"Over the Backyard Fence"
Part 5
jbalancier9@yahoo.com
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Part 5
Living on Grove Street would be dull for most people. Admitting, we found it a bit empty ourselves, is just being truthful. Growing up and having Clifford as my soul mate made Grove Street home.
Amtrak travelled through the Hudson Valley several times daily stopping at Rhinebeck. It was nothing for one or both of us, to take the train to Manhattan. It was a short eighty-mile ride, every time we traveled to New York for no particular reason.
"Did you ever meet my cousin James? He is the gay know it all' who lives in Harlem. He is a bit out there' and sort of queenie. I must have mentioned him," said James, grabbing a cold beer from the fridge. "Want a brew." He said
"No maybe later; what about James?" I asked
"I am letting him borrow some cash and I am dropping it off at his place on Sunday. Do you want to go with me? I'll treat for dinner in Harlem, but no kissing in the restaurant," Cliff said laughing, as if I would ever do such a thing in public.
"Sure, I'll go but we have to paint the fence post first. Your mom doesn't like it not painted." I said
"You have three freakin days – go paint it," said Cliff chugging beer from the can.
"You are not listening bro. I said - your mom...your side...your post...needs painting. It will get painted, but WE are going to do it together." I told him firmly but sweet.
"I know, didn't I just say that that?" mumbled Cliff wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Wanna fool around?" he asked
"NO – I mean YES, but not right now." I said. "I'll take that beer now." "You ain't fuckin helpless, open the damn fridge door and grab hold." Clifford replied then quickly did it for me.
"Here you go handsome. I take care of my man, and I am going to do that painting right now. "See - I got me a roller, a brush and the paint is sitting by the fence."
"I will help," I said
"Nope – no need. You just sit there sipping your beer and wishing it was something else running over your tongue."
We went outside where I plunked myself on a lounge chair and Cliff began painting the fence post. He was a marvelous showman. I thought he was a good actor, with quick comebacks and sexy reactions to just about any subject.
"You watch my painting technique and the way my dick moves up and down with every stroke." He said being playful. Everything we talked about got around to `nasty."
"Jackass" I mumbled
"Later studly, you can have some `ass' later." He blurted out laughing at his own comeback.
"There you go...see what I mean..."nasty?"
Clifford finished the fence post and then straddled my chest with his crotch buried in my neck. "Want some," he said pushing his bulging crotch in my face.
"We do have time to get off before anyone gets home, so I say..."SURE - Let's go for it"
Cliff followed me inside the house on way to the bedroom, but tackled me in the kitchen and I landed on top of the work counter. He held me down grabbing my junk unzipping my pants, and nibbling my neck, all at the same time.
"What the fuck?...I started to say but stopped right there.
Cliff was always a bonus and nothing he did surprised me. He shocked me some time, but no surprises when it came to his behavior. My dick was in his mouth, between those thick pinkish brown lips putting me in a very special place. He purred using lips designed with my flesh in mind.
I sensed that getting cum was what he wanted this time. I am sure you know how that works when a man driven by confidence likes cock.
This happens when thoughts kick into overdrive thinking about what is between ones legs. Cliff calls it slutty – I call it horny and available.
What is a player to do, other than lie back and benefit from being with somebody you care about more than almost anything?
I become an oil slick out of control once the sucking begins and especially good at being bad. It made youth remarkably exciting; something I tell myself often. Now I am bad in a grown up way and loving it. It is a flaw in my character; but I can deal with it.
Clifford had no sooner swallowed cum, when a car pulled into the driveway. The folks were home. I hopped off the counter and Cliff ran upstairs to shower.
I stayed alone, wiping the counter with a sponge and pretending I was working in the kitchen. It was time to get real, so I went out to help with the packages.
"The fence looks lovely," said my mom, shutting the car door. "Did you paint it?"
"Nope, Cliff painted it and he is upstairs taking a shower." I said "Well, it's lovely," she repeated
"Yes indeed," chimed in Esther Beekman, Clifford's mom." It looks beautiful from this side too."
The next few days flew by and there was no more conversation about the fence. Finally, everybody could stop talking about it.
Sunday morning when the train stopped in Rhinebeck, on route to NYC, Cliff and I were at the train station drinking coffee out of Styrofoam cups dressed like gadabouts going to the city on holiday. I admittedly say, that traveling to the `Big Apple' was never a dull moment.
Harlem was not foreign to me at all. I had been there to the Apollo Theatre and to Amy Ruth's soul food restaurant on 116th street. I did not want Cliff to know everyplace I had been; so I didn't mention it.
This however, is the first time I walked the streets in Harlem with a black boyfriend. Of course, I wanted to fit in being a cracker dude.
There was music, and people laughing and talking, that one could hear standing in the hallway of James's apartment building.
When Clifford's cousin James, opened the door to his Harlem flat, Clifford surprised him by shouting out – "Show me the bracelets, Wonder Woman." James screamed, laughing and hugging Cliff. "YESSS, damn it – yesss."
"Drag your sorry butts in here – no need to be letting the neighbors know everything. Then James threw back his head and laughed like Cher. "I've got you babe, he babbled."
"“Come in – come in, close the damn door, everybody is gay "said James for the second time.
Oh brother –what idiots," I mumbled quietly so no one could hear, not even Cliff.
Clifford introduced me as his playful boyfriend. It brought laughter, which softened the mood considerably. That was when his cousin James interrupted.
"Wait - are you sayin this fine strappin young thing is Tom."
"That's me all day," I replied, trying to be like everybody else.
"I can see you are... oh yesss, you are fine. I'm crazy James, Cliff's gay cousin."
"I can tell you are," I replied leaving it right there. I wasn't about to call him `crazy'.
James plus several other black men was drinking, listening to music, eating and smoking weed. Two people were smoking the others were drinking and shoving down food. Hands were flying, napkins dropping on the floor and clothes strewed about everywhere. It was party time. One black brother was wearing a Marilyn Monroe blond wig. It was frightening, but funny as hell and meant to be just that –"FUNNY"
I looked at Cliff trying not to break out in a giggle. It is not that his cousin's party was a fairy tale gone wild; it was just, the entire scene was unfamiliar to me coming from a dull life on a dull street in a dull town. I liked the party's gayness though, I really did.
Becoming adjusted happened quickly because twenty minutes later, I was singing and dancing like Mary Poppins in the meadow. I did not smoke weed, but the beer was good and the men were silly and hot. It was a room filled with fine booty and some impressive chocolate cock.
"The brothers in here for some festivity are my bros," said James, looking about the room.
He pointed..."this is Joseph, Marcel, Harris, Roderick and the nigga coming from the kitchen is Terrell. There are two more brothers in the bed room doin something nasty." James concluded, "So fuck `them"
"Terrell, this is Tom," said James
"Indeed it is... man you can catch a few rays, on my deck anytime," said Terrell, chewing on a chicken wing and sticking out boney fingers for grabbing my hand.
"Works for me," I replied not knowing what he was talking about, as we shook hands.
"Maybe we should find a quiet little corner and you can tell me about yourself," suggested Terrell
"I wouldn't know what to say that would interest you," I said
"Tell me what would make you happy," quizzed Terrell, getting closer all the time.
"Do you like black queers?" asked Terrell straight out. Baby, we may be gay, but you ain't seen nothing yet when it comes to lovin on the vine,"
"Of course, but saying "black queers" seem a bit harsh. Why put a color label on the question?" I asked trying to be respectful.
"It's not a label faggot – shit, you are in Harlem. What would you expect me to say talking about these fucked up cocksuckers. This ain't no church"
"Okay, that's a fair comment. Yes, I like black men. I grew up liking black men, my best friend is black and the man I worship is that chocolate fucker over there," I answered pointing to Clifford. Does that answer your dumb-ass question?" I said
"Damn straight it does. How bout we use the bedroom over there and talk bout it some more?" said Terrell
"I don't think so," piped in Clifford who was quiet until now. "Fuck off bro," he barked sounding harsh and determined not to be corrected.
"Excussse me, Miss Thing," said Terrell and walked away to grab another beer. Fuck em," he mumbled
"Faggots," mumble Clifford getting next to me sitting on the sofa.
His cousin James sat across from us and we chatted as if no one else was in the room. Cliff noticed everything, including James eyeing my bulging crotch. I didn't do anything on purpose to make it look that way, the form fitting pants did it for me.
My dick rested like a sleeping frog between my legs. One did not have to be a mind reader to know what James was thinking. I liked getting the attention, but Clifford did not.
"I don't like these niggars checkin you out." Cliff said quietly to me, as not to offend anybody.
"I thought they would have more of a cracker attitude, but after checkin your booty, my nig----, (I mean) brothers want to fuck that ass. You know how black people can fuck. I know you do," continued Cliff still looking around the room.
"I don't see that at all, except for Terrell. We are having fun, don't talk that way," I said trying to be agreeable
"Is there somebody here you want to be with?" asked Cliff
"Besides you?" I asked
"Yes damn it – besides me, I want to know," he exclaimed
"All of them" I replied popping a potato chip in my mouth. I was joking of course, but Clifford took it as gospel and not a good thing to say.
"That's not going to happen. I didn't bring you here to be a `ho' for a bunch of cock playing brothers."
"I snuggled closer to Clifford. "Damn straight that is not going to happen." I said concurring with him. We are just having fun.
"I'll talk to James, loan him some Jefferson's, then we can get the hell out of here," Said Cliff
"Okay"
"Damn straight – okay," mumbled Cliff disappearing into the kitchen to mingle with his cousin.
It took longer than I thought. I have no idea what they were talking about and did not care to know. Clifford was his own man and what he did with his time and money was of no concern to me.
I waited for Cliff to return sandwiched in between four black bros, moving and pressing packaged bulges into me creating a lust that I never thought existed.
It affected me mentally in the worse way. I wanted to suck chocolate cock and be fucked by all these flamboyant black men with big dicks.
I felt energized and talking monumental nasty like the beast, I wanted to be. I couldn't let Cliff know I felt this way. We were small town lovers and I didn't want to risk anything.
Looking at Cliff I realized he was the ideal black person. He is my brother in the most genuine way. We are so much a part of one another, even sharing our parents as one together family.
For us, it was comfortable because this is who we are. We never see color. We joke about it, but that is it, – "A joke."
Easy is easy having the best there is. My nasty thoughts disappeared vanishing like dust when Cliff returned.
He put his arm around me. We needed to be somewhere else and I could see it clearly now. Clifford was right.
Clifford, said to me. "Don't forget Tom, we have more stops to make today."
"That's right, and we should get moving." I agreed, adding to the fabrication.
"I began shaking hands with everybody and getting a little squeeze here and there. James touched my butt and said, "Come back anytime sugar; maybe I should call you and we can plan a get together."
"Maybe you shouldn't plan anything," said Clifford.
James laughed. "I am just being neighborly," and gave Clifford a brotherly hug. "Call me captain obvious," he said
"You are obvious alright," added Clifford. "Don't be putting the moves on anything that belongs to me," he said. It felt strange, this has never happened before.
It was amazing how fast we got out of there and back to the street.
"They were cool," I said, stopping for the traffic to pass when the light turned green.
"A-huh"
"Seriously, Terrell is a good looking guy, with a cushion butt." I added
"A-huh" Clifford said again
"Your cousin, James, is cool," I also said watching Cliff's facial reaction..."
"A-huh - no, no, no, you don't want to be saying that."
"Is that all you can say - A-huh? - OMG are you jealous?"
"Where are we going?" asked Clifford, not commenting on the jealous remark.
"It doesn't matter where we go, you decide. I'll go anywhere," I answered touching Cal's arm, with a little squeeze.
"Tell me something," I said
"Tell you what?" replied Cliff
"C'mon, tell me – you know `what'...I keep repeating
"Of course I care," Clifford finally admitted. "I care a lot; there, you happy now?" He said
I didn't reply with words only a direct look. He smiled looking back at me and everything was good again.
At 125th street, the subway doors slid open and we sat across from one another. Clifford finally moved next to me, as people got off and seats became available.
"Where do you want to have dinner?" he asked
"You decide, but I am paying," I said trying to get back to the brotherly mood that belonged to us.
"I'm afraid you will have to get the check. James has all my cash, but we can use my visa card."
"Nope" I mumbled, "we'll use mine."
At a flower vendor on the street, I stopped and bought a single Bachelor Button then pinned it to Clifford's shirt.
"What's this?" said Cliff "You want me wearing a blue gay flower?"
"It's not a gay flower – it's magic.
"Solid," said Clifford
"Yup," I replied straightening the flower on Cal's shirt. There, you just went from fancy-free to lucky-me," I said
"What's this `fancy free shit." What the hell, are you talking about?" He questioned with a puzzled look.
"I am being romantic."
"You are being crazy, watchin too much TV; but I will wear the damn flower.
Blue is my color - It's cool," continued Cliff with the Gibson smile once more on his face.
jbalancier9@yahoo.com