I know - we had that conversation - was just listing another of your creds - I enjoyed the traveling salesman and his entourage.
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Country Cousins
- Thread starter EasyRory
- Start date
EasyRory
JUB Addict
Chapter Twenty-Two - Fairfax
It was heart-warming to have the family back together for Christmas. It wasn't the same, exactly, not like the years when Willis and Emma were young; but we were together at least and cordial most of the time. We were four independent people, however, not quite as detached as ships passing in the night; but some of those nights a quick wave was all we exchanged. One morning, however, was different.
“I found some amazing underwear in my drawer. Did Laverne make a mistake? They're a vivid blue with electric lime stripes. Are they yours, Dad?” Willis asked. He slipped and called me Dad. I like it when he does that.
I glanced at Marlee to see what her reaction was. She looked flustered. The garment in question wasn't mind, but I thought I knew who the owner was. Marlee, after clearing her throat nervously, spoke up.
“Are you sure, Willis? I bought you some colorful things to take back to school.”
“Not like these,” Willis joked. “Nothing like these!”
I could have solved the problem but decided to let Marlee worry. I could see her thinking to herself, “Did that masseur leave his underwear behind?” She wasn't fooling me with that talk about lower back trouble. That masseur was way more obvious than the carpenter had been.
“What's the big deal, Will?” Emma asked. “Just throw them away.”
“Throw them away? I'm wearing them. They're very comfortable. I'm going to buy some more, if I can afford them. Do you know boxers cost $12 a pair? And that's for the plain ones. What a scam! I bet they cost fifty cents in China.”
“Or Indonesia,” I suggested.
“Wherever ...” Willis moved on to a new topic. “I'm taking Amy Welburn to the Christmas dinner. Hope it goes better than the Halloween thing.”
“Amy who?”
“That girl in the pink dress you made me talk to. Remember? When you wouldn't let me take Vicky home.”
“Oh … yes, where is she from?”
“The Eastern Shore. Richmond now.”
“I don't know any Welburns in Richmond.”
“Now you do.” Willis got up from breakfast and I noticed the brief appearance of the vivid green waistband to his underwear above his jeans.
Ah, yes. Those underwear … It was Vicky's fault really. After our little session in the Porsche, she actually called me up and invited me to Charlottesville. Words like 'brazen hussy' came to mind, but come on, this isn't like our parents day. Girls can call up … girls can reserve motel rooms … girls can take advantage of lonely men. 'Course, they've always done that, I guess. So with Marlee ignoring me and Tommy Lynn going all frigid, what was I supposed to do?
Going to Charlottesville and fucking her probably wasn't it, not the smartest thing I've ever done; but we Perrys are hot-blooded. That's what my daddy used to say. Now I think I know why. Self-justification. Somehow Momma took it better than Marlee is doing. How she found out about the blow job I'll never know.
Guilt works its wiles, though. Vicky wanted a repeat and I had my doubts. Vicky had broadly admired some fancy handbag and hinted it would make a great Christmas present. I decided to talk to Tommy Lynn. After being lovers for thirty years, we still had an attachment that went beyond business.
I should have called first, but I didn't – we always just dropped-in. I could have knocked, I guess; but I didn't. I just walked in and started talking. “Tommy,” I said. “I need some advice. WHOA! OOPS! Who is he?”
He, the person fucking Tommy, was Dasher, Tommy explained after they got untangled. Dasher was a companion Tommy had arranged for the evening.
“Here, let me show you. You might be interested,” Dasher said. He walked to a chair and pulled on his underwear. Electric blue with lime green stripes. Like nothing I'd ever seen before. They made his ass look amazing. He held out a printed flyer to me. “See … that's me, Dasher, and there's Prancer, Vixen … The owner thinks reindeer names will be fun for the season and all. I gotta warn you, though, Donner and Blitzen only work together. So if you're interested, and who wouldn't be, right? Call. You might not get me; it's a busy time of year. But somebody, probably Cupid, will always be available.”
“What's wrong with Cupid?”
“Nothing, but he's the boss's favorite squeeze. He only works if we're really busy.”
I looked over at Tommy. He was covered up by the bed clothes and just shrugged at me. I was fascinated.
“I probably can't afford you,” I said.
“We have several payment options if cash doesn't suit you … Visa, Mastercard, or local debit cards.”
“Debit cards?”
“Yes, they're for people who can't get credit cards. Not you, I bet.” Dasher smiled and seemed to be waiting to take my order. “No? Maybe after the holidays, huh? At the end of January were switching over to candy names for Valentines day. I'm going to be 'Oh Henry', if you call.” He looked over at Tommy. “Either of you.”
Dasher, still standing in just his blue and green underwear, looked like he'd be worth every penny of whatever he charges. He was exactly my type - athletically built, but not exaggerated, a light tan left over from summer (or maybe from some tanning salon), brown shaggy hair with very subtle highlights (that might even be natural considering the light dusting of blond hair on his chest and arms) and an ample cock.
“Fair, I can explain,” Tommy began.
“You don't need to. I get it totally. I just don't want to see a reindeer dinner on your expense statement.”
“It can be billed as photographic services, if you prefer,” Dasher commented. Neither one of us spoke. “So I guess that means I'm done for tonight?”
“Let me get you something,” Tommy said and got out of bed, quickly wrapping a bathrobe around himself. He went into another room whileDasher started to get dressed.
“Dasher, if you're good for another round, stop by the big house. Knock at the side door by the garage.”
“Tommy came but I didn't. So, yeah, I'm ready. Did I mention our Frequent Fucker program? Every fifth time is free. What are you interested in?”
“The basics. Nothing too weird. Give me a few minutes with Tommy.” I winked at him as Tommy returned and gave Dasher his tip in an envelope.
“You still have a nice ass, Tommy.”
He waited for Dasher to leave before answering. “Why are you here?”
“Well, that kind of direct. Don't I get a little hug before the cross-examination?”
“You're the lawyer. I'm the accountant. Why are you here?”
“I've been fooling around with a young woman who … how do I say this? … who can envision an expensive Christmas present.”
“Is she professional?”
“The bottom line? She is Vicky La Gerbille.”
“You fool. She's fucking half the county. She tried to snag Willis, too.”
“Not half the county. Just Royal Eustis, that carpenter, and now me.”
“You mean it's true? Luna's threesome story?”
“I don't actually know. She says things. Then she says different things. The facts don't always match. What's the difference?”
“The difference is if you can prove she's a BUSY young woman, she can't really blackmail you.”
“How do you know? I'm the lawyer.”
“Our client, Hershel Hamilton, was involved in a similar case. He got out of it with a very small trust benefiting a child who may or may not be his. You have been taking precautions, I assume.”
“Well, so far it's only one blow job and one night in a Charlottesville motel.”
“Fair, you sure know how to ruin the mood.”
“The reindeer was that good? What's his real name anyway?”
“I have no idea.” Tommy tried to keep a straight face, but couldn't. We both laughed, promising to figure out the Vicky thing in the morning.
An hour later I was able to answer my question. Dasher's name was Devon Divine, maybe. That's the name he gave me after I signed up for the four-fuck and a freebie plan. I hadn't planned to do it, but he's so much tighter than Vicky. In fact he's amazing in bed; I felt twenty with him. He even got me hard again in the shower and that hasn't happened since I really was twenty. I'm going to meet him in town, I think.
Hershel Hamilton said the Hay-Adams has a very understanding and discrete hotel management. He claims even Bill Clinton trusts the Hay-Adams. Boys, girls, games, it all goes down there and stays quiet, as long as you don't wreck the room.
It was heart-warming to have the family back together for Christmas. It wasn't the same, exactly, not like the years when Willis and Emma were young; but we were together at least and cordial most of the time. We were four independent people, however, not quite as detached as ships passing in the night; but some of those nights a quick wave was all we exchanged. One morning, however, was different.
“I found some amazing underwear in my drawer. Did Laverne make a mistake? They're a vivid blue with electric lime stripes. Are they yours, Dad?” Willis asked. He slipped and called me Dad. I like it when he does that.
I glanced at Marlee to see what her reaction was. She looked flustered. The garment in question wasn't mind, but I thought I knew who the owner was. Marlee, after clearing her throat nervously, spoke up.
“Are you sure, Willis? I bought you some colorful things to take back to school.”
“Not like these,” Willis joked. “Nothing like these!”
I could have solved the problem but decided to let Marlee worry. I could see her thinking to herself, “Did that masseur leave his underwear behind?” She wasn't fooling me with that talk about lower back trouble. That masseur was way more obvious than the carpenter had been.
“What's the big deal, Will?” Emma asked. “Just throw them away.”
“Throw them away? I'm wearing them. They're very comfortable. I'm going to buy some more, if I can afford them. Do you know boxers cost $12 a pair? And that's for the plain ones. What a scam! I bet they cost fifty cents in China.”
“Or Indonesia,” I suggested.
“Wherever ...” Willis moved on to a new topic. “I'm taking Amy Welburn to the Christmas dinner. Hope it goes better than the Halloween thing.”
“Amy who?”
“That girl in the pink dress you made me talk to. Remember? When you wouldn't let me take Vicky home.”
“Oh … yes, where is she from?”
“The Eastern Shore. Richmond now.”
“I don't know any Welburns in Richmond.”
“Now you do.” Willis got up from breakfast and I noticed the brief appearance of the vivid green waistband to his underwear above his jeans.
Ah, yes. Those underwear … It was Vicky's fault really. After our little session in the Porsche, she actually called me up and invited me to Charlottesville. Words like 'brazen hussy' came to mind, but come on, this isn't like our parents day. Girls can call up … girls can reserve motel rooms … girls can take advantage of lonely men. 'Course, they've always done that, I guess. So with Marlee ignoring me and Tommy Lynn going all frigid, what was I supposed to do?
Going to Charlottesville and fucking her probably wasn't it, not the smartest thing I've ever done; but we Perrys are hot-blooded. That's what my daddy used to say. Now I think I know why. Self-justification. Somehow Momma took it better than Marlee is doing. How she found out about the blow job I'll never know.
Guilt works its wiles, though. Vicky wanted a repeat and I had my doubts. Vicky had broadly admired some fancy handbag and hinted it would make a great Christmas present. I decided to talk to Tommy Lynn. After being lovers for thirty years, we still had an attachment that went beyond business.
I should have called first, but I didn't – we always just dropped-in. I could have knocked, I guess; but I didn't. I just walked in and started talking. “Tommy,” I said. “I need some advice. WHOA! OOPS! Who is he?”
He, the person fucking Tommy, was Dasher, Tommy explained after they got untangled. Dasher was a companion Tommy had arranged for the evening.
“Here, let me show you. You might be interested,” Dasher said. He walked to a chair and pulled on his underwear. Electric blue with lime green stripes. Like nothing I'd ever seen before. They made his ass look amazing. He held out a printed flyer to me. “See … that's me, Dasher, and there's Prancer, Vixen … The owner thinks reindeer names will be fun for the season and all. I gotta warn you, though, Donner and Blitzen only work together. So if you're interested, and who wouldn't be, right? Call. You might not get me; it's a busy time of year. But somebody, probably Cupid, will always be available.”
“What's wrong with Cupid?”
“Nothing, but he's the boss's favorite squeeze. He only works if we're really busy.”
I looked over at Tommy. He was covered up by the bed clothes and just shrugged at me. I was fascinated.
“I probably can't afford you,” I said.
“We have several payment options if cash doesn't suit you … Visa, Mastercard, or local debit cards.”
“Debit cards?”
“Yes, they're for people who can't get credit cards. Not you, I bet.” Dasher smiled and seemed to be waiting to take my order. “No? Maybe after the holidays, huh? At the end of January were switching over to candy names for Valentines day. I'm going to be 'Oh Henry', if you call.” He looked over at Tommy. “Either of you.”
Dasher, still standing in just his blue and green underwear, looked like he'd be worth every penny of whatever he charges. He was exactly my type - athletically built, but not exaggerated, a light tan left over from summer (or maybe from some tanning salon), brown shaggy hair with very subtle highlights (that might even be natural considering the light dusting of blond hair on his chest and arms) and an ample cock.
“Fair, I can explain,” Tommy began.
“You don't need to. I get it totally. I just don't want to see a reindeer dinner on your expense statement.”
“It can be billed as photographic services, if you prefer,” Dasher commented. Neither one of us spoke. “So I guess that means I'm done for tonight?”
“Let me get you something,” Tommy said and got out of bed, quickly wrapping a bathrobe around himself. He went into another room whileDasher started to get dressed.
“Dasher, if you're good for another round, stop by the big house. Knock at the side door by the garage.”
“Tommy came but I didn't. So, yeah, I'm ready. Did I mention our Frequent Fucker program? Every fifth time is free. What are you interested in?”
“The basics. Nothing too weird. Give me a few minutes with Tommy.” I winked at him as Tommy returned and gave Dasher his tip in an envelope.
“You still have a nice ass, Tommy.”
He waited for Dasher to leave before answering. “Why are you here?”
“Well, that kind of direct. Don't I get a little hug before the cross-examination?”
“You're the lawyer. I'm the accountant. Why are you here?”
“I've been fooling around with a young woman who … how do I say this? … who can envision an expensive Christmas present.”
“Is she professional?”
“The bottom line? She is Vicky La Gerbille.”
“You fool. She's fucking half the county. She tried to snag Willis, too.”
“Not half the county. Just Royal Eustis, that carpenter, and now me.”
“You mean it's true? Luna's threesome story?”
“I don't actually know. She says things. Then she says different things. The facts don't always match. What's the difference?”
“The difference is if you can prove she's a BUSY young woman, she can't really blackmail you.”
“How do you know? I'm the lawyer.”
“Our client, Hershel Hamilton, was involved in a similar case. He got out of it with a very small trust benefiting a child who may or may not be his. You have been taking precautions, I assume.”
“Well, so far it's only one blow job and one night in a Charlottesville motel.”
“Fair, you sure know how to ruin the mood.”
“The reindeer was that good? What's his real name anyway?”
“I have no idea.” Tommy tried to keep a straight face, but couldn't. We both laughed, promising to figure out the Vicky thing in the morning.
An hour later I was able to answer my question. Dasher's name was Devon Divine, maybe. That's the name he gave me after I signed up for the four-fuck and a freebie plan. I hadn't planned to do it, but he's so much tighter than Vicky. In fact he's amazing in bed; I felt twenty with him. He even got me hard again in the shower and that hasn't happened since I really was twenty. I'm going to meet him in town, I think.
Hershel Hamilton said the Hay-Adams has a very understanding and discrete hotel management. He claims even Bill Clinton trusts the Hay-Adams. Boys, girls, games, it all goes down there and stays quiet, as long as you don't wreck the room.
Craiger
JUB Addict
Good for old Fairfax. Nice to see he isn't missing out now that Marlee and Tommy have cut him off. Of course he is taking his chances with Vicky. At least we know where those brightly colored underwear came from and now Will has them. I wonder how he would feel wearing them if he knew someone as dashing as Dasher had owned them....
Craiger
Craiger
Rory,
They aren't keeping down on the farm much, are they?
Now we know where the underwear CAME from . . .
Why am I feeling all gooey inside? . . .
They aren't keeping down on the farm much, are they?
Now we know where the underwear CAME from . . .
Why am I feeling all gooey inside? . . .
EasyRory
JUB Addict
I wanted to leave you with a more upbeat chapter for the weekend, but ... events prevented that.
I think we weren't hurting too much from this one.
EasyRory
JUB Addict
Chapter Twenty-Three
The instant I could get away from my Christmas-besotted family I headed for Mike's. I had warned him the day before by text I was going to do this, so I just charged ahead. It was mid-afternoon on Saturday when I got there, so I shouldn't have been surprised that he wasn't home. Shouldn't have been doesn't mean I wasn't disappointed. My visions of our reunion were wiped away. In the more dramatic versions of my dreams I got fucked right on the front porch, but realistically, I just hoped for a smile and maybe a hug. That was much more like Mike. In no version of the dream, waking or sleeping, was I alone and waiting. Waiting is hard.
The cackling reminded me I wasn't quite alone. The chickens scrutinized me carefully as I approached, their pea brains contained no memory of my previous visit. They correctly sensed I had no food and scattered as I entered their yard.
“Ah-ha,” I told them, “Here's what you don't realize. I KNOW where the food is.” I picked up the rake and began clearing their yard. “And if you're good little chickens, there may be something in it for you.”
I'm not sure what behavior would constitute 'good' in a chicken. Not attacking me, I suppose, or crapping on my shoes … that would be a place to start. I raked the accumulated leaves into a pile and then watched as the chickens more or less dove into the pile, pecking at the leaves and scattering them. Ingrates every one, they don't appreciate a clean yard.
“That's why you're poor, stupid chickens,” I told them. “Momma says there's nobody too poor to pick up his yard.” She actually said this in reference to some slums in Washington, but I figured it applied to chickens, too. I raked the yard again and they did the same thing, restoring the mess.
“Fuck y'all.” I put the rake away checked out the hen house. Clearly their roost could use some cleaning out and fresh straw. The birds ignored me as I got that part of the job done. I gave them some fresh water with the warning, “Naughty chickens, you've lost your mittens ...” No, no, wrong nursery rhyme. Then I heard Mike's truck. Double fuck 'em, I thought as I closed the coop.
“Roy!” Mike was somehow astonished seeing me.
“God damn chickens. I clean their yard and then they mess it all up again. Twice.”
Mike smiled. “What do you mean?” I explained and he laughed again. “They eat the grubs and stuff on the underside of the leaves. It's their protein. You were killing their dinner.”
So stupid – me, not the chickens. “I was trying to help.” And that was the perfect thing to say. Warm-hearted Mike hugged me on the spot. When he tried to pull away, I held on, raised myself on my tiptoes and kissed him. That got me his best smile, the one that makes me tingle; and he kissed me back. We broke, stood apart, and then he kissed me again. Or did I kiss him? I reached under his denim jacket and felt his body covered by the single layer of his shirt's flannel. I could feel the warmth, the muscles in his back, and I pulled him against me. We finally broke apart and walked to the house.
“I texted you.”
“I'm not a hundred percent good at carrying my phone all the time,” he explained. Inside he said, “I should take a shower.”
“Don't do it for me. I like you just the way you are.”
So we went to bed just the way we were, me smelling a little of chicken shit and Mike smelling a little of work. We didn't go to Frank and Refo's for dinner, we just stayed in bed. At some point we slept; then very early in the morning, when it was still dark, Frank made some eggs. We went back to bed and slept a little more. I woke first; it was a day of winter clouds, keeping the bedroom dark. I wanted to kiss him, but that would wake him up. I lay quietly, sensing his breathing, touching him gently, and finally holding his soft cock in my hand. I didn't do a thing, I swear, no stroking, no jacking. It just grew on its own. I snuggled against him and heard his voice.
“I like you holding me like that. Nice way to wake up.”
“Are we going to have more sex?”
“Right now? Sure if you want.” He hugged me against his body. “If you want to fuck me again, I should use the bathroom first.”
“No. I want you in me. And don't tell me “too soon” again.”
“I still need the bathroom. Be right back.” When he returned to bed, he kissed me and asked, “Are you sure about this?”
“I need you in me.” I couldn't explain it any better. How do you explain a craving, especially a craving for something you've never had? My body ached for his. I wanted him.
I figured it would hurt a little. It hurt a lot. I figured it would be satisfying in a nice way. It blew me away. I figured Mike would be patient. He was the kindest, gentlest lover who ever started out slow and then pounded the shit out of me by the end. He tried so hard to make sure I was comfortable, and not hurting too much until some point where control got lost and his instinct took over.
My dick went limp and I took it. No, that makes it sound like I was suffering. I wanted it, the pain, a little, I guess, no denying there was that part … but I needed to be full of Mike. I wanted his whole body in me. I wanted to know what his body was feeling; I wanted to echo it. I wanted to melt from the heat, dissolve in his spunk; I wanted to make him cum. I think I cried a little when he did. I felt totally happy.
“Don't pull out!” I just wanted to feel him in me; I didn't want it to end.
He stayed in me as long as he could, but eventually it ended. When his dick finally popped out, I had no idea that I could feel so empty. He held me and kissed me and wiped tears off my face and kissed me some more.
“Did I hurt you? I tried to be ...”
I didn't want words just then. I kissed him to keep him quiet. I must have fallen back asleep. The next thing I knew I woke up alone and called his name. “Mike!”
“What” He opened the door and looked alarmed.
“Nothing. Sorry. I didn't know where I was for a minute.” I got out of bed and discovered my body still worked the way it always had. Except for a dull ache in my ass I felt unchanged by the biggest event in my life. Which is definitely what getting fucked seemed like. A monster event.
Mike looked at me and grinned. “If you want to stay naked, that would be ok. You're pretty much perfect to look at ... really brighten up the place.”
“How about if I brighten up the chicken's lives? I'm getting to like them.” I was a little nervous saying this since Mike continued to stare at me. It helped when he came across the room and hugged me. I relaxed totally when he kissed me. Well, not totally, but we both ignored my untimely erection.
“You're NOT getting to like the chickens. Nobody does.” Mike laughed.
“Why do you keep them?”
“I don't know what else to do with them. Plus, I do like the eggs. Also, a friend who's a lawyer says as long as I keep them I can tell the tax man the place is a real farm. He says that helps. You get dressed and feed the chickens and I'll make breakfast.”
When I came back to the house, I had twenty-three eggs and some feathers in my hair. Mike meanwhile hadn't made breakfast, he was working on something in the spare bedroom. Whatever it was, the wood glowed in the morning sun.
“It's a bachelor's chest, with kind of a desk attached,” he explained. “In the eighteenth century people figured everything a bachelor could possibly own would fit in these three drawers.”
“I guess everything I have at school would fit, but not at home. Guys have a lot of 'stuff' these days.”
After breakfast we went to a restaurant and Mike sold a dozen eggs. “Have to keep up the farm illusion,” he said to the owner, who was a nice-looking older woman and treated Mike with affection. “She is my father's cousin. She and Frank are just about it for family. My momma had some kin down near Roanoke, but I don't know them.”
“You're pretty much on your own, huh?” I was struck by how lonely that sounded. “And doing real well for yourself, I'd say.” I tried to make that sound cheery to make up for my first stupid remark.
“Yep.” Mike took my hard and gave it a squeeze. “When we get back home, we might could go back to bed a while.” He made it a question.
“Sure, 'cause I gotta go home tonight.”
About six hours later, with me a little unsatisfied even though I came twice, we went to Frank and Refo's for dinner. After dinner, I got satisfied. Thoroughly and completely, in case I need both words to convince anybody. I wanted Mike to fuck me in the afternoon, but he made me wait. The wait was worth it; but already I'm ready for more. I feel like I'm six waiting for my birthday. It'll be worth it, though; I do know that much.
My asshole didn't just ache; it glowed heat. I drove home around ten, already waiting, hungry for the next time.
The instant I could get away from my Christmas-besotted family I headed for Mike's. I had warned him the day before by text I was going to do this, so I just charged ahead. It was mid-afternoon on Saturday when I got there, so I shouldn't have been surprised that he wasn't home. Shouldn't have been doesn't mean I wasn't disappointed. My visions of our reunion were wiped away. In the more dramatic versions of my dreams I got fucked right on the front porch, but realistically, I just hoped for a smile and maybe a hug. That was much more like Mike. In no version of the dream, waking or sleeping, was I alone and waiting. Waiting is hard.
The cackling reminded me I wasn't quite alone. The chickens scrutinized me carefully as I approached, their pea brains contained no memory of my previous visit. They correctly sensed I had no food and scattered as I entered their yard.
“Ah-ha,” I told them, “Here's what you don't realize. I KNOW where the food is.” I picked up the rake and began clearing their yard. “And if you're good little chickens, there may be something in it for you.”
I'm not sure what behavior would constitute 'good' in a chicken. Not attacking me, I suppose, or crapping on my shoes … that would be a place to start. I raked the accumulated leaves into a pile and then watched as the chickens more or less dove into the pile, pecking at the leaves and scattering them. Ingrates every one, they don't appreciate a clean yard.
“That's why you're poor, stupid chickens,” I told them. “Momma says there's nobody too poor to pick up his yard.” She actually said this in reference to some slums in Washington, but I figured it applied to chickens, too. I raked the yard again and they did the same thing, restoring the mess.
“Fuck y'all.” I put the rake away checked out the hen house. Clearly their roost could use some cleaning out and fresh straw. The birds ignored me as I got that part of the job done. I gave them some fresh water with the warning, “Naughty chickens, you've lost your mittens ...” No, no, wrong nursery rhyme. Then I heard Mike's truck. Double fuck 'em, I thought as I closed the coop.
“Roy!” Mike was somehow astonished seeing me.
“God damn chickens. I clean their yard and then they mess it all up again. Twice.”
Mike smiled. “What do you mean?” I explained and he laughed again. “They eat the grubs and stuff on the underside of the leaves. It's their protein. You were killing their dinner.”
So stupid – me, not the chickens. “I was trying to help.” And that was the perfect thing to say. Warm-hearted Mike hugged me on the spot. When he tried to pull away, I held on, raised myself on my tiptoes and kissed him. That got me his best smile, the one that makes me tingle; and he kissed me back. We broke, stood apart, and then he kissed me again. Or did I kiss him? I reached under his denim jacket and felt his body covered by the single layer of his shirt's flannel. I could feel the warmth, the muscles in his back, and I pulled him against me. We finally broke apart and walked to the house.
“I texted you.”
“I'm not a hundred percent good at carrying my phone all the time,” he explained. Inside he said, “I should take a shower.”
“Don't do it for me. I like you just the way you are.”
So we went to bed just the way we were, me smelling a little of chicken shit and Mike smelling a little of work. We didn't go to Frank and Refo's for dinner, we just stayed in bed. At some point we slept; then very early in the morning, when it was still dark, Frank made some eggs. We went back to bed and slept a little more. I woke first; it was a day of winter clouds, keeping the bedroom dark. I wanted to kiss him, but that would wake him up. I lay quietly, sensing his breathing, touching him gently, and finally holding his soft cock in my hand. I didn't do a thing, I swear, no stroking, no jacking. It just grew on its own. I snuggled against him and heard his voice.
“I like you holding me like that. Nice way to wake up.”
“Are we going to have more sex?”
“Right now? Sure if you want.” He hugged me against his body. “If you want to fuck me again, I should use the bathroom first.”
“No. I want you in me. And don't tell me “too soon” again.”
“I still need the bathroom. Be right back.” When he returned to bed, he kissed me and asked, “Are you sure about this?”
“I need you in me.” I couldn't explain it any better. How do you explain a craving, especially a craving for something you've never had? My body ached for his. I wanted him.
I figured it would hurt a little. It hurt a lot. I figured it would be satisfying in a nice way. It blew me away. I figured Mike would be patient. He was the kindest, gentlest lover who ever started out slow and then pounded the shit out of me by the end. He tried so hard to make sure I was comfortable, and not hurting too much until some point where control got lost and his instinct took over.
My dick went limp and I took it. No, that makes it sound like I was suffering. I wanted it, the pain, a little, I guess, no denying there was that part … but I needed to be full of Mike. I wanted his whole body in me. I wanted to know what his body was feeling; I wanted to echo it. I wanted to melt from the heat, dissolve in his spunk; I wanted to make him cum. I think I cried a little when he did. I felt totally happy.
“Don't pull out!” I just wanted to feel him in me; I didn't want it to end.
He stayed in me as long as he could, but eventually it ended. When his dick finally popped out, I had no idea that I could feel so empty. He held me and kissed me and wiped tears off my face and kissed me some more.
“Did I hurt you? I tried to be ...”
I didn't want words just then. I kissed him to keep him quiet. I must have fallen back asleep. The next thing I knew I woke up alone and called his name. “Mike!”
“What” He opened the door and looked alarmed.
“Nothing. Sorry. I didn't know where I was for a minute.” I got out of bed and discovered my body still worked the way it always had. Except for a dull ache in my ass I felt unchanged by the biggest event in my life. Which is definitely what getting fucked seemed like. A monster event.
Mike looked at me and grinned. “If you want to stay naked, that would be ok. You're pretty much perfect to look at ... really brighten up the place.”
“How about if I brighten up the chicken's lives? I'm getting to like them.” I was a little nervous saying this since Mike continued to stare at me. It helped when he came across the room and hugged me. I relaxed totally when he kissed me. Well, not totally, but we both ignored my untimely erection.
“You're NOT getting to like the chickens. Nobody does.” Mike laughed.
“Why do you keep them?”
“I don't know what else to do with them. Plus, I do like the eggs. Also, a friend who's a lawyer says as long as I keep them I can tell the tax man the place is a real farm. He says that helps. You get dressed and feed the chickens and I'll make breakfast.”
When I came back to the house, I had twenty-three eggs and some feathers in my hair. Mike meanwhile hadn't made breakfast, he was working on something in the spare bedroom. Whatever it was, the wood glowed in the morning sun.
“It's a bachelor's chest, with kind of a desk attached,” he explained. “In the eighteenth century people figured everything a bachelor could possibly own would fit in these three drawers.”
“I guess everything I have at school would fit, but not at home. Guys have a lot of 'stuff' these days.”
After breakfast we went to a restaurant and Mike sold a dozen eggs. “Have to keep up the farm illusion,” he said to the owner, who was a nice-looking older woman and treated Mike with affection. “She is my father's cousin. She and Frank are just about it for family. My momma had some kin down near Roanoke, but I don't know them.”
“You're pretty much on your own, huh?” I was struck by how lonely that sounded. “And doing real well for yourself, I'd say.” I tried to make that sound cheery to make up for my first stupid remark.
“Yep.” Mike took my hard and gave it a squeeze. “When we get back home, we might could go back to bed a while.” He made it a question.
“Sure, 'cause I gotta go home tonight.”
About six hours later, with me a little unsatisfied even though I came twice, we went to Frank and Refo's for dinner. After dinner, I got satisfied. Thoroughly and completely, in case I need both words to convince anybody. I wanted Mike to fuck me in the afternoon, but he made me wait. The wait was worth it; but already I'm ready for more. I feel like I'm six waiting for my birthday. It'll be worth it, though; I do know that much.
My asshole didn't just ache; it glowed heat. I drove home around ten, already waiting, hungry for the next time.
Rory, A great Christmas present for the two of them - togetherness, a building of their love for one another.
Here's hoping Mike has true happiness - Roy, too.
Here's hoping Mike has true happiness - Roy, too.
Craiger
JUB Addict
That was romantic and erotic at the same time, Rory. It's nice to see both enjoying each others company and bodies. Roy has grown up very fast and loving every minute. Mike also seems calmer now that there is someone to honestly share life with. Awesome chapter.
Craiger
Craiger
EasyRory
JUB Addict
Chapter Twenty-Four - Refo
Sarah Felsen almost slammed the door as she came into the barn. Ok, she did slam it, but I pretended there was another cause. “Did the wind catch the door, Sarah? Maybe we should get one of those automatic closers that makes it slow and quiet.”
She growled. “He's IN LOVE with that little boy!”
“Who?” As if I didn't know ...
“Mike, idiot! Who else?” She took off her coat and accepted a cup of coffee. “It's plain disgusting what they get up to.”
“He's not a little boy. He's twenty. What's disgusting?”
“Almost twenty … that means he's NINETEEN, for God's sake. The way they look at each other … it would curdle milk.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean THE CHILD was in the kitchen doing the dishes and Mike went right up and hugged him. From the REAR! And nuzzled his neck! And then they smiled at each other! It was so creepy … I tell you.”
“They did this right in front of you?” I pretended to be horrified.
“No, I had to hold the door open a little to see them, but it was brazen. Anyone could have seen it.”
“Anyone peeking through a door they thought was closed and SPYING on them. Is that what you're trying to say?”
“That's not the point. He's going to ruin his furniture business messing around with that underaged … I don't know what to call him.”
“Who? Mike?”
“No, Roy, idiot … I had another consignment sale all lined up … with my cousin ...” She took another swallow of the coffee. “Any more coffee? It tastes good.”
“Ah … so this is really about YOU! Not Mike and Roy. YOUR sale is being … What? Delayed?”
“No, all the furniture was ready to ship. In fact, THE CHILD was polishing it when I got there.”
“So what is your problem?”
“He just doesn't take it seriously, Refo. It's a really matchless opportunity for Mike to get known in the biggest custom furniture market in the world. And it's like he couldn't care less.”
“This is Roy were talking about? Because Mike had all the stuff ready, you said.”
“No, Mike, idiot. Mike acts like it's all fun and games, when he isn't diddling THE CHILD.”
“It is all fun and games. He LIKES making furniture. If it weren't all fun and games, he WOULDN'T DO IT, Sarah.”
“I wonder how a little apple jack would go in this coffee.” She sipped thoughtfully. “Did you know the kid is doing a term paper on Mike's business. Of course, I had to help him. In fact, it's practically MY paper.”
“I thought he was pre-law. Why is he doing a paper on furniture?”
“He decided being a lawyer would take too long. He switched his major to business. And says he's bored with college. Just wants to get it over with ...”
“He's not going to quit, is he?” Now she had me worried.
“No, he's accelerated his schedule. Taking extra courses. Plans to finish in three years. So he can be with Mike, no doubt. And further fuck things up.”
“Well … I don't get it. How is he fucking things up?”
“He's giving Mike advice on material cost, time value, and sales prices, stuff like that. Fuckin' with his head AND with his … you know.”
“It all sounds reasonable to me.”
“But it's trimming the retail margin, at the risk of reduced sales.”
“Oh … now I get it. Roy is fattening Mike's margin and cutting your cousin's.”
“He's not really my cousin. He almost married my cousin and his grandfather was from the same village in Hungary as my grandmother's first husband. So it's like he's a cousin. Sort of ... You have to be from Brooklyn. It all makes sense there.”
“Leave them alone, Sarah. Don't mess. Don't wreck anything. It's the first time Mike's been happy in over a year.”
“I can't leave them alone.” Her eyes flashed. “My cousin wants to deal directly with THE CHILD! They LIKE each other. If I leave them alone, there won't be anything for ME to do.”
“You could try biochemistry. You had a fairly brilliant future in that, once upon a time. You could try practicing medicine. You have a perfectly good MD degree.”
“I'm a pediatrician, Refo. If I see one more runny-nosed two-year-old, I'll scream. And the old lab is such a long drive from here ...” There was no apple jack, so she put a splash of brandy into her coffee. “Do you know what I said to my last patient's mother? I could have lost my license if she reported me.” She took a swig from the bottle and blew her breath in and out for a bit. “You know Mike's furniture is almost as perfect as THE CHILD's ass? You don't want hand made furniture being perfect, it looks factory-made. But asses? You want those perfect ... Early in the relationship, anyway … Like with Carter and Lucien … They were like marble bookends … Did you ever get to fuck Lucien?”
She was referring to an ex-fling of mine and his boyfriend. I had a very nice time with Carter for a while, but Lucien was an unrealized dream.
“No?” She took another swig. “His ass was perfect. You know he said he loved me? He did. Pissed off Carter, telling me that. Carter never loved me.”
“Ok, Sarah.” She was still affected by the abortion of her child. She had refused to find out whether it would have been Carter's or Lucien's. “No going all morose on me. Let's go see if the apple trees are budding.” She followed me out the door.
I had planted the apple trees during the early summer the previous year. There was no way they would bear a serious crop this year, but I hoped for at least a few apples to try out the antique apple press I had got for Frank.
“He loves that boy, Refo.” Sarah continued as we walked. “I think Mike loves that boy better than he did Butch. And Roy … Roy's so fuckin' perfect I could throw up.”
“Cheer up, Sarah. He's going back to school tomorrow. Spring break is over.”
“Mike won't work as hard without him around. He's a dynamo when the kid's around. I have no clue how he can produce so much furniture when the two of them spend all their time fucking.”
“Obviously, they don't spend ALL their time in bed.”
“I don't know why not. I would … if I were Mike … or Roy.”
The late afternoon sun burst out from behind some fast moving clouds making both of us squint. The sudden brightness may have been responsible for the tears Sarah brushed away. Or not. She wasn't actually the unfeeling ogre she always pretended to be.
“Buds. We're maybe a week away from apple blossoms.”
“I like it here, Refo. I don't want to go back to Washington.” Sarah was deadly earnest.
“I like you, Sarah. Frank likes you. You can stay forever if you want. But we gotta get you a love interest.”
She laughed at the prospect. “Somebody has to be an old maid, Refo. What would the world be like without old maids?”
Sarah Felsen almost slammed the door as she came into the barn. Ok, she did slam it, but I pretended there was another cause. “Did the wind catch the door, Sarah? Maybe we should get one of those automatic closers that makes it slow and quiet.”
She growled. “He's IN LOVE with that little boy!”
“Who?” As if I didn't know ...
“Mike, idiot! Who else?” She took off her coat and accepted a cup of coffee. “It's plain disgusting what they get up to.”
“He's not a little boy. He's twenty. What's disgusting?”
“Almost twenty … that means he's NINETEEN, for God's sake. The way they look at each other … it would curdle milk.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean THE CHILD was in the kitchen doing the dishes and Mike went right up and hugged him. From the REAR! And nuzzled his neck! And then they smiled at each other! It was so creepy … I tell you.”
“They did this right in front of you?” I pretended to be horrified.
“No, I had to hold the door open a little to see them, but it was brazen. Anyone could have seen it.”
“Anyone peeking through a door they thought was closed and SPYING on them. Is that what you're trying to say?”
“That's not the point. He's going to ruin his furniture business messing around with that underaged … I don't know what to call him.”
“Who? Mike?”
“No, Roy, idiot … I had another consignment sale all lined up … with my cousin ...” She took another swallow of the coffee. “Any more coffee? It tastes good.”
“Ah … so this is really about YOU! Not Mike and Roy. YOUR sale is being … What? Delayed?”
“No, all the furniture was ready to ship. In fact, THE CHILD was polishing it when I got there.”
“So what is your problem?”
“He just doesn't take it seriously, Refo. It's a really matchless opportunity for Mike to get known in the biggest custom furniture market in the world. And it's like he couldn't care less.”
“This is Roy were talking about? Because Mike had all the stuff ready, you said.”
“No, Mike, idiot. Mike acts like it's all fun and games, when he isn't diddling THE CHILD.”
“It is all fun and games. He LIKES making furniture. If it weren't all fun and games, he WOULDN'T DO IT, Sarah.”
“I wonder how a little apple jack would go in this coffee.” She sipped thoughtfully. “Did you know the kid is doing a term paper on Mike's business. Of course, I had to help him. In fact, it's practically MY paper.”
“I thought he was pre-law. Why is he doing a paper on furniture?”
“He decided being a lawyer would take too long. He switched his major to business. And says he's bored with college. Just wants to get it over with ...”
“He's not going to quit, is he?” Now she had me worried.
“No, he's accelerated his schedule. Taking extra courses. Plans to finish in three years. So he can be with Mike, no doubt. And further fuck things up.”
“Well … I don't get it. How is he fucking things up?”
“He's giving Mike advice on material cost, time value, and sales prices, stuff like that. Fuckin' with his head AND with his … you know.”
“It all sounds reasonable to me.”
“But it's trimming the retail margin, at the risk of reduced sales.”
“Oh … now I get it. Roy is fattening Mike's margin and cutting your cousin's.”
“He's not really my cousin. He almost married my cousin and his grandfather was from the same village in Hungary as my grandmother's first husband. So it's like he's a cousin. Sort of ... You have to be from Brooklyn. It all makes sense there.”
“Leave them alone, Sarah. Don't mess. Don't wreck anything. It's the first time Mike's been happy in over a year.”
“I can't leave them alone.” Her eyes flashed. “My cousin wants to deal directly with THE CHILD! They LIKE each other. If I leave them alone, there won't be anything for ME to do.”
“You could try biochemistry. You had a fairly brilliant future in that, once upon a time. You could try practicing medicine. You have a perfectly good MD degree.”
“I'm a pediatrician, Refo. If I see one more runny-nosed two-year-old, I'll scream. And the old lab is such a long drive from here ...” There was no apple jack, so she put a splash of brandy into her coffee. “Do you know what I said to my last patient's mother? I could have lost my license if she reported me.” She took a swig from the bottle and blew her breath in and out for a bit. “You know Mike's furniture is almost as perfect as THE CHILD's ass? You don't want hand made furniture being perfect, it looks factory-made. But asses? You want those perfect ... Early in the relationship, anyway … Like with Carter and Lucien … They were like marble bookends … Did you ever get to fuck Lucien?”
She was referring to an ex-fling of mine and his boyfriend. I had a very nice time with Carter for a while, but Lucien was an unrealized dream.
“No?” She took another swig. “His ass was perfect. You know he said he loved me? He did. Pissed off Carter, telling me that. Carter never loved me.”
“Ok, Sarah.” She was still affected by the abortion of her child. She had refused to find out whether it would have been Carter's or Lucien's. “No going all morose on me. Let's go see if the apple trees are budding.” She followed me out the door.
I had planted the apple trees during the early summer the previous year. There was no way they would bear a serious crop this year, but I hoped for at least a few apples to try out the antique apple press I had got for Frank.
“He loves that boy, Refo.” Sarah continued as we walked. “I think Mike loves that boy better than he did Butch. And Roy … Roy's so fuckin' perfect I could throw up.”
“Cheer up, Sarah. He's going back to school tomorrow. Spring break is over.”
“Mike won't work as hard without him around. He's a dynamo when the kid's around. I have no clue how he can produce so much furniture when the two of them spend all their time fucking.”
“Obviously, they don't spend ALL their time in bed.”
“I don't know why not. I would … if I were Mike … or Roy.”
The late afternoon sun burst out from behind some fast moving clouds making both of us squint. The sudden brightness may have been responsible for the tears Sarah brushed away. Or not. She wasn't actually the unfeeling ogre she always pretended to be.
“Buds. We're maybe a week away from apple blossoms.”
“I like it here, Refo. I don't want to go back to Washington.” Sarah was deadly earnest.
“I like you, Sarah. Frank likes you. You can stay forever if you want. But we gotta get you a love interest.”
She laughed at the prospect. “Somebody has to be an old maid, Refo. What would the world be like without old maids?”
Craiger
JUB Addict
Even though it's apple time, Sarah's making it sound like sour grapes..... I'm afraid Sarah would be too much for me to handle, however, Refo has had such a long past with her and seems to give her every benefit of the doubt. Nice to know that those unhappy souls have friends that care.
Craiger
Craiger
A very interesting read, Rory. Sarah, poor Sarah. Horny, greedy, hurting all wrapped up in one.
Mike and Roy - yeah, pretty damned perfect. Do you have video of them - dressed or undressed, doesn't much matter -
Mike and Roy - yeah, pretty damned perfect. Do you have video of them - dressed or undressed, doesn't much matter -
EasyRory
JUB Addict
Chapter Twenty-Five - Victoria
“HA!”
That's the NOISE my roommate makes when she finds someone who agrees with one of her bizarre notions. She was sitting an inch from the screen and reading something with a lot of teeny tiny little print on the internet. “There's no such thing as a vaginal orgasm! I could have told them that. Ya gotta rub my dick to get me off.”
“Charleen, you don't have a dick.”
“Dick … clit … same thing, conceptually.”
It's comments like that that make me think she might be a L … Leh … Lez … I can't even THINK the word let alone SAY it! The comments, the crotch grabbing … and I don't believe she OWNS a dress. And she's always talking about licking the most unappealing features of a girl's body. Still, she's always out with boys and, to hear her tell it, USING them with the same care and consideration you would lavish on a TOOTHPICK.
“Personally, I LIKE having something in me … It's comforting … and stimulating.” It's absolutely true. I do.
“Listen, Victor, that isn't what's getting you off. Trust me.” I hate it when she calls me Victor. She knows it.
“But it is. When Mike and Roy ...” Oops. I said too much.
“Mike AND Roy? Did I hear you conjoin a couple of dicks with an AND? Victor … you rascal, you. Tell ...” She practically FORCED me to tell her everything and then FIRED questions at me.
“Charleen, I don't know how big he was. Bigger than anybody else I've ever seen, that's all I'm prepared to say. Yes, it felt good. It felt awesome.”
“But as I picture it - as you described it, Victor, it was really the other guy, the top guy, Stiletto-dick, who was rocking your clit. He was the one getting you off, not the oaf with the baseball bat on the bottom.” She forced more details out of me and claimed they only confirmed her views.
Who knows? Maybe she's right. Sucking off Fairfax certainly didn't do anything for ME; and then fucking him - at that RED ROOF INN! I don't believe the sheets even HAD a thread-count; I believe they were plastic! My GOD! All I could think about was bedbugs. I don't even KNOW how big his dick is. He had the lights off the WHOLE TIME. All that furtive GROPING! 'Where are you?' is NOT what a girl wants to hear at the CRUCIAL moment! Which was a blessing I suppose. What was I thinking of? We took a little walk in between sessions … All I did was ADMIRE a bracelet in a shop window, just to make conversation? You know? He thought I wanted his MONEY! So it's just as well that ended. I didn't get even a tiny orgasm, let alone a BRACELET out of that weekend. And it was a nice bracelet. From Bulgari. Little leopards racing around your wrist … with stones … just small ones ... diamonds and emeralds.
And Willis … my last great hope. The SNAKE! I can hardly bear to think about … the humiliation! No, not the Halloween disaster - later when he took me to the Spring Dance at school. Just getting him to come to Charlottesville was mortification enough! First he said he 'thought' he had a date with some frump from Richmond.
“Is she going to wear that SAME PINK DRESS? Yet again? Didn't she spill wine on it the last time?” I asked. A simple question I thought. Alright, a simple SERIES of questions. He RESENTED the questions.
Then he complained his truck might not be UP TO the trip. That truck could haul lumber through the AMAZON, for God's sake. And when he did come, after spending the weekend before in RICHMOND, I told him I wasn't riding in a mud-spattered truck to a formal dance. We took my Volkswagen, which he claimed he couldn't DRIVE. I knew I should have rented a stretch. So then! It gets WORSE!
We end up at the SAME Red Roof Inn and nothing has changed except the age of my molester. The same lights-out atmosphere. The same furtive GROPING! The awful SHEETS! All I can say is Momma will never call Willis gay. He's the most inconsiderate fuck in six counties! Wham-bam … totally self-centered. I wasn't even CLOSE to anything when he SIGHS and says, “That was nice. I'm done.” But wait! It gets even WORSE.
He goes into the bathroom and even with the DOOR CLOSED it sounds like a horse letting loose. Then while Niagara Falls is draining, he SCREAMS! I swear I thought something important of his must have FALLEN OFF!
“Willis! Are you all right?” Who cares, right? But I had to pretend concern. I opened the door and he's standing there, wearing just his socks, holding his dick, and he screams again. “WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?”
“ME!!??” I challenged. His dick is randomly spurting. “Don't aim THAT THING at me!” I yelled back. In retrospect, I should say his dick was kind of nice … very red … still a little stiff from what we had been doing … bigger than Roy's, I believe. But the thing was SPURTING! Spurting what???
“AAAHH!!” he shouts again and grabs his dick. So disgusting.
You know, I've hear of dates ending up at the hospital, but I always thought those were just stories. Some exculpatory timbale concocted to cover up personal shortcomings of some sort. Those little incompatibilities that are difficult to explain? So as not to reflect badly on oneself? I'm getting annoyed all over again, just thinking about it.
He came out from the treatment room looking sheepish and abashed. Ok, I figured. I'll let him apologize. He stayed silent for a time and then said, “The nurse wants to see you.”
“WHAT nurse?” I demanded. He just pointed to the door he had come from.
“GONORRHEA!!!!”
The nurse looked at me as if my reaction was inappropriate or something. “It happens,” she said. “He didn't get it from you, it doesn't show up that quickly; but he may have transmitted it to you. I can give you antibiotics now if you wish. Or you will need to see your own physician, but I'll need proof that you did. For the public health reports ...”
“The PINK DRESS!” I exclaimed. “I could have told him she was trash!”
“We don't characterize our patients,” said the woman in nasty too-tight white stretch pants. “Would you like the shot now?”
The shot was bearable; things got worse when the social worker came in. “Aren't you supposed to be female?” I asked him.
“Who says I'm not?” was his smirky answer. I swear he was treating me as if I were the SLUT. He took down information that seemed unnecessarily PERSONAL and then announced he was required to instruct me in prevention techniques.
“Do you now about condoms? How to use them?”
“Yes,” I answered. Who doesn't went unspoken.
“It's important that you insist your hookup, er, partner uses one. Do you know how they work? You need to know how to put one on a man if he doesn't do it himself.” I expected him to take some sexless approximation of a penis from the desk to show me. Instead he stood up and made a move that looked like he was about to unbuckle his trousers.
“I know how they work,” I said and left in a hurry. As I look back, he may have been about to pull down a wall chart. Or he may have been about to expose himself. It was six of one … Medical people are SO unpredictable.
And then Willis … I had no idea how caddish men can be. He said, “Did you get the shot? With all those antibodies coursing around in you, we could go again … it would be completely safe, the nurse said.”
I drove the VW back to my dorm. “I don't how the FUCK Willis is getting home!” I told Charleen. “Did I just say FUCK, Charleen? You bet your FAT ASS I did!”
“Really, Vic?” she said, looking over her shoulder at the mirror. “You think my ass is fat?”
“HA!”
That's the NOISE my roommate makes when she finds someone who agrees with one of her bizarre notions. She was sitting an inch from the screen and reading something with a lot of teeny tiny little print on the internet. “There's no such thing as a vaginal orgasm! I could have told them that. Ya gotta rub my dick to get me off.”
“Charleen, you don't have a dick.”
“Dick … clit … same thing, conceptually.”
It's comments like that that make me think she might be a L … Leh … Lez … I can't even THINK the word let alone SAY it! The comments, the crotch grabbing … and I don't believe she OWNS a dress. And she's always talking about licking the most unappealing features of a girl's body. Still, she's always out with boys and, to hear her tell it, USING them with the same care and consideration you would lavish on a TOOTHPICK.
“Personally, I LIKE having something in me … It's comforting … and stimulating.” It's absolutely true. I do.
“Listen, Victor, that isn't what's getting you off. Trust me.” I hate it when she calls me Victor. She knows it.
“But it is. When Mike and Roy ...” Oops. I said too much.
“Mike AND Roy? Did I hear you conjoin a couple of dicks with an AND? Victor … you rascal, you. Tell ...” She practically FORCED me to tell her everything and then FIRED questions at me.
“Charleen, I don't know how big he was. Bigger than anybody else I've ever seen, that's all I'm prepared to say. Yes, it felt good. It felt awesome.”
“But as I picture it - as you described it, Victor, it was really the other guy, the top guy, Stiletto-dick, who was rocking your clit. He was the one getting you off, not the oaf with the baseball bat on the bottom.” She forced more details out of me and claimed they only confirmed her views.
Who knows? Maybe she's right. Sucking off Fairfax certainly didn't do anything for ME; and then fucking him - at that RED ROOF INN! I don't believe the sheets even HAD a thread-count; I believe they were plastic! My GOD! All I could think about was bedbugs. I don't even KNOW how big his dick is. He had the lights off the WHOLE TIME. All that furtive GROPING! 'Where are you?' is NOT what a girl wants to hear at the CRUCIAL moment! Which was a blessing I suppose. What was I thinking of? We took a little walk in between sessions … All I did was ADMIRE a bracelet in a shop window, just to make conversation? You know? He thought I wanted his MONEY! So it's just as well that ended. I didn't get even a tiny orgasm, let alone a BRACELET out of that weekend. And it was a nice bracelet. From Bulgari. Little leopards racing around your wrist … with stones … just small ones ... diamonds and emeralds.
And Willis … my last great hope. The SNAKE! I can hardly bear to think about … the humiliation! No, not the Halloween disaster - later when he took me to the Spring Dance at school. Just getting him to come to Charlottesville was mortification enough! First he said he 'thought' he had a date with some frump from Richmond.
“Is she going to wear that SAME PINK DRESS? Yet again? Didn't she spill wine on it the last time?” I asked. A simple question I thought. Alright, a simple SERIES of questions. He RESENTED the questions.
Then he complained his truck might not be UP TO the trip. That truck could haul lumber through the AMAZON, for God's sake. And when he did come, after spending the weekend before in RICHMOND, I told him I wasn't riding in a mud-spattered truck to a formal dance. We took my Volkswagen, which he claimed he couldn't DRIVE. I knew I should have rented a stretch. So then! It gets WORSE!
We end up at the SAME Red Roof Inn and nothing has changed except the age of my molester. The same lights-out atmosphere. The same furtive GROPING! The awful SHEETS! All I can say is Momma will never call Willis gay. He's the most inconsiderate fuck in six counties! Wham-bam … totally self-centered. I wasn't even CLOSE to anything when he SIGHS and says, “That was nice. I'm done.” But wait! It gets even WORSE.
He goes into the bathroom and even with the DOOR CLOSED it sounds like a horse letting loose. Then while Niagara Falls is draining, he SCREAMS! I swear I thought something important of his must have FALLEN OFF!
“Willis! Are you all right?” Who cares, right? But I had to pretend concern. I opened the door and he's standing there, wearing just his socks, holding his dick, and he screams again. “WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?”
“ME!!??” I challenged. His dick is randomly spurting. “Don't aim THAT THING at me!” I yelled back. In retrospect, I should say his dick was kind of nice … very red … still a little stiff from what we had been doing … bigger than Roy's, I believe. But the thing was SPURTING! Spurting what???
“AAAHH!!” he shouts again and grabs his dick. So disgusting.
You know, I've hear of dates ending up at the hospital, but I always thought those were just stories. Some exculpatory timbale concocted to cover up personal shortcomings of some sort. Those little incompatibilities that are difficult to explain? So as not to reflect badly on oneself? I'm getting annoyed all over again, just thinking about it.
He came out from the treatment room looking sheepish and abashed. Ok, I figured. I'll let him apologize. He stayed silent for a time and then said, “The nurse wants to see you.”
“WHAT nurse?” I demanded. He just pointed to the door he had come from.
“GONORRHEA!!!!”
The nurse looked at me as if my reaction was inappropriate or something. “It happens,” she said. “He didn't get it from you, it doesn't show up that quickly; but he may have transmitted it to you. I can give you antibiotics now if you wish. Or you will need to see your own physician, but I'll need proof that you did. For the public health reports ...”
“The PINK DRESS!” I exclaimed. “I could have told him she was trash!”
“We don't characterize our patients,” said the woman in nasty too-tight white stretch pants. “Would you like the shot now?”
The shot was bearable; things got worse when the social worker came in. “Aren't you supposed to be female?” I asked him.
“Who says I'm not?” was his smirky answer. I swear he was treating me as if I were the SLUT. He took down information that seemed unnecessarily PERSONAL and then announced he was required to instruct me in prevention techniques.
“Do you now about condoms? How to use them?”
“Yes,” I answered. Who doesn't went unspoken.
“It's important that you insist your hookup, er, partner uses one. Do you know how they work? You need to know how to put one on a man if he doesn't do it himself.” I expected him to take some sexless approximation of a penis from the desk to show me. Instead he stood up and made a move that looked like he was about to unbuckle his trousers.
“I know how they work,” I said and left in a hurry. As I look back, he may have been about to pull down a wall chart. Or he may have been about to expose himself. It was six of one … Medical people are SO unpredictable.
And then Willis … I had no idea how caddish men can be. He said, “Did you get the shot? With all those antibodies coursing around in you, we could go again … it would be completely safe, the nurse said.”
I drove the VW back to my dorm. “I don't how the FUCK Willis is getting home!” I told Charleen. “Did I just say FUCK, Charleen? You bet your FAT ASS I did!”
“Really, Vic?” she said, looking over her shoulder at the mirror. “You think my ass is fat?”
Rory,
You had LOTS of fun with Victor - Victoria - or should I say VicTwatria?
Poor baby - getting wham, bam, thank you ma'am'd by Fairfax and Willis - and Willis with that little something "extra" to give - nothing says trash quite like "The Clap".
I about laughed my balls off when I read this - and I was still at work - thankfully most people were already gone for the day.
You had LOTS of fun with Victor - Victoria - or should I say VicTwatria?
Poor baby - getting wham, bam, thank you ma'am'd by Fairfax and Willis - and Willis with that little something "extra" to give - nothing says trash quite like "The Clap".
I about laughed my balls off when I read this - and I was still at work - thankfully most people were already gone for the day.
Craiger
JUB Addict
Oh my! Lucky for "Victor" it wasn't the other way around. Her spreading the little buggers. And she was worried about bed bugs...... Also, Will has gone through the "right of passage" with something more to brag about at school. Oh to be a teenager again....NOT!!!
Craiger
Also, Will has gone through the "right of passage" with something more to brag about at school. Oh to be a teenager again....NOT!!!Craiger
EasyRory
JUB Addict
Is getting 'the clap' really a rite of passage? Is it that common? [I got it. 
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I thought I'd contracted "it", during my sophomore year in college. However, the tests turned out negative. What I'd encountered was a simple yeast infection. The doctor told me to cut down on fapping off so much. 
He did give me some pills that turned my pee a bright orange/red. Thought it would be funny to pop one into a friend's coke bottle, while he was off taking a leak. Every one else thought it was going to be funny, too. By the time he got back, all the brown coloring had settled to the bottom of the bottle.
](/images/smilies/bang.gif "Brick wall ](*,)")
He did give me some pills that turned my pee a bright orange/red. Thought it would be funny to pop one into a friend's coke bottle, while he was off taking a leak. Every one else thought it was going to be funny, too. By the time he got back, all the brown coloring had settled to the bottom of the bottle.
Rory,
I don't know if it's a rite of passage or not - I was fairly monogamous from day one and have never had to worry about such vermin.
I don't know if it's a rite of passage or not - I was fairly monogamous from day one and have never had to worry about such vermin.
Craiger
JUB Addict
I had the misfortune of meeting a delightful young fellow from Paris while traveling through Florence. I suffered through Rome, Monaco, Paris and finally London. Thank goodness for the British health plan...and a very handsome young doctor who warned me, "You have to be very careful of those ladies of the night".... Little did he know.
Craiger
Craiger