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Country Cousins

Well Will isn't the only one to proffer at an outing of the elite. Of course Victoria isn't the prize Roy might have desired. Oddly enough, the chase seems to be more on the ladies end. Now that Victoria has reached her adult status, where does she go from there. Her choice of words may have ended any romantic encounter with Roy she so desperately needed. Funny how girls think.......

Craiger
 
Chapter Thirteen – Willis


I never mentioned 'that night' in his office to Tommy Lynn, but he found out about it. Mike told him. I figured we could just keep quiet and forget it ever happened, but there was money involved. Mike returned the money and told Tommy the whole story.

“It was hard enough for you finding out, nineteen years late, that I'm your father. Now you have to find out … in the worst possible way … that I'm also … homosexual,” Tommy said. “Will, I'm so sorry for what happened to you.”

“Nothing much happened to me, Tommy. Almost nothing.”

“Almost nothing is still too much. And I have no idea how to make it up to you.”

“Can't we just forget it. Or at least ignore it. I didn't get raped and it was over so fast … kind of like a football tackle.”

“I want you to know I gave Mike the money anyway, and he and I never ...”

“Tommy, you don't have to tell me everything, ok? I figured you'd do the right thing.”

“But I don't want this festering, giving you some life-long complex.”

“More likely Mrs. Smith will do that.”

“Luna Smith? What about her?”

“She and I are sort of … you know … she's teaching me the ropes.”

“You! And Lunatic Smith!” Tommy choked on his single malt and then he laughed. “Damn,” he said and then laughed again. “Do not EVER tell your mother, Willis.”

“So we're back to 'Willis', are we?”

“You are taking all this pretty lightly, Will.”

“What else can I do? I can't throw myself down a well. We had it filled in.”

Of course, I wasn't taking it as lightly as I pretended. The parentage thing, the 'tackle' as I thought of it, Mrs. Smith bangin' me regularly, the homosexual father, and Roy wanting to suck my dick had come as a five-punch combination – a peck of surprises, and the summer was only half over. I went home from Tommy's after our little chat and collapsed on my bed. Working in the fields are tiring.

“Will, you awake?”

“Yeah, come on in Roy.” I was glad to see him. He had been avoiding me.

“We're good, aren't we?” He didn't need to give a reason for his question.

“Good as ever,” I confirmed. “You out with Emma tonight?”

“No, I was … I fucked Vicky.”

“Vicky the Gerbil? You dog!” I rumpled his hair and he told me about the Fourth of July and a couple of subsequent follow-ups. In turn, I shared a few items about Mrs. Smith. Stories and laughs, just like the old days. “You want to smoke a joint? I got some from Forrest.”

Forrest was a high school friend who grew his own. In this case it was early-harvest and skunk weed to start with. It burned hot, leaving us leaning out my window, coughing, and barely buzzed for our trouble, but buzzed just enough. We laughed and told old stories for the fiftieth time and talked about Mrs. Smith and Vicky the G some more and relaxed. Eventually we passed out and slept the night in the twin beds in my bedroom.

Momma wrapped on the door in the morning. My human alarm clock never let me be a second late reporting for work to our tenant. “If you're late to work, he'll figure he can be late with the rent,” was her explanation.

“Roy, you want to make a few dollars? We're bring in hay bales today – gotta hurry 'cause of the rain expected. You could help,” I suggested and he agreed.

At the lunch break, Roy complained, “Long sleeves, and I still feel itchy everywhere.” We had cleared about a third of the bales from the field in the morning hours. I didn't tell him that by the end of the day his arms would be swollen from a thousand hay pricks.

After a ten-hour day we were $15 dollars an hour richer by the time we dragged our asses home. We thanked Momma for the Corn Huskers Lotion that came with her directions to wash and apply liberally.

“Man, my arms are swollen!” Roy noted, still wet from his shower and looking at himself in the mirror. “And sore and itchy!” Towels were not a help. “OW!”

“You're grinding the hay bits in. Just blot your arms, don't rub,” I advised him, stepping out from my turn the shower.

With both of us almost dry, I opened the Corn Huskers. It felt cool and soothing. We shared the bottle, doing our arms and legs. “Here, I'll do your back,” I offered. “My turn,” I said when he was coated.

He did my back and said, “You're red everywhere.”

“So do everywhere,” I replied and he did. The cooling slickness and the touch of his hands on my ass came like a shock, a very pleasant one. Almost at once, I felt my dick start to grow. There was no way to hide it. Looking over my shoulder, Roy could see it in the mirror.

“Dude,” he said, “Maybe we should stop ...” It was impulsive and unthinking. I turned to him. He was as hard as I was.

“If you're even going to suck my dick, now would be the time.” My voice shook as I said the words. I had no idea what to expect as he sank to his knees. His hands were slick with the lotion and held me, pulled me by my ass toward his mouth.

He didn't hesitate. I watched him swallow half my cock before he gagged a little. And then he took more. I couldn't watch, it was just too … I don't know what, but I couldn't watch. I shut my eyes and concentrated on the feelings. He moved his hands from my ass to my waist and I moved them back. Hands firmly on my ass, squeezing a little, feeling his fingers almost in my crack was part of it. The warmth of his mouth on my cock, the motion of his tongue, the grip of his throat intensified everything. Then he tugged on my balls and I lost it.

“I'm gonna cum!”

I expected him to back off, but he didn't. He took it. When I was done, I pulled him to his feet and we just leaned against each other while I got my breath back. And then it was my turn to kneel. I tried to duplicate his actions, but having his dick in my mouth was paralyzing. And then I thought I was gonna be sick. If his dick hit the back of my throat one more time, I was gonna lose it. I backed off and immediately felt foolish. I needed to do something. I gave him a hand job. It didn't take long and he seemed to like it. But it wasn't the same. It wasn't what he had done for me.

What was done, however, was done; and my world, the world of Roy and Will, would never be the same. Momma asked Roy to stay for dinner, but he made a lame excuse and went home. I was glad. I didn't know what to say to him after what we had done. I ate and went to bed early. All I knew was that I had liked it, what we did, but I never wanted it to happen again. I didn't know how I could ever face Roy again.

In fact I did face him again at a party that weekend and it was like meeting a stranger. I mentioned the rain and how we got the hay in just in time and all he said was yeah, we did. We tried, we stumbled for words without success, and then parted, relieved, I think, to be parting. I saw him leave with Vicky. I saw her proprietary hand on his waist and then briefly on his ass. Why should that bother me? Why am I feeling almost jealous?

I can't be … I'm NOT gay for fuck sake. No self-respecting gay would be fucking Mrs. Smith almost every day. Just some straight guy like me. Somebody with no other choice. Even Tommy Lynn called me a hopeless horn dog, like he's kinda proud of me.
 
WOW! "The Deed" has finally been done, as well as many others, and all cats are out of their bags (maybe). Talk about an eventful Summer! (!) (!w!) :badgrin:

May we have MORE, Please, Sir? \:/ ..| (group)

Keep Smilin'!! :kiss: (*8*)
Chaz :luv:
 
Rory,
Damn, I never had the fortune to have that mis-fortune, lol.

Or something like that.

And, as Chaz said - may we have some more, sir?
 
Time heals......those two aren't finished yet. Hopefully they recognize it sooner than later. And that was only the "first" step...:-) Good old Corn Huskers, I remember it well........

Craiger
 
Corn Huskers is Awesome stuff, and can be used for so many purposes! *|* (!) (!w!) :-< (group)
 
I was a young 'un visiting the grandparents' dairy farm when I became acquainted with Corn Husker's lotion and Bag Balm.
Never for the purposes YOU all are intimating, though - guess I was too young and too far removed from temptation.
 
Chapter Fourteen – Marlee

I gripped the steering wheel tightly, so tightly my hands hurt. Willis … Something is going on with that boy! Suddenly, after Lord knows how many years, he and Roy Eustis are not speaking. Like jealous little girls ... Over what? Willis has never looked twice at Victoria La Gerbille. It can't be over her ... I wish Willis would find himself a girl. That Cynthia Rutledge is nice enough, not a man-eater that I know of, and not too fast or anything, although there were stories she was seeing somebody in Harper's Ferry and why would anybody go that far unless it was less than respectable? But whatever it was, it didn't last. She'd be nice for him. Or that sweet girl in Lovettsville … her horse is prettier than she is, but to be fair the girl has got a VERY pretty horse. Sandra. Sandy. Something like that.

After what seemed like foreveron the road I turned into Luna's drive and drove up to the house. There was a familiar looking truck, but the world is full of F-100s. It wasn't until I got closer I noticed the James Madison U. mud flaps. Willis! What in the world was he doing here? About ten seconds later I got the chance to ask him.

The front door opened and he appeared. “Willis, what are you doing here?”

Now you know how touchy teenagers get - as if their own mommas can't even ask a simple question. Willis got all red in the face and stuttered, “Doing an errand for Mrs. Smith. She needed some ...”

“Branston Pickle!” chimed in Luna in musical tones, getting him off the hook.

Something was false. “I thought you made your own pickle.”

“Well,” she temporized, “The time of year, you know ...”

“Midsummer. Vegetables everywhere. That's what time of year it is!”

“Not those special gherkins …” I could see in her face she was lying. I turned to Willis and I must have been scowling. He looked shocked and then he smiled.

“Alright. You ruined it, Momma. You weren't supposed to be here. Mrs. Smith and I were cookin' up something for your birthday.”

“Which is in November,” I challenged him.

“But I'll be at school and I just wanted to get something ready for you. Mrs. Smith was going to keep it until the day.” He gave me his 'sweet' smile and won me over, although I couldn't figure out why Luna looked so relieved. And flushed! What was that about?

Willis drove off and Luna welcomed me into the house. It seemed strange she was in a robe so close to noon. “Did Willis wake you up?” I asked. It was an innocent enough question; she had always been an early riser.

“I'm not sleeping well, although Smith is. Maybe that's why I'm not.” She poured us cups of coffee. “Would you prefer it iced?” she asked.

Poor thing; she is essentially all alone. The smell of Smith's money was the only thing keeping him alive, that's what Fairfax said. And I had taken her carpenter away. We sipped the brew; it was perfect. I'll say for Luna she makes a good cup of coffee. I felt generous. In fact I felt magnanimous in light of her social poverty.

“Luna, honey, you want the carpenter back? Maybe we could arrange something.” I blushed at my own audacity. Luna, however, dropped her cup with a clatter.

“Oh! Well! Um! Summer's such a hot time for that kind of thing! Maybe in the fall?”

“What?” To my knowledge she had been playing around for ten years, ever since Smith lost interest, and the season had never mattered. She swept up the remains of her cup and got another.

“Pity. That was great-grandmother's Haviland. That set's gonna be all saucers before I'm through.”

So much for the carpenter; still, I sympathized. “Luna, there's a replacement shop in Georgetown. They have every china pattern known to man. Do you want to run into town next week? Maybe a half day at Elizabeth Arden and lunch?”

I drove home looking forward to the half-day spa treatment. I walked into the house determined to tease Willis about 'catching him' with Luna but the poor thing was asleep in his room. Field work is a tiring bit of business. He deserves his day off and a nap wouldn't hurt a thing. I glanced out at the barn and saw nothing going on. The carpenters must be taking a day off, too. Well, maybe Emma would like to go into Middleburg. There was a florist shop she liked. I tip-toed to her room and wondered why I was creeping around in my own house. So I blithely opened the door and then quickly closed it again. I guess no mother wants to see her child having sex but I had questions. Such as who was her beau? I opened the door again, just an inch or so, and got my answer.

Mike! I'd know those buttocks anywhere. I was enraged and paralyzed at the same time. I was ready to rip the two of them apart. And then I took another look. And I was ashamed, watching my daughter in the throes of orgasm. I closed the door and walked as calmly to the library as I could manage on the stairs. I found a phone in the desk.

“Fairfax, I want the barn job terminated ... I know, but I've changed my mind. Let the next generation do something with it. The main house is trouble enough. I'm tired of construction noise and commotion all the time.” My voice was shaking. He knew not to mess with me.

I punched more numbers. “Luna!” I was close to sobbing. “My own child!” I broke down. “As if I'd never find out!” She was saying nothing. “Are you there? Luna?” Yes came the most timid response I've ever heard from her. “How could he do this? How could he?”

“Dear, calm down. It isn't Willis's fault,” Luna said.

“Willis? Who's talking about Willis?” Dead silence from Luna. “I'm talking about Mike! And Emmalene!”

She shrieked with laughter! I know it was laughter although she claimed it was shock and sympathy. It only sounded like laughter, she said. Believe me, you don't know someone for forty years and not know her laugh!

“Wait! Why are you talking about Willis? What's Willis got to do with ….” Suddenly I knew the truth – or glimpsed it. “You and Willis! You and Willis! No wonder you said no to the carpenter. YOU! AND WILLIS!”

“Now, Marlee, don't ...” I hung up on the bitch and went back up the stairs. I encountered Emma and Mike in the hall.

“Momma, I can explain,” Emmalene wailed.

“I doubt it,” I said to her and stalked down the hall. I opened the door to Willis's room. “WILLIS! GET YOUR ASS UP!”

“Whuh ...” he mumbled.

“Are YOU and LUNA SMITH having an AFFAIR?”

“Affair?” He said it carefully, like a foreign word, and yawned. “Gosh no, Momma.”

I didn't know what possible excuse he might make; but, like all mothers, my heart took a leap. I was willing to listen. I hoped against hope he had some kind of explanation.

“We're not having an AFFAIR ... Jeez, Momma … It's just a hook up.” The boy rolled his eyes at me. Rolled his eyes! Can you believe it? AT HIS OWN MOTHER!

I said to Fairfax later, “He's too old to spank and too young to get away with it. DO SOMETHING!” And of course Fairfax told me to ask his 'father' what I should do. So I did; and, as it turned out, Tommy Lynn had the answer.

“I'm going to Kazakhstan for business in August. I'll take Will along. When we get back he can go right to school. Kazakhstan is no day at the beach. A day in K'stan is like a month any place else.”
 
As the World of Old Virginny turns . . . .

OK, the kids get an education and the parents an even bigger one!

You do such a great weaving of these tales for us.
 
Rory! :wave:

I'm incapable of completely conveying just how much I'm enjoying this! (!) (!w!)

And, picturing my Virginia (Quaker) relatives in the process! :lol:

I'm sure Willis will be "safe" with Tommy Lynn, too! :badgrin:
 
I love the hypocrisy in this delightful saga. Marlee vs Luna, Will, Mike and Emma. Fairfax certainly got out of that one easily... Tommy Lynn may have more problems than he anticipates with Will in K'stan. I'm just sorry I don't live in the Virginia Area. I'd love to get involved....

Craiger
 
Chapter Fifteen – Roy


So I'm gay. I suspected it for a while, long enough to tell Emma about it last year at school. After my night with Will, though ... well, that night kind of blew the doors off the closet in was half in and half out of, in my own mind, anyway. Any lingering suspicions of straightness were just plain silly. I had become obsessed with possibilities, walking down the street thinkin' yeah, I'd suck his dick … you bet, I'd jump on that … mmm, not so much … I was rating every guy I saw.

Of course, that made sex with Vicky different also. While I was fuckin' her I'd be thinking about sucking Will. And I don't know really shit about sucking a guy. A one-time event doesn't equal much experience, but thinking about it sure made me cum in a hurry, which annoyed Vicky. She'd like everything languorous and drawn-out. One time we were at it so long I went limp in her. I decided I should be more or less honest with her. Ok, not totally honest. I mean, do we really need to spill ALL the details about stuff?

“Vicky, you know this is just a summer thing, right? You and me? You're going back to Charlottesville and I'm going way off to Williamsburg and ...”

“Roy, they're only about a hundred miles apart.”

“But psychologically speaking, they're two different worlds and I won't have wheels ...”

“I will. Daddy's giving me a VW Beetle for my good grades last year.”

“See, mine weren't so good. I need to be hitting the books this year.”

“What are you really saying? You don't want us being a couple?”

“Yeah, I guess. It wouldn't work, and it would just get in the way of other stuff.”

“What's Other Stuff's name? Emmalene Perry?” She was sounding testy.

“Vicky,” I heaved a sigh.

“But we're going to the hunt in Paw Paw next week aren't we?” I nodded. “And maybe staying the night together, right?” I nodded again. “And in August ...”

I promised we'd have a great rest-of-the-summer together and that satisfied her. I don't think she was into me that much anyway. I had to make one promise for Thanksgiving in case she didn't have another date, but our tie was pretty much cut.

That left me walking around with my dick hanging out, metaphorically speaking. With Will avoiding me, my usual sources for amusement had become solo activities. I wondered about the gay dude at UnderArmor; would he be interested in more than talking about it? What was his name? Arturo? It was hot the way he looked right at my dick. I was getting hard at the memory. Man, those burning eyes, staring … He'd suck me off for sure if I offered. After a couple of days of thinking on it, I had basically convinced myself this guy Arturo was ready to ford streams to get at me. So I drove all the way to Tyson's and showed up at UnderArmor about ten minutes before closing. I spotted a clerk who was folding clothes. “Dude, is Arturo here?”

He hesitated. “Oh, you mean Arcuri. No, he left early tonight. Can I help?”

“Uh, no … thanks. I was lookin' for Arcuri.” Shit. A forty-mile drive wasted. I slowly wandered the Mall while the stores closed and the crowd thinned out. I was walking aimlessly looking in windows at stuff I didn't want and then was brought up short by a voice.

“You're the guy looking for Arcuri, right?” It was the UnderArmor clerk. I nodded. “A lot of guys come looking for him.” The clerk looked me up and down. “I remember. You bought some shorts.” He stared at my fly and made me wonder if it was unzipped. His eyes returned to mine. “You looked good in those shorts … the white ones.” The transparent ones! He remembered! “You want to come home with me?” Man these Washington guys don't mess around. He lived about two Beltway exits away in a one-bedroom apartment in a low-rise building surrounded by parking lots.

I walked into a spartan living room and he closed the door behind us. “Strip,” he said. “Let's see what we're workin' with.” I hesitated and he said, “You were going to ask Arcuri for advice, right? So ask … and strip while you're askin'.”

I was gonna see if maybe he could teach me how to suck dick. I'm not very good at it and I've only been sucked once … er, twice, sort of.”

“We can deal with that later. First, we're gonna improve your looks. Come on. Get 'em off. I don't have all night.”

I took a deep breath and started undressing. “My name's Roy.” I hesitated again, waiting for his answer, standing in my drawers, until his glare told me to get out of them too.

“Jesus!” He made it sound hopeless. It was the most discouraging comment on my appearance I'd ever heard. “Dude … Roy … whatever your name is … Nobody can admire the jewels if they're all covered up. Come here.” He got some scissors out of a table and started trimming my pubes. My cock began to react. “This is NOT the time for an erection,” he said in a professional voice and I wilted on the spot. There was nothing sensual in the least about his efficient barbering skills. “Step back,” he ordered and examined his work. “Much better. Now turn around.” I could feel his eyes on me. “Your ass is your best feature. Remember that. Now kneel.”

I knelt in from of him. “You want me to suck you?”

“I want you to kneel so I can trim your hair some. Frame your face better … Give you an off-center part … You have nice eyes.” I closed my 'nice eyes' and he snipped and combed for a bit and then ordered me to take a shower. “Wash you dick thoroughly and we'll get to the suckin' stuff.”

When I came out of the shower, his manner was less brusque. He toweled me off, getting me semi-aroused in the process. “Your dick looks nice, now that we can see it,” he said. “Ok, sit on the edge of the bed.” This time he knelt in front of me and pushed on my chest to make me lie back. “Relax and pay attention.”

As he came closer, my dick began to respond, almost jumping into his mouth. He started sucking me and I quickly became fully hard. “If a guy isn't hard,” he said, “Don't pressure him. Make him think you LIKE suckin' limp dicks. Lick it. Kiss it. Stroke it. He'll get there eventually.” He sucked me some more. “You don't have that problem,” he chuckled. “And if the guy is too big for you, use your hands as an extension of your mouth, like this ...”

I gasped and came. “Sorry, I didn't expect that. It came on me really fast.” I sat up and looked around for my clothes. I had a strong urge to get dressed and get the hell out – in a hurry.

“Where are you goin'? We're not DONE, dude. Besides I put your clothes in the washer – they smelled sweaty. You wanted to learn how to suck cock and so far I been doin' all the sucking.” He was standing in front of me, almost dancing, moving sinuously in time to some music playing only in his head, and stripping. He turned away from me to take his underwear off. I noticed he had no tan lines. He turned and showed me a big dick and it wasn't hard yet. He had almost no pubic hair, just a closely-trimmed burr. He came closer and held my head while he rubbed his dick over my face. “You like it?” he asked softly. Instead of saying yes, I tried to suck it, but he pulled away every time I tried.

“You smell nice,” I said reacting to the mixed scents of musk, cock, and coconut I inhaled from his pelvis. He just grunted uh-huh and kept rubbing his cock over my face.

“Now suck me the way I sucked you.” He stood close and stopped gyrating. “That's right. Get it all wet … I'm big, so use your hands … Slower at first … Let it expand in your mouth … Nice … Now use a firmer grip … Try to sense how I'm feeling … Pace things … That's nice ...”

He pulled away and moved to the bed. “You're hard again. We'll try some sixty-nine, ok?”

“Yeah, sure,” was what I said. I felt like telling him I'd do anything he wanted. I was liking everything we did.

“Remember, in sixty-nine, your job is to get me off and my job is to get you off. So pay attention to me and pace yourself to what I'm feeling and just let the rest happen, ok?”

I did my best to follow his instructions but he soon had me on the brink of cumming again and I had no idea what he was feeling at all. “Are you close?” I asked him.

“Can't you tell? How tight are my balls? How fast am I breathing?”

“Your ballsack is almost as hard as your cock. Your breathing is slow but kind of ragged.”

“So I'm close. Keep suckin'.”

I came first, but he was right behind me. He held my head and deep-throat fucked me. In a couple strokes his orgasm was over. By the clock it must have been pretty quick, but to me I thought first I'd suffocate from having his cock down my throat and then I worried about drowning in his cum. Neither happened and I felt a sense of accomplishment when he withdrew.

He turned around in the bed and we were looking at each other. “Breath control is important.”

“NOW you tell me.” I was proud I had managed to take it and impulsively kissed him. He pulled away as if I was poison.

“This is a lesson, not a love affair.” He sounded pissed. “Take another shower. You got cum on your face.”

I took a quickie and stepped out of the stall. He was back in his mellow mood and dried me off almost as much with his own body as with the towel. I could feel him embrace me from behind and slip his cock right into my ass crack. It felt good, without thinking I pushed back.

“Stop it. Fucking is a whole separate lesson. And you need to learn how to control things. Maybe you don't want fucking. You need to be ready to handle it.”

“I can handle it,” I told him.

“You think?” He shoved me onto the bed and before I could even try to defend myself, he grabbed my right wrist and held it behind my back, using his body weight to pin both arms. His other hand went to my throat. His body insinuated itself between my legs and rolled me up. “Feel that?” he asked. “That's my dick on your asshole. I could fuck you right now and you couldn't do a thing to stop me.” I felt a stronger pressure on my hole, like he was gonna do it, but he stopped. Instead he rhythmically pressed against me, almost massaging my hole. I groaned; it felt good in a strange way. He took his hand off my throat and moved it to my dick. I groaned again with a new sense of pleasure. I could hear his hand moving noisily, with a squish-squish, like he had slicked me up with lube.

“You are SO liking this. Your cock's dribbling in my hand.” He was right. Very quickly I felt myself cumming. And I think he actually did fuck me a little. I sure felt something in my ass. Not all the way, but something was there. My orgasm didn't last long and you could almost say it hurt a little, totally draining me; but when it was over, I felt limp and relaxed in the best possible way. This time he gave me a little kiss, soft and gentle. I wanted more, but he pulled away.

“I thought that was part of the lesson.” I felt totally wiped out and relaxed in his hold, wishing he'd kiss me again.

“Your first lover is in for a huge treat,” he laughed. “Now get dressed. My boyfriend will be home in a few minutes.” He pulled my clothes out from under the bed.

“I thought you washed 'em.”

“What do you think I am? A laundry service? That was just to keep you here. You can leave me some money on the table.”

Money? There had been no discussion of money. I didn't owe him anything. On the other hand, I did get quite a lesson. I counted out fifty dollars and out it on the table.

Without even looking, he said, “Is that all you're giving me? You came three times in two and a half hours!” I gave him another fifty from my hay harvest earnings and hoped I had enough gas to get home.

I made it home and got into bed. I remembered the feeling, that magic pressure on my asshole and wondered how much a fuck lesson would cost from … he never told me his name.
 
Wow! Roy's a fast learner. Not only in the sex lessons, but in the financial aspect as well. Good for Roy. Going out there and getting to know himself. He could teach Will a thing or two now....:-) So glad he had a nice talk with Vicky....

Craiger
 
Rory,
That was an interesting chapter - schoolin' and such can be such HARD work.

Certainly had me rising to the occasion!
 
Hmmm ... Just a bit scary with the whole throat thing, and all. :eek: :help:

Then, again, we're talkin' Washington boys! :badgrin:

Butt ... Good for Roy braving the adventure, and learning a bit more about Man Sex! (!) (!w!)

MORE, Please! (group)

And, of course ... No Matter What ...

Keep Smilin'!! :kiss: (*8*)
Chaz :luv:
 
Chapter Sixteen – Mike


Emma gets a lecture from her mother on birth control and I get fired. How is that fair? The whole thing had been Emma's idea. I was just a stunt-double standing in for her boy friend who she said was gay. She actually called me a 'double'. Not hardly, I told her – unless you mean double the cock. She did appreciate THAT difference. Then, it got worse; after we lost the whole job, Frank was as pissed off as Marlee.

“Mike, I have kept quiet about your … supplemental income. But you just about fucked the ENTIRE family! This can't happen again!”

“Not the husband. I didn't fuck the husband.”

“I can't believe we are having this conversation and that YOU are quibbling over the husband.”

Frank's anger was tempered by the sound of Refo laughing at us in the kitchen. “Come on,” Refo called. “It's the first corn of the season. Get it while it's hot.”

“You're coming to Delaware with me tomorrow,” Frank hissed as we went to the dinner table. Sarah Felsen, a weird woman I am getting to like and who has never asked me for a thing more than an iced tea, joined us at the table. She gave me a mock high-five, a huge smile, and whispered that she wanted all the details later.

“Not the husband? So sad ...” she pretend-whispered, making sure Frank could hear.

During the long, pre-dawn drive from Rockingham County to Georgetown, Delaware, I had to put up with more lecturing from Frank. The kid Frank had hired sat in the second seat and tried not to listen until Frank forced his attention.

“You hear this, Layton? This goes for you, too!”

“Yes, sir,” the teenager replied.

We finally arrived and got out of the car. Layton with a conspiratorial air asked me, “The whole family?” He actually looked hurt when I told him to shut up and get to work.

The work was an engineered steel building about a hundred feet long and double-wide. The twin-peaked roof acted as a water-catchment system intended to feed a machine for washing eggs. We didn't need to install the machine, we just had to run the pipes. 'Experts' were coming for the machine installation. I've never been crazy about pipe laying - I'm a carpenter; I like wood work - but there wasn't much to it, mostly just assembly of preformed parts and pieces. We wrapped up the job by mid-afternoon; and, after the foreman approved the completion and signed all the papers, we were ready to leave when Butch showed up. Wearing a God-damned suit! And looking like he could star in a television show about people who wear suits and look good doing it. I don't even own a suit.

He was friendly and businesslike with Frank, talking about the building and how quickly he needed to get it into service. I wondered if he even noticed me. Then when he and Frank were done, he approached and held out his hand. “Mike ...”

That was all it took to tear me all up again. I wanted the world to go away. I wanted to kiss him and hold him and never let go. Instead I shook his hand almost formally. “Hey, Butch.”

Our handshake turned into hand-holding. He gripped my hand with both of his and just held on until Frank was gone. I saw pain in his eyes. We didn't need to talk. Our circumstances were still the same; nothing had changed. Finally he said, “I think the days I lived at your house will always be the best days of my life.” He squeezed my hand and left, walking briskly toward a waiting SUV.

I didn't shout it so I don't think he heard me say, “I love you, Butch.” I blinked a few tears out of my eyes. I took a deep breath and watched him drive away.

Fortunately, nobody talked much as we packed our gear into the bed of Frank's truck. I told Layton to sit in front and I slept in the crew seat most of the way home. I woke up as Frank pulled off I-66.

“Just a quick stop before the sun goes down,” Frank explained. “Mr. Hamilton, or I guess maybe his wife, wants a big deck and a swimming pool. I want to eyeball the lay of the land before making a bid. We'll probably have to sub out the pool and some earthmoving.”

Good, I though. I hate concrete work. It's almost as bad as plumbing. There wasn't anything for me to do as I watched Frank and Layton pace off some plaots and take some measurements. I leaned against the truck and hoped sundown would lower the temperature.

“Hi. You must be Mike. I'm Yolanda Hamilton. My husband Hershel couldn't be here.”

“Pleased to meet you.” I turned to greet her and bumped into her breasts. Now, from all I know, women don't go around jamming their breasts into people accidentally. “Yes, I AM Mike. That's Frank and Layton.”

“Would you mind looking at some interior work I'm thinking about? Some built-ins for the master bedroom closet? Just tell me if you think it's feasible?” She finally backed off me.

“Frank,” I called out, “I'm goin' with Mrs. Hamilton to look at some optional work.”

“Oh, call me Yolanda,” she said in a breathless, girlish voice. “I'm not used to Mrs. Hamilton, which isn't our real name anyway.”

Just accept what they say. Don't ask questions, I told myself. When we got to the top of the stairs I noticed two buttons on her blouse were open. The closet she wanted worked on was huge, as big as my bedroom a home, and jammed with racks of clothes.

“You can see the problem,” she said. “Can you squeeze through? Is there enough room?” There wasn't, enabling her to get a feel of my ass. “Sorry,” she said. “The part I want to show you is back here, by the window ...” She pushed up against me and brushed her hand against my cock. “Do we have to play games? You know where this is going, right?” She gave me a squeeze. Here we go again, I thought. I agreed to return the next day to take measurements of the closet.

“Tomorrow? Hershel's in Boston until the weekend. I was hoping you could start tonight. I don't mind paying for a little overtime.”
 
Mike of the Chippendale Mikes.

An interesting chapter all around. What's a guy gonna do - especially after the bittersweet impromptu reunion with your one true love?
 
I don't think Mike is ever going to learn...:-) Sometimes you just have to slap those hands away and excuse yourself. Frank better not hear about it else Mike may have to make his love making his permanent job....

Craiger
 
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