DYLAN!
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
We had a good night on the boardwalk, and then, on the beach the next morning, we were drinking our paper cups of coffee when Chubby said, "Did you know that the sun puts out the same amount of energy in one second that the earth will use in the next million years?" I pretended to be amazed and said, "No, I didn't." He stared at me for more reaction, then returned to his coffee. I drank some coffee and looked for the twins. This early, the beach was almost empty.
Chubby says, "Hey Dylan, I wonder what disease a cured ham had before it was cured." I said, "Most cured hams had syphilis; high doses of penicillin cured them, and no, I wouldn't eat them." I stared at him with a blank look on my face. Chubby tried to stare back, but he burst out with a laugh and said, "You're such a dick sometimes. It wasn't syphilis; it was rickets." I said, "Oh."
The twins showed up without their parents and set their beach chairs near us. Nathan said he had a joke for us. I was expecting some cute little thing, but he came up with this. "In a pub in Ireland, John O'Reilly wins the toast of the night award with this toast. His toast was: here's to spending the rest of me life between the legs of me wife!"
Chubby and I look at each other, like... what the fuck? Nathan goes on with his joke, "The man goes home and tells his wife he won the best toast award. She wants to know what it was, and he says, Here's to spending the rest of me life, sitting in church with me wife. Well, the next day, the wife runs into one of John's drinking buddies. The man chuckles and says, "Did ya hear that John won the award for his toast last night? She goes, Aye, he told me, and I was a bit surprised meself.
You know, he's only been there twice in the last four years. Once he fell asleep, and dee other time I had to pull him by his ears to make him come."
Chubby and I had a good laugh, but you've never seen boys laugh like Nathan and Noah; their faces were bright red, and they hugged each other and roared. The Moms joined us around eleven o'clock; both were a little bit hungover from their cocktail cruise last night. We introduced the twins, and both the Moms' eyes got big seeing these boys for the first time. Tris says, "Well, aren't you two something? It's a pleasure to meet you both." Ten minutes later, Mr. and Mrs. North joined the group, and my Mom started talking to them. Before you know it, we were one big group. All the better for me. I can ogle the boys up close now.
The Moms wanted coffee, so Chubby and I flipped to see who would go.
After losing for the eight millionth time in a row, I tried unsuccessfully to talk one of the twins into coming with me. The Norths had drinks already, so off I went alone, trudging through the sand toward the boardwalk but feeling really good. I liked that the Moms would have some adults to talk to; Lord knows they like to talk, and I liked the twins, so it's all good.
There was a line for coffee, so I stood in it, glancing around for cute guys, and right away, I spotted this unusual guy sitting on a bench across from me on the ocean side of the boardwalk. He had his back to the ocean, wearing a very small Speedo bathing suit, like the one Dodger wears. You rarely see a Speedo in Wildwood. The boy was tall, over six feet, and was wearing a tank top with a foreign word across the front. That was my clue that he wasn't from around here--he had a distinctly European look about him, although I don't know exactly what I mean by that.
If I had to guess, I'd guess he's French. He was very good-looking, about my age, with longish, clean-looking, light brown hair that the breeze off the ocean blew around his face. He'd flick his head a little to get the hairs off his face and then take a big drag off his cigarette, blowing it out with long exhales. The ocean breeze would sometimes blow the smoke back around his face.
There is something dramatic about him, but what caught my attention was how he crossed his long, smooth, well-defined dancer's legs. He crossed them down near his knees. I'd seen woman cross their legs like that, but never a guy. He had long, narrow feet, too, and he wore slippers that were open at the back.
No, he was not feminine, even though his slippers and how he crossed his legs might make one think he was. It was my turn in line for coffee now; I got the Moms what they wanted and one for myself. The grumpy-looking girl who waited on me put the three paper cups of coffee with lids in a slotted tray, and I carried the tray casually over to where the French boy was sitting. He looked the other way when I asked, "Do you mind if I sit here for a minute?"
Up close, he had beautiful skin and striking looks. His body was slim, but not skinny. It was tight, very fit, like maybe he was a long-distance runner. Those legs, up close, were strong-looking and showed a very attractive calf definition, with only a small amount of light hair shining golden in the sunlight.
In an extremely relaxed manner, he kicked the top leg slightly so that his foot swung while he dramatically turned his head to see who was speaking to him. He stared at my face with a slight grin on his lips and then, in a boyish, sexy-sounding voice, said, "Pardon, Monsieur, Je suis desole. Je ne comprends pas Anglais."
I said, "You are so hot, I'd like to lick your lips. I love the way you sit and the sexy way you cross your legs." He said, "Gabriel Bedeau," and he held out his hand to shake. I smiled as I held his hand and said, "My pleasure, Gabriel." Letting go of his hand, I pointed at myself and said, "I'm Dylan Newman." And I thought I had wasted my time taking French last year as an elective! He stood now, did a little head bow, leaned his head forward slightly, and carefully said, "Dillon Nomon," and nodded, smiling formally.
I was going to bum a cigarette from him, but a slim, good-looking woman, almost certainly his mother, came up from the lavatory below, spoke rapid French to Gabriel, and walked off. Gabriel looked back once, waved at me, and smiled sweetly. I sat down on his bench, adjusted my hardened dick, opened the flap on my coffee cup lid, and took a sip. Then I tried crossing my legs like Gabriel. I succeeded and got a surprise; doing it that way squeezed my balls nicely. A nice firm pressure on my nuts; ah ha! Now I get it. See... if you keep your mind open, you can learn shit!
Back at our little group, Chubby, who had said he didn't want another coffee this morning, shared my coffee as the Moms enjoyed their large ones while they smoked cigarettes. The Norths disapproved of the cigarettes, but they seemed to like the Moms in spite of that. Our Moms have this infectious, perky personality that almost everybody takes to.
I've heard that they're wicked popular waitresses.
Although the twin's mother was grossly overweight and the father quite a bit underweight, the Norths turned out to be very pleasant, regular folks and were friendly to Chub, me, and the Moms for the remainder of our mornings on the beach. Like the twins, they had thought Chubby and I were brothers, which is odd since we don't think we look alike.
After a good morning on the beach, we were back at the condo when Chubby got a call from Rickie asking him to work a few days during vacation because his replacement quit, and they had the big bank offices that had to be done! Chubby would get time-and-a-half pay and was hot to do it. He said, "I can't pass this up, Dylan, and you said your friend wants to spend a few days here, right? What's his name... Willie. He'll keep you busy while I'm in Framingham washing windows. Give him a call."
I said, "I'd rather go with you, Chubby," and that is the truth, but I knew I wouldn't be going. Willie keeping me company is a pretty good plan B. I said, "Wonder if he's available this weekend?" Chubby mumbled, "Well, call him and find out."
The Moms encouraged me to call, too, so I called on my cell phone. It's sweet in some ways and degrading in others how much encouragement there was to get Willie to join me while Chubby was away. I'm glad they all care, but the truth is they were worried that I'd put on this childish pouting act because Chubby wouldn't be here. Actually, I do feel like pouting a little.
"Oh, Hi Willie! It's Dylan; I miss you. Um, I thought you were going to call me. Anyway..." I explained, and Willie was excited when I told him Chubby would be away so that it would be only him and me. His Father's business manager had told Willie to give him the dates, and he'd get him a room. He was planning on getting a room outside Wildwood so that it would make sense for me to sleep over. I told him he didn't need to rent a room. He could stay with me, but he wanted his own place. We made plans for him to call me on Friday. Everyone seemed relieved I'd have a playmate when Chubby was away.
The Moms took off for a nail and hair spa appointment. Two guys they met on the cruise last night were taking them to Atlantic City tomorrow: gambling and a show. After lunch, back on the beach, it was so hot Chubby and I stayed in the ocean. A thunderstorm is predicted for tomorrow, and the temperatures should drop to the eighties. In the ocean, we waded up the beach about twenty blocks and then jogged back on the wet, packed sand, dodging little kids and the elderly. We went back to our own beach, did one more dive in the ocean, and then went back to the condo to shower. Chub and I, to save money, were eating dinner in the condo tonight.
The Moms were still not back from the spa, so we took this opportunity to shower together. We'd taken it for granted we'd be showering together and stripped in our room, bumping against one another. In the bathroom, I got the water adjusted to the right temperature, stepped under the shower head, got soaked, and then, facing him, I shampooed Chubby's buzzed hair while, at the same time, Chubby shampooed mine. We had both hands, thick with shampoo, on either side of each other's head. It was very sexy for me because Chubby was doing more of a caress than a shampooing, and it got a little hypnotic if you want to know the truth.
We unconsciously moved closer and closer until our arm just fell over the other's shoulders, and we hugged and swayed that way for two minutes or so. My penis was so hard it got stuck sideways against Chubby's belly, and I was afraid it might break off if it hit Chubby's rock-hard penis. He is a few inches shorter than me, so his boner was poking my thigh. We were silently swaying, like dancing, under the shower's spray. I don't know about Chubby, but my eyes were closed. After a while, I felt like I was in a trance. Maybe Chubby was, too, because neither of us had spoken since getting undressed.
Still, without speaking, I reached my soapy hand down and began stroking Chubby's boner. His body stiffened at first and then relaxed into me even more than before. My boner had that precum feeling as I stroked Chubby's hard four inches of boner. I did him real slow, and it still only took two minutes. Chubby put his face against my shoulder, making grunting sounds as he fired off his creamy cum load, which splattered between my legs and immediately circled around in the water a few times and then entered the great unknown, down the drain, never to be seen again.
Chubby hugged me very tightly for five seconds after the final cum shot was milked from his balls by my tight ring of fingers, and then he took a deep breath before saying, "Your turn," and with that, he got a tight fist around my cock and oh my god, did he stroke that thing. The uncut skin flew on and off my wet cock head. I was up on my toes in no time, and then I was moaning, "Aaaahhh," as three quick shots of cum fired out of my boner. It happened so fast I couldn't believe it.
I sputtered, "Jesus, that was awesome, Chubby. I feel a lot better." He goes, "Of course you do. Like I said the other day, teenagers need to have their orgasms, and we're in this situation of living together for a couple of weeks, so we need to help each other out. Any two guys in a civilized country would do the same." I muttered, "Oh yeah, of course. How about getting my back for me." We washed each other's back and finished the shower without further conversation.
It's impossible not to see that something was happening between us. Wildwood was maybe doing the trick for me. I didn't want to say anything for fear of jinxing the situation, and Chubby, I'm guessing, didn't want to say anything because he feels uncomfortable about what we've been doing together lately. He does not want to be gay!
We got dressed in flimsy basketball shorts. I had my necklace on, and Chubby had his earring stud. He hadn't had it out since he got pierced. Just swab some alcohol wash on it in the morning and night until the slit heals. We went out on the deck to share a large Arnold Palmer and a cigarette. Our moms joined us on the deck. They were drinking frosty cans of Miller Light beers, and we had some pleasant chit-chat. When the opportunity presented itself, I snuck this tidbit into the conversation, "Ah, Mom, Chubby is talking me into getting my ear pierced so I can be just like him. What do you think about that?"
Chubby burst out laughing, pretending to cough into his fist, making the phony cough sound like "bullshit!" My Mom said, "I'm not against an earring, Dylan. You're a big boy now; get your ear pierced if you want. Go ahead, be like your twin." She smiled nicely because she really didn't mind, and she and Tris liked it when Chubby and I wanted to be alike. I said, "Thanks, Mom," and looked at Chubby, who was grinning at me. He knew this was a big deal and was happy for me. I felt good.
Okay, Willie was coming down Friday afternoon, and he'll be impressed that I have a pierced ear. Should I get a stud like Chubby or a little hoop? '
Tuesday night on the boardwalk, Chubby and I went on many rides. All the good rides have fairly long lines, so we had plenty of time to discuss things. Much of that time was spent discussing getting our driver's license and what kind of car we'd buy. I can't even begin to tell you how many times we added up in our heads the money we'll have by summer's end. On the beach this morning, while reading stuff on his phone, Chubby was getting an idea of how much-used cars cost, and it was an eye-opener. Cars are expensive. I wanted a convertible because Willie's car was so cool.
Chubby and I jerking each other off in the shower was super random, but it wasn't the first time. I'm glad we both seemed okay with it, and it helps my horniness a little, but I'm mostly excited about Willie fucking me. Once you get fucked really well, it's not easy to settle for less. My age group is in the highest sexual prowess it will ever be in, and I'm horny almost all the time. What I'm saying is that there is no way this thing with Chubby will be enough to take care of my itch, so I'm looking forward to Willie.
And wouldn't you know it? I turned around in line, and right behind me was as sexy and cute a guy as you could ever have hoped for. He's probably too young, though. Also, it's nine out of ten chances he's straight, even if he's not too young. I love the gay sex, but the lack of gay buds can get frustrating. Sure enough, the guy wanted nothing to do with me smiling and asking how long he'd be in Wildwood. Well, fuck him...
Chubby and I stayed on the rides until they closed the boardwalk. Back at our place, we cleaned up, undressed, and got in bed. We chatted about me getting my ear pierced tomorrow. Rain was forecast for the afternoon, so that will be a good time to do it. I slid over to Chubby's side of the bed, and we hugged and squirmed around till we got in that perfect position where everything fit together, and we went to sleep that way. I slept right through the night, and when I woke, Chubby was already talking in the living room with his Mom. I heard him say he'd be staying with Rickie and his father. Listening, I learned that Rickie's mother had died of a heart attack when Rickie was ten, so it will be just Rickie and his dad.... and Chubby.
I made myself stop thinking negative thoughts about that arrangement. Still, something was going on there. Chubby came in, nagging me to get up to make the most of the beach before it rained. We had some cereal, and then, on the boardwalk, we went for coffee. We'd brought our beach chairs, towels, and stuff with us, but the weather was overcast, and it was sure to rain later on.
Last night, we scoped out a shop for ear piercings called Mohawk Piercings. It was located quite a way down from where we usually get on the boardwalk, but Chubby liked the cool look of the place and the name, so that was on my mind. The twins were on the beach this morning, so we drank our coffees and talked with the boys, who looked so bright-eyed and cute and new that I wanted to lick them. Yeah, I want to lick cute guys. Dumb! Later, we played handball with them on the hard-packed sand near the water at a spot outside the lifeguard area.
It started raining around eleven o'clock, so the beach cleared out.
Chubby and I walked home with Chubby saying, "It's a strange thing that most everyone who went to the beach this morning went there to swim in the ocean. So, why run home when it rains? Wet in the ocean, wet from the rain, what's the dif?"
I'm like, "Huh?" I wasn't listening. "What do you want to know?" He hits my ass with his beach chair, calling me a dick. We ate grilled cheese sandwiches at our place and watched the torrents of rain pouring down. The Moms were in Atlantic City with their newly discovered boyfriends. I wondered what Jake would say if he knew my Mom was going out with some guy she met in a bar. Of course, that's where she met Jake, too.
We get bored fast, so as soon as the rain let up, I was excited to get my ear pierced, and what better time to do that than this? It was a twenty-minute walk down the boards. Naturally, more people were walking the boards than usual because of the rain soaking the sand on the beaches. Just before we got to the piercing shop, Chubby ran into another one of the girls from high school he goofs around with. She was walking with her parents and little sister. The girl, Lynn Frazell, talked Chubby into doing some arcade games with her. Chubby asked, "Do you mind, Dylan?" I told him I didn't, so we walked the last two blocks to Mohawk Piercings with the girl holding Chubby's arm. Christ!
The arcade was two blocks further down on the same side. So, stopping at the Mohawk Piercing store, the three of us peered in through the plate-glass window and saw that the shop was crowded, as most shops were on a rainy day. Chubby says, "Ugh, you want to wait in that crowd, Dylan?
Why not come with Lynn and me? You can try the shop later."
I decided to wait my turn in the shop because I didn't think it would be much fun doing arcade games with a girl. I go into the shop and start scoping the place out. A tattooed girl in her early twenties was showing jewelry to customers. She had many piercings on her face and, one would think, on her body, too, but thankfully, her body was pretty much covered up in a loose, black, wrap-around thingie.
There was an older man, probably in his fifties, with a gray mohawk hairdo and almost as many piercings as his assistant, perhaps his daughter or wife? Anyway, the gray mohawk man was doing pretty much what the girl was doing, but he was gruff with the potential customers. I didn't see anyone buy anything, just milling around and murmuring. Then I spotted a small arrow pointing to the back area along the side of the shop that read "Piercing Room." I got a funny, queasy feeling in my stomach and wished that Chubby was with me. Maybe there are too many people here because it feels claustrophobic. Then I thought, No, Dylan, don't pussy out!
I began inching my way toward the sign. Almost there, I see a twenty-something-year-old guy and two girls, about eighteen, sitting on a bench under the piercing sign. I stood near the end of the bench and looked nervous until one of the girls said, "Getting pierced today?" I half smiled and nodded. She said, "Have a seat, why don'cha?"
As I was sitting, the door at the far end of the bench opened and out came a mother and a tween-aged girl holding a piece of gauze to her ear and crying quietly. The mother and crying daughter were followed out of the room by a man who stood outside the door and looked at each one of us future victims, one at a time, as we sat docilely on the bench. I was last, and he fixed a stare on me. I stared back at him with my mouth hanging open.
I gulped, but I couldn't stop staring. The guy who does the piercing is very intense, very tall, very tattooed, very pierced, very muscle-bound, and very mohawked. He was very everything, but mostly, he was very gay. The way he moved his head, his body language, and, oh yeah, he had quite a bit of eye makeup under his plucked eyebrows. A totally different species from us humans. He made me very uncomfortable even though I'm gay, too. I'm not flamboyant like him, but I sure am gay, so I smiled and tried to convey with my eyes that I wasn't being judgmental or anything, just indicating that I'm gay, too.
The Mohawk man gave me a wild-eyed look as if he were really pissed-off off and then wiggled his finger at the person whose turn it was, the twenty-something-year-old guy. Twenty-something got up and sauntered into the piercing room behind the pissed-off mohawk guy. Twenty-something tried for cool, but he looked apprehensive if you ask me. Now, I was apprehensive, too. What to make of the mohawk man?
He definitely worked out in a gym regularly. Very big with an over-developed body, as in hideous. He was at least six foot two inches tall, and with his mohawk hairdo being eight or nine inches high, he looked like he was over seven feet tall. His mohawk was stiff with gel for the first five inches off his otherwise bald head, and then the last four inches was dry hair that looked feathery compared to the gelled part. The stiff lower hair was pitch black, and the feathery hairs above started out bright red and tapered off to almost pink at the tips. Holy shit!
Okay, he is very handsome and nicely tanned, but he had at least ten piercings on his face alone. That's not counting the three or four in each ear, and who knows how many on his body, thankfully, covered with loose-fitting blue jeans and an extra-large, button-up front, short sleeve, white cotton shirt. He was barefoot. Tattoos were all around his neck, on the backs of his hands, down his arms, and undoubtedly, there were others under the clothing. Should I stay, or should I go? Then, out comes the twenty-something guy holding gauze on his ear but looking fine.
The mohawk man followed him out and said, in a very affected voice, "Don't worry, ladies. It won't hurt much." They nervously giggled as they followed him into the back room. To keep my mind off the mohawk man, I read the sign below the arrow pointing to the piercing room. It indicated times of piercing and showed that one o'clock to two o'clock was lunch break, so I'd be the last one before lunch. I was committed to staying; I'm just anxious to get this over with. What could I say to Chubby if I didn't have it done? Plus, I thought my days of wimping out on something were long gone.
The two girls were in there longer than the twenty-something guy had been, but they both emerged alive, although teary-eyed. Both of them held gauze over their right eye. Obviously, both had eyebrow piercings. Ugly! To each their own, of course, but other than the earlobe, I don't think other piercings are cool. I smiled encouragingly at the girls, and one said, "He lied; that really hurt!" They scurried out onto the boardwalk. Yeah, well...
I sat there for at least five minutes before mohawk man stepped out and lisped, "Okay, Sonny, get your ass in here and do some 'splaining to me." I asked, "What?" and he lisped furiously, "You want this, so come and get it." My heart started going, thump... thump... thump! Something wasn't right. He held the door open until I was in, then closed it and snapped the lock. He lisped, "Okay, what's your story?"
If he was doing a parody of a stereotypical gay swisher, he was overdoing it. I said, "I, I, um, what do you mean? I came to get my ear pierced. This left one. That's all." He tapped his foot and stared at me. This guy is big. Close-up, I can see his handsome face was totally fucked up with metal jewelry sticking through his lip, his eyebrows, both nostrils, that piece of cartilage between the nostrils, studs here and there, and everywhere. It looked painful. Plus, I detected a strong body odor, as in BO. Ugh!
Let's do this fast and get me the hell out of here, is what I'm thinking. Why is he waiting and staring? "So, you came in for a piercing. Let's see the stud or earring." Confused, I mumble, "I don't have one. I expected to buy one here." He snapped out, "Liar!" Then he said everyone knows to get the earrings in the shop and return for the piercing.
Finally, he explained his problem, which has now become my problem. From what I could discern from his ranting, there have been a half dozen gay boys my age coming in to get fucked by the mohawk man, and then they compare notes on the internet while ridiculing his appearance behind his back. It's some sort of anti-mohawk man website.
I'm always doing something wrong around these macho, crazy, gay, control freaks. Now I'm stunned because how can I convince him I'm not one of the kids mocking him? And, of course, one of those kids caught by this nut-case is going to lie his ass off to escape this muscle-bound ape's wrath, so why would he believe me? He says he's sick and tired of being mocked by cute little fruity gay boys who have no idea what it's like to have sex with a real man. He says fruity little gay boys like me were playing at being gay.
I shake my head that I'm not one of the fruity gay boys. Furthermore, I have never heard of that website or him either, for that matter. His handsome, pierced face got red, and he said, "Drop your shorts," which I did immediately, surprising myself. That's when I realized how scared I was. I stood before him, pleading my case as he leaned against his heavy-duty workbench. With my cargo shorts down to my knees, he lifted his left leg and, standing on one leg still leaning against the bench, he grabbed the back of my neck and bent me over his lifted thigh, and spanked my ass as the Marine spanked me. No mercy for my cries of pain.
When I was blubbering and begging with tears streaming down my face, he stopped spanking me and said, "You're going to be my messenger to all your little gay boyfriends who think it's fun to get fucked by me. You go back and get online to tell them that I'll fuck 'em alright, but they'll get spanked first. Look at my jeans; that's my boner poking out the front because I get very aroused making boys cry."
He pulled open a drawer and lisped, "Pick a condom and roll it onto my cock," and with that, he unzipped and pulled out his hard, extremely curved boner. It wasn't as long as Willie's, but it had more girth and a scary-looking fat protruding vein that looked ugly. It went up the underside of his cock from the nuts to the cut skin around the head. The scariest thing about it, though, was that it was an exaggerated upward curve. I'd never seen anything that extreme, but I was getting sick and tired of these maniacs humiliating me and doing it regularly,. It seemed of late.
I tried reasoning with him, "Please, I'm not one of those boys, and I most definitely do not want you to fuck me. I'll scream for the police if you do, and if they don't come now, the police station is the first place I'm going after you're done raping me. I'm dead serious about this."
My heart was beating so hard I could hardly breathe, and he hesitated for a few seconds before shaking his head and saying, "No, I don't believe you, but I'll let you go if you write down the website so I can deal with this through other channels."
My head's reeling, I'm thinking, how do I get involved in these fucked-up no-win situations? I don't know the website, and if I write a phony one, and he actually already knows the real one, I'm fucked even worse. I had no choice except to say, "I swear to God, I don't know anything about a website." He pushed me back over his knee and spanked my bare ass till I was screaming, "I'll get the condom, I'll get the condom."
He stopped, and with shaky fingers, I grabbed the first condom I touched and ripped it open with my teeth. Then rolled it onto his erection. The erection had gotten bigger during my second spanking, but I didn't care by now. I was whimpering and looking at the ground, trying hard not to do or say anything to upset this maniac.
As he lowered his leg and allowed me to stand, he said, "Bend over and grab that bench." When I did that, he said, "Little gay boys, so cute and funny and full of wiseass remarks. You boys need to learn a lesson. You all have that smirking look in your eyes that real men like me, real men who happen to be homosexual, recognize at once."
I wasn't paying much attention because my ass cheeks were stinging so badly I was afraid I'd pee myself. It's impossible to ignore how much he reminded me of Joel and the Marine. Not Jake; Jake is just a bully, a closeted bisexual guy. Joel and the Marine, though, are cut from the same cloth.
So that's it, I somehow attract these beasts by the look in my eyes? I've got to change that look, but the mohawk man was my concern right now. He was behind me with his hands on my ass. I felt his thumbs on either side of my asshole, almost touching my hole. He began to stretch my buttocks away from my crack, killing my stinging ass cheeks in the process. His large hands and long fingers extended all the way around my hips so that his fingertips from both hands pressed into my ball sac on either side of it.
Omigod, the more he stretched my buttocks away from my hole, the flatter my ass became. I swear I thought the skin was going to split all down my crack and pull away at my asshole; that's how much he stretched it. I was back to whimpering again, but these perverts are psychos, and they don't give a shit about whimpering, they have no mercy in their souls.
One thing the pain from this stretching of my ass cheeks did for me was masked the pain of penetration. He pushed in past my sphincter muscle with one quick thrust and then, rather slowly, inserted his full seven inches. Here's where the big surprise part came for me; the curved cock filled my hole like no other cock I've experienced. It felt really good right from the start, and I stopped whimpering to gasp out "Ahhh, ahh. Ummm."
So, this is the attraction for the wild gay teens in town. Mohawk man knows how to fuck and has an excellent boner. He pulled out as slowly as he went in and then pushed back in slowly again. Almost from the start, I'm going up on my toes, pushing back. I no longer minded having my hole and buttocks stretched away from my crack. It flattened my ass, allowing mohawk man to get his curved cock in me an extra inch. He began a steady fuck after three slow penetrations. Sweat broke out on my forehead, and my entire body shuddered from the sensations of pleasure that wildly curved boner gave my asshole. Right off the bat, I'm going, "Ah, oh!" with every hump he did up my hole. I wasn't resisting at all because it felt so good.
Mohawk man grunted out, "Keep your rectum tight!" and I tried as hard as I could to tighten my buttock muscles. He goes, "Keep it that way, or I'll light your ass on fire, spanking it." Within a minute of his steady fucking, my cock was stretched almost as much as my buttocks. I was huffing and squirming and moaning. My boner was straight out from my belly and bounced with each penetration. Holding on to the bench with my left hand, I grabbed my boner with my right and stroked it until Mohawk man snarled, "Don't touch yourself, fairy," and I immediately went back to holding onto the bench with both hands as he was slamming his crotch into my flattened buttocks making subtle smacking sounds, muffled by his thick bush.
I heard some grunts of pleasure from Mohawk man, but mostly just loud breathing through his nose. I wasn't going to last long. This felt way too hot to be believed, and at one point, about a minute into the fucking, he easily lifted me off the ground and asked, "How's it feel, boy?"
I didn't hesitate, "It feels good, really good," and with no comment to that, he set my feet back on the ground and pounded his curved boner into my hole at a fast pace for another minute. My nuts tightened up to the size of little hard marbles pressed up against my groin, and then my boner felt so wonderful as plops of cum splattered out with me making little, quiet squealy noises. I didn't dare let loose with the squeals I felt like doing because he might not like that. My cum didn't shoot out in short strings like it usually does. It was too creamy, I think; it plopped on the floor of the piercing shop, "Plop, plop, plop, plop."
Sensation-wise, it is the best orgasm I've ever had. He climaxed less than a minute later. I could tell because he speeded up his thrusts for ten seconds, then held his hairy bush against my flat buttocks for a few seconds, pumped my hole twice, and held his crotch against me tightly, picking me off the floor. He only grunted and breathed heavily during his climax. After thirty seconds, he pulled out of me, grabbed a handful of tissues, and pushed them against my ass, saying, "Wipe the lube off."
I put my hand back there and wiped, still breathing hard from my climax. My asshole, cock, balls, down the inside of my thighs, up my belly all over, was tingling. In the background, the sting from the spanking could still be noticed. As soon as some of the awesome feelings started dissipating, his bad BO became very prevalent once again, but now I was attracted to it, and I leaned against him.
He pulled off the condom and wiped his cock, which was still very hard. Throwing the condom into an empty wastebasket and hearing it "Splat" in there with its load of cum, I hear him lisp, "You loved that, didn't you?" I was completely dominated now... there was that word again, dominated! I can't get away from it, and that's a big worry, a big problem. My answer was a low, "Yes, I did love it," and my body rubbed against him.
Pushing me away, he mumbled, "That was only half of a good fuck; the first half. If you were one of my boys, I'd finish the fuck by getting you to cum a second time, harder than the first. You don't believe that, maybe, but you'd see. Now, tell me, what's that website that mocks me?"
I turned completely around to look him in the eyes and told him I didn't know. This time, he seemed to believe me, and he looked away. When he looked back at me, he said, "See that sperm on the floor? That's your DNA, boy. If you say you were raped, they're going to want to know how come you climaxed so much."
I told him I wasn't going to tell the police or anyone else; I just wanted him to know I'm not one of those guys he's after. He looked at me, then nodded to himself. He took hold of my head, bent it over sideways till it was lying flat on the table, and pulled down a clamping devise that held my head so I couldn't move, my pants were still around my knees. He opened a drawer, skimmed through a number of plastic bags, came out with the one he wanted, and ripped it open.
He put on the rubber gloves, opened the sterilized pack, rubbed my ear with alcohol wipes, took out the sterilized hollow needle, pushed it through my ear lobe, and adroitly followed the back of the needle with a metal loop earring that looked cool. It hurt like hell, but he put some spray on my earlobe that made it feel a little better and released my head from the vice.
Putting some things in my pocket, the mohawk man lisped, "Here are alcohol wipes to use on the piercing twice a day until it heals. I gave you a titanium hoop earring that we sell for eighty-five dollars at no cost to you because I believe you now, and that means I made a mistake. I'm not such an asshole that I won't admit when I think I'm wrong. No charge for the piercing, the earring, or the fucking.
I mumbled a low, "Oh, thank you," and he held me behind my head with one huge hand and wiped my face with a wet towel to clean up the mucus and tear tracks from earlier being spanked. Then he ran his hand over my forehead and then back through the hair on top of my head as an air puff of BO floated past my nose. I stayed very still, my ass still stinging, but not too bad now.
He seemed to think for a minute, then said, "You aren't one of those awful gay boys, but you are a gay boy, so here," and with that, he lifted me up to sit me on the bench, and he got a packet out that read, ice pack. He cracked something on it and then told me to sit on it. I hopped over, and the cold was immediate. "It'll make sure your ass doesn't puff up from the spanking. You won't bruise either. You'll be fine."
He picked up my now limp dick, which still had some cum drippings on it, and said, "Do you mind?" and he put it in his mouth. In a trance, I nodded slightly that I didn't mind, and he sucked on my pecker like no one had ever sucked on a pecker before. It was excellent and very erotic. His mohawk hairdo pressed against my belly, and I couldn't resist feeling it. The gelled part was very, very stiff, but the top few inches appeared to be very clean hair dyed a number of shades of red. It felt silky. As he continued sucking my cock, my balls started churning a few drops of new sperm, and at that moment, mohawk man decided to pull off and, almost smiling, he said, "Wow, boy, that's a delicious dick you got there, and I like that shaved look, too."
Inquiring how my ass felt, I told him it felt pretty good, and my rectum was feeling better than that. He lifted me down and said, "I've got five boys who I service sexually. You can be one if you'd like. Here's the ground rules, you can come back for a fucking sometime between this Friday and next Monday, but no earlier than that. I'll give you your mohawk haircut at that time, which will officially make you one of my boys. Then I'll give you the full two-part fuck that will have you scampering back for more."
He felt through my hair again and said, "Beautiful hair. I'd probably only dye the tips red to show that you're one of my boys. Your hair is barely two inches long though, so it'll need to be a very narrow mohawk.
A half-inch wide strip from the front, middle, of your head all the way down the back. I use the clippers, then lather shaving cream and a straight razor. Also, after that, I rub in a hair defoliator to get under the scalp so you'll have a shiny bald head look like mine. It lasts for up to two weeks between applications. No detectable hairline at all. When you walk up and down the boardwalk tonight, look for my boys. They're happy boys who are tough enough to be individuals. They're brave enough to wear my mohawk haircut, and they all get the full fuck twice a week if they choose to. I'm willing to include you because I did you wrong."
Mohawk man waited for me to say something, still holding the back of my neck. I had no fucking idea what to say and I stuttered, "I'm, ah, that is, I'm not from around here... I, um..." He tells me, "Hell, kid, you don't need to do it, that's up to you, but if you do decide you want the entire two-part fucking, the only thing you need to do is get the mohawk haircut first."
What I wanted was to get the hell out of here alive. I couldn't think of a proper response, so I said nothing. After a few seconds, he lisped, "Or, we'll just part as friends. Let me officially say that I overreacted, and I apologize. Last thing is this: I'm going to eat a quick lunch. If you want the rest of that blowjob I started a minute ago, come back in fifteen minutes and I'll finish sucking you off.
That'll represent the rest of my apology."
Without waiting for an answer, he opened the back door which led to steps to a parking lot, and said, "Down the steps and around the side, and you can go back up the ramp to the boardwalk. You want that blowjob, just knock on this back door in fifteen to twenty minutes. I hope you decide to be one of my mohawk boys for at least the rest of your vacation. Every boy needs at least one mohawk haircut in their childhood, and I love to give them."
The door closed and I was quickly down the steps to reenter the real world. Without thinking about anything, I bumbled around to the boardwalk ramp, went up it, and down a block to turn around, leaning against the railing and looking at the ocean. Way out there, the ocean met the horizon, and I stared at that, trying to figure out what the fuck happened in the last twenty minutes.
The Mohawk man just gave my ass maybe the best fucking I'll ever get, and he said that it was only the first half of what he considers a good fucking. Imagine adding the second part. I've had experience with dominant psychos before, meaning the Marine and that prick, Joel. They've hardened me to the dominant type, but that doesn't mean I don't recognize how sexually hot the experience can be, and that holds true with the Mohawk man. The thing is, though, there are always bad parts, like spankings and domination, that turns me into a pussy. So, some good and some bad.
Wait, not Joel. There's nothing good or sexy about him. I've got to give Mohawk man props, though. Once he saw the error of his ways, he was contrite, and everything was free after that. The piercing, earring, and the fucking, all free, plus an apology. And, yeah, a partial blow job with the offer of finishing the blow job assuming I lose my mind and knocks on his door ten minutes from now. No thank you very much, Mr. BO Bonanza.
The clouds were lifting and I could see blue in the sky behind some of the puffy clouds. I lit a cigarette and after a few deep drags I got the shivers. It was an after-sex reaction and my rectum felt so good, so satisfied. My buttocks, not so much. The power in that man's body! Stronger, I think, than either of the other two maniacs whose attention I've somehow attracted. Well, at least now I've got an idea that there is something about the look in my eyes that's drawing the attention of dominant, crazy gay men.
The local gay boys must be a ballsy bunch to antagonize the Mohawk man, going online to make fun of his outrageous appearance and his reputation for fucking. That has grown to legendary status and it's apparently a badge of honor to risk your gay teenager ass getting him to fuck you. That's all well and good for them, except it got me involved, and I got my ass spanked for no reason.
Looking up the boardwalk, I don't see Chubby so I went down the steps to the beach and wandered close to the ocean to enjoy the breeze. The rain had brought with it some cooler air. It was nice on the wet beach and I grinned because my asshole was still buzzing pleasurably from the fucking Mohawk man and his super curved penis had laid on me. Damn! I'm starting to bone-up a little remembering the sensuous feel inside me, and how super filled-up I felt back there. I shivered at the thought of him going back up my hole and finishing the job with the second part of his special fuck. Jesus!
I'm getting a boner as I carried my sandals and waded out into the ocean some, up to my knees. He wasn't a bad guy, the Mohawk man. Checking my watch, it was one-forty-five. I walked out of the water and across the beach toward the steps leading up to the boardwalk. Why not let him finish that blowjob? I don't get many chances at that...
To be continued...
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