we'll do it again. You suck cock right?" I do the fast head nod and he squeezes me, whispering, "Damn, I wanna keep you."
Another round of bomb shots for everyone but Ryan. They're finally out of fresh glasses so they use random used glasses from the table without washing them first. Drinking a drink I don't like or want, my head in a fog as I listen to the group recounting some of the parties they've had here, mentioning names of guys and girls who aren't here tonight. I laugh along with everyone even though I don't know what they're talking about. Booze and pot in excess has that effect on me. One of the cousins tells a few outlandish stories of experiences they've had together before moving here. By now I'm almost laying on Parker. His arm's around me as he absently rubs the back of his finger against the sandpaper-feeling hair on the back of my head. My head lulls forward and I almost fall asleep, both drunk and high from the second hand smoke and the totes off the joint that keeps getting passed around. When it gets to Parker he holds it over for me to take a hit on, then he takes one before passing it on. After awhile he quietly says, "Here, Dylan, put you head on my lap, you're busted." He helps me adjust my position so I'm laying on the sofa, my feet on the arm of the sofa and my head in his lap. He rubs my head as he tells the story he told me about the fight he had with the neighbor living in back of them... I drift off to sleep before the end of it.
When I wake-up I'm in bed with Parker as naked as he is with no recollection of how or when I got here. I'm partially sleeping on him, my head on his chest and his arm over my shoulder. He smells like he did last night, which is sexy and macho and a little like an auto repair shop smells with a little stronger scent of BO now that he's naked. His scent is giving me a boner. Moving my head I look at his face and he looks different. Then I remember giving him a haircut last night. It still looks good from here, but I can see some small hair clippings on his chest and the shoulder I'm not laying on. This is so randomly cool I put my arm across his chest and give a little hug, but he's really out of it. I've no idea what time we went to bed, or where Ryan is. My bare leg rubs against Parkers and I feel how hairy his leg is and get a raging boner. Rubbing my foot all along his leg, from his knee to his foot, and oh god that's so sexy. I glance at his chest, but I already know there's not a hair on it. Too bad.
After laying awake for quite awhile the pressing need I noticed when I woke up gets the better of me, and I've simply gotta take a piss now or I'm gonna piss the bed. Lifting his arm off me and gently laying it next to him, I slide out of bed. After pulling on my boxer shorts I tiptoe out of the bedroom and down the hall to the living room. The place is a mess, but it's very quiet, not a sound to be heard. There's also no one's sleeping in here, so where's Ryan? And more importantly where's a bathroom? Parker and I pissed outside last night but I must have used a bathroom in here too. Can't remember though. Okay, the kitchen and hallway are to the left of the living room so I'll go to the right. There's a short hall and then another bedroom with the door open. I peek in and see Lyle in bed and Ryan, fully dressed, sleeping on a pullout bed Lyle must have set-up for him. That's so nice of him! There's an open door in Lyle's bedroom that I can see leads to a bathroom, so there's probably one in Parker's room too. Fuck! After tiptoeing back to Parker's bedroom I try the door I thought was a closet. It opens to a short hall, like in Lyle's bedroom, with the bathroom at the end and a door on either side that's probably closets. In the bathroom I'm like, 'Oh man! This piss feels so good!'. Then I close the door and take a crap. My ass is still sore, but totally manageable. Washing my hands and face I look in
the mirror at my bloodshot eyes and realize I've got a pounding hangover and my mouth taste like a bird's nest. Grabbing a bottle of mouthwash I gargle and then see toothpaste so I brush my teeth using my finger as a toothbrush, then gargle again. My head's pounding like a drum now. I guess my need for a piss overrode the headache getting all my attention, but now I sure notice it. There's Advil in the medicine cabinet so I take a couple with my hand cupping some water that I sip. One of the Advil goes down, but the other one is caught in my throat so another cupped hand of water and I'm all better. Yeah, except I'm dizzy and unsteady, and my head is still pounding. I hear, "Dylan, come back to bed, it's only seven o'clock." Hmmm...
to be continued... Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com donnymumford@outlook.com
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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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