DYLAN'S VACATION BACK HOME
Chapter 21
by Donny Mumford
Back from the beach we're all taking showers and getting ready to go out to dinner. Chubby and I do that much quicker than our Moms, so we're on the deck drinking ice cold beers while they're still at it. I tell Chubby the bizarre situation Charlie and Ronny find themselves in. Chubby's a good listener and when I've finished, he goes, "Jesus, that's weird. Ronny's that guy on the boardwalk, the one I had a discussion about him saying, 'faggot', right?" I nod, "That's him, but he wasn't aggressive or especially rude today." Chubby says, "This is off topic a little bit, but I like that we both use euphemisms when the topic is sex, gay or straight. It allows us to share experiences without making either of us uncomfortable." I'm like, "Huh, I never thought about it like that before, but you're right. Using vulgar language makes sex seem lewd and, um, banal. " "Chubby lights a cigarette then, with smoke exhaling from his mouth and nose, he asks, "So, they want you to referee, so to speak?" I shrug, "I'm not sure why they want me there." Neither of us can figure it out.
The Moms make an appearance at the same time Rider and Bud are walking up the steps to the deck. It's quarter of seven by the time we're all settled on the deck with beers or cocktails. Bud and Rider are casually teasing our Moms about their smoking habit. It's light banter with all of us relaxed and feeling good. Latest I heard, we're not leaving for the restaurant until sometime after eight o'clock. By going later we're hoping to avoid the rush of families with children who need to dine earlier.
There's no getting around it, witnessing Charlie and Ronny having sex will be creepy. Yeah, but even though he's a bit of a jackass, I still feel sorry for Ronny. He's trying to find out who he is and he's obviously not sure how to go about it. Plus, I assume Charlie needs me there for moral support so what can I do but help them both out. A little after seven Charlie walks to the front of his deck and calls over, "Hey, Dylan, would you help me with something?" Yeah, sure. I give him a wave as Chubby's giving me a 'look', halfway grinning, aware what Charlie needs help with. I excuse myself and walk over to join Charlie on his deck. In a whisper, he says, "Tarleckie isn't sure he wants to do this now." I go, "Good! That's the best of both worlds. He asked you to fuck him so whether you do or not won't change the fact that he asked." Charlie goes, "Yeah, I was thinking the same thing."
I follow Charlie inside his condo, a condo that looks exactly like ours. In the bedroom Ronny's sitting on the edge of Charlie's bed holding a condom packet in his fingers. He looks up, "Dylan, this is too weird, don't ya think?" I go, "Absolutely. You guys don't need to do this now. You two are neighbors for fuck sake,; you've got all the time in the world. Wait for the right circumstance to develop and it might happen more or less on it's own." Ronny's frowning, "Like what circumstance?" I shrug, "Um, like when you're both drunk or high, something like that." He looks at Charlie, "Whaddaya think, Charlie?" He shrugs of course, then mumbles, "Who knows, but Dylan's definitely right that it would be better if we're under the influence of some kind of a banned substance." I snort out a laugh, then act serious saying, "It doesn't even need to be banned, it could be a six pack of beer, um, each." Ronny's pissed again, "You two are mocking me!" I say, "No we're not, Ronny, but this isn't supposed to be some serious endeavor. It should be spontaneous experimental buddy-sex. You know, when both of you feel like you want to do it."
Ronny's thinking, but only for two seconds or so, then he stands up and flips the condom packet to Charlie, saying, "Okay, Dylan. You're older and more experienced so I'll take your advice and wait for a time when Charlie's desperate enough to want to do it." Charlie says, "And when I'm drunk enough too." I do a couple of fake coughs to keep from laughing out loud, then my cellphone rings. I mutter, "Um, excuse me, guys." I take my cellphone out of my pocket and turn around, "Hello?" It's my mom asking if I want to invite Charlie to my birthday dinner. She knows his family is at a sushi restaurant because they talked about it on the beach today. I'm like, "Gee, it's nice of you to think of him, Mom." She says, "Well, it was actually Bud's idea, but I agree it's a nice thing to do." I'm like, "I'll ask him. See you in a few minutes." Turning back around and spreading my arms, I go, "So, we're all in agreement then, right?" Naturally Charlie shrugs. Ronny nods his head, mumbling, "Yeah, that makes the most sense," then to Charlie, "Maybe the Labor Day block party would be a good time for it. There's plenty of booze floating around then." Charlie mutters, "Yeah, and maybe we can smoke two or three joints with the booze." Another fake cough from me. Jesus, these two!
I pat Ronny on the back and sort of steer him out of the bedroom, then continuing out onto the deck with Charlie following. As we walk I'm telling Ronny, "Obviously, Ronny, this means ya gotta stop with the 'faggot' stuff or, well you know, it could turn back on you." He frowns, looking at Charlie, asking, "You're not saying anything to anyone about this, are you Charlie?" Charlie goes, "Of course not! Don't be stupid. Why would I want anyone to, um... it'll strictly be between you and me." He was going to say, 'Why would I want anyone knowing I had sex with YOU?' Ronny's nodding his head, then says, "Okay. Oh, and just so ya know, I won't be on the beach the next couple of days. We'll be in Atlantic City so my Dad can gamble, and Mom can visit with her sister's family. My aunt Ceil." Hearing that Charlie gets this bright expression on his face as I'm patting Ronny's back again, saying, "Well dude, we'll see you later this week then." He says, "Thank, Dylan, you're a good guy." I go, "Yeah, everybody tells me that, Ronny," and Charlie goes, "No they don't." I look back at him making a face as I'm walking Ronny down the outdoor steps.
The three of us stand awkwardly at the bottom of the steps for a few seconds, then Ronny says, "Well, I gotta get going I guess." Charlie and I both say, "See ya later," then I get pissed at myself because we said that too eagerly. Dammit! Ronny walks off giving us a little wave. I turn to Charlie, asking, "Don't you feel a little bit bad for him? He puts on his gruff macho act while inside all he wants is for you to like him." Charlie goes, "Fuck him. Like the Bible says, you sow what you reap." I go, "I think you got that twisted around a little. It's kinda true though that you can't always escape the consequences of what you do and say. Most things you do in life come back to you one way or another." Charlie says, "He's been mean to me for years, and now I'm supposed to forget all that?" I go, "Apparently you're not inclined to do that, but I think you should accept the olive branch and make life easier for yourself, especially considering you're neighbors and all." He chuckles, "Fuck a whole bunch of olive leaves." I say, "Olive branch," then he says, "All kidding aside, you're probably right. I do feel a little bad for him, especially now that's he's acting slightly normal." I'm like, "Now you're thinking forgiveness, which is a good thing. Turn the other cheek and all that stuff." Charlie shrugs, and I add, "We're on a roll with these good intentions so maybe we could read each other passages from the Bible to further this forgiveness trend." He snorts out his laugh, then looks serious, "You shouldn't make fun of the Bible, Dylan." I fake indignation, "Listen, buster, earlier this summer I went to church every Sunday, and then Bible study every Wednesday night. Make fun of the Bible, my ass."
He laughs, then asks, "Hey, can we sneak in some sex now? I'm willing to be the 'top'." I go, "Sorry my little sex-fiend friend, but I'm going out for my birthday dinner any minute now." He asks, "Where to," and I tell him, "Somers Point, at the Bay Shore restaurant, and by the way, you're invited." He goes, "Oh, I'm so sure I'm invited." I tell him about my mom's cellphone call, and he goes, "Really? I'd love to come. I was gonna have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, but um, will I need to talk with anyone other than you? I'm not good at that." I go, "Of course you won't need to talk to anyone, you're way too shy for that kind of interaction. You and me will whisper shit back and forth." He laughs, then says, "Okay then! I'll need to shower first though, and what should I wear?" I tell him, "Whaddaya mean, what should you wear? You see what I'm wearing? Wear something like this, dummy." He sarcastically mumbles, "I've no hope of ever being as cool as you, but I'll do my best." I'm like, "Well, go do it then! I'm going back and finish my warm beer." He starts up the steps, stops and turns to look at me.
We've been mostly talking tongue in cheek, but he looks serious now, saying, "Thanks, Dylan." I nod, "Sure. Just come over to the deck when you're ready. No hurry."
Walking across the alley to my place, I'm thinking, "Those two guys were in over their heads and needed a way out. A way out of their predicament where they both could save face, and they thought I'd have the answer. That makes me feel good." Back on the deck, Chubby asks me, "Everything okay over there?" I nod, "Yep, we came up with a solution that worked for both of them." Chubby asks, "Which was, what?" and I shrug saying, "They took my advice to put it off until another time. That's advice I often give myself."
Chubby grins and gives my hand a squeeze, mumbling, "The old 'put off a problem till later' solution, huh?" Chuckling, I nod and then at the first opportunity I break into the conversation to say thanks to Bud for thinking of Charlie. I add, "Charlie told me he was going to have a peanut butter sandwich for dinner." Bud says, "Oh jeez, good thing we invited him. Glad to have your new friend join us for your birthday." Huh, everyone knows I'm gay of course, and Charlie's parents have been talking with our moms for two days now, so they probably know Charlie's gay too. It makes me wonder what they all must be thinking about Charlie and me. Yeah, but so what? I'm over thinking again, like I do with too many things.
It's a beautiful night with low humidity and a refreshing ocean breeze to tame the eighty-five degree temperature, which really isn't too bad with the sun losing it's power at this time of day. Chubby's talking quietly to someone on his cellphone and I'm feeling mellow sipping my beer listening to Bud and Rider making the moms laugh. It's nice being around all these smiles. Very relaxing. Chubby finishes his cellphone call and we talk about how the work day might have gone for Robby with the borrowed workers from other crews. He had help though with Seth staying to work with him. As we talk I'm admiring how handsome Chubby's become, really healthy looking too with some sunburn on his nose. At work we wear hats that protect the top part of our faces from the sun. Then Chubby tells me, like he read my mind, "You get better looking every year, bro." Well I'll be damned, Chubby and I are always on the same wavelength. He adds, "And with your hair growing out now, my advice to you is don't walk by any modeling agencies. You don't want to get mixed up in that world." I'm shaking my head, muttering, "No one wants me modeling anything, and stop with the compliments or you'll force me to reciprocate and we'll soon be waltzing down maudlin lane together." He goes, "Well big brother, that's good advice right there from you. Um, I believe it's your turn to get us beers though." Rider asks the moms, "Shall we have one more cocktail before heading over to Somers Point?" Of course the answer is, "Sure," and we all get fresh drinks.
I guess Charlie is doing some extra preening before coming over because it's after eight o'clock before I see him walking across the alley. He comes hesitantly up the steps, then stops at the top one. We're all facing away from the steps, but I know he's there. Charlie quietly hisses to get my attention. I look over and he murmurs, "Hey, Dylan," nodding his head for me to come over to him. Ha ha, I'd feel a little awkward too if things were reversed and I was joining four adult members of his family who I hardly know.
I walk over, saying, "Good, you're here, Charlie," and put my hand on the back of his neck to give him an encouraging squeeze. He steps up on the deck and Chubby asks, "Can I get you a beer, Charles." He goes, "Yes, thanks, but only my mother calls me Charles." Chubby says, "Your mother, and now me. One beer coming up." The moms and their fiancés say hi to Charlie, with Tris adding, "Don't you look handsome tonight, Charlie." He inches a little closer to me, muttering, "Oh, um, thanks." He's not even sure if Tris is my mom or Chubby's.
I pull one of the chairs from the table over next to my captain chair and sit on it indicating Charlie can sit in the vacated captain chair. He sits down, and the beer Chubby gives him helps some. As Charlie is guzzling beer, Chubby says to him, "I understand you're a protege' on the harpsichord."
Charlie chokes on the beer, coughing and goes, "What's that?" Chubby looks startled, "Apparently I've been misinformed. What instrument do you play?"
I grin to myself because Chubby always has some way to break the ice for anyone who's kinda new to the group. Chubby formed sort of a bond calling Charlie 'Charles', and then goes into some bizarre banter, like the harpsichord nonsense to keep Charlie occupied and in the conversation. I remember times when I felt just like Charlie. Lighting a cigarette and passing it to Chubby, I ask Charlie if he wants one. He shrugs, saying, "Um, I don't smoke, but yeah I'll take one?" That's one of the things cigarettes are good for; they give you something to do. I pass him a Marlboro, saying, "Sorry it's not a joint," and he mumbles, "So am I," then he grins shaking his head, aware that he's acting dorky. Chubby is entertaining Charlie and me with a few factoids now.
I can think of many examples of Chubby making a newcomer comfortable, but the one that always comes to mind first is when I invited my sociall y-challenged, angry at the world acquaintance, Cory Dunlevy, for dinner at the college apartment. Chubby brings the new guy into the group in some mildly unexpected or outlandish way. His knack for hitting just the right note works every time. I first met Cory working at Stop & Shop when he was the poster child for homophobes, hiding from his own gayness at the time. He had a miserable home life back then too, and on top of everything else he was dealing with Cystic Fibrosis. Chubby made a reluctant Cory his 'wing-man' that night and before long I could see Cory relaxing and eventually having a good time. The last time I talked with him everything was great at home, and he has a boyfriend. I don't see him often enough though.
Everyone's in an up-beat mood as we leave the deck on our way to dinner. I drive Charlie, Chubby, and me to the restaurant in our Jeep; the others go in the BMW. By now Charlie's feeling okay enough to tell Chubby that he can't imagine eating sushi, saying, "Raw fish sounds disgusting." Chubby goes, "Yeah well, that's a popular misconception about sushi, Charlie. It's not all raw fish. That would be something called sashimi, not sushi. Sashimi is always raw fish often served in slices with dipping sauces. Sushi can have raw fish in it too, but more often than not, in the western world anyway, sushi is served with fully cooked seafood and sometimes as a vegetarian dis h." Charlie goes, "I still don't like it." Glancing over at Chubby, I mutter, "Really?" meaning did he have to drag out that bizarre information for us to digest. He chuckles knowing his factoids often baffle, and often are not believed. Which of course are the two main reasons he tells his factoids in the first place.
I drive us onto the parking lot across the street from the Bay Shore Restaurant. Their main parking lot is full at this time of night. Rider pulls in behind the Jeep a minute later. We all cross the street together and join the group of people waiting for tables. Rider gives his name to the harried
lady at the desk and we're told it'll be a twenty minute wait. Our plan to come late, expecting less diners, backfires on us. Bud mutters, "That's the one big pain in the ass about eating out at the shore. They don't take reservations." We find the bar area is crowded too, but there's nothing bashful about Rider or Bud. Those guys can be a little pushy when it's called for and because of that we get a table in back. It's the last table available with the previous occupants just called to dinner. It's also the table another group was walking towards ahead of us. Bud, accidentally on purpose, bumps into the man leading that group. The man's middle aged and rough looking with a tight buzz cut. Buzz cuts don't look all that good on middle aged, slightly balding men. This guy's wearing a wife-beater t-shirt to show off his muscles. While Bud's apologizing to the angry-looking man Rider hustled us to the table. We take our seats looking at the litter left behind by the previous occupants: empty highball glasses and plates containing left over celery and a smear of ranch dressing. Obviously they were plates of Buffalo Wings. The woman with the rough-looking guy is glaring at us and I make eye contact for a split second. Whoa, she a tough looking broad with tattoos up and down her arms, and there are three younger versions of the man and woman, who I'm guessing are their kids, all of them with scowls on their faces. None of them are pleased they lost the race for the table, but what can you do; possession in nine/tenth of the law, or something like that.
A pimply busboy clears the table leaving behind a whiff of BO. Then the waitress, when she finally gets to us, turns out not to be as forgiving as the waitress we had for dinner last night. Chubby and I order draft beers, and this waitress insists on seeing some ID. I'm twenty-one but I stupidly left my wallet in the car, and even though my mom and Rider vouch for me the waitress won't relent. "I gotta protect my job, folks. I need to see a picture ID." Chubby's annoyed, so to be a smart-ass he asks for a Shirley Temple, using a bad impression of a little girl's voice. The hard-ass waitress is not amused. She makes a sniffing sound, then bitchily says, "Do I seem like the kind of person who's looking for comedy relief, honey?" Nobody knows how to reply to that so we settle for three Cokes. Our dinner table isn't ready until forty-five minutes and two rounds of drinks later, not twenty minutes like we were told. On the plus side we get a nice table in front of floor-to-ceiling windows looking out at the bay. Sweet view!
We have a waiter tonight; a nice looking young lad with a prominent nose.
He has a swarthy complexion and very dark hair combed straight back. I'd guess he's probably a few years older then me. 'Nathan' is printed on his name tag. You don't run into a lot of guys named Nathan nowadays. You also don't run into a lot of guys as screamingly gay as Nathan. He's one or two steps up from swishy, although I don't know what that would be called. Nathan is also very nice and an extremely conscientious waiter. He doesn't take notes while the seven of us order drinks, appetizers, and our main course selections. Later, he serves our choices without making a single mistake, putting exactly what we each ordered in front of us. He doesn't need to ask, "Who has the salmon appetizer." He remembered it was Tris who ordered the salmon. Everything went like that through the entire meal. Pretty impressive memory.
Nathan has a wonderful smile too, and he shows it often. I'm impressed that someone so young could have such a polished and professional manner. When he was taking our beverage orders, I asked for a very dry Beefeater martini straight up, and Chubby said, "I'll have the same." Nathan smiled his great smile at us, and he smiles with his eyes too, as he asks Tris, "May I ask the age of these handsome fellows?" Tris said, "Dylan," pointing at me, "Is twenty-one today, and his brother, Jeff, will be twenty-one on Wednesday." Nathan grins and said, "Okay, and the little brother there isn't nearly twenty-one, right?" nodding at Charlie. Tris goes, "Well yes, Charlie was twenty a couple of days ago." Nathan says, "You're an extremely youthful and handsome family." There's no request for my ID. He took Tris' word for it, I assume. After a little bow of his head, Nathan takes a step back and goes on his way to place our drinks order. We all shake our heads like, 'what was that all about? Five minutes later here comes Nathan balancing a round tray with seven drinks on it. He places cocktails in front of our Moms, then Rider, and Bud.
Then, very carefully because it's filled to the very top, he sets my straight-up martini in front of me, saying, "Happy Birthday, Dylan." There's a fat olive on a spear at the bottom of the glass. Lastly Nathan puts tall glasses of lemonades with a cherry on top and straws in front of Chubby and Charlie. The glasses have various colored balloons painted on them. The look on Chubby's face is priceless! My smile almost reaches my ears, then I do a couple of fake coughs before muttering, "Colorful glass." Chubby goes, 'Well of all the bleeping nerve!" Nathan grins, "See me Wednesday and I'll buy you the drink of your choice, Jeff." We give him a little applause as he goes about his business.
Oh man, I pick up my drink and propose a toast, saying, "God bless these children we're dining with tonight," and, trying not to grin too hard, the other adults say, "Hear hear," and we click glasses as Charlie and Chubby shake their heads. Rider goes, "That was a classic moment, Jeff, one we'll all remember for some time." Chubby ignores the straw and gulps down half his lemonade, then stage-whispers to Charlie, "Never trust anyone over twenty." Charlie says, "I thought it was over thirty." I never know if Charlie is saying something seriously, or jokingly. I start to propose another toast, but my Mom says, "Don't overdo it, honey. Share your drink with your brother." That's a nice thought and I can see the influence the fiancés have.
Last night the Moms grumbled about Chubby having an underage cocktail. I pass my glass to Chubby, saying, "Not too much, it might burn your young throat." He takes a gulp then grunts out a laugh spitting some of the martini on his roll plate. Chub and I pass the martini back and forth making a face every time we swallow some of it. Chubby offers some to Charlie, but he just shakes his head. I order a second martini that Nathan brings me along with our appetizers. He has a knowing smirk on his face as he sets the martini down in front of me and takes away the empty glass that's in front of Chubby, who snatches the olive out at the last second and plops it in his mouth.
The dinner is a fun time and for dessert I suffer through the waitresses and waiters holding a cake with twenty-one burning candles singing the long version of happy birthday to me. It makes me blush self-consciously just like it did last year. How old do you need to be before you don't feel weird having happy birthday sung to you by strangers? Bud pays with his AMEX card and we all thank him profusely. The twins are generous guys who offer their generosity without saying a word about it, except acknowledging thanks, "You're very welcome. It's our pleasure." Ya gotta like class acts like those two.
The older adults are going to a club in Avalon. Chubby has a date with Ellie, and Charlie and I are going to the boardwalk. On the ride back to Wildwood, Chubby and Charlie sing happy birthday to me the entire trip. I do not blush during their rendition, but I do glance at Charlie a couple of times because, like Robby, he can actually sing. Chubby sings like I do, badly.
When Chubby drops us off a 36th street, we wave goodbye, then I tell Charlie, "Dude, you have a good singing voice." He smirks and says, "Yeah, everybody tells me that." I mutter his line, "No they don't."
We go on a couple of thrill rides, and walk the boards pointing out guys who we think would be perfect for each other, obviously choosing unlikely goof-ball looking candidates After a while Charlie asks, "Is this the kind of activity a twenty-one year old should be a part of?" I go, "Fuck, no! This is a fifteen year old's material, but I'm a little drunk. I almost hurled on the tilt-a whirl." He mumbles, "Everyone almost hurls on the tilt-a-whirl." We challenge each other to a miniature golf match with five bucks going to the winner, but when we get to the miniature golf layout there's too many parents with little kids whacking the different colored golf balls all over the place. We look at each other, shake our heads, and walk away.
Charlie says, "How about we have sex on the beach?" I go, "A birthday fuck, huh? You can be a stand-in for my boyfriend. Good idea." He goes, "I'm sure your boyfriends would think so too."
Walking down the steps to the beach I'm thinking how this reminds me of Fort Lauderdale when I was with the very gay, Terry. We had sex in the sand and in the ocean, if I am remembering that correctly. Carrying our sandals, Charlie and I walk in the sand close to the boardwalk continuing to say everything partially tongue in cheek. I'm like the all-knowing experienced expert on gay sex and Charlie's playing the part of the novice who's eager to learn. When we reach the end of the boardwalk we go down near the ocean and smoke a cigarette walking on the wet sand allowing the waves' to run-off to roll over our bare feet. We're now exchanging stories of how we first knew we were gay, how and when we came 'out', and the reactions of those we knew to the news that we're gay.
Coming to the end of the beach where it starts mixing with stones, then ugly sand-grass and dirt, we sit on an abandoned overturned row boat and tried to find a compromise for Charlie's haircut. One that would please his parents and that Charlie wouldn't hate. I tell him, "You could just continue with the long hair, ya know, if it means so much to you. After all you are twenty years old and able to decide what hairdo you want to wear." He shakes his head, then runs his fingers through the seven inch long hair on the side of his head, saying, "Nah, I want a change too. Mostly I'm tired of hearing about it from the 'rents." Without coming to a consensus about his hair, we light another cigarette and walk back towards the sandy beach until we hear subtle sounds; low moans and some heavy breathing. We stop, frown, and look around. Then Charlie points to moon shadows in the night up near the street. A guy and girl are having sex on a blanket, or tarp of some kind.
We can barely make them out, but it looks like the girl's sitting up, raising and lower herself, presumably on a guy's erected penis.
Putting my finger to my lips, "Shh," I nod towards the ocean and we go down to the wet sand again, not speaking until were well away from the couple.
Charlie says, "Maybe we can use their tarp when they're done with it." He makes me laugh with how seriously he says goofy things. Usually he's joking, but like I said it's not always easy to tell. When we're again approaching the beginning of the boardwalk, I say, "From here we could simply walk the two blocks to my condo." Charlie goes, "Nah, I was hoping we could screw in the sand. Ya know, so I can check that off my bucket list." I mutter, "You're too young to have a bucket list, and where did that phrase come from anyway?" He mumbles, "A movie, I think." It's too open here for sex, and even under the end of the boardwalk there'd be people right above us. The boardwalk at the end is twenty feet above the sand, but that's still too close to do anything involving squealing.
We walk back the way we came, away from the boardwalk. I'm thinking this isn't nearly worth the trouble, except Charlie obviously is stoked to do it.
We walked close to the water our first trip down this far on the beach, so now we walk near the top of the beach and after a while I see something ahead of us that we couldn't have seen from down near the water. It's a three sided alcove below street level. It was obviously intentionally dug out some years ago for reasons unknown. Sand and dirt have drifted over time to form a slope from the beach almost to the top of the side walls. The slopes are partially covered with that rough sand-grass. When we walk up to it I see the bottom is soft sand and the side walls reach a few inches higher than me. The two sides are made of what appears to be creosote treated railroad ties. The back wall is just packed dirt and when we walk inside and look out we can't see the waves breaking on the shoreline... the incline's too steep from here to the ocean. Charlie says, "Holy shit! We could move in here and no one would ever find us." A bit of an exaggeration since there's no roof and it's open in front, plus anyone walking by on the sidewalk above us, a mere few feet away, could look down and see us in this, whatever this is.
I mumble, "No way we're likely to find a spot safer than this to fuck in."
Charlie, ever the perfectionist, whines, "We should be nearer the ocean."
I mutter, "The ocean's sixty yards away. That qualifies as 'near'." He pulls his shorts and underpants down to just above his knees," murmuring, "Yeah, that's close enough and anyway I'm horny as hell." Glancing at that big dick of his I finally feel a little horniness myself. He holds out his dick with a grin on his face, saying, "I can't fuck you with a noodle." As I'm pulling my shorts down I have an idea, and say, "As much as I'd enjoy sucking that nice looking cock of yours, I have an idea for something different." He mumbles, "Why doesn't that surprise me?" I go, "Give me your dick." He shuffles forward and I take it from his fingers lining up the head of his cock with mine, then pulling the foreskin from my penis over his and covering both heads. Charlie moves his feet in place, grunting, "Oh my God, whaddaya doing? That feels, um, hot." I say, "A new friend of mine, a kid named Frankie Denton, recently reminded me of a little procedure called cock-docking, or just plain 'docking'. And get this,; he's the cousin of that fat Carl asshole I told you about." He goes, "The one who forced you to have sex?" I shrug, "He didn't exactly force me, but never mind that now."
As I try stroking our flaccid docked cocks Charlie shudders, giggling, and his cock pulls free. "That feels, I don't know, weird. How's it work, Dylan?" I go, "It won't work at all if you can't stand still, numb-nuts." He steps close to me again and I pick his soft cock up, telling him, "That kid, Frankie, claims it works better with boners, but I want to try it this way." He says, "We're still gonna fuck though, right?" I do a quick look around, telling him, "Keep your voice down. Someone could be walking on the other side of the street and we can't see them from down here." I try a couple of times, but our cocks are too floppy, so I mumble, "Frankie's right,"
and bend at the waist taking Charlie's cock in my mouth. He smells clean tonight after his shower a few hours ago. He rubs my head, murmuring, "Mmmm, oooh, yeah, feels good, Dylan." His cock firms up in less than a minute, but then I noticed before that he gets aroused quickly.
Stroking his saliva ladened cock a few times, I mumble, "Now mine," and Charlie bends over to suck on my cock. Mine is not as limp as it was a minute ago. I tend to spring a boner while sucking another guy's cock so, like Charlie, I get aroused pretty easily too. He's got a really good cock to suck too, long and heavy. It's going to feel awesome up my ass. With the top of Charlie's blond head against my belly and his long blond hair hanging below my balls, they're tickling the inside of my thighs a little. Charlie's hair looks pretty shining in the moonlight. Maybe I'll grow my hair out that long just to see what it's like. Charlie makes slurping sounds sucking cock and I kinda like that, but it's not long before I need to say, "Umpth,"
that's enough Charlie." He lifts his head, and I grunt out, "You suck cock good. You'd have me blowing my load in another ninety seconds." He shrugs, "Thanks, I've sucked Geoff's little cock about fifty times." Lining our cocks up again, I ask, "How little is Geoff's cock?" He goes, "About the same size as yours," and he laughs as I mutter, 'Asshole."
It's much easier with firm cocks. "Okay, Charlie, I got it now," and I do a tight stroke up my cock, then over the docking, and down his cock, then back the other way and Charlie makes a long hissing sound, then mutters, "Jesus Christ, I'm gonna cum." I do three more tight steady strokes and his hips hump as he pours warm creamy cum over the head of my cock. Fuck, I thought he was kidding! Balls! Taking my hand away, I step back holding my breath trying not to climax myself. Gasping, I mutter, "That was close. When your cum hit the head of my cock it was like this awesome sensation.
Mind-blowing knowing it's your cum squishing around the head of my dick and under my foreskin." He goes, "Well, you've had your little fun. The question becomes: how the hell am I going to fuck you with my dick a long noodle again."
Hmm, I didn't think this through very well. Pulling up my shorts, determined to feel that cock of his up my ass, I say, "We'll walk around, have a smoke or something, until you can get hard again." He snickers, "Yeah, it don't take me too long. That felt really good though." I tell him, "Well, pull your fucking shorts up and we'll check this area out closer. See if we overlooked anything."
We walk up the embankment to street level and see houses across a rather wide street with has cars parked on both sides. No one's walking around, although I can faintly hear voices coming from some of the decks. Lots of lights on in the house, but no street lights. Checking my watch I see it's coming up on midnight. That's no problem since no one's expecting us. We light cigarettes and walk back onto the beach. I've got my arm across Charlie's shoulders telling him, "You really need a boyfriend to fall in love with, Charlie." I tell him more about Robby's and my long love affair and some of the ups and downs that he may experience himself someday. He finally says, "Fuck, if I was in love like you two, I'd never screw around on my lover."
Taking my arm off his shoulders, I mutter, "Well, how fucking noble of you.
Anyway, how do you know what you'd do since you've never been in love?" He goes, "Its common sense, common decency you don't cheat on a lover as nice
as yours."
After pouting for a minute at his criticism, and not talking to him, I tell myself to grow-up and I try explaining that it's Robby's and my personal plan to get all the side-sex out of our system before we get married, "You know, so we won't crave it after we're married." He looks at me, asking, "Seriously? I mean, you're actually being serious with this bull shit?" I'm frowning at him, "What's wrong with it?" He goes, "Well fuck, you're just deepening your habit of side-sex more than getting it out of your system."
Taking an exasperating deep breath, I mutter, "There's no way you could understand. It's too advanced a concept for you to comprehend with your limited exposure to sex and love." He laughs, "Okay, Dylan, if you say so. Far be it from me to discourage you from having sex with me. This has been the best few days I've ever had, where sex is concerned. You're turning me into an experienced sex partner." I mumble, "Not hardly, Charlie."
We walk without talking for a while, then he puts his arm around my waist and moves his head close to mine, "You're not mad at me, are you, Dylan? I was just breaking your balls back there." I shrug and he shrugs too, doing his snorting little laugh. Then I go, "Actually you'd be right for most people, but Robby and I aren't most people. I can see me saying to some random lovers what you said, but it doesn't apply to Rob and me." Trying to backtrack, he goes, "I believe that, really I do. I can see you're special and I bet Bob is too." I go, "It's Rob, not Bob." He says, "Oh, is his name Robert?" Oh fuck, I do one of his snorting laughs, then say, "Yeah, it's Robert and his nickname could be Bob, but it's not. It's Rob!" Charlie shrugs, "Just saying..." I ask, "Has anyone every mentioned anything to you about you getting on their nerves?" He laughs, "Yeah, just about everybody says that."
I say, "Lets break another rule of the Wildwood beach and skinny dip in the ocean at midnight. Actually it's two more rules we'll have broken; no, it's three altogether. They can add the broken rule of walking on the beach after eleven o'clock at night, and smoking on the beach, then skinny dipping." He goes, "Oh goodie, a three-bagger of broken rules." I mumble, "Too bad we don't have a dog we could walk on the beach. That'd be like an inside the park four bagger." Charlie's one of those guys who's up for anything, so he goes, "Skinny dipping it is, why not have the whole shore experience!" I'm like, "Yeah, I believe skinny dipping is mandatory if one wants to do it all." Carrying our sandals we walk down to the packed wet sand, that's just out of reach of the run-off from the waves, and put out sandals down there. Pulling off our shirts and placing them on our sandals, then the same with our shorts and underwear. Bare ass naked we run into the ocean until we're in deep enough to dive under.
We try telling each other it's not cold, but without the sun it is kind of cold. Charlie hugs me shivering, saying, "Our body heat's the only thing that can save us now, Dylan." He has a nice body for hugging and we get our arms around each other and try intertwining our legs, tripping ourselves in the process and both falling under water again. We come up sputtering and spitting out sea water. I mutter, "We're a couple of spastics." He's grinning hugging me again, his long wet hair flapping around. We start humping our pelvises together and in short order I get a hard on. Turning him around I try getting my dick up his ass but it's not a comfortable feeling so we give up and wade to shore. Out of the water we start shivering with Charlie's teeth chattering so we hug for real, getting tight together, which does nothing to lessen the hardness of my cock.
Rubbing our hands over each other's back we warm up enough to break our embrace, but we're still too wet to put our clothes on. Walking around naked in the warm air we begin drying off. Charlie puts his hand on my shoulder, saying, "You know what? If you were my neighbor instead of Tarleckie I'll bet you and me would fall in love." This he says very seriously, I think. I grin at him, "Probably, Charlie." He says, "You said you kiss before sex."
I shrug, "Yeah, as foreplay, especially with my boyfriend." He asks, "But never with guys you call sex buddies?" I go, "What are you talking about? I kissed you, didn't I? Hell, we made-out for like fifteen minutes the other day." He nods, "Yeah, we did, didn't we? Can we do it some more.? I liked it." Spreading my arms, looking around us to indicate to him how fully exposed we are. He grins saying, "Yeah, we're out in the open, naked in case you
forgot, so what difference does it make if two naked guys are kissing? We're fucked either way if a beach patrol happens by.
Can't argue with that logic, so we embrace and our lips meet. He's still too enthusiastic a kisser, but I'm enjoying his exuberance. There's really nothing not to like about Charlie. He's affectionate, cute, he has a nice body, and he's crazy about sex. Our making-out builds into something, and it isn't long before I'm not the only one with a boner. Our hands have been all over each other's naked bodies and it's been nicely sexy and even a little sexually hot. After a few minutes we're clinging together, the sides of our faces together as we both gasps for air. I say, in between deep breaths, "Let's get our clothes." He gives me a tight hug, then we get our stuff off the sand laughing at each other because we both have hard boners up against our bellies.
Walking up to the alcove carrying our clothes and sandals, then in the alcove we drop everything in the sand and Charlie hugs me from behind humping against my ass. Without either of us saying a word his boner's at my asshole and he has this unusual way of plugging half the head in my anus, then wrapping his arms around my waist and instead of humping his cock in, he applies constant pressure against my anus until the head of his boner slowly and tightly pushes past my sphincter muscles, then he keeps pushing it up my ass until he's flat against my back .That's a big boner on that boy and it hurt like hell the entire time it was going up my ass. I held my breath the thirty seconds it took him to get it all up there. Now I do a long gasping exhale and groan, "Oow, oooh, fuck that hurt." It's not only the length and girth of his boner, but the salt water dried on his dick and the salt left behind scratched going in. Charlie pulls it out right away, which hurt almost as much as him pushing it in. I bend over holding my breath again and not thinking about anything except the pain in my rectum.
As the pain recedes I exhale and grunt out, "What the fuck, Charlie?" He's real contrite, "I'm so sorry I hurt you, Dylan. I really am." He goes through the pockets of his shorts, saying, "Ronny threw his condom packet at me before he left. Yes, here it is. It's lubricated." I nod, not sure I want his boner up my ass again this soon, lubricated or not. He's rolling it on his cock, saying, "Geoff and I used condoms on the dildos every time. We change them each time too because he has that thing about feces." Whatever.
His condom-covered boner is still very hard and now lifting away from his stomach. He must have been very aroused shoving it up my ass a minute ago.
I'm thinking maybe I'll fuck him instead, when he says, "Please let me try it again. I need to get experienced being a top even though I love being the bottom." I shrug, which he ignores this time. He's looking at me with pleading eyes. Oh fuck, I say, "Sure, my ass is feeling better already."
He puts his hands on my shoulders and gentle turns me around, murmuring, "I'll do it slower this time." The lubricated nipple at the end of the condom, supposedly to handle the orgasm fluid, hits my asshole first, then it's the head going in halfway. He puts his arms around my waist and does it the same way as last time. Pressure, then more pressure, finally stretches my anus and the head slides past my sphincter muscle going in easier with the lube. He'd partially stretched my anus during his first penetration, so that helped too. It's a much better trip up my ass this time, although there's still some pain. His boner's not as long as Ryan's by an inch, but it's at least as thick. I don't want to seem wimpy to Charlie though, and I have my pride, so I keeps my groans from the hurt to myself. Charlie sees me as this sophisticated sex expert so I hold my breath. He's fully impaled me now and leaning tightly against my back while squeezing his arms around my waist.
With his lips at my ear, he asks in a murmur, "Everything okay?" I exhale a long held breath, quietly saying, "Just give it a few more seconds, Charlie. You're rather well -endowed so we need to let my rectum get used to your big cock." As usual it soon begins feeling good. I haven't been this filled up in a while, and just picturing it in my head, his big cock packed tightly up my ass with Charlie draped all over me makes my shoulders shudder.
He goes, "Feeling good now, right?" I nod my head and he pulls his cock back, murmuring, "I'll do it real easy, Dylan," making me do one of his snorting short laughs again. He goes, "What?" and I'm like, "It just struck me funny how you're treating me like it's my first time when it's only your second time, and I've had sex, um, more then that." He goes, "Well, I don't want to hurt you." I mumble, "I appreciate that, Charlie, but it's feeling really good right now. Go to it whenever you're ready."
Charlie is still cautiously taking it slow for the first couple of minutes and I'm sucking on my lips because it does feel awesome. My prostate is sizzling and my stretched anus is like a bad itch that's being scratched deliciously. Soon though Charlie begins moaning with each push of his boner up my ass. He's like, "Oooh, ooh, ooh," with each thrust and as the sensations pile up on his pecker he begins thinking only about that throbbing cock of his and begins fucking me faster until it's the full blown, "Slap, slap, slap, slap," sounds of him slapping against my buttocks with each thrust.
We're both moaning now, eyes closed and our bodies jostling as he rams it in harder and faster. I hardly know it's Charlie fucking me by now because my brain is overloaded with sexual pleasure. Every fraction of an inch in my rectum is buzzing with pleasure. His body slamming against mine pushes me forward a little with each thrust until my hands are against the packed dirt at the back of the alcove. "Slap, slap, slap," with grunts and moan from both of us. Then quickly my climax comes on me and I gasp, tighten all the muscles in my body, and hump my hips forward with my cock now sticking straight out. I do my involuntary squeal as my orgasm explodes and cum flies straight out splattering against the packed dirt a foot from the end of my hard
cock.
Charlie's totally against my body humping against my butt cheeks making a breathy whiny sound as I suppose he's filling the condom with cum. I hump again and shoot a shorter shot of spunk then grab my cock and stroke our some more creamy jism. Then, just that quickly, both of us are spent, limp, and taking deep breaths. He backs away from me pulling his cock out of my ass. It's wide open back there but because of the condom no cum is drooling out. My ass is sticky with lubricant though. I push off the wall of packed dirt and watch Charlie pull the condom off. He holds it up and looks at the golf ball side load of cum, saying, "It felt like a lot more than that shot out." I go, "Yeah, it usually does."
He drops the condom and passes me my shirt. As I pull it over my head, he asks the inevitable question, "How'd I do, Dylan. Did it feel good?" I pat his shoulder and build him up saying it was an awesome fuck, and then add in some compliments about his penis. He's all smiles, and what the hell, it was a good climax I had. Not in the same category as any climax Robby fucks out of me of course, but all climaxes are good. Some are spectacular though as I can attest to. We get dressed with my shirt sticking a little to the salt on my back left there from the ocean water when it evaporated.
Walking back towards the boardwalk a half mile ahead, I ask, "Does it seem like it's getting darker to you, Charlie?" We both look up, "Yeah, it's getting real cloudy. Can't see any stars." I go, "Oh balls, it might be rainy day at the shore tomorrow." Charlie puts his arm across my shoulders, saying, "Ya know what? I'd love to spend tomorrow in bed with you and let it rain all it wants." I go, "That's nice of you to think about me like that, Charlie, but it's probably not gonna happen." He mumbles, "I know that, I was just telling you what I'd love to do." It is flattering I suppose.
The sky opens up just as we reach the boardwalk. We don't even speed up our walking as the rain's coming down so hard each drop splatters when it hits the street. After the five minute walk to the condos we're as saturated as if we just got out of a pool. Standing in the alley halfway between Charlie's and my condos, I say, "Maybe I'll see ya tomorrow, Charlie." He goes, "Yeah, I hope so. G' night, Dylan," and we walk in the pouring rain to the steps of our decks and up we go as I'm thinking that Charlie does casual buddy sex as well as Frankie does it. Those two 'get' it.
to be continued... Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com
donnymumford@outlook.com
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Hoping some readers may be interested, there are books of mine published and available on Amazon.com. Anyone who has Kindle can download them for next to nothing. The books are under ten dollars. They are about a 19 year old gay boy (Oliver) who has a far different life than Dylan's. And there is a new book, 'Mike, his Bike and Me'. Please at least check them out by typing my name on Amazon.com. Information about the story in the books can be found in some detail there. Thank you.
Donny Mumford
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