DYLAN'S GEORGIA VACATION
Chapter 6
by Donny Mumford
I wake-up this Saturday morning in a Hampton Inn. Ryan, in bed next to me, mutters, "Umto pum, oh," rustles around a little on his back and continues sleeping. His eyelids are moving and I think that means he's dreaming. It'd be interesting to know what he's dreaming about. Looking at him closely, staring at his face, I think, 'How does that baby face of his have the beginnings of a beard?' Reaching over I rub the back of my finger in the short curly facial hair along his jaw. Soft as the hair on his head. Funny how I used to think facial hair was unattractive and changed my mind about that about a year and a half ago for reasons unknown. We're all at the mercy of our subconscious minds, but I've known that for a long time without being able to do much about it.
Anyway I know this much, Ryan's become kind of important to me because he's the only human I know for more than a thousand miles in any direction. Sliding over next to him so our naked bodies are touching and that's nice. Ryan has a hot little body, but what I'm mostly concerned about this morning is the phantom neon sign blinking in my head announcing, 'TODAY'S THE DAY!'. No shit! A big yawn from me as I glance at my wristwatch: a little after eight o'clock in the morning. That's nine hours of sleep, which is plenty for me. I put my head against Ryan's, then my arm across his chest and hug gently feeling dependent on this little buddy of mine. We're less than an hour's drive from Marietta, Georgia, home of the Wilcox family of which Ryan's a member. A little nervous shudder runs through me at that thought. My leg goes between Ryan's with me hugging him a little tighter, then rubbing my nose in the hair on the side of his perfectly shaped head. He's always smelled amazingly sexy to me. Ryan's all I've got right now, but I think he'll be enough. I have faith in him and what the fuck, it's not like we're going on some dangerous mission behind enemy lines in the middle east somewhere. We're going to his house where his parental unit will welcome us with open arms. Maybe not open arms...
Yeah, we'll be at Ryan's house meeting his parents in a couple of hours. Common sense tells me that most of my apprehension about meeting them has been unintentionally created by my little buddy here. Ryan's overzealous concerns that everything be perfect has put me on edge. I mean, why does everything need to be perfect? He's lived with these people for twenty years and I'd think they sorta know what to expect from each other by now. Oh fuck, maybe that's why he's so concerned, he knows what to expect. Heh heh, I simply can't take this as seriously as Ryan does, the poor kid. Obviously it's because I'm with him that's caused most of his concern. Maybe he's afraid I'll think his parents are 'head cases'? Or is it that he hasn't been honest with me when he says his parents are okay with us being gay boyfriends. I'm pretty sure he didn't tell them we were fuck-buddies, although it's likely they've surmised that. Maybe Ryan's nervous about me meeting his parents because neither of them ever actually said it was okay for me to spend this time with them in the first place. It was dumb of me not to have at least one parent confirm we're good to go with this summer project. An email or text from one of them, with Ryan's prompting perhaps. He does have a propensity to project what he wishes to be true onto a situation when in fact it isn't true. Hypothetically his parents may have said they'd think about it, and while they never gave a definitive answer Ryan jumped to the assumption everything's good to go. Yipes, that could be awkward! Oh fuck, it could be a lot of things, but Ryan's not saying. He claims it's all good, but yet he's paranoid about me meeting his parents, so how could it be 'all good'?
Opening his eyes, Ryan smiles, "You're hugging me, Dylan." I grin, "Yeah, I know, Albert. It's because you're my security blanket." He chuckles, "Ah ha! You'll need to always take me with you wherever you go like that cartoon kid's blanket." Grinning I nod my head and kiss his cheek. Damn, he smells good, but I already mentioned that. He rustles around getting his arms around me, then kisses the side of my face, with a cheerful, "G'morning, boyfriend." I lay over on my back, "Are we actually boyfriends, Albert? I mean in a sense other that we're boys and we're friends?" He shrugs, "Yeah, to me
we're boyfriends, Dylan, and I'm the boss so that's that." He was smiling and playful when he said that, and now he crawls over, goes up on his knees, then straddles me sitting on my hips with our dicks squashed together. Leaning down chest to chest, he murmurs, "And I love you with a passion." I mess his hair, mumbling, "That's sweet of you, Albert," and leave it at that. He grins, "You're the most beautiful, cutest twenty year hold boy on earth ... um, so of course you're my boyfriend 'cause I deserve nothing less." I make a 'face', again saying only, "That's sweet of you." He says, "You better me nice to you or I won't fuck you this morning." I shrug, pretending indifference, muttering, "Well, I'm not horny anyway, Albert, so there." Ryan says, "That's a new one. Never heard that from you before." I get both my arms around the back of his neck pulling his head down, then squeezing his face against mine, mumbling, "I don't need to be horny to get laid." He goes, "Good," and breaks loose of my hold, sliding backwards over my dick getting in between my legs and I pull my feet back and spread my legs. He murmurs, "Good, boy." He's on his knees leaning over to rub his cock all around my buttocks and up my ass crack. I feel his cock getting harder as I look at him, feeling the mysterious sexual heat for him I almost always sense. Nothing new there.
Ryan glances at me, "Dylan, I'm gonna get us off fast and hard this morning because I need a good hot orgasm, and so do you, then we're gonna get ready for my folks." He adjust his position, then asks, "Are you looking to get the shit slapped outta your ass, boy? Pull your legs back more, and get that pussy of your off the mattress." My dick tightens even though I'm not sure if he's acting or simply getting used to this dominant role, or maybe by now he's assuming it's real. Squinting at him, I get an arm around each leg pulling them back further until my back is curved and my ass lifts up off the mattress. He smacks my left butt cheek twice, "SMACK! SMACK!" mumbling, "Keep that pussy of your's up, okay..." My dick tightens some more as Ryan rubs the head of his now hard cock up my ass crack again, then, "Umpth," he plugs it in past my sphincter with me yearning for the times we used lubricant. He moves on his knees, puts a hand on the back of each of my knees pushing his boner up my ass with me seeing red, gritting my teeth and Ryan saying, "Get used to taking it, babe. That's a good boy," as he keeps shoving that big dick up my ass until he's leaning his crotch against my buttocks, sighing, "Ooooh, mmmmm." I gasp at the pain with sweat breaking out on my face. So far I'm only feeling pain inside me, but I'm waiting for it to change. A quick nonstop penetration like that is gonna hurt even without a cock as big as Ryan's big boy. He leans over me and rubs the palm of his hand across my sweaty forehead, murmuring, "You're doing really good, Dylan, my cock is feeling good way up your ass."
As the throbbing pain in my rectum begins subsiding, it's my turn to sigh, "Aaaah, god, that's better." Ryan grins, "That's your man's big cock in there, huh, babe?" I think he's serious and I kinda like it for now, so I nod my head and he reaches over rubbing my short hair, silently mouthing, 'I love you,' as he pulls his boner back and thrusts it right back up my ass, and it's hurting all over again. Hurt or not, with no hesitation on Ryan's part he begins fucking me fast, "SLAP,SLAP,SLAP," sounds bouncing off the walls of the motel room with grunts from Ryan and groans from me. My rectum was a little tender from last night and then this morning Ryan never let it adjust to his big cock before plowing my ass. Quickly though everything changes for the better and the discomfort is forgotten now that the nerve endings inside my bowels are beginning to send out unmistakable anal-fucking sensations of sexual pleasure, and my anus is happily gripping Ryan's hard, fast moving fuck-tool while my prostate is ringing constantly, feeling so good I squeeze my eyes closed as my shoulders shudder and I can't help but moan, "Mmmmm, oooh, oooh..." My eyes snap open wide with delight as the pleasure swarms over me making me squirm on the bed moaning. I watch the determination on Ryan's face as he hammers his boner inside me. His hair's damp, sticking to his forehead, his lips tightly closed, as he stares at me making sounds of arousal and sexual pleasure in his throat, "Um, um. um, um," with each hard drive up my ass. Those sounds join the sound of his belly slapping against my buttocks, "SLAP,SLAP,SLAP,SLAP" with his scent drifting all around me making we ooze sexual heat for him as I reach out to him with my arms. He leans forward a little so I can gets my arms around his head and pull it down to mine hugging the side of his face against mine. The side of his face, hot and sweaty, slides against mine as we moan together and his constant thrusting-boner continues bringing both of us a world of sexual pleasure and that world is all that exist for us right now.
My body rocks with each hard hump up my ass, Ryan's strong hands still gripping my hips pulling me back into his driving cock with me spastically humping my hips against the thrusts time after time. Awesome sensations like I can hardly believe have me squirming under him, moaning, "Ooh, ooh, ooh,ooh, ooh." Seven or eight minutes of sheer, deeply felt sexual pleasure that's spread over my whole body and its all being generated by this boy I'm hugging against me like my life depends on it, and then, "Aaaaah," I hump up against him squealing, cum spits out from my cock in a spray between our stomachs, then a lot of cum pumps out of my throbbing boner creamily wetting both our stomachs as I squeal again and hump so hard Ryan slides off me onto his side with me going with him, one of my legs under him. We're still face to face, our foreheads bumping as Ryan frantically humps his boner in and back, in and back. My arms still around the back of his neck I'm moaning and shaking from that climax with delicious sensations pulsing around my groin even as my rectum still sparkles with awesome bursts of pleasure. I'm becoming limp as the tremendous explosion of nerve endings absorb energy leaving me momentarily weak. Ryan's still moving his boner and gasping, then just a breathy hissing sound and I feel his hard stream of spunk hitting inside my bowels, then again, and again. It's like I'm holding a wooden mannequin his body's so stiff. Then we're both limp like jello in each other's arms. I keep hugging his head against mine as we moan and sigh quietly, then a big body shudder from Ryan as our hearts pound fast and we breath deeply for thirty seconds. Then, all is still and quiet with Ryan's hugging me back, still on our sides face to face looking at one another with only half his cock still up my ass in this rather awkward anal sex position.
A weak smile, then almost a whispered, "So hot, babe, our sex just gets hotter and hotter, almost like it's our first time every time." I nod by head feeling dreamily submissive to him after he's just fucked me so hard, doing it his way. He traces my lips with the pad of his finger, murmuring, "Cat got your tongue?" I just snuggle tighter to him as he rubs my back and up the back of my head for a minute or so. Our bodies have created heat so we're both damp with perspiration and it feels steamy around us. Finally in a hushed voice, "Fuck me some more, Albert." He's still laying on one of my legs, the other one is over his hip as he does lazy short thrust with only about half his cock reaching my asshole because, while snuggling together, we've changed positions again. His cock feels so good going back and forth in my ass. I smile and enjoy the thrusts of his still fairly hard cock in my ass that continue for three or four minutes more. As his hips move Ryan's caressing my body, his hands all over me giving me sexy chills. Finally he stops thrusting, takes a deep breath and says, "Shower time, baby, I want to be on time meeting the folks." He pulls his cock out and rolls off the mattress, mumble, "I'll go first." I lay here feeling really good thinking how Ryan's doing everything he can to make me happy. For him as much as for me I'm hoping upon hope the summer works out the way he fantasizes it will. Getting up I pad into the bathroom with Ryan's spunk drooling out of my ass. After a piss I pull the shower curtain open and step into the tub behind Ryan. He turns his head grinning as I get my arms around him with my chest against his back. I just want to hug him for being my lifeline in Georgia. I love him in my way even though I know it's not his preferred way, but it's something I take seriously. We're like this without speaking for two minutes, no washing or shampooing, just swaying under the water flow.
Ryan finally turns around in my arms and we hug chest to check for a second. It's like we realize we need each other, maybe even desperately. Then he murmurs, "Just stand there." He shampoos my hair and washes my entire body slowly with me just standing here in a trance. When I'm washed and rinsed he smacks my ass, "Now get outta here before you make us late." I dry myself
smiling and feeling very contended at the moment. Reaching back feeling my ass as if that's how I can tell if it hurts or not. The hurt's inside, not outside, and it actually isn't feeling too bad. By the time I'm dressed Ryan's coming out of the bathroom drying himself. He drops the towel and gets dressed. He's in a serious mood now, so I don't talk. I pack up his clothes, grab my duffle bag and hump everything to the car. Back in the room Ryan's looking in a mirror trying to get his pompadour just right. Finally he goes, "Dylan, fix this damn pompadour," handing me the comb. I think that's so cute and sweet I kiss him on the lips, then comb his hair. He looks at the mirror again, muttering, "How come I can't do that?" He smacks my ass, "Let's go, barber, we'll get some coffee." Waiting for the elevator I ask, "We gonna get breakfast?" He shakes his head, "No, just coffee, I can't eat anything." There's complimentary coffee in the lobby so we make ourselves take-out cups of coffee and drink it outside smoking a cigarette. Ryan asks, "Do you remember everything I told you?" I nod my head suppressing a grin and trying to look serious. I'm feeling very close to Ryan right now though so I give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek, mumbling, "You've done all you can to prepare me, Albert." He smiles, saying, "It's so cool how much you're into me, Dylan," I go, "Can't help myself, Albert." Huh, I can't even count the number of times he's said that about me over the last two years, and it's basically a brag on his part, and partially a projection of his wishes too. Of course he doesn't mean it that way, and anyway I am into him although it's not necessarily what he thinks or wishes. We get in the car with Ryan driving and now he's back to his old habit of extremely cautious driving, apparently infuriating the drivers behind us if I can go by the number of horns we're hearing. I say nothing because this is Ryan's show from here on out.
We pass the 'Welcome to Marietta' sign at the town line in forty minutes, and as we cruise through Ryan's neighborhood I notice, unlike the newer big houses in the Boston suburbs, these large homes have lots of ground around them. Ryan's very quiet and tense so I'm quiet and tense too, although it's stupid of us. What, are his parents monsters? Ryan says, "There it is, Dylan," and he turns onto a driveway past open iron gates. The house is way back from the street looking impressive from here. Not Willie's mansion 'impressive', but impressive. Along both sides of the house there are many big trees and large sculptured shrubbery. In between the shrubbery and the street is a large lawn. The lawn widens, curving out away from the house, then curving back in towards the driveway entrance. I'm guess the lawn's fifty yards wide at the widest point and maybe sixty yard from front to back. Huh, Ryan said we need to cut the grass without mentioning this golf course size lawn.
Twenty feet in front of the house the driveway splits and branches off to the right, going down to a three car garage I can see from here. To the left the driveway circles an island of elaborate low landscaped area with both flowering and evergreen shrubbery. There are flagstone paths meandering around the shrubbery. The driveway reconnects on the other side of the island before exiting the property. Two modest pillars on either side of the eight foot square entranceway leading to a double front doors. Over the entrance is a balcony with fancy railings. It's a very tall house, obviously three floors. There's elaborate molding around the many large windows at the front of the house, plus three dormer windows sticking out on the third floor, like three little houses with A-frame roofs. The main roof looks like it's slate or some manmade composite that looks like dark gray slate. Aside from the window moldings, the exterior is exclusively a pale tan stucco. Ryan says, "It was built in 1998, so it's no where near as old as it looks. The house is supposed to be a European design built for privacy by some rich guy who hit it big during the dot-com crazy days. He had to sell it when everything collapsed." I go, "Just like Lyle was talking about, huh?" He shrugs, "I guess. Dad says he bought the house below market value because the previous owner had to sell it fast."
He parks in front of the third garage door, and after taking two deep breaths, he mutters, "Leave the luggage and follow me." Ryan looks apprehensive as hell, like he's going to have his molars removed, and you know what... I say, fuck it! All of a sudden I'm not intimidated at all, but I want it to go well for my little buddy here so I'll stick with the program the best I
can. I follow him to a side entrance, he stands there, asking me, "How do I look?' Then he straightens his shirt that didn't need straightening, as I say, "You look awesome, Albert," he grins, shakes his head for some reason, then opens the door and I follow him in. I'm kind of interested now. We walk into a nice little room where Ryan mumbles, "This is the mud room." The floor is some kind of tile, large dull red tiles about a foot square each. There's nice wallpaper on the walls, a number of hooded raincoats and rubber boots, all neatly placed on shelves or hanging on hooks. To my right is a porcelain double sink with fancy curving spigots and kitchen cabinets over the sinks, but no mud. He opens the next door that leads into a short hall to a huge kitchen, a kitchen most restaurant would be happy to have. This kitchen compares to the Worthington's although in Willie's house it's separate from where meals are served.
A man and a woman are sitting at opposite ends of a kitchen table that seats eight. The table sits in a part of the kitchen separated from the cooking area by a four foot high brick wall with ivy growing from planers embedded in the top. At Willie's house this table would be for the cooks and servers. There are no cooks or servers here. The man's reading the Wall Street Journal with a cup of coffee in front of him. He lowers the newspaper to look at us. The woman has a china cup of something in front of her as she nibbles at the point end of a slice of toasted raisin bread that's cut catty-corner. I'm gonna take a wild stab at it, and say these are Ryan's parents. We stand here as they both look at us. There's an awkward one second silence before Ryan says, "I'm home," and the woman says, "So you are, Albert, come and give your mother a kiss." He walks over and bends down so they can have a stiff hug with Ryan kissing her on the cheek. Considering her hairdo, makeup, fancy dress, and the string of pearls around her neck she must be going to a cocktail party a few minutes after ten on a Saturday morning. The man says, "How do, kiddo. Punctual as always. This is your, um, friend, huh?" Ryan stands straight, his right hand towards me, palm up, "This is Dylan Newman, my best friend and classmate at college." His mother frowns, "Dylan? Is that his first or last name?" Ryan says, "It's his first name! He's Dylan Newman." The mother goes, "Humpth, that's not his first name if he expects to live in my house. Is that still your plan, Albert?" Then she looks at her husband, asking, "Junior, did we give the okay for this when Albert was home last? When was that?" Mr. Wilcox does a long sigh, "It was a few weeks ago, darling, during the boy's spring break from college. And yes we did say it was fine. This handsome young man will be working for Albert on our summer project." He said all that as if it's so boring he can barely bring himself to say the words.
She shrugs her shoulders, muttering, "Oh, will I never hear the end of your conversations about business? Don't bring your work home with you, Junior, I don't ask for much." She gives Ryan and me a smirky 'look' that coveys, well I don't know what it conveys. Then, with finality in her voice, she goes, "Alright, but I'd feel foolish calling someone, 'Dylan', or introducing
you to someone at church saying, 'This is Albert's friend, Dylan'. You'll need to have a different name." When she says 'Dylan' she exaggerates both syllables making it sound like something goofy. My face gets red as I blush and hate on myself for not saying something, but I promised Ryan I'd try my best to have this go smoothly. He's at his spot next to me, not saying anything either, but he has an expression on his face of disbelief and shock. Guess his mother can still surprise him with something outlandish he never expected, and Mr. Wilcox is staring at this nonsense with a bemused expression, apparently already having said all he's going to on the matter. Mrs. Wilcox is totally nonplus sipping from her china tea cup. She puts it down, nodding her longish head at me, asking, "What's your middle name, we'll use that." I don't have one, but I make one up on the spur of the moment without giving it any thought, "It's Daniel," Ryan give me a glance as he and I remain standing in the same spot we stood when we walked in. No one's invited us to sit down and have some coffee, or tea maybe, or some raisin toast.
A surprised look on her face that I'm guessing implies she's pleased about something... the name maybe. She gets up and comes over to me, "Let me see. Yes, you are a Daniel." She's almost as tall as me, standing right in front of me, "Oh my-my, you are a good looking boy aren't you, but why do you wear your hair so short?" I say, "Albert like it like this," and some color drains from her face, while the father looks up like he interested in this conversation. Then I add, "He gives me haircuts, the kind he wants me to have." She looks at Ryan who stares blankly back at her, not quite defiantly, but he's standing his ground, which he probably doesn't do very often with mommy dearest. She looks at her husband now, and he gives her the bemused look, so she looks at Ryan again, asking, "Why do you cut his hair so short? He has beautiful hair to go with his beautiful face." Ryan says, "Private reasons, mother, but I won't always give him this type of haircut. Just for the summer and then I'll decide or another style." She makes a 'face' like she finds this incomprehensible. Finally she asks me, "And this is alright with you?" I say, "Yes, ma'am, it is."
She holds her hands near her head, palms out, saying to her husband, "Boys! I've never understood them?" Mr. Wilcox has lost interest and he's back reading the financial section of the Wall Street Journal. Looking as if she's flustered, she says, "Sit, both of you." I let Ryan sit first then I sit in a seat to his left, away from his mother. She points at me, "You, down here," as she pats the place next to her, across the table from Ryan. I get up and walk around the table keeping a neutral expression on my face. This is both fucking amusing and weirdly interesting, with emphasis on the 'weird' part. She looks right at me, and says, "Humor me young man, and for this summer we'll use your middle name and you'll be, 'Daniel', and she pats my wrist, adding, "You look like a Daniel, the same way Albert looks like an Albert. Don't you agree?" I look at him ready to say, 'Nobody looks like an Albert except Einstein' but Ryan does a tiny head shake and I remember him telling me his parents don't appreciate humor that might be misconstrued as being a 'smart-ass' remark, so I keep the smirk off my face, look back at her and say, "Yes, ma'am." She pats my wrist again and I smile like a good boy while having another smart-ass thought: she doesn't like the name 'Dylan', but calling her fifty year old husband 'Junior' doesn't bother her at all.
Ryan sits quietly as his mother takes another tiny bite of her raisin toast, then asks me, "Did you bring a suit for church, Daniel?" I say, "Yes, ma'am," and she looks at Ryan, saying as if she's surprised, "He's very polite, isn't he?" Ryan smiles, but still says nothing, so I don't either. She does a theatrical sigh, and says, "Okay, everyone agrees, we'll call, what was it...?" Ryan says, "Dylan," and she goes, "Yes, we'll call this lovely boy,
Daniel. That's a favorite Biblical name of mine because of the Hebrew Bible's Daniel who was taken in Babylonian captivity," then she points a finger at me, emphatically saying, "But Daniel never converted to their barbaric religion. I'm sure you know the story." She looks at me and I smile like a dunce, uninformed about anyone being in Babylonian captivity. She goes on like she's talking to a five year old, "From your Bible studies, I'm sure you'll recall Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego..." I look confused, so she adds, "The writing on the wall, and Daniel in the lion's den, surely...." Ryan's blushing, perhaps embarrassed that his mother's playing the religion card already. Anyway, I think I have heard of those three guys so I smile at his mother again, nodding my head, saying, "Yes, of course, and Daniel is a nice name too, isn't it, Mrs. Wilcox? She goes, "Yes, indeed it is," looking very pleased with my name change, saying to Ryan, "Ask Daniel if he'd like something to drink, or some breakfast. Do you have any cereal left from the last time you were home, Albert?."
I'm trying not to grin as Ryan formally asks, "Could I get anything for you, Daniel?" I say, "Why thank you, Albert, yes I'd love some coffee," and laid-back Mr. Wilcox says, "Another cup for me too, son." While Ryan's doing that, Mrs. Wilcox leans towards me asking in a bit of a conspiracy whisper, "Did you put this nonsense of homosexuality into my Albert's head?" I go, "No ma'am, I believe Albert's had been gay for a number of years before I had the pleasure of meeting him." I'm thinking of adding, 'He's quite experienced! He was fucking me up the ass not an hour and a half ago getting a huge climax out of me and then he made me suck his cock clean. I loved it.' But I don't say that, and I didn't suck his cock afterwards anyway, so that'd be a lie. She asks, "Well then, did he put it into your head?" I go, "No, ma'am, I was born this way," and she mutters, "Such rubbish. I've talked to our minister about this and Albert has an appointment with Revered Martin after Sunday services tomorrow. You, Daniel, will attend the lecture as well. I want to get this cleared up as soon as possible. Did you bring your Bible with you?" I shake my head, "No ma'am, I did not," and she says, "You boys are such air heads. You can use one of Albert's. He gets a new Bible every birthday." Huh, a Bible and a Mini Cooper for his birthday, not a bad haul.
As soon as we have our coffee, Mrs. Wilcox gets a phone call. She answers it, then holds the phone to her breast, saying, "I'll need to chat more with you two boys later." They have land lines and cordless telephones. Mrs. Wilcox answered the one in the kitchen and she's taking it with her as she walks out of the room talking and laughing with someone. She has a nice sincere laugh. Okay, she's sort of stuck in her ways and kooky, but I don't think she's evil. Different worlds, different generations and backgrounds. Poor Ryan though, very little demonstration of affection between him and his parents. Ya know, that could just as easily have developed over the years because Ryan didn't want to be affectionate. After puberty teen boys often feel uncomfortable about showing affection, or they feel it's too babyish. Not all teenagers certainly, plus Ryan being gay perhaps had his mind fucked-up more than the average teen. Teens in general have enough problems with their changing bodies and such, even without dealing with the idea they're also gay. We drink our coffee with Ryan giving me the thumbs-up for this morning's meet and greet with his parents, but there's almost no talking now that Mrs. Wilcox has left the room. Mr. Wilcox reads his paper apparently very comfortable not saying anything. I'm dying for a cigarette and I get my chance when Mr. Wilcox stands up, saying to me, 'Excuse us, please. I need to talk with Albert in the library. Get more coffee if you'd like, Daniel." He smirked in a friendly way when he said my new name. I ask, "Is it okay if I smoke a cigarette outside?" He says, "That's where I smoke mine, son. Why don't you walk around and get familiar with the grounds." I go, "Thank you, sir," and he grins, "Are you always this formally polite, or has Albert been teaching you our ways?" I blush and Ryan, a bit defiantly, says, "Dylan's a gentleman, father, I didn't need to teach him anything." His father looks at Ryan sternly, apparently not used to that tone of voice. He glances at me like I might be responsible for Ryan's impertinent tone, but he holds his tongue. I saw Ryan's demeanor change from confidently sticking up for me, to one of cringing when his father gave him that 'look'.
Rolling my eyes, I leave them to it without a clue what his father needs to tell Ryan in the library that he couldn't tell him in the kitchen. Retracing my steps through the so-called mud room, and then out the same side door we came in, I mutter to myself, "Whoa, good to be outside," and breath in the rather humid hot air. I light a cigarette thinking it went about as pretty well as it could have, everything considered. Walking past the three car garage there's a beautifully landscaped garden with a gazebo that I take a seat in and smoke my cigarette thinking about Ryan's parents. I didn't expect to be thinking about them in this way though. There's almost zero chance Ryan is their birth child. He's gotta be adopted, or it was a miracle of gene combination that produced a child without a single feature of either parent. Ryan's slight of build and only five foot, seven inches at the most. Mr. Wilcox is six feet, five inches, or maybe even a little taller, and his mother's my height which is a inch and a half under six feet. Ryan has light brown hair and his father has jet black hair, getting gray at the temples. His mother has black hair or it's extremely dark brown. Okay, maybe he skipped a generation with hair color, but they look so different it's inconceivable he's their natural child. His father has large facial features, and nothing on his mother's face reappears on Ryan's, nothing! They're so different in appearance anyone could see he's not theirs. Not that being adopted is a problem, not unless Ryan doesn't know he's adopted. Ryan fantasizes they dote on him so it's not much of a stretch that he'd rationalize away the fact he's doesn't look anything like either of them. If he were black it wouldn't be much more obvious. Naturally I intend keeping my opinion to myself about this, but I am curious about it.
After my smoke I wander around puzzled by his parents interaction with one another, or better put, they're lack of interaction. It's like they share the same house but live separate lives. I guess that's not all that unheard of in marriages. Then I stop and ask myself, 'When did I become a detective, and what business is it of mine anyway?' Yeah, that's true except it might partially have something to do with Ryan being a little messed up in the head about his self image all these years. I hear, "Hey, Daniel, wait up!" Hearing him call me 'Daniel' makes me grin. Fuck, this is nuts. Ryan catches up with me smelling the back of his hand and looking unhappy. "What's wrong, Ryan?" He looks up at me with red eyes like he's been crying, and snaps at me, "Call me Albert! How many times do I need to fucking tell you that?" I step back, and he goes, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," and he leans against me for a hug, "What is it, Albert, what's wrong?" He says, "We can't share the same bedroom. You've got the attic bedroom." I mutter, "The attic?" and he lets go of me, saying defensively, "It's big up there, I wanted that for my bedroom when we moved in, but I couldn't talk them into it. You'll like it up there." I mumble, "Yeah, I'm sure I will, but I was looking forward to sleeping with you." He goes, "Me too, but my father doesn't want any, um, unnatural sex in his house. We will do it anyway of course, fuck him." I'm frowning, "How are we gonna do that?" He says, "I'm the only one who knows this, but there are back stairs I can use to go up to the third floor. We'll need to do a little carpentry work first because the entrance was boarded over before we moved in. The first step to the back staircase for the third floor is in my closet, boarded over. Obviously the closet was added after the house was built. I only found the stairs from wandering around the unfinished part of the attic. I've done a lot of lonely wandering around since we moved here." Oh great, lonely wandering around... that makes me feel cheery, the poor kid.
Ryan says, "Before we do anything we've got to get your suit to the dry cleaners for church tomorrow. There's a three hour dry cleaners downtown. Ryan drives as I dump everything out of my duffle bag in the back seat. I get my suit, the two dress shirts that Willie bought me, my two pairs of skinny khakis, and my two button-down-the-front shirts. The other stuff are shorts and t-shirts, underwear, socks, whatever. Ryan parks right in front of the cleaners and I bring my stuff in and put it on the counter. An Asian woman
checks my stuff in hitting keys on a computer as I ask, "Can I have these things in three hours?" She nods her head and I think she said, 'yes'. The computer pumps out the ticket and she hands it to me. I'm walking out the door gawking at the check. It's for $122.00, what the fuck? Handing it to Ryan, "Look at this," and he goes, "Yeah, the three hour service is double the normal costs." Balls! I get in the car and Ryan drives us back to his house with me frowning and fuming, then grinning thinking what my true love, tightwad Robby's, reaction would be with a dry cleaning bill like this one, ha ha. Love me some Robby Dickers. One suit, two long sleeve shirts, two short sleeve shirts, and two khakis, a $122.00.
At Ryan's house we get out of the Mini and light cigarettes with me asking, "Is that all your father wanted to tell you, that we can't share a bedroom?" He shakes his head, "No, he want us to swear on the Bible we won't do anything he wouldn't do, meaning he wouldn't have sex with another male. He couldn't even say the words 'homosexual' or 'gay'." Hmmm, I don't like the way this is headed, but for now I hold my tongue because Ryan's upset enough about the sleeping arrangement. He hugs me around the waist now, saying, "You were so perfect this morning, Daniel," and I laugh at the way he glanced at me with a grin when he said, 'Daniel'. Then he chuckles, and goes, "Daniel, like in the lion's den." I go, "Yeah, he must have been a bad-ass dude, huh?" Ryan looks serious, "Don't joke about anything to do with the Bible, okay?" I shrug, "Whatever, I'm not disrespectful, my family isn't real religious that's all, but hey, Chubby and I went to Sunday school a few times when we were little kids." He frowns at that, maybe thinking I'm making another joke about religion, which isn't how I meant it. I go, "Some people are religious, and that's fine, and others aren't and that's fine too." We're out of sight of the house when Ryan says, "Never mind that, I need a hug and a kiss, Dylan," and we do a three minute make-out with our hands all over each other, both of us with boners in our pants. He says, "We're definitely gonna be doing what my father wouldn't do, so don't worry about that." Oh yeah, and that'll to be some relaxed sex right there alright. Oh man, the one 'constant' I thought I had, sex with Ryan, is on life support now.
We go inside and Ryan gives me a tour of the house with me asking, "Did your father say anything else when you two were in the library?" Ryan goes, "He liked my GPA score and gave me two one-hundred dollar bills." Ryan pulls them out and shows me two crisp hundred dollar bills. I shrug, and ask, "What else?" Ryan rubs my shoulder, "Well, he likes that I give you the haircut, ones I decide for you. He said that shows some leadership potential he hadn't noticed in me before. Oh, and he said you're an extremely good looking boy. He calls us boys. Hell, fifty year old men in the south refer to each other as boys too." I'm like, "What else did he say?" and Ryan smells the back of his wrist, thinking, then says, "He says you charmed my mom, and he's never thought a boy could do that, and he likes you too. He likes how polite and clean cut and good looking you are." I go, "Huh," and Ryan excitedly goes on, "I told dad you were my boyfriend and that you and me have agreed I'm the one in-charge." I reluctantly nod my head, but I'm happy Ryan's getting some respect from his father, even if it's at my expense. Then I'm intrigues with the 'charmed' part, asking, "So why does you dad think I charmed your mom?" He shrugs, "He didn't say. Usually they're good-looking older men who charm mother." I'm like, "Really? I charmed her though, huh?" and he adds, "That's what he said, and I think it's because of all the preparation I put you through." I go, "Huh, so you're taking all the credit then?" He squeezes the back of my neck, grinning, "Oh, okay, you can have a little bit of the credit, Daniel." I mess his hair, and he goes, "You charmed my mother in twenty minutes, and I haven't been able to do that in twenty years." Yeah well I thought Chubby would charm Ryan's parent's in an hour and that I'd never be able to do it at all, and then I did it in twenty minutes. Of course I had to agree to a name change, and I'll need to go to a lecture on being homosexual with the minister after church services on Sunday, but still...
Continuing our tour I count, including the attic bedroom and it's really nice up there, five bedrooms and five and a half baths. I've got my own bathroom too, yeah! The house is over 7000 square feet of living space, not including the huge basement with half of it finished as a game room although Ryan says it gets very little use. The house was custom built with a gated entrance for privacy. There are three big fireplaces which get used in January mostly, but it gets chilly in December and February too. The kitchen's fantastic and there's a media room and everywhere it's beautifully and tastefully furnished and decorated, every room, including the attic bedroom. After saying all that, Willie's mansion is far larger and more expensively furnished, and about as cozy as a setting in an expensive window display. Ryan's house has more of a lived in feel to it, not that I'm dissing Willie's house, they're just different. One is owned by someone who's very well-off financially, and the other is owned by someone with inherited money that grows faster that their exorbitant spending can match.
After the tour of the house, Ryan shows me his motorbike in the garage. It's similar size-wise to Sonny's, but that where the comparison ends. Ryan's bike is a very tough-looking Yamaha FZ-09 Sports Bike and just looks 'bad' as in good. He proudly sits on the bike looking very cool himself. He says, "This bike is powerful with a 3-cylinder engine. Ya wanna take a ride?" I go, "Yeah, sure," and he gets off to get two very cool helmets from the garage. I'm like, "Holy shit, Albert, these are cool looking," and I put one on. Ryan says, "That's mine, but you can wear if you want." I'm like, "This feels awesome on my head, really comfortable. What's a helmet like this cost?" He goes, "They're both Aria Chaser V helmets that cost over seven hundred dollars each." I mutter, "Jesus," and ogle his bike some more, still wearing the helmet. The bike's mostly black with two dark yellow rods in front and dark blue strips around the rim of each tire. It has the one sloping seat so the guy sitting in back doesn't have much choice, he or she is gonna be tight up against the driver's ass. I got no problem with that. He says, "Ya know what? Come with me, I've got cool clothes to wear when riding this bad motherfucker." We go through the house and upstairs to Ryan's big bedroom, where there are all the electronic gear I'd expect him to have. Ha, I can see why he'd spent so much time hanging out in here.
Ryan digs in his closet coming out with light-weight long skinny black jeans, but not denim, some other material. He goes, "I'll wear these, you'll need to wear these," and he holds up skinny black cargo shorts made from the same lightweight miracle fabric as his pants. We wear black Yamaha t-shirts. Ryan puts ob black Chuck Taylor Converse retro sneakers, while I'm stuck with my high top Nikes. He holds up a cool black motorcycle jacket that's light as a feather, more miracle fabric, although it looks like leather. He puts it on saying, "Sorry, I just have one of these," and we troop downstairs and out to the garage. Putting on our helmets, I ask, "Where we gonna ride, Albert?" As he gets on his bike and fires it up with a deep rumbling sound that screams bad-ass, he says, "We'll ride to the plant. See where we're gonna be working. Get on behind me and hold on." I loosely hold onto his narrow hips, and we take off. It's soon apparent that as cautious as he is behind the wheel of a car, he's the opposite on a motorbike. His first turn is taken so sharply the bike and the two of us are leaning dangerously to the right. He straightens the bike and we roar off.
Ryan's passes cars, cutting in-between them, and generally drives like a daredevil on this two lane road. I'm soon hugging him for dear life. His body feels sexy and he's acting sexy riding this motorbike recklessly. After ten minutes I have confidence in his ability to operate this hot machine and that makes me feel good for him, good that he's this cool on his motorbike.
It's a powerful machine for real, and when he accelerates the front wheel comes off the road temporarily. Fifteen minutes into a hellava ride and he comes screeching to a stop at a big sign announcing, LOCKHEED-MARTIN AEROSPACE, and a smaller sign, 'Authorized Personnel Only'. Ryan pulls up to the gated guard house and shows ID on a lanyard around his neck I'm just not noticing. The guard does a half-ass salute, saying, "You're Mr. Wilcox's son, huh?" Ryan goes, "Yes, sir," and they shake hands, "Nice to meet you, Albert." The guard looks at a list on the clipboard he's holding, glances over and smiles, "You're working here this summer I see." Ryan nods at the guy, "Yes, sir, me and my friend here." The guard says, "Welcome aboard," the gate comes up, Ryan nods his head again, then leaves rubber with the mufflers growling and we're off. He slows down and comes to a stop behind the large complex with loading docks stretching for maybe fifty feet. Reaching into his pocket he hands me my ID and I put it around my neck with a puzzled expression. Ryan explains, "Dad gave me both our ID badges in the library," I'm like, "How they get my picture?" He says, "Hop off first, Daniel," I do that and he gets off tapping my ID badge with the back of his finger, saying, "My dad knew you'd be here this summer. It's Mom that's in her own little world. Anyway I gave him your picture and pertinent information at spring break so they could do a background check and then issue your badge." If only Ryan had told me this earlier I'd have been less apprehensive. His father was fully on board for almost a month now, damn...
Ryan, says, "Come over here, this is the door we'll use. Have to show ID again each morning." When he's got a cigarette going, he says, "Um, there is something else dad told me in the library earlier. I need to meet with my immediate supervisor at two o'clock today right here. My boss's name is Josh. He's giving me a four hour orientation about my responsibilities as supervisor of our equipment verification unit. I'm also gonna meet the five guys who will be working for me. Just an introduction so we know each other for the first day of work on Monday." I say, "Okay, but I'm one of the five," Ryan shrugs, "You're the sixth, but we don't need an introduction, so you don't have to waste time here on a Saturday afternoon." I'm like, "But what will I do?" He says, "Anything you want. You can take my Mini and check out the area, or stay in my room and play with my toys. Just don't steal anything," and he punches my arm lightly so I'll knows he's kidding," I go, "Can't I stay with you, Albert," and I guess that sounded a little whinny. He gives me a one arm hug, "Sure ya can. I thought you'd rather avoid four boring hours. Except you won't be with me most of the time, it'll just be Josh teaching me what I'll need to do. The introduction is like ten minutes with
my guys, the rest of the time I'll be with Josh." Trying not to whine, I go, "I wanna stay with you." He shrugs and we get back on the motorbike and Ryan roars away. What is it with guys on motorbikes anyhow? Sonny and his friend, and now Ryan of all people, go wild on motorbikes.
Guess I'm desperate not to be left in his house alone, so I yell in Ryan's ear over the roar of the muffler, "I'll read a book while waiting for you." He shakes his head a little chuckling probably because he's never seen me read a book. He yells, "You want to come with me and read a book for four hours, it's okay with me, Daniel. I'll come out and hold your hand if I get the chance." He's trying to make a joke out of my insecurity. I tighten my arms around him, yelling, "I'm depending on that, Albert." He smiles, then jokes, "Oh man, I love that you're depending on me. I'll try not to take too much advantage of that." It's only twelve-thirty so we've got an hour and a half before going back to the plant. I think of lunch, yelling in Ryan's ear, "Are we expected for lunch?" He shakes his head and then we're in town and he slows down to the speed limit. We ride down the main street of the downtown area a half mile, then he parks in front of a sub shop. We go in and order cold Italian subs. Waiting for them at a table, Ryan says, "We never have a lunch together at my house. When someone wants something they fix it themselves. Mother only cooks dinner. By the way dinner's at seven o'clock sharp every day of the week and ya better have a bulletproof excuse if you're late." After sub-shop lunch Ryan takes us on a nice long ride over back roads where he really let's that beast out to like ninety-five miles an hour. It's fun and scary, and frankly I didn't think Ryan had the balls for it. I was wrong.
We get back at his house in time to clean up and take the Mini to pick up my stuff at the dry cleaners, then to the plant for Ryan's four hour training session, the last ten minutes of which we'll meet the other five members of his work crew and see who I'll be working with. I'm wondering what those five crew members will be like. Maybe older men, or maybe some hot and cute young guys like on Robby's crew last summer. I know none of them are going to be women because Ryan told me so, and it's because some heavy lifting is involved. Well, I've experienced Robby as a boss, he was awesome. Monday I'll see how Ryan handles it.
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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