Every so many years I ramble through those parts again in the summer, and see him there, in my mind, on the edge of the road, with his thumb out and a smile on his face, looking for a ride home. He was the only hitchhiker I've ever picked up. I couldn't resist.
It was August. I was lost. And there he was. 12, trim, a bit ragged around the edges. His long, unkempt hair covered his eyes in a very sexy way. He really seemed to fit in quite naturally with the tall, weedy grass behind him.
I stopped and looked over. “Are you as lost as I am?”
He peeled off his t shirt and wiped the sweat off his face. His muscularity made my heart race. “No. You lost?”
“Well, I don't live that far. If you take me home I can tell you how to get to the main road.”
“I'm Jason.” He reached over and shook my hand.
I smiled back. “I'm Rob.”
“Cool, man. Let's go.”
He climbed in. No seat belts. No air conditioning. Just an am radio that wasn't picking up anything at the moment and the open air. He didn't mind.
“Hey. I got ice cream and soda. Want to make root beer floats?”
It sounded like the perfect thing to replenish the life that this Alabama heat was sucking out of me. “Oh man, I haven't made one of those since I was about your age.”
“Then it's time you made another one.”
We were both grinning like maniacs. Electricity filled the air between us. We both felt it. Looking back, it's difficult to recall any other time when I felt quite so alive.
He directed me this way and that, and when we came to his long, gravel driveway a very happy chocolate lab greeted us with a romp and a bark. “That's Kirby.”
Kirby chased us to the house and Jason pointed, telling me to go around back where I could park in the shade. And there we sat, catching our breath. “Let's go inside.” He beamed and opened the car door.
Kirby sniffed and licked my hand.
Then Jason volunteered, “He'll lick food off your dick if you let him.”
I didn't quite know what to say to that, though I'd certainly done it a few times myself as a kid. I let it go with a laugh. “Your folks home?”
I didn't know whether or not I should ask where they were, and he didn't want to elaborate.
I let him do his thing.
In the kitchen he was the perfect host. “Have a seat.”
I plopped myself down and pulled the string on the big ceiling fan. It whirled and squeaked and we both turned our heads upward to feel the breeze on our faces.
“You can take your shoes off if you want.” He opened the fridge and freezer and brought everything to the table. “Want me to make yours for you?”
“Go for it.”
“Alright!” While he placed huge glass beer mugs in front of us. I watched droplets of sweat wind their way down his dirty but beautiful torso. He had a most delightful hybrid bellybutton, the outie inside an innie.
“Oh.” He pulled open a drawer. “I know a real good way to help cool down.” He turned on the tap and soaked a pair of hand towels with cool water. “Here.” He handed one to me, draping the other around his neck. “Take your shirt off and wear it like this.” Naturally I obliged. How could I not?
The root beer was ice cold and no root beer float had ever tasted this good. Kirby whined and Jason scooped some ice cream into a bowl for him.
He moved his chair closer and sat right beside me. “You're strong, huh.”
almost laughed. I wasn't particularly in good shape but I did have a
little bicep I could show off. When I flexed my right arm he reached
over. I leaned in so he could feel it. He squeezed it a couple of
times. “That's cool, man.”
“Thanks but I'd give anything to have stomach muscles like you have.”
“I get that a lot.” He stood up. “Here. Put your hand on 'em.” He flexed and pulled my hand onto his belly. This was magic. I kept my cool but head and cock were both raging with thoughts of getting naked with him and having passionate, frenzied sex. I left my hand on his warm skin and waited for him to pull away. But he didn't. He ate, flexed, smiled, and seemed gloriously at peace. I looked down and his shorts were bulging quite a bit. Hmmm....
“That's amazing. I'm jealous.” I rubbed up and down a bit. He still didn't move. Finally I stopped and went back to eating my float. He was making me too horny. I was twenty, and still pretty easily aroused. I could feel the pre-cum wetting my underwear.
When we finished I was ready to move on. But then he said, “Come on, I wanna show you something.” He picked up a half empty jar of peanut butter and had me follow him to the front porch where Kirby was now laying next the porch swing. “Here, Kirby.” He opened the jar and Kirby wagged his tale. Sitting on the swing Jason held out a slab of the butter and Kirby went to town licking it off Jason's finger. Jason chuckled. “He'll do that for like an hour.”
“They do love peanut butter, don't they.” I sat next to him, almost afraid of what was going to happen next.
“Watch him lick it off my dick.” I was shocked but turned on beyond belief. He opened his fly and out popped this big, fat dick head. He rubbed butter on the glans and around the shaft and thrust his hips toward Kirby. Once the dog started licking his cock grew hard as a rock and was bigger than what I expected. Sure, his voice was cracking, he was definitely into puberty, but....well, I had no idea. He unbuttoned the top of his shorts to air out a hand sized thicket of pubes. “Ohhhhhh, yeah.” He moaned.
I couldn't speak. I was rock hard myself. My eyes were glued to his beautiful, throbbing dick, wishing it was my tongue slobbering all over it.
head fell back He closed his eyes and he gasped for air as his
manhood started pulsating. A big load of ropey, creamy sperm erupted.
Three lashes whipped over Kirby's head, then a few more globs oozed
and clung to his skin before dangling and then falling to the wooden
slats under our feet. He let out a huge sigh, the sigh we all give.
“Fuck. That feels so fucking good.”
I couldn't stop staring at this magnificent penis, and this incredible, wild....well what? Bohemian? A free spirit, to be sure!
“You want to try it?”
I know my face was red. I was afraid to accept his offer, but he seemed insistent. “I'll put it on you.” I still didn't speak. I thought 'well ok.' I didn't say it out loud but my body language was clearly saying what my mouth couldn't.
“It's cool, man.” He unbuckled my belt, unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans and pulled down my underwear enough for my rocket to stand straight up. “You're dick's awesome.” He stuck his hand inside the jar and pulled out a big handful of creamy Jif. My dick pulsed with my heart beat and precum was streaming out of me. “You're horny, huh.”
“Guess so.” I rasped.
He wrapped his hand around my member and squeezed. He traced his thumb over the head and spread the peanut butter, over the tip and into the groove under the back of the head. It took all of five seconds and I shot my load.
“Man. You didn't even give Kirby a chance.”
“Sorry. You got me all worked up, Jason.”
“Huh. Well that's ok. You can go again.” He called the dog. “Here, Kirby.” He held it, squeezed it, directed it. I closed my eyes and in my mind it was Jason licking my cock. This time I think it took about thirty seconds.
“Thanks, Jason. I swear I think you're the most awesome kid I ever met.”
“Cool. Thanks.” He sat there playing with his dick, and since he didn't put his away I let mine enjoy the air as well. It was obvious he was perfectly comfortable with all of this. His dick was hard again and frankly the whole episode appeared to be a way of asking me, begging me, even if subconsciously, to suck his cock.
I figured it had to be ok to broach the subject. “Jason, have you ever had a real blowjob? I mean by a person?”
“No. It'd be nice, though.” He looked up at me and leaned into my body. “Why? You offering?” He gave me a mysterious, searching look, and stared so deeply into my eyes that literally for a moment nothing else existed in my mind, nothing outside of this magic, once in a lifetime connection, like some rare celestial alignment. I kissed his forehead and he melted and hugged me.
“Yes. I mean, if you'd like that, then sure. You bet.”
He smiled uncontrollably and, looking into my eyes again. He whispered, “Wow.”
“Can we clean up first, though?”
He nodded and we went inside. We waded through the debris on the floor, clothes, books, toys, odd household items, coat hangers and a broom on the stairs, empty food containers. Chaos. Dirt. Decay. But the bath tub was clean enough and there was hot water. For the moment that was all that mattered.
We were naked and took turns washing each other. A breeze came through the open window, carrying the chatty songs of birds softly to our ears. I was on the look out for any sign of discontentment, but it simply wasn't there. In fact, quite the contrary. He gave me the distinct impression he was finding his element.
To the guest room. There were magazines stacked on the floor against the far wall but otherwise it was one of the least cluttered spaces in the entire house. Again, our eyes locked and he sat on the edge of the bed.
I pointed. “Go ahead and lie down, Jason.”
He did. :)
I touched, massaged and kissed most of his body, and when I kissed his cheek he kissed me, on the cheek and on the lips. My mouth made it's way down his abdomen, and everything in both of us was silently screaming YES! I gave him the gift and he came down my throat. Twice, if memory serves. He jacked me off, no peanut butter this time, just his two eager hands. He admired my cock, commented on the shape, the veins, how it felt to hold it. He talked a blue streak and asked all kinds of questions, but strangely enough, not about me so much, just about life. He glowed.
My heart was absolutely exploding. I'd fallen in love, madly, but I didn't dare say it. It's quite possible he was feeling the same thing. Surely anyone who'd seen us would say so.
We went back downstairs and made meatloaf sandwiches, and when I suggested turning on the tv he had no interest in it. All he wanted to do was sit next to me on the porch swing. We rocked it gently and watched the sky change colors as the sun went down.
He leaned against me and seemed half asleep suddenly. I wondered about his living situation, who was looking out for him. But he seemed ok, and quite happy. There was fresh food in the kitchen. Someone had to be coming through. It wasn't my business, nor my place to try and bring him with me. I would have enjoyed that, but would he have? He was too independent and I sensed he was probably not the kind of person who wanted to stay in one place too long. There was something odd about him, something new to me. I couldn't quite put my finger on it. He was here and not here, like a ghost but clearly real.
As it happens, in my subsequent travels to foreign lands I found other boys who were much the same. They were street boys, many who'd left their homes because of parents who hit them too hard and too often. They didn't want rules of any kind. Enough of being told what to do! As the wind blew so they went. I guess it's a kind of vacancy that I saw in Jason but didn't quite understand, part of a distancing, from people, places, attachments......from life. Such was this lovely person, this angel who wanted love but might very well run from it before allowing any chance that someone might break his fragile heart. A wild thing that could whither in captivity.
After we enjoyed the quiet of the darkness for a time he stretched and stepped out to the edge of The porch. He pulled out his dick and pissed on the grass. “You're coming back, right?”
“I'd love that.”
“When?” He looked out, blankly.
“I'm not sure when I can, but maybe a couple of weeks. I don't suppose you have a phone here.”
It was sad. I think we both knew, regardless of intentions, we'd never see each other again. Still, I gave him the chance. “Do you have a wallet?”
“Yeah. Nothing in it, though.”
“I'll write my phone number down on a piece of paper and you keep it and try to call me some time.”
“Really?” He turned his head.
“Yeah. Of course.”
He went and found it. I turned on some lights finally and hunted down a pen and a notebook. I scribbled, tore off the number and handed it to him. He folded it into the billfold and then shook my hand again. “Thank you, sir.”
“No. Thank YOU, Jason.” I hugged him and though he hugged me back I sensed his worry and withdrawal. I explained how the number was long distance and that he'd have to dial the operator and place a collect call. “I'll pay for it. Don't worry.”
I kissed the top of his head and he laughed. “You forgot to ask directions to the main road.”
He told me, as well as he could, in a meandering, self correcting kind of way. “No, wait.” He said. “It's this way, toward the gas station.” He turned himself around several times but his final version proved accurate. And in a way that was sad. No excuse to turn around and go back. I wanted to.
I never caught a phone call from him and had no way of knowing if he'd even tried. I went back five or six times that first year. There was no sign of him, nor of Kirby. After that I went less and less often.
And now I have no reason to go back. There's only a broken foundation where the house used to be.