DYLAN'S VACATION BACK HOME
Chapter 22
By Donny Mumford
Walking inside our rented condo with rain dripping off me I leave a trail of wet footprints into my bedroom. Huh, I'm feeling pretty good considering I got caught in a torrential downpour. Raining at night's one thing, but it better be over with by morning! After yanking off my sopping wet clothes I take a quick warm shower, then dry myself, put on boxer shorts and get in bed. I'm the first one home at one o'clock in the morning and I'm out like a light sleeping so soundly I never hear Chubby or the moms come home.
It's now nine-thirty Tuesday morning and I'm awake laying here looking out the window at a gray morning with rain still coming down. It's not raining nearly as hard as it was last night coming off the beach with Charlie, but it's a steady rain. Swell, a rainy vacation day at the shore. Glancing over at Chubby, who's still sleeping soundly in the bed next to mine, all I can see of him is the back of his head and the covers moving slightly with his breathing. I get up to take a piss, wash my hands, and brush my teeth...
then right back to bed. The next thing I'm aware of is the shower running in our bathroom. Chubby's up and as usual he's left the bathroom door open.
Checking my wristwatch I'm happy to see it's almost eleven o'clock which means I had a helluva good night's sleep! Normally after that much sleep, waking up to a sun-shiny day, I'd be raring to go. It's not a sun-shiny day though, so there's little incentive for me to get out of bed.
I'm still in bed when Chubby comes out of the bathroom, naked of course.
He has a towel over his shoulder and a sparkling smile on his face. "Hey, Dylan. G'morning!" He comes right over to hug my shoulders and give me a quick kiss on the lips. He smells like bath gel and peppermint toothpaste. I go,
"Hi Chub! How ya doing this morning?" He tells me, "I'm good, bro, except it's fuckin' raining on our parade." I shrug as he smiles brightly, "Lets go to a bar and get drunk." I grin, "We'll be drunk some time tomorrow, I'm pretty sure of that." He goes, "Yeah, heh heh, I'll finally be legal age."
I ask, "What time did you get in last night?" He's like, "Jeez, I don't even know. The moms' bedroom doors were closed though, so it must have been after two. Ellie is so much fun and so 'up' for, ahh... just about anything.
I wish she lived closer to us back home. Commuting to Delaware probably wouldn't work out." As he's telling me that he's going through a drawer in the bureau dropping clothes on the floor left and right, looking for something. We've been here three days and I've had to pick-up our bedroom floor twice already. I'm more of a neatnik than my brother, but because it's Chubby I don't mind picking up after him... he doesn't mind either.
He finds the t-shirt he's looking for and then he stuffs some of the clothes he dropped on the floor back in the drawer. I mutter, "Thanks," with a grin. He goes, "Huh?" not knowing what I'm referring to. I smile as Chubby points at the window with his thumb, asking, "What should we do today in the rain?" I say, "As long as you're doing it with me, I don't much care.
Whatever you wanna do is good by me." He mutters something I can't hear as I get out of bed and go in the bathroom to pee, wash my hands and face, and brush my teeth again. While I'm doing that Chubby stands at the bathroom door wearing the t-shirt he was looking for, but nothing else, as he asks, "How 'bout we go to the Atlantic City Race Track?" I go, "It's closed forever, as of last February. I remember reading about it online." He goes, "Dammit!
You're twenty-one and could have placed bets for us." Done my piss, I'm washing my hands as Chubby tells me, "Well fuck it then, there's other race tracks in New Jersey. I'm going online to see if there's one within, um, say a
hundred miles." I shrug, than chuckle to myself because I seem to have picked-up this shrugging-habit from Charlie.
Out of the bathroom now, I lean over Chubby with my hand on his shoulder looking at his laptop screen. He goes, "Well I'll be a sonofabitch! There's an active race track in Freehold, New Jersey, which is about a hundred miles from here straight down the Garden State Parkway, but there's no racing during August." I go, "Too hot for the horses, and anyway that's Harness Racing." He goes, "Oh man! What are we going to do today?" Stopping myself before I shrug, I mumble, "Atlantic City boardwalk? The Steel Pier is supposedly pretty cool and we can do some gambling on the slot machines in one of th e casinos." He's shaking his head, then he says in an imitation baby voice, "I'm not old enough to be in a casino," then in his regular voice, "Why the fuck couldn't it rain tomorrow instead of today" I pat his shoulder, "That's alright, sonny, you'll be all grown-up someday." He mumbles grumpily, "Yeah, like tomorrow, but that doesn't do us any good today."
After putting on baggy shorts and a t-shirt I walk into the kitchen leaving Chubby scanning though an online list of '142 things to do in Wildwood New Jersey'. The moms are up and we exchange cheery 'hellos'. Tris says to me, "It's raining, honey, what are you boys going to do?" I shrug, "We don't know yet, but we'll think of something." My mom says, "You can come with us and the guys. We're going to Atlantic City where Rider's going to break the
bank. Is that right, Tris?" Tris says, "More likely he's going to lose the shirt off his back." Mom says, "The slot machines are fun though. How about it, Dylan, want to join us." I shake my head, "No thanks, Chubby's not twenty-one until tomorrow so he wouldn't be allowed in the Casino." They both nod their heads, mumbling, "Oh yeah, well..." Chubby comes out of the bedroom, muttering to me, "A hundred and forty-two things to do in Wildwood, and a hundred and thirty of them you can't do in the rain. The other twelve are so boring they shouldn't even be listed." Then he puts this really bright smile on his face, saying, "Good morning, Moms! Don't you two look pretty this morning!"
I tell him, "They're going to Atlantic City today," and Tris says, "We're going to gamble a little bit, see a show, and have dinner there. We planned on spending a day in Atlantic City anyway, and since it's raining...
today's the day." Chubby goes, "Breakfast! That's what we'll do first!" He makes scrambled eggs and I fry bacon while the moms make toast discussing which washed-up entertainer's show they'll see in Atlantic City. We all chose our favorite K-cups of coffee and sit down to break our fast. After eating and cleaning up the kitchen, Chubby says, "Well, brother, we might as well do what most everybody in Wildwood will be doing, and hit the arcades." I ask, "Did you check the weather forecast? Maybe it won't be raining all day." We go in our bedroom again and fire-up the laptop. I pat Chubby's shoulder, "See! It's supposed to be sunny later this afternoon." He goes, "Goodie.
We'll have enough time to buy a bucket and shovel so we can dig in the wet sand and make a castle." I ask, "Did you read where there's fetal matter in the sand beaches, and germs or bacteria that won't die. It's a disturbing article I read online last week." Chubby has his hands over his ears, "I'm not listening. No sense telling me shit I don't wanna hear because I'm not listening." I mumble, "You young'uns and your childish outbursts! The article was one of Yahoo's. They always have lots of outer space articles too."
Chubby's takes his hands away from his ears chuckling and shaking his head, then goes back to scrolling Wildwood online sites trying to find something different for us to do in the rain. I do a little ball-busting, saying, "Until the rain stops I think I'll spend some time drinking draft beer at Gregory's Bar with the other adults. Maybe shoot some pool." He laughs, jumps up from his chair and gets me in a headlock and we exchange a little bodily
contact for a minute or so. Chubby smells like himself now that the bathing gel scent has faded away.
We finally decide against the arcades because they're a money pit and they'll be too crowded. Instead we're driving to Cape May to hit golf balls again. This Cape May driving range has two levels; the top one with a roof so you can hit golf balls rain or shine. We'll kill some time hitting a bucket of golf balls and go on the beach later this afternoon when the sun comes out. We need the practice anyway if we're ever going to play a real golf course. During the ride to Cape May I tell Chubby about the hardly used golf clubs of Ryan's that Mrs. Wilcox gave me. He goes, "That's cool, but until you see them in your hands they're not really yours." I go, "Ryan said he'll send them to me via UPS. I believe him." We find the driving range, thanks to our GPS, and see right away we aren't the only ones to think of this.
All twenty-five top spots are in use and there's even some die-hards hitting balls on the first level which is only partially protected from the rain.
The roof extends further out up top, but down below the rain's blowing in on the golfers. They don't appear to care.
We buy buckets of range balls, rent drivers, and take a number. It's like you do for cold cuts at Stop & Shop; get a number and then wait until your number is called. We go up top and Chubby immediately strikes up a conversation with three girls who are waiting for their number to be called.
They're apparently going to be sharing one bucket of balls as well as one golf club. Chubby's asking the cutest girl, who isn't all that cute, if she'd give him some golfing pointers. While he's doing that I'm checking out the various skill levels of the people driving golf balls. It varies widely and then there's the goof-offs. Five boys about fifteen or sixteen years old taking turns seeing how badly then can hit the golf balls. None of them are all that cute, and a couple are downright goofy looking. They look so young though as they laugh and make fun of each other. They're pretty much like most kids, dressed for each other in over-sized clothes, sneakers, and baseball caps on backwards or sideways trying to look confident. They're full of pretense when in reality all of them are a little overmatched by the speed at which the world's coming at them. Chubby and I were like that not too long ago ourselves. Funny how the messing around these boys are doing is getting on my nerves when I can see myself doing it at their age. They haven't a clue how annoying they can be to someone a mere five years older. They'll find out what a pain in the ass they are, but like me it'll be too late by then.
Tired of watching the boys' shenanigans, I glance further down the line at a couple who look to be about thirty years old. They're both dressed like they're going to a trendy nightclub. She's wearing skin-tight designer jeans with someone's name on the back pocket, and spiked heels. Her top is a low
cut scarlet blouse worn open over a lavender t-shirt. Many gold chains around her neck and bracelets on her wrists that jangle when she swings the club, badly. She annoys me too. The woman's hair is the color of jonquils and her tanned face the color of honey. Not much make-up and I have to admit she's pretty, and quite agile hitting golf balls in those spiked heels while defying gravity. Her boyfriend's trendy outfit looks like it's being worn for the first time. There's something too smug about them, like they think everyone is here to watch them. I'm wondering if a twenty-one year old guy will be critiquing what I'm wearing when I'm thirty.
Then the girls' number is called and they have slot 14. Chubby goes with them and I grin watching the girls take turns giving Chubby lessons on driving the golf ball. He acts spastic and they're all laughing. Each girl takes a try at demonstrating her golf swing, then a girl with the blackest hair I've ever seen stands behind Chubby, her arms reaching around him, her hands on his hands as she tries to show him the correct arc for taking the club back. The funniest part is none of the girls knows what they're doing. They all have terrible golf swings; comically terrible. They're laughing and having a grand old time as I realize they're just as annoying as the teenage boys and the over dressed thirty-something couple. Oh man, maybe too many things annoy me. I need to chill out.
It's almost an hour before our number's called and by then the sun's out.
Everything looks new after it rains with the sun shining on the wetness.
The girls are long gone by now. Chubby's telling me two of the girls slipped their cellphone numbers to him. I ask him, "You going to call either of them?" He goes, "Nah, there's only one of them slightly interesting as far as I'm concerned and she was the most aloof of them all." I ask, "You mean stuck-up? Was it the girl with the fat ass?" He laughs, "They all had fat asses. No, the girl with the braid in her hair and the black nail polish." I shrug, "What's hot about her? She had a ring in her nostril." Chubby goes, "She was sexy, bro!" Eye of the beholder I guess.
The temperature warms up fast and we're sweating by the time we've hit all the balls in our baskets. Unfortunately I didn't see any improvement in either of our driving skills, but I think I'd be okay on a golf course, at least when driving and putting. The trouble is there's some important shots in between those two functions that I need lots of work on. Specifically fairway shots and using a pitching wedge around the greens. You can't tee the ball up in the fairway, which sucks. Oh well, I'll need to hit many practice balls using the numbered iron clubs. To simulate hitting balls off the fairway I'll hit balls off the mat at a driving range, plus play many rounds on pitch and putt courses to improve my pitching wedge skill level. And I guess take some more golf lessons too. Fuckin' golf, it looks way easier than it is.
Anyway, now we're on our way back to Wildwood planning to eat lunch on the boardwalk and then get our swimsuits and spend the rest of the afternoon on the beach. We've only lost a morning of beach time so if it doesn't rain again the rest of the week, I can live with the loss of one morning on the beach. We eat at Mac's Pizza because it's really good pizza, very different from any other pizza I've ever had. Most pizza shops use generic pizza sauce and it's hard to tell one from the other. Then there's Mac pizza with the thin crust that doesn't droop when you pick a slice up, but it's mostly the sauce that makes it unique. I couldn't begin to try describing it. It just is. By the time we get to the beach the sand has dried, which is good, but there's seaweed in the water which isn't good. After the storm though the ocean's rougher than normal with good waves for body surfing and that's very good. What's also different is that the moms, Bud, and Rider aren't here, and neither are the Barn's family who apparently decided this was an entirely lost beach day and came up with an alternate plan.
So it's Chubby and me on the beach alone this afternoon; alone with maybe fifty thousand strangers. It's a very different experience with just the two of us, and I like it a lot. I mean, I like the chatter and company of the others in our beach group, but Chubby and I don't get a chance to spend private time together as much as we'd like. That's true except on vacation when we often spend some hours just him and me. We talk about personal things.
Today we're talking about Cubby's plans for after college, which I've never asked him about in a serious way before. He tells me it's something he's given a lot of thought. He tells me during his initial research he mostly came up with jobs and professions he doesn't want to do, instead of ones he might want to consider. He says, "For example, Dylan, I can't see myself working nine to five in an office hovering over a computer. It's a computer world though, so I began looking into lesser known career computer-related job opportunities and discovered interesting esoteric parts of the computer world that have some allure to me." I ask, "Like what, Chub?" He goes, "Programming and video game design for two. They involve lots of math which I'm good at. There's also tech support, software development, animation, web technology, things like that." I go, "Wow, you've been busy researching that
stuff, huh?" He makes a face, squeezing my shoulders, saying, "Yeah, but don't tell anyone. If everyone knew they'd think I'm too serious and I prefer they think of me as a party animal. I'll sneak up on them in the end and, ta da, I'll be rich and a huge success. Shock the shit out of everybody, ya know?"
I'm nodding my head, then say, "Won't you need specialized schooling to do those things?" He goes, "Unfortunately yes. After a general college education at Merrimack I'll need to enroll in a place like Full Sail University."
I go, "Wow, I've heard of that university, but I forget who told me about it." Chubby says, "Well, it's like the number one or two top universities in the country for those technology areas I mentioned." I'm like, "Huh, that's slightly more ambitious than my tentative plans for the future." He grins
at me, totally interested, asking, "And what might your plans be, bro?" I shrug, "I'm kind of embarrassed to say after hearing your plans, but you already know I have a keen interest in cutting guy's hair, so maybe I'll go on to further education after Merrimack too. Not as grandiose as a university, but to a barber college. I'd need that certificate if I want to open my own barbershop." He asks, "Where would you open your barbershop?"
Shrugging, I'm like, "Well, I suppose I'd open a shop near some big college campus."
He goes, "That's not so crazy, bro, most people work at jobs they hate.
Doing something you like, and making a living too, that's pretty much the ideal situation. Avocation as your vocation, sweet!" I go, "Yeah, but there's drawbacks. I only like cutting young guys' hair, which is why I'd have a barbershop near a big college campus, the bigger the better. The trick is to have an attractive pricing policy. Nowadays I see barbershops advertising $10 haircuts for seniors. I'd advertise the opposite. Students haircut $10 and everyone else $25 and up. Something like that." He laughs, "A bit obvious, but would you get rich doing that?" I go, "I'd make enough money to suit me. I don't need to be rich."
After a few seconds Chubby says, "Yeah, but what about marrying Robby.
Doesn't he want you to work with him at his father's business?" Scratching my head, I'm frowning, admitting, "There are a few obstacles in the way of my ideal job. Dickers and Son is one of them, but the big one is Robby wanting to have two kids, and he wants me to be the stay at home dad when we have them." Chubby nods, "Yeah, you told me that before. How you going to handle that?" I say, "The same way regular married people handle it: nurseries, preschool, kindergarten, nannies, whatever the fuck." He asks, "And Rob's okay with that?" I shrug, "Not yet he's not, but he will be when the time comes. And I'm realistic too; maybe I'll never get the barbershop... I'm just not ready to give up on it yet."
After a while we go in for a swim, then take a long walk on the beach sometimes talking and sometimes not. Giving up on the beach around six, we shower and have dinner at a small restaurant we've never been to before. After an okay dinner we go back to the condo and sit on the deck drinking beers, listening to music, and talking. I get a text from Dodger around ten o'clock
asking would I meet him at his motel at two o'clock tomorrow afternoon.
Texting back I tell him Chubby and I will both see him there and we're very much looking forward to it. Dodger texts back saying `Good! And sometime tomorrow I'm going to give your ass a hard f**king'. I don't share that text with Chubby, but it makes my dick slide around happily in my shorts. Chubby says, "What do you want to bet that Vinnie's with Dodger and his friend?"
I tell him, "Considering Dodger's bringing an Army friend with him; I'd say it's fifty/fifty that Vinnie will also be with him." I forget if Chubby knows Dodger's gay. I don't think he does. If Dodger's Army 'friend' is gay it'll be problematic having Vinnie there too. Chubby says, "Vinnie will be there. He means a lot to Dodger and Dodger wouldn't hurt Vinnie's feeling by not including him." Oh, so maybe he does know they're both gay.
Whatever, we're in bed my midnight and then, just like that, it's a sunny Wednesday morning. Chubby and I are up early, out on the deck with coffees.
The first thing I said to Chubby when I woke him was, "Happy twenty-first birthday, Chub!" and we hugged. Yeah, and he had the biggest smile as he mumbled, "Finally I can get drunk in a bar with my big brother." I love seeing his animated happy face. I say, "Yes, we can both start the long road to AA meetings together." He goes, "Not happening, bro, we're both blessed with
incredible will power, plus we're true to our motto of moderation in all things." I go, "Most things, might be more accurate, Chub."
It's a beautiful hot day with low humidity, and low humidity is rare for the shore. The moms sleep in and we don't expect to see then until the middle of the afternoon. They didn't get back from Atlantic City until the wee hours of the morning. I'm kinda interested in hearing about their trip, and if they actually won money gambling. Of course I hope they did although the odds of that are not in their favor. Skipping breakfast, Chubby and I get the beach stuff out of the Volvo and take it with us to the beach. It's a little after nine when we're setting up the chairs and umbrella for whenever the moms make it down here. Ellie, Jessica, and Charlie show up around ten-thirty, everyone remembers it's Chubby's birthday and acknowledges it's the big one. A milestone birthday according to Jesse, who looks really cute today with another variation of her ponytail hairdos. Very girlish. Today is also the first of two Ronny Tarleckie-free days, which makes Charlie happy and me too.
Jesse tells us that yesterday they all went to visit friends in Ocean City. Charlie goes, "Boring day sitting around all morning. In the afternoon the beach over there was really nice though. Of course we had to buy beach tags for the day. Rip-off city!" The three of them go on to tell Chubby and me about Ocean City and how it compares with Wildwood. The boardwalk over there is maybe a third the size of Wildwood's, but they feel the beaches are nicer.
Later everyone's busy. Chubby's talking with Ellie, Jesse's on her cellphone, so it's just Charlie and me who go in for a swim. He's into rubbing against my body and asking, "When can we do it again, Dylan?" I kid him, saying, "You've gotta do Ronny Tarleckie first, don't you?" He goes, "Not now!
That's for some Labor Day when I'm zonked on pot and I've gulped down a six pack of beer along with a number of shots of vodka. Don't you remember?" I go, "Vaguely," and he splashes water in my face, saying, "It was you who brokered the arrangement between Tarleckie and me." I go, "Brokered? Where'd you come up with that word?" He says, "I know some words, but I use them sparingly." I take this opportunity to dunk him under and he comes up spitting out salt water, complaining, "I swallowed a mouthful of this dirty ocean water." Swimming away from him to avoid retaliation, I say, "I've got a really good friend coming in this afternoon, Charlie, so I don't think I'll be able to get free to 'do it', as you put it." He goes, "That sucks for me!" I say, "Don't pout! We've got three more days, and there's no way I'm not 'doing it' with you few more times." He shrugs, "Only a few more times?"
and he swims over to me fast and tries dunking me. His wet slippery body feels good as we wrestle in the ocean getting salt water in our eyes.
Walking back to shore, he says, "I'll bet you'll chicken-out on an idea I have." I mumble, "Probably, what's the idea?" He does an elaborate shrug, saying, "Okay, you and me, right this minute walk up the beach to our alcove and do it there in broad daylight." I say, "You've discovered my secret!
I'm too much of a chicken to do sex out in the open in broad daylight." He's like, "At least walk up there with me. I wanna see if my condom's still lying where I threw it." I call his bluff, "Let's go," and we start walking way up the beach toward the end of the boardwalk with Charlie making weird sounds, "Buuuook, buook, buook." I ask, "What the fuck is that supposed to be?" He says, "That's the sounds a chicken makes." I go, "Not the chickens I buy at Stop & Shop." Actually I don't believe I've ever seen a live chicken, never mind heard one make their sound.
We're past the boardwalk when Charlie asks, "Hey, Dylan, when you going to give me that haircut?" I go, "Another one?" He ignores that, saying, "You also need to help me decide what kind of haircut to get." I tell him, "Yeah, I will, Charlie, but not now." He goes, "Oh my God, look at that kid in the pink bathing suit." I look over then mumble, "It's not pink, it's salmon,
and what about him?" He asks, "Don't you think he's hot?" I mutter, "No, and he's too young anyway. Too young even for you," and he goes, "You're barely a year older than me, whaddaya talking about." I rub the back of my fingers on his chin, "You need to shave, little buddy." He goes, "How come you're always clean shaven? Isn't it a pain in the ass shaving every day?"
Sidestepping that, I'm like, "Is it impossible for you walk fifty feet without talking or asking me a question?" He goes, "If I want to I can." Then, grinning, he tries pulling my bathing suit down. We wrestle a little with the sides of our faces rubbing together, and just like that we kiss on the beach. We both look surprised, then start walking again with me muttering, "Stop trying to pull my cool bathing suit down." He goes, "It is pretty cool swim suit, is it new?" I say, "That's another question from you and we've only gone ten feet. Try walking fifty silent feet."
Walking in silence for a minute, then he says, "I dreamed about you last night," and I go, "What was I doing?" He says, "Whaddaya think we were doing? I made a mess on the sheets too. If you and I lived closer we'd be lovers, not just sex buddies." I have nothing to say to that. At the alcove Charlie's condom lays in the sand exactly where he threw it. We look at it, then at each other as he pulls a condom packet from that tiny little pocket behind the waistband of his swim suits. What are we suppose to put in there anyway? Two quarters, or I suppose a condom packet which fits perfectly.
Quickly looking around, but there's no one on this part of the beach to see.
Too many broken shells and stones, and sand grass. He says, "Let's do it."
This kid got more balls than a Christmas tree. In the alcove I try jumping up to see if anyone is on the sidewalk above us, but can't jump high enough to see the street. He goes, "Nobody can see us when we're at the back of this fucking alcove."
I'm smelling the back of my hand, crazily considering doing it when Charlie pulls his swim suit down to his knees and strokes his cock, saying, "C'mon, Dylan, we'll make it fast," as he hands me the condom. Now it's not if we're going to fuck, but rather who's the top. I say, "Put that condom on your pecker and I'll do it with you." He puts the packet between his teeth and reaches over and pulls my bathing suit down below my butt cheeks, them gets both hands behind my neck pulling my head down, saying around the condom packet, "You win." I take his cock in my fingers and suck it. It tastes like the ocean for a few seconds and then it taste like a penis should.
There's usually a hint of urine, but after that I haven't the words to describe the taste further. Jeez, this is strangely exciting and I like that Charlie sort of forced me into it. As I suck on his nice looking dick mine firms up too, so when I straighten up my cock is fairly firm, and his is hard. Not as hard as it'll get, but plenty hard enough to fuck with.
Charlie seems nervous now, and I'm catching his nervousness, as he whispers, "Turn around and I'll get us off fast." I turn around and right away feel the nipple at the end of the condom; it's sticky with lubricant. Then the head of his cock hits my asshole. Charlie gets his left arm around the front of my throat pulling my head back. He mostly imitates what I do during sex, which makes sense since he only fucked once before meeting me. Then the exception to doing everything my way, Charlie again uses his unorthodox method of constant pressure in lieu of a hump of his hips. The head of his cock stretches my anus slowly and painfully at first, but by continuing to apply forward pressure the fat head finally makes it past my sphincter muscle.
Then, instead of hesitating a couple of seconds to enjoy the feeling of popping his boner's head inside my rectum, which would be a nice for both of us, he keeps steadily pushing his hard cock, that's getting harder a fatter by the second, all the way up my ass. When it's all the way in he does the hard hump and I go, "Aaaah, ooh." He starts moving his hips now making the
sounds of males fucking and for the first minute it's not a lot of fun for
me. I agree with him about the sense of urgency though, so I don't complain, just grit my teeth.
He really gets into it, "Slap,slap,slap,slap," tightening his hold around my neck and pulling my head back like I did with him. He's leaning back and I'm up on my toes as he steadily drives his hard cock back and forth in my rectum. The sensation inside my ass turn from pain to ecstasy seemingly from one drive up my ass to the next, and now I'm doing quiet moans of sexual pleasure trying to thrust back into his humps up my ass. My thrusting back gets him out of whack and his cock pulls out. There's a mutter, "Fuck,"
from Charlie and some fumbling around and then we both go, "Ooooh, ummm," as he slides his boner back up inside me, and it's, "Slap,slap,slap,slap," with neither of us giving a shit by now if people walk down the beach and watch us. It feels so good we're both making whining moan and groans with the side of Charlie's face against the side of mine as he hugs around my throat so tightly I can barely breath.
It's a four minute fuck and then his crotch is tightly against my buttocks humping against me and moaning, then licking the side of my face. My climax roars up on me with little advance notice and I go, "Aaaaeee," humping and struggling in Charlie grasp with my orgasm shooting out in a tight steam of cum making a wet streak in the sand in front of the alcove. Charlie's still humping against my butt cheeks, biting my ear as my hips hump and two more streaks of cum shoot out of my quivering boner, the head throbbing. We both stop struggling and breathe deeply. The buzzing all around my groin makes me shudder against Charlie's body, then I feel weak, but really good. He loosens his hold around my throat, gasps and breaths deeply.
Letting go of me entirely now, he steps back pulling his cock from my ass, and says, "Jesus, that was so good! Oh shit that felt good!" I go, "Shhh, for chrissake. Keep it down." My ass is sticky with the lubricant from the condom, but he's so right, that did feel awesomely good and my body does another little shudder thinking about it. Damn, that was a good climax. I pull
up my swim suit and press the material in back, wiping some of the lube off my asshole. Charlie tosses the condom on the ground near his other one, muttering, "That was like a religious experience." I go, "What the fuck? A religious experience? This was as far from a religious experience as you can get." He pulls his swim suit up, "What? You didn't think that was a special climax?" We walk out of the alcove without even looking around. I'm like, "Well yeah, it was an explosive climax, but a religious experience? We'll have to agree to disagree on that." He grumbles, "You always need the last word, don'cha?" I say, "Absolutely not! But calling a fuck in broad daylight, exposed like we were, a religious experience is insane. That was not anything thing like a fucking religious experience." We walk ten feet and he mumbles, "Yes it was. You don't know your Bible."
We talk about the sex all the way back, agreeing that for some reason having sex almost out in the open like that, and in broad daylight added to the thrill of our climaxes. Now that we got away with it I'm glad to have had that experience. Wow, hot climax for sure! His parents have joined the group by the time we get back to the chairs. They're talking about their Ocean City visit too and it seems everyone but Charlie had a great time yesterday.
As we're sitting here he's looking at me way too much, and being too obvious about it, so I say, "I'm gonna walk down and get my feet wet," and naturally Charlie wants to come. As we walk I tell him, "Jesus, Charlie, don't be so obvious. You're staring at me like we're lovers. Your parents and sister don't need to see that." He goes, "We are lovers," and I go, "No, we're not! We're sex-buddies, how many times do I need to tell you that?" We get back into our habit of talking to each other tongue-in-cheek. Charlie doesn't take many things very seriously, but I finally agree that it was genius of him suggesting we fuck in the alcove.
For lunch Chubby, Ellie, Jesse, Charlie, and me are trudging through the sand towards the boardwalk, and on our way we pass the Moms, Rider, and Bud, who all look very hungover. Everyone stops and says happy birthday to Chubby with hugs and kisses, then my Mom, even though hungover, puts on her best smile and tries for an upbeat description of the wonderful time they all had in Atlantic City. I ask, Rider, "Did you win?" Bud says, "He didn't, but
I did." Tris says, "Bud won about sixty dollars playing black jack, but your mom won five hundred dollars playing the slot machines." Mom goes, "Then I lost most of it getting greedy trying for more. I think those machines are fixed." Bud wants to move on and probably nap on the beach, as he mumbles, "We'll tell you guys about it tonight at dinner, and Jeff you have a present waiting for you at the house." Chubby goes, "Oh my God, you guys didn't have to do that! Is it the same as Dylan's?" They try laughing but it probably makes their headaches surge. Tris says, "There's one from Dee and me too, sweetheart." Chubby goes, "Seriously, thank you all, and to think Dylan felt you guys probably spent all your money on him, beings he's your favorite." None of the four have time for Chubby's antics. Bud says again, "Your birthday dinner, we'll discuss it all," and they move on. Hell, Chubby and I know how they feel with bad hangovers because we've been there and done that hangover thing ourselves, and a lot of talking is not part of the cure.
We have cheeseburgers for a change from Mac's Pizza, and while eating I explain to Charlie, Jesse, and Ellie how the friend we're meeting is my boyfriend's brother. Charlie frowns when I mention my boyfriend. The girls ask some personal questions, so I manage to steer the discussion away from Robby's brother to why Charlie was bored in Ocean City. Then, back on the beach after lunch, I keep checking my watch as Charlie continues doing too much staring at me, making me very uncomfortable. When he's not openly staring he's asking for the fifth time if he can hang out with Chubby, me, and the Army guys... as he puts it. I keep telling him, "We'll see, but for right now let me have a reunion with him." He goes, "Sure, but I hope you're not going to fucking ignore me the rest of the week." His father heard Charlie use the F-bomb and his head snap up and he gives Charlie a dirty look. Finally at twenty minutes of two, I say, "Chub, let's take off." The moms know we're meeting Dodger so we don't need to explain why we're leaving. Getting up I run my fingers through Charlie's long blond hair, saying, "Think about what kind of haircut you want, Charlie, and we'll do it tomorrow." He nods his head with big puppy dog eyes and I feel bad leaving him behind, but Dodger deserves Chubby's and my undivided attention for at least this afternoon.
At the condo Chub and I clean ourselves up a little, then me in the bathroom alone using toilet paper to get as much lubricant out of my asshole and around my anus as I can. We change into shorts, then take the Jeep for the fifteen minute ride to the Beachcomber Motel where Dodger and his friend are staying. We can't believe when the GPS voice says, "Turn here." Chubby turns and we see the motel down a winding driveway. We would have driven right past it except for the GPS.
I'm anxious to see Dodger of course, but I'm also wondering how much of the 'original' Dodger remains after almost sixteen months in the Army. Robby emailed me Monday saying he and his parents picked the boys up at the airport this past Sunday afternoon. Robby however didn't provide me with much detail, just that Dodger's seems fine and his friend seems like a pretty regular guy, except he talks funny. Whatever that means. I didn't quiz Robby for
details because it's a testy situation with Robby thinking Dodger's interested in me as more than a friend. I've never noticed that myself especially, except for Dodger kidding that he's going to be the one who marries me, not Robby. It's just Dodger's braggadocio self. He's never lacked confidence about anything. He's texted me only two times since getting home, not being real conscientious about replying to text messages, mine or anyone else's.
We're at the motel around two-fifteen in the afternoon, parking in the first open spot nearest the office. No sign of Dodger so I go inside to asks if the guys checked in already. A smiling, pleasant man taps on his computer and tells me they haven't checked in. The motel appears to have been around since the fifties, but it's had a recent renovation and isn't that bad looking. Better than I expected considering the relatively low nightly rate.
Chubby and I lean against the Jeep sharing a cigarette. He says, "Dodger's never been a slave to punctuality," and I'm like, "Yeah, but in the Army I assumed he'd have to be a lot better with that, and thought it would have rubbed off on him by now." Finished the cigarette I flick it towards the street but it goes straight up in the air and I mutter, "Oops,' and watch it comes down just missing Chubby's head. He gives me a 'look' and I go, "It slipped!" It's hot in the sun but I don't see any shade as I'm glancing around, then I see a pickup that I'm sure is Dodger's. It's Robby's latest hand-me-down pickup. Oh man, Robby and I fucked in that truck about a thousand times. It stops at a red light a block away. Bumping Chubby's arm with the back of my hand, I go, "There they are at the red light."
We watch the pickup drive right past the motel and Chubby grins, muttering, "Feebs." Chuckling, I walk up the motel's driveway to the sidewalk next to the road waving my arms, then watch the pickup do an illegal U-turn and come back this way, and pass right by us again. Chubby yells, "Are they all blind?" and we start laughing. Walking back to Chubby, I tell him, "I couldn't tell if there were two or three guys in the front seat, but it was definitely Dodger behind the wheel." This motel is set back from the street and it's sign isn't all that obvious from the road. As I said, we thought we were making a wrong turn when we turned into the entrance. Chubby goes, "Here they come again," and we both start laughing, imagining the fury of Dodger by now. Then they're again waiting at the same red light I first saw them at. The whole thing strikes Chubby and me as so fucking funny we're holding onto each other laughing our nuts off. Dodger's driving very slowly now with cars behind him honking horns at them. Dodger casually sticks his arm out the window giving everyone behind him the finger.
Then he's pointing at us. He cuts in front of the car on his right causing more horn blowing as he drives right by the almost blind entrance, and with cars right behind him he has to keep going. Chubby laughs and sputters, "He doesn't see the entrance sign." I can't stop laughing and it's making me sweat, but fuck, I can just imagine how frustrated Dodger is. The cursing going on in that pickup must have turned the air blue by now. I don't see them at all for a minute, as I'm gasping now that our laughing's winding down, and then Dodger comes from the other direction and drives the wrong way up the exit-only lane, over a curb, just missing the 'one-way' sign and he stops with tires squealing right next to our Jeep.
He sticks his cute head out the window, "Do either of you hayseeds know how to get to the Beach Comber Motel?" Chubby goes, "Um yaaa, but ya can't get there from here." Dodger laughs and gets out to give Chubby a hug; then he opens his arms, shouting, "Dylan!" and we hug with him giving my cheek a sloppy wet kiss. Getting out of the passenger door is a very thin, tall kid with whitish-blond hair. Behind him is Vinnie who's frowning and acting awkward, like he normally does. He's a brainiac, but acts like a dufus most of the time, claiming he's not wasting his intelligence on the likes of us.
I've become very fond of him. He's chewing gum looking at me until I finally say, "Vinnie, give me a fuckin' hug!" His frown deepens as he hesitantly walks towards me glancing at Dodger, who says, "Jesus Christ, Vinnie, it's Dylan, ya nut!" I lean down a bit and Vinnie gives me a good hug and a sloppy wet kiss on my cheek at the same spot Dodger did his kiss. Vinnie mumbles, "I meant to call you for a haircut, Dylan, but I never got around to it."
I go, "That's understandable, Vinnie, it's only been nine months, and shit happens." He nods his head, "Yeah, it does."
Dodger's holding his hand out toward the tall guy, saying, "Meet my number-two best Army bud, and my favorite North Dakota farm boy of all time, Norman Love." He points his finger at Chubby, saying, "Norman, say hello to a local hot-shit, Jeffrey Romero, and his older brother, the coolest dude ever,
Dylan Newman." Norman does formal handshakes with both of us, as I'm saying, "Nice to meet ya, how's it going?" He uses an accent I recognize from that old movie, Fargo, saying, "Not so bad," in sort of a sing-song voice.
Dodger says, "Norman will say 'not so bad' to any question you ask him. His family's farm could have ten feet of snow in zero degree temperature with forty mile an hour winds and if you ask him, 'How's the weather?' he'll say, 'Not so bad'." Norman grins, giving Dodger the finger.
Norman's whitish-blond hair is cut like Dodger's brown hair: very short on the sides and back, then much too long on top combed straight back. It looks stupid but I don't mention it. Vinnie's dark brown hair is in a stubby ponytail, which isn't surprising considering he hasn't had a haircut since the last one I gave him over nine months ago. There's no question who's in charge of the three. Dodger says to Norman, "Check us in, Normie, and don't take any shit from anybody in there. We're paid-up in advance." Norman nods his head, then Dodger adds, "You go with him, Vinnie, in case the guy at the desk uses any big words." They both head for the office as Dodger says, "It's fucking surreal seeing you guys. Five days ago I was on an Army base in Texas and now I'm with the brothers from different mothers." Then he says to me, "What's that fuzzy haircut you got on your head called?" I shrug, "It's a growing-out, um, sort of an unusual buzz cut. What's your's called?"
He goes, "It's called a Milton's five dollar special, cut by Derek Milton.
He's an E5 on the base. He gives cheap haircuts, but he cuts it the way he wants and he doesn't take any shit about it. Everybody in his unit gets the same haircut." I mumble, "Milton blows as a barber," and Dodgers says, "Roger that, but he's my boss." Dodger's the only guy I know besides myself who has a haircut fetish, and I've jokingly told him a number of times that I caught the fetish from him.
Norman and Vinnie come out of the office with the key to room 106. I go, "Hey, that's right behind us," so Vinnie opens the door and we all go in to look around. It's a small room with an ancient noisy window air conditioner,
two double beds, an old upholstered chair, and a furniture unit with a TV on it. Under the TV are a couple of drawers in the unit for clothes.
Vinnie says, "Nice room," and Norman goes, "You betcha." Dodger says, "Actually the room blows, but we're not gonna be in this dump except to crash." I look in the bathroom. It's small and the recent renovation apparently was mainly for the outside of the motel. Very dated bathroom fixtures and a brown stain around the sink's drain.
Outside again, Dodger, who's nineteen now, is regaling us with tales of the unfortunate incidences they experienced driving from Framingham to here, including a flat tire, which explains their late arrival. He makes it all sound funny now that it's after the fact. He's almost a twin of Robby. Same basic body-size, and except for brown hair and eyes he looks very much like his brother. His body's filled out a little, but he's still slim and about an inch taller than Robby and me. Dodger still has that boyish cute grin with dimples, and like his brother, his teeth are sparkling white. The too-big t-shirt he's wearing is drab green with the word ARMY in black letters on the front. His arms have nice bicep definition and just visible below his short sleeve is a modest tattoo about an inch and a half square. It's the logo 'US ARMY' and under that in smaller letter, 'relentless'. Both in blue. His cargo shorts are baggy and hanging below his knees, plus he's wearing untied high-top sneakers without socks. I see a tiny earring hole in his left earlobe, but he's not wearing an earring now. Dodger looks as awesome as ever except for the silly mop of hair on top of his head. Maybe it's an intentional style statement, or maybe like he inferred it's simply the unfortunate result of an inferior barber. Ya can't beat $5 for a haircut though, unless I'm the barber in which case you can keep the five dollars in your pocket.
Vinnie doesn't have any tattoos I can see, but Norman has a duplicate of Dodger's on the same arm as Dodger. I wonder if Connor does too. There's a silver stud earring in Vinnie's left ear. His dark brown hair is in the stubby ponytail I mentioned, and again I could kick myself in the ass for not bringing my barber stuff with me to Wildwood. Vinnie hasn't grown, he's still five-feet, six-inches tall, and when we come out of the room we're coincidentally standing here in the order of our heights. Vinnie's on the end, Chubby's next to him an inch taller, I'm five-feet, ten-inches tall standing next to Dodger who's an inch taller than me, and finally Norman who's at least three inches taller than Dodger.
I step in front of the others and light a cigarette so I can get a better look at Vinnie. He's pretty much the same as the last time I saw him. Same swarthy complexion with big shiny dark eyes and longish curved eyelashes that a girl would die for. Vinnie has those hot sex lips too, and one of those
round birth marks on his cheek; a small round dark spot contrasting with his smooth tan-colored skin. He looks younger then nineteen... a sexy hot Italian kid with a smallish body that's tight, and he's stronger than he has a right to be for his size. Oh yeah, the last time I saw him he had dark peach fuzz on his upper lip and chin, but he's clean-shaven now. When I see Dodger and Vinnie together I can't help thinking of the two or three times we had ourselves uber hot three-way sex-a-thons while smoking cigarettes throughout the entire hot sexy experience. So I gotta wonder if Norman's replaced me in a three-way with Dodger and Vinnie. They've had five days to work something out. Of course Norman may not even be gay.
Speaking of Norman, the first thing I noticed was his height; he's tall and very thin. Next thing I noticed was his whitish-blond hair because you don't see hair that color very often. It's cut like Dodger's and looks almost fake. Norman's not cute and not bad looking. He's what you'd call average looking with a Scandinavian touch. To go with his whitish-blond hair he has blue eyes that are a little too far apart, pink skin, and a high aquiline nose. There's also what I'd call a touch of Asian in his facial features. He has a pale normal beard that he hasn't shaved for a day or two, but it's not the trendy quarter inch beard purposely kept that length with a beard trimmer. I don't suppose that's allowed for guys on active duty in the Army.
After our initial greetings and some general bull-shitting, the guys get their stuff from the pickup and lug it into the room. The last item to be unloaded is a cooler with two six-packs of Bud beer cans on ice. We all get an ice cold can from the cooler and while drinking it walk around back to the motel's small swimming pool. All of us except Norman smoke a cigarette while deciding what we'll do next. It's after three o'clock so the beach is an obvious next step, but we're trying to decide about tonight. Chubby and I have the family birthday dinner at eight o'clock, which means the earliest we can hook-up with Dodger and his boys is most likely ten o'clock. We make plans to meet them on the boardwalk at the 40th street amusement pier.
Before we head out for the beach Dodger wants either me or Chubby to buy a case of beer and a bottle of Old Granddad bourbon for their room. It feels odd being the guy someone depends on to buy them booze.
They put on bathing suits and follow Chubby and me in our Jeep with Dodger driving his pickup. We stop at a package store a couple of blocks from our condo and I go in alone. The man behind the counter is shaking his head when I put the bottle of bourbon on the counter in front of him. He mutters, "You gotta be kidding me, right? Some kind of dare from your buddies, huh?"
I say, "I've got ID." and he's nice about it, saying, "Son, please put the bottle back where you found it and I won't call the cops. You kids don't realize you're messin' with my livelihood." I pass him my license and he does an exasperated exhale looking at it. I say, "It's real, look," and I give him my college picture ID too. He goes, "Ya got anything else?" I'm like, "What else is there?" He rubs his hand over his face, then rings up the bourbon and I pay him as he tells me, "Please, in the future take your business somewhere else. I don't believe you're twenty-one." He gives me the change and I stare at him trying to think what I should say to that. It pisses me off royally, but I don't know what to do about it.
Back outside I get in the Jeep telling Chubby about the guy wanting me to take my business someplace else. He goes, "What the fuck?!" and gets out of the Jeep, "C'mon." Oh fuck! I tell Chubby, "It's his business, Chub; he can
refuse to serve anyone if he wants." Chubby's heading insides so I follow him. He politely says, "My friend and I look young. We can't help that, but we're both twenty-one." He hands the guy his license and college ID. "This package store is a block from our house and therefore convenient. I'm going to legally buy a bottle of Vodka now, so call the cops and we can once and for all settle that we're twenty-one." He didn't say we're brothers because our different last names would further confuse the issue. The counter man, and I guess owner of the store, says, "You two are either doing a ballsy bluff here with fake ID, or maybe you are twenty-one." He's studying Chubby's license shaking his head, mumbling, "Twenty-one today no less. Jesus!"
Meanwhile I've gotten a bottle of Vodka off the shelf and put it on the counter." The man says, "Okay boys, ya better be twenty-one or you'll be spending a night in jail. As big a pain in my ass it is, I'm calling your bluff," and he taps on his cell phone.
While we're waiting for the cops, Chubby says, "Tell the boys in the pickup not to come in. We'll only be a couple of minutes more." Chubby doesn't want the cop or counter man to know we're with under aged guys. I do that and come back in; not at all sure this is worth the trouble. Other customers come and go, then a cop car pulls up. The cop comes in, saying, "What's the problem this time, Art?" Art and the cop look alike. They confer looking at our licenses and asking us what our birthday are, and what's our sign, if you can believe that shit. Finally the cop says to Art, "Why do you want to turn away business, bro? Two forms of picture ID and they even knew their fuckin' signs, ha ha. What else do you need?" The counter guy hands us our ID, rings up the Vodka and Chubby pays. As the cop leaves, he says to Art, "Get a scanner like Kenny has. These modern licenses are really hard to fake and a scanner verifies the legitimacy of any kind of ID." Art waves his hand at the cop dismissively, muttering, "Whatever Kenny gets, I'm supposed to get? Fuck that, Mike." Chubby says, "So, you know us now, right, Art?"
and the guys like, "Yeah, yeah, yeah," and we leave.
We get in the Jeep and Chubby waves that Dodger should follow. I'm like, "What the fuck? Are we going to need to go through that every time we want to buy a beer or a bottle of booze?" He goes, "Nah, not everybody's as paranoid as asshole, Art." Dodger luckily finds a parking space across from our condo. Chubby gives the bourbon to Dodger telling him we'll get the beer after some beach time. We put our swimsuits on again and the five of us head for the beach. As we're walking the two blocks I'm in back with Dodger, asking, "This Norman kid, um, is he on our team?" Dodger chuckles, "Yeah, partially, he claims to be bisexual. He might be bi for all I know, but he's never all that horny. We've screwed maybe four times in the six months we've been tight buddies." I ask, "Did he bottom or top the times you did it?" He goes, "Both, we're versatile, aren't you?" I shrug, "Of course, Dodger, but I'm in a committed relationship as you well know." He laughs, "Yeah, sure."
While walking onto the beach we all have something on our feet, the sand is probably a hundred degrees up here near the street baking in the sun all day. Luckily the sand cools off the closer we get to the ocean. Dodger says,
"Get this, Dylan. Rob asked me not to mess with your head with any talk that you and he aren't perfect for each other." I'm like, "Is that what you're going to do?" He says, "No, I'm not going to bad-mouth my bro, but I am going to fuck you a few times in the next three days." I go, "Oh, ya mean as sort of a surrogate for your brother?" He laughs, "NO! As your favorite sex-buddy. And of course we must include Vinnie once or twice." I'm like, "Oh yeah? How 'bout good ol' Norman?" Dodger goes, "That depends on him." Huh, it's been slim pickings for me so far in Wildwood, especially compared to last summer, and I'm not disparaging Charlie at all! I am saying that things will definitely heat up in the sex department with Dodger in town.
On the beach we find everyone there so lots of introductions and conversation between the Barns family and the three new arrivals, and our moms and the fiancés. When things finally settle down the five of us, plus Charlie, hit the ocean. Charlie gets me aside, asking, "When can we do it again, Dylan. You gotta admit that alcove sex was otherworldly, and I'm free of Tarleckie until Friday." I go, "Be cool, Charlie. We just did it for chrissake!"
He tries dunking me and we get tangled up and, as always, his slippery body feels nice. With both his arms around my neck, he whispers, "That Dodger kid makes me nervous." I say, "I'll try to protect you, but don't allow yourself to be in a situation where you're alone with him." He asks, "Really?"
and I go, "No, not really, Dodger's awesome."
We all do some body surfing on the rougher than normal waves left over from yesterday's storm. Dodger floats in next to me on the same wave, asking, "That cute kid, what's-his-name, has a 'thing' for you, dude. Have you gotten around to checking him out in bed yet?" I look startled, "Who, Charlie? Get real! You do know there are straight guys in the world, right?" He goes, "Yeah, and most of them are in the fucking Army as far as I can tell."
We've all had enough of the ocean for now, so everyone goes back up the beach and either sits in chairs or lies on the beach using towels the guys brought along from their room. The sign in their room saying, "Absolutely no room
towels on the beach' carrying no weight with these guys. Norman says in his odd accent, "This is the first time in my life I've been in an ocean." I go, "Huh. Hey, ya know, we should all put sun screen on, especially you, Norman, you're very pale." Dodger says, "Yeah, that's an excellent idea," and he asks, "Ya got any, Dylan?" I give Norman my bottle of SunBum sunscreen lotion, saying, "It's SPF 30 and water resistant." Norman says, "Okiedokie then."
The three of them use up the rest of the bottle helping each other reach the hard places. I glance at the laps of their swimsuits as they do it. None of them spring a boner as far as I can tell. I've seen Vinnie's big cock and Dodger's not so big one, and now I'm wondering if Norman's long feet and long fingers, plus his tall lean body are indicative of a long slim penis.
Makes me think of Bean's long thin penis, but I'm betting Norman's puts Bean's to shame. Or maybe not... ya just never know what a guy's got in his shorts.
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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