OLIVER'S ADVENTURES
Chapter 9 (Summer Job 3)
by Donny Mumford
My curiosity got the best of me and I asked Pete to fuck me with his big cock this morning. So, this afternoon I'm going to feel Pete's huge cock up my ass. When I asked him to do it he even warned me I'll have a damn sore ass if he fucks me because he fucks hard with that monster cock and he's gonna give me what he calls his special Mickey fuck, which he says will have me walking bowlegged. Mickey's the stud he messes around with in what Pete claims is really two straight guys doing a little experimenting with gay sex. Straight guys my ass, but that's their business. Now that I've had a couple of hours to think about that engorged boner of Pete's up my ass, I'm getting cold feet. I'm really nervous about it, but aroused at the same time, and I've been vacillating about it all afternoon. If I do it it'll be during our afternoon break in the seldom used little lavatory near the cafe. Guess I can't wimp out, and when it's break time Pete comes demonstrating what I can only call a bossy manner. He motions through the cafe's glass door that he wants me in the small lavatory now. He pantomimes me taking down my pants and then he mouths, 'I'll be in to fuck you shortly'. Man, that gets my dick moving in my shorts so I guess I'm gonna do it. I pass him in the hall on my way to the little lavatory and he smacks my ass as I go by, and says to me, "Get your ass ready to be fucked like you never been fucked before." I feel another touch of apprehension, but it's as if he's an entirely different boy now that he'll be in charge of the fucking, and that's kinda intriguing. Reminds me a little of that tiny dick kid in Wildwood. It gets me excited though because I like to bottom best and I find that I kinda like the submissive role too. I didn't know that about myself, but I'm finding it to be true now that I'm getting more sexually active. I find my cock gets hard when I'm bossed around in a sexual situation, especially by a younger, smaller kid like young Pete. It's surprising the hell out of me he can pull it off, but so far he has. With a stiff boner between my legs I hustle the lavatory and pull my pants off waiting nervously for him. Pete shows up a few minutes later, gives my bare ass award slap as he's locking the door. Turning around, he says, "Get the rest of those clothes off and bend over with your hands on your knees. Don't talk unless I tell you to and be especially quiet during your spanking." 'Spanking?' I think, then I guess it'll be a little pay back for me smacking his ass when I fucked him earlier today Undressing the rest of the way, including my socks, I get in the position Pete told me to. He takes his time undressing. Then, naked and without hesitating, he wets his hand in the sink and begins smacking my bare ass with his wet hand. I stay bent over with my hands on my knees exactly like he'd instructed and try not to react to the smacks, but they stings like fire. In between smacks Pete fondles my nuts and dick getting me hard again. He goes back to spanking my ass way past what I expected, my boner bouncing off my belly with each new smack on my ass. Pete's smacks are stinging and they don't feel good, but fall just short of being seriously painful. Mostly the spanking causes Pete's and my cocks to stay firmed-up, and that's a revelation to me. In Pete's case his cock has firmed-up to the biggest boner I've ever seen and it swings around as he's swinging his arm spanking me.
After a few minute my ass is beginning to sting uncomfortably, but just when I'm considering complaining, Pete stops the spanking and begins pushing creamy style Vaseline up my hole. It's very soothing and especially nice contrasting with the stinging smacks on my ass. Breathing regularly again and with my ass feeling okay, I want to stroke my boner, but decide I'd better not since Pete was firm about me keeping my hands on my knees. He fingers my hole with one finger, then two fingers, and then three fingers which becomes too tight and a little painful causing me to grunt. It was just a small grunt, but Pete slaps my ass extra hard this time, saying, "No sounds at all, Oliver, please. It ruins the mood for me". Whatever! I suppose this is the so-called rough part of the fuck and that's fine, I just wish I could jack off a bit. The fingering of my hole has me forgetting all about the spanking and it's feeling good now so I start squirming and pushing back on his fingers, and get another smack on my ass. All of a sudden I realized I want Pete to do it; he has me ready and anxious for a fucking. It's that big boner of Pete's, now I really do want to feel that monster inside me. Also, that last smack on my ass hurt , and even though I know it's weird, the thought of another ass smack is kind of sexy. Pete, at the moment, doesn't appear concerned how I feel about things though. He tells me to stay bent over, then he takes his good old time wiping his fingers on paper towels getting the Vaseline residue off. The way he'd put it, in an off-hand manner, "Just stay like you are. I'll tell you when you need to move." My stinging bare ass is cooling off in the air conditioned lavatory as I take a peek behind me from my bent over position and see Pete's impossibly big boner swaying back and forth as he cleans his fingers, and damn, this might not work out too good for me.
Pete continues taking his good old time cleaning his hand and when he's finally satisfied they're clean enough, he roughly grabs hold of my hips, saying, "Get a hold on the sink, Oliver, and stay still." He moves behind me leaning his crotch against my buttocks with that long boner of his pointing down my crack and his almost shaved pubes scratch against my ass. Looking between my legs I see the lower half of Pete's hard, swollen boner pulsating there below my balls. The condom reached only half way up the shaft. My boner's up against my belly, quivering. "Remember, Oliver, I don't want to hear a sound from you." He rubs his big cock long-ways up and down my crack for a minute, moans a little and then backs up and I can't see his cock anymore. I can't see it, but I know it's there and oh my God, all of sudden I feel real fear of that huge cock and I almost say, "Stop", but I don't because I'd look like a wuss. Pete methodically wraps his right leg around my right leg and pulls mine way over to the side spreading me out. The muscle in his calf against my leg is like smooth granite, it's so hard. He could easily have made me fall over by pulling my leg further to the side, his leg's that strong. I feel the hairs on his leg tickling my leg and I move my leg subtly against those hairs, but Pete prevent that, saying, "Keep your leg where I moved it," and a hard stinging slap on my ass follows. I feel another a tingle of fear and a little bit of a sexy thrill too. The deliberate manner Pete's going about everything gives me the sense I'm captured by him, like I almost don't matter by now; it's Pete's show. One second I want it bad, and the next second I don't, but he's created an atmosphere where the only thing that matters is what young Pete wants. I'm breathing fast and my heart's beating fast as I think, 'It won't be long now.'
With my leg out to the side it's lowered my ass and I suppose Pete needs me in this position because he's shorter than me and now, with my hole down in this position, he can drive his cock straight inside me. But first he has to open me up enough to get his log of a cock past my tight ring. He begins pushing his large swollen cock head up against my hole's entrance with firm bumping thrusts. The fingering has softened up the resistance some, but not enough to allow the swollen head of Pete's big boner in. He continues bumping my hole's entrance with the hard head of his boner until my hole loosens-up some more, taking maybe a minute and since my hole is full of creamy Vaseline it opens just enough to allow half of that big cock head to slip inside me about three-quarters of an inch and the pain around my anus is immediately piercing. Pete holds my hips tightly in position and without any hesitation forcefully humps the entire head inside me. I may have blacked-out for a second or so from the intense, searing pain. It's both intensely painful and intensely sexy at the same time. To be used like this by the young mail-room boy who seemingly knows he was hurting me, but doesn't care, is somehow sexy as hell to me. To Pete's credit he does wait a good minute or so with just the head of his cock inside me before proceeding. During that minute he talks quietly while massaged my shoulders. He talks in his low, everyday voice saying things like, "Don't worry Oliver. Now that my big cock head has us bound together you're half way there. Your hole feels pretty good on my boner, nice and tight, and you're gonna get fucked now one way or another, so just resign yourself to taking it and soon enough you'll be experiencing a lot of pleasure." He pushes slightly and his cock head moves a little forward as I clamp my jaws together tightly taking the pain. Pete says, "It scared me hearing Mickey's crys of pain the first time I fucked him, but once I have my cock in a boy's ass, that boy is gonna get fucked. After I've fucked you you'll probably want me to do you again tomorrow too and that's okay, but remember I like it when you do me too. We can take turns, okay?" I grunt, "Yeah, sure." A little more pressure gets his cock head entering new territory, as he goes, "Oh, and I want to thank you for suggesting this; it's just as much fun as I thought it would be. Get ready now."
These are long speeches for Pete, but he's a different person when he's in charge. I give him a short speech, "This really, really hurts," then, in a pathetically wimpy voice, I ask, "You've done this before with your friend, right Pete?" Without answering me he smacks the side of my thigh hard, then in his quiet voice he goes, "No whining! I just told you I've done it with Mickey. Listen up ya little girl!!" and he plows his mammoth cock all the way up my hole. It felt like his cock head is three inches wide and I cry out the whole time he's forcing it all the way up inside me. Up, up, up, and up until I feels like it's touching my lungs. He smacks the sides of my head half-heartedly because I'd made a loud scream while he was impaling me; impaling me with the largest boner I've ever seen. I'm so filled up back there my rectum is stretched to the tearing point and I wish I'd never had this idea of being fucked by Pete. There's no way he's not gonna do this though, I just know that now. He's so in charge it makes me feel helpless; not that it isn't incredibly sexually arousing too. Pete continues his methodical and deliberate way of fucking, and I just know, I absolutely positively know that nothing I say will get him to stop fucking me. It hurts like hell, but at the same time I'm enjoying it tremendously and that confuses me. Yeah, I've been into it right from the spanking at the beginning; enjoying it pretty much right from the start, just like Pete said. Definitely more pain than even I expected, but still ultra hot. I love the way Pete totally took charge, never raising his voice or speaking in a threatening manner, but just confidently in charge of this situation. He always sounds matter of fact, but friendly, and he's dominating me somehow in that same manner. He also seems almost innocent, although he isn't acting innocent. Pete's strange, but somehow exotic at the same time. The pain in my rectum and especial my stretched anus throbs like a living thing while at the same time Pete's cock hits every sensitive spot in my ass. It seems Pete's determined to extract as much hot pleasure as possible for himself, while at the same time giving me the impression he's doing me a favor. A couple of minutes of continual hard, painful thrusting while my hole frantically tries to expand and accommodate Pete's huge cock, and then it all begins feeling better, and then oh so good, like we all knew it would. To be this filled-up, damn, it's something special. Pete does know what he's doing afterall. His fat, long boner touches every part of my rectum, seemingly simultaneously, and it's touching parts that have never been reached before as I begin wreathing with pleasure. Incredible stimulation on my prostate and the feelings of pleasure grow and grow as I lick my lips moaning openly. Glancing at Pete's reflection in the mirror over the sink I see his eyes are lightly closed and there's a confident, determined set to his mouth as his big ponytail flies around his head as he fucks me with wild abandon.
Getting fucked by Pete has nothing to do with love, it's purely for individual sexual pleasure and it's becoming awesome the longer it goes on. My nipples are so hard and pointy they're aching with pleasure. I need to hold tightly onto the sink at all times, especially when Pete bends low down over my back and pile drives his huge cock up into me while all the time holding a handful of my ass cheeks, or holding onto my waist, or cupping both my shoulders to help him pump his huge boner up my ass with extra force, pulling me roughly back at him to hammer his boner inside me with all the power he can muster; each time his crotch smacks into my buttocks it's like a slap. I guess it's all part of the Mickey special fuck, or whatever the hell he called it earlier; it certainly qualifies as a rough fuck, the roughest one I've ever had by a mile and I'm not anxious for it to end any time soon. Hearing myself whimpering with pleasure at the unbelievable sensations flooding the pleasure sensors in my brain, makes me get red in the face but I can't stop doing it. There's electric sizzling in my balls as my cock vibrates, so incredibly hard it's sticking straight out from my body swollen and dripping constantly and I'm praying that my cum load sends me into ecstasy soon because the need to climax has built to a ridiculous level. Then he stops humping my ass and, breathing deeply, catches his breath. He slaps the side of my ass cheek, asking, "You enjoying being fucked by a real cock, Oliver?" Asked in his matter of fact voice, not arrogantly. I embarrass myself by sounding like a wimp, squealing, "Oh yes! Please fuck me harder and faster, Pete." Jesus! Where did that voice come from? He chuckles and begins grinding a circular pattern with his hips like he's trying to get the wall of my rectum stretched, a root rooter movement and his closely cut pubes feel scratchy on my ass cheeks, but feel sexy as hell at the same time. I'm totally under little Pete's control and that realization gets me more aroused. Maybe that's what that tiny-dick kid from Wildwood saw in me, although he couldn't pull it off because his cock is miniature compared to Pete's.
Giving my ass three hard slaps, Pete uses both his hands to grip under my chin pulling my head back roughly, holding me in place, as he starts fucking me for real now. Long, hard thrust up my ass, driving his engorged penis, as hard as stone, further up my ass then seems possible and itching an itch up there that's never been itched before. Fast penetrations. grunting with the effort; he's stretching my neck back towards him while his hips drive his cock inside me, totally dominating me. I'm whimpering as the fantastic sensations travel from my rectum outward to set pleasure sensors all over my body. Dizzy with sexual pleasure, my brain circuits overload, as my whole body's jostling from the hammering of Pete's body against my ass, my cum load fires off and the whole time I'm shooting my cum shots against the lavatory's wall, I'm making sounds like a dog in heat. Embarrassing sounds I can't help barking out. My sphincter muscles tightens around that massive boner of Pete's as my body shudders uncontrollably and my eyes blink rapidly from the sensation of cum shooting up from my nuts, thick creamy spunk stretching my pee slit as it forces it's way out, burning my pee slit from the speed it exits my cock. Cum splashes against the tile wall spraying back on my legs and my shorts that lay crumpled at my ankles. This fantastic orgasm Pete's fucked out of me has me squealing in pleasure as my rectum clutches onto Pete's huge boner massaging itself with this awesome intrusion, me bucking my hips in a frenzy. Pete smacking the side of my ass with his hand as the other hand pulls painfully back on my chin. The spanking goes on all through my orgasm as he chuckles at my humiliating grunts, screams, and squeals. He's riding a bucking bronco now. Pete starts low grunting himself as my climax finally runs dry, the lips of my cock opening and closing as if I'm still climaxing. I'm still clutching the sink to keep from falling and my rectum and anus are still clutching at Pete's cock even though my great climax is over. Getting close to climaxing himself Pete changes his grip on me cupping my shoulders again, a hand on each as he's roughly pulling me back into him for maximum humping leverage of his long, fat cock. Each drive goes fully inside me till his balls swing up and bounces off the back of my scrotum crunching my nuts with each thrust. I'm whimpering pathetically and sweating pretty good too. Pete's sweat spray from his face lands on my back each time his crotch connects with my ass cheeks; each penetration and slap of his crotch against my sore buttocks makes a sound like a wet smack echoing in the lavatory like firecrackers going off.
Still dizzy from the jostling of Pete's humping and the waves of pleasure still flying around my body and brain, I'm beginning to think I've got one last spurt of spunk in my nuts as Pete's cock expands even more inside me and now he becomes frantic with his humping. Making grunting and squealing sounds himself, he blows his large creamy load of teen boy's spunk into that condom and slamming up against me with another muffled grunt his balls fire off another shot enlarging the condom and his cock is so tight inside me I can feel the condom filling up with cum, and another shot as he smacks my ass with each shot of spunk, and then another, and another. I'm guessing he had at least five big shots of cum to fill-up that XXXL condom. Pete humps in and out of me for three or four minutes after his big climax, but without the violence of earlier.
He's going "Ahh...Ahhh...Ahh, Ohh, Ohh," with each thrust up my ass and I don't want him to stop fucking me now that I'm able to take a hand from my death grip on the sink and stroke my cock hoping he'll continue fucking me all afternoon. Pete's exhausted though, and he pulls his long cock out of my hole and it seems to take a while, feeling so good coming out I need bite my lip to keep from further humiliating myself by moaning and whimpering pathetically again. When his huge cock head is at my sphincter ring he stops retracting his boner and humps it all the way back up my rectum with me seeing stars of ecstasy. Then quickly he pulls his boners all the way back out and that still swollen enormous cock head pops out of my hole and, like Pete did this morning, I'm going , "Ohhhhh ohhhh". That fuck really hurt, but really felt good at the same time. Pete's spent and I can see why. He put a great deal of energy into fucking me and I feel grateful, although that's an odd reaction when I think about it because he was mostly interested in his own pleasure. As soon as his cock head popped out of me a lot of cool air rushed up my wide-open hole and that does not feel good.
I reach back there and feel around my ass hole and it's gaping open shockingly. It's also painful, especially my anus and now that pleasure feeling aren't present to go along with the pain, the pain becomes very obvious. Not to Pete though, he takes a deep breath and quietly mumbles, maybe to himself, "Man, that was good!' He's stroking his cock as I straighten up still shocked at how wide open I am back there as my fingers trace around my gaping hole. Pete notices and chuckles, then mutters, "Oh, don't worry about that big opening, Oliver, it'll close up in a while. If I fucked you every day, or even twice a day, it'd probably eventually gap open all the time, but an occasional fuck with my big cock won't have any effect on it, not permanently anyway, like Mickey's hole." Pete's getting dressed as he casually tells me this information about my wide open asshole. I don't say anything because I feel like I'm going to shit myself so I sort of waddled into a toilet stall with Pete chuckling again, mumbling, "Oh, yeah, you'll need to drop a turd after I fuck ya." I plop down just in time to take a dump which hurt like hell coming out. Oh my God, my hole aches like it's broken. When I wipe myself there's some blood on the toilet paper.
I waddle out realizing I need to walk bowlegged to reduce the ache in my ass, and all of these unpleasant factors kind of gang-up on me, taking me by surprise and fuck with my head a little and I let it piss me off and I'm mad at Pete, like it's all his fault. I think 'Never again!' as I stagger getting dressed. Outside I find Pete on the loading dock looking very pleased with himself. He's calmly drinking a Snapple Lemon flavored ice tea and he has one of my cigarettes lit, held loosely in his fingers. There's a bottle of Snapple for me on the dock too. Taking in the whole scene, with a grumpy look on my face, I try walking in my normal way, but the best I can do is sort of a Frankenstein imitation, stiff legged walk as I head for Pete and my Snapple. He's got a bemused, friendly expression on his baby face watching me hobble over to him. He goes, "That's how Mickey walks after I fuck him and he was pissed off at me too the first time, but it wasn't a few fucks later, next day he'd on my front doorstep nagging me to fuck him again." Looking at him it's hard to believe he has a cock large enough to put me in this condition. The thought of sitting down is out of the question. Pete blows a smoke ring, and asks, "Was I right, Oliver? You hoping I'll do you again tomorrow yet?" Then he must have noticed the look on my face because he asks, " You okay?" I give Pete a hard look waving at his smoke ring and I feel my eyes sting as my anger grows. Even though I realize I'm acting like a baby, I ask, "Who said you could have one of my cigarettes? And, you don't have to worry about me begging for another fuck, Pete. I don't want nothing to do with that. You hurt me pretty bad and I'm really disappointed you treated me that way." Pete's shocked and right away gets his own teary eyes. From his point of view he'd done me just like he'd done his friend Mickey any number of times and Mickey never accused him of hurting him on purpose, and that's not what I think either. It's just that I guess I'm humiliated being so totally dominated by little Pete and I acting so wimpy when he was fucking me too.
Pete starts in saying how sorry he is and that he thought I was having a great time. He says I sure sounded like I was in deep pleasure and he asks if I'd ever had a climax like I just had. He's got me there. He points out. "Jeez, Oliver, you were shooting cum so hard and all your moans of pleasure, I thought I was really doing you good. That's what I wanted; to do you really good," as a big fat tear rolls down his cute face and, just like that, I feel like such a dick. I say, "Oh man, I'm so wrong about this. Pete, it's alright, I'm just a little fucked up right now. I made such an ass of myself while you were fucking me, and now I've made another ass of myself for acting mad at you." I give his shoulders a hug and tell him it's just that I'm not use to feeling this way after sex and I don't know why I'm taking it out on him. It's not his fault that I'm such a wimp that I'm walking bowlegged. He needs reassurance that I'm not pissed at him and I realize what a jackass I am for acting like this. Giving him a kiss on his cheek to show him how much I like him, which he tolerates, so I give him one near his mouth and he gives me a shy grin and hugs me around the waist. Anyway, after everything is said and done we're buddies again, but of course, I still have the sorest ass I've ever had. As we're leaving the dock, and just to be saying something, I ask Pete how many times he's fucked Ricky, and he goes, "Um, I'd guess fifty or sixty times." I almost choke then because Pete had said he's been fucked six times and I assumed he'd meant six times combined; being fucked and doing the fucking. It makes me smile that Pete and Mickey think they're straight and just messing around a little bit. If it were six times total I'd still think they were fooling themselves, but sixty time? I can only shake my head and think, 'Holy shit, that Mickey must have a steel asshole.'
Pete goes off to do his mail run, but I don't do anything more on the loading dock the rest of the day; not in the way of lifting anything. Well, except lifting a few cigarettes to smoke and a couple of sodas to drink. Mostly I try taking care of my sore hole. Not doing any work I feel kinda felt like Rocky, a little bit anyway. Yeah, except Rocky can sit down which is something I'd like to do, but don't want to do at the moment. Unfortunately, there's no way to avoid sitting down driving a car so my ride home was not fun. But, by Wednesday morning my hole was feeling sort of okay again. I know Pete had a personal day off today; he told me he needs to have his annual physical at the doctors and a dental check-up too. I wonder what his doctor thinks when he sees Pete's huge penis, haha. Pete needs the physicals in order to play high school sports. He'll be starting his junior year of high school a week before I'll be starting my freshman year at the University of Pennsylvania. Just as well Pete's out for the day because I'm not much interested in fucking or being fucked. A rare day for me in that regard. After work on Wednesday I'm driving to Frankie's house to visit my sick friend. I miss him more than I can tell you and I'm hoping we might be able to swap some spit in his bedroom. During the drive I think some about Pete fucking me and shock myself by discovering, somehow during the day, I'd changed my mine and now I want him to do me again. It's the weirdest thing, but I guess the wide range of sexual stimulation that a huge cock on a young cute kid like Pete can provide has me reconsidering things and thinking the hot parts are indeed worth the pain. Now I know what to expect and I won't have the stupid reaction I had yesterday. Then, as I'm driving along, all of a sudden I think about sucking Pete's huge cock and even about Pete fucking my throat with that gigantic boner of his and these thoughts have me groping myself. Seems like there's magic in a huge cock and I'm beginning to understand why Mickey's nagging Pete to fuck him, and damn, but I really do want to suck Pete's cock and then have him fuck me rough again. The more I think of it the more I want it and my cock's real hard as I stroke it and drive. I can't help wondering if I might be some kind of pervert? I'll ask Christian about that when I see him.
Maybe I'm letting my mind wander all over the place because last night's phone conversation with Frankie has me feeling jittery and uneasy. There was this premonition of disaster hanging around that I couldn't shake. Something about the way Frankie sounded last night or maybe it was his choice of words that bothered me. Hopefully I'm misreading the situation. I'd been very uncomfortable with my sore rear end and I probably misinterpreted Frankie's weak responses about me visiting. I'd expected him to be excited about it and instead I got the impression he was bored or preoccupied or something like that. Worrying about that stuff makes me miss his exit and I need to backtrack, but getting off at the correct exit I find the house quickly. Parking in front of his ranch style house, I'm thinking, 'Which of the houses on either side of Frankie's is Darleen's?' Then I mumble out loud, "Oh fuck, she'll probably be with Frankie and that's the last thing I need." Right there on the passenger seat is my surprise getwell present for him; kind of a gag gift. Frankie has always loved my Mom's lunches and we were always switching lunches so today I skipped lunch altogether so I give Frankie my whole brown bag lunch along with our favorite drink, a bottle of Kiwi-Strawberry Snapple. But, if Darleen's going to be there it will just look stupid, me handing him my bag lunch. It's a personal thing between Frankie and me. Taking a chance I bring the lunch along with me and when I ring the bell a pretty woman answers the door looking like Frankie's older sister, except he doesn't have an older sister. A second look and I realize it's Frankie's mother. She's very young looking and I see who Frankie got his bright red hair from. It looks better on Frankie. She smiles, "You must be Oliver. Oh my, aren't you the cutest thing. Frankie's in the back yard in the chaise lounge sitting in the shade. He said he was getting cabin fever in his room." I thank her and, trying to remember what cabin fever is, follow her through their small house and out the back screen door. She goes, "He's sitting behind that shrub in front of the garage". Frankie's hidden from view and it's the damnest thing, but I feel apprehensive about seeing him.
Frankie's looking over at me when I walk around the flowering shrub; he'd heard the back door slam. The second our eyes meet he gives me the warmest smile I think I've ever gotten from anyone. He looks pale which shows off his bright red hair, and behind his round eyeglasses his dark blue eyes are another contrast between pale and dark. Frankie's rosy red lips and milk white teeth, and his cute nose and chin, and his smile dimples all add up to the perfect picture of a boy. He's shirtless and like me, he has a skinny chest and hairless arms except for a little armpit armpit hair; another splash of red against a pale pink body. It's hot today he's wearing only a pair of cut-off jeans, cut-off way up at the crotch, so his legs look long and thin with perfectly shaped calf muscles and just a sprinkling of short, light hairs on the lower portion of his legs. He looks good enough to eat or at least lick and suck; lick and suck from his big toe to the tip of his flattop red hair. My heart thumps in my chest, heavy and fast. I'm madly in love with Frankie Nerney.
Walking over,smiling back at him as hard as I can, Frankie asks, "Whatcha got there, Oliver?" I hand him my lunch, and he goes, "Thanks, Oliver". He immediately opens the bag and takes out the sandwich, unwraps it grinning, and takes a big bite. With a mouthful of chicken salad sandwich, he says, "This is the best get well present I've ever gotten." Small pieces of chicken fly out from his mouth as he talks. I laugh because everything is over the top with Frankie and I've never seen anybody eat as much and stay so thin. Now my premonition of disaster seems groundless, everything's good between Frankie and me, plus no Darleen either. We talk about work while Frankie eats everything in my lunch bag. As he's finishing the second of two vanilla cup cakes, with a big grin on his face and vanilla icing shining on his teeth, he hold out his hand for the Snapple . When I hand it to him Frankie takes hold of my wrist and pulls me down toward him and he uses his other hand to cup the back of my neck and pull my head down to kiss my mouth, and I share the last taste of that second vanilla cup cake with Frankie. After a thirty second French kiss he goes, "Thanks for my present, Oliver. It was delicious." I look right into his big blue eyes, thinking, 'So are you'. Frankie's closest eyeglass lens is misted over from the heat of our kiss. I need to sit down on the edge of the chaise lounge feeling faint. As I've said any number of times, I never know what to expect from Frankie. I'd almost cum in my pants during that totally unexpected kiss. All I can manage to say is, "Yeah, glad ya liked it," as I try to catch my breath. It's awkward sitting on the edge of his chair so I stumbled up and, to break out of the awkwardness, I ask if we can grab a smoke somewhere. Frankie likes that idea; he hasn't had a smoke in five days. He didn't want his Mom seeing him smoking because her lecture about the evils of cigarettes has been heard by Frankie too many times already. Grunting and holding his right side he stands up, then feels at the back side of his left knee and grimaces as we walked. "Let's go inside the garage, Oliver. We'll sneak a smoke in there like I use to do when I was twelve years old. Ha ha."
Their garage has too much junk in it to park a car there; it's been turned into a storage area. Frankie sits on an old canvas director's chair and quietly groans again. "This fucking incision still hurts like hell," he mutters, extending his left leg straight out away from him and there's something odd about that. I gingerly sit on an unbalanced straight-back kitchen chair needing to stifle my own groan because I don't want to tell Frankie why my ass is sore. We smoke while talking about Frankie's operation. During our second cigarette Frankie gets up gingerly and limps over to stand in front of me as I sit in my wobbly chair. With his cigarette dangling from the side of his mouth and his left eye squinted closed from the smoke, he takes my hand, saying, "Wait till you feel this" and he pushed my hand down inside his cut-offs. He isn't wearing underpants. Surprised, I feel his smooth skin then his cock and balls, and it's all smooth as a baby's bottom. Frankie tells me an old guy at the hospital shaved him before the operation, and the old guy did a lot of dick and nut grabbing while he was at it too. Frankie said it was disgusting, but a nurse had already shot him up with something and he was getting very woozy so he didn't object. I smile because at first I didn't know why he wanted my hand in his pants; it was because he's shaved down there. That made me think of the time, using a pair of scissors, I'd cut most of Frankie's red pubic hairs off so I could locate the splinter he'd gotten from the old loading dock. I'd opened and closed those sharp scissors time and time again, making sure to hold onto his cock and move it clear of my barbering. I'd cut those pubic hairs quickly causing a shower of bright red pubes that blew softly around in the warm breeze with the sun reflecting off of them and making me think, 'How beautiful'. Many of the shorn red pubes settled on my own legs temporarily before blowing off onto the loading dock. I'd cut much more of Frankie's bush than necessary because it became a hot a turn-on for me; so hot my boner had come up fast and hard. Kinda like now as I'm feeling around inside Frankie's shorts.
Frankie's still talking and my hand's still in his pants. He says, "I bet that old bastard sucked me off after I was knocked out. What do you think, Oliver?" I shake my head a little, casually groping my latest boner and gulping at the thought of the two times I sucked Frankie off myself. The old guy was the last thing Frankie remembered until he woke up the next day and he tells me how fast, how surreal the entire experience of the burst appendix and the trip to the hospital, and the operation were. While he's telling me all about it I continue rubbing his crotch area and then I massage his cock and balls, with Frankie grinning down at me. My boner's become painfully stretched in my drawers. Frankie glances down at me again, this time with a mysterious look in his eyes, but he doesn't pull away from me as his big cock starts getting very hard. When he's done his story he takes a drag of his cigarette and then pulls my hand out of his pants. Exhaling a lot of smoke in my face, Frankie mumbles, "I gotta sit down, Oliver. Hope ya don't mind." He sits down slowly on my lap facing me, then wrapping one arm around my neck to pull me in for another kiss, while at the same time taking off his glasses and setting them on a pile of newspapers. I gasped at the added weight on my sore bum, but soon forgot all about that as I smell Frankie's unique natural scent. It gets my heartbeat accelerating dramatically and during his first kiss we both have cigarette smoke in our lungs and, as we kiss it drifts out the corners of our lips. Before one kiss Frankie blows his exhaled smoke into my mouth, I inhaled it and blow that same smoke out my nose. Neither of us says anything, we're use to goofing around with each other doing nutty things.
When our cigarettes are finished we dropped them on the cement floor and really get into our make-out and spit swapping. Frankie keeps his arm tight around my neck and my face pressed tight against his. Our mixed spit soon spreads around our faces and we rub our slippery noses together and lick eack others teeth and tongue and lips and ears and neck. Frankie laps his wet tongue up the hairs at the top of my forehead until they're soaked enough that they stand up in an imitation of the way Frankie's much shorter hairs stand-up on his head. We're grunting like a couple of wild animals and after licking each other's face we go back to the kissing. My balls tighten-up a number of times and I try holding back my orgasm, but I finally can't stop the cum from coming. While I have both arms around Frankie a hard stream of cum shoots from my boner like a strong beer-piss and the rush of intense pleasure gives me the feeling of almost passing out. The rest of my body freezes in place while cum seemingly streams from my balls and boner on it's own making me want to scream with joy. What a sensation it is to spontaneously climax; truly unbelievable, but it leaves me feeling slightly sick to my stomach for a few seconds. I need to take fast, panting breaths as sweat pops out on my forehead and then a wave of shivers and then comes those fantastic after climax sensations moving out from my groin in all directions. While climaxing I made grunting sounds, "Ahhhhhhh," then, "Ump, ump, ohhh, ahhhh, ahhh," and then the feeling of sexual release. Shortly the cum cools to a sticky wetness and soaks through the front of my shorts.
Frankie smiled as I was climaxing, humping my crotch up off the chair, with him sitting on me, as I went through all my moans and shivers of ecstasy. I calm down and he undoes the snap on his cut-offs and pulls my hand to his big dripping boner; staring in his eyes I jerk him off. It doesn't take long before he's shooting a lot of cum between us, most of it ending up on my T shirt all around my chest and belly. Frankie's gasping from his climax, and then groaning in pain from his incision in the very next breath. We both calm down after a bit and Frankie rests his chin on my shoulder and quietly said, "I've been missing you, Oliver." I can't speak yet, so I just nod my head up and down. Frankie slowly gets off my lap and laughs at me again because I'm covered in our cum blasts. Jokingly I go, "How the fuck am I going to walk through your house covered in cum? Look at the front of my pants!." We get into a laugh-a-thon frame of mind with Frankie laughing then groaning from the pain in his side again. I have to believe Frankie's in more pain than he's letting on because I can sense something's off with his laughing, but I can't put my finger on it. Later Frankie digs up an old Pittsburgh Pirates T shirt that I put on. It's much too big for me, but it covers all the wet cum spots. We laugh at how stupid I looked in this old raggedy, extra large T-shirt. After putting his glasses back on Frankie gets serious again, and says, "Lets get some fresh air, Oliver. There's something I need to tell ya," and we wander back outside. I feel good, but still a little apprehensive too. For fun I let myself think about Frankie doing me like Pete did me yesterday. That thought is so sweet it allows me to ignore my feeling of apprehension temporarily. In my mind I tell myself, 'It will happen someday. I just know it will.' I'm referring to Frankie fucking me.
Outside walking back to his lounge chair Frankie has his serious look as he turns to me twice, seemingly like he's going to tell me what's on his mind, but both times he does a small shake of his head and doesn't say anything. Back at his seat behind the flowering shrub, Frankie grimaced and grabs at the back of his knee when he sits. He has a bandage taped on the underside of his knee that I hadn't noticed before, "What happened to the back of your knee, Frankie?" He looks away and again shaking his head slightly. When he looks over at me he has tears in his eyes. Brushing his eyes with the back of his hand, he goes, "I don't want to ruin our reunion, Oliver. It's nothing". He seems so different all of a sudden and I feel fear for a second, so I say, "Please tell me, Frankie. What is it? You're freaking me out." He takes a deep breath and then starts by saying, "You're really the only best friend I can ever remember having, Oliver. I mean except for Darleen all these many, many years. She always claims she's my best friend, and to tell you the truth that's getting pretty old by now. Oh shit, I hate like hell dropping all this dumb stuff on you, Oliver, and worrying you with my problems. I feel I just gotta tell somebody though and I trust you more than anybody else to keep my secrets and, I trust you with everything really." Frankie goes on to tell me, "First off, because of the appendectomy I can't work, so right away Darleen's family assumes I'll be going with them to their summer vacation spot on Friday. It's the same shore spot you went to this summer, Wildwood, New Jersey. They'll stay there right up till the day before we come back to register for our college classes. Oliver, I don't want to go to the shore with them, but I'm going to go anyway for two reasons: one, because I'd hurt their feelings if I don't. And two, because somehow, somewhere, someplace I've got to start breaking the news to Darleen that I don't love her".
Hearing this my eyes open wide. This news about Frankie's feelings for Darleen came out of nowhere and I suck a lot of air into my lungs and then let it out slowly and quietly, trying to digest this latest development. Frankie's oblivious to my reaction, instead he mumbles, "I have no fucking idea how I'm going to go about explaining that to Dartleen of course, but maybe I'll get lucky and something will develop in Wildwood. At the very least I need to lay the ground-work for breaking-up with her. Ya know Oliver, I don't believe I ever loved her." His eyes fill up again, "She's been running my goddamn life for years and I'm sick of it." I nod my head as if I understand and agree with everything he's saying, but it's so unexpected it's like I don't know the right thing to say. From my view-point, this news about Darleen is fabulous and it takes a conscious effort on my part not to break out in a huge smile or maybe a cheer with some applause, but I know better than to do that because it might seem like I'm gloating or piling-on. Frankie's a sweet guy and he wouldn't like me dumping on, or making fun of Darleen right now. Thinking about that I realized I'm still nodding my head even though Frankie stopped talking. He's giving me a funny look so I do a pretend-cough and squint at something over his shoulder as if I was nodding at that. Frankie turns and looks in that direction as I do another pretend cough. The Darleen situation is a major problem for Frankie, but it's a real bright spot in my life. Then, just as I'm secretly feeling really good about life in general and especially life without Darleen, Frankie drops the bombshell on me. He'd given up trying to find what I was nodding at over his shoulder, and looks back at me now to tell me about a very serious and dangerous situation he's in. Darleen's one thing, but this is the kind of problem that makes me remember how life can really suck if you're not very careful, or wicked lucky. Franky hadn't been careful or lucky with this. This one has to do with the money he owes Fallon. Frankie hasn't been able to work for Fallon the past week so he hasn't reduced his debt, and in fact the debt increases because Fallon adds on interest which Frankie calls 'vig', and now that Frankie will be in Wildwood he won't be able to work anything off his debt the rest of the summer either. Frankie says, "I'll owe Fallon over two thousand dollars by the time college starts and it will then start going up five percent each week until I pay him back." I'm thinking, 'You got to be kidding me. This prick charges five recent interest each WEEK?!" Frankie's getting more and more upset with each word and as he continues talking tears begin rolling down his face. I'm totally speechless; I can't remember seeing Frankie cry before. He isn't boo-hooing or anything like that, just the water works, but still very out of character for him so I know there's more to this situation then the vig.
I need to concentrate on what Frankie's telling me because he's speaking in a very low voice, he tells me, "When I called Fallon to tell him I'd had the operation he was pissed off. No chance he'd give a shit about me, he cares only about himself and his money. I hate to think what he'd have made me do if I was with him when I told him. That's when he told me about the weekly vig. He also decided that my debt was getting to what he called the dangerous level. He told I'd need to go out on what he calls dates every one of my college weekends." I ask Frankie, "Dates, what's that mean?" Frankie looks me in the eyes and says, "Go to hotel rooms with queer old men and do whatever they wanted me to do. Fallon said that's the way I can work off the money I owe him. He wasn't suggesting this, he was telling me how it's going to be." Frankie's back to not look me in the eyes, and now I can't look him in the eyes either. I can hardly hear him when he says, "I told Fallon to go fuck himself, which made me feel good at the time, and so did slamming down the phone on him. This happened last night, Oliver, and then fifteen minutes later I got your call and the reality of my situation set in for me so I was upset talking to you. Talking to you made me realize everything was for real and I know how dangerous Fallon is and I was afraid you might be hurt somehow when something bad happened." After pausing to work up the courage to continue, Frankie goes, "Fallon has a vicious temper and I knew he didn't like someone who owes him two thousand dollars telling him to go fuck himself and then slamming the phone down in his ear." Frankie's hand is shaking and he stops talking again momentarily while he sticks his left leg out in front of him again and grunts, "Ow! Dammit! Fuck, that hurts." In a resigned voice he begins slowly talking again as I squirm uncomfortably because it's hard hearing what he's telling me. "That fucking Fallon! Sure enough, the day before yesterday he sent two guys to see me while my parents were at work. These two scum-bags came right in my house and right up to my room. I couldn't believe it! They didn't even ring the bell or knock. Just picked the lock and came in." He hiccups a few times and then says, "Big, ugly, older men smoking cigars. I was petrified. They smacked my face, ripped off my PJs and jerked me around like I was a fucking rag doll. That tore out a few stitches in my incision and hurt like mad. Then the fat one held me down while the other one burned under my leg, behind my knee, with his cigar until I passed-out. Before passing out the fat guy said I was lucky they didn't burn the end of my dick. At the time I was screaming and making noises that didn't sound human so I had nothing to say to that. It was as if the sounds and screams I was making were coming from someone else, and then I passed out. When I came to they said I'd only been out about thirty seconds, but the burn pain was something horrible and I promised to do whatever Fallon wanted me to. Oliver, they were going to keep burning me till I promised."
He told me how he'd put ice on the burn after they left, then disinfectant spray and the bandage, but it still hurts like fire. Frankie's shoulders are shaking now and he's crying silently with lots of tears. I'm shaking like a leaf myself and I feel very afraid for him and for me too I guess, although I'm not sure why I should be afraid for me. Mostly I felt a murderous anger and rage, an iceberg size hate towards Fallon and those sub-human pieces of shit that hurt Frankie. Red rage flashed through me, but I felt impotent and weak at the same time because what can I do to make them pay for this heinous act? Maybe nothing, but all of a sudden I know how I can protect Frankie from future dealings with them. Hugging Frankie's shoulders I tell him, "Fuck them, Frankie. You're not going on any dates with old perverts. Next week I'll be in Seattle with my brother and the first thing I'm doing is asking him to give me the two thousand dollars you need to get Fallon out of your life. Christian is rich, he loves me and he'll give me the money. You can pay my brother back whenever you can. Christian probably won't even want you to pay him back. Don't worry about that fat-fuck Fallon any more, this situation is history and you can consider it's totally taking care of, bro. Okay, Frankie?" We hugged each other real tight, Frankie clinging to me sobbing, but maybe sobbing from relief I imagine. Damn, I wish I were stronger, but I'm real scared seeing him like this, but happy to detect hope in Frankie's voice when he asks, "Really, Oliver? You're sure your brother will give you that much money, Oliver?" It takes some doing but I finally convince him Christian will do anything for me; he's looked out for me my whole life. Even with me reassuring him everything will be okay, it took a while for him to get calmed down and stop crying, then he says, "What I'd really like to do is kill that son of a bitch, Falon. He's made me do things with him that I can't even say out loud. I'm so ashamed and humiliated, I want to kill that motherfucker!"
Frankie sat in his chair, with me standing close by him, and like a little kid he buries his head in my belly. A second later he wraps his arms around my waist and squeezes tightly sobbing again, but this time it's definitely from relief. My arms go around the back of his neck and I kiss the side of his forehead and, through his tears he begins babbling out a long stream of consciousness: "They scared the shit out of me like I've never been scared before and I was resigned to doing whatever Fallon told me to do. Ya know, I couldn't stop shaking when they were in my room, Oliver, and I threw-up twice after they left because the pain of that cigar burning into the soft skin under my knee was so frightening painful, and I could smell my own flesh cooking and, fuck, I didn't know who to go to for help, Oliver. There wasn't anyone. And then you save me and I have hope again. I'm never betting again in my life." He's getting it all out of his system I guess and the tears finally stopped falling. That's when he muttered, almost to himself, "Oh Shit, I feel like such a dork doing all this crying and carrying on. What an asshole I am. I feel like such a cunt crying like this." He looks up into my eyes now and says, "Promise you won't tell the guys at work, Oliver." I wasn't about to tell anybody anything, but I agree with Frankie, I want to kill Fallon and his dirt-bag hired muscle too. What I did instead of murdering anyone, however, was continue hugging Frankie and rubbing his back and running my fingers through his silky red hair. His hair isn't more than an inch long on top but it's so soft I can't help putting the side of my face down on the top of his head feeling so much love for this boy it almost makes me want to start crying myself. After Frankie finally completely ran out of tears, it all of a sudden seemed a bit awkward between the two of us; all that confessing, crying, and hugging. After all, we're nineteen year old boys and a lot of crying in front of each other isn't exactly cool.
After reassuring Frankie again that everything is going to be okay and not that he doesn't need to worry about anything, I head for home. It's almost an hour's drive from here. He says, "I love, um, that is, oh you know. I can't thank you enough, Oliver. This is the miracle I never believed could happen." We wander towards his house so Frankie can show me a way around the hedge to where my car's parked. I don't need to go through his house covered in cum or even wearing this stupid T-shirt. I pull off the T shirt and hand it to Frankie, and as soon as we see my cum stained clothes again we both have a little chuckle, our first one in awhile. Small talk between us now. He tells me Darleen's family used to live in the house on his right, but that they'd moved away a few years ago. He says, "When her father started making big bucks selling insurance they moved on up to a better neighborhood. Thinking back on it, I can't say I was unhappy about it at at the time." Frankie's neighborhood looks fine to me; it looks a little like my family's neighborhood except these are smaller houses. He squeezes the back of my neck, saying, "You have no idea how much you mean to him, Oliver." I go, "Yeah, I do know, Frankie. Better than you, probably." I make it sound kind of like a joke and we chuckle again. He says, "Oh, by the way, thanks for your note on that corny get-well card Rocky sent me, and I love ya right back, dude." I feel my eyes stinging so, before I tear up I smile and rub Frankie's bright red hair one last time, then get in the Mini. Frankie says, "You saved me, Oliver, just when I thought I was lost and my life was heading to shitsville, you saved me. My thanks aren't enough, but they're all I got right now." I'm choking up so I force another smile, and mumble, "You're welcome, see ya soon, Frankie," and pull slowly away waving goodbye, then a toot from my horn just for the hell of it.
Feeling proud of myself; thinking I'm Frankie's hero for saving him from Fallon's clutches. Well, it's Christian who's actually saving him, but it will be through me. What a wonderful feeling to help the one you love. Also, I'd felt Frankie's love too, so I'm feeling cool, like I usually do driving this hot Mini Cooper S convertible. Frankie and me made plans to meet at his school, West Chester University, and I'll give him the money from Christian to pay off Fallon. It'll be at his school because I have the car. Maybe I'd stay over, we'll see how things shake out. That's ten days from now so I won't see him for ten whole days, but I guess I better get use to not seeing him for at least a couple of weeks at a time because we'll be living at different colleges and it's uncertain how often I'll be able to make the trip up from the city to see him. We both understand that, but we're not happy about it. During the rest of the ride home I basked in the knowledge that Frankie's beginning the process of dumping Darleen. The way she's been manipulating his life amounts to emotional blackmail. She doesn't deserve Frankie, not even a little bit of him. One minute I'd be feeling giddy just thinking about Frankie dumping her and the next minute my balls would shrivel-up with fear from thinking about those perverts burning Frankie's leg with a cigar. It's very scary that there really are deadly dangerous people living in our world, and to discover out how easy it is to make a mistake can get you in over your head, and come face to face with these very people.
Frankie calls me later that night obviously looking for more reassurance that I'd be able to get the money from Christian. He doesn't come out and say it, but it's obvious that's what he's doing and I don't blame him. The thought of those two thugs returning has Frankie scared to death. I do everything I can to put his mind at ease and by the time we end our conversation he's calmer and even a little cocky about what he's going to say when he throws that money at Fallon. I like that, Frankie acting cocky again I mean. I'm a little out of sorts when I arrived at work on Thursday. Frankie's was in my dreams, and so was Fallon and the sickos. Not a good night's sleep. Pete's back to work after his day off and seeing his cute face and tight little body first thing in the morning helps brighten my outlook quite a bit and reminds me my ass it still a little tender. He's real bubbly and as I run my fingers through his thick curly hair for good luck, he whispers excitedly, "Ya want me to do another Mickey special on your ass, Oliver?" No one's in our area except us two so I wrap my arm around his neck and pulled his face over for a kiss. A kiss on his cheek and a kiss on his lips too, I didn't much care anymore 'cause it's our last two days here. I say, "I know you don't like kissing, but you're very kissable and so it's kind of your fault that I can't control myself." Then I kiss him again. Pete's docile, he isn't pulling away or trying to avoid my lips. He said, "I don't mind you kissing me anymore, Oliver. It's okay when you do it now; I've changed my mind about that. Do ya want my special fuck, Dylan?" I let go of his head and say, "I do, but lets do it tomorrow because my hole's still sore. How 'bout I feel your tight hole around my little boner again, hotstuff? Would that be okay for today?" He goes, "Sure, Mickey learned to take it once he got used to it and then, like I told ya, he couldn't get enough. Morning break?" And, morning break it is. My hole isn't feeling all that sore, but taking one more day to recover completely from Pete's Mickey special fuck seems like a prudent thing to do, and I want to enjoy fucking Pete again. He's ready to enjoyed it either way it seems. We have ourselves a real nice quickie in the morning and an even nicer one at afternoon break. I'm doing better with my rough stuff apparently because Pete, after the morning fuck told me, "That was awesome rough sex, Oliver. You do me almost as good as Mickey." Hey, I'm proud of myself and that encourages me into giving it to him even harder in the afternoon. He squealed out when he shot off and it's a nice feeling of accomplishment for me. I'm getting close to outperforming this Mickey character, plus giving Pete something to think about when I'm gone. These thoughts made me ask Pete, "What's Mickey like anyway?" Pete says, "Oh, nothing unusual, he's just a regular thirteen year old, except I guess he is pretty small for his age." I gasped and inhale some spit down my windpipe and have a hell of a time harking it up. Just the thought, 'Holy shit, Pete's ramming that boner of his up an under-sized thirteen year old? God help them both'. Plus, Pete says I almost do him as good as thirteen year old Mickey? What the fuck?! Then I get to laughing out loud at how ridiculous this situation is. Plus, how hot those naive kids are too, and how lucky they are as well. Me coughing and laughing gets Pete joining in with the laughing, although he doesn't have a clue what we're laughing about. It's all helping me keep my mind off Frankie and the horror of Fallon.
Unfortunately, Thursday turns out to be the last day of this year's Pete and Oliver's sex orgy. We didn't know it; it's a surprise for us summer part timers that Friday's to be nothing more than a barbecue cookout day in the company's parking lot. A farewell to the summer staff, me and thirty-five others. They're too many people milling around all day for Pete and me to feel comfortable sneaking in a fuck and I really wanted to feel Pete's huge cock up my ass again, but on the plus side all the summer staff receive a two hundred dollars bonus. Pete and me say our goodbyes without any real emotion. We like each other a lot, but it's just buddy stuff. He claims it was wicked good fun having sex in the lavatory and he can't wait till next year. Like me he's very disappointed he couldn't do a the special fuck on me once more and I tell him, "I'm sorry too, but next summer for sure, Pete." He's a fun, fun, fun sex buddy and I feel pretty good sex wise after our week of fucking together. Pete's really been what I needed when I needed it the most too. I only hope he had as much fun as I did. He said he did. I haven't been this sexually satisfied since that second week in Wildwood at the beginning of the summer during that hot time with Alexander. All it takes is a week of every day fucking to put me at ease and get me feeling fine. Everyone's very nice to me saying their goodbyes at work and Rocky assured me I have an automatic spot on the loading dock team next summer, with Mr Brittle adding, "Frankie, I don't believe I've ever heard of anyone recovering from an operation as fast as you did. That shows what a loyal employee you are." I thanked him and smiled at Rocky as Rocky shakes his head and grins. In the end I wouldn't have hated the job even if Frankie hadn't been there because most of the people were great, but Frankie being there made it a very, very special experience for me; one I'll always remember and I hope ten years from now Frankie and me are remembering our first summer, still together as lovers.
At home I call Frankie hoping he hadn't left for Wildwood yet, but his mom tells me he left a couple hours ago and he seemed in much better spirits after my visit Wednesday so she thanked me, "Whatever it was you said to Frankie, it sure made him happy." I could call Frankie's cell phone, but it might be awkward for him to talk with Darleen and her family in the car with him. After that, my thoughts turn to Seattle, Washington. I've never flown before and it's exciting thinking about it. Christian left me a voucher for a first class ticket and I've already exchanged it for a round trip ticket, so that's going to make it extra fun; you know, flying first class pretending to be important or rich or something. My parents aren't happy that I'm making it a surprise visit; they wanted me to tell him ahead of time that I was coming, but I made them promise not to ruin my surprise and I expect he'll make a big fuss over me. We're closer than most brothers. We also are probably more affectionate toward each other than most brothers too, but we've been through hell together. Christian's the main reason I managed to survive the death of my best friend and getting me through the guilt I had from being partially responsible for my friend's death too. So, Christian and I have been kissing brothers much of my younger life. Big deal, that's just the way we are. I kept packing and then unpacking because I change my mind about what I wanted to take on the trip. In the end I take basic casual clothes and my toiletries. Dad said I wouldn't even have to check a suitcase, just put my carry-on bag in the overhead storage. Christian can buy be a sport coat if he wants to take me to a fancy restaurant or something like that. I'm excited and anxious to see him and I know at times I can get too mushy with how much he means to me and how much I love him and all, but it is what it is. Mostly I'm just wicked excited about seeing him tomorrow!
My plane takes off on time the next afternoon from Pittsburgh Airport. Because of the time change I'll get in Seattle around six o'clock in the evening. I'm taking a chance that Christian doesn't have plans to go out tonight, or worse that he'll already be out. If he's out I have a key to his condo and I'll let myself in and do some snooping around. Jeez, this is going to be such a blast. Naturally my number one priority now is getting the money for Frankie, but my number two priority is important too. I'm very anxious to 'come out' to Christian; telling him I'm gay and happy to be so. After that I want to tell Christian about me and Frankie and see what advise he can give me. Jesus, I'm wicked excited, but wicked nervous about the other stuff at the same time. Naturally my mom and dad both had to come to see me off and it makes me feel like a little kid, but as it turns out I'm glad they were with me. Inside the airline terminal it's bedlam. Jesus Christ, after going through security the line for the airlines zig-zagged forever up to the check-in counters, but my dad already told me to look for the first class check in, not the coach line. There's one line with two people in it and the sign at the counter read, FIRST CLASS PASSENGERS. "Yeah, that's me." It was so cool sauntering past all the 'regular' passengers who had been here way ahead of me and getting my 'boarding pass' and casually heading over to get a snack. I'm finally on my own and it's exciting, just like I thought it would be although I have that nervouse feeling in my stomach. The one I get when I'm doing something for the first time. I soon discover that first class passengers boarded the plane first too. The plane ride was long, but very comfortable. Big seats and the cabin attendants were polite. My attendant was a middle aged man who acted very affected and I think he's almost certainly gay. Our eyes met for a second and I had the feeling he knew I was gay too, even though I can't imagine how he would. The food's not special at all and the movie sucked, so everything wasn't perfect. I fell asleep after eating, and didn't wake-up until the plane bumped down on the runway in Seattle, Washington. My heart goes thump, thump, thump with anticipation.
In Seattle now, so all I had to do is get myself to Christian's condo, which is located almost an hour's drive from the airport; I know how to do that too. Christian sent me a limo voucher from the company he works for that I simply hand it to the Seattle limo driver and tell him the address. Simple as that. Now, how to find the Seattle limo driver to give the voucher to....hmmmmm? Ask somebody, dummy. That's what I finally need to do and in a short time I'm feeling wicked cool sitting in the back of a stretch limo with people referring to me as "Sir". Hot shit! This is fun! It's raining but I don't get wet until the limo driver drops me off right in front of Christians's condo. All the condos have their own private entrances off the street. They look like a block long row of attached, narrow, three-story homes with brick fronts and decorative black shutters on either side of the windows. There's a fancy looking black wrought iron fence separating each small front yard. Big heavy looking front doors with over-sized brass fixtures. It all was very expensive looking with manicured lawns and gardens and the street lamps lighting up the brick side walks are brand new, but look like they're gas lamps from the seventeenth century. I hustle up the short front walk and ring the bell at number 707. Almost immediately the door open and the top of a man's head peak around from behind the door. Then the rest of his head, and he says, "Oh my God! Come in boy, hurry up and get in here before you get soaked. You know you're early, don't you?" I'd never laid eyes on this man before in my life, but it's definitely Christian's address so maybe this guy's a co-worker or a friend. I step inside and the man closes the large front door. I'm standing on an Oriental rug in a big foyer with a huge chandelier hanging from about twenty feet above my head. A wide staircase directly ahead of me.
The man stands in front of me with his hands on his hips. He's about six feet, six inches tall, very big and very muscular, like a body builder, except with a lot of body hair. He's barefoot, wearing only a leather thong. The hair on his head is shaved like a Marine in bootcamp and he has piercings in each nipple, and in each earlobe, and on the side of each nostril. I stare with my mouth hanging open. He turns his head and call up the stairs, "You're going to owe Felix a big tip for sending us this one, Chrisy! This chicken is choice, he's right up your alley too." I go, "Huh?" as I hear my brother's voice shout back, "He's really early. Do you want to get him undressed Daddy and you do him first while I take my shower, or do you want me to skip my shower?." I start stuttering, "Wha, wa wha...what, wo wo who???"
to be continued........ Chapter 10 (Christian and me) Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com
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