Dylans Junior Year Summer

DYLAN'S SUMMER FOLLOWING HIS COLLEGE JUNIOR YEAR

Chapter 36

by Donny Mumford

So far this night hasn't lifted my spirits a helluva lot! Theodore Smiley, the Junior Auxiliary Policeman, certainly didn't help matters any, and then there's been no Charlie-sighting either. Oh hell, I'm not expecting him to be here. We never texted after last summer so my bad for not following-up.

Walking the two-mile Boardwalk from one end to the other, doing some guy-watching as I'm walking, I didn't encounter a single age-appropriate guy who I felt was a potential person-of-interest. Of course there were some guys who I thought were cute, good-looking, or sexy. The problem is either their age was wrong or they were obvious 'straight' so that disqualified all of them from being, um, a guy to make eye contact with, I guess. Even though the guys are sexy-cute there's no sense in messing around with teenagers who may or may not be at least eighteen, or guys with their arm around a girl.

Screw it though, I'm resigned to being like most everyone else who goes through a week's vacation without experiencing any side-sex opportunities, and in all honesty, I'm okay with that. I don't really care all that much anymore. I mean I'm already four-days into a barren-sex-period and I'm not climbing the walls or anything. It is what it is...

Yeah, but now I've been sitting on this bench across from Al's Hot Dog Shop for fifteen-minutes and only occasionally glancing at the parade going by me. Ya know, it's just not the same anymore somehow. Not that this is something new for me overall. I've been on a downward spiral, side-sex-wise, for the past year or so. A gradual decreasing of opportunities, or is it me simply not being as receptive to possibilities as I once was. Random sex is a frivolous and basically harmless endeavor that requires a motivated individual to be alert to possibilities and then ya gotta have the gumption to follow through and I think I've lost my gumption.

And ya know, I'm just about sick of sitting here on this fucking bench! If one more little kid steps on my foot or touches my person with a sticky hand I'm gonna scream! And it's getting late so why aren't these parents getting their youngsters to bed? Jesus!

Noooo, I'm not being grouchy or feeling sorry for myself even though it might seem like I am. It's more a case of simply being temporarily bored. Huh, I can't ever recall being bored in Wildwood before. During my casual walk down to this end of the Boardwalk I did run into a guy from Framingham who I sort of know, but I couldn't remember from where. We stopped and did the, 'Hey, what the hell are you doing here, dude?' followed by a minute of mindless chatter before moving on. It was a bit of a shock seeing someone here from Massachusetts because everyone there goes on vacation at the Cape, or New Hampshire, or further north like Maine... not south to New Jersey! So, both of us were legitimately surprised to see one another here. Oh yeah, we called one another 'dude' because neither of us could remember the other guy's name. Ha, it wasn't just me for a change.

And then I ran into two guys I know from Merrimack College. One guy I even remembered his name, Steve-something. At least that's what I called him. It's like I was so proud of myself remembering someone's name I emphasized it, saying, "Steve! Dude, what the fuck you doing here?" He didn't correct me on the 'Steve' part so I must have gotten it right. We talked for a few minutes about Merrimack and then the other guy finally pointing at me, asking, "Hey, weren't you in Professor Ditricks' E-Commerce course?" I was like, "Oh shit, dude, yeah! That was a Maximum-Strength No-Doz course right after lunch." He goes, "You got that right!" Fuck, I don't remember him at all. Steve told me he lives in New York and the other, the nameless guy, lives here in New Jersey. They're roommates at Merrimack. Anyway, Wildwood for both of them is their normal summer vacation spot.

So yeah, I had options tonight. I could have hooked-up with any of those guys except all three of them are obviously straight and after three-minutes with them I was so bored I thought my teeth might fall out. I only met the three people I recognized but meeting three guys I sort of know out of the twenty-to-thirty-thousand people on this Boardwalk is amazing actually... for all the good it did me.

Anyway, I guess it's getting about that time to walk the two-mile back to the other end of the Boardwalk. That's where this year's summer rental is located and what a beauty that place is! I'm gonna be further disappointed if I don't run into Chubby. I really could use a morale boost and nobody boost my morale better than Chubby. If his cellphone was charged it'd be a snap to hook-up with him but Chub and cellphones aren't always simpatico.

Damn, I need to take a wicked piss too. That's some serious motivation for me getting off this bench. I get up and dodge a couple of overactive fourteen-year-old girls with the giggles, and then begin quickly walking back to the public lavatory I passed when walking down here. Why is it when you need to take a piss, the closer you get to the toilet the stronger and stronger the need to piss becomes? I sort of needed to 'go' for the last half-hour and now that I'm doing something about it I can hardly fucking hold it in! And why, all of a sudden, is everyone going in the opposite direction I'm going in?

Staying close to the railing I walk back the way I came and soon see the sign for 'PUBLIC LAVATORY' with an arrow pointing down the steps to a building on the beach. From past years I happen to know it's more than just a lavatory; it's a combination lavatory and Beach Patrol Supply building. I once had side-sex in the supply side of the building. Yeah, heh heh, things like that used to happen for me regularly.

Stopping at the top of the steps, I'm like, 'Can I believe this shit?' It looks like there's a sign on the door of the lavatory that reads, 'OUT OF ORDER'. Well, the sign is flat on the door so I can't see anything but the word, 'OUT'. What else could it be saying though? Out to lunch? I'll check to be sure and, after looking around to see if anyone is making a bee-line for these steps, hoping maybe I'll get lucky and have the lavatory all to myself I start down the steps. Halfway down the steps I can see the sign does state, 'OUT OF ORDER'. I knew it would but didn't want to believe it... and then the door swings open.

The door swing towards me standing on the steps and slamming against the side of the building, BAM! Out comes a boy who may be eighteen or nineteen. He's a tad pudgy with longish dark hair. Another guy is right behind him pushing the door so it again slams into the side of the building and then the second kid kicks the first kid in the ass with the first kid whining, "Ya don't need to kick me. I did what you wanted."

I'm staring with my mouth open, thinking, 'Did that bully just fuck the other kid?' I mean, what else could I think? I squint my eyes, thinking again, 'Can I believe this shit?' because the second kid is Theodore Smiley! He's still wearing his uniform of course, plus his dumb-ass backpack with nothing in it, or at least it looks empty.

Both of the boys turned away from me when they came out of the lavatory so they don't know I'm standing here on the steps in the shadows. Theodore tries to kick the kid in the ass again but his foot misses as the kid stumbles and almost falls in the sand, saying, "Don't, please!" Fucking Theodore is a stone-cold-prick! I knew it from my earlier confrontation with him. Officious little prick, but I'm not getting involved.

Actually, I'm shocked to have run into this diminutive Theodore-nut again considering all the people on the Boardwalk. This prick is definitely dealing with a serious 'Napoleon' complex. I mean, he's exhibited overly-aggressive, overly confident, and domineering behavior both with me earlier and now with this pudgy kid. A Napoleon Complex is what little guys like Theodore can sometimes adopt to try rationalizing away the fact that they're smaller than your average house pet. On the plus side I see Theodore has a really cute ass, for a macho midget I mean.

Theodore gets a fistful of the kid's hair at the back of his head and pulls the kid's back against his chest, saying, "Stop whining, Lee! You'll get used to doing it." He lets go of Lee and, as Lee's rearranging his longish hair, he mutters, "No I won't," and then he takes three steps away from Theodore, and who can blame him. He tries to grin, saying, "Can I go now, um, Sir?" Did he say, 'Sir'? Theodore's not grinning though, as he goes, "Yeah, get your ass back up on the 'boards' right now and find me tomorrow on the beach!"

From the moment the door slammed-open until right now it's been less than a minute. Everything happened bang-bang-bang and now I'm wondering why the fuck am I just standing here? Why don't I have a little fun busting Theodore's chops. That is after I take a wicked piss. Obviously, the lavatory isn't out-of-order since they just came out of it. I start walking down the last six-steps and, hearing me do that they both turn around looking startled. Ha ha, caught both you naughty boys! And fuck you, Theodore, I'm gonna tell... ha ha. Nah, I don't say any of that.

With a smirking-smile on my face what I do say, maybe a tad too arrogantly, is, "G'evening, Office Smiley. Apprehend a criminal there in the lavatory, did ya?" He gives me a stern 'look' and then says to Lee, "Go on, get outta here," and Lee scampers up the steps passing me without looking at me. Hopping off the bottom step, feeling cocky for having just caught Mister Officious Junior cop in an awkward situation, I go, "Patrolling the public bathrooms? Is that your assignment tonight, Officer?"

Seemingly not the least bit concerned with me he turns his back and pulls the 'out-of-order' sign off the door and then holds it out, saying to me, "Put this in my backpack." He wants me to do him a favor after all the shit he gave me back at the renovated Boardwalk area? Of all the balls!

I can't believe he's not blushing with embarrassment after being caught abusing a lad he just had sex with. I mean, even in the extremely unlikely event he didn't just fuck that kid, it sure as shit would appear to an observer, in this case moi, that they were doing something untoward in the lavatory, and with a bogus out-of-order sign on the door. He should be stuttering and trying to explain, right? No way he should be this blasé. I sure as hell wouldn't be!

While trying to figure what's up with that, I take the foot-long magnetized-sign from him and hold it, still cockily smirking at him and expecting some babbling lies about him and that kid, Lee. He ignores my snarky attitude though, and says, "Are you having trouble figuring-out how a backpack works? It's simple, just pull on the Velcro top flap and drop the sign inside." Ballsy little fucker!

Dropping the sign in his backpack, I ask, "So, you and your young friend there. Um, Lee, was it? You two guys were fixing one of the toilets in the lavatory, or...? He turns around giving me a 'hard' look, saying, "I had a problem with you earlier and I let it slide. Don't press you luck. Just go on about your business, or use the facilities if you need to." Omigod, this is a very confident kid here! I gotta admire his demeanor, or is it that he monumentally clueless? Whatever, he apparently has nothing more to say to me as he's now nimbly, almost dancing up the steps. You know, the way a person might do if they just got their 'rocks off'. Damn, ha ha. I kinda wish he'd stayed and helped me get my rocks off. Except for his bird-beak-nose he's kinda cute. He's definitely sassy... heh heh. In the old days I woulda... oh never mind what I would have done in the old days.

I pull open the door and go in the lavatory not expecting anyone to be in here, and there isn't anyone. Oh gawd though, this place smells like disinfectant and, um, vomit. Yuck! There are five urinals, the kind that reach to the floor and are narrow without any shield between them. If five guys were pissing at these urinals you'd see five dicks in a row, assuming you cared to look from the side. Fuck it, even though there's no one in here I use one of the stalls to piss in. Opening the door of one of the two stalls I see the toilet is stopped-up with vomit floating on top of unmentionably disgusting matter under it. Slamming that door, I try the handicapped stall and that door is stuck shut. Fuck!

Okay, no one is here so I'll use a urinal. Urinals are never my first choice of course, especially the kind with no dividers between them. If I don't use something pretty fucking quick though I'm gonna pee my pants. Then its, "Ahhhhh," because it's a relief to pee when you really need to go. I'm feeling especially good about catching the officious Mister Napoleon Complex in an embarrassing situation and giving him a little pay-back for his earlier poor treatment of me.

Ten-seconds into my pee the door opens. Jesus Christ, there's always that one person who needs to 'go' the exact same time I need to 'go'! He couldn't wait one fucking minute until I've finished! It's not a crisis situation for me this time though. I've already started my piss with a damn nice flow going. See, it's the getting started part when guys are pissing around me that can give me problems at times. Priming-the-pump some guy once called it when he saw me standing at a urinal, red-faced and embarrassed, because I couldn't start peeing. I was much younger then of course. Since then I've learned to use the toilet stalls or hold it in until people get the fuck out!

Wait a second though, this asshole who just came in is too close to me. You gotta be shitting me; is this dip-shit intending on using the urinal right next to mine? Nobody does that! I slowly turn my head and see it's Theodore, and he's not taking a piss. He's staring at my face. Well fuck, I've had just about all the shit from this dude I'm gonna take. With a snarl in my voice, I ask, "What the fuck is it with you, Teddy-boy? The tiny bit of power the police gave you gone to your head, is that it?" Unfazed, he says, "Finish what you're doing and I'll want to talk with you outside. Don't be long!" What the ....?

Unable to come-up with an appropriate response to that outrageous comment, I'm like, "Huh...?" but he's out the door already. Is this gonna be some sexual, um, come-on or something? Dammit though, he might be too young! Maybe he's not and, ha ha, I can picture Theodore as sort of Hayden with a Napoleon Complex. Same basic size, body-wise. Heh heh, it's unlikely Theodore is in Hayden's class penis-wise thought. No way!

I'm shaking off the last pee drip and thinking Theodore must have realized I figured-out what he and Lee were doing in the phony 'out-of-order' public bathroom, and since I didn't go on a tirade about it he probably figures I'm interested in a little action myself. No, wait! That doesn't make a whole lot of sense. I mean, if he just fucked that kid, what's-his-name, he couldn't be ready to go again; not in five-minutes!

Oh man, maybe he's pissed that I humiliated him in front of his boyfriend and he might, um... oh fuck, I don't have any idea why he came back. Now that I think about it he never did seemed the slightest humiliated about almost getting caught in the 'act'. Theodore seemed annoyed I showed-up more than anything else.

Washing my hands I can't believe this but, yeah, I'm feel weirdly intimidated. Omigod, why would I feel intimidated by that little turd? Maybe because I'm thinking back to our first encounter and how, um, strangely Theodore was acting as if he knows something I don't. No, it's that whistle and what happens if he blows it?

Jesus, this fucking summer isn't shaping-up so far, ya know? When the hell is it gonna start getting good like all my past summers in Wildwood? All of a sudden, I actually do have a bad feeling about Theodore. I have a sixth sense about bad things that might happen. I mean, this prick doesn't react to anything like you'd expect a normal person to react. Mostly though the bad vibes I'm feeling are because he's connected in some manner with the police... I don't get alone with police very well.

Taking a deep breath, I open the door and Theodore comes right up to me when I'm barely far enough out the door for it to close. He puts his hand on my chest and says, "It occurred to me as I was going back up to the Boardwalk that you were acting awfully smug. Why would that be?" I shrug, "I wasn't acting smug! Seriously though, if I offended you somehow, unknowingly, I apologize for it. Now if you don't mind I'm meeting my brother." He won't move though, so I'm like, "Excuse me, I'll be on my way now." He goes, "Just stay where you are. I wanna know what you were acting smug about."

This is fucking ridiculous! I push his hand away from my chest, saying, "Be careful, Teddy, you're getting way ahead of yourself. Enough is enough, okay?" and I start toward the steps. Oh man, believe it or not but that little prick is intimidating! Fuck, I kinda admire him, I certainly could never pull off his 'act', but like I said to him, enough is enough.

As I go to walk by him he grabs my arm so I yank it away and step towards him and he gets his whistle and blows a long shrill, "Wheeeee, wheeeee!" and then he says, "Go on up the steps and I mean right now. You don't threaten a Wildwood Police Office." I'm like, "Don't be ridiculous, I didn't threaten you! If anything, you've overstepped your bounds, and I mean about a half-dozen times." I wanna add, 'Ya little shit' but this could get tricky, so I don't.

He's pushing my back and now here I am in another 'no-win-zone', so I go up the steps, protesting, "Kindly don't touch me, Teddy, okay? Seriously!" With his hand gripping my shoulder, he says, "You'll know what's serious is in a minute. Don't make this any worse for yourself that it needs to be." I could scream... this is so insane!

When I'm at the top of the steps little Napoleon points at the bench against the railing and puts downward pressure on my shoulder, saying, "Sit right there and don't move!" With a head-shake in disgust, but not wanting to get in a wrestling contest here, I sit figuring that I'll explain this horse-shit to whoever answers his whistle blowing. I haven't done a fucking thing wrong.

Sitting here for a minute, I ask, "What the fuck are we doing here, Theodore?" but even to me it sounded kinda whiny coming out. Fucking police, ya know? I should get up and walk away. What's that little twat gonna do? As soon as I start to stand though he blows his damn whistle again, "Wheeeee!" and people look over at us. Theodore puts his hand firmly back on my shoulder, as if that would keep me on this bench. Well actually I sit back down so it is keeping me on this bench. Jesus Christ, this fucking summer!

Theodore is looking down the Boardwalk and lazily has his free arm in the air waving it slightly. Ten-seconds later a Boardwalk cop, looking sharp with his crisp uniform and a shiny badge on his chest, coasts up on his bicycle. He stops in front of Theodore, drops his feet to the Boardwalk, and asks, "What have we got here, Teddy?" Teddy nods his head at me, saying, "Another trouble-maker, Stan. I had to argue with him an hour-ago to keep him from using the new ramp and now he's giving me shit and threatening me with bodily harm." Stan slowly shakes his head at Teddy and then says to me, "Let's see some ID, Sir," and I start to explain that what Teddy said isn't what happened at all, but Stan goes, "No, I don't want any comments from you, Sir. Just some ID. You'll get your chance to speak if it goes far enough that you're before a judge." I can't help but start to say, "But Officer." and Theodore leans close to my head and quietly says, "Just keep your fucking mouth shut or I'll make it a lot worse for you." Oh man!

Stan looks like a college student doing this Boardwalk cop-thing as a summer job. He's a big guy, slightly overweight, but not a lot. He's just pudgy and soft-looking with the mandatory three-day-beard. Very average-looking. Theodore holding his left hand out in my face waiting for me to give him my driver's license, his right hand remains on my shoulder so everyone walking by can tell I'm his prisoner. And in case they can't tell, he makes sure they do by saying, "Nothing to see here, folks. Keep moving please. It's a police matter." Oh for fuck-sake! No one was paying us much attention in the first place; not until he said that.

Exhaling nosily, I get my wallet out of my back pocket and pull out my driver's license. Theodore snaps it from my fingers and passes it on to Stan, who's saying, "FYI, Sir, this year we can ban trouble makers from the Boardwalk for any number of rule infractions, so you best read the signs along the boards and obey the law. Threatening an officer like Officer Smiley here can get you a ten-day jail sentence. Words to the wise, Sir." He has the sarcastic, 'sir' down perfectly in police-speak.

I'm not even looking at him now. Staring up at the stars I want to punch somebody. This is so unfair! Then I hear, "Sir!" so I look over and see him holding up what looks like a big cellphone. He goes, "I'm in contact with dispatch any time I need them and they'll have a paddy-wagon here in less than five-minutes... if I call them. I suggest, assuming you don't want me to call, that you change your attitude and your body language, and I mean like right now." What the fuck is he talking about?

Theodore smirks at me and presses down a little harder on my shoulder. I make a 'face' at him and then say to the bicycle cop, "Stan, I haven't done a fucking..." and he looks at my license and goes, "Um, Dylan is it? I'm not going to tell you again, keep your mouth shut." Oh, sweet mother of God! You give these young gung-ho guys a little authority, a little power and then watch them abuse the shit out of it every-fucking-chance they get.

Stan's copying stuff from my license onto a little paper pad and when finished with that he hands my license to Theodore, saying to me, "Okay, Dylan." I guess I don't qualify as 'Sir' anymore. I'm a-first-name offender now, plus by using my first name it indicates I'm inferior to him. He says, "I'm letting you off with a warning this time but you're on record now and all the Boardwalk Patrol officers will have you on their lists. Anymore Any more trouble from you and you'll, at the very least, be banned from the Boardwalk. This year we're cracking down on trouble-makers like you. There's gonna be a family environment on the Wildwood Boardwalk or the Wildwood Police Department will know the reason why it's not! We're taking names and kicking ass." Oh brother, alert the corn-ball police!

Stan pats Theodore's shoulder, saying to him, "Any word from your uncle about the hourly rate increase, Teddy." Teddy says, "I'm still working on it but we're all getting a raise, that's definite. It's the amount we're haggling over." I'm rubbing my face desperately wanting to get away from these pompous assholes. Then Theodore talks excitedly with Stan about something to do with a softball game. Huh, he apparently can act like a normal kid too.

They laugh about someone named, Jolly, until finally Stan says to me, "Dylan, show respect to the Junior Auxiliary Police in the future, and especially Teddy here, or you'll need to find another Boardwalk. I don't want to see your name pop-up on another disturbance report!" Yeah, I love getting lectured by someone a year-or-two-younger than me. I roll my eyes and he says, "See ya, Teddy... good job, dude!" He pushes off and pedals away. Fucking outrageous!

Outrageous but I can't do anything about it. In fact, a personal reality check tells me that Theodore has punk-ed me good, so in a way I gotta hand it to him. I'm so fucking powerless in this bizarre situation it's sick. What I gotta do is admit total defeat and get out of here. In that regard I'm just gonna keep my mouth shut from now on. Jesus though, what a travesty of anything resembling justice. Justice? No folks, you'll find none of that on the Wildwood Boardwalk.

Teddy hands me my license, saying, "Put that away, Dylan." No shit, ya dumb fuck! What else would I do with it, eat it? He adds, "I want you to sit here for a few minutes until I say you can go on your way. You need to think about the attitude adjustment Stan wants to see from you." His hand squeezes my shoulder again and I resist shrugging it away this time.

I guess I gotta suck-up to this little prick. He's saying, "I know you're angry so just sit here a while and cool off. Wait here on this bench, um, let's say at least ten-minutes before you get up. I'll be keeping my eyes on you." Maintaining my policy of keeping my mouth shut I don't say a word but all kidding aside, I can't remember ever being this infuriated in my entire fucking life. I seriously would like to punch the shit outta this kid. No, I wouldn't do that, he's too small and he thinks he's actually doing his job.

His hand, the one squeezing my shoulder moves over to the back of my neck and he squeezes there, as he says, "I can tell you're not used to being put in your place, are you?" Why won't he simply stop fuckin' talking and leave? The hand gripping my neck shakes my head slightly as he asks again, "Are you?" I go, "I'm fine, I'm good. No problem."

Yeah, but what's this now? He just stands here as his hand rubs the back of my neck and then up the back of my head too. That makes me turn my head slowly to look directly up at him. Look up because I'm sitting and he's standing. I've got an annoyed expression on my face, but I don't say anything. He lifts his perfectly shaped eyebrows and, still acting very arrogant, asks, "What? Do you have something to say, Dylan?" Oh, I guess I won't hear 'Sir' from him either! Not from Stan or Theodore. I kinda miss that... not!

I continue saying nothing but this is even stranger than his previous behavior so maybe I will punch the shit outta him after all. Sometimes I like being touched by guys and then sometimes I don't. I kinda understand he's just demonstrating he's got the power over me but seriously, I can hardly believe this punk is this intimidating. All I wanna do is leave so I don't want to antagonize him. I simply let the asshole get his thrills... or whatever.

Anything I'd like to do will get him blowing that fucking whistle again. He had no reason to blow it in the first place so I don't want to actually give him the slightest reason for blowing it now. And I'd love to know how old this little prick is. He looks young and, oh... he's speaking again.

Sounding pissed, he's saying, "Hey, I asked you a question. Why do I need to always ask you twice?" I go, "I'm sorry. What was the question?" His hand continues ruffling up the short hairs on the back of my head as he goes, "You looked at me a minute ago and I asked if you wanted to say something. If you don't, then why'd you look at me like that?" I'm gonna blow my fucking top! Controlling myself for now though, I mumble, "Um, really, Theodore, why are you doing this? I haven't done a fucking thing to you."

Dropping his hand off the back of my head down to my neck again, he squeezes it, saying, "Scoot over," I frown at him and he goes, "Scoot the fuck over so I can sit down and I'll tell you why I'm doing this to you." I slide over and he takes his hand away from my neck as he sits next to me on the bench, saying, "It's like this. I don't like smug, good-looking guys who think they're special, like you! Nah, I just don't like 'em so I make it a point of showing them, in this case you, that you're not special at all. I mean, do you feel special now?" I'm staring at him, muttering, "Are you serious?" He nods, "Dead serious, and another thing, I didn't appreciate your condescending smirk when Lee and I came out of the toilet a little while ago. I didn't care for what your expression inferred."

I'm like incredulous. This kid is delusional and probably dangerous, maybe crazy too as in insane, or at the very least extremely weird. All I can think to do is shrug. I can't think of a good response to that, if there even is one. He goes, "Cat got your tongue, Dylan? At the lavatory were you thinking you'd got something on me when Lee and I came out?" His fingernails lightly scrape the side of my neck now, as he goes, "Well, what have you got to say for yourself?"

This is no joke. This kid is getting on top of me and I can't do anything about it. I shake my head, "No, um, I didn't think anything, honestly." He goes, "Well, even if you're lying now and you did think you knew what happened, forget about it! Who would believe you over me. I'm the auxiliary policeman and you're on record as a trouble-maker?" I mutter, "I know," and goes, "Good that you know!"

He gets up, saying, "We're done here. I just wanted to straighten you out about that. Go on, beat it, you can go now." I'm still staring at him 'cause I don't want to leave the situation like this, him winning everything. He shouts, "Get up and go before I change my mind!"

Standing, I'm trying to think of something to say that will save a little 'face', or show even an ounce of dignity. That's if I have any left in me, but I can't think of anything good to say. This entire episode with Theodore is irrational and just plain wrong, but anything I say he'll turn it into something worse, so I simply turn around and walk down the Boardwalk.

Jesus Christ, this has been worse than getting initiated into a fraternity at college, or something equally humiliating and dehumanizing. I do not want to start thinking crazily about revenge although this thing with Theodore just might be the most humiliating experience of my life. He's affiliated with the police, so let it go. It would have been terribly to experience this with real adult cops, that'd be stupid enough, but to be punk-ed out like this by that little, um, turd and his flunky bicycle cop buddy! Omigod it's all been so far over-the-top I don't have words to describe it.

The further away from Theodore I walk the angrier I get, but there's still no outlet for my anger, and why did I hesitate leaving? I think it's because of the concept of him saying I was 'allowed to leave' as if I needed his permission. Oh fuck, I guess I did need his permission, assuming if I didn't want to end up in jail... for doing nothing wrong!

Good old Theodore really had my number tonight. Well, there wasn't any release for my anger after my first encounter with him and there's none for this last one either. There's no logical way to think about this crazy shit. The more I go over everything the harder and harder it becomes to even believe I just went through that. Surreal doesn't cover it, nothing covers it. Wow, I gotta stay clear of that little fucker, and I'm serious about that. That dude is dangerous and unbalanced and he's not fooling around!

I'm stomping down the Boardwalk going into my, 'I shoulda said this!' 'I shoulda done that' routine. You know, that phase one goes thru when seriously losing an encounter of some kind. Next comes the revenge routine like, 'if I see that prick on the street without his whistle!' and finally the admitting phase. Oh fuck, bottom line: 'I lost that confrontation massively! He figuratively kicked my ass like he literally kicked that other kid's ass. That Lee kid...' The last phase is one of just accepting the reality of the situation. Theodore ate my lunch! And no matter how many times I go over it in my head there still isn't a fucking sensible thing I could have done about it, or can do about it now. Except, obviously, stay clear of Theodore. That's about all I can do.

This might even be the extremely rare instance that I don't tell Chubby about because he'll take some action for revenge that'll make everything worse. Chub won't believe me that its it's a no-win situation. Both of those pretend cops lied. Theodore lied through his teeth and Stan will back-up the lies. That's the so-called law enforcement brotherhood I suppose. That's what you get when dealing with any level of police authority; you get vindictiveness, stupidity, and lies. And that little pecker-wood has the Boardwalk Police backing him and the 'real' police backing the both of them. It's an epic case of lies and abuse of power.

It's eating me up and then halfway back to the other end of the Boardwalk I see a rare 'empty' bench against the railing. There are benches literally all along the two-miles of railing on the Boardwalk, but rarely an empty one. I'd be crazy to pass this one up so I plop down on it. I'm not tired but I'd still like to find Chubby tonight. Not to lay this shit on him though, I already know I'm not doing that. Like I thought earlier, I need a huge moral lift and nobody can do that for me like Chubby. If he had his damn cellphone with him it would make everything very simple obviously, but no sense beating a dead horse about that because he doesn't have his cellphone with him.

Jeez, I could really go for a cigarette! I was gonna have a smoke on the beach after my piss, but now I don't dare. Theodore is probably spying on me right this very second and he'd go positively ape-shit blowing his whistle if he caught me smoking on the beach, or within twenty-feet anywhere along the Boardwalk. That's what the sign says... No Smoking Within Twenty-feet of the Boardwalk.

Damn though, that kid has me wicked intimidated. Yeah, that little pecker-wood had me under his thumb something terrible. God, it's embarrassing that I simply couldn't deal with him. He had an answer for everything and wouldn't give-in an inch about anything... the bully. Heh heh, the five-foot, four-inch, one-hundred-pound bully. The little officious bully. Of course, I'm pissed, but yet I can't help laughing at myself, and then I say out-loud, "I got punk-ed by that little punk!" Half-a-dozen people turn to look at me. They probably think I'm drunk. I wish I was drunk!

Oh man, I need to get real! Standing-up I realize I've gotta get it off my mind so I walk across the Boardwalk and go down the ramp and across the street. Safely twenty-feet from the Boardwalk I then light a cigarette. Taking a drag, I'm glancing around hoping not to see you-know-who. Amazingly he could be a kind of cute little dynamo type summer guy to screw with. That's if he weren't insane.

Someone taps me on the shoulder and I jump a foot off the ground, and then go, "Oh, um, what...?" It's two girls with one of them saying, "Sorry I startled you. Um, could I get a light?" and I see she's holding up a cigarette. I go, "Ha ha, of course," and light her cigarette. That's all they wanted as they start walking again with the other girl saying to the first one, "Let's call him and see what he thinks." Jeez, they go on their way down the sidewalk without even a mumbled, 'Thanks'. The cunts!

Pacing back and forth on the sidewalk across from the Boardwalk ramp, I try getting Theodore out of my head. Nothing remotely like this has ever happened to me before in all the years we've been coming here for vacation. Nothing like it has probably ever happened to probably 99.9% of the people who ever set foot on the Wildwood Boardwalk, not since the fucking thing was built. It's like winning the lottery of shitty-bad-luck. Same odds as winning a good lottery, but in reverse. Dodger wins a million-dollar lottery and I won this one-in-a-million bag of shit Theodore lottery.

Oh fuck it! I'm not going to run into Chubby standing here so I step on my cigarette butt and without thinking about it I look around for Theodore. Realizing what I'm doing, I'm like, 'Jesus, he's really in my head'. That's pathetic. Well, I'm just being cautious because there's probably a law against stepping on cigarette butts and I naturally assumed the Junior Auxiliary Policeman would see me do it. Teddy's elsewhere this time though. I cross the street and go up the ramp to sit on the same bench I was sitting on before the urge for a smoke overtook me.

Ha, I wonder if this nightmare with Theodore and Stan is one of those horrible experiences that eventually, with the passage of time, someday will make for a funny story. Hmmm, nah, I don't think so. This story stays with me; it's too humiliating to be funny... ever.

For the next fifteen minutes I sit here looking for Chubby, still without being able to get Theodore's out of my mind. I mean he's such a sick prick! That's not debatable, but why have I avoided the word 'dominant'. That's what he was; he's one naturally dominant mother-fucker! There's no doubt in my mind he fucked that kid, what's-his-name? Yeah, but I not at all sure he's even eighteen. And maybe the other kid wasn't either for that matter. It's okay for those two to fuck, but if I.... And why the fuck am I even thinking this way? I don't want anything to do with Theodore! Even considering it for a second shows how fucked-up my head is.

I get up feeling impatient and out of sorts. Walking slowly along the Boardwalk's railing I'm looking out at the ocean wondering if that wave I just saw is numbered somewhere in the trillionth wave to break there on that shore line, or what's higher than a trillion? Just imagine how many billions of waves have hit this shoreline! Endlessly breaking wave-after-wave... it's a numbing and humbling thought. Ha ha... oh man, I'm fucked-up tonight! I should give it up and get to bed before something else terrible happens.

One second after having that thought something terrible happens. Looking out at the ocean instead of where I'm going I bump into an older woman who wasn't watching where she was going either. We're in a heap on the Boardwalk with her moaning, "My leg, my leg." An older man, maybe her husband, is trying to help her up. The ice cream cone she was apparently carrying is all over my shirt, and her skirt. Maybe the only 'skirt' anyone is wearing on the entire Boardwalk. Chocolate ice cream... fuck, that's gonna leave a stain!

Nobody is helping me up of course, so I do it on my own, saying, "I'm so sorry," and a man says, "Well watch where the hell you're going," and a woman who I assume is that man's busy-body's wife, says, "You could have hurt her seriously, young man!" Jesus, she wasn't watching where she was going any more than I was! Yeah, but she's old, so I guess it's all my fucking fault... again.

I hear, 'What's the trouble here?" and I see that Boardwalk Patrol asshole, Stan, on his bicycle. The overbearing asshole who, a half hour ago, lectured me while writing my name and all kinds of my personal information from my license in his little pad. Turning my back, I continue wiping at the chocolate ice cream with my handkerchief hoping people will dispersed so I can slip away. The old lady is saying, "It's not that boy's fault, I wasn't looking where I was going. I'm fine. I'm fine now!" Good for you, grandma! You're telling the truth, somebody needs to.

Stan, the bicycle-asshole taps my shoulder, asking, "Are you okay, Sir?" Oh fuck! Without turning around, I nod my head, mumbling, "Yeah, sure," and keep wiping my T-shirt. He's now saying to the people who are gawking at us, "Nothing to see here, folks. Move along, please." Where have I heard that before? Assholes!

I try walking away but the old lady grabs my arm, saying, "Sorry, young man," and I turn to smile and mumble, "My fault, I'm the one who's sorry," and Stan sees me now and goes, "Oh, it's you again," as the old lady and her husband move on. Holding my hands out showing this temporary-cop the palms, like, 'What? It was nothing... ' He's looking serious so I guess he doesn't understand this hand gesture. I decode it for him, "What's the big deal, Officer? That nice lady and I bumped into each other. You heard her say it was her fault, right?"

That doesn't impress him as he's slowly shaking his head in disapproval while turning pages in his little note pad. He stops at a page and says, "Ah yes, here you are... Dylan Newman, age twenty-one... reported trouble-making. Are you staying in Wildwood, Sir?" I go, "Yes, of course I am. Do you think I'd..." but I let that thought peter-out because he's not listening anyway. He's got his pen out again, asking, "What address in Wildwood would that be, Dylan?" Oh for fuck sake! Before I can answer I hear a voice behind some people, "What's happening here, Stan?" Its Theodore of course.

I'm rubbing my face, trying to convince myself, 'This is another no-win situation, number three tonight. Do nothing to annoy these pretend-cops so you can quickly get off this fucking Boardwalk!' There's nothing I can do right now except stand here watching Theodore coming through the crowd. Oh man, and when he sees me does a frowning double-take. Christ, both of these guys are taking themselves, and their positions, way too fucking seriously. Nothing happened here! Are they trying to justify their existence, or what?

Theodore narrows his eyes and frowns hard at me as Stan's filling him in on my latest non-crime. There's a loud sound and a roar from the crowd further down the Boardwalk that gets Stan's attention and I hear him tell Theodore, pointing at me, "Get the address where he's saying down here, Teddy," and then Stan takes off on his silver bike like the Lone Ranger. I feel like standing on a bench and announcing, 'A ship of fools is in charge of the Boardwalk, folks...'

With a sinister smirk on his face Theodore makes his way over to me taking hold of my left arm, my bicep actually. Tightening his grip, he says in a voice filled with exasperation, "C'mon over here out of the traffic, Dylan," and I go along with him docilely, basically totally defeated. I mean, seriously... what can I do?

He walks me halfway back down the block I just came from and stops me at the entrance to one of the amusement piers. I'm telling myself to be obsequious and play-up to Theodore's 'important' position within the police force. Pushing me up against the railing, he holds out his hand, saying in a bored monotone, "Give me your license." We've already done the driver's license thingie with Stan but, like I said, I'm going to play Theodore's game and do what he says. Suck-up to him because talking logically with him is out of the question. It doesn't get through his exterior of pompous arrogance. I simply get my wallet out again, and again hand him my license.

And another thing: I'd be lying if I said I wasn't kind of scared now. I don't want to spend a night in jail, especially for doing absolutely nothing wrong. Theodore, in his phony officious manner is holding my immediate future in his hands. He holds-up my license, and says, "I've got this, so don't you go anywhere. Stay put right there and don't open your mouth. I'll be back to deal with you in a few minutes."

He takes a couple of steps and then dramatically stops, turns around and points at me, saying, "Stay put, Dylan. You're got yourself in real trouble this time so you definitely don't want to make it worse." I almost say, 'Go fuck yourself you little freak,' but catch myself and don't say anything. I nod my head obediently instead, still telling myself: 'Play-up to his ego, play-up to his ego! Be obsequious.'

I'm standing near the railing going over in my head how I'm going to act very attentive to him, pretend I think he's relevant and that he's doing a marvelous job. Total bull-shit of course but what else can I do? With that plan in place I'm scanning the people coming up and down the Boardwalk, now I'm praying I don't see Chubby because it would be wicked embarrassing, plus Chub would end up in trouble too. What am I saying? I haven't done a fucking thing tonight to be in trouble for, but yet I seem to be constantly in trouble and I mean from two-minutes after leaving the summer house until right now. This just ain't my night.

Now what the fuck is this? Theodore is walking briskly back to me and then pushes on my chest roughly, saying, "I'm losing my patients with your smart-ass attitude. I told you to lean up against the railing, not stand in the vicinity of it!" Even after all his insanity this outburst still shocks to me. I'm flustered muttering, "What? I'm against..." and with a snarl he shouts, "I'm not gonna tell you again. Your back needs to be against the fucking railing like I told you two minutes ago!"

It's hard to keep my sanity with this nut-job, but I mumble, "Sorry," and plaster my back against the railing. My embarrassment is over-the-top now as people stopped to observer us when he went crazy a second ago. My scarlet-red-face burns in the heat of my humiliation.

Theodore stomps off leaving gawkers to whisper about me before going on their way. Little kids point at me giggling. Mother-fuckers! I'm pressing my back tightly against the railing now, my elbows on the top of it. Taking a deep breath and realizing how I was definitely intimidated by the emotion and anger Theodore just showed. Yeah, my heart's pounding because I'm afraid of what he'll do next. Calming down slowly, I tell myself there's no choice but to accept my unfair-fate for now, and immediately after Theodore is done berating me again I need to get off this fucking Boardwalk at the very first ramp and go directly back to the house and get in bed! That's now my one simple goal for tonight.

Damn, he put a scare in me with the level of anger he showed towards me. Why me? Again, I tell myself to positively not give him any shit at all... none, nada, nothing! No talking back, no nothing. Yeah, but I haven't given him much in the way of any shit in the first place. I thought a lot of shit to say to him, but I didn't say it out loud. Ahh hell, being honest about it I guess I can see where he might think I was being smug early on, and maybe I was smirking when I caught him and that kid coming out of the lavatory, but he's still way over the top with his reactions to that.

Jesus, and I thought it'd be me breaking his balls a little... have some fun mocking him to get even for earlier at the beginning of the Boardwalk when he officiously told me to 'move along' like I was some hobo or homeless person. How'd the mocking work-out for me? Not well! And, I suppose there's a chance those two weren't fucking; Theodore and that overweight kid... there's a loooong-shot-chance they weren't doing anything I suppose. I just assumed they were, but then everyone knows how that word 'assume' breaks-down.

After like ten-minutes I start to wonder where the hell my Junior Auxiliary cop has gone? I'm getting restless wondering how long I'm supposed to wait for him, and then I realize I'm standing sort of 'at attention' against this railing. Relaxing a little I'm shaking my head at how on-top of me Theodore has gotten. Intimidated? Yeah, ya might say he's lately been intimidating the shit outta me. What a fucked-up night! I'm not gonna move though. He has my license and with my luck I'd run right into him if I ever had the balls to try walking off the Boardwalk before he gets back.

After a while I lose track of how long it's been since he left and I start looking for him. I'm actually glad when I see him walking casually back across the Boardwalk talking on his cellphone. He comes right up to leans next to me against the railing, saying into his phone, "Of course I miss you too, Nance, but I told you last week I can't cut this deal short. My uncle would have a shit-fit if I bailed-out on him early again this summer." He's listening for about a minute, smiling a surprisingly sweet smile and seemingly acting human for once. Gee, that was a really sweet smile, I mean for a sadist...

He finally laughs a cool-sounding-very-friendly-laugh and then says into the phone, "Okay, me too, Nance. Talk to you tomorrow, hun." Could it be he's going to start acting human towards me now? Still grinning to himself he puts his phone in his back pocket, nods his head as if he approves of whatever he and 'Nance' said to each other, and then steps in front of me and puts a hand on my shoulder, asking, "What am I gonna do with you, Dylan?"

I haven't been addressed as a sarcastic, 'Sir' for a while now. Looking back at him with a friendly expression on my face, I'm waiting for what he'll say after his rhetorical question that actually sounded promising especially considering the alternative of him blowing his whistle and I spend the night in jail.

After a second or two, he goes, "I asked you a question!" Huh? Oh, apparently he isn't into rhetorical questions. Fuck though, I'm not sure how to answer him. The best I can come up with is to mumble, "Excuse me? Whaddaya mean?" He goes, "What do you mean? I just asked you a question." I shrug, "Um, ahh, let's see. Your question was... what are you gonna do with me, right?" He makes a 'face' like I'm so dumb he can hardly believe it, and then he looks suspicious, asking, "Are you fucking with me again?"

Oh boy! Do not antagonize this pea-brain! Averting my eyes and keeping my temper under control, I mumble, "No, seriously I'm not. It's just that I don't know how to answer your question. But I wanna say I'm really sorry if I offended you somehow. I swear to God it wasn't intentional." He makes a rude sound and says, "What a bull-shit-lie that is. Your mocking and smirking was very intentional. You thought you'd make fun of me beings you're bigger and stronger and oh-so-cute. You thought making fun of me would be something you could laugh about later with your many friends." I go, "No, I swear that's not true." Not entirely true anyway. I probably would only mention it in passing for a chuckle or two. I mean, 'Junior Auxiliary Policeman'... come on!

He's thinking and perhaps being won over by my attempted sincerity. To further reinforce my obsequiousness I'm like, "I really do apologize, um, Officer." He purses his lip, looking like he doesn't believe me and finally says, "Oh sure, that's what you say now after I've taken you down a couple of pegs, but you were pretty cocky and insulting to me a little while ago, weren't you?" I show a confused expression, like no-way, so he prompts me, saying, " Outside the lavatory, huh?" I just look at him for a second more, wondering was that a statement he just made, or a question? I'm beginning to think he expects an answer to everything, so I mumble, "Yeah, I suppose I was and I'm very sorry for that." He nods his head at me so I think I'm softening him up finally.

No, I'm wrong, now he's acting unimpressed, shrugging his shoulders while mimicking me using a goofy, whiny voice, "I'm very sorry for that," as his hand moves from my shoulder to grabs the back of my neck like he does frequently. He needs to reach up to do it because he's at least five-inches shorter than me. I don't act offended though, let him grab my neck if he wants. I'm positive of this though, there's nothing sexual about all this touching and grabbing he's doing. It's intended to show me he can do what he wants and I can't do anything about it... and he's right.

Squeezing the back of my neck hard and then he sort of pulls me roughly away from the railing, saying, "Let's go, get moving!" Without hesitating this time, I walk in front of him like he wants, him holding too tightly onto the back of my neck pushing around the groups of the people in front of us. We go down the Boardwalk in the opposite direction I was going when I bumped into that lady. And yeah, anyone who cares to notice can tell Theodore is taking me someplace, like to the principal's office. It's horrible but I'm trying my best to do whatever it takes to finally get off the Boardwalk tonight. I wish I could be cooler and not let this bother me so much but I'm not cooler and my face is red with humiliation from being pushed around by this little twat.

He finally says, "Stop here and lean up against the railing. You should know the drill by now." I again stupidly just 'stand' near the railing and he shouts, "Up against the railing I said!" People gawk overt us as I lean back against it with my eyes stinging now because this is so fucking unfair and I don't know how to change it. And I'll die if one humiliating-tear runs down my cheek. I get too emotionally at times and right now I'm about ready to cry with frustration! He nods and smirks, saying, "Are you going to cry, baby-Dylan? Go ahead and shed some tears. It won't do you any good, ya big baby." I'm shaking my head, mumbling, "I'm not crying, but I'm frustrated because I don't know why you're treating me like this." He snorts out a mean chuckle, and says, "Liar, you know very well! I told you why, dummy. Now stay fucking tightly up against the railing and don't forget I still have your license, so you're not going anywhere unless I say so. Have a good boo-hoo cry while I'm gone."

Go fuck yourself with that shit you sick mother-fucker. Oh man, damn, how many times can I think this, but it's the truth... I've never felt this helpless. Leaning back hard against the railing I watch him walk to the other side of the Boardwalk where all the shops are. I'm watching his every move now, the way a dog left in the car watches his master walk away. For now, Theodore is my master so, what the fuck, I'll keep my eyes on him in case something helpful comes of it.

When I can't see him because of all the people I strain my neck trying to see where he went, but don't move an inch away from the railing. Okay, there he is standing in line for a frozen custard talking and laughing with another one of those Boardwalk Patrol guys on bicycles. The patrol guy pats Theodore's back leaning over and laughing about something... me? Then Theodore points over at me and the guy gawks at me as my face gets red and hot again.

People give me strange looks as I'm basically standing at 'attention' right up stupidly tight against the railing craning my neck to see Theodore. I guess these people gawking at me are wondering what the geek-against-the-railing is looking at. I follow his every step as Theodore comes back across the Boardwalk dodging people and stopping to smile and say something to a couple of guys he apparently knows. Oh sure, Teddy's merely a nice looking friendly smallish young guy with a bird-beak-nose wearing the uniform of the Junior Auxiliary Police... everyone likes him too, or at least that's how it seems. He doesn't quite swagger as he walks but it's a very confident and athletic way of walking. I must admit he looks good in his uniform although the long pants probably are uncomfortable on this hot, muggy-night night here in Wildwood.

He makes his way to me and then stands in my space right in front of me licking custard off his cone. His sexy-looking pink-tongue is moving slowly across that frozen custard as he stares into my eyes. I've never seen eyes so district a cool... chartreuse according to Hayden; the color I mean.

Then, with a dollop of custard at the corner of his mouth, he asks with a sarcastic tone to his voice, "Are you feeling like a hot-shit college-boy? Huh, are you? Speak up, pussy!" My eyes were temporarily fixed on his mouth but I lift them to look at his eyes again, saying sincerely, "No, Officer, not at all." His tongue comes out for more cold custard and after savoring that, he goes, "Is that right? Well, how do you feel?" Good question 'cause I'm confused about how I'm feeling. He doesn't believe in rhetorical questions so I mumble, "I feel like I can't wait to get off this Boardwalk." He chuckles, muttering, "You just stay put for now. I'll tell you when you can leave."

He licks some more custard and stares at me, making me uncomfortable. I stay alert to his next question or command though. He's standing six-inches in front of me and the back of the hand holding the custard cone occasionally touches my chest and then after two more licks, he goes, "Why is it I need to ask you twice every time I have a question for you?" I mumble, "I'm sorry," and he goes, "Yeah, I think you finally are, but that's because you got caught being a stuck-up prude thinking you're better than me. You're not sorry for shitting on me, you're sorry I did something about it, right?" I gulp, getting more and more confused about what I'm feeling. I think I'm beginning to agree with him. More licks off his cone and then he pretends to offer me some of the custard by holding it to me, but pulls it back.

Dropping my head, unable to maintain eye contact with him for more than two-seconds, I mutter, "Okay, you're right." He's so casually confident it makes me fidget. Wiping the smear of custard off the side of his mouth, he's like, "Oh yeah? I'm right about what?" I mumble, "You've been right about almost everything and all I can say is I apologize and I won't do any of it again." He does a snort, muttering, "That's what smart-asses like you all say to me eventually. Hot-shot, good-looking, in-crowd guys like you have never had to eat shit and now that's what I'm making you do and you don't like it. Do you, big-shot?" I frown, muttering, "No, sir."

He never lets-up but I notice some of his normal intensity was left out of those last few comments. He's eating the edges of the cone now using his smallish very-white teeth that are slightly bucked in front. Stopping to look at me, and then he holds the mostly eaten cone up to my mouth again, mumbling, "Go ahead, try some." In a trance I bite off a small piece, mumbling, "Thanks," and he goes, "Listen, I've been thinking that maybe there's a way you can get on my good side. Would you like that?" I say, "Yes, very much," and realize I've been feeling slightly drowsy for a while now.

No, not drowsy as in tired but I'm beginning to feel that hypnotized state of mind that's eerily familiar, but strange at the same time. It confusing me and just adds more to this feeling of a trance I've been noticing that's coming over me. Not that it's unusual for me to get like this, but normally the circumstances are very different. Theodore's constant belittling and humiliating me has worn me down to this vulnerable state of mind. A trance sensation is actually a relief from the tension I've been under most of the night.

Against all rhyme or reason, I'm afraid I've fallen under his dominance and scarily feeling a sexual submissiveness to him. It sort of feels sexy and kinda good. Better than my uneasy scared-feeling about maybe going to jail. Fuck, I don't even know when I started feeling like this but I'm noticing it now for sure. He's been so consistently mean and I've been feeling so consistently abused and helpless it makes me wonder if this is like the Stockholm Syndrome. Or maybe I'm in an overly dramatic frame of mind with that Stockholm shit.

Obviously I don't fucking know. But what I do know is Theodore is a natural dominant type individual, although maybe he isn't aware of it. Nah, he's aware of it! All his life he's been like this: pushy, aggressive, and knowing he can get on top of people and boss them by being totally in-charge. He probably started as a 'hall monitors' in grade school and worked his way up, always with some form of authority backing him. Or maybe he started in kindergarten and he's been working at being the biggest dominant-prick in the world ever since.

He looks at me and yes, he has those hypnotic, chartreuse eyes that sparkle. Exaggeratedly he's now licking from his cone where I took a bite, my eyes following his tongue and then he says, "If you're gonna get on my good side, big-shot, you'll need to follow my rules. The same ones Lee follows. You remember, Lee, right? You should since you two are a lot alike." I must have a startled expression on my face because he goes, "Oh, yeah, you two are alike. What, so you're surprised I think you're like that pussy, Lee, huh? Well yeah, you are like him in many ways. Not your 'looks' or anything like that." Jesus...

I'm continuing to follow through on the promise I made to myself about not saying a fucking thing unless he asks me something. That, plus now I'm dealing with this trance of submissiveness, or whatever it is. It's different, but the sort of the same feeling I've experienced before, many times actually. Fuck, I can't explain it...

To further demonstrate to me he can do what he wants, Theodore uses his free hand to reach over and straightens my t-shirt where it's crumpled at the waist of my shorts. He pulls the material down tight as he's saying, "No, they're not new rules just for you. Ya just gotta do what I make Lee do. For one thing you need to start calling me, Sir." He's smirking at me openly now as he gives my t-shirt one last pull and then, pushing the bottom of the too-large tee, he rests his hand against my crotch leaving it there as a challenge for me to say something about it.

I don't say anything about it because he's right; he can do what he wants; I've surrendered. I've surrendered even though I can hardly believe it, and it's also obvious this has become sexual, just as I thought it would be. It's almost like someone read my mind from the last few months about my interest in real sub/dom sex and decided to play a practical joke on me by setting up this elaborate Theodore-hoax. I don't know the exact moment I let myself become docilely submissive to him, but I'm sensing everything differently from earlier when my reaction to everything he did was various levels of anger and hate.

After all the debating I did with myself the last few months about looking for a real-naturally-dominant 'top' I'd be a hypocrite to reject this golden opportunity, especially considering the bull-shit I've had to put-up with to get to this point. I need to be all-in on this. I'm scared too because Theodore's unpredictably mean, but that's good because that should be a small part of the true sub/dom experience. This is weird though because it's happened without me knowing it was going to, or knowing when it everything changed.

I recognize that Theodore now has me totally under his thumb, and so does he. Maybe to further prove that he casually pats my head like I'm a little kid and then ruffles my hair smirking at me again as I stand tightly against the railing still tasting the vanilla custard he gave me. The cone is almost gone as he says, "You're not going to ever give me any shit after this, are you, Dylan?" I recall his first rule and say, "No, Sir." He nods his head arrogantly but I don't feel hate for him because of his arrogance; not anymore. We know our roles now and we're moving on with it.

Theodore's won a total victory over me and to further prove it, or to just rub it in, he slowly swipes his thumb across my lips. Maybe wiping off some custard. Even if that's what it was, which it wasn't, that move would still be an overt dominant act done to an underling, meaning me, who isn't in position to do anything about it. And, Jesus, can this kid smirk! He does his smirk as he's pushing his thumb very gently past my lips and against my front teeth while at the same time he's taking another bite of the last half of the custard cone. Then, with his mouth full, he asks arrogantly, "Do you like how my thumb tastes?" In this trance I've slipped into all I can do is nod my head, not really processing his question.

Yeah, he's really got the dominance thing down pat. Swallowing his last lick of custard, his thumb still against my teeth, he goes, "What'd I just fucking say a minute ago?" I frown, forgetting what he said. He goes, "You don't nod your head at me! You say, Yes sir." Right out loud, his thumb slipping onto my tongue as I do it, I say, "Yes, Sir," totally not caring who hears me say it, or that my words sounded weird with his thumb on my tongue. He's got me and he knows it and he knows I know it too. Maybe he's a lot older than he looks. That's possible, I'm older than I look.

He grins at me for the first time and quietly says, "Suck it," and I suck on the first joint of his thumb. He nods his head and then rubs-in my humiliating situation, by rubbing his thumb on my tongue as I'm sucking on it until I've sucked in most of his thumb and then, like a kid who sucks his thumb, the whole thumb is in my mouth now. People are gawking at us as they walk by but Theodore is smiling and they probably think we're goofy kids messing around doing goofy things. No one says anything, they just walk on by.

Theodore chuckles for a second time and then looks serious again, saying, "You're no big deal now, are you, Dylan?" Again, remembering there are no rhetorical questions with him, I mumbling, "I never thought I was a big deal... um, Sir," my words totally garbled with his thumb all the way in my mouth.

Oh fuck though, I know I'm totally screwed because I'm feeling everything this dominant prick says or does, feeling it in my dick now, and it feels good. Pulling out his thumb, again slowly and gently with my saliva connecting from my tongue to his thumbnail, he goes, "I'm beginning to think you really do want to get on my good side. You do, right?" I'm into it fully now, saying too loudly, "Yes, Sir." I've been reduced by Theodore into being just like that chunky kid, just like Theodore said I was. I wonder what made-up crime Teddy convinced that other guy was the reason he's in trouble?

After taking an exaggerated last-lick at some custard on his finger, he says, "You need to admit how you thought you were a big deal until I showed you that you're not. Ya can't get 'fixed' until you admit your crimes, your faults. So, if you wanna get on my good side admit you thought you were pretty cool when you were smugly fucking with me about being a Boy Scout and whatnot?" I look down, because he's right, and I mumble, "Yes, Sir," and then I grimace because saying that 'Yes Sir' thing made my dick squirt a drip of pre-cum in my pants and it's wet against my dick now. He prompts me. "Yes Sir, what?" I go, "Yes Sir, I thought I was cooler than you but you taught me I'm not."

Changing his tone Theodore snaps-out an order, saying, "Get the tablet and a pen out of my backpack." I'm startled again, blinking my eyes and wondering if that requires me saying 'Yes, Sir'. I don't say it but I hesitate because we're facing each other and he said to stay against the railing. He starts explaining, as if he's talking to an idiot, "You'll need to walk around behind me to get in my backpack before you can do what I just told you to do." Duh!

Rolling my eyes, I step behind him while trying to decide if I care for this 'trance' I'm in... or not. Ripping the Velcro top flap roughly I open his backpack and then move the 'out-of-order' sign so I can feel around until my fingers bump a small paper-pad and then a ballpoint pen. After reattaching the Velcro flap on his backpack, I get back against the railing and hand him both items.

Okay, we both know by now that Theodore has me totally dominated but what he doesn't know is I could snap out of it any time I felt like it, although I'd likely be in a jail for the night if I do that. Truth is, if he hadn't pulled all that unnecessary 'up against the railing' bull-shit I'd be encouraged about him being a real deal, naturally-dominant 'top' possibility except there's two big problems: I don't think he's gay and he did pull all that other bull-shit. What to do, hmmm?

No time to think though the possibilities so I might as well give it a go and see what happens. I've gone this far, so what the fuck? He hands me the tissue that he just wiped his mouth and hand with, saying, "Dump this." As I step over and drop it in a trash barrels, he says, "I almost forgot that Stan wants me to get the address where you're staying in Wildwood." I tell him and he writes it down. Handing both the tablet and pen to me, he says, "Put these back where you got them," and I step around him to do that.

As I'm re-sealing his backpack top flap again, he says, "Your cellphone now," as he holds out his hand. Without thinking about it I give it to him and, using his thumbs he hits keys lightning-fast and then asks, "What's your password?" I tell him because I've nothing to hide on my cellphone and then there's more flying-thumbs on the keys I've never been able to do that thing with my thumbs. Anyway, he types first on my cellphone and then on his before handing me back the phone, asking, "What college are you going to? I assume you're in college," and I tell him, "Merrimack College."

He types that on his cellphone while at the same time, saying, "Okay, I won't need my notes on the pad because I've logged everything on my phone. I'm gonna give you a break and not report your latest fuck-up to Stan." What fuck-up was that? He goes on, "In fact," and he sends a text message with his flying thumbs, mumbling, "I just told Stan to throw away your license info because I've got it all." Looking up at me, he adds, "I have all your information so I'm the 'man' as far as you're concerned. Right?" I nod my head, muttering, "Yes, Sir." He goes, "You might still get banned from the Boardwalk or spend tonight in jail with a bunch of drunks throwing up on you, but only if I decide you will. You best do what I fucking say, in-crowd-boy." Report me for what? I still haven't done anything and I've never been a part of the 'in-crowd' in my life!

Done texting Theodore looks up and mutters, "So good, you've accepted your position, huh?" He cups behind my neck with a hand, still standing too close to me, adding, "I've been dealing with guys like you all summer. Guys who think they're big-shots and usually I don't give 'em a break because they're assholes who need some humbling; humbling like I've done to you, but they don't get it as well as you seem to. Do you feel humbled, Dylan? I mumble, "Yes Sir," and he nods, "Okay then, since you understand that I'm gonna give you a chance."

The reality of my situation swarms around in my head and takes hold. Maybe this naturally dominant guy is 'up' for some sub/dom sex. If I have any plans to abort it though I better do it now whether I end up in jail or not. But I'm honest with myself and know I'm not about to abort it even though I know I definitely should. And even with all the crap from little Napoleon tonight, and there's been a lot of it, I'm still curious if he can actually pull this off as a straight guy, or if he's full of shit.

The thought of letting him continue taking our situation into a sexual one is crazily intriguing and it makes my dick firms up so I'm bending forward slightly to hide that fact. Theodore sees that, but misinterprets it, saying, "Hey, I just told you I'm not reporting you. It'll be alright, but you need to pay attention. Don't lose your shit now!" This time he gets the pad from his backpack and crumples up the page he wrote my stuff on, saying, "See I don't need this information now." He must truly think I'm an idiot because I saw him, two-minutes ago, type the information about me into his phone.

Not that I'm going to point that out to him as I try keeping eye contact. I don't want him glancing down and see the beginning-bulge in my shorts that's pushing out the zipper. Putting his phone away, he says, "Follow me," which I do.

And yes, I realize I'm geeking-out like the biggest wimp in the world but the last month I've been thinking about one last fling with someone who is a natural-dominant sex-partner and I think that's what Theodore is even though he's straight. I don't know how that works with him being straight so I'm confused about that obviously but what do I care why he does it as long as he does it. And I know he's all wrong for the role for other reasoned besides being straight; he's younger, and much smaller and weaker than me, but like I said I'm not thinking straight by now, no pun intended.

The unique part of this is I didn't even realize this submissive thing was happening, and don't even know how or when exactly it started. I'm simply allowing the possibility it might work and I'd kick myself in the ass tomorrow for not follow through on what could be my last-chance to experience a sub/dom sex act that might even exceed Ryan's. The other thing to consider is I probably don't have much of a choice about it anyway.

No, that's not right 'cause we always have choices. It's just that the wrong choice, like fighting and kicking the shit outta him will fuck me up more than anything else. Going along with him is my best evaluation of the situation, and I think I want to do that anyway.

He walks me five more blocks in the opposite direction of my summer house. When we get to the next sign for "PUBLIC LAVATORY' he points at the steps, muttering, "Get down there," and he gets his hand gripping the back of my neck again and almost pushing me down the steps. It seems Theodore has decided he was being too nice back there and losing his edge. Or maybe now he's anxious to fuck me even if it's only because I'm his best option now that his girlfriend is out of town. Yeah, I forgot that angle. And maybe he actually didn't fuck that other guy, what's-his-name, so our little Theodore is horny.

At the bottom of the steps he points at a crooked old stool and says, "Sit there." I'm willing myself to feel totally under his control, which I am anyway basically. He's cool with this because, like he said, he's done this before with other guys. It's taken him a little while with me spanning three separate situations, but Theodore's obviously made me his latest project and in his mind, he's totally dominated me into abject submission so he feels he can be more relaxed and confident, and that's how he seems to be more so than at any point this evening.

Comfortable in his position he further rubs in his victory over me by flicking his fingers through my hair again, just because he knows he can. With his hand flat on my head pushing my hair back flat, he asks, apropos of nothing, "Why do you like this silly haircut you're wearing? It's faggy." Oh that's right, I keep forgetting he still thinks I'm straight. I wonder why he's never asked? Anyway, I shrug and he tries to push all my hair so it's standing up now as he says, "Get a buzz cut or a burr haircut like mine," and he takes his hat off showing me his burr haircut, a burr haircut that isn't recent. He mutters, "Maybe I'll take you with me to Ralph's Barber Shop tomorrow and get you a proper guy's haircut." Oh fuck, how many times has that happened to me? A hundred? Not tomorrow though.

Taking his hand away from my hair, he says, "Okay, down to business. Earlier I was talking to my girlfriend, Nancy. She was down here with me during June but had to go home to Philly. That's where we live. She left after the Fourth of July, but when we were together we're very sexually active. This is personal information, by the way, and it's between you and me, right big-shot?" Contentedly captivated, and in my trance, I murmur, "Yes, Sir."

After flattening my hair now, he goes, "So, Nance isn't here and I need to get me 'some' sexual relief. Lee, and now you, are helping me do that in different ways. Prior to you two pussies there were a couple of other straight boys who helped me with getting my dick wet a week ago. I put my best effort forward when dealing with snooty straight boys who think their shit don't smell... like you, right? Do you understand what I'm telling you?" I'm not paying much attention, mostly hearing his tone of voice and letting it become hypnotic, so to his question, I'm like, "Um, I don't know, um, Theodore, Sir." It would probably help if I knew what he said...

It's a cool sensation just now with us looking into each other's eyes, him basically hypnotizing with his voice. Not that he knew he was doing that. And hell, I've gotta give him props for never being, not-for-one-second during any of our interaction, anything but a completely in-charge prick. His level of direct confidence is intimidating as hell when I let it be. Sorry to admit that, and I mean even to my wuss-self, but in this 'open' frame-of-mind I'm presently in it's exhilarating too! And, of course, it helps me to feel intimidated by remembering Theodore has the police authority going for him in addition to his overwhelming confidence. That's really quite an imposing combination right there when I think about it. I've never had to deal with this combo before.

Theodore has come at me with way more stuff than I could combat, one thing right after another, especially because by now when I don't want to fight it. This scene is affecting me mostly in my dick and I need to grimace from wanting to grab my hardening cock. He sees me grimace and grips my shoulder, misinterpreting my grimace again, saying, "Don't start crying again, for Christ's sake! Just accept it's going to happen to you because you're way past the point of no return... way past it."

I'm kind of squirming now, sneaking a poke between my legs without being too obvious about it. Theodore pats my shoulder, saying, "Good, no tears. But, Jesus, are you saying you've never done anything a little sexy with a friend?" I wet my lips, but don't answer and he lets it slide, assuming I'm a virgin I suppose. He thinks about it for a second and goes, "Oh, c'mon, a good-looking boy like you must have had a little sexy experimentation with a buddy when you were a young teen." No reaction from me so he goes, "No? Seriously?" And just like that he has me feeling like a little kid, as I mutter, "Um, yes sir, I guess I did," and he goes, "Yeah, you guess? What, you probably thought you were too cool to do that, right?" I shrug, looking down and squeezing my legs together. My cock feels so fucking good but, wow, this is the weirdest experience I've ever had!

He puts his fingers under my chin lifting my head, asking, "What happened to that hotshot who thought I was in the Boy Scouts, huh? Where's your smart-ass comments now?" I shake my head worried I'll wet through my shorts with the pre-cum that's drooling out. He rubs-in my humiliation a little more, asking, "Seriously, how come you were such a wise-ass back then while a minute ago you were almost in tears?" Shrugging, I mutter, "I wasn't almost in tears." It's his turn to shrug as he says, "Well, in any case, here we are. You can believe what you want, I don't give two shits what you think, but for the record the fact is I'm as straight as any guy you'll ever meet. My problem is I need to get my dick wet regularly and I promised Nancy to be faithful, so..." and he pats my cheek again, adding, "So you'll be my girl tonight. Look at the bright side, you'll be off my shit list and I've already taken you off Stan's." Goddammit, I fucking knew he was straight. I'm not sure how, but I knew it although in the back of my mind I was hoping he wasn't.

Theodore's confidence has morphed, it seems, into him being very condescending to me now. It's like he's talking to someone who is either an idiot or very young... or maybe both. I can hardly catch my breath because this kid is the 'real' deal. He's like a dominant Hayden. Yeah, that'd be a real pisser, a for 'real' dominant Hayden... um, with a Napoleon Complex added for good measure. I guess I'm thinking of Hayden because he and Theodore are about the same size. Hell, Teddy is actually skinnier than Hayden, if I can believe that.

Omigod, Theodore's actually grinning now, a victory grin perhaps as he's patting my shoulder again, quietly saying, "Jeez, it's not the end of the world, Dylan. You've probably wondered what it'd be like to be a girl for five-minutes-or-so, right?" I keep looking away because, bizarrely, the urge to laugh intruded on my sense of submissiveness and almost ruined it. Maybe it's his adorable buck teeth that his tongue gets stuck behind occasionally that made me lose a lot of my submissive trance. I need to get that picture out of my head! Think about the dominant Theodore!

Unaware of my thoughts obviously, he goes, "Well, in any case, now you're gonna get the chance to feel what it's like being a cunt." Damn, trying to reestablish a dominant Theodore in my head I'm missing all his pompous lecturing. I try paying attention and he goes, sounding like his normal authoritative self again, "Get up off your ass, Dylan, and get the 'out-of-order' sign out of my backpack."

I stand, but I'm bending forward slightly keeping my partial-boner hidden even though it's gone down a lot. I'm behind him getting the sign out of his backpack, with him saying, "Close my backpack and put the sign on the door and then get your pussy inside." I'm not reacting very quickly so he raises his voice, "Go ahead and do what your told!" That helped to get some of my trance back. I put the sign on the door, forgetting the, `Yes Sir' and he apparently has too, as he mumbles, "Now go in there and make sure no one's taking a shit or whatever." Inside its empty, but then it's like quarter-to-twelve by now so it's not surprising there's no one in here.

Opening the door I shake my head, muttering, "Empty," and he comes in and locks the door behind him, saying, "Its It's not like this is my first rodeo, but getting straight guys to let me fuck them requires patience which is tiring, and sometimes it requires more patience than it's worth. I'll bet you're glad I was patient with you though, aren't you, big-shot?" and as he hands his backpack to me, I mutter a rote, "Yes, Sir," deciding it's better if I don't listen to him. I'm on the borderline of losing most of my nice trance because he's become way too talkative! And to prove my point about that, he goes, "If I wasn't patient, your ass would be in jail right now." Then he says, "Don't just stand there holding my backpack! Hang it on the stall-door hook." It seems he can't be anything close to 'nice' for longer than a minute.

After I hang-up his backpack he stands there with his hands on his hips, saying, "Okay, go ahead and drop your pants and turn around holding onto the rim of that sink." I start to turn around but he grabs my shoulder, asking, "What'd you forget to say?" The problem I'm having is I'm now filled with anticipation and really into getting a Wildwood side-sex fuck. Gulping, I manage to mutter, "Yes, Sir," and he nods, "That's right." He's very good at continuing to reinforce who the boss is.

I turn around facing the sink, thinking about things so I forget to pull my pants down. He loses the patience he was bragging about and roughly pulls my shorts down as I hang onto the rim of the sink with both hands. No spanking though and, fuck, I don't know if I'm glad or disappointed about that. I am glad he didn't see my shaved pubic hairs, I'm sure of that. He might get a brain fart and realize, 'Hey, maybe he's gay and wants me to do this'. Kinda ruin it for him I'd imagine.

He's now explaining what's happening, "You'll stay bent over like that, keeping your fucking eyes forward. Don't look back at me and keep your head down too," and then he roughly pushes the back of my head until it's down between my arms, saying, "Keep your head down with your arms extended and your legs spread. I know this is a first time, but use your fucking head! And I don't wanna hear a peep outta you while you're getting fucked like a cunt. Well, slightly different than a cunt actually, but you need to keep your submissive girlie head down. This isn't something you'll probably be real proud of in hindsight. Hell, I'm not that proud of it myself actually, and I'm not the cunt here." Boy oh boy, Theodore really has the 'prick' aspect of a truly dominant personality nailed-down about as good as it's possible to nail it down.

As for me, he's ringing only a few of my bells. My asshole's is twitching with anticipation of the impending dominant-hard-fucking, so Theodore is getting through to me in that regard anyway. This delicious sense of temporarily loss of free will, to this degree, hasn't happened for me in a long while and it's arousing! I'm pretty sure though that Theodore doesn't understand the extent of that, or any of it probably. I can't imagine he's ever stumbled previously upon someone like myself who gets-off on being dominated like this and is actually looking forward to the sex that's coming.

I hear him unzipping the fly on his khaki pants and it makes me shiver and quietly gasp. I'd love to look back and see his dick, but don't dare. Huh, now I think he's rationalizing to himself what he's doing, by saying, "Don't pretend you haven't heard about guys doing this, or that it's all that unusual. Pussies like you have probably dreamed about meeting someone to do this to you. Although let me tell you, getting fucked up your ass may not be as pleasant as you fantasized about. I'll warn you it may hurt some. Nothing serious and it'll go easiest on you if you relax. Don't tense-up on me, stay relaxed."

My body jerks when I feel him rubbing his cock on my buttocks, so he's sternly says, "Easy! Stay still and enjoy the ride. Yeah, and while I'm fucking you as if you're a girl try remembering how you used to think you were way cooler than little 'ol me." His words barely register in my brain as he does some more rubbing on my ass with what feels like a regular sized cock. No, more than regular size maybe 'cause it feels about the size of Danny's, which is to say just slightly larger than mine. Feels good too.

Now he's rubbing the head of his now harder cock up my ass crack, saying, "I want you to consider this both as the discipline you deserve and as you earning a benefit as well. Discipline for thinking you're more socially acceptable than you are, and if I haven't convinced you of that by now you'll know it after I fuck you up the ass and take your cherry. And the benefit you get is, even though you may walk bowlegged with a wicked sore asshole, you won't be on my shit-list anymore; that's the benefit, so keep that in mind too. You're off everyones' shit-list actually, that's unless you screw-up again which I don't expect you to do; certainly not around me."

A subtle ripping sound tells me he's opening a condom wrapper as he continues his monologue, "Like I said, this will probably hurt since you've never done this before, not that I care if it hurts you, but I don't wanna hear you complaining. You understand me?" I mutter, "Yes Sir," and he goes, "I'm guessing you're a crybaby but keep your crying to yourself. Be a fucking man about it if that's remotely possible, or try pretending to be a man at least and take your punishment without sounding like the girl you'll be for the next few minutes. It won't take long because I'm horny and disappointed in Lee's efforts earlier... he didn't do it for me. You, on the other hand, I'm pretty sure will do it for me just fine. Yeah, a big-shot, good-looking college guy like you getting it up the ass from a pipsqueak like me. Who'd a thunk it, huh?" And now he does smack my ass hard, "SMACK!" I manage a grunting, "Yes, Sir," as he smacks me again, "SMACK!" and I almost cum.

By now I'm so aroused I don't even remember how this all started. Honest to God, I don't know when I switched from being uber pissed-off and hating him to enjoying the submissive trance he's caused. Theodore won't stop talking though. In a matter-of-fact tone of voice, he says, "This condom I'm rolling on my hard dick is lubricated for your comfort. And, heh heh, you're not even special because losing your cherry to me you'll be the third 'cherry' I've taken this summer. I mean, since Nance went home anyway," and he pushes the head of his cock in past my sphincter as I go, "Ooooh," and he swats the side on my ass, saying, "What'd I tell you about that. Keep it to yourself!"

I'm shaking with desire to feel his cock fucking my ass but it quickly becomes obvious that there's no finesse to his anal intercourse technique. He thrusts all six-plus inches up my ass in one-second. I groan and hold my breath waiting for the pain to subside. He's not waiting for anything though as he pulls his boner back and shoves it right back up, saying, "Damn, that's a good pussy on you, girl," and he starts right in with a steady, hard fucking with less than normal, 'Slap, slap, slap," sounds ringing-out quietly off the tile walls in here.

It feels good but there's nothing dominant about it. No rough pounding-away, or smacks on my ass, or those deliberate hard singular thrust-and-hold to get me going up on my toes. Nothing like that. It's not real fast now either, but any cock up the ass will get the nerve ending in and around my rectum alive with pleasure sensations and I'm feeling a ton of them. It's been four days since I last felt this stimulation and now, hanging my head between my arms with my hands tightly gripping the rim of the sink I need to bite my bottom lip not to moan at the pleasure that grows and grows and grows. "Slap, slap, slap," sounds in my ears as I'm finally getting fucked up the ass. It's generic fucking though, fucking by the numbers. A steady thrusting is the entire extent of Theodore's repertoire for anal fucking.

"Slap, slap, slap," with Theodore breathing noisily and, like I said, it does really feels good but mostly because it's been a while since my rectum has had a reason to vibrate and sizzle like this. After only maybe two-minutes I'm already arriving at the lift-off point of no return. NO! I wanted to feel this longer! Theodore starts going, "Aah, aah, mmmm, aah, ooooh," and now he is slamming his cock back and forth faster as my back arches with powerful orgasmic sensations totally taking over my body and brain, and I'm not caring if Theodore fucks especially good or not.

Another thirty-seconds and I go, "Aaaah," and then I bite my lip so I don't do my squeal as my hips hump out a strong stream of cum, my boner vibrating with the awesome feeling of that cum-stream running from my nuts up my boner and out the quivering, gaping-open piss slit. And then another hard stream of cum shoots up through my boner to splatter under the sink. Yes, awesome pleasure vibrations making me shake and moan quietly as my shoulder do their involuntary shuddering. I'm pretty sure Theodore isn't even aware I climaxed as his thrusting is wild now, digging his fingers into the flesh of my hips. With a wet-gasping-exhale he's tight against my ass humping against my butt cheeks so hard it's bumping the top of my head against the front of the sink as I suppose he's filling the condom with his semen.

Even though I'm disappointed by his basically amateurish pounding away at my ass I'm still feeling pleasure vibrations all around my groin with my pulsating cock getting soft but still adding something to the thrill of that climax's after effects. Hell, any climax is pretty fucking astounding. There's a big glob of my cum drooling off the front of the cabinet under the sink but the amount is more a result of not having an orgasm for over four-days than anything special Theodore did.

That's what happens when I don't have an orgasm for a few days: I get a too-quick-large orgasm that leaves me slightly quivering with pleasure but mostly it leaves me looking forward to the next sex act, the real one that lasts longer and feels more natural. Theodore has already pulled his cock out and is presently taking deep breaths. Gasping, he manages to regain some of his overbearingness by asking cockily, "That wasn't so bad was it, girlie? Now that you've been properly fucked up the ass you know what to expect the next time. And oh yeah, for a cute, pretty-boy like you I'll personally see to it that there will definitely be a 'next time'."

I'm pulling at my shorts, my ass feeling sticky from the condom's lubricant that Theodore wasn't considerate enough to wipe off. He smacks my ass, and says, "Go ahead and finish pulling your fucking shorts up and then get rid of this," and he hands me his condom. Ewww, its got a golf ball-sized load of cum hanging at the bottom. I button my shorts and the carry the condom to the toilet stall holding it in two fingers away from my body as he asks, "Tell me, do you feel any different without your 'cherry'?"

The toilet in this stall is mercifully not overflowing. I drop the condom in and flush it. My heart's still pounding like it always does after the violent act of climaxing which involves most of my body's nerve endings. Of course, this wasn't anything like when fat Carl actually did fuck my 'cherry' out of me. He had way more technique and was much rougher about it. Even though it was disgusting fat Carl it was way better than with this clown. But still there's 'something' resonating in my head that this and that time with Carl are similar experiences in some way; plus different than any other sexual experience I've had. What the fuck is it though? It isn't 'rape' in either case because mostly I was a willing participant, if a naive one during fat Carl's cherry-taking, and I was a willing participant tonight with Theodore too.

There's something unique about both circumstances though. I need to including the Marine from Parker's Park as a third example. Hmmm, this little prick, Theodore, is very different than that macho Marine who was much bigger, older, and stronger than smaller, younger, and weaker Theodore... so why am I including him with the Marine experience? And, as I already said, fat Carl knew how to dominantly fuck my ass while Theodore was all about, um, fucking by-the-numbers generically. Goddammit though, I've gotta figure this out. What's similar with those three experiences?

Theodore smacks my ass again, "SMACK!" yelling, "Why are you spacing-out on me?" Huh, he doesn't appreciate my musings apparently. And he actually seems a tad concerned, a tad worried as I shrug, and mutter, "Sorry. I'm okay, I'm fine." He goes, "Good, you looked like you were thinking you might want to tell someone.... well, never mind that. Get me my backpack and answer my question. Do you feel any different without your cherry?" Walking over to get his backpack off the door of the stall, I mumble, "Yes, I do." I'm thinking I'm not home free with this guy yet, he might still decide to blow his evil whistle if I give him any shit.

Holding the backpack out by the straps, Theodore slips his arms in and adjust it on his back, saying, "Wash up at the sink with me and then I have more to say to you outside." He goes to the sink to wash his hands while I do the same. Glancing over at me, he goes, "You took that fairly well. It didn't hurt or anything?" I don't think he even knows I climaxed, or cares. As soon as he blew his load he pulled his cock out of my ass and that was that. I mutter, "Yeah, it hurt," and he mutters, "Don't be a cunt. So it hurt a little, big deal." Well why'd you ask then, dick-head?

Wait, I think I have an inkling about the similarities between my experiences with fat Carl, that macho Marine, and Theodore. Those three are the only truly 'dominant-tops' who I willingly allowed to fuck me without me having any inclination when we first met that's what would happen. The subsequent times they fucked me don't matter; it was the first time they fucked me that the similarities occurred. They knew they were going to fuck me eventually, but I didn't know because I was clueless.

Yes, those three all progressed through their initial routines of step-by-step getting on top of me until I willingly became submissive to them, and without me knowing it would happen before hand. With every other side-sex partner I've had, every single one, it's been much more a joint enterprise with us maybe feeling each other out, or even expressing openly that our objective was to fuck. It was a mutual progression to our sex whether sub/dom or not. Hell, I even drove to New York City to get my ass dominated by John and his co-pilot, Billy. I had an objective then, but tonight, and with the other two guys, the thought we would be fucking at some point never entered my mind until they had me submissively wanting it.

Theodore, this little twit, saw something in my demeanor that he thought he could exploit. Maybe even from our first encounter, although he probably wasn't sure then. Meeting outside the lavatory when I thought I'd caught him in a compromising position is when he probably got the idea I was a candidate to be his next victim. Little did I know that he'd caught me in the compromising situation. My reaction to it was all wrong somehow; it gave something away to him and he totally turned the tables on me. Sure, I was initially pissed-off at his abuse of power with that Junior Auxiliary Police horse-shit but he did have the upper hand because of it and he worked it perfectly.

It took over two-hours from our first encounter at the renovated area of the Boardwalk before Theodore saw me cave in to him. It must have given him a hard-on to see me become submissive. Instead of resting on his laurels though, he kept his foot on my throat with more and more dominant actions until his dick went up my ass. That tells me he's not gonna let-up now either. We're most definitely not ever going to be buddies though. He prefers being the General to my Private First Class status, his prison guard to my prisoner status.

Damn though, I still can't pinpoint the exact moment I knuckled under and switched from being angry and despising him, to when I came to the realization that this had become a sexual situation and that overtook my rational thinking so I forgot about how unfair and ridiculous Theodore's behavior was. Yeah but it was much more pleasant being submissive and realizing he was going to fuck me than be scared he'd put my ass in jail.

Finishing washing-up at the sink first, I watch him meticulously washing his hands. His head turns to me and he almost acts normal for a second, saying, "I'm having a hard time getting that sticky lubricant off my fingers." Ya know, he's an attractive kid, and the hell with his nose because I get lost in Theodore eyes although there's no getting past that he's a mean little fucker. He's got a grudge he's taking out on anybody he can, especially me.

My one and only objective now is still to get off this fucking Boardwalk and get in bed. And then my itching ass reminds me that I just got fucked three-minutes ago and that thought makes my shoulders shudder. Damn, that quick-talentless-fuck primed my pump more than anything else. I was doing okay after four days of abstinence but now I've got a definite itch to feel a cock up my ass again. I wish he wanted to go for seconds. Maybe he'd be better at it a second time.

Then I'm thinking how incredibly convenient it was for Theodore to stumble onto me when I haven't had sex in four-days. Would it have been different if I'd just had sex with Rob before starting my walk on the Boardwalk? Instead, everything went Theodore's way, but then he knew what he was doing and I didn't. He's really good at getting on top of people though. That's a kind of talent and I'll bet he uses it a lot. I don't mean just sexually, but in any number of ways he dominates a situation. Of course, he has the power and the authority of the police behind him too, and that's a huge advantage! Never mind it's an outrageous abuse of power.

Another thought that's building in my head is this: after being basically bullied for at least an hour into submission by this skinny, short kid with the bird-beak-nose, I have this disappointed sense of... 'That was it? After a humiliating dominant build-up, and most of it without me realizing what he was building up to, and then it culminates in a fast two-to-three-minute generic fuck? How anticlimactic can you get? I'm readily admitting he dominated me into submission, and I kinda admire him for it, but after doing a great job of that he falls flat on his face at the most important time and fucks like a fourteen-year-old.

Jesus! Shrugging to myself and looking at him now, I'm still not willing to start anything with him, like quibbling about how unfair everything was. He lied to that Boardwalk Patrol guy and, well everything he did was uncalled for, and a lie. I don't want more trouble with him and I obviously can't get on top of him because he's the 'law' basically, so I'll continue my pussy demeanor until I can get free of him. He's done nothing to make me think I can trust him.

Finished drying his hand Theodore is back to being the-prick-with-the-power, pointing at me, saying, "Not a word of this to your best friend or anybody else! That goes without saying, but I said it anyway. I'll deny it if you mention it to anyone and then I'll fuck you up bad. You'll spend some time in jail too. Got it, pussy?" Wow, I'm right back to averting my eyes as I nod and mumble, "Yes, Sir." Fuck, I'll stay with the 'Yes Sir' shit just to be safe. It'd be incredibly stupid of me to ruin it now when I'm close to getting Theodore off my back and to finally getting off this fucking Boardwalk.

After adjusting his hat, checking himself-out in the mirror one last time, he mutters, "Outside with you. I have a few more instructions and warnings to explain." As I've come to expect, his hand grips the back of my neck to squeeze it as hard as he can. He's not that strong but it serves to reminds me I'm the underling and then he pushes me toward the door and we're right back in our submissive/dominant roles. What the fuck am I saying; we never left our roles.

Directing me outside and then being even more aggressive and confident than before, he sits me down hard on that little broken stool. This guy never lets-up! Leaning forward he puts a hand on both my shoulders looking me in the eyes again. For a few seconds I try to snap myself out of my fading trance because it's not enjoyable anymore. I'm pretty disappointed about his quick, basically generic sex, but he's still on top me so I try to stay in my role a little longer. My brain is fried by now anyway, and he obviously isn't going to give me a chance to clear my head.

While these thoughts are jumbled and flying half-ass past my mind, I'm not giving Theodore my attention so he lightly slaps my cheek, saying, "Look at me." My eyes go to his, and he says, "I need to explain a few things to you. I just fucked you up the ass and did it without holding a knife on you, or doing anything that was physically threatening. In other words, you let me fuck you and you were my willing pussy. What I'm saying is we were two guys mutually agreeing to have sex together. Is that right?" I mutter, 'Yes Sir' and realize how easy it is to say those two words... they're only words.

Theodore nods his head, muttering, "Good, you understand that much. There's also something most good-looking, straight, hot-shot boys like yourself don't understand and it's that when a guy fuck you up the ass and take your cherry then you become that guy's bitch... that's how it works. So, you're now my bitch for as long as you're in Wildwood. I'll have someone at the station check to see how long that address is rented for." Please, just let me go... that's my prayer.

I'm blinking my eyes, looking confused. I mean, this is over, right? No, apparently it's not. Theodore smirks and he has one helluva a smirk, saying, "Yeah, everyday you're here in Wildwood you'll need to find me so I can fuck you. Every day, right?" I'm right back under his control again. He's amazing! I don't think anyone I've ever met is as good at this dominant act as this guy. Without actually believing it, I mumble, "Yes, Sir," not really into this at all anymore. Hey though, maybe he had an off-night and he's really an awesome 'top' normally. Yeah, probably normally he does it harder and rougher. Maybe he got worn-out earlier from fucking Lee. Maybe...

Oh fuck, I've been yearning for a really true dominant sex experience and Theodore has everything going for him in that regard, except a good fucking-technique which is kind of important but, like I said, maybe he can do better. He doesn't smile and he's still quite serious when he says, "So every day you'll be looking for me, right?" Not sure now if I'm lying or telling the truth, I nod my head and say, "Yes Sir."

He ruffles my hair bumping my head around a little, and again asks, "Right?" I nod again, muttering, "Yes, Sir." and then, without thinking about it, I raise my hand as if I'm in grade school. He doesn't act like it's unusual for me to do that. He merely goes, "What's your question?"

Omigod, yes I'm fully aware I'm being the worse kind of dork there is in the world. It'd be impossible for anyone to be dorkier than I am, but I'm just not sure anymore how much of it is just me going along to get along, you know, until I can get off the Boardwalk, and how much of my dorkiness is sincere. I'm too 'fried' by now to figure out things like that. Not that it matters. Fact is, I just can't keep up with him, so I ask my dorky question, "What time of the day should I, you know, be looking for you?" He grins for the second time tonight, and says, "Start around noon. You'll find me either on the beach during the day or on the Boardwalk when I'm on patrol at night, but if you know what's good for you it'll be during the day."

I'm still sitting on the broken stool looking up at him and giving him my full attention until he turns around as if he's looking for something and then turns back to me and says very seriously, "Again I warn you not to tell anyone about this. It's between you and me and nobody else. You consented to me fucking you, so especially don't forget that part! I'll fuck you up royally if you do, and I don't mean just up your ass," and he roughly jostles my head again, and adds, "You're actually turned-out to be an alright kid once you learned your place. I'm good at teaching a guy his place. Get up now." I stand right up and he nods his head at the steps, muttering, "Go ahead, get lost. I'm done with you for now." As we go up the steps, he says, in a regular conversational voice, "Hey, I almost shit my pants when I saw how old you are on your license. Jesus, at first I was worried you weren't eighteen."

Oh, he let himself act human for a few seconds there. Also he must be eighteen too, or older. I'm still too much under his control apparently because I can't make myself ask him a question about his age. Maybe if I raised my hand again... oh man, what a dork you are, Dylan... ha ha.

On the Boardwalk it's very much quieter than when we went down the steps because most of the walkers have gone to bed, or gone someplace. Theodore says, "Go on home now. I'll see you tomorrow. You did good there at the end." I hesitate and then say, "Um, my license?" He goes, "I'll hold on to it for you. Get going now. I'm satisfied you know your place and I've got other things to do besides show you you're just like everyone else." I'm still hesitating, wanting to tell him I never thought I was special. And do we hug, or bump fists, or what? He makes a shooing motion with his hands so I just walk on down the Boardwalk.

I don't need to walk far before Theodore's influence begins fading away and I'm left trying to figure this night out; maybe the strangest night of my life. And it ending in a disappointment. Not a total disappointment though because climaxing felt fucking good. Yeah, it gave me shivers for a couple of seconds. Theodore's sex style is very routine, very generic except I hadn't climaxed for a number of days, so... it was pretty good in spite of, um, everything...

Still the build-up and then a letdown, ya know? How the hell did I end-up where I did though? I started out cocky, making fun of him by asking how old he was and if he was a Boy Scout and other stuff. He handled it officiously but, fuck him, I just went merrily on my way initially. It wasn't until I caught him right after he fucked that Lee guy that things started going in a different direction. Teddy got right on top of me with that bull-shit reason for calling the cavalry in the person of that dope, Stan. In the end I succumbed to Theodore's constant overbearing personality and he had the 'law' behind him, so he won. That's basically the whole story...

I missed out on that drink with Chubby but for right now I'm going to try not thinking about anything until at least tomorrow afternoon. By then I'll have decided what to do about Theodore. Standing at the garage doors I all of a sudden laugh out loud and can't stop for almost a minute. Holy shit! What a cunt I was around Theodore! Omigod, can I believe this shit? I should say some prayers tonight that Theodore never meets anyone I know that he might tell how pathetic I was with him tonight. No, I gotta do something about tonight but I'll wait to think what that should be until tomorrow. Maybe my first ever murder.

Pushing up the garage door and then walking through the cellar door I'm asking myself: where's the anger, Dylan? You were royally pissed-off at that officious little prick for most of the night and then... what happened? Well hell, I know what happened, but I still gotta answer my question: what am I gonna do about Theodore?

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 usually around 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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