Dylans Summer Vacation

DYLAN'S SUMMER VACATION

Chapter 5 (Wildwood) by Donny Mumford

My mind was blank driving home from Robby's house, but now in my condo I'm walking around like a zombie thinking about too many things at the same time. Grabbing a can of Coke from the refrigerator and then slowly walking towards my bedroom, a flash of humiliation spreads over me like wild fire and stops me in my tracks. Standing there shaking, tears forming in my eyes, I try to grasp the meaning of what I saw in the Dickers' garage. Numerous levels of deceit are involved and some of them overlap, confusing the picture even more. Pretending I didn't see what I saw and continuing my friendship with those three like nothing's happened is beyond my thespian abilities and it would also require a stronger self-image than the one I have. Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I start walking toward my room again when a new rush of heat turns my face red thinking about how conscientiously I protected the Dickers boys' sexual secrets. What a fool I am! They've probably known about each other for years and years. Hell, not only known about each other, they're been doing each other! Robby's been climaxing so much with Dodger and Vinnie he has a hard time working up one with me. Maybe Chad's in the mix as well. I mean, come on, he's in the supervisor's locker room wearing only a jockstrap while calling for Robby! Gee, that's innocent enough... my ass it is! Yeah, and this also explains why Robby hasn't been nearly as frustrated about our lack of sexual activity this summer as me... it's because he's always sexually satisfied! Jesus, it's a miracle he can even get it up by the time he gets around to screwing me. Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating a little... but maybe I'm not too!

Imagining Robby and Dodger mocking me behind my back, giggling about how naive I am, or what a sucker I am, has me shaking my head with embarrassment. Or maybe they're pissed off at me... you know, maybe they've twisted the facts around to accuse me of deceiving them. It's true I've had sex with both of them and didn't tell either of them about the other, but that's because they told me not to. I think they're in the wrong because I did what they asked me to; I'm the honorable one, not those two with their betrayal. And don't they know that brothers screwing each other is incestuous behavior? Probably not, they're too busy playing me for the fool. Dodger with all his proclamations, "You're so cool. Dylan!" Ha! It's a wonder he doesn't laugh in my face every time he says it. And then there's that day Dodger fucked me in the pool and later was so calm about Robby catching us at it. Then Robby comes in and makes me blow him after Dodger's finished with me. Jeez, those two must have laughed themselves to sleep that night! What a moron I've been, the perfect patsy for those cute Dickers brothers.

I'm exhausted from all this anger and angst and disappointment and embarrassment; my head aches so I take a couple of Tylenol PM and lay on my bed, maybe a nap will help. Oh, God dammit, tears are rolling down my face as I lay here wondering what I did to make them treat me like this. Instead of being upfront with everything and including me in, they lied to me and purposely excluded me. Guess I'm not good enough for them! Oh, the hell with them! Wish I could sleep this off. I need to just relax, but forcing myself to relax doesn't work so I'll try thinking about something calming like my friendship with Chubby and our family of two moms and two boys; breathe evenly and relax. Think about Wildwood tomorrow and how much fun you and Chubby are going to have together, just the two of you. Ahh, that's better... that's nice. Then a rough, rude knock at the front door interrupts my calm moment. Oh God, maybe it's Robby! I'm not up for any kind of confrontation. But wait, he doesn't know I was even there tonight... does he? Tip toeing into the living room I glance out the window. It got awful cloudy, dark actually. That's odd! I'm sure I read where the weather's going to be sunny and nice and, anyway, it couldn't be late enough for it to be dark already, could it? I peek out the curtain again and see some hulking figure leaning against the railing, it's not Robby anyway. It's a man who turns sideways and again hammers his knuckles against the door, the asshole! A beggar, a religious fanatic, a door to door salesman... but at this time of night? Another loud knock really pisses me off! Fuck this! I've already had one of the worst days of my life and I'm not in the mood to take rudeness from some hobo in my own home. Snatching the door handle in anger, opening the door wide, ready to yell at this guy when the man turns around swinging a steel bar that cracks the door jam right next to my head and I almost pee my pants. It's Joel! How the hell, wha....? He doesn't say anything just snorts like a bull. His crutches lean against the wrought iron railing, there are hard casts on his wrist and ankle and a big brace on both knees. His face is so pale it's almost white, his eyes sunken and drool drips off his chin as he snarls, "They won't repair my balls!" I can't believe I'm hearing this. How did this maniac get here? Then I remember he'd read my file, but how'd he get up all these steps? Oh Christ, here comes that steel bar again! It literally cracks the front door and the top hinge breaks loose. I want to run but I'm paralyzed, my legs won't move. Joel hacks a loogy at my feet and drops the bar; it clangs to the sidewalk as he reaches inside his open fly and pulls out what looks like a blueberry pancake, and yells at me, "This used to be my balls!" I wake up in a sweat, "Wha..? Oh fuck!" I can see that it's still dusk outside so I check my watch... oh, I dozed off for twenty minutes. It's bad enough I'm dealing with losing most of my gay friends, and to make it worse I'm still having Joel McCarty nightmares? Why does everything happen to me? Blueberry pancake?

Getting up and staggering into the kitchen I grab a coke, then put it back and grab a ginger ale instead: I don't need any more caffeine. Outside, sitting on the steps drinking my soda and smoking a cigarette, I try enjoying the nice weather and think of Wildwood again. Chubby and I checked the weather on line for New Jersey just yesterday and discovered Wildwood's going to be sunny and hot until at least the middle of next week. That's good news for the start of our vacation, but alas, that thought doesn't perk me up too much right now. I feel shaky from the nightmare and glum from what I saw in the Dickers' garage and now I realize I'm actually sitting here quietly crying again, crying like a whipped wimp. It's nothing much, just some shoulder shaking and some tears... no sounds. Dammit, he says he loves me and then mocks me by excluding me and keeping secrets from me. I clench my teeth and will myself to get the crying under control, then take a drag on my cigarette feeling sorry for myself all over again and wondering why it is I can't let myself go: just get bull-shit angry and vent, rant and rave like a madman blaming all my woes on somebody else. It's probably because it's all too humiliating to me. I can't get over that even young Vinnie has known about the duplicity all along. Yeah, that's probably why Dodger snapped at him when Vinnie mentioned a three-way at the pool last Wednesday... it hit too close to what the three of them have been doing. And, there's still the question about where Chad fits into this. Maybe I can get over the idea of Robby and Dodger doing it and playing me for a fool by not telling me, but throw Chad in there too and I think that might be too big a mountain for me to climb. And to think I've had a guilty conscience over that one-time buddy sex with Ray. I refuse to even count that stupid thing with Carl. What a waste of time having a guilty conscience!

Flicking my cigarette butt into the gutter I finish the soda and wander back inside, feeling slightly ill. It's barely nine o'clock by the time I get undressed, do my bathroom routine, and climb into bed naked. Naked, just to do something different; it feels good to be naked in bed. I make it my goal not to think about any of this the rest of the night, but I find myself asking the question: Do I still love Robby? Maybe I don't know enough about love to know just yet... time will tell I guess, but even if I still love him, do I want to be his boyfriend? I don't know that either. Oh, dammit, why can't I stop thinking about everything? It's definitely Robby who surprises me the most, I'm so disappointed in him. He's changed so much! That boy isn't the same boy I walked home with that fateful day a year and a half ago. That was a sweet, innocent boy who had a secret crush on me. Well, I had a crush on him too... I'm just saying. Or maybe I never knew the real Robby, and maybe I still don't. After all, he's the one who put those notes in my locker last summer calling me a queer and stuff. Hmmm, I forgot about that. He told be back then that he was just reaching out to get my attention. And, how 'bout him recklessly sabotaging crazy Joel's ride-on mower? I mean, he did it for me, but it was a dangerous and reckless thing to do. Robby never even seemed concerned about the danger or the possible consequences; it was a peek into his dark side maybe. And I've got to admit it totally surprises me how easily Robby's stepped into the dominant role in our relationship too. But, in all fairness, I encouraged him to do that and he hasn't done it in a bad way at all. Oh hell, I think I still do love him.

I can't sleep. Jumping out of bed, I pull on some shorts and step into a pair of low cut sneakers to go outside for yet another cigarette, another one I don't really want. Should I tell Chubby about this and get his opinion? Nah, I can't do that, 'cause Chubby doesn't like talking about gay stuff. That's another problem for me, but it's a problem for some other day. Let me try to be objective here: Okay, I'm mad at the Dickers brothers primarily because I think they're laughing at me while screwing each other behind my back. But, how about the possibility they admire me for keeping their secrets and simply don't want to embarrass me by telling me that it's not really a secret? Oh my God, I've got another fucking headache from all this contemplating. I step on my cigarette butt and go back inside to try watching TV. Waking up on the recliner at ten-thirty I groggily turn off the TV wondering how did I fall asleep so easily? Then, thanking the gods for not forcing another Joel nightmare on me, I go upstairs, drop my shorts, and get back in bed naked again. Lying quietly I try to blank my mind but I can't get to sleep. It appears that I can only fall asleep when I'm not trying to. I'm so fucked up! There's no way to get the garage thing out of my mind. Okay, I admit that I've fucked around a little bit too, but I never pretended to be an innocent sweet kid like Robby does, or did. Oh shit; that's a rationalization, isn't it? But, I don't care... I don't care what I've done because I know I've been trying to be true to Robby, especially lately, and apparently he's never even tried doing the same for me. That's the bottom line: It's intent that counts and the more I think about it the more pissed off at all three of them I get. Robby, Dodger, and Vinnie... those three have been playing me for a sucker and they can all go fuck themselves! Realizing I've been playing with myself while reliving that garage scene in my head, I stop doing it immediately, disgusted with myself. Hey, all I ever did was try to befriend those guys and keep their secrets like they asked me to, and see where that's gotten me... the hell with them! It's settled, I'm not going back to work for Dickers' after Wildwood, no fucking way. Instead I'm going to see how much of a crush Connor actually has on me. I don't need the Dickers'. Sleep still didn't come so I forced myself to do an inventory of what I need to bring to Wildwood and that eventually bored me to sleep.

Next morning there's sun shining in my face when I wake up. Chubby's at the foot of my bed playing with my bare feet which is apparently what woke me. He's pulled the covers out from under the mattress and is doing, "This little piggie went to market, this little..." with my toes. Even though awake I don't open my eyes, I'm just peering out through the slimmest slits between my eyelids watching him rub his crotch, then play with my toes, then smell his fingers. He's so cute but so nuts with this foot fetish thing. I let him have his fun until he finally picks-up on the fact I'm awake and yanks me by both feet down under the covers and almost off the bottom of the bed, yelling, "Its Wildwood time, Dylan. Get up!" Catching me before I fall off the end of the bed, he says, "I kid you not; you've got the best looking feet I've ever seen. They're fucking perfect." In an exaggeratedly serious manner I lean towards him and quietly whisper, "Yes, I know. I love my feet." Chubby smiles 'cause he knows I'm joking. As he helps me get up and sit at the very end of the mattress, he grins, "Well, we'll have to take special care of those special feet in Wildwood. Won't we?" Then he realizes I'm naked and says, "Ooh, I'd almost forgotten what a big dick you have and how cool the shaved pubes looks." He grabs my dick and whines, "How come I got such a small dick? It ain't fair. You got all the luck!" My dick was getting hard in his hand so he squeezes it smirking at me, asking, "Remember when we used to pull each other's puds? The things we did as kids was nuts!" He drops my semi-boner looking smug at how fast he made me bone-up. This is promising, I get the feeling that in Wildwood Chubby's going to take a vacation from his stringent, self-imposed rules regarding him and me interacting in suspiciously gay ways. Probably not to the extent of the old days, but something better than our interaction since Mary Jo showed up which, by the way, was right after Chubby fucked me that one and only night. He said he did it out of curiosity and I can't see anything good coming from me challenging him on that ultra-convenient hypothesis, so... ya know, I'll leave it at that. The really good thing for me is: I'm already seeing that Chubby's the perfect antidote for my glum mood and I'll bet he gets me feeling better and better each day. Thank God for this vacation and for Chubby Jeffrey Romero!

Chubby throws me a pair of jockey shorts, then a sleeveless T-shirt. He rustles around in my chest of drawers and comes up with some old basketball shorts and tosses them to me, then my sandals. I put on each item he throws me and then into the bathroom we go for my morning routine with Chubby sitting on the rim of the bathtub critiquing each thing I do. I love being with him so much! A little later this morning Chubby and I are going to be driving to Wildwood in our Jeep. It's about a seven hour drive; just him and me on a long road trip together, it'll be nice. The moms will follow this afternoon in the Volvo station wagon. They're leaving later because they worked until one a.m. and then had a few adult beverages with their boyfriends so they need their beauty rest this morning. First things first though; Chub and me drive to Dunkin Donuts for orange juice, coffee, and a breakfast sandwich. Chubby pays and then we split the money stolen from Joel. Chubby says, "Let's use some of this money to take the moms out to dinner tonight." I think that's a good idea but now I'm noticing weird vibes from Chubby. The problem is, even though usually I can read him like a book I'm still trying to get over not only that fucking Joel horror show, but also the live garage sex concert I witnessed last night, so my reading Chubby skills might be impaired at the moment. I do ask him, "Is there anything wrong, Chubby? You seem like you've got something on your mind." He goes, "No, no! What could be wrong? I'm super psyched for Wildwood, aren't you?" Nodding that I am, I'm thinking how he said the right words, but the way he said them didn't sound convincing. I'll keep testing the waters and if there's something wrong with Chubby I'll get to it eventually, although I'm praying it's me that's off, not him, because I can't take any more disappointment right now.

We drive back to the condos and sit on the top step sharing a cigarette and talking about Wildwood and what we're going to do first when we get there. Chubby's concerned we're too old for the boardwalk and I contend we're not. Sure, we're too old to be goofing on people, making fun of them, stuff like. But we're not too old to enjoy walking the boards and gawk at the thousands of other walkers, or going on the thrill rides or eating all the boardwalk treats we like so much. Hell, just walking the neon-lit boardwalk on a warm night with the breeze off the Atlantic ocean, waves crashing on the shore a hundred yards away, and the moon lighting up the sky; it's an awesome good time. You're never too old for that, and Chubby finally concedes my point as we wander into our respective condos to throw some clothes in a satchel, ditto for CDs, computer games, i-Pods, cell phones, favorite baseball caps... whatever else we need we'll buy in Wildwood with our stolen money. Let's go!

We're finally on our way, driving down the Mass Pike at nine a.m. with Stephen Kellogg and the Sixers CD blaring; it's the one with Shady Esperanto and the Young at Hearts cut. When the chorus of "I never want to get old!" comes on Chubby and I sing it out with Stephen. Shout it out is more accurate. It's a good rock and roll song and there's this kinda lame, but also kind of nice video of Stephen Kellogg and his group singing the song with the UMASS marching band. It's corny but still we like it 'cause UMASS is our state university. We get off at Exit 9 and pick up route 84 East. Chubby, staying on Route 84 east all the way, drives us through Hartford and an hour after Hartford we're in New York State where we stop for lunch at a Denny's. We're seated in a booth quietly looking at menus when I glance up and notice across from me, in the next booth, this teenage boy with a blond mohawk haircut staring at me. Other than his haircut, which is kind of cool, he's average looking except for his eyes which appear violet in color and seem to sparkle; they're also artificially large, magnified by his thick wire-rim eyeglasses. Like me, he's wearing my favorite kind of T-shirt, a regular tee minus the short sleeves. Slim and youthful looking, maybe fifteen, freckles across his nose, a few pimples on his forehead and an earring in his left earlobe. Kinda cool I guess, but why is he staring at me? I try looking cool back at him but soon realize I can't out-stare this kid so I look away with this funny feeling in the pit of my stomach, and then remember the Mohawk man on the boardwalk. How'd I ever forget him? Is this Mohawk kid an omen of some sort, or is that just another of my silly thoughts brought on by all the spooky stuff that's been going on in my life recently? Dammit! I want and need to start looking at stuff in a more positive way, forget the troubles of the past and look forward to the future, like Chubby does.

The Mohawk boy finished eating before our lunch was served. He walked down the aisle towards me following a man and woman from his booth, 'rents probably. The kid's staring at me the whole time he's walking down the aisle and I'm back to staring at him too. He's extremely skinny, his long legs extending out of shorts that are much too small for him; his considerable package outlined nicely at his tight crotch. No grin or smile, just a neutral facial expression with those brilliant eyes locked onto mine. I realize I've been holding my breath by the time he passes our booth and I let out a long exhale. Chubby looks up and asks, "You okay? You look pale." I nod that I'm okay and say, "You're the one acting strange. Are you sure there's nothing wrong? I really, really need this vacation to go really, really well." I thought he'd ask me why, but he just frowned a little and looked away mumbling, "We'll have a great time, Dylan. You'll see." Something's up and I do not need something to be up right now. I say, "Seriously, Chubby, you're acting funny. You couldn't even look at me just now. What is it?" He's shaking his head saying,"Nothing important. Ahh, here comes our milkshakes and cheeseburgers." I look behind me only to find no waitress coming. Chubby's like, "Gotcha!" I go, "Oh brother! That was cool about ten years ago, maybe. What's next, knock-knock jokes?" This conversation was going nowhere so we dropped it and discussed where we should take our moms for dinner. As our lunch arrived we finally settled on Uries Waterfront Restaurant eating outside on the deck; it's where the moms took us for dinner last summer. Chubby and I will both get the fried seafood combo platters with cole slaw and french fries. The moms always get something broiled, boring! Chubby seemed more like himself by the time we'd finished our lunch, maybe he was just hungry.

I drove us the rest of the way into Wildwood, which is to say a half hour on the New York thruway, across the Tappan Zee Bridge, and then two and a half hours down the Garden State Parkway . We have an EasyPassand thank god for that... there are so many toll booths on that road it's maddening. I drove straight to the rental office as they'd been advised we'd be picking up the key. The woman at the desk even sort of remembered Chubby from last year 'cause he had her laughing at his bizarre factoids. As for today, we said "Hello" then, Chubby looking real serious, asks her, "How's that rotogravure of yours?" She goes, "What's that you say?" and Chubby goes, "How rude of me, that's too personal, isn't it?" She shakes her head like there's a mosquito buzzing around it, and says, "I'm not supposed to give the key to anyone under twenty-one, are you old enough?" Chubby's like, "Rita... oh, is it okay if I call you Rita?" She says, "I'd prefer you call me Wanda since that's my name." He says, "Wanda, I'm twenty six years old so you can trust me with the key, but never trust my son here, he's a wild child and a tad unstable." She shakes her head again, handing me the key, saying, "Don't lose it 'cause it's a fifty dollar fee for another one." I say, "Thank you, Rita!" purposely getting her name wrong and she does the head shake again. Maybe she isn't the one who laughed at Chubby's factoids after all. I'm pretty sure adults aren't especially pleased with smart aleck teens, but we must be tolerated nonetheless. It was good seeing Chubby in his normal bizarre mood and when we unlocked the door to our summer condo all my past troubles seemed to melt away. Our vacation was great last year and there's no reason it won't be great this year too. We went out on the deck where we could just see the Atlantic Ocean five blocks away. There's a small opening between all the houses from here to there. They pack the rental units in as tight as they can near the ocean. Chubby says, "Let's go see if the boardwalk's still there."

It was after four o'clock by the time we hauled our stuff in from the car, locked up the condo and headed for the boardwalk. Smoking cigarettes as we walked, I confess to Chubby, "I know I'm supposed to be cool with everything now that I'm almost nineteen, but I get just as excited about Wildwood now as I did when I was twelve years old." Chubby says, "Of course! We all do, but ya gotta find a way to hide it. Pretend it's all a bit of an inconvenience, ya know?" I go, "Nah, I'm excited!" Then, there it is, across the street is a ramp leading up from the street to the boardwalk. We dodge some traffic crossing the street and run up the ramp onto the boardwalk and the endless Atlantic Ocean stretches out before us in both directions as far as we can see, straight ahead it goes to the horizon and beyond. Between the boardwalk and the ocean is the beach, it also extends for miles in either direct varying in depth from a mere twenty yards where the erosion has been the worst, to a hundred yards wide at the best beach locations. We've walked the miles of beach many times, gawking at the countless people sunbathing and swimming along the way. Chubby and I are quiet for a minute, leaning against the railing that protects the beach side of the boardwalk, taking in the spectacular view. It's a beautiful day with a high sky and a big bright yellow sun pouring warmth down on us as seagulls glide in the air squawking at the waves breaking on the shore. The dark water looks white as the waves break, then the water quickly rolls up the wet flat part of the beach until it runs out of energy and turns into foaming bubbles before undertow pulls it back to join the ocean once again, followed by another wave which then breaks on the beach, exactly like the previous one. Oceans are mesmerizing.

The boardwalk itself is over two miles from end to end, twenty to forty yards wide at different spots, all supported by pilings driven deep into the ground. It's called a boardwalk because it's made of boards, mostly pressure treated wood nowadays as most of the original boards have been replaced. The three piece metal railing we're leaning against runs the entire length of the boardwalk on the beach side, with breaks every block or so to allow for steps leading to the beach and to an occasional public lavatory. Along the other side of the boardwalk is a long row of shops. There's too many to count, and breaking up the line of shops at every block are ramps leading to the street and the parking lots below. At night the boardwalk is two miles of neon lights with some of the lights extending high into the night sky lighting up thrill rides like the double shot and the roller coasters. Night and day the hundreds of shops on the boardwalk offer an incredible array of items for sale. Every conceivable souvenir is available from cheap junk trinkets to high-end shops selling jewelry and watches and such, all kinds of specialty clothing shops and beach toys shops offering chairs and umbrellas and sun screens galore. There are numerous piercing and tattooing parlors and fresh lemonade stands, and booths featuring many other drinks, although no alcoholic beverages. Food shops of every description, including the expected hot dog, hamburger and pizza stands; also general candy shops, and specialty sweets shops selling only cotton candy, or salt water taffy or fudge of all kinds. Some of the fudge shops have cute high school boys in real short pants and tight T-shirts stirring vats of fudge in the plate glass windows at the front of the shops; high school girls and occasionally some brave gay boys gawk at the studs in the window and maybe go inside to buy some fudge stirred by their favorite boy. Other shops sell popcorn, caramel corn, kettle corn, Italian ice, slushies, ice creams from soft serve to premium brands, ice cream sundaes and the relatively new iced cream beads. Everything is yummy, but definitely bring your wallet because it's all wickedly over-priced too. And then there's all types of regular restaurants, you know, for the more formal diners. Chubby and me are not formal; we love Mac's pizza and a glass of Birch Beer. For dessert, deep fried fennel cakes with powered sugar and strawberries. From the various food stands comes many yummy smells to go with the constant hubbub of talking and laughing and shouting; babies crying and too-tired toddlers joining in with the parents scolding them in frustration. As you walk from one location to the other you hear different kinds of loud music coming from the water parks, gaming booths, and food stands and always present in the background is the unmistakable sounds from penny arcades' electronic games plus the screams of the timid from the thrill rides when you pass any one of the amusement parks.

We think it's all phat, but the best thing about the boardwalk are those amusement parks. Many of them scattered here and there throughout its two miles length. Add water parks, carnival style games that award prizes which aren't even worth what you paid to play, miniature golf courses, baseball cages you can try to hit balls from a pitching machine, basketball hoops for a price, make three in a row and win a teddy bear, and on and on it goes. There's something for everyone. Like I said, Chubby and I like the thrill rides best, and the best thrill ride is the double shot which is where we're headed right now. The double shot is a thrill ride that shoots you a hundred and fifty feet straight up in the air. The ride is shaped like a hexagon with six seats at each side. You're securely belted in with your feet dangling above the ground. There's a nervous wait with fake smoke and a couple of fake starts then with a ZOOM!!! the thing shoots up in the air a hundred feet in half a second with those who are new to the ride screaming their heads off. If you're wearing flip-flops or sandals, or any kind of shoe that isn't laced onto your foot, your foot-gear will not make the trip with you and often times your stomach is left behind as well, or at least that's what you think. The double shot comes to a complete stop way up in the air, you look around for two seconds before it shoots the next fifty feet up and you're sure there'll be a screw up of some kind and the thing will keep going up right off the top of the ride, but it comes to a dead stop for two seconds at the very top, way the hell up in the air, then returns to the boardwalk in one long death defying dive downward. The return trip is straight down in less than a second. It's exhilarating, but mostly you're relieved it's over and you've survived. The guys working the double shot come around then, and, in the bored manner that endless repetition can induce, unhook your harness allowing you to get out of your seat with shaky legs. Naturally us teens pretend it's nothing, but we're always happy when we've survived the double shot without someone hurling half way up or down... ewww, that can get messy!

After the ride we're both smiling at each other and babbling about how cool it was as we walk across the boardwalk to again lean against the railing looking out at the beach and the ocean. Then we both stop talking and I can feel the vibrations building in Chubby, whatever is troubling him is about to be revealed. Finally he takes a deep breath and says, "Okay, Dylan, you're right, there's something I need to tell you, but I'm afraid to say what it is." He wasn't fooling around now, but the last thing I need is another troubling thing. Pulling out my pack of Marlboro lights, I say, "You can tell me anything Chubby, I'll be cool with it." He mumbles, "I know you'd like to be cool about it, but I bet you won't be able to be." Lighting the cigarette, I say, "No, I'll be cool, what is it?" He takes another big breath and asks, "Ya don't happen to know Marsha Duvale, do ya?" I roll my eyes like, "Who the hell is that?" then go, "Oh wait, is she that really tall girl with the cleft palate and the orange hair who's always giggling?" He takes the cigarette from me with half a smile on his face and takes a drag staring at me funny like. With smoke coming out of his mouth he says, "No, not her. Do you really know someone like that?" I go, "Ahh, now that I think about it, no. No, I don't think I do. Who's Marsha whoever?" Chubby looks out to sea and mutters, "Oh God, this is hard..." I say, "Who is she?" and, without looking at me, he quietly says, "She's a good friend of Mary Jo's." I'm not feeling too good about this and I feel even worse when, a second later, he adds, "Her parents own a summer house in Wildwood Crest down the road here a few miles." He stops talking and, continuing to look out over the vast Atlantic Ocean, passes the cigarette in my direction. I take it inhale a drag feeling depressed 'cause obviously Mary Jo's going to be staying with this Marsha bitch. I ask, "When's she coming down?" Chubby says, "Tomorrow," but quickly adds, "She's gone back home Saturday, she'll only be here ya know, about five days and you can hang with us, Marsha's funny, you'll like her." I'm numb, this summer has sucked so bad! I can't wait till it's over and I get my ass to college. I quietly say, "No, I won't like her," and Chubby whines, "I know."

We finished the cigarette and drift back down the boardwalk to the ramp we'd come up on, but the joy is out of it for me. After a while Chubby quietly says, "I'm really sorry, Dylan. I only found out last night and what could I do? She arranged it with Marsha in secret to surprise me." I put my arm around his neck as we walked; then finally say, "Surprises suck! It's okay though, it's not your fault, but I am a little depressed, ya know." He goes, "You're really taking this well, Dylan, and I thank you for that so much. You could have made me feel even worse than I already do about this, but I'll make it up to you starting next Saturday, okay?" I'm like, "Sure, that'll be great." My heart wasn't in it though. I'm jinxed this summer, that's all there is to it. Chubby thinks I'm taking this well, but what can I do? Screaming isn't going to change anything. I feel a little bit pissed off though and my anger gives me a bit of daring; I'm making a pact with myself right now that if anything develops that looks interesting this week I'm going to jump right in and party. It's looking like I gotta change my approach and start thinking mostly about myself, like Ray Ellis. Ray's into thinking about himself first; well, with Ray it's thinking about himself first, second and third too. I don't need to go that far or be mean or dishonest about it, just look out for myself more and to hell with depending on others. The others, none of them, are coming through for me so I need to make something happen on my own, kinda like I did with Carl Denton... although I can do without the pompousness. Maybe I can have some wild affair or do something nuts with some cool sex buddy I meet, something hot that will spice up this lost week. Yeah, I bet I can! Chubby says, "You spaced out again, Dylan. What were you thinking?" I go, "Oh nothing, just that I don't want you to worry about me, you enjoy yourself with Mary Jo, I'll be fine." Chubby's like, "Okay, that's it! Who the hell are you and what have you done with my best friend?" I did a half-assed smile thinking, "Hey, maybe I am growing up. I'm pissed off, but why take it out on Chubby?" Hell, Chubby can't do anything about the situation. He's invited me to join him; it's me who'd rather go it on my own this week. It's my choice because I'd rather be by myself than pretend it's fun hanging with someone named Marsha something who has orange hair and giggles all the time. Anyway, I think someone said she has orange hair.

The moms arrived around seven and both appeared just about as excited as Chubby and me were when we got here. Maybe none of us ever grows up but adults pretend they have. Chubby and me unload the station wagon while the moms took showers. They both insisted they needed a few minutes to relax before dinner so we went out on the deck where they smoked a cigarette and drank a gin and tonic. Around eight thirty we left for the restaurant for our welcome-to-Wildwood seafood dinner, paid for with stolen money. The moms were surprised and quite impressed that we treated; it felt real good doing something nice for them. After dinner we walked the boards together and went on a few rides but only for about an hour because it's been a long day; the drive takes a toll on you. Chubby and I slept in the same double bed as last year and we did it just like we always do, in each others' arms. He wouldn't dare try protesting after the Marsha fiasco, so some good did come out of that disastrous situation. It was awesome sleeping with Chubby except I was real conscious of my boner poking him, but of course he didn't dare complain about that either. That's pretty cool. Chubby left for Wildwood Crest Sunday after breakfast. He'd again tried talking me into going with him, but I told him, "No reason we should both waste a perfectly good week at the shore, I'll pass on Wildwood Crest." He didn't look too thrilled driving off and that made me feel good for a minute and then I felt bad about feeling good. I don't wish a bad time on Chubby. After today there's only four more days before that pain in the ass Mary Jo goes back to Massachusetts where she belongs. In the meantime I'm going to the beach with the moms to get them settled in, and then I'll walk the beach looking for adventure.

It's a scorcher today so carrying our three aluminum beach chairs had me sweating bullets by the time we got down near the water. Happily, the temperature on the beach is much lower than inland due to the breeze off the ocean. I set up the chairs and trudged over to the beach stand to rent a beach umbrella 'cause the moms don't want too much direct sun. As usual there's a kid, about sixteen years old, working the stand. He's deeply tanned and wickedly fit, but not good looking. There's a girl ahead of me renting a canvas beach chair and this kid is falling all over himself trying to accommodate her. Watching him closely I notice that, while he isn't cute per se, he has a really cute smile. So, even with that plain, pie-pan face of his, he has a redeeming quality which he's using overtime trying to impress the girl. Not being in a hurry, and enjoying the kid's act, I waited patiently until he finally notices me and calls an even younger kid over to wait on me. This new kid is a freckled chunky boy working hard at being surly. I paid for the umbrella rental and the surly boy lugs it down to where mom and Tris are sitting. The rental guy is supposed to work the umbrella's pole deep into the sand but this tubby kid is too weak to manage the job. He's pissed, embarrassed and flustered so I help him and between the two of us we get the job done. The kid's maybe thirteen and looks a little like the older kid at the beach stand so they're probably brothers, three years makes a big difference in a boy's strength though and the same can be said about his appearance. While the younger boy resembles his brother, he's still young enough to almost qualify as cute. Unfortunately for him it appears he'll outgrow his limited amount of cuteness like his brother has. Anyway, the big beach umbrella is up and I'm sweating again having provided most of the manpower but the kid doesn't thank me, instead he stands there staring at mom and Tris until my mom smiles back at him, and then gets it. She says, "Oh, a tip!" Mom and Tris jump into action rustling through their respective beach bags looking for their money. They both come up with it at the same time and both thrust a couple dollars at the kid who takes it mumbling, "We collect the umbrellas at five." He didn't thank them either, he's off wading through the sand toward the rental stand stuffing the money in the back pocket of his baggy cargo shorts. I make a face at the moms and open my hands like, "Where's my tip?" but they just chuckle and Tris says to my mom, "Wasn't he the cutest thing!" The moms think every boy and almost every man is cute. My mom agrees with Tris, "Yes, he was, Tris." Then to me she says, "And thank you for helping him, honey! You're the sweetest boy!" Tris says, "Yes you are, Dylan," so I got no tip, but I got their well wishes going for me. Beginning my beach walk, I wave and say, in a joking manner, "You're right about me ya know, you're both extremely perceptive! See ya later," and I'm off to walk the beach and to see what there is to see.

Obviously I'm primarily boy watching and the beach is an awesome place to do that. In fact I can't think of a better place. There are huge numbers of people ranging in age from babies to super seniors; of course, I'm focused on the teenage boy population. It took me an hour to walk a mile because I'd often circle back to recheck certain guys. Even guys in their early twenties can occasionally be worth a second look. I have fun doing this and after spotting a rare hottie I sometimes make up a quick fantasy for the two of us; that's hot too so I usually have a firm penis in my boardies which I keep sideways to hide it although it can be detected by the more observant sunbathers. The thing is, most people don't even notice me checking them out. Some do though and since I only check out guys of a certain age the guys who catch me are usually about my age. Some of their looks reflect the unmistakable and infamous challenge, "What the fuck are you looking at?!" I look away immediately because that's a no-win situation. Others that catch me staring will stare back innocently unaware of my interest in them, and then there's the rare stare back that somehow indicates he knows what I'm up to and is inviting me in, so to speak. I think they're inviting me in, but I'm not positive they are so I need one of them to take the lead 'cause it's not really in me to initiate first contact. There are also the older men I catch staring at me and I know their story, which I'm definitely not interested in. It's a game really, although not everyone follows the same rules. All my ogling today merely verifies what I already know: Minus the fatties, eighty-five to ninety percent of teen boys have at least one feature about them that's cute, and most have more than one. Another way of looking at it is that ten to fifteen percent don't even have a single attribute that can be considered cute: looks, smile, personality, nothing. It's all very subjective of course, but my conclusions are basically irrefutable because my knowledge of cuteness is very well developed. The most discouraging stat is that only a small percentage of all non-fatty boys qualify as legitimately cute... much less than one in ten can be considered a full-blown cute boy, these are rare.

Mulling all this over in my head I spot something interesting, which is not to say cute 'cause this kid doesn't really qualify for that; he's strangely exotic though. I take a long look at this tall, very thin boy about my age who's displaying what I think is one of the Mohawk man's Mohawk haircuts. That's what initially caught my attention. I'm referring to the Mohawk man from the Mohawk Piercing shop on the boardwalk where last year I got my ear pierced; I got a lot of other stuff along with it like a spanking and a fucking, but that's another story. This beach boy's Mohawk is gelled-up to stand at least seven inches off his head, light brown hair near the roots and then dyed a bright blue color at the top. He's got two pierced earrings in each ear, a small hoop through both side of his nostrils and a stud through his bottom lip. His face kinda reminds me of a bird, meaning his head seems to slope in from his ears. His eyes are a little bit too close together and his small pointed nose is sorta like a bird's beak. I don't know, he's so unusual I guess you could say he's cute in a very odd sort of way. Uh oh, he just glanced in my direction and caught me gawking at him. He's staring back but not in a challenging way, more like he was expecting me. His head is slightly cocked to the side, his lips in a slight grin, his eyebrows slightly raised like, "Ah ha, I've been waiting for you!" Then, there it is, he makes the initial contact. He's sitting by himself in a rented beach chair and he does that "come here" wiggle with his index finger. I thought of two things: the omen of the kid with the Mohawk at lunch in Denny's and my own vow to experience something new, and to be aggressive and wild about it if need be. What the hell, no one else seems all that interested in me so I'll look for new things that might turn out to be interesting, if ya know what I mean. Anyway, I'm curious what he wants, no way I've ever seen him before or I would have remembered. Making my way to this strange creature requires stepping around sunbathers and avoiding little kids running right in front of me carrying pails and little sand shovels, giggling and having fun. As I'm making progress towards bird-boy I'm trying to think who else did that finger wiggle "come here!" thing to me recently, who the heck was it? Oh yes, Ray at the mall... and, hey, that turned out real good.

When I'm within six feet of this unique looking boy he stands up and takes a step towards me, asking, "Is he ready for me now?" Right away I see it's a case of mistaken identity, he thinks I'm someone else. I say, "Huh?" His voice is slightly high pitched and, I don't know, sort of humble sounding. This close to him I can see two tattoos on each of his upper arms: some kind of Chinese script and that barbed wire bracelet thingie, and I don't know what the hell the other two are. For some reason I get the distinct impression he's a nice person, weird maybe, but nice. He's wearing only a small speedo bathing suit that reminds me of a certain kid named Dodger. What's noticeably different between Dodger's and this kid's speedo is the huge bulge at the crotch of bird-boy here. The bulge is so large it's almost comical, particularly in the bikini type speedo he's wearing. Up close I can also see hair growth on either side of the Mohawk; it's about an inch long standing up like a high buzz cut. His head's so tan it looked like the authentic Mohawk from a distance; authentic is when the head is shaved to the scalp except for the strip of hair running down the middle of the head. He's blushing as he says, "Oh, you're not from the Mohawk Piercing shop, are you? I'm so sorry to bother you, I thought you..." I butt in with, "No bother. Hey, I was in there once. It was last year when I got my ear pierced." He smiles and says, "That tells me you're a tourist, right?" I nod my head that he's right, and he adds, "He would surely make you one of his special boys if you were a local." I say "Oh, yeah?" and then we're out of things to say. It gets awkward so the strange boy decides to prolong things by introducing himself, he politely says, "Um, my name is Gary Rothingsburger. May I be so bold as to ask what yours is?" I tell him and we step closer to do an abbreviated hand shake but instead of letting go, he holds onto my hand and asks, very meekly, "Ya wanna come some place with me?" I nod my head that I will because he's hypnotized me with his calmness and his politeness and his almost ballet-like movement and quiet niceness. Smiling, he pulls me gently along with him, continuing to hold my hand. Following him I'm thinking that I should have pulled my hand away but since I didn't do it right away it will be too awkward to do it after holding hands this long. As you might imagine, we received quite a few second looks from others on the beach but Gary paid them no mind. He reminds me of Willie in that regard.

Walking slightly behind him he appears even taller than I originally thought; it's because of the high Mohawk sticking up from his head. My guess is he's about six foot-two and then add another seven inches of Mohawk onto that. I can't believe how slim he is either, and yet I don't see any ribs sticking out or anything; he's sleek and extremely graceful in everything he does. As we walk around the sunbathers on the beach he's saying something that I can't make out so I say, "Huh? What's that?" He turns his head and says, "Rene's suppose to fix my Mohawk today, you know, the grown-in part. Have you ever had a Mohawk?" Although I don't know who Rene is, it seems to me that Gary spoke of him as if I did. I'm feeling meek all of a sudden because we're strangers and our whole interaction is surreal, plus he's holding my hand like an adult holds a child's hand... it's totally weird. He's looking back at me now, not even looking where he's walking, giving me a sweet grin, waiting for my reply to his bizarre Mohawk comments. I quietly mumble, "Um.. ah, no, I've never had a Mohawk haircut." At that he looks startled and stops in his tracks, I almost crash into him. He's stopped right at the edge of a blanket that a middle aged man and woman are sunbathing on; some sand was kicked up on the edge of the blanket by Gary 's big feet. Still holding my hand, Gary looks at my hair, then runs the fingers of his free hand through it saying, very seriously, "Oh, you should get a Mohawk, you really should. And anyway, ah, please don't take offense, but why do you chose this childish haircut style?" He's referring to the way Carl Denton cut my hair a couple of days ago. I'm looking at the woman on the blanket closest to Gary, she can easily hear everything we're saying, she's looking up at me with this incredulous look as if to say, "You can't be serious!" Gary's unconcerned. Looking back at him, I say, in the same serious tone he's using, "It wasn't my choice; someone just cut it like this for me without asking. I usually have a cool hair style." The woman squints her eyes like, "Can I believe this?" then clears her throat, "Ah huh!" as the man sits up and raises a finger trying to get our attention. Gary glances at them both, but it's as if they're not even there, he has no reaction; then, looking back at me with eyes the color of the ocean, he says, "Oh, I'm sure you usually do have a cool haircut, Dylan. I'm not implying you wouldn't, it's just... ah, well, I noticed this haircut you have now and just wondered, that's all. A Mohawk is what you need, you really do." This is maybe the most awkward situation imaginable. I mean what can these two people on the blanket be thinking about us? We're holding hands talking about haircuts standing one inch from their blanket; it's as if they're in the conversation. Gary has another unexpected pause, then adds, "People probably tell you this all the time, but I gotta say it anyway, you have the most beautiful hair I've ever seen." He runs his fingers through it again and adds, so quietly I barely hear him, "and face too." Then, blushing, he turns around and, still holding my hand, continues his march down the beach kicking more sand on the man and woman's blanket as he tows me past them. The look on the adults' faces was priceless and almost worth the awkwardness of the encounter. Gary's long strides required me hustling to keep up with him.

His hand is very large with long graceful fingers, but thin like his wrist, my wrist is bigger than his and I've always thought my wrists were too thin. As we plowed through the sand I'm thinking how odd it is that he should question my haircut when he has a hairdo that's much more unusual than mine. Of course, instead of thinking about that I should have been wondering where he's taking me, but then I guess we're there as he once again stops dead in his tracks with me actually bumping into him this time... he looks at me and smiles sweetly, but has another one of his quiet spells instead of speaking. We're in front of a public lavatory, one of the ones located at the bottom of steps extending down from the boardwalk. After maybe thirty seconds, Gary says, "This is one of the few public bathrooms with stall doors that extend all the way to the floor, so don't worry that we'll be observed." I look at him questioningly, and say, "Huh? Whadda ya mean?" He smiles at me; this time with humor in his eyes like he knows I'm joking, although I'm not. He pushes the door open with his free hand, pulling me in behind him. Glancing around quickly Gary turns to me and excitedly, but quietly, exclaims, "Oh good! There's a couple of open stalls!" This place smells funny, a urine odor, but some kind of strange stale odor too. Heavy breathing coming from the first stall we walk past, so it's either someone straining a stool or maybe some kinda sex is going on. Gary takes us to the last stall, next to the far wall of the lavatory. An unoccupied stall is on the other side of ours, he mumbles, "Perfect!"

Inside the stall Gary puts his index finger to his lips like, "Shhhh" and locks the door motioning that I should pull down my bathing suit and sit on the toilet seat. I look down to see there's no full toilet cover, just one of those black toilet seats with an opening in the front. The opening is there so that guys too lazy to lift the seat don't dribble their pee on the seat. I look at Gary, unsure of myself, and he raises his eyebrows nodding his head encouragingly. What the fuck, I've vowed to be crazy and wild. Almost in a trance, I slowly pull my swimsuit down past my knees and sit on the toilet seat. Then, to my surprise, I take a nervous pee. Gary smiles, then chuckles with his hand over his mouth, real casual and friendly like. When I shake the last drop of pee from my dick, feeling incredibly ill at ease, Gary pinches my cheek while silently mouthing what looks like "You're beautiful!" as he pulls his speedo bathing suit down allowing his long cock and longer sac of nuts to swing free. Incredible all that mass can be concealed in a bikini speedo. His penis is as long as Willie's and about the same circumference as mine; it only looks skinny due to its length. His nuts are very round, prominently displayed at the bottom of the longest scrotum I've ever seen. It's a hairless scrotum that hangs a good three inches below his cock. My eyes are wide staring at his nuts as Gary says, quite seriously, "They're really something, aren't they? Rene's been stretching them with weights for quite some time now, he says they're low enough, but I wish he'd change his mind and take them lower. It's quite painful on my nuts, but I think I like that." Then he gently squeezes the back of my neck, pulls my head forward and rubs his cock against my lips. Quietly, he says, "This is for a little later." He drops his long limp dick and lifts his balls, saying, "You can put these in your mouth first, okay? Do you mind?" Like I said, his voice and his mannerisms hypnotize me. In a trance I open my mouth, "A little wider if you can, Dylan." I open as wide as I can and he pushes both nuts inside my mouth, spreading them on my tongue; they're quite heavy. Part of his scrotum is resting on my chin, the remainder reaches quite a ways up disappearing into his thick pubic patch. He's looking me in the eyes doing the little head nods encouraging me to get going so I suck and lick these round walnuts, inhaling his odor as I'm doing it; the odor's not particularly offensive but it is strong. Not musky like Ray's, more like musty, like going into my grandmother's cellar... that kind of dank smell.

Gary's licking around his lips and rubbing his left nipple, quietly mumbling, "Nice, ohh yeah, that's good, Dylan..." and as his dick firms up, so did mine. Two minutes or so and he says, "Ohhh, that felt good. Now you can suck my cock, Dylan. Can you deep throat? Have you learned that yet? You look so young, maybe you're too young for that...?" I'm in a trance, this is so surreal! I hold his dick in my fingers and, adopting his seriousness, say, "No, I'm not too young, I'm almost nineteen," and he looks surprised, saying, "I thought sixteen at the oldest. Wow, this is good! Go ahead now, get it hard and I'll fuck your face a bit for ya, okay?" Can I believe this? I nod my head and lick around the base of his cock, then do quick wet sucking kisses at spots on the inside of his thighs at the edge of his bush leaving spit behind, he shudders and says, "Ohh, that gave me goose bumps. Please do it again," so I exaggeratedly did more wet sucking kisses on the inside of both his thighs right next to his scrotum and then right on his scrotum and on the base of his cock; his dick hardened more in my hand. After lapping his cock for a minute, getting it wet with my spit, I put the head inside my mouth and sucked on it like an all-day sucker. It got bone hard then, my hands hold onto Gary 's hips as he gently and slowly pulls my head onto his cock till it's at the back of my throat, his dark eyes are big when he humps his hips forward propelling that long boner past my gag reflex area and into my esophagus. Gary's eyes close and his head goes back savoring the sensations coming off the head of his long boner, he bites his bottom lip and groans. Looking back down at me now he slowly, half inch by half inch, pushes that long cock deeper and deeper until the thick crinkly hairs of his bush surround my mouth, some of the hairs going up my nose. Gary let out a long, quiet "Shhhhhhhhhhit!" then, "Oh my god, this feels so good!" Pulling his cock back out, he whispers, "You really can suck cock!" and, after letting me suck the hard head of his cock for a bit, back down it goes until his bush surrounds my mouth and nose again. This times he pulls back just far enough that my nose is out of his bush, then back down till my face is squashed against his hairy groin again; he repeats those short thrusts a half dozen times, then pulls all the way out, air rushes into my mouth and throat feeling wonderful. He exclaims, "I almost climaxed, Dylan!" He's holding his dripping boner, me still sitting there with my boner now resting on the porcelain toilet rim in between the toilet seat's opening, spit dripping down my chin. I'm looking up at Gary casually pulling two of his pubic hairs from my mouth, and wondering what's next. He reaches down into the little change pocket of his speedo and comes up with a condom packet which he rips open with his teeth. "I always carry a condom," he explains. I nod my head obediently, as if saying "of course you do!" As he's rolling the condom onto his long penis pole, he says, "Ya probably can get up now and maybe just turn around and hold onto the back of the toilet tank there. Or would you rather get fucked standing up straight?"

I'm staring at his long boner thinking, "Willie's cock always felt good up my ass" so I stood up and turned around, mumbling, "Standing up straight, I guess." Gary didn't hesitate, he aligned his cock with my anus, applied enough pressure so that the head was halfway inside me, then got hold of both my upper arms to hold me in place and very gently did more pressure and more pressure until the head slid in all the way, I went "Oh yeah!" He goes, "Shhhh," took a couple of quick breaths, then slowly but surely pushed further and further up my ass until he was flush against me, his crinkly pubic hairs plastered flat against my buttocks. Gary hugged his arms around me under my pecs, the side of his face next to mine and, using only his hip motion, fucked me in the most wonderful way. Long, steady fabulous strokes up my ass. I exerted pressure against the side of his face with mine and let out little moans of pleasure as Gary's grunting quietly in my ear. My cock is hard against my belly, then, as the erotic feeling of being fucked hard increased, more blood seeps into the penile tissue getting my boner even harder, the extra hardness pulling it away from my belly until it's sticking straight out. Precum drips as the urge to stroke it is strong but Gary 's got my arms pinned to my sides. Five minutes, tops, and I do a long moan of pleasure, squeeze my groin and buttocks muscles with all my might, and fire a thin stream of cum straight out to splatter against the toilet tank, then a desperate grunt from me with more muscle clenching and another string of cum flew out landing on the toilet seat contrasting it's creamy whiteness with the seat's blackness, then two short quick strings of cum land in the water; finally cum drooling out to run down the underside of my boner. My whole body is shaking as shivers run around my groin, my toes curling as I stand barefoot on this yucky lavatory floor. Gary turns his head to bite my ear, then sucks it into his mouth and picks up the speed of his thrusts up my ass, his crotch slamming into my buttocks with that thick bush of his silencing the collisions. He humped my ass for another couple of minutes before letting my spit soaked ear escape his sucking mouth and he unloads spunk from those big nuts of his, filling up the condom. He made a high pitched sound at his initial climax, but allowed himself only quiet sounds, mostly heavy breathing, for the follow-up shots; there were a half dozen of those before he was drained.

Garyrocked our bodies sideways as he hummed in my ear, his long cock still up my ass. It was quiet in here, our bodies sweaty, my dick still tingling and feeling good as I lay against Gary and listened to him hum. It was a tune I thought I should know, but couldn't place. Then the door from the stall two down from ours slammed open against another stall door and someone yelled, "Fuck you, asshole. See if I care!" An immediate response to that was, "Fuck me? No, fuck you!!! Don't call me again!" and then the outside door of the lavatory swung open and slammed shut and there was silence once more except for a barely heard giggle from a stall down the line. As if that disturbance never happened, Gary whispers in my ear, "How was it for you, Dylan? You have a wonderful bum for fucking, just wonderful! I loved doing it with you!" I whispered back, "It was fantastic for me, Gary. You're the awesome one!" In the most sincere manner imaginable, he says, "Oh, thank you so much. You're too nice." Then he tightened his hug for two seconds before pulling his long boner out of me, it came out just as slowly as it had gone in and when the head popped free of my sphincter I missed it immediately. I love the feel of a hard cock up my ass. Gary's condom was sagging with it load of cum as he carefully pulled it off and dropped it in the toilet to join my cum and urine. "Would you step on that lever and flush the toilet, please." I tried but the bottom of my foot felt slimy from standing in the gunk on the floor, it slid on the lever as I applied pressure and I needed to push it again to get it to flush. "God, Gary, what are we standing in?" He says, "There's a lot of piss and spunk on these floors. I've got flip flops on but you, poor thing, are barefoot. Ugh! Come on out to the sinks and I'll wash your feet for ya." He's wiping excess cum off his dick with the rough toilet paper you find in public lavatories. I use some to wipe lube from my ass, asking, "Wash my feet? Are you serious?" He's like, "Oh, yes. I should have thought about you having bare feet. We coulda bought some cheap flip flops at the drug store before coming in here. It's my fault, so washing your feet is the least I can do." He's pulling up his tiny speedo creating the huge bulge again and of course now I understand why the bulge is so big. I pull up my boardie swimsuit as Gary 's mumbling to himself, "Man, that was so good!"

We exit our stall and I see there's still one stall in use. Gary paid it no mind; he bent at the waist, got an arm around my back and one under my legs and picked me up like I was weightless. I go, "Oh, wha...?" He sits me on the rim of the last sink of four in a row and says, "Put your feet in the next sink, Dylan, and I'll wash them." I do what he says holding onto the sink I'm sitting on for support. Gary stops-up the drain with paper towels and turns on warm water until my feet are covered with it. He pushes at the soap dispenser plunger a few times, lifts my foot with his other hand and lathers the soap all over my foot working his fingers between my toes and back at the heel and up on my ankle, then uses both hands to vigorously massage the soapy foot, then puts it back in the water to do the other foot. I'm in another trance 'cause this is way out there! Picking up the other foot he begins the same energetic washing just as the last stall door opens and two middle aged men in bathing suits emerge; one's rubbing his ass and the other's rubbing his crotch. Duh! I wonder what those two were up to? The barrel-chested man with dyed bronze-colored hair on his head and large chumps of black underarm hair says to Gary , "Wheee, I'm next!" Gary, in his polite, but now firm way, says, "Please mind your own business and we'll do the same." The other man was partially bald, the rest of his head was shaved but had grown-in to stubble, he goes, "Oh fuck off, twinky! Fairies!" as the two leave in a huff.

Gary's not flustered or bothered in the least. It's as if that never happened, he says, "Dylan, you have the most perfect feet I think I've ever seen! They're kinda small, and please don't think I'm being critical saying that, I love the feel of them. They're narrow and perfectly formed without a hair or a vein anywhere. Your toes are like a drawing, they slant down in size from the big toe to the little toe in perfect increments, perfect toenails with that little half moon of pale pink at the bottom of each one; even the little toe." He's using his thumb nail to clean under each of my toenails. This might be the oddest thing ever, but then again; I seem to attract odd things. He's holding my foot up with a hand under my calf and all of a sudden turns to say, as if he just thought of it, "Your calves are perfect too. I love your little body, it's stupendous!" All I can think to do is offer a half smile to his off the wall comments, after all, I'm not little. I'm five feet ten inches tall. Then, all of a sudden a question hits me: how'd he know I'd go along with this adventure in the lavatory? So I ask him, "Gary, how'd ya know I'd do all this with you?" Gary had let the dirty soapy water drain out and was now refilling the basin with clean water, he stops and looks at me with a puzzled expression. "Oh my God, Dylan! Ya know, I have no idea how I knew. That was so brazen of me, wasn't it? But, ya know, it seemed we were somehow communicating. I never had a doubt you'd want to suck my cock and have me fuck you, but I don't know why. Let me think back. Could it have been the way you looked at me, yes... your eyes; they're extremely sexy and inviting. And, and, ah... it's the way your ass moved when you were walking towards me. And your ass is like the best ass I've ever seen and your body is inviting too somehow, but I don't know if I consciously thought about any of that until just now. It was instinctive, I guess. Of course, there's the fact you didn't protest me holding your hand too; oh, a lot of things, Dylan. Don't boys come on to you all the time? I should think they would." He's re-washing both feet, really massaging them now and they feel fine, they're tingly and very pinkish-white and clean; shiny even. I'm thinking about what Gary just said and how that horrible Joel had said something similar except he insinuated I'm purposely inviting attention, and that's not the case at all. Gary's drying my feet now; he'd washed halfway up each calf too, and that, along with all the massaging, left my feet and calves buzzing with blood and feeling fantastic.

"Okay, Dylan, all nice and clean. How's your bumper feel, is it sore at all from me fucking you? I could sit you in a sink of hot water." I quickly say, "Oh no! Thanks for the offer, but I'm good. My bumper's good." He says, "Okay then, here we go then," and he picks me up like before and carries me to the door where I give the handle a good tug to open it wide, Gary steps through it and sets me down on the sand. "How 'bout we get something to drink," he says. I don't have footgear and neither of us have a shirt with us so we can't go on the boardwalk. We walk under it and come out on the street where there's a pushcart vender selling hotdogs and sodas. Gary goes into that tiny speedo's change pocket again and comes up with a small wadded-up pack of dollar bills. He unravels them, two twenties and a five. He uses the five to treat me to a can of Lipton iced tea and gets himself a bottled water. We sit on a bench at the bottom of the boardwalk's ramp drinking our drinks with me wishing I had a cigarette; how'd I forget to bring them? Hey, maybe Gary has a pack of cigarettes in that tiny change pocket too! It takes Gary three long pulls on his water bottle to finish it off; in the same time I've taken three regular swallows leaving almost a full can. He says, "Would you keep me company while I check on something? I need to check in at the Mohawk Piercing shop. The back entrance is just across that parking lot there." That's an intriguing thought, I wonder if the Mohawk man will remember me? I'm sticking with my wild adventurous mood so why not, let's check it out. I mean, me and the Mohawk man left on good terms last summer so why not see what's up, I say, "Sure Gary, I'm game." With me gulping down the iced tea we walk across the parking lot and believe me we're still attracting a lot of attention, not that Gary noticed. We're quite a sight though: I'm walking on hot blacktop taking gulps from a can while doing like a step dance or something 'cause it's so hot on my bare feet. In addition, we're illegally bare-chested and one of us is a real tall gangling bird-faced boy who's sporting the weirdest Mohawk most people have ever seen. I felt self-conscious at first but then realized I didn't know these people, so why should I care what they think... yet, I do care.

We enter the shop off the boardwalk with Gary explaining, "He doesn't like me using the back door unless I'm expected. Ya know?" No, I don't know, but I follow him inside the shop anyway and immediately see the gray-haired older man I remember from last year. He's a big guy, about fifty years old, who I'm sure is the Mohawk man's father, and there's the Mohawk man's sister behind another counter talking to a customer. She looks over, says something to the customer, and then walks toward us wiggling her fingers at Gary like she's saying "hi" but Garystares blankly back at her. This young woman and her brother, Mohawk man, from what I remembered about him, appear to be in their early twenties with the brother maybe being younger. Like the father, both his kids are covered with tattoos and piercings. To me, all that tattooing and piercing is ugly. A tat and a pierced ear is cool, but these people overdo it to the maximum. She, like her brother, would be good looking except that the piercings and tats turn them both into gargoyles. When she's made her way over to where we're standing, she says, "Yo Gary, wassup, dude?" It's obvious she likes Gary, maybe even has a little crush on him although they'd make a very unusual looking couple. He says, "Oh, Ilene, hi!" like he's surprised to see her here. They look at each other without speaking for a few uncomfortable seconds, the mood broken when Garyasks, "Is Rene busy?" I'm thinking "Rene? The Mohawk man is Rene! Somehow the name doesn't fit his image." Ilene says, "There's two college kids back there getting belly button piercings so he'll be a little while with them." Gary frowns and then nods his head like this is very surprising. Ilene makes a face that maybe she thinks is sexy, pokes Gary's side and, leaving her finger there, asks, "Can I help ya with something?" Gary shakes his head and says, in his usual dead serious manner, "Oh Ilene, Rene would be furious if anyone else messed with my Mohawk." She holds up both hands defensively, saying, "Jesus H Christ, Gary ! I didn't know you needed a haircut, that's strictly Rene's business." Gary gulps as they both contemplate the disaster that would occur if Ilene touched Gary's Mohawk. I'm thinking, "What a weird group! They seem harmless though." Ilene glances at me and asks, "Who's this twink ya got with ya?" I hold out my hand and say, "I'm Dylan Newman from Framingham, Massachusetts. Rene pierced my ear and put this earring in for me last summer. I just want to say "Hi!" and give him a shout out. Ya know?" She touches my hand with a couple of fingers, furrows her eyebrows and squints her eyes at Gary , like, "What the fuck planet is he from?" Gary says, "Oh Ilene, Dylan's wonderful! Please don't make that face." Done with us now, she flips her hand at us and says, "Fuck you then, Gary. You can wait for Rene outside the piercing room." This doesn't bother Gary either, he seems pleased and in an upbeat manner, like she did him a big favor, goes, "Hey, thanks a lot, Ilene!" and we drift over toward the piercing room. There are about a dozen people milling around the shop looking in the display cases at various earrings, bars, studs, whatever. Many of the customers are outlandish looking too, so I'm pretty much the only one who seems out of place. We sat on the same bench outside the piercing room door that I sat on just about a year ago.

Gary's doing that humming thing again, I ask him, "What's that song you're humming?" He goes, "It's 'Monday, Monday' by The Mommas and the Poppas." I stare at him wondering if he just made that up on the spur of the moment 'cause I never heard of either one of those people. I'm looking at him and he smiles back pleasantly, giving nothing away. Then we hear a muffled scream from the other side of the piercing room's door, it sounds like, "Motherfucker!!!" and then a clear, "Owww! Goddammit!" Gary and I look at each other and he snickers, "Not everybody likes pain. It gives me a hard dick sometimes." I don't know if he's serious about that either. The door opens and two college age guys come out, they've both wearing cargo shorts and T-shirts, they're legs are muscular and very hairy, with sandals on their big feet. Very mature looking but you can tell somehow they're not as old as they look. Nondescript faces on both; nothing interesting to me at all. The taller of the two is saying, "Bullshit with that, I'm not getting it done!" The other one's holding a bandage to his belly, shouting, "You're a pussy, ya know that!" as they storm out the side door. Gary watches them as if it's the most normal interaction ever. When the yelling fades, he cheerfully says, "Okay, Dylan, let's see Rene now." I'm looking out the side door's window at the two college kids as they argue while walking down the boardwalk. Gary's standing, waiting for me; he's like, "Dylan, wanna come with me?" holding out his hand and for some reason I take hold of it and he leads me to the door, knocks once, and we go in holding hands.

I'd forgotten how big Mohawk man... er, Rene is. Weight lifting muscles bulging his biceps. His back is to us as we walk in and my eyes go to the brightly colored tattoos on the back of his neck, running up onto his scalp on either side of his Mohawk hairdo. He snaps his head around with a scowl on his face when the door clicks shut, his face is a nightmare of tattoos and piercings. He stares at me for a minute and then at Gary, the silence is kinda scary although Gary couldn't be more relaxed; a goofy grin accompanying his humming. Rene is sporting a ten inch high Mohawk gelled to stand up off his otherwise bald head. Last summer the hairs were black near the scalp, from about halfway up to the tips of the hairs the color faded from dark red to pink. This year the color halfway up begins a dark orange and gets lighter and lighter until the tips fade out to a pale gold color. He's barefoot and darkly tanned, wearing what looks like pajama bottoms and a vest without a shirt. Tattoos cover his chest and stomach. There's some black lip gloss neatly applied to his lips and black nail polish on his fingernails and toenails. Rene's looking at us blankly and we're looking back at him the same way, no one is saying anything to anybody just like earlier with Ilene and Gary. It's awkward for me, but they appear comfortable with it so I give a quick glance to Gary, who's still holding my hand, to see if I'm missing something. No clues for me there, he seems as serene as if he's swinging in a hammock on a beautiful day, without a care in the world. They're both displaying an easy smile so the scary feeling dissipates quickly; there doesn't appear to be trouble in the air. After maybe thirty seconds, that seemed like half an hour to me, Rene moves his head in a very gay stereotypical manner, and in an affected lisping way, says, "Gary?" making it a question. I'm thinking, "That's it, that's all he's got to say??!"

Gary nods his head, looks down at me and squeezes my hand tighter for a second, then says, "Hi, Rene." I'm biting the inside of my cheek thinking, "What the fuck?"

As we enter a new quiet period, the Mohawk man is now staring at me. Another half hour passes, or so it seems, before Gary says, "Oh yeah, Rene" and he holds up his hand, the one I'm holding onto, to say, "This is my friend, Dylan Newman." The Mohawk man lisps, "Dylan and I already know each other, don't we darling?" It dawns on me that there never was anything scary going on between these two, just oddness. Still, oddness can make one nervous too so I nod my head "yes" at Rene's question and tighten my hold on Gary's hand which is now back at his side. Gary's of course acting as if all this is perfectly normal behavior. He clears his throat finally and gets to the reason he's here, asking, "Oh, before I forget, are you going to have time to redo my Mohawk for me today, Rene? It's grown in quite a bit." Rene, continuing to stare at me, says, "Of course, Gary. And you darling, are you getting your Mohawk today too?" I shake my head "no" and croak out, "No, not today, Mohawk ma... uh, I mean, Rene." At that Mohawk man breaks out with a big smile, and he really would be handsome if he hadn't fucked-up what nature gave him. After the quick smile, he walks, or I should say swishes, his way over to get right on top of me; then, using both hands to bunch up my hair in the middle of my head, imitating a Mohawk, he murmurs, "We had a good time last summer, didn't we. Did you tell Gary about it?" I shook my head "no" and Rene, still looking at me, tells Gary, "I spanked him hard till he was bawling like a baby and then fucked him even harder and it was quite something." No one says anything until Rene asks me, "Wasn't it something, sweetheart? Would you like a repeat performance?" His hand is behind my head massaging the back of my neck. Before I can say anything; Gary, in his matter of fact way of speaking, as if he just remembered it, says, "I fucked him too, but didn't spank him. I washed his feet though." The Mohawk man gives an exaggerated look of annoyance, then, pointing a finger at Gary, he shouts forcefully, "Don't talk to me about feet!" Gary smiles, unperturbed, and again asked, "Can you please redo my Mohawk today?" Rene is still massaging the back of my neck with his large hand, I can feel the strength in it. He ignores Gary 's question and instead pulls my head over so he can put his pierced lips on my ear to say, "You didn't answer my question sweetheart, should you and I do it all again? You really loved it last year, didn't you?" I squeaked out a barely audible "I guess so."

Rene lets go of me then and is all business with Gary , "I sent Mickey down to get you on the beach when I had free time to do your haircut earlier, but he couldn't find you. Oh, and don't even dream of asking me to dye it another color." Gary is very animated, "Oh, Rene, I'm so sorry I missed Mickey but I was probably fucking Dylan then... I'm really sorry. Can't you please, please, please help me out because I have a date with Buck tonight and I promise I won't ask for a new color. Okay?" Rene flicks his head and says, in a dainty sort of way, "Well, since you put it that way, of course I can take care of you my dear boy. That's if you have twenty dollars... do you?" Gary has this agreeable grin as he shakes his head "yes" and the Mohawk man says, "Tell Buck I miss his fat ass." Gary looks puzzled, and says, "Buck doesn't have that fat of an ass." Mohawk man is back to messing with my hair. He ignores Gary's protest, waits a few seconds, and tells him, "Well, go ahead Gary, get up in the barber chair." Gary doesn't move fast enough so Rene repeats himself, this time sounding impatient, "Let go of Dylan's hand and get up in the chair!" Gary says, "Oh, sure thing, Rene." He lets go of my hand and walks across the room to the barber area. Rene engulfs me with his arms pulling me against him and whispers in my ear again, "Come tomorrow during my lunch break. One o'clock tomorrow, I'll give you the full works this time and all for free to make up for my misunderstanding last year, and because you're delicious." He gives me a little kiss next to my nose, a couple of his piercings scraping my cheek. Then he says, "One PM! Take a brochure from the counter, that's important because it'll explain all about the works," as he's sashaying over to the barber chair where he puts a cape around Gary, and then says over his shoulder, "This will take some time, honey, so you run along now." Gary calls after me, "Maybe I'll see ya on the beach tomorrow, Dylan." Rene snapped on barbers clippers and begins running them over Gary 's head. I was dismissed so I mumble, "See ya!" as I'm backing out the door grateful to be escaping the Alice in Wonderland rabbit hole and also for getting away safely from the anthropomorphic creature who resides there.

Holy shit! Did I ever have an adventure this afternoon! Wow, it was sexy hot at times and scary at other times, but weird all the time. Ha ha! I feel good! I'd taken a chance and got myself fucked awesomely in the process. Walking back the way Gary and I had come, under the boardwalk to the beach, I began my journey down the beach to where the moms are. Shuffling along in the sand I couldn't get Gary and Rene out of my mind. My ass felt awesome and I was proud of myself for not chickening out on anything that happened. It was quite a trip alright and it's so strange the way Gary and I bonded. It's almost like we'd known each other for years. He certainly is different from my other gay friends, especially in the looks department. Well, that's if I have any gay friends left. Okay, Gary is goofy but I like him anyway. Naturally I have no intention of ever going back to the Mohawk Piercing shop although I do get boned-up a little from just thinking about it. Talk about dominant! Gary wasn't dominant although he wasn't shy either, he's gentle and sweet and he simply did what he thought we both wanted, and we both did want it. The Willie comparison isn't a bad one; they're both oblivious to what's going on around them, but there isn't anything bossy about Gary while Willie is very bossy, not that I minded at all. The dominant one is Rene, of course. He's got a commanding air about him while acting a bit feminine which I wouldn't have thought could work, but it does. What a freaky guy, but yet my boner is getting harder from just thinking about the fuck he laid on my ass last summer. I reach up and run my fingers through my hair thinking about this shitty haircut Carl gave me. Hmmmm, I could show everybody I'm my own person by getting a Mohawk. That would show them I got guts, that I'm an individual, that I can be different and that I don't need them. Hell, it's almost six weeks before college begins and the shaved part will have grown in enough by then to have a regular buzz cut. Can I believe this? I'm actually considering doing it? Hmmm, except there's the spanking part. That was the worst spanking I've ever gotten. Mohawk man was furious with me because he initially thought I was one of the gay teen boys mocking him on the internet. Those boys would get Mohawk man to fuck them, then compare notes on line and make fun of Rene in the process. He knows I'm not one of them now, of course, but he also told me that's how he gets aroused... spanking gay boys till they cry. No, I don't want to do that again. I guess it won't work out for me, but it was exciting thinking about it for a while. Still, I got this boner... hmmm. Maybe I will do it.

After a nice walk congratulating myself on being daring with Gary in the lavatory and by meeting the Mohawk man again I spot mom and Tris about a hundred yards up the beach, they're still under the umbrella and it looks like they're eating pizza. Hope they saved me some. Jogging over I find that they did; my mom says, "Where ya been, honey? Chubby was here with his girl friend and another girl. They're looking for you." I grab a slice of lukewarm pizza and say, "Is that so? What's the other girl look like? They're probably trying to fix me up with her, ya know?" Mom's wiping her mouth, saying, "She's very nice, you might like her. And, don't be shy with her. Let her see your wonderful personality." Frowning at those motherly comments, I eat the last three slices of pizza wondering what Chubby's trying to pull off here. After that I walked way up the beach in the other direction, smoking cigarettes and thinking about Gary while checking out the boys on this stretch of beach. Some cute ones, but not many. As for Gary, that was excellent buddy sex we had today; no ties and no romance but we hit it off, we like each other. It's not like I was just some cheap slut or anything, and now I know I can make new gay friends too. Gary's nice and while I didn't actually ask for sex with him, he didn't force it on me either and the bottom line is I'm glad we did it. Maybe I'll look him up tomorrow instead of any more contemplating about the Mohawk man's proposal. Chuckling to myself, I'm thinking more and more that that's not a bad idea, having a slutty week for myself, I mean. This entire summer has been a bust so far! Maybe I can turn that around all by myself... sex every day should be my goal!

Lighting another cigarette, I'm ogling a redheaded boy who is probably older than I'm normally attracted to, but there's something about him. Maybe it's that he's sprung a boner in his bathing suit. He's sitting in a beach chair casually adjusting his lap and, yep, it's a boner alright, a long one too. He's got it adjusted sideways like I try to do with mine sometimes. Wonder what he was thinking about when it popped up on him? Then I thought of Willie and his long boner and I yearned for him a little bit too. Everything was easy for me with Willie; he made it all happen. I took it for granted the way he just about worshiped me. Sure, he insisted everything be his way where sex was concerned, but he did it in a sweet dominant way, then he spoiled me in all other matters by letting me have my own way with just about everything else. He spoiled me with sex too, we went at it hot and heavy, and often! Anything I wanted was fine with Willie and he was generous too. He's just about the only person who ever bought me nice gifts. And, could he ever fuck me good! And also, what a make-out artist he was, he made me cum in my pants from just making-out any number of times. Damn, he taught me a lot and I miss him. Okay, it's settled! Yes, I'm going to be a cum whore this week, a fuck slut and hopefully I'll even get a chance to do some screwing myself. To start with, right now I'm going to walk back the way I came and be less selective this time and more assertive. I'll see if I can spot a potential fuck buddy, maybe that redheaded kid. Gary was the driving force for our sexual encounter earlier today, and I'll be the driving force this afternoon. Halfway back I realize I can't pull this off; I can't even spot a teen who I think might be gay. Damn, guess I need to depend on happenstance for my sexual adventures. It's disappointing I can't be more assertive, but I'll keep working on it. I want to initiate something sometime in my life besides that recent incident with Carl!

I reconnected with the moms for some chit chat and then I body surfed on some pretty good waves. After that I did some sunbathing getting nice color while sort of reliving the bizarre, yet sexy, experience with the very unusual Gary. My ass felt great, no horniness either and that's a relaxing feeling. I went back to the condo with the moms around five and sat on the back deck drinking lemonade and daydreaming about Robby. I didn't even realize I was doing it at first and then sort of shook my head thinking, "Don't do this to yourself!" I purposely didn't charge my cell phone because I didn't want to know if he called. That was yesterday though, now I'd kinda like to know, but unfortunately I accidentally left the charger at home so I'm without a cell phone for the next two weeks. What an idiotic move that was; my mind hasn't been working right because I'm uber upset over that garage scene. There's no way Robby will know Chubby's cell number so we're incommunicado. Oh, the hell with it; let Robby sweat it out. Of course he doesn't know I know about the three of them, so from his point of view, me not responding to his calls or text messages will just seem incredibly rude. Good, see how he likes it! Then out on the deck burst Chubby with Mary Jo, followed by a slightly stocky girl with a big voice and a lot of energy. I think to myself, "Oh shit! Just what I don't need!" Chubby says, "There you are, bro. We've been looking for you all day." I go, "Ya don't say. I was on the beach walking. You know Chubby, like we used to do every day." He ignores that and says, "You already know Mary Jo," Mary Jo interrupts, "You're really looking good, Dylan. Ya got a lot of sun today!" She was chipper and friendlier to me then ever before. I go, "Thanks, yeah the sun was bright." Chubby then nods to the stocky girl and says, "This is Mary Jo's good friend, Marsha Duvale. Marsha, my best bud, Dylan Newman," he gestures with his hand in my direction as he talks. A big introduction, especially considering my bored response, "Yo, wassup?" Marsha goes, "Not much except Chubby's told me a lot about you. Hey, do ya wanna get married? Ha ha!" I guess that means Chubby's said good things about me. I roll my eyes and say, "Oh that's right, Chubby's mentioned how funny you are." And then awkward silence for a few seconds until Chubby comes up with this: "Can anyone help me out with this. What's up with the difference between these seemingly identical statements? 'He's stubborn about something' or 'He's pig-headed about something?"' I'm looking at him like he's a jackass, but Marsha just shrugs and says, "I don't know what you mean?" Mary Jo, however, brightens up and says, "Yeah, they're the same. It's like this, is Dylan acting nonchalant orblase? Marsha and I are both frowning, I go, "Oh, brother!" Chubby asks, "What's the difference between gray with an 'a' and grey with an 'e'?" I say, "Here's another way to look at it... Who gives a shit?" and Marsha laughs. I look up at her and she smiles. Nice teeth, and at least she doesn't have a ton of make up on.

We're interrupted by Tris who comes out on the deck carrying a gin and tonic, "Is it okay if an old lady joins you children?" Chubby groans, "Mommmm!" Tris rubs his hair and says, "Chill, Chub! You guys want a beer? We bought some Beck's Light for you kids in case ya wanna be bad, only sixty calories which means low alcohol content. Help yourselves." We all did too, and then came right back out on the deck. Mom was out there now as well. Tris, Chubby and me are smoking cigarettes while we drink our beer. Mary Jo subtly bitches about second hand smoke as we act oblivious. After the beer I went in for a shower and when I came back, I discovered it's been decided we'd all eat dinner together here. After I got another beer for myself we did the Idiot Sighting game. Marsha went first and told about the girl in front of her at a Taco Bell who ordered "minimal lettuce" on her taco and the boy behind the counter said, "I'm sorry, we only have iceburg lettuce." Tris told about an incident at the airport while checking in. A security guard asked if anyone had put something in her luggage without her knowledge. She said to him, "If it was without my knowledge, how would I know?" The guy smiled and said, "That's why we ask!" Huh?? Marsha had another one. Her aunt lives in rural Maine, the aunt's next door neighbor told her she'd called authorities in town to have a DEER CROSSING sign removed because "too many deer were being hit by cars," as if the sign was for the deer. There were some other true incidents recited; instead of laughing, mostly we groaned at the idiocy of the people involved. My idiot sighting was even lamer then the earlier ones and Chubby told of an idiot sighting using a word we didn't recognize. Mary Jo fell into his trap and asked for the meaning which had Chubby beaming. We all had another beer while the moms fixed a chicken dinner. Later I went to the boardwalk with Chubby and the girls. It was okay, but sharing a thrill ride with Marsha isn't nearly as much fun as sharing one with Chubby. Marsha was real clingy and screamed enough to crack a person's eardrum, but she did laugh at all my sarcastic remarks so that was okay. I rode with them to Wildwood Crest around midnght and talked with Marsha on her back porch while Chubby and Mary Jo did whatever in the back seat of our car. When I finally got in to drive Chubby and me back to Wildwood the smell in the car reminded me a little bit of the beach lavatory Gary and I spent some time in this afternoon. In bed when I hugged Chubby, he hugged me back. I let my boner rest on his thigh but he only mumbled, "You're incorrigible Dylan, but I love ya anyway!" and I kissed his cheek without a word of protest from him. He was paying me back for being a good sport with Marsha. It seems the girls don't know I'm gay.

Next morning Chubby again tried to talk me into going with him to Wildwood Crest. I had sex on my mind though and told him "no thanks" but that I'd hook up with them again tonight. After he drove off I got this weird feeling in my stomach, it's a slightly worried feeling from knowing that I might be up for some crazy sexual adventure like yesterday. In my current aroused sexual frame of mind I wasn't sure what I'd be willing to do. Even though Gary fucked me good yesterday, I'm still raring for more action. It's the lack of adequate sex all summer or maybe it's just my time of the month... do guys have times of the months like girls? I don't think so, but I'm hot to trot again; not that that's so unusual I suppose. Over coffees and sweet rolls on the deck with mom and Tris I asked how they thought I'd look with a Mohawk haircut. Tris is more on the wild side than my mom and she jumped on it, saying, "Oh, it'd be so cool! I tried to get you to cut Chubby's hair into a Mohawk a few years ago, remember, Dylan? Chubby wouldn't go for it though." My mom says, "Jake tells me every boy should have a Mohawk haircut at least once in his life and I guess times running out on your boyhood. Anyway, dear, you'd look good with any hair style." Well, those comments I'll take as endorsements for the Mohawk part anyway. Now my belly really was feeling odd, I had that almost scared buzzing feeling in my balls knowing there's a good chance I'm going to do something nuts, but sexy. Oh God! Do I have the balls for this? A Mohawk haircut plus the spanking in order to get fucked hard by the Mohawk man. God, I'm chuckling to myself at how nuts this is, but I'm still considering it. I was antsy all morning and finally left the moms on the beach around eleven to walk all the way up to where I met Gary yesterday. Hung around there smoking for a long time but he never showed. Today I'd brought sandals and a red tank top with me so I took a deep breath, then pulled the shirt over my head and went up the steps to the boardwalk, put my sandals on and took a little walk. My heart was pounding as I checked my watch; it's almost noon. I'm crazy to even be considering this thing with the Mohawk man, but I'll be damned if I'm not gonna try making a statement to everyone; myself included, even though I know this is crazy! Then I thought how I don't need Dodger and Robby playing me for a fool 'cause I can act like a fool all by myself. That made me smile, but I'm really nervous just the same.

I hesitated, then walked by the Mohawk Piercing shop and looked in through the plate glass front window. It was business as usual. I looked at the back and saw some boys sitting on the bench outside the piercing/tattooing room and that made me smile; wait until those kids get a load of Rene! Ha! It's too early to go in and I wasn't even sure I was going to go in anyway. I walked down to Mac's pizza shop feeling weird. After eating two slices of pizza and drinking a medium size birch beer, which is red in case ya don't know, I was ready for a smoke. Then, according to my wristwatch it was ten of one; so, it's decision time. Now, do I have the balls for this, or not? On the beach side of the boardwalk I'm walking slowly back towards the Mohawk Piercing shop changing my mind about going through with this time after time. Almost at the shop I spot another one of the Mohawk man's boys. He told me there are five regulars that he services, at least that's what he said last year. This boy on the beach might be older than Gary and me. His Mohawk is purple and about seven inches high so I'm guessing he has to be one of Rene's boys. I can't make out this kid's facial features exactly, he just seems older. Seeing him is a reminder to me that other kids are doing this with Mohawk man, they're individuals satisfying some urge inside them. They don't care what others think, they care what they think so why can't I be like that? Before I can change my mind I jog the last block to the shop and go around back. My heart is beating fast as I stand there; to knock or not to knock? And then I don't need to decide, as Rene must have been looking out the window for me; he opened the door almost as soon as I walked up to it. He took hold of my arm pulling me in, saying, "Come in out of the heat, darling. It's nice and cool in here." I came along, the decision having been made for me.

Inside Rene closes the door and flicks the lock. He looks the same as he did yesterday right down to the vest and what appears to be pajama bottoms. His feet are still bare, the black nail polish not quite as shiny as yesterday. He takes a big bite out of a meatball sub that's sitting in waxed paper on the windowsill, and talking with his mouth full, says, "I've locked both doors and the curtains are closed so we have absolute privacy for the next hour and a half, sweetie." Swallowing then and taking another bite he says through the food pieces flying out of his mouth, "I have a little speech I give to my boys when they start with me. It's important we're on the same page and that you understand I do things my way, no picking and choosing; once you commit it's all the way. It's your choice of course, I won't force you to commit." I'm standing there listening, still not sure I want to do this. He takes another bite and continues his speech, "Last year was different. I thought you were one of the mockers so I was a hard ass with you. I can be a tough homo but I prefer being nice." I'm thinking, "I prefer you being nice too!" my heart's pounding, but I like what he said about it being my choice and him being nice. He's not really dangerous I guess, he just looks dangerous. It's kinda scary getting a Mohawk haircut though, it's such a major change in appearance and it's an attention getter too, which I'm not into. This isn't something to be taken lightly. When he said "the whole works" I assume he's referring to a second earring, it's a little unusual for a boy to have both ears pierced maybe, but it isn't a really big deal. I remember meeting two boys who were uber cute on the boardwalk last year both with small hoop earrings similar to mine in each ear lobe, so I'm good with that. Then, of course, there's the spanking part which is the worst by far. Him fucking me is both good and bad, but mostly good. In the end though, I'm drawn to the sex he laid on me last summer like a moth is drawn to a flame. All this craziness with the Mohawk man is like forbidden fruit or something and in my current frame of mind I'm forcing myself to go for it. I can't always just sit around and wait for it to come to me, can I?

The Mohawk man continues his lecture. "I know I have a lisp and I know I'm queer acting; it's because I'm homosexual and I am how I am. I had nothing to do with that, but I'm a homo man, not a fairy like you and my other boys. And, sweetheart, I'm not being critical 'cause you don't have nothing to do with that either. You're attracted to me because I'm a man and you're a fey boy, but that's okay because we're helping each other." He finishes his sub, wads the waxed paper up in a ball and drops it in the wastebasket. I say, "Excuse me, but I'm no fairy. I'm a gay boy and proud of it!" He lisps, "Are you now? Are you even out?" Looking down I mumble, "Not really, but..." He says, "It'sokay, never mind that. Do you want to do the works?" I nod my head mumbling, "Yeah, I guess, but I resent being called a fairy!" He says, "Okay, you're not a fairy. Lift your arms over your head." I do and he pulls my shirt up off my body till it's covering my head and says, "Hold it there; as you know, this is the first adjustment necessary to becoming one of my boys," and I feel scraping of what's got to be a safety razor at my armpits. "You have only a little blond underarm hairs, but we need to get them just the same. You're responsible to keep your underarms shaved from now on." I think to myself, sarcastically, "Oh, for sure!" A few swipes with the razor and he pulls the shirt off my head completely and folds it neatly, saying, "Drop you swimsuit now and hand it to me." Then something registers, he'd said, 'As you know,' but how would I know about him shaving under my arms? Dropping my boardies it hits me; I remember yesterday he told me I need to take a brochure regarding all this 'cause it explains everything. Uh oh, I'm having second thoughts now. What's in the brochure?

My first thought is, "I better stop now," but that's the old me, not the new more adventurous me so I replace that thought with, "Give it a chance." Mohawk man is now facing my side, he has one big hand on my package and the other fondling my ass, quietly saying, "You've already shaved your pubes... in the future I do that. You should have followed the instructions!" He stops fondling my ass and says, "When my boys don't follow my instructions, this happens," and he swats my ass a good one making me yelp, "OWW!" He says, "Ya didn't shave your legs too, did ya?" I reach back to rub my butt, whining, "That hurt. Ah, no I didn't shave my legs, not recently, anyway." He pushes my hand away and rubs my stinging butt himself, mumbling, "Okay then, let's get you boned up so I can get the cock ring on properly." That made me want to say something, but I don't know what might be the right thing to say now because he'll probably do more than smack on my ass if I admit I never bothered reading the brochure. He says, "Don't sulk or you'll get another smack. By the way, you have a very nice penis and testicle combo here, especially for a slim-bodied boy like yourself. Your buns are perfection." His large hands were feeling good, they're strong but he's being gentle so they almost feel soft and my dick is starting to respond. He begins pulling a finger up my ass crack and pushing on my anus with the pad of his finger as it passes by. I do an involuntary sigh, "Ohh, ahh," and squirm against him. My right arm is flat against my side and is pressed against Mohawk man's chest, his chin bumping the top of my head when I squirm against him. The fondling of my ass and cock has me boned up by now so he begins to push and pull the foreskin on and off the head of my cock using just his thumb and index finger, putting pressure on the shaft of my cock as he slides my foreskin to and fro. I lean my head over rubbing the side of it on his chest and breathe deeply, then a breathy,"Ooooh yeah" as my dick reaches hard boner status. A finger slides down my ass crack and presses on my anus and holds there; I switch my attention from my cock to my ass. As expected, he pushes his finger inside my hole and I'm like, "Eeeee," puffing out burst of air going up on my toes, fully leaning against him now. He murmurs, "You're doing real good, honey. Just rest against Rene, he'll take care of you."

My lips formed an "Oh" as I'm puffing faster and the climax sensations grow. I feel my dick getting ready to drip and then, "Okay, baby! There's the first beautiful drop of precum." It was on his finger tip which he lifts to his mouth and licked. "Reaching behind him he picked up something, "This is a soft rubber cock ring, it works very well. It'll maintain your erection by keeping most of the blood from leaving the penile tissue." He worked the ring onto my boner, it was real tight at the base. Now that he's stopped stroking my pecker I can think a little better and I'm not so sure of this anymore. I say, "Rene? Maybe I better not do this. I'm sorry to cause you all this trouble, but I'm chickening out." He's fastening something around my balls, ignoring my plea. Then, he says, "Let me finish getting this testicle cuff in place. It'll keep your testicles from retracting to your body and that slows down climaxing so you can enjoy the climax feeling longer. There, it fits good! How's that feel, sweetheart?" Tight bands, one down low on my scrotum forcing my balls down and the other at the base of my boner, real tight. Brand new sensations, not bad at all, my balls are just this side of aching which is strangely sexual. Mostly, though, I can't fucking concentrate on anything but my dick. Mohawk man strokes the foreskin a few more times and now with the cock ring everything seems more sensitive. A moan of pleasure slips out, "Ahhhh, ooh," followed by a couple of deep breaths as he does three full strokes on my rock hard cock which is sticking straight out from my bare belly. He asks, "What was that you were saying, dear?" I'm biting my bottom lip trying to refrain from moaning at the incredible hot pleasurable feelings I'm getting. He adds, "You'll be able to enjoy this feeling right through your haircut and all the rest." Not being able to help myself, I let out another moaning sigh, "Ahhhhh, ohhh, man, that does feel good." Rene whispers, "Do you want to finish? I know it's often difficult trying something new, but why not go for it, baby? I won't do it though unless you want it." Whoa, it's a trip okay. I'm feeling better now, especially knowing he would have stopped if I said to. I mumble, "Oh, no... please go on, Mohawk... or, I mean, Rene." He says, "Just a second baby, I've got another treat for you," and he puts his finger in a Vaseline jar and then sticks it up my ass; gets even more Vaseline then to also push up my hole. I turn to him and lean against him now, my hands on his shoulders, my forehead against his bare chest. The rings are changing sensations all around my groin, it's like nothing I've experienced before. He's put a lot more vaseline up my hole and begins finger fucking my slippery hole with deep penetrations, paying special attention to my prostate. Shortly my arms go around him, my body plastered to his with his free arm around my back; my hips begin humping of their own volition. Humping my boner into his powerful thigh signing and moaning as his fat finger probes my rectum and pushes on my prostate. My hips are firing my boner into the Mohawk man's thigh and it's like humping into the side of a firm mattress. He whispers, "That's Rene's good boy..." as he hugs me tighter. I go, "Ohhhh gawd! That feels good. Ohh, Rene, I'm gonna cum!" He rubs up the back of my head and murmurs, "No you're not, sweetheart. Lean into Rene, boy. Hump my leg, boy!"

He finger fucks me for less than a minute, precum struggling to drip off the end of my cock. It was like one sexy sensation on top of another, and then another and I felt weak from needing to climax. His monster cock was firmed up, it was sideway in his pajama bottoms pressed against my stomach. Making a wheezing noise through his teeth he pulled his finger out of my ass, then pushed me back off him a little, saying, "Hop up in the barber chair now, sweetheart." I reached down to stroke myself and "Smack!" on my ass. It almost picked me off the floor. "Didn't you read the do's and don'ts section of the brochure? No touching!" Whoa, my ass is stinging! I'm rubbing it with both hands, that hurt! "We'll do your legs first. Here, let me wipe the Vaseline off your buttocks so you don't get it on the leather seat of my barber's chair." Stinging continues from that smack on my ass and it's temporarily overwhelmed the sexy sensations created by the cock ring and scrotum cuff. When the stinging lessens and the sexy feelings return I don't know what feels sexier, my ass or my cock. I'm breathing deep breaths and seeing dots in my vision from all the sensations starting with my smacked, stinging ass all the way to being right on the edge of climax with my balls buzzing and my dick dripping. "Bend over, sweetie, so I can clean your pussy for ya." Bending over I'm touching my toes trying to squeeze my boner between my thigh and belly, oh man, it feels good! He wipes my ass roughly, squeezing each butt cheek with the rag and pushing the rag into my anus slightly with the tip of his finger and that adds to the general erotic feelings I'm getting from my cock and balls; they're in a constant state of excitement, alive with tingles and shivers. "Okay, baby, you're all set," and then another hard smack on my ass and another, "Yeow!!" from me. "React faster when Rene says something, sweetie. You'll learn." I'm hustling over to the barber chair with my ass stinging again and my boner and nuts bobbing oddly in front of me, my whole package is stimulated as if I'm constantly playing with myself. A frustrating feeling in one sense, but sexy too. Up in the barber chair I sit my bare ass on the leather seat and squirmed around on it dragging my hard scrotum against it, the leather felt so good! I rub my back against the leather and do a quiet, "Mmmmm," this was something alright. Thoughts of not continuing were completely gone from my head... oh God! I want to stroke my cock so bad! Rene let me squirm against the leather as he used a sponge to wet my leg and then lather shaving cream on them and shave them of their fine little blond hairs that you can hardly see. When shaved and rinsed-off, I thought of all the times Chubby and I did this and how good shaved legs feel. My cock quivered and the pee slit's lips opened and closed needing cum to keep them happy.

Rene draped a barber's cape over me and it felt so good when it fluffed down on the head of my boner, cool light weight cotton material and the traditional white with black stripes. It felt awesome on my newly shaved legs too, I let out another sigh, "Mmmmm," and Rene whispered, "Feeling good, baby?" He knew I was experiencing erotic sensations, but I gushed out anyway, "Awesome, Rene!" He leaned down and kissed my cheek, scraping metal piercing against the side of my nose. "You don't follow directions very well, but you're still delicious, just like I told you yesterday. And, didn't I tell you you'd love this, didn't Rene tell you that, sweetheart?" I nodded my head, concentrating on the feelings in my groin. "Sit up straight now!" I got myself stiffly straight in the chair, barber clippers snapped on and he positioned the buzzing clippers at the nape of my head and slowly ran them up the back and across the top plowing a bundle of two-tone blond hair in front of it as it went. Finally, at my forehead, it broke through my hairline and the big pile of hairs tumbled down spreading out on the cape. Holy shit! I looked up at the mirror and saw a two inch wide strip of sandpaper stubble across one side of my head. My eyes got big as Rene went on the second run, this one on the other side of my head. The clippers came steadily up the back, again pushing another pile of clipped hairs in front of it, and then the blades were moving across the top of my head and finally came out at the front of my hairline again and that pile of blond hair fell onto the cape. I gasped.

It's a shocking sight at first. Bald strips on either side of a narrow strip of longer hair which would represent my Mohawk and be the only hairs left on my head when the Mohawk man is done with me. He was running the clippers straight up the sides now, from my sideburn up and over to meet the bald strip on top with clipped hairs falling by the hundreds onto my shoulder, some falling off the back of the cape and others to the front of the cape adding to the pile in my lap. He worked confidently and quickly, but not like he was in a hurry. Within two minutes the entire side of my head was bald and there was a bald strip on the other side of my Mohawk hair. Rene ran the clippers up the other side while casually asking, "Oh, honey, have you decided what your tat's gonna be. I go, "Huh? Tattoo? Whaddya mean?" Another clipper run up the side and all I can see now is my bald head and the Mohawk strip of hair. He's working the clippers through the hair further back on the sides and at the back of my head. He says, "You better have read that goddamn brochure, dear, or your ass is gonna be on fire!" I'm staring at my bald head mumbling, "Oh no, I read it." He says, "Hey, you're a lucky kid; you know, being so attractive and sexy so how 'bout a four leaf clover with just your first name next to it... like, 'Lucky` Dylan!'Just small, say two inches across on your upper arm. It won't even show unless you wear a tank top like the one you wore today." Staring at my reflection in the mirror I'm in shock, but a tattoo does sound cool and being so overwhelmed by everything I mumble, "Sure," and go back to gawking at the new me in the mirror.

The clippers completed their work in less than four minutes. Rene cranked the chair back so my head was over a sink and washed my scalp and the one inch strip of hair. Cranking the chair up he put shaving cream on my scalp, then took the cape off to shake all my hair into a big trash bin. The cape went back on and Rene asks, "Any special color?" I'm thinking he means my Mohawk, so I meekly ask, "Can it be natural color?" He says, "Wha...? Oh, you mean your hair. No, I'm bleaching the tips till they're almost white. I'm referring to your tattoo. Of course the four leaf clover will be a shade of green, but how bout the DYLAN part?" I'm feeling wiped out. I can't get my bald head out of my head, it's so freaking different, so odd! I mumble, "Oh, I don't care, any color." He tells me he's using a safety razor especially developed for balding. I hear the crisp sound of the razor taking the sandpaper stubble down to the smooth scalp. I feel dizzy, my boner needs stroking so, forgetting the no touching rule, I reach under the cape, Rene snaps, "Don't touch yourself!" then calmer, "That's part of the deal, remember? No touching." It sure would have helped if I'd read that fucking brochure. I'm squirming on the seat trying to drag my stiff balls on the leather again 'cause I need something to help me cum, my cock's dripping and the urge to cum is strong. A big hand comes around and grabs my jaw, "Stay still! You'll stay perfectly still or we'll do two full spankings, one now and then again before I fuck you!" He squeezes my jaw and I get scared again so stop squirming, but say nothing. He waits a second, then quietly says, "Good boy, you're learning."

My boner and groin never stop tingling, the feeling of climax is right there yet so far away. Maybe I'm not thinking straight but it seems to me the more I cooperate the quicker we get to the fucking part of today's activities and do I ever need to climax! I'm going to do whatever the Mohawk man tells me to do and then I'm gonna have the biggest climax in history. Ohh, I need to cum badly! "Move your head down for me, sweetheart. I'll get the back." I docilely comply, my chin down to my chest as he scrapes the razor against my scalp at the back of my head. Finally I find myself in that kind of trance-like state of mind I get into when I'm totally dominated. Rene had been too nice about it until that jaw pull and the threat of a full spanking, but now I know my place; he's totally in charge, the earlier smacks on my ass are fresh in my mind and I don't want any more of them. I could have pulled out earlier but we're too far along now so there's no turning back. In my current frame of mind I don't even want to pull out... I like the sense of being dominated and mostly I want my fucking! This docile mood has my balls trying to climb up to shoot some cum, but the testicle cuff prevents that... ohh, the feeling is both frustrating and sensual.

Finished with the shaving the chair is cranked down again for another quick washing of my scalp, then up so he can blow dry the strip of hair, combing the hairs up causes it to dry sticking up about two inches off my head. He uses clippers over the comb to reduce it to three-quarters of an inch and I'm shocked. I thought my Mohawk would be long like the others I've seen. He must have noticed my surprised expression in the mirror, he says, "Did you forget that new boys get a boy's Mohawk first? It one of the first things explained in the brochure. Of course, the works for the general public doesn't include a lot of the stuff you'll have, like spanking or fucking. Ha ha ha. That's for my boys alone and it's why I told you to take the brochure from that pile near the door." He's muttering on about other differences between the regular public's works and his boys'. I'm gawking at my weird looking Mohawk, half listening to him. He continued with, "Mostly the regular customers just get the tattoo, the Mohawk and piercing. That's the ninety-nine dollar special." I'm not sure what to say, I just want this to speed along. Maybe he misinterprets my silence as he adds, "Eventually I'll let the center hairs grow in. Someday you can have a long Mohawk like Gary , if you're good." Now I'm thinking, "Good? What's that mean? And anyway, I'm going home in ten days. He's got the impression I live around here now. I guess me coming in with Gary gave him that impression." I said nothing to Rene about his misconception 'cause I don't want to make waves, just get through this part. I look like shit though, having a real Mohawk is a dopey look. The more exotic look of the long ones is okay; they're not great, but okay... this stubby Mohawk that I've got sucks! Absolutely nothing to be done about it now except endure it. I've fucked myself up good this time. Rene put tape, like painter's tape, down both sides of the thin, short strip of hair. "This tape will prevent the defoliating cream from destroying the Mohawk hairs." I'm resigned to any and all indignation by now, so I say nothing. What was I thinking going along with this? He rubs in the cream, dissolving hairs a skin layer or two deep in the scalp. He says, "This will make it a shiny baldness without a hairline of any kind for a week or so. It's an awesome look." It begins to sting and soon I was desperate for him to wash it off, but didn't complain because he wouldn't like that. Mohawk man drank a can of energy drink while waiting for the cream to do its job. Finally, with me ready to scream from the itchy feeling on my scalp, he shampooed my head one last time and when he buffed my bald head dry it was a shiny bald pate indeed. The middle strip didn't even need gel, it was so short it couldn't lay over. "Wonderful!" declared Rene.

I wasn't done yet though. He peroxided the tips carefully and it almost made the hair look a little longer having different shades from bottom to top. Off came the barber's cape, but the Mohawk man says, "Just stay seated." I couldn't help but notice he had gained a lot of bossiness in the last twenty minutes. He's got me were he wants me now, he can read us fairies like a book. "Scoot over to the edge of the seat. I need a taste of you," I scoot over and he takes my dripping cock into his mouth. I don't know what was happening in there, but it felt like I climaxed three times before he pushed my boner out with his huge pierced tongue. I was hopping up off the seat groveling, "Ahh, oh what? I'm cumming! Oh nooo..." What sensations! There was cum dripping from the pee slit when he was done, but not much. My balls ached openly now because I hadn't actually climaxed. I grunted, "Can you fuck me now, please." He gave me a hard look, rubbed the back of his fingers across my stubby Mohawk saying, in an exasperated manner, "You're one of my boys now, baby. My boys don't ask me to fuck them, they wait until I say it's time." He gets my chin between his thumb and index finger, squeezing it, asking, "You understand me, baby?" I nod as best I can and mumble, "Yes, Sir." He quietly says, "You read that in the brochure, right?" I looked down and mumbled, "Oh yeah, I forgot." He jerked my chin and says, "You my fairy boy now?" I go, "Yeah." He did the good smile then, the one that showed how handsome he could be if he hadn't freaked himself up, and says, "Okay, you're doing okay."

He walked behind me then and by now I had that real dominated feeling going for me and it buzzed in my aching balls and made me feel like Rene's little boy. It was like Willie could do to me sometimes when he'd had some especially dominating sex with me. I had to do things Willie's way and the more he insisted on that, the hotter I got. Mohawk man sure knew how to get me begging for more. My dick dripped some on its own and I moaned with the pleasurable sensations that were left over from Mohawk man's sucking it. Then, a wet feel on my right ear lobe followed by a sharp pain, I yell, "OWW!" as the piercing needle goes through my ear lobe and a duplicate of the small hoop earring in my left ear goes in my pierced right ear. "Squeeze this gauze till the bleeding clots," ordered the Mohawk man, then, "That wasn't so bad, was it?" I look at him with a tear in my eye and shake my head that it wasn't so bad. He pats my cheek and gives me another nice smile, then says, "I'm gonna do your tat now. Sit up straight and no talking. I need to concentrate on this." I say a meek, "Okay."

Again, I sit as straight up as I can get, my back flat against the barber chair's back. "Good boy, keep your eyes forward. This will sting a little when I get going with the tat high on your left bicep, but first I'll draw the design." He cleaned the area with some special cleaner, muttering, "Good, no hair; not even peach fuzz." Then it didn't take long to draw a four leaf cover and the words LUCKY DYLAN. He wrote it in fancy script, then outlined it using an electric tattooing machine. It looked a little like a fat magic marker with tiny needles at the end. As he did the body artwork he explained that the needles push in only to the second layer of skin, the dermis, to inject the ink. Pale green for the half-inch four leaf clover and blue-grey for my name. The needles penetrate the skin 100 to 3000 times a minute depending on the operator's choice. It felt like hot scratches on my arm, an uncomfortable but bearable feeling. He held my upper arm in his vise-like grip while doing the tattoo. When Rene was done he put a bandage over it and told me I needed to return here about two hours from now. The bandage comes off at that time and I'm to keep the tattoo damp with a solution he'll give me along with a list of do's and don't. Rene was very pleased with his work on my Mohawk, my earring, and my tattoo. He said, "You look marvelous! My boys kiss my cheek in appreciation; men don't kiss on the lips." He held the side of his face to me and I leaned over to kiss some metal piercings and maybe a little bit of his cheek too. He said, "That's my boy." He's gotten a little stern at times today, but he also took care with everything he did; he took pride in his work and in me too, so it seems that being one of his boys isn't so bad.

While Rene's putting the tattooing equipment away I'm getting that nervous feeling expecting that the full spanking is next. My boner has lost some of its stiffness and blood has managed to get past the cock ring, but it still feels good. His back is to me so I take a chance and stroke myself three times and moan out, "Ahhh shit, ohhh!" Rene snaps, "No! No touching!" I let go of my dick but it's so sensitive I'm biting my lip in ecstasy. My cock has never felt this ready to explode. "Bad boy!" Rene says as he pulls a small table over and picks up my hand. "We'll do a cursory manicure and then a quick pedicure because I'm running out of time. I have piercing and tattooing appointments starting at two-thirty." He's filing my nails and pushing the cuticle back and I don't know what all. Each finger and thumb gets worked on and when he's done, my nails look perfect. Then he opens a bottle of something that smells like my mother's nail polish, holds my hand and paints my nails pink, bright pink. I try pulling my hand away and he snaps, "Hold still!" Fuck! Oh, okay... I'll just buy nail polish remover as soon as I leave here. There's a drug store on the corner. I stop struggling and he mumbles, "You've learned, ain't ya, honey." Finished one hand, he says, "Other hand," and I meekly reach it over to him. He takes my hand, and asks, "Are you ready for me to call you 'good girl'? Huh? Can Rene call you 'my good girl' now?" I frown like, what the fuck? He shakes his head, "No, you're Rene's good boy for a while longer. Rene is just kidding about the girl part, you're not a girl yet, but we might think about it 'cause you're sure pretty enough." I can't believe he's saying this and the expression on my face must be reflecting that because Mohawk man snaps, "Don't give me that expression again or you'll get slapped." I tried to look neutral and he pats my hand, saying, "Oh, don't get so uptight, that's all I'm saying. Enjoy being one of Rene's boys. This is fun, isn't it?" I chew on my bottom lip and nod my head, "Isn't it?" he asks sternly. I nod my head vigorously and say, "Yes, it's fun." He finishes my other hand and then does my toes. I can't fucking believe I have pink toenails and fingernails. Unbelievable, but by now I'm more or less back to drifting in a dominated trance-like mood... might as well relax as much as I can 'cause I'm powerless anyway. It feels very relaxing actually, and now the nail polish doesn't bother me as much. It's nice that I don't need to make any decisions or worry about anything, as long as I just do what I'm told everything will be fine.

"Wave your hands and feet, sweetheart. Dry your nail polish!" I wave them half heartedly and almost laugh out loud 'cause I feel so stupid. The tattoo is wicked cool though. My Mohawk haircut, not so much, but I'm still glad I did it. It'll show a side of me no one knows I have. I got balls! I'm not afraid to get wild. The Mohawk man, I think of him as Mohawk man most of the time, has got me under his spell. Willie could do that too and Robby a little bit as well... like I said, it's a buzzing feeling in my balls that's real sexy. Of course, I'm well aware of the fact that guys who don't lean toward the submissive side can't relate to us submissive types, and to that I say, ya don't know what you're missing! The Mohawk man snaps me out of my reverie: "Okay now, get over here to the workbench for your spanking." Getting used to doing what I'm told, I walk right over. My earlobe and arm are hurting a little, my cock's still alive with sensations and I've got a real nervous stomach; other that that, I'm good. Mohawk man's sitting on the stool, he says, "I like that you're reacting much quicker to my orders, now turn around so your back is to me." I'm taking deep breaths, scared of what's coming, but I do what he says as fast as I can and he gets his huge hands on my hips, picks me up and sits me on his lap. His arms go around me pulling me back against him, my back resting against his chest. Getting his pierced lips down to my ear he says, "Do you like what Rene's done for you so far?" I nod my head, but he says, "Don't nod, say it!" I say, "I like the tattoo and all the stuff that you've done for me." He asks, "Will you do me a favor then?" I nod and he pinches my thigh hard, "Oww!" I yell, then contritely, "I'm sorry for nodding. Yes, I'll do you a favor." He explains that he gets aroused by spanking boys and making them cry, but he needs me to tell him it's okay to do it or he can't enjoy it to the fullest. I need to ask him to do it and after my spanking I'll get rewarded: Mohawk man will fuck me in his special way. I swallow hard trying to speak, then gulp and say, using his name for the first time, "Please spank me, Rene." He's breathing roughly now, nothing he's done to me since the finger fucking has aroused him this much; the very word spanking has him excited and I feel his large penis move under my buttocks. Taking deep breaths he reaches around and plays with my boner, pulling and pushing the foreskin, with me pressing back against him moaning. He murmurs breathlessly, "You didn't ask me to spank you hard to make you cry." I want to cum so bad by now I'll do anything he wants so I manage to whisper, "Please spank me so hard I cry." He gasps, his cock quite firm under my buttocks. Standing up then, holding me under my arms so my feet are off the floor, he sits down quickly, flipping me over his legs. My belly lies across his lap with my boner between his muscular thighs.

My plan is to fake a crying jag before I get to a point of crying out in real pain. The first smack on my bare ass causes me to go, "Yeow!!" and the second had me screaming "OWW!!" and squirming to get off his lap. He reaches something off the workbench; then, without speaking, he rustles me around till I'm sitting on his lap again. Could the spanking be over? "Open your mouth!" As I'm opening my mouth, he says, "Wider!" and I think of Gary saying the same thing before pushing his balls inside my mouth. Mohawk man pushes a ball gag in and fastens a strap behind my head. It's gagging me alright, I'm concentrating on breathing through my nose as he stands up and flips me over like he did a minute ago. This time my boner hits his rock hard thigh and I would have screamed in pain except my tongue is plastered to the bottom of my mouth and a low gargling sound is all I can manage. He adjusts me so my cock's between his thighs. Then I hear his excited breathing as he takes his hand up and to the side and with all his might brings it down in an arc with the palm of his hand slapping across my buttocks; the stinging is painful and I can feel the skin being pulled up as the hand follows through. His big hand gets parts of both cheeks with each loud slap as he repeatedly smacked the same sensitive area. How the hell that hand could feel so hard when it had felt so soft earlier foundling my cock, I couldn't tell ya. It hurt so much I'm soon blubbering into the ball gag, tears running down my face, mucus running down my upper lip, me yelling in my head, "No! No! Please, stop! Please!" No amount of squirming could match Rene's strength; he easily held me in place with one arm. When I was nearly hysterical, flopping half off his lap, he stopped and stood me up, saying, "Stand right there or I'll spank you some more." My lips quivering, my ass on fire, my dick semi-soft and not feeling so good anymore, I stood straight as an arrow exactly where he'd placed me. He roughly washed my face with a damp cloth and said, "Stop the crying and I'll take off the gag." I got myself under control quickly; it felt so good not being spanked. He undid the gag, saying, "There, you're doing okay. The worst is over, now blow your nose," as he held the cloth to my nose; I dutifully blew my nose, he wiped it hard. "Stay!" he says, like you might give an order to your dog. I stiffened my body and stood at attention looking straight ahead.

Mohawk man goes behind me again muttering something and after a few seconds I can't resist looking over my shoulder to see what I'm in for next. He's rolling a condom onto his large boned-up cock, licking around his lips, happily mumbling to himself. He seems quite pleased with everything. His cock is fat and about seven to eight inches long with an exaggerated upward curve and a fat vein running up the underside. He'd gotten that scary boner mostly while spanking me. The head of his cock appeared to be expanding and contracting inside the tight condom. Rene's hands are shaky as he's excited and visibly aroused. Looking up at me, he said, "That was a good spanking! Everything considered, you accepted it pretty well, baby!" He was real sincere about the compliment and I almost forgave him for spanking me so hard. He stroked his boned-up cock saying, "Hold onto that bench with both hands, here comes what you've been waiting for. I'm going to pull your feet off the floor and fuck you a new pussy, boy." I grabbed hold of the bench quickly, as he took two steps towards me and right away his cock was pressing against my hole. Breathing hard through his nose, he got a hold of my hips, lifted my feet just off the floor and rammed that monstrous cock all the way up my ass in one steady motion. It hurt, but not as much as I expected because my ass was lubed so well from when he finger fucked my hole earlier, plus the condom was slippery with lube as well. Also my butt, ear and arm were stinging and it all kind of blended together into one big general hurt, and I wanted to cum so bad I overlooked a lot of it. And, compared to the spanking, his huge cock up my ass was child's play. He pulled his curved hunk of wood back out all the way to adjust the condom, muttering, "What a fabulous pussy you have here! I was so upset last summer I didn't fully appreciate it."

That's great, but dammit, now I gotta go through the entry again; why'd he pull out? He didn't explain, just shoved that dick back in the same way, "plunk!" The head goes past my sphincter muscle again and that bent cock plows my rectum with the curved head pushing upwards. It still hurt, but when he pulled pack and pushed up again I went, "Mmmm, yeah!" Rene blew out a lot of air and said, "This pussy was made for my cock!" He fucked me with long strokes and it was feeling even better than I remembered from last summer. I thought I'd pass out trying to climax though. My cock was a full blown boner again, leaking precum and full of blood. My balls ached like the worst case of blue balls ever, but at the same time it was incredibly erotic. Three minutes of steady fucking, me moaning with sensual pleasure. Then Rene pulls all the way out of me again, letting go of my hips as my feet hit the floor. Picking me up like a feather he turns to his left and lays me on my back across a work table, and says, "You deserve to cum baby, you've been a good boy," and he takes off my cock ring and testicle cuff. It feels wonderful so I tell him, "Thank you, Rene!" I'm feeling real close to him now, he's showing me some kindness! This messed-up twenty-something year old guy is my fucking hero at the moment; when he took off the ring and the cuff the feelings in my groin area matched how fabulous my anus and rectum feel. I moaned in pleasure, Rene stroked my boner saying, "You don't touch, this belongs to me now." I groan at how awesome his stroking felt. "That's my boy," he murmurs as he lets my cock go. I breathe out feeling as sexy as I've ever felt.

On the table my hole is level with Rene's crotch. He lifts my legs onto his shoulders and pushes his cock back up my ass again, and I moan, "Oh, fuck yeah!" Now the curved head is putting the extra pressure on new sensitive spots feeling even better than before. Cupping in front of my thighs with his big hands, keeping my pussy in place, he humps his hips steadily fucking me with that big curved banana; his eyes tightly closed, his lips pinched together blowing air out making grunting sounds, really fucking my ass. My boner is pointing straight up in the air. In less than two minutes I'm squealing like the good fairy I am and a long, thin stream of cum flies from my pee slit. It's a high shot straight up three feet, and then it loses energy returning to land on my belly, splattering Rene and me. My next four shots go up about a foot, then come down to pool higher up near my chest. I'm literally squealing in ecstasy as every muscle in my body's involved in this climax for the ages. Humping up off the table trying to get the Mohawk man's cock further up my ass, he's having his hands full keeping me from falling off the table, then he goes, "Ahhhh shit!" and slams into my buttocks keeping his cock there shaking his head so much I hear the piercings in his face pinging off each other. His face is bright red as he retracts slightly, then slams his crotch against my ass again. Making little mewing sounds, he fills the condom with his spunk. Just a few seconds later, he pulls his cock out stroking it and then strips the condom off and squeezes a drool of cum from his slit, groaning like he's in pain. With his boner in his fist, he bends down and takes my still-hard cock in his mouth to suck for cum droolings. I was totally spent and just lay there on the table dealing with the aftershocks of that over-the-top climax, my legs still over Rene's shoulders, bent at the knees. A minute later he pulls off my cock and licks the cum off my stomach, then looks up and orders, "You need to suck my cock now." I carefully removed my legs from his shoulders and without even a thought of protest, slid off the table to my knees and sucked his cock into my mouth as he lightly humps his hips. I sucked it and got two big dollops of creamy cum to swallow. He moved my head down a little so I could lick his balls and the inside of his hairy legs until he said, "Okay, honey, I can see you love your man's cock and balls. Next time I want that pink tongue up my ass, okay?" He's lifting under my chin so I'll look up at him, "Okay?" he asks again. I say, "Yes, Rene." He's pulling me up for a hug as he asks, "How was it for you? Did you enjoy everything as much as you thought you would?" I nodded, then remembered I'm supposed to speak, and said, "It was awesome," but without real conviction behind it because I felt as weak as a kitten.

Rene smiled his best smile and asked, "You my boy, Dylan?" I was coming down from the high of sexual delights, the fuck was quickly fading into a memory as I plucked a pubic hair from my mouth. I also was pretty much out of my trance by now, realizing I wasn't really his boy like I'd thought earlier. I say, "I'm your boy," anyway, just to speed things along. Why make waves at this late stage? I felt really wide open back there and sore from his huge cock, but the main sense I felt was one of relief. My climax had built up for over an hour and there's no question it produced the largest climax ever for me. Even though that's true, now that it's over there wasn't that usual wonderful feeling of being sexually satisfied. Oh, I was sexually satisfied alright, but not wonderfully so. I had to go through so much before I could climax, it became more of a chore than any experience I can think of. I leaned back against the side of the table while Rene disposed of his condom and then he brought over a chemical ice pack for me to sit on. "This will keep the swelling of your buttocks down," he said, then added, almost hesitantly, "That was a serious spanking, I got a little carried away because a perfect ass like yours got into my head and I couldn't stop spanking it." What could I say to that, I guess that was an apology? The cold ice pack was doing a great job making my ass feel better, my hole too, so I mumbled, "Oh, that's okay. I'm fine." Looking over at him I realized he never even pulled his pajamas down, he just pulled his cock and balls through the fly of his pajama bottoms. Taking a deep breath, he said, "I've only got ten minutes till my first appointment of the afternoon though, so I'm going to have to shoo you out of here soon." He went off to rummage through a drawer as I sat there enjoying the cold of the ice pack on my hot ass.

Five minutes later the ice pack had just about froze my ass and I can hardly feel my bum at all. Rene says, "Okay, let me get the initiation phase going and send you on your way. You need to be back in two hours for your tat treatment, so don't forget that." As he's talking, he's helping me stand up and I notice he has a pink silk piece of cloth in his hand. "Hands in the air like before, darling." I put my arms up as he slips this silky t-shirt on me. The bottom of it didn't even come down to my belly button and it was much too tight, plus the sleeves were puffed at the shoulders. Hey, this is a girl's T-shirt! Before I can say anything, he's like, "Lift your foot," I do and he slips a leg opening over it, "Now the other," he says. I do it and he pulls up a pair of too small pink silk panties. "The same color as your nail polish, dear." I'm like, "Wait a second!" He's persistent though, "One more lift," and I stupidly lift my foot so he can slide something else on it. "Last one, dear." What the fuck! I lift it, pissed off now. He pulls up a very small pink bikini bottom that doesn't even conceal the panties. I say, "No, don't Rene! We've... no, that's... this isn't right." He chuckles and says, "All my boys get an initiation, it'll give you something to take your mind off the aches and pains of your ear and arm and ass. Here, step into these slippers so you don't burn your sweet feet on the hot blacktop." He's pushing me towards the door, "NO! Don't... please, don't!" He chuckles again saying, "This will also teach you about humility and give you something to think about while you're getting used to your new Mohawk haircut. It's for your own good!" As the door opens, Rene says, "You have your wristwatch on, be back here in two hours so I can treat the tattoo," and pushes me outside; the last thing I see is my little pile of clothes next to the table Rene fucked me on... then the door clicks locked behind me. Hideously aware of my girlie pink clothing, I look around feeling the heat rise in my face from humiliation, then I notice how fucking hot it is out here too. I'm blushing from my chest to the top of my shining bald head. This has become my biggest blunder ever, I've had others, plenty of them, but this is number-fucking-one! What an asshole I am! Why'd I ever agree to any of this?

"Hey, Tinkerbell! You need to sue your fucking hairdresser! Ha, ha, ha!" I turn around and see a group of five young teen boys stopped on the boardwalk looking down the side of the Mohawk Piercing building at me. They're all smoking and taking turns taunting and mocking me. "Your panties are showing and what's with the green bedroom slippers, sweetie? They clash with your nail polish." I flash them the finger and they charge towards me as I run down to the parking lot, around the building and under the boardwalk. I had a big head start so, panting and my heart pounding, I look over my shoulder and see no one. In front of me is the lavatory Gary and I did it in, if I go inside I can hide for two hours in a locked stall. Oh man, this sucks! Wish I had a cigarette. An older man comes out of the lavatory, followed by a young kid of maybe fourteen. The kid's saying, "You said twenty dollars! This is a five dollar bill, dude!" The older guy is moving down the beach fast as he yells over his shoulder, "That's all it was worth!" Then the kid sees me and says, "Get the fuck away from me, ya pervert!" and starts yelling, "Freak, pervert!" I take off down the beach, with tears of rage in my eyes. This is awful! I hate that fucking Mohawk man with a passion. Then I hear, "Dylan! Wait up!" and I turn to see my new bird-faced friend, Gary. He's coming around the building with something in his hand and when he catches up he says, "Here, put this on, it'll cover all that girlie stuff." It was an extra large Philadelphia 76ers T-shirt and when I pulled it over my head it extended halfway down my thighs. All of a sudden I'm a teenaged boy again; one with a Mohawk haircut wearing green slippers, but a vast improvement over a queer boy wearing a girl's top and a pink bikini. I mumbled, "Thanks, Gary ," but couldn't help thinking if it wasn't for Gary I probably wouldn't be in this mess. He held out a pair of low cut Converse sneakers, saying, "These are mine too, they're way too big for those pretty feet of yours, but they're better than these girlie slippers." We walked into a shaded area where I stepped out of the slippers and into size eleven sneakers. I again mumble, "Thanks."

Garypicked up the slippers and stuffed them behind a trash container, "We can get these later," he quietly said. I stood there awkwardly for a second and then Gary put his arm across my shoulders and sort of gently tugged me into him, whispering, "I was across from the shop on the other side of the boardwalk waiting for you to come out. Rene told me this morning you'd be finished around two thirty. He wasn't sure you'd even show up though, but I told him you'd be there." I leaned into this tall gangling, pierced and tattooed kid feeling relief, and after relief I felt affection for him. If I didn't know him and saw him on the street it would be his strange appearance I'd remember, but he's more than his appearance; he's a gentle kind-hearted boy who's maybe a little kinky. He put his lips to my ear and says, "I love the way your Mohawk turned out. Rene gave me the boy's Mohawk at first, and usually the second one is just as short, but after that he lets you grow it in little by little." I nod my head as we're slowly walking down the sidewalk parallel to the boardwalk. Except for saying "thanks" twice, I was quiet. As the weirdness of this afternoon's activities was sinking in, the enormity of the weirdness was staggering. How do I get myself into these things? Gary, trying to sound upbeat, asks, "How do you like my new Mohawk, Dylan?" He's about four inches taller than me so I glance up and see his scalp is shiny bald now too, just like mine. Other than that everything looks the same as it did yesterday. I mutter, "It looks great, Gary ." He tightens his hold around my shoulders and says, "Was it real bad for you with Rene?" and I realize it hasn't been really bad, it's mostly the so-called initiation and spanking that's freaked me out. Other than that, I like the extra earring and I love the tattoo, the Mohawk is only okay though, but I'll get used to it. The sex was as hot a fuck as I've ever had although it wasn't truly sexy like it is with Robby or Willie, or even like yesterday with Gary . That's because there's no affection involved; I can't say I even like Rene really. When I was deeply dominated by him I thought he was my hero but reality always wins out and after the thrill of it all wears off, everything looked and felt different. To Gary I say, "It was okay, but I'm not used to my Mohawk hairdo yet and the initiation with all the girlie pink clothes freaked me out a lot."

Garyhas steered us up a ramp to the boardwalk, asking, "Okay if we walk on the boards, Dylan?" I go, "I don't care," but up on the boards there's a nice breeze off the ocean and it's a much nicer view too. I'm mostly sliding my feet instead of a normal walking step because the sneakers are so big on my feet that if I tried to walk normally I'd slip right out of them. We go two blocks in silence, his arm went from my shoulders to hug around my neck and then he nudged the side of my head over to rest against his shoulder, my left arm is around the back of his waist under his Polo pull-over holding his slim side and, at the same time, hiding my polished fingernails. My other hand's a fist, concealing the pink fingernails quite well. Finally Gary says, "Are you mad at me for taking you to see Rene?" He sounded so contrite I didn't have the heart to say I was, and anyway who's to say I wouldn't have been nuts enough to go on my own and then I wouldn't have had Gary to rescue me like this. This feeling of gratitude comes over me and I say, "I'm not mad at you, Gary , I'm grateful to you. Thank you so much for being there for me." He says, a little more animated now, "Ya know, you're in an exclusive club now. Rene's boys have a secret signal we give when we see each other on the boardwalk, or any place for that matter." He took his arm from around my neck and demonstrated. "It's this, Dylan," and he touched his breast bone with the side of his right fist and then took the fist down to his side. "That's how we salute each other without anyone else knowing what we're doing." I did the salute to Gary and he did it back to me, smiling. Then, putting his arm around my neck again and pulling my head over to his, we walked like that; me dragging my feet and holding onto him with my arm around the back of his waist.

We heard snide remarks occasionally and lots of people gawked at us but I followed Gary's lead and ignored them; well, it would be more accurate to say that I pretended to ignore them.Gary, still sounding like he felt he'd let me down, says, "I was right there when you came out of the shop, but those boys started teasing you and you ran off. I called out to you and followed, but you're quicker than I am. I knew Rene would try to humiliate you as an initiation, he does it to his new boys. He's a prick sometimes, but I'm kind of addicted to him, ya know?" Yeah, I can imagine how it might happen 'cause it happened to me when it dawned on me that the Mohawk man was controlling me. There's something about his dominant manner, it's a unique dominance him being so swishy and all, but susceptible submissive natures like mine and Gary's get attracted to someone like that. It's maybe for the same reason some are attracted to thrill rides. They're scary as hell, but there's a high to it too and when it's over you feel like you've done something not everyone can do, something that not everyone is up to. I say, "Yes, Gary , he can be addictive, I see that. Lucky for me I don't live around here." Gary says, "Yeah, but I wish you did because maybe you and me would get addicted to each other rather than to him." It's amazing how some people connect so quickly and easily. I don't think I've ever connected as quickly with anyone as I've connected with this exotic bird-like boy Gary, and him to me too. Wonder why we connected like this? Is it because I'm like an exotic bird too?

to be continued....

Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com