NOTE: This will be the last update for a little while. I've realised that it's been almost a year since I last updated Watching Brad and that has disturbed me very, very much and it has been preying on my mind. I can't believe it's been that long. Time is passing so very swiftly these days.
Anyway, I've been concentrating lately on writing the next chapter to bring you up-to-date with the de Villiers family. I wish things could be different, but they're not. I keep hoping, but hoping doesn't necessarily make things happen. I have to do that myself and it's getting more difficult every day.
Not fun.
I hope you enjoy this update, and I hope you don't hate me for wanting to leave it for awhile to update 'everyone's favourite family'. (See my horn? I'm blowin' it.)
Enjoy.
Neil
Kevin was all cleaned up and had tucked himself away and had buttoned up his pants by the time we pulled into the U-Haul rental lot. Without a hint of his recent orgasm (except, perhaps, for the lingering scent of his dick on the palm of his right hand), Kevin paid and signed for the cube van he’d reserved. I wondered to myself what the man behind the counter would have thought if he knew what the hand he had just handed the keys to and had shaken had been doing only a few minutes earlier. Back outside, Kevin climbed into the driver’s seat and drove out of the lot with me following closely behind.
Twenty minutes later, the truck was backed up to the storage unit door and we were loading Kevin’s belongings. There wasn’t much furniture – a small, wooden dining set for four; an old, oak veneered chest of drawers; a leather-coloured, fabric-upholstered rocker/recliner with a matching ottoman; a set of stained pine with a matching TV and stereo stand which, apparently, Kevin had made himself; and a small sofa that would seat two Kevin comfortably. Three if everybody took turns breathing. But there were a lot of boxes. Lots and lots of boxes, some of which very heavy and full of what I guessed were Kevin’s more personal and precious items.
“So, Kev,” I said with a bit an insinuating chuckle. “Which boxes contain your porn collection?”
“None of them,” was the quick, off-handed reply.
“It’s already back at the apartment?”
Kevin shook his head ‘no’. “I don’t have a porn collection. Never did.”
“Oh, come off it, Kev. Every guy has a porn collection whether they’re married or not. Gay, straight, or in between.”
“Not me,” he mumbled as he turned away from me.
“Then what did you use when you. . .” And then, like a light bulb turning on in my brain, it came to me. “Oh. You used me, didn’t you?”
Kevin looked at me again and nodded. It might have been a trick of the light, but it looked as though he was blushing. “I didn’t need anything else, Marty.” And with that, the matter was dropped.
We took our time and finished loading the truck in just few hours. By that time, the sun had disappeared behind the clouds which had moved in from the west. The bright blue sky we had enjoyed throughout our entire trip was gone but it did nothing to dampen our spirits. By early afternoon, Kevin had settled his bill with the storage place and turned in his storage unit key. He climbed into the truck cab and led the way out of the lot and onto the streets. I followed in his wake. It was sunny and warm. A lovely day for our planned riverside picnic.
On the first day of our trip, after Kevin had explained how he and his mother used to take the bus to have a picnic beside the river there. Kevin had mentioned earlier that he would like to go to the river one last time and we had both decided that we would have our own little picnic. Then, before heading back to the motel for the night to rest up for our long drive back home, we would visit the cemetery so Kevin could say his goodbyes to his mother. He didn’t expect to ever go back there again.
Kevin drove to a parking lot near the storage place where he could park the U-Haul for the afternoon, then climbed into my car beside me and we set off for a grocery store where we bought bread and butter and an assortment of luncheon meats to make sandwiches, a few tins of brown beans and a can opener, paper plates and plastic utensils, a brick of cheese, and some fresh fruit for dessert. We also picked up a few bags of chips and pretzels and a package of strawberry liquorice Twizzlers (Kevin’s favourite) for munching on later. A few tins of cold pop for the picnic and a case of beer for the motel and we were ready.
I could see why Kevin and his mother liked the place. It was beautiful, calm, peaceful, and very refreshing and relaxing, despite the overcast skies; a wonderful respite from the fatigue of all that driving and heavy lifting. We made our lunch on the bank of the river and packed up the leftovers before sprawling out on the cool grass beneath the dancing leaves of an enormous weeping willow tree. We talked and tossed small pieces of bread at the ducks. Kevin did most of the talking, reminiscing about the happy times he had spent there with his mother. He talked a lot about her.
It was clear that he still missed her, and I suspect he often contemplated what his life would have been like had she not died and left him to the wiles and desires of his father and brother. I often contemplated it, too. I don’t know if he ever came to any conclusions, but I could only hope that it wouldn’t have been quite as dramatic and traumatic as it turned out to be. Sure, he might still have come back when he was emancipated and our lives together may or may not have gone down the same road together, but at least he wouldn’t have had to endure the rape and abuse, both mental and physical, of his brother and father. I’ve often wondered over these many years what that Kevin Michael Jameson might have been like. Circumstances dictated that we would never know. This was the only Kevin Michael Jameson that mattered.
“I’m going to miss this,” Kevin said after a time. We were both lying on our sides, facing each other with our legs crossed at the ankle. With our elbows stretched out beyond our heads, our bent forearms and upturned hands propped up our heads.
“Miss what? This place?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he continued, “but I’m going to miss you and me, here like this, a lot more. You know, go wherever we want. Do whatever we want. Have sex any time we want. Taking showers together. Being alone together. Just you and me. You know, that kind of stuff. I’m going to miss it when we go back home.”
“We’ll have lots of time for all that.”
“We had lots of time before, Marty, but it took a trip away from home to get you to loosen up enough to do anything. I’m not complaining,” he was quick to add. “When you don’t expect anything to happen, it’s like getting an unexpected present when it does.”
“Things will be different when we get back, Kev. I promise.”
Kevin nodded, his head rocking on his upturned palm, but his forced smile and the saddened look in his eyes told me that he wouldn’t hold me to it. “Maybe. But I want you to know that it’s been a long time since I’ve been this happy, Marty. Even if it all stops again when we get back home, I wouldn’t trade these past few days with you for anything in the world. I’m going to cherish them for the rest of my life.”
It was at that a healthy gust of wind rustled the tree above us. Both Kevin and I looked up to the sky. The clouds had grown thicker and, on the horizon to the west, were decidedly darker and menacing.
“Looks like rain,” Kevin commented. “Maybe we should pack up and get to the cemetery before we get caught in it.”
There wasn’t much to pack up and we were done and on our way within minutes. It took awhile to get to the other side of the river, despite being able to see the cemetery across the river not far from where we had been picnicking, but the drive was a pleasant one as the road wound its way along the riverbank. I drove across the bridge when we reached it and then backtracked on the other side of the river until we parked the car near the cemetery gates.
We walked into the cemetery in silence until Kevin lifted his arm and pointed. “She’s there.” I stopped, sat on the grass, and waited, letting him go on alone. He reached the gravesite and stood there for a few long minutes before sitting cross-legged beside the stone. With his elbows resting on his knees and his chin resting on his raised fists, he sat there and simply looked at the headstone. He sat there as the approaching clouds darkened the sky. The wind came up. Minutes later, I felt the first few drops of rain. Kevin must have felt them, too. He looked up at the sky, then at me, and rose to his feet. I approached and stood beside him, putting a friendly arm over his back and shoulder and pulled him to me. He nuzzled his body against mine.
“She’s happy for me, Marty,” he said quietly as he stared down at the stone. “She’s happy that I’m so happy and she’s glad that I’ve got you and Sharon and Mom and Dad to look out for me.” He turned his head to look at me. “She’s happy for you and me, too, Marty. She always knew about me and my feelings for you. She just told me.” He looked back down at the headstone. “She isn’t worried for me anymore, Marty. She’s happy. For both of us.”
Kevin’s arm came up behind me and grasped my waist, pulling us even closer. His head came to rest against my shoulder. Rain began to fall on us in a steady drizzle, but still we stood there. Finally, when the rain had soaked through my hair and had begun running down my face and the back of my neck, Kevin lifted his head from my shoulder said reverently, “Bye, Mom. Love you.” His face turned to mine. “C’mon, Marty. Let’s go home.”
The rain chased us all the way to the motel. By the time we got there, I had turned on the headlights and it wasn’t even supper time yet. It wasn’t dark, but it was close to looking like dusk which was still hours away. We pulled off the road and parked in front of the office so Kevin could make arrangements with the innkeeper for parking the truck while I waited in my car. When he was parked, we were going to pick up some supper and some more snacks to have with our beer. We’d eaten all the snacks we’d bought for the picnic and during the ride back to the motel. A minute or so later, the office door opened and Kevin appeared there, motioning for me to join him. I shut off the car and ran inside.
“George says we’re in for some pretty nasty weather,” Kevin said. George was the innkeeper.
“He’s right, son,” George confirmed. He pointed at the small radio sitting on top of the desk. A song by the Bee Gees was playing at that time. I forget which one, but I remember hearing Barry’s very recognisable falsetto voice. “Bin on the squawk box all afternoon. Big winds ‘n washout rains t’night. Winds’re s’pposed ta let up some in the mornin’, but lots more rain still ta come. If ya head back eas’ t’morra mornin’, yer gonna be drivin’ in it all the way back.”
“What do you think, Marty? Should we rent the room for another day?”
“I don’t know, Kev,” I replied. “I’ve already left Sharon alone with Marty Junior long enough, and it was hard enough getting the time off work as it is. If we get delayed again on the way back, I’m not sure I can talk them into another day.”
“Sharon’s got Mom to help with MJ, and I’ll have to take another day off work, too. Besides, what’ll your work do if you don’t show up? Fire you?”
“Well, ye-eah!” I said, holding my arms and hands out in a ‘what else?’ pose. “D’uh!”
“Yer brother’s right, son,” George said. “Better safe th’n sorry I al’ys say. Tell ya wut. I’ll hol’ yer room fer ya. Like a reservation. If ya decide it’s not worth tacklin’ the rain in the mornin’, the room’s yers an’ ya can phone yer wife an’ yer work an’ settle up on the room then. Otherwise, no charge. Hows about that?”
Kevin looked from George to me. “Sounds reasonable, Marty. I’m not that keen on driving that truck all day in the rain if I can help it.”
I tossed the idea over in my mind and came to a quick decision. “Okay. We’ll do that.”
Kevin parked the truck where instructed, then we struck out to find something to eat for supper and to stock up on our stash of snacks and pop and ice cubes for the cooler in case we ended up being stuck there. We bought a couple of pizzas again, figuring the leftovers would be enough to last us for the next day as well, and we still had the leftover bread and sliced meat for sandwiches. This time we remembered to buy some mustard and cheese slices, too. We bought some more pop and enough cigarettes to hold us over. If we were going to be forced to spend the whole day in the motel room the whole day, we wanted to be prepared for all contingencies.
“I’m totally wiped,” I said at one point during our shopping spree. “All I want is a nice, hot shower and get into bed.”
“Bed sounds good,” Kevin said with more than a hint of sexiness and anticipation in his voice. “Bed’s are always fun when you’re in them with me.”
“Sorry, buddy, but not tonight. I’m sitting out on this one.”
“Oh, I’m sure I could energise you enough for one more round, Marty.” Kevin goaded.
“I’m serious, Kev. I’m not used to this. You have more sex in one day than I usually get in a whole week. If you don’t want me totally sexed out for the rest of the trip, I need a break, okay?”
Kevin hesitated, staring me in the eye as if sizing up whether I was joking or telling him the truth. Apparently he settled on the latter. “Okay, Marty. I understand. But what happens if I. . .”
I held up my hand, palm forward, to stop him. “Hey. You go right ahead and knock yourself out, buddy. I don’t know how you do it day after day after day, but if the spirit moves you, go for it. I’ll be quite content just to sit back and peek now and then.”
By the time we got back to the motel and got our treats unloaded and carried inside, we were soaked to the skin, chilled to the bone, and I was tired enough to just fall into bed and go to sleep. Before we did that, though, we stripped down, dropped our sodden clothes in pile near the door, and jumped into the shower together to wash down and warm up. That was it. Just washing and warming up. Nothing else. No sex, no cuddling, no kissing, no sucking, no fucking, no jerking, no nothing. The closest we got to each other was washing the other’s back. We even left the butts alone. Kevin popped full wood of course. He usually did when he was naked with me. He never tried to hide it from me, but he wasn’t showing it off, either. It was just there and I was getting used to seeing him with it. In fact, by that time, he didn’t look natural with a softie. I popped a semi, but, for the first time during that trip, we had a shower without having anything else.
As I busied myself getting supper ready and filling the cooler with the ice and the beer and pop and other perishables, Kevin wrung out our clothes as best he could and draped them over everything he could find to drape them over. Taking them to a Laundromat was out of the question. The way it was raining, the trip would have been redundant. We might have got our wet clothes dry, but our dry clothes would have been just as wet.
I turned on the television and tuned it to the least objectionable of the four stations available through the antenna (I remember watching back-to-back reruns of Barnaby Jones) and climbed into the bed beside Kevin. We sat with our backs against the stacked pillows and the top sheets pulled to our waists. Our supply of beer and soft drinks and pizza and cigarettes were close to hand.
Kevin jerked off again after eating. He didn’t even ask permission. He just started doing it. I didn’t join him. I’d already had more sex in those few days than I’d had in the past few weeks and I simply needed a break to recuperate and to let my Johnson do something else besides spit out ball juice. Kevin’s miraculous recuperative powers meant that he didn’t seem to need any breaks at all. He was like that pink bunny on the television commercials except in reverse: he just kept cumming and cumming and cumming. Not me, though. I was totally wiped out and didn’t even feel like having another orgasm. I guess I did grow up way too soon.
Anyway, we were sitting there, watching the TV and chatting away, and Kevin nonchalantly slipped his hand beneath the sheet and started jerking away. I watched the sheet rise and fall for about a dozen strokes before rolling onto my hip until I was facing my friend. I slid down the bed – dragging the sheet away from Kevin as I went - and propped myself up on my elbow so I could get a close-up view. “This is nice,” I said after a time. “I said I might peek now and then, but you don’t mind if I watch now, do you?”
“As long as you don’t mind me doing it,” he countered.
“Not at all,” I told him. “Like I told you before, you’re like the guys in my whack-off mags come to life. It’s kinda fun to watch.”
And so, Kevin jerked off and I watched, and when I saw the telltale signs of his imminent climax, something clicked in my brain and my hand suddenly reached out and cupped Kevin’s nuts. For me, it was a simple gesture. For Kevin, it was a full-body launch into orbit. His whole body tensed up and his hips hunched upward. His cock suddenly became a cannon which blasted his cum in several long, steady strings up his body. It was a wonder to behold. You can’t get that kind of action in a magazine.
After that, the eleven o’clock news was almost yawn-worthy, but we watched it anyway as we waited for the weather forecast. So far, there hadn’t been any storms, but the rain hadn’t let up for even a moment and the forecast wasn’t encouraging. A series of storms would be moving in overnight and would continue until morning. The rain was expected to become heavy and even torrential during the storms. Although the storms would be moving east, the rain would be trailing along in their wake for quite some time and, barring some miracle clearing, the next day would be a wash. I looked at Kevin and he looked at me.
“Looks like we’re gonna be stuck inside all day tomorrow,” Kevin said with a glint in his eyes. “Think we can find something to keep us busy?”
“Oh, I’m sure we’ll think of something.”
“I hope it’s more exciting than The Price Is Right”
I had a funny feeling that it would be. Kevin Jameson, cum on down!
Anyway, I've been concentrating lately on writing the next chapter to bring you up-to-date with the de Villiers family. I wish things could be different, but they're not. I keep hoping, but hoping doesn't necessarily make things happen. I have to do that myself and it's getting more difficult every day.
Not fun.
I hope you enjoy this update, and I hope you don't hate me for wanting to leave it for awhile to update 'everyone's favourite family'. (See my horn? I'm blowin' it.)
Enjoy.
Neil
* * * * * * * * * *
BEST BUDDIES PLAY HARD
CONCLUSION - Part 3K
BEST BUDDIES PLAY HARD
CONCLUSION - Part 3K
Kevin was all cleaned up and had tucked himself away and had buttoned up his pants by the time we pulled into the U-Haul rental lot. Without a hint of his recent orgasm (except, perhaps, for the lingering scent of his dick on the palm of his right hand), Kevin paid and signed for the cube van he’d reserved. I wondered to myself what the man behind the counter would have thought if he knew what the hand he had just handed the keys to and had shaken had been doing only a few minutes earlier. Back outside, Kevin climbed into the driver’s seat and drove out of the lot with me following closely behind.
Twenty minutes later, the truck was backed up to the storage unit door and we were loading Kevin’s belongings. There wasn’t much furniture – a small, wooden dining set for four; an old, oak veneered chest of drawers; a leather-coloured, fabric-upholstered rocker/recliner with a matching ottoman; a set of stained pine with a matching TV and stereo stand which, apparently, Kevin had made himself; and a small sofa that would seat two Kevin comfortably. Three if everybody took turns breathing. But there were a lot of boxes. Lots and lots of boxes, some of which very heavy and full of what I guessed were Kevin’s more personal and precious items.
“So, Kev,” I said with a bit an insinuating chuckle. “Which boxes contain your porn collection?”
“None of them,” was the quick, off-handed reply.
“It’s already back at the apartment?”
Kevin shook his head ‘no’. “I don’t have a porn collection. Never did.”
“Oh, come off it, Kev. Every guy has a porn collection whether they’re married or not. Gay, straight, or in between.”
“Not me,” he mumbled as he turned away from me.
“Then what did you use when you. . .” And then, like a light bulb turning on in my brain, it came to me. “Oh. You used me, didn’t you?”
Kevin looked at me again and nodded. It might have been a trick of the light, but it looked as though he was blushing. “I didn’t need anything else, Marty.” And with that, the matter was dropped.
We took our time and finished loading the truck in just few hours. By that time, the sun had disappeared behind the clouds which had moved in from the west. The bright blue sky we had enjoyed throughout our entire trip was gone but it did nothing to dampen our spirits. By early afternoon, Kevin had settled his bill with the storage place and turned in his storage unit key. He climbed into the truck cab and led the way out of the lot and onto the streets. I followed in his wake. It was sunny and warm. A lovely day for our planned riverside picnic.
On the first day of our trip, after Kevin had explained how he and his mother used to take the bus to have a picnic beside the river there. Kevin had mentioned earlier that he would like to go to the river one last time and we had both decided that we would have our own little picnic. Then, before heading back to the motel for the night to rest up for our long drive back home, we would visit the cemetery so Kevin could say his goodbyes to his mother. He didn’t expect to ever go back there again.
Kevin drove to a parking lot near the storage place where he could park the U-Haul for the afternoon, then climbed into my car beside me and we set off for a grocery store where we bought bread and butter and an assortment of luncheon meats to make sandwiches, a few tins of brown beans and a can opener, paper plates and plastic utensils, a brick of cheese, and some fresh fruit for dessert. We also picked up a few bags of chips and pretzels and a package of strawberry liquorice Twizzlers (Kevin’s favourite) for munching on later. A few tins of cold pop for the picnic and a case of beer for the motel and we were ready.
I could see why Kevin and his mother liked the place. It was beautiful, calm, peaceful, and very refreshing and relaxing, despite the overcast skies; a wonderful respite from the fatigue of all that driving and heavy lifting. We made our lunch on the bank of the river and packed up the leftovers before sprawling out on the cool grass beneath the dancing leaves of an enormous weeping willow tree. We talked and tossed small pieces of bread at the ducks. Kevin did most of the talking, reminiscing about the happy times he had spent there with his mother. He talked a lot about her.
It was clear that he still missed her, and I suspect he often contemplated what his life would have been like had she not died and left him to the wiles and desires of his father and brother. I often contemplated it, too. I don’t know if he ever came to any conclusions, but I could only hope that it wouldn’t have been quite as dramatic and traumatic as it turned out to be. Sure, he might still have come back when he was emancipated and our lives together may or may not have gone down the same road together, but at least he wouldn’t have had to endure the rape and abuse, both mental and physical, of his brother and father. I’ve often wondered over these many years what that Kevin Michael Jameson might have been like. Circumstances dictated that we would never know. This was the only Kevin Michael Jameson that mattered.
“I’m going to miss this,” Kevin said after a time. We were both lying on our sides, facing each other with our legs crossed at the ankle. With our elbows stretched out beyond our heads, our bent forearms and upturned hands propped up our heads.
“Miss what? This place?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he continued, “but I’m going to miss you and me, here like this, a lot more. You know, go wherever we want. Do whatever we want. Have sex any time we want. Taking showers together. Being alone together. Just you and me. You know, that kind of stuff. I’m going to miss it when we go back home.”
“We’ll have lots of time for all that.”
“We had lots of time before, Marty, but it took a trip away from home to get you to loosen up enough to do anything. I’m not complaining,” he was quick to add. “When you don’t expect anything to happen, it’s like getting an unexpected present when it does.”
“Things will be different when we get back, Kev. I promise.”
Kevin nodded, his head rocking on his upturned palm, but his forced smile and the saddened look in his eyes told me that he wouldn’t hold me to it. “Maybe. But I want you to know that it’s been a long time since I’ve been this happy, Marty. Even if it all stops again when we get back home, I wouldn’t trade these past few days with you for anything in the world. I’m going to cherish them for the rest of my life.”
It was at that a healthy gust of wind rustled the tree above us. Both Kevin and I looked up to the sky. The clouds had grown thicker and, on the horizon to the west, were decidedly darker and menacing.
“Looks like rain,” Kevin commented. “Maybe we should pack up and get to the cemetery before we get caught in it.”
There wasn’t much to pack up and we were done and on our way within minutes. It took awhile to get to the other side of the river, despite being able to see the cemetery across the river not far from where we had been picnicking, but the drive was a pleasant one as the road wound its way along the riverbank. I drove across the bridge when we reached it and then backtracked on the other side of the river until we parked the car near the cemetery gates.
We walked into the cemetery in silence until Kevin lifted his arm and pointed. “She’s there.” I stopped, sat on the grass, and waited, letting him go on alone. He reached the gravesite and stood there for a few long minutes before sitting cross-legged beside the stone. With his elbows resting on his knees and his chin resting on his raised fists, he sat there and simply looked at the headstone. He sat there as the approaching clouds darkened the sky. The wind came up. Minutes later, I felt the first few drops of rain. Kevin must have felt them, too. He looked up at the sky, then at me, and rose to his feet. I approached and stood beside him, putting a friendly arm over his back and shoulder and pulled him to me. He nuzzled his body against mine.
“She’s happy for me, Marty,” he said quietly as he stared down at the stone. “She’s happy that I’m so happy and she’s glad that I’ve got you and Sharon and Mom and Dad to look out for me.” He turned his head to look at me. “She’s happy for you and me, too, Marty. She always knew about me and my feelings for you. She just told me.” He looked back down at the headstone. “She isn’t worried for me anymore, Marty. She’s happy. For both of us.”
Kevin’s arm came up behind me and grasped my waist, pulling us even closer. His head came to rest against my shoulder. Rain began to fall on us in a steady drizzle, but still we stood there. Finally, when the rain had soaked through my hair and had begun running down my face and the back of my neck, Kevin lifted his head from my shoulder said reverently, “Bye, Mom. Love you.” His face turned to mine. “C’mon, Marty. Let’s go home.”
The rain chased us all the way to the motel. By the time we got there, I had turned on the headlights and it wasn’t even supper time yet. It wasn’t dark, but it was close to looking like dusk which was still hours away. We pulled off the road and parked in front of the office so Kevin could make arrangements with the innkeeper for parking the truck while I waited in my car. When he was parked, we were going to pick up some supper and some more snacks to have with our beer. We’d eaten all the snacks we’d bought for the picnic and during the ride back to the motel. A minute or so later, the office door opened and Kevin appeared there, motioning for me to join him. I shut off the car and ran inside.
“George says we’re in for some pretty nasty weather,” Kevin said. George was the innkeeper.
“He’s right, son,” George confirmed. He pointed at the small radio sitting on top of the desk. A song by the Bee Gees was playing at that time. I forget which one, but I remember hearing Barry’s very recognisable falsetto voice. “Bin on the squawk box all afternoon. Big winds ‘n washout rains t’night. Winds’re s’pposed ta let up some in the mornin’, but lots more rain still ta come. If ya head back eas’ t’morra mornin’, yer gonna be drivin’ in it all the way back.”
“What do you think, Marty? Should we rent the room for another day?”
“I don’t know, Kev,” I replied. “I’ve already left Sharon alone with Marty Junior long enough, and it was hard enough getting the time off work as it is. If we get delayed again on the way back, I’m not sure I can talk them into another day.”
“Sharon’s got Mom to help with MJ, and I’ll have to take another day off work, too. Besides, what’ll your work do if you don’t show up? Fire you?”
“Well, ye-eah!” I said, holding my arms and hands out in a ‘what else?’ pose. “D’uh!”
“Yer brother’s right, son,” George said. “Better safe th’n sorry I al’ys say. Tell ya wut. I’ll hol’ yer room fer ya. Like a reservation. If ya decide it’s not worth tacklin’ the rain in the mornin’, the room’s yers an’ ya can phone yer wife an’ yer work an’ settle up on the room then. Otherwise, no charge. Hows about that?”
Kevin looked from George to me. “Sounds reasonable, Marty. I’m not that keen on driving that truck all day in the rain if I can help it.”
I tossed the idea over in my mind and came to a quick decision. “Okay. We’ll do that.”
Kevin parked the truck where instructed, then we struck out to find something to eat for supper and to stock up on our stash of snacks and pop and ice cubes for the cooler in case we ended up being stuck there. We bought a couple of pizzas again, figuring the leftovers would be enough to last us for the next day as well, and we still had the leftover bread and sliced meat for sandwiches. This time we remembered to buy some mustard and cheese slices, too. We bought some more pop and enough cigarettes to hold us over. If we were going to be forced to spend the whole day in the motel room the whole day, we wanted to be prepared for all contingencies.
“I’m totally wiped,” I said at one point during our shopping spree. “All I want is a nice, hot shower and get into bed.”
“Bed sounds good,” Kevin said with more than a hint of sexiness and anticipation in his voice. “Bed’s are always fun when you’re in them with me.”
“Sorry, buddy, but not tonight. I’m sitting out on this one.”
“Oh, I’m sure I could energise you enough for one more round, Marty.” Kevin goaded.
“I’m serious, Kev. I’m not used to this. You have more sex in one day than I usually get in a whole week. If you don’t want me totally sexed out for the rest of the trip, I need a break, okay?”
Kevin hesitated, staring me in the eye as if sizing up whether I was joking or telling him the truth. Apparently he settled on the latter. “Okay, Marty. I understand. But what happens if I. . .”
I held up my hand, palm forward, to stop him. “Hey. You go right ahead and knock yourself out, buddy. I don’t know how you do it day after day after day, but if the spirit moves you, go for it. I’ll be quite content just to sit back and peek now and then.”
By the time we got back to the motel and got our treats unloaded and carried inside, we were soaked to the skin, chilled to the bone, and I was tired enough to just fall into bed and go to sleep. Before we did that, though, we stripped down, dropped our sodden clothes in pile near the door, and jumped into the shower together to wash down and warm up. That was it. Just washing and warming up. Nothing else. No sex, no cuddling, no kissing, no sucking, no fucking, no jerking, no nothing. The closest we got to each other was washing the other’s back. We even left the butts alone. Kevin popped full wood of course. He usually did when he was naked with me. He never tried to hide it from me, but he wasn’t showing it off, either. It was just there and I was getting used to seeing him with it. In fact, by that time, he didn’t look natural with a softie. I popped a semi, but, for the first time during that trip, we had a shower without having anything else.
As I busied myself getting supper ready and filling the cooler with the ice and the beer and pop and other perishables, Kevin wrung out our clothes as best he could and draped them over everything he could find to drape them over. Taking them to a Laundromat was out of the question. The way it was raining, the trip would have been redundant. We might have got our wet clothes dry, but our dry clothes would have been just as wet.
I turned on the television and tuned it to the least objectionable of the four stations available through the antenna (I remember watching back-to-back reruns of Barnaby Jones) and climbed into the bed beside Kevin. We sat with our backs against the stacked pillows and the top sheets pulled to our waists. Our supply of beer and soft drinks and pizza and cigarettes were close to hand.
Kevin jerked off again after eating. He didn’t even ask permission. He just started doing it. I didn’t join him. I’d already had more sex in those few days than I’d had in the past few weeks and I simply needed a break to recuperate and to let my Johnson do something else besides spit out ball juice. Kevin’s miraculous recuperative powers meant that he didn’t seem to need any breaks at all. He was like that pink bunny on the television commercials except in reverse: he just kept cumming and cumming and cumming. Not me, though. I was totally wiped out and didn’t even feel like having another orgasm. I guess I did grow up way too soon.
Anyway, we were sitting there, watching the TV and chatting away, and Kevin nonchalantly slipped his hand beneath the sheet and started jerking away. I watched the sheet rise and fall for about a dozen strokes before rolling onto my hip until I was facing my friend. I slid down the bed – dragging the sheet away from Kevin as I went - and propped myself up on my elbow so I could get a close-up view. “This is nice,” I said after a time. “I said I might peek now and then, but you don’t mind if I watch now, do you?”
“As long as you don’t mind me doing it,” he countered.
“Not at all,” I told him. “Like I told you before, you’re like the guys in my whack-off mags come to life. It’s kinda fun to watch.”
And so, Kevin jerked off and I watched, and when I saw the telltale signs of his imminent climax, something clicked in my brain and my hand suddenly reached out and cupped Kevin’s nuts. For me, it was a simple gesture. For Kevin, it was a full-body launch into orbit. His whole body tensed up and his hips hunched upward. His cock suddenly became a cannon which blasted his cum in several long, steady strings up his body. It was a wonder to behold. You can’t get that kind of action in a magazine.
After that, the eleven o’clock news was almost yawn-worthy, but we watched it anyway as we waited for the weather forecast. So far, there hadn’t been any storms, but the rain hadn’t let up for even a moment and the forecast wasn’t encouraging. A series of storms would be moving in overnight and would continue until morning. The rain was expected to become heavy and even torrential during the storms. Although the storms would be moving east, the rain would be trailing along in their wake for quite some time and, barring some miracle clearing, the next day would be a wash. I looked at Kevin and he looked at me.
“Looks like we’re gonna be stuck inside all day tomorrow,” Kevin said with a glint in his eyes. “Think we can find something to keep us busy?”
“Oh, I’m sure we’ll think of something.”
“I hope it’s more exciting than The Price Is Right”
I had a funny feeling that it would be. Kevin Jameson, cum on down!
To Be Concluded
