Dylan's Vacation Back Home

DYLAN'S VACATION BACK HOME

Chapter 29

by Donny Mumford

After dinner Charlie and I are going for one last walk on the beach. At the bottom of the steps he comes up with the crazy idea of staying out all night to watch the sun come up Saturday morning. He says he'd rather do that than have nightmares about that sicko photographer, Lee. Staying up all night is nuts of course, but he did have that horrible experience this afternoon and I want to help him get over it, so I tell him, "Okay, but we'll need to stock up on some beers and maybe some whiskey." He asks, "How much have you had to drink today?" I'm like, "In the last four hours I've had a total of four beers, a couple of which I didn't even finish. And oh yeah, that shot of tequila with you and your cousins." He says, "Yeah, well I read that a twelve-ounce beer has about the same alcohol content as a one-and-a-half-ounce shot of whiskey, and supposedly the liver metabolizes an ounce of alcohol an hour, so you should be sober." I nod, "Based on what you just said, someone could take a shot of whiskey every hour and a half throughout the day and they'd basically be sober all day. That sounds like a pipe dream some alcoholic might have." Charlie goes, "I don't know, I read it online!" Ha, it must be true then!

On the sidewalk in front of his condo I tell Charlie, "We'll go to my place for the beer. We just made a smooth exit from the party so we'd be pushing our luck trying for a second smooth exit." He says, "Definitely, I could get hassled by my parents, or Ronny could latch onto us, or who knows what." We go to my condo and get a six pack of Coors cans from the refrigerator that Charlie's carrying as we walk the two blocks to the beach. Before stepping onto the beach we take our sandals off and leave them under a bus-stop bench. I mumble, "It's a pain in the ass carrying those things, plus it's highly unlikely anyone will walk off with them." Walking barefoot onto the beach we talk about the drunkest experience we've ever had. Charlie's was the night he graduated high school when he threw-up twice and slept on his friend's bathroom floor for three hours. He was drinking vodka and orange juice that night. Commiserating with him, I go, "Yeah, vodka does tend to sneak up on you when you drink it with something like OJ and ya can't taste the vodka." I can't remember what my drunkest experience was so I tell him about Chubby and me in Wildwood two summers ago. It's almost true too except it was Chubby's drunkest experience rather than mine.

I tell him, "Well one thing's for sure, Charlie." He mutters, "What's that," and I'm like, "There's no way tonight is going to qualify as a drunkest experience for either of us; not with us sharing a six pack." He says, "I don't want to get drunk anyway. It's my last night with you and I want to remember every minute of it." I glance at him, finding it hard to believe he's serious about that, although he seems to be. I don't know how to respond, but I manage to say, "Um, that's nice of you to say, Charlie, but it's a bit of an awkward statement, don'cha think?" He says, "No, I didn't feel awkward." Well, I meant awkward for me, but I leave it at that.

Walking on the beach I make light of his silly all-night idea, asking, "What do you have in mind for our night on the beach, Charlie? A midnight swim

perhaps, or a deep philosophical discussion about the meaning of life; something like that?" He snorts a laugh, then says, "No, not really, although we can do both if you want. I just want to be with you." I go, "Oh, like that Hootie and the Blowfish song?" He chuckles, "Yeah, something like that."

Then we walk awhile without talking, which he seems perfectly comfortable with, but I'm not. I say, "Let me have one of those beers." He wrestles a can out of its plastic loop and passes it to me, asking, "Have you ever wondered what it would be like having sex with a girl? Maybe with one of my twin cousins?" I go, "No, I can't say that I have. How about you?" He says, "I've thought about it, yeah. Not with Hope or Faith though because they're relatives. They're not your relatives though so I wondered if you thought about doing it with them." I chug some beer, then say, "I'm gay, Charlie, and therefore I do not think of girls in that way." He asks, "Did ya ever wonder why your gay?" I go, "However I got to be gay, whether I was born like this, which I believe, or whether it's because of an accumulations of experiences and a decision on my part, like some so-called experts on the topic claim is true, the result's the same: I'm gay for certain guys, but having sex with a female doesn't interest me one bit. No more than a committed straight person wants to have sex with someone of their sex."

He thinks about that, then looks at me, saying, "You're sounding very text book, Dylan. I simply meant don't you ever wonder what it'd feel like?" I mutter, "Nope," and he says, "I wonder, although I don't think I could pull it off. I'd need a boner and I'm not sure I could get one with a girl." I go, "If she was interested, she could get a boner on you by sucking your dick or stroking it." He snorts out one of his barking laughs, saying, "That doesn't sound appealing to me, so I guess I'm exclusive gay like you, and for all the double-talk reasons you said a minute ago." I'm like, "It's not double talk. Anyway, when did you realize you were gay? Was it a traumatic revelation?" He shrugs, "Well, I never went through angst like, 'Oh no! I don't want to be gay!' Nothing like that. It was a slow process of recognizing I wasn't feeling what my friends were feeling about girls. And then sometime during my high school years I realized I was thinking of myself as gay.

Heh heh, there wasn't any other plausible explanation for how I felt about Jerry Hightower other than I was sexually attracted to him. I felt inklings of attractions to a few guys as I was going through middle school, but I was in lust for Jerry, so I made the obvious conclusion."

Finishing my beer, then littering the beach with the empty can, I light a cigarette, asking, "Did Jerry Hightower know how you felt?" Charlie makes a face, "Are you fuckin' kidding me? Of course he didn't know. I didn't tell anyone I was gay until almost the end of my senior year, and then I told Martin. He refused to believe it at first." I ask, "Does he believe it now?"

Charlie chuckles, "Oh yeah. That summer, as a show of support, he offered to let me suck his cock... ha ha. When I said okay I would, he chickened out, but we're still best friends." I go, "Obviously your parents know. So when did you tell them?" He shrugs, "Some time that same summer, but I think they knew before I told them. I never dated, although I had friends that were girls, just not girlfriends. I went to my junior and senior proms with the same girl though. We were friends from like third grade. She never said it out loud but I think she knew I was gay too because she never suggested we do anything, um, sexy or whatever."

I tell Charlie, "I've heard a number of stories of when a gay guy knew, and most are a lot like yours." He goes, "How about your story?" I go, "Ha!

Mine is too weird; it's nothing like a normal drawn-out gay awakening.

First of all, I never felt I was gay; not for seventeen years anyway." He's like, "That's hard to believe!" I nod my head, "I know it is, but I think the relationship I had with Chubby confused the issue for me. We've always been very, very tight. We did everything together until the summer after our junior year when we got jobs. I loved him and we were innocently intimate, which probably satisfied my subconscious gay desires somewhat." He frowns, "How intimate were you two?" I say, "Nothing we ever did together was done with either of us feeling we were homosexual. We rationalized our actions as being acceptable for the closest best friends the world has ever seen; so we were entitled to do what we felt like doing. Ha ha, I know how silly that sounds, but that's the way we felt. It was when we were younger though, much younger for the most part." He says, "I saw you guys do a quick kiss one morning." I shrug, "It's just a brotherly kiss, not sexual in any way.

Many societies think nothing of men kissing, the same way in America where we think nothing of women kissing each other, which they do all the time."

After a minute or so, he asks, "Well, when you did eventually realize you were gay for real, what was that like?" I go, "It was weird, like I said.

It happened during the last semester of my junior year. I was on the school newspaper and the editor was this senior guy, Carl Denton, who liked me a little bit too much. Fat Carl, I called him behind his back. His interest in me developed into inappropriate touching at first. Pinching my ass or putting his arm across my shoulder and leaning against me when critiquing something I wrote for the paper; stuff like that. He basically was bullying me while at the same time testing what I'd let him get away with. Then, one afternoon he insisted I come to his house to work with him on a project for the paper. In his bedroom he came on to me in a dominant manner and without much prodding I was soon doing what he wanted. He'd kiss me, then with a little more prodding he got me to suck his cock, then he fucked me and it was like, 'BOOM!' I knew I was gay. A startling revelation, just like that.

Carl knew I was gay before I did, so he wasn't surprised I was easy. Not at all surprised, and he took full advantage of my naiveté and dominated the shit out of me."

Charlie's staring at me with this look of astonishment on his face, asking, "You went to his house that first time without a clue you were gay?" I nod, "Yeah, and then when I left his house I knew I was." He mutters, "Really?" I go, "I'm well aware it's almost impossible to believe, but it's true.

I was incredibly clueless about sex at the time. Sure, I probably had subconscious sexual desires that exploded when Carl unlocked my unconscious secret. Within a month I thought I loved fat Carl, although in hindsight I know it was the sex I was in love with, not him. I still cringe thinking about it." Charlie yells, "Ahh, I get it now!" I'm like, "You get what?" He's acting annoyed, "This bull shit story of your's is all about you making a point, right? You told me earlier that me claiming I'm in love with you is actually me being in love with the sex, not you." I go, "I honest to God wasn't thinking about that when I told you what happened to me, and it isn't a bull shit story: it's factually accurate. It's exactly what happened, but yeah it does have some similarities to you and me. Actually just the part about you confusing having sex with being in love. No real harm in that though." He says, "Having sex with you is awesome and I guess that's part of it, sure, but it's not all of it. Call it puppy love if you want, but I love everything about you. You're so good looking and sexy I could cream in my jeans just looking at you. Plus, you help me with everything and you can cut hair and, um, you smell good too, plus you're really nice to me. That's the best part; how nice you are." I ask, "Did you smoke a joint when I wasn't looking?" He goes, "Don't make fun of me. I mean all those things I said and more."

We walk for a minute, then I say, "Well, thank you for saying those nice things, Charlie. I'm not all those things, but thank you just the same." He smirks, bumping against my side, "Maybe I exaggerated a little. You're not always nice. You yelled at me once." I have to chuckle, then say, "Actually, except for being able to cut hair, you're all those things yourself, Charlie." He goes, "I know that! I was worried you weren't going to return the compliments. It's like you left me hanging out there for a minute." He opens a can of beer and hands it to me, asking, "What else happened with you and the fat guy, what's-his-name?" Chuckling, I go, "It gets a lot more embarrassing for me the deeper into that situation I go, so I'd rather not say."

We're at the upside-down rowboat by now, so we both sit on it and drink some beer. Charlie goes, "C'mon, Dylan, tell me the embarrassing parts so I won't feel like the only guy who does embarrassing things." I rub my face, mumbling, "Oooh, fuck... I don't know. Okay, I totally acted like a pathetic dweeb with fat Carl." Huh, ya know, I just had a thought: considering what happened to Charlie earlier today maybe it'll be therapeutic for him to hear my whole story of humiliation. I tell him, "Well, first of all Carl was not attractive; far from it. Not at the time anyway, although a few years later he lost weight and his face cleared up and he was kinda hot, except for being a major egomaniacal prick of a mean bastard!" Charlie goes, "Yeah, yeah, but let me hear the embarrassing stuff." I laugh, but it's really hard admitting to some of the things I did.

He goes, "C'mon, fez-up!" Shrugging, I go, "I became, um, humiliatingly submissive to Carl, especially after he faked losing interest in me. Once he got me started on gay sex, he liked making me beg him to have sex with me.

When I'd ask him if I could come over to his house he'd tell me to get lost." Charlie goes, "That's it? That's this big embarrassing confession?" I do another uncomfortable chuckle, "Not really. The truth is, he'd been having his way with me whenever and wherever he felt like it for quite a number of weeks before he went into the fake routine of being bored with me. That was just one more way of showing me he was dominant over me. He'd call me insulting and degrading names and I'd still grovel and humiliate myself asking him to do it with me, then he'd maybe let me lick his nuts or something before fucking me all over his bedroom. He was the only gay guy I knew at the time, and by then I needed the sex. Like an addict needs his drugs. Once he turned-on my gay sex drive it went pretty much out of control. I'd call him every day after school, that is until he stopped taking my calls. Then I'd walk like forty-five minutes to his house and knock on his door nagging him to fuck me, or offering to suck his cock, or whatever he wanted. It went like that for a couple of weeks. He had me where he wanted me and dominated me so badly the submissiveness kinda stuck with me even after I was over him."

Charlie says, "I like being the submissive 'bottom' too, but not to the degree you took it with that guy. How could you let it go on so long?" I tell him the truth, "I was stupid! I actually believed that's the way I was suppose to act as an inexperienced gay kid with an older experienced sex partner. Carl told me right from the start that's how I should act with him, He called himself my sex mentor or some such shit like that. Later he called himself my 'master'." Charlie goes, "Okay, you walked to his house because he wouldn't take your calls. How often would he agree to have sex with you when you got there?" I go, "Like I told you, only sometimes. The other times I'd have to walk forty-five minutes back home with my tail between my legs, playing pocket ball with myself. At home I'd jerk off pretending Carl was fucking me. He was also having sex with his cousin, so if he'd just done it with his cousin he'd kick me in the ass and tell me to stop stalking him. Other times he'd make me run errands for him, then I'd beg for sex and, oh man, like I said, he'd fuck me three or four times really hard and I'd walk home bowlegged with his cum soaking through the back of my pants and running down the back of my legs. All the way home I'd curse myself for letting him treat me like that. I'd be disgusted with myself and then a few days later I'd tell myself... just one last time. Finally, I weaned myself of him.

Mostly because summer vacation happened and I'd met another gay guy my age and we became boyfriends."

Squinting his eyes, like he doesn't know whether to believe me or not, he finally says, "Wow, that is an embarrassing and humiliating tale. Holy shit! But it did have a happy ending with you finding a boyfriend when you were

only seventeen. You're my first boyfriend and I'm twenty years old." He's grinning at me and poking my side with his finger, muttering, "Aren't you going to say we're not boyfriends?" I say, "Well, we're not," and playfully push him off the rowboat. He yells, "Hey! I've got welts on my ass. Don't push me on my ass or I'll tell people about you and fat Kyle." I mutter, "Fat Carl, not Kyle." He gets up and sits next to me again, muttering, "I spilled some of my beer too." I take his can and drink some, then ask him, "So you're claiming that nothing in your life was as embarrassing as my story.

Nothing humiliating ever happen to you, huh? Is that what you're saying?"

He shrugs, "Nothing remotely approaching your level of humiliation, no." I mess his hair, telling him, "Hey, I was only a naive seventeen-year- old, fer chrissakes." He goes, "I was seventeen once myself, but I never stooped that low," then he laughs, bumping into my side again and putting his arm around the back of my neck, whispering in my ear, "I'll never tell anyone your embarrassing story, Dylan, I promise. No one you know anyway." I say, "Charles, my favorite Wildwood sex-buddy, are you saying you can't think of anything embarrassing or humiliating that's ever happened to you." Oh my God, a dark red blush starts at his neck and goes up to his forehead. He yells, "Oh, thanks a lot for bringing that up! I mercifully wasn't thinking about that for a couple of minutes. Yeah, you know my embarrassing and humiliating experience with Lee, the sick fuckin' pervert. I meant, other than that, nothing humiliating ever happened to me. I was blocking that from my mind. And anyway I've just been kidding around with you. No need to get mean about it." I mumble, "Sorry, Charlie, but I wasn't being mean. Hell, my story, when you think about it, is much more embarrassing than yours. You were sort of kidnapped and tied up. I was an anxious willing participant." He nods his head, then says, "You made that story up so I wouldn't feel so bad, didn't you?"

I wish! Shaking my head, I'm like, "Nope, it really happened like that, but I'm so over it now it's not even funny! If I wasn't totally over it, I wouldn't be willing to share the lowest moment of my life with you." He drinks some beer thinking about whatever, then he says, "See, that's how nice you are. Telling me your most embarrassing time so I won't feel so bad about mine. Now I know I'm not the only dip-shit who's experienced humiliation in

life." I go, "You and me are not the only ones who've had humiliation happen to us, not by a long shot. Lots of people have bad experiences. So I'm just telling you, from my first-hand experience, that you'll get over it and move on. It'll takes some time but it helps that we did some payback to the sicko who messed with you." Charlie's eyes open wide as he sputters, "He has my cell phone number!" I go, "Yeah, we talked about that, Charlie. The last thing he wants to do is bring attention to cell phones. Can you imagine what's on his?" Charlie takes his cellphone out and deletes Lee's number.

Then he says, "Well, you're probably right; if he hasn't called by now, he

probably never will." I finish Charlie's beer, then say, "If he ever does call, don't answer. Better yet, block his number." Charlie goes, "Oh fuck, I just deleted it." Sliding off the over-turned rowboat, I say, "Well if he's stupid enough to call you, you'll see the number on caller ID, then block it. C'mon lets walk some more."

During the next hour or so we finish the six pack while walking and talking. Then we sit in a lifeguard stand smoking one of Charlie's joints. He says, "Would you tell me about that first boyfriend of your's? The one who saved you from fat Carl?" I tell him some of Willie's and my adventures. Then about the airplane ride I took with Willie going to Key West. I say, "That day was fucked-up from the start. Our seats weren't together on the plane because we missed our original flight and got the last two seats on the next

flight. Willie was near the front of the plane and I sat in the back with a brother and sister. I had the middle seat but miracles do happen and the guy asked to switch with me so he could sit in the middle next to his sister, who had the window seat obviously. She had some kind of serious phobia about flying too. Anyway this hot looking gay brother of her's held his sister's hand talking soothingly to her as the plane took off. When her medication kicked in she fell asleep, and then the guy tells me this sad story; a story he'd never told anyone else. It was about a childhood friend of his.

They were very close growing up, but around ninth or tenth grade his friend drifted off into nerd status. He wore big glasses with goofy frames, plus he had the whole nerd bit going for him with the vinyl pocket protector holding five or six different writing instruments, the cuffs of his pants were too short, white gym socks, a deep interest in Star Wars, all that goofy shit. Anyway their social status led them in different directions, different circles of friends. The thing was though, whenever the guy on the plane needed anything, like borrow some money or a ride some place, or anything, his nerdy ex-best friend was always there for him to help out. The long and the short of it is the guy on the plane got a text message from the nerd when they were both in college. His friend texted that he really needed to talk with him, but the plane guy didn't want to be bothered with it at the time. Then he discovers the kid committed suicide by hanging himself in his dorm room the next morning. The guy telling me the story was crying and holding onto me, blaming himself. His ex-best friend just wanted someone he loved to help him get by a rocky point in his life, but this guy couldn't be bothered."

Charlie says, "Jesus, the poor kid! That's horrible. Hey, do you think Ronny could be someone like that. Maybe kill himself because I avoid him?" I'm like, "Get real! The plane guy's ex-best friend offed himself leaving a note on his laptop that said, 'My best friend doesn't care, so why should I?' You and Ronny have never been friends at all, let alone best friends.

It's quite a different set of circumstances. Christ, Ronny's the one calling you 'faggot' so it's a totally different situation." Then I add, "And, every fucking story I tell you isn't some secret message about you." He asks, "Did anyone you know ever commit suicide?" Oh fuck, I'm not telling him about Willie trying to do just that... if he actually did try it for real. I say, "No, but obviously anyone committing suicide has more problems than his old friend not immediately returning a text message. The guy on the plane had a mighty big guilt complex though. You know, like The Frey song, 'How to Save a Life'." Charlie nods as he takes the last drag off the joint, then drops the roach in the sand and tells me a sad story about a kid from his neighborhood who was run over by a drunk driver, so between the two stories we're in a bit of a downer mood. Sad stories and pot can do that to you.

Later, laying back on the lifeguard stand we're trying to pick out the big dipper in the stars, as I tell him, "There are more stars in space than grains of sand in all the beaches on earth." Charlie goes, "Seriously?" then we see headlights in the distance. I go, "Don't panic, but it's the beach patrol intent on harassing anyone on the beach after hours." We hop off the life guard stand and jog up toward the street. The beach patrol guys see us running, but once we're on the sidewalk there's not much they can do about it. They don't even slow down driving past us, but the guy in the shotgun seat, wearing sunglasses at night, points at us as they fly by. The Jeep's kicking sand up behind it. That's kind of a cool job. Cockily sitting in an

open Jeep flying down the beach watching guys and girls scattering.

Bad-ass beach patrol!

We sit on a bench at another bus stop watching the beach patrol's tail lights disappear. I go, "We'll wait until they turn around and come past us in the other direction before we go back on the beach." In the meantime, a car pulls up on the other side of the street with two girls in their mid-twenties getting out. Butch-looking girls. The buxom one is wearing pajamas and she has a high and tight flattop haircut. I know she's a girl because she's got watermelon size tits bobbing under her pajama top as she walks. The other one is short and stocky wearing guy's military-style clothing.

Charlie snickers and mutters, "Dykes," and I go, "Shhh, fer chrissakes, Charlie!"

The stocky one snaps her head around while the one in pajamas grabs stocky girl's arm, saying, "Forget about those losers, Trey." We get a hard stare from Trey, then she shoots us the 'finger' as they're walking between two double decker houses. Their place must have an entrance in the back.

Watching them disappear I squeeze the back of Charlie's neck, saying, "What's wrong with you? Getting into an altercation with girls, whether they're dykes or otherwise, is a no-win situation. You gonna get in a fist fight with a girl?" He shrugs, "How'd I know she'd have the world's best hearing? I was talking to you, not her. She needs to mind her own business." Shaking my head slowly, I mutter, "Calling them dykes is as bad as Ronny calling you a faggot." He shrugs, mumbling, "Yes, Mommy." Then we hear the beach patrol's Jeep returning. While waiting for it to fly by us, I tell Charlie the story of Ryan and I on our way to Georgia having an encounter with the Dykes On Bikes Club. I say, "It's okay if they want to call themselves dykes, but it's not politically correct for a non-dyke to call them dykes." He looks at me for a couple of seconds, then goes, "Really?" I go, "Hey, I don't make up the rules." After a pause, he mumbles, "Whatever, but damn, you do have a lot of strange shit happening to you... dykes on bikes, huh?"

I mutter, "I'll tell you one thing: that Jeep needs a new muffler," as it roars by us in the other direction. When it's taillights become tiny red dots in the distance, I pat Charlie's shoulder, "C'mon, let's go in for a swim." He says, "We already did that earlier this week. I'm tired." Oh good!

Getting up, I'm like, "Me too. It's two o'clock in the friggin' morning so let's pretend we saw the sun come up and head for home." Charlie follows me onto the beach, whining, "No, I really want to see the sun come up."

Exasperated, I ask, "Obviously your parents think you're in bed, right?" He goes, "Yeah, they always go to bed before me. They don't do a bed check if that's what you mean." Walking aimlessly on the beach again, Charlie says, "You said earlier today you'd gotten even with people who fucked with you or Jeff. What was that like. How'd you do it." Not wanting to regurgitate anymore unpleasant memories, I say, "Chub and I don't talk about that shit, Charlie. It's not something we're proud of; it was something we had to do. It's in the past and best forgotten, just like the fire-bombing we did earlier today is best forgotten." Then to change the subject, I go, "Tell me more about you and that kid you have dildo sex with." He goes, "That's over with."

I say, "Hey, we're making conversation here. I tell you something, then you tell me something. Let's hear the story."

We walk for a bit, then he shrugs, "Okay, but I haven't even talked to Robert for months. We did it during our senior year. Anyway I already told you; we put condoms on a big dildo and he'd fuck my ass with it. What else is there to tell?" I'm like, "Did you cum?" He nods, "Most of the time, but other times he'd get tired of thrusting it in my ass, and if the dildo ever had a spot of shit on it, or I farted, that ended it right there." I laugh at the serious way he said that. Then he wistfully says, "Robert and his scatophobia." I'm like, "That's it? That's the whole story?" and he goes, "Yeah, after a while it got to be boring almost, and anyway Robert wasn't cool or good looking. Actually we both started feeling creepy about it, ha ha ha, and for good reason too. We drifted apart and stopped texting each other."

We walk a little with me grinning trying to picture those two numb-nuts with the condom-covered dildo that Robert inspects for signs of shit. Then I go, "So you've had no sex, including no dildo sex, for at least a year, um, until this week?" He says, "That's right," then defensively adds, "And I'm not the only one. Most young gay guys have no sex or very little of it. I mean, who wants to hang out in public bathrooms. I'd never lower myself to do that." Dodger and I fucking in the equipment room flashes past my mind, so I go, "Nobody's talking about hanging out in bathrooms!" Charlie hits my shoulder, "You're one of the lucky ones, being young when you had a steady boyfriend." I ask, "Yeah, well, when you're twenty-one will you frequent gay bars?" He shrugs, "I suppose so. How else am I going to find a gay guy I

like, who maybe becomes my boyfriend?" Jeez, ya know, I am lucky! I've been in a few gay clubs with Willie and the experiences weren't that great. I gotta be more attentive to Robby.

Still curious, and for something to say, I ask, "So, Charlie, you've never

once met a gay guy around your own age?" He shakes his head, "Nope, just you, but you're different from other guys I suspected might be gay. Somehow you seemed approachable right from the start and, um, you seemed nice and safe to be with too." If that's his criteria I want to ask him how nice and safe Lee seemed to him, but I don't wanna bring up that sorry subject again. Charlie adds, "I don't know exactly why I felt so comfortable with you.

Ya know, it's hard to explain, but I've never met anyone like you before, that's all I can tell you." I go, "Yeah, but what made you think I'd go along with that nail polish foot fetish thing of yours? And you initiated the sex we had that first time." He looks at me, "Um, I'm really not sure. It's puzzling to me too because I've never had the balls to suggest anything to anyone before you. Maybe it was something about the way you looked at me.

Yeah, it's your eyes, I think. Something about your eyes when you talk to me. Then there's the most obviously thing; I knew you were gay because you told my sister you were."

Then we see the alcove ahead and both stop to gawk at it. Charlie murmurs, "There's our alcove." I snort out a laugh, "Duh, yeah! It's right where it was the last time we saw it." He asks, "Do you wanna do it? I've got a condom, or we don't need to use it if you don't want to." I say, "Isn't your ass too sore?" he says, "Nope! Not that sore. Anyway what's a little pain when compared to getting fucked up the rear-end by Dylan Newman?" I start to say something, but stop because I hear a voice from inside the alcove.

Putting my finger to my lips, like, 'Shhh', I take Charlie's arm and pull him backwards a little bit, then point to the street. We walk up to the sidewalk as I whisper, "I heard someone in the alcove." His eyes get big, "What'd they say?" I shrug, "I don't know, but someone's in there." He snickers, "You don't suppose they're re-using our condoms, do you?" I can't help but snort out a laugh putting my hand over my mouth, then whisper, "Don't say anything. Let's quietly walk to that bus-stop bench and see if we can hear them." That's what we do and we hear murmuring, but can't make out what's being said.

Charlie holds his hands out, palms up, like, what do we do now? I do the 'Shh' thing again and drift off the sidewalk to the grass in front of the alcove. Peeking just over the edge I look right into the eyes of someone looking back at me. Lee's eyes! Backing up quickly, almost falling on my ass, I

grab Charlie arm, pulling him, saying, "Run! It's Lee!" and we take off running our asses off, flying across the street away from the beach. I look back when we're almost at the next intersection and don't see anyone following. We keep running down a second block, then over one. Gasping for air, Charlie stops, asking, "Was he alone?" I go, "I didn't see anyone else, but unless he was talking to himself there was someone with him." Thinking about it, I mumble, "Ya know... now I'm not so sure it was the sicko. He generally looked like him, but why would he be there, and what a bizarre coincidence it would be if he was there." Charlie goes, "So, maybe it wasn't him?" I nod, "Yeah, I panicked a little bit because the guy had his head back looking up at me right in my eyes, like he was expecting someone to look down at him. Guess he heard us." Two block down from the alcove we walk back to the sidewalk on the beach side of the street, glancing at the alcove. I'm like, "This blows! In the first place, what are the chances there'd be two other nitwits besides us on the beach at three o'clock in the morning?"

Charlie goes, "We're not nitwits!"

Then, after taking a few steps, he whines, "I think I cut my foot on something." He holds his foot up behind him and I look at it. "It's not cut, Charlie, but running on cement sidewalks in bare feet isn't the best idea we ever had." I rub his foot and he laughs, "Do that some more and maybe I'll spring a boner." I'm messing with his toes when my peripheral vision sees motion. Glancing out the side of my eyes I see a guy who just walked out of the alcove, and then another guy joins him. They stand on the beach right in front of it. Neither of them is Lee. I say, "Don't be obvious about it, but look to your right." He says, "Oh yeah, but neither one is the sicko,"

and I go, "Well, it's not our sicko, but it could be another sicko." Letting go of his foot, I mumble, "Let's pretend we don't see them. We'll go down and soak your foot in the ocean. Salt water can be very healing; I think I read that somewhere." We saunter onto the beach and go all the way down to the ocean to soak Charlie's boo-boo. We're standing where the waves' run-off rolls up to cover our ankles before undertow draws it back to the ocean.

Charlie says, "The water's cold, but it feels good on my feet." The two guys start walking towards us. I say, "Uh oh, we've got company. Balls!"

They walk up to us, but stop before the wave run-off can reach them, about ten feet away. The tall one asks me, "Hey, why'd you run off like that?" I say, "Case of mistaken identity. I thought you were someone else." Both guys are approximately my age. The tall one has light brown hair that looked like Lee's in the moonlight. I can see now that he doesn't look anything like him though. He has an average okay face, and overall he's fine. The short redhead, on the other hand, isn't fine. He has longish dark-red hair in no particular style. He grins, asking, "Do you owe money to the guy you thought was my main man, Teddy?" nodding at the tall guy. I shake my head, then ask, "You guys planning on spending the night on the beach?" He says, "Nah, probably not all night. We'll sleep in the car at some point. We drove down from Philly without reserving a room, so we'll try hooking up with someone who has a room." I can see this coming a mile away. He grins again, and asks, "Hey, do you guys have a room we could bunk in? You're brothers, right?" I go, "No, we're not brothers and we're staying with our families.

Leaving tomorrow, as a matter of fact."

The short redhead is the smiling friendly one. He has about twenty thousand dark freckles across his squarish face. He runs his fingers though his dark red hair getting it out of his eyes and I see the back of his hand has freckles on it too. He's about five foot, four inches short and built like a block. Not fat but big boned and squat. His friend, Teddy, is an inch taller than me, but thinner. He's a tall thin rail with rounded shoulders.

They're both wearing baggy shorts, t-shirt, and sneakers without socks.

Charlie's kind of standing a little behind me as Freckles smiles, saying, "It's a shame you're leaving tomorrow 'cause we could have hooked up for the weekend. Terry and I will probably hook up with a room tomorrow night." I go, "Good luck with that." Teddy says, "Quit beating around the bush, Boone. Fuck the room," then to Charlie and me, he asks, "Do you two wanna fuck around a little with us?" Boone chuckles, "Teddy likes to get to the point without some schmoozing first." Teddy gives Boone a look like he should keep his mouth shut, then he says to us, "How 'bout a friendly four-way in the, whatever that thing is over there," pointing at the alcove. I'm like, "What makes you think we'd want to fool around, as you put it?" He points at the alcove again, saying, "For one thing there's a few rubbers full of jism in there and you were checking it out so I'm assuming one of you were about to fill another rubber with you dick up the other's ass. Right?" I shrug, "Not necessarily, but yeah we're gay. Tell me something: Do you assume every gay guy you run into wants to have sex with you?" He motions with his finger for me to come to him. Guess he doesn't want to get his sneakers wet. He goes, "I won't know unless I ask, will I?" Huh, he's got a point.

I give him a 'look' and another shrug, so he goes, "Come out of the water and talk to us. Jesus, this isn't rocket science." Charlie stays close to me, sarcastically saying, "Wow, I never heard that phrase before." Freckles,

aka Boone, smiles, saying to Teddy, "Dude, you're coming on too strong."

Then to us, "We've got a case of beer in our hatch back, which is right there," and he points to a blue, late model Ford Fiesta parked at the curb.

"How about a beer?" Charlie says, "Yeah, c'mon, how 'bout it, Dylan?" These two don't scare me and I'm not detecting any bad vibes from either of them; plus, a beer sounds pretty good, so the four of us walk toward the car. Tall Teddy puts his hand on Charlie's shoulder, asking, "What's your name?"

Charlie tells him, and the guy asks, "You going to college, Charlie?" That's a way to find out Charlie's approximate age. Charlie fills him in about his college as Boone, the short redhead, bumps my arm with the back of his freckled hand, saying, "How 'bout you?" I mumble, "Yeah, I'll be a junior at Merrimack college. It's in Massachusetts." He gives me his nice smile, asking, "You got a name? I'm Boone Boonariski." I go, "How ya doing, I'm Dylan."

He reaches up and rubs his fingers through my hair, asking, "Do you mind? Nice hair, dude!" I look at him like he's from outer space, and he says, "I guess it was kinda queer of me to mention your hair like I'm some kind of a cunt, but when you've got hair like mine ya tend to be envious of guys with hair like yours." Boone has nice teeth, but a thick face; he's not ugly, but not attractive either. Great friendly smile though. His thick neck has creases in it, and he's got big shoulders. On the other hand, he has a very pleasant speaking voice and a generally nice manner about him. In spite of his bulk he doesn't seem dangerous at all.

It's Teddy's hatchback. He gets in it and backs the car up a block so it's in front of the bus stop bench. Then Boone opens the hatch back and takes cans of Miller beer from a cooler. "We don't have a fucking room for the night, but we have cold beer," then Teddy adds, "Guess you could say we have our priorities straight." He takes a long swallow of beer, then says, "Boone and I are seniors at Temple University," and Boone adds, "This is our last fling in Wildwood before heading back to school. Spur of the moment road trip." Charlie gulps some beer and asks in his innocent way, "Okay, so Dylan peeked over the ledge of that alcove and you saw some condoms, but how's that enough to tell you that me and my boyfriend are gay?" Teddy puts his arm across Charlie's shoulders, saying, "Two cute guys like you just had to be gay." Charlie goes, "No, seriously, I'd like to know." Boone says, "Well it was a good guess considering the way you two were standing close together, and you, Charlie-boy, were staring at Dylan with your puppy dog eyes."

Teddy says, "Not that we blame you; your boyfriend's worth staring at."

Charlie grins, mumbling, "You've got pretty eyes yourself, Teddy," and that gets him a hug, I mutter, "We're not boyfriends for one thing. We only met last Sunday because our condos happened to be opposite each other, and I never even noticed Charlie's puppy dog eyes." Charlie gives me a 'look' as Teddy smiles, calmly saying, "No offense intended, Dylan, but could you lighten-the fuck-up a tiny bit? Please. We're just being friendly to fellow beach bums."

Before I can reply with some cleverly sarcastic witty come back, smiling Boone intercedes, asking, "Have either of you ever shotgun a can of beer?"

He snaps open the tab on his can and takes a penknife from his pocket to punch a hole in the side of the can, then he holds it upside down and drains all twelve ounces in twenty seconds. His neck is so thick his Adam's apple barely bobs as he gulps, gulps, gulps the whole can, then crushes it, drops it on the ground, and does a long burp. Charlie goes, "Wow, that was cool."

I lighten-up a tiny bit to please Teddy, and we drink two cans of beer each while exchanging college campus stories. Then Teddy tells Boone to gets out the pint bottle of Old Granddad bourbon he has in the glove compartment. We pass that around while drinking a third can of beer each. I'm feeling good and mellow by now. Boone and Terry seem like regular guys and they tell some funny stories. They admit they're both still in the gay closet, but they've been active sex buddies for over two years. Teddy says, "To show you what good guys we are, we're gonna share some great shit with you," and he tells Boone to get a couple of joints out of the spare-tire compartment.

Boone gets two joints out of a baggy and hands them to Teddy. It's obvious Teddy runs the show for these two. Charlie goes, "Hot shit!" as Teddy lights one himself, takes a drag, then gives the other one back to Boone. Boone and I sit on the bench smoking the joint while Charlie and Freddy share their joint sitting in the opened hatchback.

None of us does much talking as we smoke. Then Teddy says something I don't hear that gets Charlie giggling. Boone puts his hairy arm across my shoulders, asking, "Is this some good shit, or what?" I shrug, feeling lightheaded as he squeezes my shoulders, then leaves his arm there. Halfway done the joint we're leaning against one another with him taking a drag, holding in the smoke, then holding the joint to my lips so I can take a drag, "Hold it in, Dylan." I mutter, "I know how to smoke pot, Boone," then I laugh, not really sure why. His hand rubs over my head a couple of times, then he pulls my head to the side of his, saying, "You're very good looking. I was really surprised when Teddy told me he wanted Charlie. I would have chosen you if I had a choice." I'm foggy, muttering, "Teddy's the man, huh?" He shrugs, "Yeah, I guess you could say that. Hey, you must have a lot of boyfriends, huh?" I shake my head, muttering, "No! Just one." He chuckles, mumbling, "Yeah, I'll bet," then he asks, his voice seemingly coming from far off, "You gonna let me fuck you later on, Dylan?" Ooooh, I'm feeling so good. My forehead's laying against the side of his scratchy cheek with me too lazy to move it. I murmur, "Um, I guess if you want to... why the fuck not." He squeezes me tightly against his side, murmuring, "First though, you'll need to give my big cock a good sucking, right? Would you do me that gigantic favor?" I'm squinting at the car, not seeing Charlie or Teddy. When did they leave? Shaking my head to clear it a little, I sit up and stupidly point at the car, mumbling, "Charlie and Teddy, um..." then I notice the car bouncing a little.

Boone stands up pulling me up with him, using one of his big meaty hands behind my head to do it, saying, "Huh, yeah they're already fucking in the back seat. Would it be okay with you if we do it on the beach?" I look at him as my head's swimming and my visions a little blurry. He's short and stout and not very attractive, except he's like this nice macho man. It was comfortably cozy with us leaning together there for a while on the bench, and basically he's a good guy, so why not. I go, "The beach? Um, do you mean the alcove?" My slurred speech tells me I'm hammered and stoned, but it's not the first time I've had sex in this condition. He says, "Yeah, whatever that thing is," then he says, "You're really being nice about this," and he looks at me for a second, then runs his fingers through my hair for the tenth time appearing surprised I'm okay with everything he does. I'm looking back at him waiting for him to decide what and where we're doing, um, whatever. There's a slight dizziness I'm dealing with as well. Finally I ask, "Do you want me to do something right now, Boone. I'm, um, ya know." He slowly shakes his head, grinning. Yeah, he apparently can't believe I'm this malleable. Shrugging, he takes a tight hold on my upper arm, and asks, "So, you wanna do whatever I want, huh? That's very cool of you." Tightening his grip on my arm he leads me onto the sand in kind of a confident manner, but I don't think he knows his own strength. I mean the way he's gripping my arm and almost pulling me with him. It causes a flicker of submissiveness to blink across my brain.

Huh, I don't think I was feeling submissive at all until just now. Sure, I was totally mellowed-out but not thinking about acting submissive. Damn, that little spike of submissiveness felt good though, and Boone was definitely in charge while we smoked the joint. He held it to my lips most of the time, and he had his arm around me. It didn't occur to me until now how much I'd like a sexy submissive sense while having sex. I mean it's been weeks since I last had a great submissive sexual experience. With Ryan of course.

Stocky Boone has been so friendly and agreeable it never occurred to me he might be dominant. The problem with that is, I have a feeling it never occurred to him either. We walk down the slope with him pulling me along and me purposely acting docile, leaning against him reinforcing the concept that he's in charge. That appears to be taking him by surprise. At least at first, but he's gaining confidence by the second. That happens quite often between guys who hardly know each other. If one sees the other letting him lead he'll likely see how far he can push it. Human nature I guess. Alpha dog and all that shit.

Inside the alcove Boone's recognizing I'm more than agreeable to following his lead... and like me, he's drunk and stoned too, so he says, "Walk back a couple of steps and get your pants down. Right over there, away from those rubbers." He pulls his shorts down, then steps out of them and I see he isn't wearing underwear. I stare at his huge limp penis. A very fat one about seven inches long. It's a pasty white color hanging out of, and contrasting with, a thick dark red pubic patch that trails up under his t-shirt.

Dark red hair covers his thighs and calves too. His legs are like tree trunks. I'm standing where he told me to, just staring at him. He steps over and roughly pulls my shorts down without unbuttoning them first, then my underwear. Boone seems to be quite horny, breathing noisily through his mouth.

He rubs around my shaved groin, snickering a little; it's probably pot-induced snickering. I'm looking at his hairy thighs curious about all that red hair, so with a little hesitation I run my fingers along his leg. The hair is a little stiff rather than being soft like most hair texture. Boone wets his lips taking hold of the hand I touched his leg with, and he holds it while licking his big wide tongue across my mouth. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, muttering, "Euuu," as he strokes his cock a few times.

It's like he's not sure what to do next, then with a hand on each of my shoulders he turns me around and fondles my ass, murmuring, "Nice! Really a primo ass," then I go, "Aaaah!" as his finger goes in past my sphincter. He wiggles it around, then my back arches as he pushes the finger all the way up my ass. His other hand is tightly squeezing the back of my neck holding me in place, slightly bent over. Strong mother fucker! He finger fucks me a few times, then rubs my prostate and my cock starts firming up. Pulling his finger out he wipes it on my right butt cheek, then turns me around and cups behind my head pulling it down, saying, "Time to suck my cock, pretty boy." I'm bending at the waist until he roughly pushes me further down, saying, "On your knees," and a gooey submissive trance flows deliciously over me as my cock gets hard. Ahh, my old friend, a submissive trance during sex. It feels so gooooood!

He holds out his big slab of meat, then rubs it around my face. There's a strong smell coming from his crotch that's not quite BO; so I tell myself it's a manly smell that's wafting off his nuts. His cock is actually fatter than Ray's, which is the only one I can think to compare it to, although it's not quite as long, and the head's large but not the mushroom head like on Ray's pecker. Still, Boone's is one of the bigger cocks I've seen, which makes mine seem small and that adds to my sense of Boone being dominant.

It'd be better if he'd speak more forcefully when he says things like, "Take it in your mouth now, and suck me a boner." I'm doing everything in slow motion, feeling the marijuana in my blood.

I look up as Boone's licking his lips again, then he says a little more forcefully, "Suck it!" then adds in a quieter voice, "I'm so fucking hot and horny doing this with you!" My submissive trance recedes a little hearing that. Taking his cock from his fingers I suck on the head as his strong manly scent fills my olfactory glands. He puts a hand on either side of my head encouraging me, "That's it! Suck on that fat head like you're in love with it." The tip of my tongue probes at his pee slit and he goes, "Holy shit," and shuffles his feet a little while pulling my head forward sending three inches of the fat shaft sliding into my mouth on my tongue. The head hits the gag reflex area of my throat and I gag so he pulls it out a little, asking, "Better?" I nod my head, trying to retain my submissive trance. It helps to strengthen my submissiveness by putting my arms around his hairy thighs and making slurping mouth-sounds really giving his cock a good tongue-licking while sucking it at the same time. Soon spit's dripping off my chin and his cock has firmed up pretty hard.

Continuing to suck his ever hardening cock gets Boone's moving his body making, "Umm, umm," sounds, then he pulls my head forward hard and that fat cock goes down my throat. My Adam's apple is distended freakishly. Humping his hips a few times as I'm struggling to pull my head back but his firm hold on my head prevents that, which sends my mind deeper into submissiveness all the way to the docile stage. I'm limp as he murmurs, "That's right, let me dictate what's gonna happen. Just relax and take it." My face is hot and probably bright red as he humps his very hard, fat boner back and forth in my throat. I'm not sure if I'll climax or pass-out first. My cock is very

hard. He finally pulls his out entirely. I'm gasping for air as he pats the side of my face, saying, "Nice job. You did good, and look at that pencil dick of yours." I glance down and see my cock is really tight and hard up against my belly dripping precum. He laughs, then cups behind my head again pulling it to him, saying, "Give my balls a bath with that talented tongue of yours." My nose is deep in his thick pubic hairs as I lap at the hairs on his big, low hanging nuts. The smell isn't pleasant, but it's turning me on and making me stroke my hard cock. Ooooh, my submissive trance is strong now and I get that floating sensation while my cock throbs and continues dripping precum over my fist. Oooh, awesome sensations... my anus twitching with anticipation.

Obviously Boone sees me acting more and more submissive to him, so he acts bossier, saying, "Get that tongue under my nuts." Lapping near his asshole that's covered in course red hairs, the smell changes to a shit smell.

He's got my face plastered against his private parts though so I can't pull back, and anyway I couldn't be more docile lapping away with my tongue. Then, just like that my body stiffens and I'm positive I'm going to climax. The feeling peaks and I get ready to squeal, but the sensation retreats as he gets a finger under my chin lifting my face. Unaware I almost shot my load, he says, "Get behind me and give my ass a rimming and then I'll fuck you really good." Giving my face a little slap, he says, "Go ahead and do what you're told." Oh fuck, on my knees in front of him I tighten my stomach muscles again, scrunching my face knowing I'm going to climax this time, but no, it doesn't happen. Boone's looking at me like I'm crazy as I sit back on my ankles hardly believing I didn't climax this time either. But, oh it's the dreamiest most awesome feeling being right on the verge of climax, and feeling so docilely submissive to this stranger. He says, "Are you alright? Didn't you hear what I told you to do?"

Oh man, I nod my heavy head and walk on my knees around behind him. First I spread his hard hairy butt cheeks, then lap across his hairy asshole with him pushing his ass back at my face, saying, "Get your nose in my crack and your tongue up my asshole." He has the right words but his voice is so pleasant I need to concentrate on the fact I'm licking a guy's asshole to maintain this strong trance. Wrapping my arms around his thick thighs again, I

plaster my face against his ass and probe at his asshole with my tongue.

Very acrid shitty taste, which in my submissive frame of mind is a turn-on for me and I'm able to rim his ass maintaining a very submissive state of mind. I know it's getting him hot too because he's stroking his big cock making those moaning sounds again, "Umm, umm, ummm." It's only maybe a minute before Boone steps away taking a deep breath, grunting, "Jesus! You're really good at this, ain't ya? I almost lost my load. How 'bout licking my nuts some more while I calm down a bit." He cups behind my head again and I lick his hairy balls with his hard slimy cock up against my cheek, next to my nose, the head pushing up some hair at my forehead. Yes, my hair's growing and I finally have inch-and-a-quarter long bangs like a normal person might have. A big bubble of precum drools out of his cock and drips down across my forehead and down the side of my nose, eventually sliding over my upper lip.

Boone's grunting now, "Umpth, ooh, ooh man," then he grabs the back of my neck and pulls my head sideways until I flop onto my hands and knees.

"SMACK! SMACK!" his big beefy hand slaps my ass. His voice has gone up a couple of octaves when he says, "Get that cunt of yours up!" I push my ass up so far my knees are off the ground. He mutters, "Yeah, like that," as he reaches to the ground going through his pants' pocket for a condom. Looking back, I see him rolling it on his engorged boner, then I glance over near the corner seeing the condoms Charlie left there. Boone abruptly grabs my hips and humps the fat head of his boner against my asshole, "Ooh!" It's so fat though it only goes in halfway, so another thrust and it's inside me and I'm seeing stars of pain that quickly morphs into intense pleasure and I almost cum for the third time, and this time I moan from the sexual pleasure, "Oooh, mmmm, ooh." He mutters, "Feels good, huh? You got a tight pussy on you, let me tell ya. Damn, it feels good though," and he thrust again really opening me up back there this time. It feels like my anus might split but in spite of the pain, my neck stretches back with me moaning again, "Aaaah, oooh, ummm, feels so good." He actually chuckles, and a third hard thrust has his pubic hair surrounding my hole. He leans in tight against my buttock, humping against me a couple of times, then asking, "You doing okay down there." I moan, "Mmmmm, ooh." He mutters to himself, "I'll take that as a 'yes'." and he starts fucking me hard, driving my body forward and I'm rocking back and forth on my arms with each thrust. I can't help dropping back onto my knees which Boone doesn't approve of, "SMACK!" then, in a strangely high pitched voice, "Bring that pussy back up to me!"

Pushing my ass back up so far most of my weight is on my arms. My legs are bent, I'm on my toes with my knees off the sandy ground again. His big fat cock gets moving smoothly with the lubricant from the condom, and oh man it feels so good having a big cock up my ass again bringing back memories of Ryan plowing my rectum. Boone's not shy about hammering his boner up there

creating sizzling sensations on my prostate and unbelievable scintillating

sensations all around the lips of my wickedly stretched asshole. My shoulders do a few shudders and I know right away I'm going blow my load any second now. I feel my orgasm building and when Boone does four faster-than-normal thrusts, groaning himself at the buzzing coming off his cock, my back arches, my neck's stretching back, and my body stiff as my hips hump back at his thrust, then forward with cum streaming out of my stone-hard cock making me shake all over as I squeal, then again and one more time with shivers streaking all over me... now I'm limp as a dishrag. He's against my buttocks humping hard making a strange whining sound as I suppose he's climaxing and filling the condom. Some random thrusting before he pulls his huge cock out, swinging his arm to smack my ass again, but he misses. It's unbelievable how wide open I feel back there with cool air flooding into my bowels.

My forehead is resting on the back of my arms, my knees on the sand as I rock slowly to and fro breathing deeply, savoring that climax. Not as good as some of my better ones, but really good just the same. My asshole is not only gaping open, but also slimy with lube from the condom. The climax for both of us came on too quickly. Too bad 'cause I was really loving being fucked by that huge cock. I guess we both got overly aroused from the oral sex foreplay. He's gasping a little bit too, then mumbles, "That was too fast, huh?" He strips the condom off tossing it over with Charlie's, murmuring, "Whoa, there's something magical about your ass." I'm feeling the last of my climax sensations fading away when Boone says, "Fuck it," and mounts me hard, bareback this time. I go, "Oooh," and he fucks my ass hard and fast lifting my hips so he's supporting the back half of me. My forehead is still resting on the back of my forearms as my body jostles limply with each hard thrust. He's gasping after three or four minutes and just like that I feel another orgasm building. I start moaning, "Oooh, ooh, don't stop, aaah."

I'm squirming as this second climax builds and builds and, "Aaah," as three little shots of cum streak out and me reaching back stroking my boner.

Boone groans and slows up as I feel drops of perspiration drip off his face pinging on my lower back. Setting me down on my knees again, he backs up pulling out his cock and does some deep breathing. Oh my God, that was really good, but it's left me very shaky.

A few seconds later Boone reaches down grabbing both my arms helping me up. He's at least six inches shorter than me, but twice as wide. Rubbing my back, he says, "We should do it again a little later, don'cha think? I didn't cum the second time, but I promise not to cum as fast as the first time."

He's got his arms around me, proudly murmuring, "I wanted to give you a second orgasm as a way to say thanks for doing this with me." I'm dizzy from the explosion of sensations those two climaxes heaped on me, and I'm not sure what to say about him thanking me, so just shrug my shoulder as Charlie pops around to the front of the alcove, "Oh, there you are. I told Teddy you'd be in here." Then he glances at Boone's cock and goes, "Holy shit! Ha ha, better Dylan than me. Jesus that's a big one." Boone says, "You wanna try it a little latter?" Charlie goes, "Um, ah, Teddy said maybe we'd switch or maybe we won't. Ya know, whatever he says." Boone pulls his shorts up and hands me mine so I step into them just as Teddy comes around with four cold beers. He looks at me pulling up my shorts and says, "Oh, you shave down there too. Are you sure you and Charlie aren't boyfriends?"

He hands me a beer as Boone asks him, "Charlie shaves his pubes too?"

Teddy nods, "Yeah, it's a good look, but a pain in the ass keeping up with it, and it'll get scratchy as hell if you don't shave every few days. Like I said, pain in the ass." Swallowing some beer, Charlie asks Boone and Teddy, "Which one of you tops when you guys do it. I'll bet it's Teddy." Boone goes, "Yep, that'd be Ted. He dominates my ass mostly, but a couple minutes ago I got off big-time dominating, Dylan. Didn't I, Dylan?" and he gets his hairy arm around the back of my neck pulling me against him, chest to chest, adding, "He was very generous letting me be the dom. I think I'll take him home with me." He actually is a nice hairy red bear. Are there red bears? Way in the back of my mind though there's this annoying flickering beacon of knowledge telling me the weed I smoked is distorting my perception of, well, everything. Without the pot most of the interaction with Boone tonight would never happen. It's a persistent blipping signal that I submerge, fooling myself that everything we're doing is harmless, sexy, and fun. And it is actually, just not something I would do with Boone if I weren't stoned and drunk.

Boone pulls his shirt off displaying his hair-covered torso and a tattoo on his left pec that reads: 'DON'T TOUCH', then he and Teddy leave their sneakers next to the alcove and the four of us take our beers, walking through the sand to the ocean. In a fog, I ask, "Do the beach patrol guys operate all night?" Boone, who has his arm possessively across my shoulders holding me against his hairy side, says, "Nah, nobody will bother us now." I can't figure out my mood; it's not unpleasant so much as it's odd. In my present condition Boone's not annoying even when he reaches over with his free hand to run his fingers through my hair again. He's now totally comfortable doing whatever he feels like with me, asking, "What's your haircut called?"

As we walk I almost stumble, but he holds me up. I go, "It's a Ryan's specialty haircut, but I haven't had one in weeks now, over month at least." He sounds shocked, "You mean your barber cuts it shorter than this." I nod, "Uh huh, Ryan does." He shakes his head, muttering, "He's an asshole then."

Wading out slowly into shallow water, I notice there's very little wave action tonight, it's strangely calm as Boone tells me, "Teddy's got a couple of beach blankets in case we end up sleeping on the beach." Teddy jokingly goes, "Unless we can bunk with you guys." Charlie seriously says, "Nah, my old man would disapprove of me bringing homeless people home with me."

They chuckle thinking he was joking, as Boone slides his arm from my shoulders to around the back of my neck, asking, "How 'bout you, Dylan? Heh heh, have you changed your mind about me bunking in with you tonight?" I go, "Um, it'd be okay on the beach, not in the condo though. Too disruptive for my mom." Damn, that didn't come out right. It sounded like I wanted to share a blanket sleeping with him on the beach. We're all standing in the ocean with water up to our knees now; Boone being the exception as the water's halfway up his thighs. I see the red longish hairs on his legs floating near the top of the water, and stare at them for a few seconds. Boone's serious now, saying to me, "Sure, Dylan. I'll let you share my blanket later when were ready to call it a night," and he pulls my head down to his bare hairy chest so the side of my face is against it while he rubs my hair, "Love this hair of yours. You tell that barber guy that he'll need to answer to me if he cuts it too short." That doesn't make much sense to me, so I mutter, "What?" Plus, it's really awkward scrunching down the way Boone's holding onto me because he's so much shorter than me. Shorter but by the feel of his body twice as strong.

Teddy and Charlie are on a giggle-trip, which good pot can do to you sometimes, but they don't seem to be doing nearly the hugging and snuggling Boone has us doing. Now he's got the side of my face against his cheek and it's scratchy. His free hand is gently rubbing across the head of my cock through my shorts, and my dick's getting stiff again. I'm being very docile, allowing him to do whatever he wants although normally it'd be embarrassing springing a boner in the middle of us four. It feels good though, and I'm starting to squirm against him, moving the side of my face against his, quietly moaning, "Mmmm." Boone whispers, "You like that, huh?" I scrunch my face reacting to the sensations coming off my cock, but I find I'm unable to be vocally responsive at this particular time. Now he's using two finger stroking my boner sideways and the head's rubbing against my underwear. Teddy and Charlie aren't paying any attention to us as my hands rub across Boone's hairy back while grunting at the sensations coming off my latest boner. Oh man, I could get use to a hairy body and anyway lately I've had kind of a thing for hairy legs. My arm's go around the back of his neck as I'm almost lifting myself off the ocean floor rubbing my face against the side of his head. I never lost my submissive trance so the thought of telling him to stop never enters my mind. Then Teddy turns around and says, "Boone, run up to the car and get a couple joints." Boone lets go of me, muttering, "Yeah, sure thing, Ted," and he goes on his errand. Teddy notices my boner pushing out the front of my shorts now and laughs, saying to Charlie, "Your boyfriends having a hellava time with my boyfriend." I want to tell him we're not boyfriends, but instead I chuckle along with them as they poke at my boner with their fingers. I think Charlie handles pot better than I do.

We're wading around in water up to our knees, and as my boner goes down I'm shaking my head clearing it some, coming out of my malaise a little bit.

Charlie puts his hand on my shoulder, asking, "Did Boone use a condom?" I frown, then go, "The first time, yeah, why?" and just answering the question my head clears-up some more. Boone had me in a delightful trance but it appears to be drifting now. Teddy says, "Oh, lucky you, Boone did you twice, huh?" I'm like, "Yeah, lucky me," then, all of a sudden I'm concerned about Charlie's sore ass, "Um, Teddy, didn't you use a condom with Charlie?"

He shrugs, "Yeah, although I wasn't going to until he said he had a sore ass and we needed the lube. Hey, did you spank his ass like that?" I look at Charlie who does an almost imperceptible head shake 'no', but I don't know what the 'no' means. No, don't say I did it, or no don't tell him about Lee.

I go, "That's our little secret," and Teddy lets that go, saying, to Charlie, "You didn't have any complaints about my cock up your ass, did you, Charlie-boy," and he gets an arm around Charlie pulling him against his side.

Charlie goes, "Heh, heh, um, no complaints at all. You fucked me hot and heavy, plus I've never been fucked with a cock as long as yours before." I feel hurt for a second because it's like he's saying I didn't fuck him as good. Does pot make you paranoid I wonder. Teddy and Charlie are messing around a little, then Teddy reaches down and grabs a fistful of Charlie's butt cheeks, pulling up, saying, "You'll be wishing it's my long cock up your ass

once you feel Boone's up there." Charlie twists out of Teddy's grip and they wind up in each other's arms face to face. Teddy looks at Charlie for a second, then they do a deep kiss that lasts a minute. I look away feeling a little pissed off Charlie's enjoying Teddy so much. Whatever happened to Charlie saying he only wanted be with me? Boone returns with two lit joints, passing one to Teddy. I try begging off, but he won't let me. He shares the joint with me like he did at the end of the joint we had on the bench. Only here he has an arm around the front of me holding my back against his hairy chest, my arms pinned to my sides.

He holds the joint to my lips, saying, "Take a deeper drag this time, Dylan, and hold the smoke in longer. This is damn good shit and you're wasting some of it." I do that, and he says, "No! Do it again and take a deeper drag and hold it in longer." This time, after I inhale a bigger drag than I intended, he puts the joint in his mouth and cups his hand over my mouth, pinching my nostrils together. I'm scrunched down to his size and his face nuzzles the side of mine as he says in an encouraging way, "Hold it, hold it, that's good, you can do it, hold it," and I start struggling against his arm as he holds me tighter, "No, hold it in. Do it for me, hold it in," and finally, "Okay, exhale it now," and as he takes his hand away from my face I gasp in air, giggling, then pull my arms from under his and put them around Boone's arm that's holding me across my chest. I need to hold on to him to keep from falling over.

I know I'm as high as a kite, so I'm feeling comfortable by now being held by Boone. As he's taking a toke off the joint I turn in his arm and face him, nestling in against his hairy body. He squeezes my body, saying, "Move your head back," and then he holds the joint between my lips, saying, "Hold still, Dylan! Now do this like I taught you." I take a big inhale, and he says, "Okay, good boy. Now hold your breath by yourself. Don't make me have to do it for you." I hold it until I almost faint. Exhaling and gasping for air he hugs me with both arms, "Good! Good boy!" His dark red bangs drag across my face, then his arms go around the back of my neck again making me scrunch down further, but I've got both arms around him laying my forehead against his shoulder; the stiff hairs there feeling sexy. I'm floating, not sure where I am. He drags off the roach, then goes, "C'mon, you've got a couple more coming to you," so I lift my heavy head and take the pot like he told me to. Exhaling and almost floating away from him, I go back to nestling in against Boone not even knowing who he is. I don't even remember the last three drags off that joint, mostly just hearing Boone's far off voice saying, "Hold it in, hold it in."

Finished the joint Boone sway us side to side in the water and it's so nice being held and taken care of like this. Finally, as I'm swooning and getting hypnotized by the swaying, he says, "C'mon, let's go up with the other guys." I didn't even know they left. He's almost carrying me as we make our way back to the car. He sits me on the bench, but I have no fucking idea where I am or who I'm with. Boone gets us another beer, then sits next to me ruffling my hair. With my eyes half closed, I grin, then giggle for about a minute making him join in the laughter, neither of us knowing why we're laughing. He rubs all over my body, saying, "Your skin is so smooth." I feel fine without a care in the world, and it feels good being massaged. I've always like being touched. A few minutes later I'm at least aware enough to feel a spike of panic because I don't see Charlie. Boone see my eyes looking around and he squeezes me, murmuring, "Your boyfriend's in the back seat with Teddy." I see their heads and it looks like they're just talking.

I'm supposed to be looking out for Charlie, who actually seems to be handling everything a lot better than I am. Maybe he needs to look out for me.

Boone says, "Put your arms up so I can take your shirt off." I'm still submissive/stoned/drunk enough to do what I'm told and he pulls my shirt off over my head, saying, "This will be cozier, don'cha think?" I nod my head, but answering difficult questions like that one, or making any decisions at all, are simply out of the question, so I don't bother trying. I look at him and apparently my goofy expression is conveying the wrong message because he raises his eyebrows, asking, "You ready to do it again already?" I'm still in a thick fog so just stare back at him, like the question was too hard. It was actually. He's goes, "No, it's too soon, Dylan. We'll do it again when I say so and that'll be maybe in an hour. Here, snuggle in against my chest." I lay the side of my head over like he said, nestled in the millions of red curly hairs against his rock hard chest. His hairy arm goes around me, hugging me against him, and then two of his fingers slide inside the waistband of my shorts rubbing my cock again as he whispers in my ear, "I'd like my boy to maintain a boner at all times," and he giggles making me chuckle too.

A couple of minutes later my hips hump on their own as Boone leans his lips against my ear, again whispering, "You smell good," then he sticks his tongue in my ear. I guess I'm floating from the pot, not being use to it, plus he had me smoke most of the last one myself. I feel like I don't have a bone in my body laying against Boone, who's rubbing my cock and keeping my body tight and safe against him. That damn five o'clock shadow of his is scratchy when he rubs his cheek against mine, but now it feels sexy. He's murmuring, "Open your eyes, Dylan. Don't go to sleep on me." I blink my eyes a few times and he puts a finger under my jaw pulling my face around, then kisses my cheek. I'm letting myself go, enjoying the submissiveness of tonight and as he continues rubbing my cock I feel good all over, wondering what we'll do next...

to be continued... Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com

donnymumford@outlook.com

========================================================

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

============================================

Please consider a tax deductible donation of any size to nonprofit Nifty to help with the expense of maintaining this ginormous free story site. Thank you very much.

http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html