The Problem with Milo

The Problem With Milo Chapter 6

Warning!  This story is a work of fiction. Any similarity between the fictional characters and any live person is purely coincidental. This story contains fictional descriptions of sexual activity between consenting minor youth. If you are under the age of 18, and/or if you are offended by this content, and/or if it is illegal in your jurisdiction to possess or read such material, please leave now.

All rights reserved. No part of this story may be transmitted or reproduced in whole or in part in any form or by any means, mechanical or electronic, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the Author or Publisher, except where permitted by law. Copyright (c) 2015 by Flip McHooter.

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Chapter 6

"Okay, boy. Settle down now. Let me pull up my shorts, and I'll get to you in a second, I promise," I said. "Damn, Milo, that was so fucking outrageous. I hope I can do that good a job on your dick as you did on mine. Shit, dude. Are you sure you've never done that before? I mean, oh man, that was like epic squared!"

"No, I swear. Never. That was good, wasn't it? Dude, you squirmed around like a crazy man. I thought you were going to shoot through your sunroof."

"I know. I was about to. So if you never sucked dick before, how did you learn to do such an outrageous job? I mean, damn!"

"It wasn't that good. But yeah, I've been watching a lot of porn the last few weeks, like I said, pretending it was you and me. YouTube even has some non-X-rated vids to help a guy out. I also read some of those super-sexy stories on a couple of gay websites, and...um...well, you want full disclosure?"

"Yeah, I'd like that. That's cool that we can be honest with each other like this. I feel like we're adults now."

"I agree. So here's the thing: you can't laugh," he said seriously.

"Why would I laugh?"

"I don't know," Milo trailed off, lost in his thoughts for a second. "Because it's weird. And I don't want you to be mad."

"All right. I promise," I said, as I mopped up some of my wayward wad off my chest that was starting to get cold and runny, and started working on getting my clothes together.

"Well, remember those dildos I was telling you about? I pretended that one of them was you, and I practiced with it. A lot!"

"Really? Wow. That's, um...shit, I don't know," I laughed, trying to figure out what that meant. "I hope you didn't name one of them Mason, you know, like, put a piece of tape with my name on it or something. I guess pretending it was me was a good thing, right?" But I wasn't a hundred percent sure.

"Yeah, it is. Um...well, truth be told, I did name one after you. Don't freak. The one I named after you vibrates on your frequency," he giggled. I couldn't tell if he was fucking with me, or if he was serious. I totally liked that about him: He could mess with me too, tit-for-tat.

"Damn, dude. That's totally weird. Did you name them all? And what in the hell is my frequency anyway?"

"101.7. Surf Stud. From The Ranch to Mussel Shoals."

"Seriously? You're messing with me, right?"

"Yeah, maybe a little. I listen to that station sometimes. Anyway, I used it on both ends," he giggled shyly. "Don't be mad."

"Wow. That's...I don't know. But, no dude, I'm not mad. Why would I be? Freaked, maybe. And kinda flattered? It's sorta strange, I guess. I can kind of picture you doing that, for some odd reason. You're so weird. Dude. You weren't like, stalking me or something, were you? Following me around everywhere the last few weeks?"

"NO! Oh shit, no. Nothing like that. I'd never do anything like that."

"Cool. Don't think I could hang with that."

"Me either. Here's the deal. I started seriously thinking about you when school started a few weeks ago, since the first day we sat next to each other in class. Because I'm all the way in the back corner, I had to look your way to see Mrs. Sturdevant and her spider-writing on the whiteboard," he said, stopping to take a breath and wipe his shiny forehead off with a napkin. "See, even though I've been out to my sister for a little bit now, I've never wanted to do anything sexy with a guy before, until I spotted you. Guess I wasn't ready or something. Scared maybe."

"Yeah, me too. I can understand that. I was planning on waiting until college because it seemed simpler. But don't you get tempted to do something with anybody else? I mean, what about all your boys back in the locker room? You get to see them running around naked all the time, right?" I asked.

"Well, yeah, sometimes. Anyway you can't do that in there. Not if you want to live, and keep your balls intact. You're thinking of the guys on the swim team. They do it all the time, since they're practically naked anyway. A friend of a friend on the water polo team told me about those guys. For a minute, I considered trying out for swimming," he giggled. "I love baseball too much, though."

"Trust me. You wouldn't like it. I tried out for swimming freshman year. There was too much kicking in the cajones, toes trying to pull down your Speedos, and sometimes, like in water polo, the older guys got grabby with us newbies, squeezing our nuts. I got tired of it and decided I didn't want any part of that shit. Coach got super-pissed at me when I told him, because I was one of his best new swimmers. I didn't care no matter how hard he tried to keep me. I finally had to tell him to get lost."

"Wow. You got some serious balls talking like that to a coach. Especially as a freshman. But yeah, I wouldn't be cool with that either. I'd probably get kicked out of school for punching some idiot if he did that to me. Anyway, I sometimes get a glimpse here and there of some of the naked guys on my team, and to be truthful, nobody interested me the way you do. Even when Heath, the JV pitcher, shaved off his pits and pubes last year and was the talk of the locker room. He did nothing for me, though. It's strange. Like, from the first day of school, I felt this magnetic attraction to you. I don't know why. Anyway I'm glad, and it seems to be working."

"I know. It is weird," I said.

"Yeah, it is. Seriously though, I like it."

"No shit! I like it too," I agreed. "Today has been totally awesome."

"Want to hear something else that's weird?" he asked.

"Sure. Spill it."

"Well, you know that mole that's right above your pubes?"

"Yeah, what about it?" I asked.

"I have one, too. In the exact same spot," Milo announced.

"Oh, yeah?" I had forgotten about that.

"Yeah. Here, look. I'll show you." Milo unbuckled his canvas belt and the silver buttons to his dusky jeans. In one quick flash of movement, he hooked his thumbs underneath his pants and underwear and pulled everything down to his knees revealing all of his business for the night to see. After moving his boner to the side, he said, "Check this out. See? Right here."

"Oh yeah. I see. That's f'n weird, dude. Yours looks like a mole and mine looks more like a freckle. You messing with me?"

"Maybe. But look! Now I'm naked," he cracked.

"Damn, dude! Horny much? Okay, well here goes. Um...wait a sec," I said, as I positioned my fist around his burning cock. "Just so you know, I don't have a set of dildos at home to practice on, so I've never done this before. Or even with a banana for that matter. If I start doing something wrong, or my teeth get in the way, or something, let me know, okay?"

"Oh, yeah. No worries."

"Awesome. Okay, get ready. Here goes." I settled in and gripped his hard cock in the palm of my hand, and bent it towards my face so I could get a close-up view in the soft dash light. It was great looking and I wanted to stare at it and make a mental image. It was exactly the right size – not too big and not too small – and it had the stretchiest, coolest looking foreskin. I took a minute to see how all that extra skin worked, pulling it up so it covered the tip of his spongy, carmine-colored head, and then pulling it back down under the glans. I wasn't sure what to expect, but it was cool and sexy, and I wished I hadn't been butchered when I was a baby. "Dude. You're lucky to have this. If I had foreskin, I'd probably be playing with it all the time."

"I know. I do it a lot, even when I was younger. I used to see how many dimes and nickels I could get in there," he said, giggling a little.

"You are so whack."

"I know. I can't help it."

"So I gather." I said. No sooner had I opened my mouth and started to stick my tongue out for my first taste of Milo's raging boner, he said, "Fuck. There's a car coming. You better get up."

"What? Now what? What the fuck?"

"Get up!" he hissed.

"Why are you so worried? There's plenty of room to park around here. Don't tell me now that coming up here wasn't a good idea."

"No, it's not that. It's just that it could be a cop, or somebody we know, like from school or something, and I wouldn't want them to catch me with my dick on your lips. Sitting here and eating burgers and fries is one thing, but getting caught trading blowjobs is another. No offense, Mase, everybody at school knows your car, and it is kind of low to the ground. It wouldn't take much for someone to look inside and see what we're doing. Hold on until they drive on by."

"Okay. Guess you're right," I said, calming down.

"I'm sure it's nothing, Mase. I don't know about this stuff – doing these sort of things outdoors like this. It probably wouldn't be a good idea to get caught sitting here with my boner out. There's no way I can afford to get busted. I only want to be safe. For both of us."

"Yeah, me too. Where are they now? Why haven't they gone by yet?" I asked.

"Not sure," Milo said, sitting up straighter and looking in the review mirror. "They're driving awfully slowly."

"Think it's a cop?"

"I don't know. Could be. What time is it?"

I pulled out my phone and was surprised I had quite a few text messages from my crew. They could all wait as far as I was concerned. "It's almost ten-thirty. Why?"

"It's just a thought. Maybe it's about closing time or something and they're doing rounds, kicking everybody out before they lock the gate. That would explain why there's nobody up here except us."

"Yeah, that's possible," I said, fully realizing that this really, really wasn't a good idea being up here this late.

"The car's going super-slow, now," Milo said, staring into the rearview mirror. "I still can't see if it's a cop or not. It could be county park service. I heard they're all gay. Something about those uniforms."

"Should I grab the burgers from the backseat? We should take a couple bites. That way if it is a cop, it'll look like we're up here eating our dinner," I asked, starting to get a little more nervous.

"Good idea. You think fast, Mase."

"Not always. Here. They're kind of cold, but eat up anyway. It'll still be good."

"Thanks. Have you ever been pulled over by the cops before?"

"No, not pulled over. But I have had to deal with them on a couple of occasions in the past. Not one of my top ten favorite things to do, you know?"

"No shit? Are you serious?" Milo asked.

"Yeah, unfortunately. They've been to our house a few of times when I was younger and my brothers were still living at home. The cops would come out when one of my brothers and my folks would have a dustup. My dad and my brothers would duke it out sometimes, and the neighbors would hear it or look out their back windows and see them, then call the police. And then there was this one time when..."

"Wow. Honestly? That's crazy! How old were you when that was going on? And please tell me your dad doesn't beat on you. That would never happen in my house."

"Oh, no. He never touched me. All that shit happened years ago when I was a little guy. My brothers and my dad all have the same hot temper. My mom, as much as she tried, couldn't do much about it, unfortunately. Sometimes, I think I was adopted or I'm an orphan or something, because I'm nothing like the rest of my family. For a while, I thought I was kidnapped and left here. See, the weird thing is I don't even look like either of my parents, or my brothers. Well, my mom a little bit, but nothing like my brothers and my dad look. And thankfully, I don't have that stupid temper. Aw, shit!" I whistled, as a bright spotlight shot through the window from behind, practically blinding me.

"Damn. It is the cops!" Milo squeaked.

"Be chill, dude. Seriously. It'll be all right. We're not doing anything wrong. Least not now."

"Yeah, you're right. We're not," he said, manning up.

"Follow their directions exactly and we'll be good. Just be chill. And don't say any more than you have to, okay? The shorter the better. Trust me on this."

"Yeah. Got it. I'm chill." I doubted that, since I was anything but chill when I'd gone through a police interrogation a couple times before.

I couldn't see much around me because of the bright light reflecting off the passenger side mirror into my face. I was figuring that Milo was having the same problem as I was, but I didn't want to look over at him.

My senses were on high alert, and it didn't take long before I heard some crunching in the loose gravel to my right, and the patrol car's radio squawking a bunch of numbers loudly in the background, making me jump.

"Evening, folks," a deep male voice called out from behind the driver's side door. I could hear footsteps behind me on my side, too, and dust was being kicked up and was quickly filling the car's cabin. It was blowing around in the bright light, making it even more eerie. "Can I see your registration, insurance cards and both of your ID's? Hand them slowly out your windows and hold them up high."

We both complied, hastily pulling the requested cards out of our wallets the same time a backup patrol car rolled up to a stop behind us. That worried me, a second team of cops. I quickly dug around in the door pocket until I found all of my DMV paperwork which I had crammed in there a few months back. I was still waiting on my tags, and I hoped this wasn't going to be a ginormous problem. I stuck my arm out the window and held the papers up in the air as instructed. In a flash, someone yanked the stuff out of my fingers and quickly stepped back again. Strange thing, though. I got a strong whiff of some noxious flowery perfume. Made me wonder if Peggy from work was moonlighting as a ride-along cop.

"Give me a minute, uh, Mr. Chavez. Sit tight," the officer on Milo's side said. I was guessing that these guys were headed back to the squad car to run our ID's and my plate.

"Are they back in the patrol car?" I whispered, after a minute or two of silence. The lights were still reflecting painfully on our faces, and illuminating the inside of the car. I had to keep my head turned because the light was beginning to give me a headache.

"Yeah, I think so. It's hard to see."

"Scared?"

"Yeah. No lie. You?" Milo asked quietly.

"Hell yeah. Um, just so you're ready, in case this comes up, we might have a registration problem. I hope not, though," I said.

"Why?"

"Because I don't have my tags yet. I asked Angus the other day about them, and he said everything's good, far as he knows. He's the one that helped me get this car."

"Oh, shit. And I'm driving!"

"Mr. Chavez, Mr. Conover. Please step out of the car," the cop said above the radio chatter that was squawking from the patrol car once again.

Following his orders, we both slowly got out of my Mini, standing up outside the doors. Thank goodness Milo got dressed. I think we had both seen enough situations like this on the news recently, and we figured it was best to take it slow and easy, and not give the cops any reason to go ballistic on us and pound us into oblivion.

In the harsh light, I could barely make out a tall, maybe Eastern-European looking male cop watching us intently as he stood by the front drivers-side fender of his black and white. His hand was resting snugly over the gun butt shoved in his holster. The cop on my side was rocking back and forth slightly on her thick heels, her thumbs tucked tightly in the waistband of her crisp, dark pants. She seemed jumpy and ready to go off. She was older than the other cop, and looked like she could be African American, or maybe Asian. She was definitely shorter than me by about four or five inches. From what I could tell, it looked like she was pushing the seams of her uniform to the breaking point. I imagined that she could probably take down a rapist by flexing her stomach muscles and popping off a button or two their way. I didn't want to mess with her. She looked like the type that would shoot first and ask questions later, then deny anything ever happened.

"What you boyz dune up here?" she demanded.

"Um, nothing. We came up her to eat our burgers and look at the view," Milo said quietly.

"Really? Kinda late for dat, ain't tit?" she asked, her Jamaican accent reminding me of this singer named Chronixx that Izzy was into lately.

"No, honest, ma'am. I got off work a few minutes ago. You can check inside the car and see for yourself if you want," I said, trying my best to be polite. "We're having In-N-Out." Geez! Why the hell did I say that last part?

"Mr. Chavez, are you the same Milo Chavez on the Titans baseball team?"

"Yes sir," Milo said.

"Thought you might be. Shortstop?"

"Yes sir."

"You're very good. Saw you play a couple times last season. And you're Mason Conover, correct?" the male cop asked me.

"Yes."

"This is your car?"

"Uh-huh."

"Why aren't you driving?"

"Um, well, I was beat after my shift, so I asked Milo to drive." I could see out of my peripheral vision Milo turn his head and look at me. I sure hoped he kept it together or we'd be fucked, and not in a good way.

"Would you be kind enough to tell us why this car isn't registered?"

"It is! I mean, I've got the paperwork filed and paid the fees and everything. My friend helped me with it because it was a repossession, or a salvage or something, and he said that the paperwork and tags could take some time to get."

"Uh huh," the lady cop said sarcastically.

"Conover, Conover. Why do I know that name? Do I know you?" he asked.

"No sir. I don't think so. Unless you shop at the Village Market where I work. I've never been in trouble before," I lied. Why the hell was he asking me that? This was getting stranger by the second.

"Are you related to the Conover boys?"

"Huh? Conover boys? Oh! Are you maybe talking about my older brothers? I have three. They were that bad they had a name?"

"Not sure exactly. Is one of them named Denny by chance?"

"Yes sir. He's my oldest brother."

"Interesting. I remember him. We went to school together. He was a real piece of work," the cop said.

"I know. All my brothers are douchebags," I said. "Him especially."

"Hey! Watch your mouth dare, boy," the lady cop said.

"Sorry."

"On one of my first ride-alongs as a cadet, I remember going to your house for a domestic disturbance. Your brother and your father were running around and punching each other out on the back lawn," the younger cop said, relaxing a bit and taking his hand off his holster, but not moving it very far away. "I'll never forget the look on Denny's face when he saw me as we pulled up. And you know, Sarge, this kid is right. His brother is a douche."

"I doan care. I told ya I doan like dat word," she said, crossing her arms. Didn't seem to me that she liked much of anything, other than maybe scarfing down a whole bunch of bacon-filled cronuts.

"What's Denny doing these days? If I remember correctly, he got a bunch of girls pregnant towards the end of high school. Did he ever graduate?"

"Yes sir. Barely. He's in the military now."

"Figures. Well, guys, its lock-up time."

"WE'RE GOING TO JAIL?" Milo shouted, making everybody jump.

"No, no," he chuckled. "Sorry. Poor choice of words. It's time to lock the gate. Didn't you read the sign down at the bottom of the hill? Overlook closes at ten. That was a while ago."

"Oh. Thank god," he muttered.

"However, I am going to have to give Mr. Conover here a ticket. Your tags aren't current and they're not in the system. You have ten days to get this resolved or next time you're pulled over we'll have no choice to impound your car."

"I have the paperwork and I paid hundreds of dollars to register it," I complained. "You just looked at it."

"Tell it to da DMV," the lady cop said. "You lucky we doan impound your car right here and now."

"She's right. I'm only going to give you a fix-it ticket. Shouldn't cost you anything but time," the taller cop said. "You guys are lucky. If this was the beginning of our shift, we'd impound it. No question. And that would cost you big money. So, because we're almost off shift and I sort of know who you guys are, I don't have to hang out here all night and wait for a tow-truck."

"Um, thanks, I guess," I said.

"Guys, come over here for a second," the guy said, waving us over closer to the squad car. I could barely make out the female cop giving us a weird look. Thankfully, the cops in the other car hadn't gotten out, although they had their doors wide open like they smelled prey and were ready to pounce.

Both Milo and I looked at each other for a second, then slowly walked over to him. I had no idea what the cop was doing, and I hoped it wouldn't be more bad news.

"Listen, guys. I'm not a hard-ass, so next time, find a safer place to do what you guys were doing. This isn't the place to be doing those sort of things, and you could be arrested and sent to jail if someone saw you. And for the love of god, man, wipe your face when you're finished. Got it?"

"Yes sir," Milo said quietly, humiliated, and started rubbing his mouth and chin with his shirt sleeve.

"We will. Thanks for the warning," I said, completely mortified.

"Here you go. Your license, Milo. Mason, your license and paperwork, and here...your ticket. Don't put this off. Get it fixed, pronto. Understand?"

"Yes sir. I will."

"Drive safe, boys."

"Yes sir. And thanks again," Milo said.

"And Mason? When you see Denny, tell him I have a fist sandwich with his name on it if I ever see him again."

"Sir?"

He leaned in towards me so the others couldn't hear. "He bullied my friends when we were in junior high. I'd love a little payback. Wouldn't mind some blood."

"Yes sir. I agree. And if you see him, give him one for me, too. In the nuts, if I may be so bold."

"You're funny. I will. Now get the hell out of here."

"Yes sir," we both said.

Milo and I walked self-consciously back to the car, quickly got inside and buckled up. As soon as the two squad cars drove away, Milo started up the Mini, and backed out into the loose, gravely road. We drove down the mountain in utter silence, both of us completely lost in our heads, thinking of what could have been a downright f'n disaster, and thankful we didn't get busted and locked up in some grody, urine-stenched jail cell somewhere downtown.

End of Chapter 6 

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