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Grommet
Part 6 - Making It Through The Holiday Season
By
PJ Franklin <pjfranklinboy2@earthlink.net>

 

Story Summary: Randy Hollis struggles a little through the bittersweet holiday season

My favorite holidays of every year were upon us, Halloween, Christmas and Thanksgiving. I had loved them all and in that order, Halloween just a smidge ahead of Christmas. This year would be different, however, Shaun’s absence casting a sad shadow. Shaun and I used to go trick or treating door-to-door collecting candy together including just the prior year.

“So, trick or treat this year?” Greg asked me with a grin about a week ahead of time. Greg’s grin faded when he saw my lack of enthusiasm. He knew why of course.

“Hey, I have an idea,” and Greg got my mind off missing Shaun by keeping me busy filling up any free time between school and surfing team making a costume for an anticipated school dance and Halloween party. The result was spectacular.

Greg helped me to build a grombie, a grom plus a zombie, a grombie, get it? He gelled up my hair up into a red-dyed bloody spiked doo to represent a bloodied Wedge wave and then spanned my skull with a tiny split mini-surfboard to both sides of my head using a thin wire bridge over the top of my noggin.

I then had to put on an old wet suit that he cut out massive holes looking like ragged shark bites. There was painted blood color all over the place. I looked like a totally mangled surfer zombie-grombie. It was totally rad!

The night of the dance and party everyone raved over the costume. Amanda especially squealed in delight and loved my costume. She was dressed up in a dead mermaid thing, sort of like my theme.

Finn came as the a diver from hell with a spear and a severed plastic limb on the end of it using some of his dad’s old scuba gear and then I saw Jonathan Teel. He came dressed as an oversized football player sort of like the incredible Hulk. He had dyed his hair and face green, arms too. It was cool, but I did my best to avoid him.

Later on in the evening as I was thinking about going home and was standing by myself in an empty hallway outside of the Halloween decorated cafeteria, suddenly an arm pulled me to the wall and pressed me firmly there. It was Jonathan Teel,

“About what happened at Wild Rivers, I … that is …” and then we both heard voices approaching and he bolted off toward the main cafeteria entrance just as a couple of football jocks intercepted him and he was gone again. Shit!

What was his damage anyway? First there was that weird kiss and then we fight and get into trouble over Mr. Martz’s assignment. What was he going to tell me? It was driving me nuts, but I was not about to track him down to find out. I just wanted him to stop it so that I could move on. Was that too much to ask?

* * * * * * * * * *

“So, do you love him?” mama Nadine asked me as we sat together in the diner. I slurped down another long pull of one of mama’s incredibly good strawberry milkshakes and shook my head, “No, I don’t love him. Rory is a good guy and we have fun in the surf together. I think he has a crush on me maybe, but that’s all.” I always told mama everything going on in my life. No matter how insignificant my life seemed to me, she insisted that I keep her up-to-date.

The fact was that I never felt anything but a close friendship with Rory and could not return any feelings that he might have for me save maybe some lust. I think he knew that too.  Nonetheless, for the next few weeks after Halloween and into early November when there was time here and there, I had Rory out at my Northside break teaching him rudimentary bodysurfing and boogie boarding.

Rory turned out to be a very good student, but with limited physical endurance. I didn’t want learning boards to be a chore for him or like with me, a have-to because of the demands up at my level. I wanted it to be fun for both of us and if there was some fun sexual tension between us, so be it.

One early evening down at the break we happened upon the dreaded grommet pole where I had been hazed the prior summer. I told him all about it, in detail. Rory grinned,

“Wish I had seen it. Wish I … wish I was good enough to be respected that way,” and I realized he was right. As much as the pole represented the pain and humiliation of hazing, it was also a valued grom rite of passage, a show of respect honoring an accomplishment as well.

We were just in from the surf, both of us still in wet suits and flip-flops,

“Come on, come here,” I said and led Rory to the pole’s cement base. There was a length of ankle leash cord lying at its base. I used it and he let me tie him to the pole, “What are you going to do to me?” his eyes wide and his mouth smiling big.

“Let’s peel down your wet suit,” I said and helped him until the top part dangled down past his waste baring the board shorts underneath. Then I looked around us, nobody so I pantsed Rory of his shorts to his naked ass.

“I am going to initiate you at the famous grom pole, Rory, hold the pole and don’t let go grom!” and he did. Then I took off a flip-flop from my foot and then paddled his naked ass with the sole of the flip-flop,

“Take it grom, you’re being hazed because you’re a dirty little grom and will always be a dirty little grom,” and I paddled him harder yet.

He took the hazing and his little cock got hard, “Oh, oh, the grom is a bad boy,” he half-smiled, half-winced though the sting. I looked around, nobody about; but I untied him anyway,

“Cover up. Say, you want to come over my place? Finish this there? I know what to do with bad little groms,” and he grinned, “Yes, please!” he said.

We ended up at Gar’s, Greg was still working, Gar off on another whirlwind tour of wherever that was so that we were alone. Rory confessed to me that he had never had paddle licks from a P.E. or sports coach like a bad boy jock might.

As luck would have it, there was a spanking paddle sticking out the top of a box of junk in the garage. I thought that it was left over from some kind of fundraiser that Greg and Gar had invented for mama Nadine’s lost boys project fund during one of the many summer beachfront festivals.

I plucked the paddle and headed for the front room, “Prepare to be punished jock boy!” I said. We were both naked and boned up. Rory bent over and grabbed his ankles,

“Ready for punishment Coach Hollis,” he said making my cock very happy. I slid the smooth, cool wooden paddle surface across his hot naked ass, “Thank me for each one, Lind.”

I gave him a hard lick. He hissed, “Thank you Coach Hollis, may I please have another?” frat style.

I did this ten times to Rory and he manfully took them all followed by the correct response. At the end I pushed him to his knees and he sucked my cock hard and then I took him into my bedroom and we fucked for a good hour.

“Thanks Rory. I had fun today, I always do with you,” Rory said as I dropped him off at his aunt’s house. He leaned over and kissed my cheek, “See you at school,” and he left the car.

That was in mid-November of that year and although we would remain casual friends and I would see and say hello to Rory Lind now and again at school or even at the beach happily using his meager skills with a boogie board, we would never bed down again. I was proud of my grom, however, very proud. Rory had managed to re-create himself using abilities that guys like me, Finn and the rest of the surf team could only dream of.

Turns out that among his many talents, Rory Lind was a very talented graphic design artist. He started to design custom made T-shirts for our high school sports teams and for the beach crowds in general.

Rory came into Sparky’s shop one day the following spring and gave me a shirt that he had especially designed for me. “Grom Forever” was the theme and featured large colorful stylized pictures of me and Gar on surfboards on the same wave, one right and one left against a beautiful setting sun. In the corner was a tiny picture of Rory, and in tiny lettering: “Rory Lind, Randy Hollis’ grom for life.”

I would never wear the shirt. I would instead fold it up, put it in protective plastic and cherish it always.

* * * * * * * * * *

Just a week before the Thanksgiving holidays, Finn and I made our way to a Saturday night party at Adam Kazwell’s. Being a high school senior, Kaz was given a lot of leeway by his parents. They were wealthy and were seldom about. This Thanksgiving his parents were in New Zealand visiting some of his dad’s business associates leaving Kaz on his own.

The party was as usual, raucous. Cigarettes, booze and weed were available and used by Finn and me as well. Absent of special circumstances, we were both well aware of Finn’s parents’ attitude about all three so as usual it boiled down to don’t ask, don’t tell; but If you got caught, there might be hell to pay.

I had known Finn Ridger now for a couple months and he knew me. We were not boyfriends, nor really lovers. We were friends and fuck buddies at best, free to mess around when opportunity presented itself. During most of the parties I’d been to with Finn in the past few months he had been an eager, but polite sex partner. This night, however, just seemed different.

I was stoned and super horny. Finn was both as well. There were a couple girls at the party that I did not know and keeping the straight boys busy. I was on the couch, Finn next to me. I wanted him so bad that it hurt.

I finally just straddled myself on Finn’s knees, “Let’s fuck, just you and me, nobody else,” and he smiled (and slurred a little) through his weed induced haze, “Yea grom, just you and me.”

Well we did it all. We went into my bedroom leaving the door opened because it didn’t matter who saw us from the crowd there that night. We stripped and I sucked Finn and he sucked me. We ate each other out in a 69. We sucked in a 69. We sucked face and jacked on each other. That night he fucked me doggy style, twice.

“I want to sleep with you, let’s sack out,” I said, “Naw, let’s go back to my place,” Finn said, “But were still stoned and stuff,” I replied, “I can drive just fine, so just shut up and let’s get going,” Finn insisted.

“You still should not drive us. Let’s just stay here!” I said feeling that I was right and all I got was a big glare, “Fine,” I gave in but was not entirely comfortable the whole trip. We made it safely to Finn’s place anyway.

Mike and Mickey Ridger should both have been asleep, but for some reason Mike was still up. When we kind of stumbled in through the front door Mike was right there to check us out. At first he said nothing. We stood there dumbly. Mike came over and gave the air a sniff,

“Have you boys been smoking and drinking tonight?” he asked. We were busted, “Yes dad,” Finn confessed without hesitation, “Me too,” I confessed. “What else?” he asked and Finn added, “Weed,” and I said, “Weed.”

“Sorry dad,” Finn said, “Yea, sorry” I repeated.

Mike stood there a moment, arms folded and I was sure contemplating at least Finn’s punishment, maybe mine too.

“Finn, you know what I think of you guys drinking booze, much less pot and tobacco. Actually, I get it, I do; but to then drive your Rover while you’re still even a little drug and alcohol affected? That’s dangerous and you had Randy with you. What if something had happened? Don’t you remember what happened to Randy’s big brother?”

Oh boy that hit hard, really hard. Finn’s face fell and mine a little with him. Mike was right of course. Ry must have been awake or was awakened by our commotion. He came out into the hallway, “What’s going on? Where you guys been?” he asked and then sniffed the air. He knew.

Mike but glanced at Ry. I was sure the hammer was now going to fall, “What have you got to say for yourself Finn?” Mike then asked his eldest.

Finn sighed, “I fucked up bad. I’ve got no excuse dad, I’ll take what ever punishment you say,” and then I looked at Mike, so did Ry.

Mike blinked, “You know what Finn? You’re old enough to make your own mistakes. I’m going to let you off. No punishment this time Finn, at least no physical punishment. Do you like Randy?”

Finn looked up surprised by his father’s decision as I was and judging from his wide eye surprise, Ry as well, “Of course I like him,” Finn replied, “I love Randy, just like I love Ry and you,” Finn added.

“Good. Then treat him better Finn, he deserves it. I’m going to bed, you too Ry,” Mike said, “Yes dad,” Ry replied and gave us both the stink eye before he disappeared.

Finn was very solemn as he led the way to his bedroom. I shut the door behind me. Finn sighed, “Dad was right. I should have listened to you, Randy. I should not have driven the Rover after all that booze and weed, I’m sorry,” Finn looked up at me, quite sincere.

I smiled, “I can’t believe your dad didn’t whip your ass.”

“He should have. It’s easier when you get a spanking or a whipping. It hurts but makes the guilt go away,” and then he went to his bed and stretched himself out on his tummy, “Is this what having to grow up feels like?” his mouth curled up at one end.

“Who wants to grow up? I want to stay a kid and surf all the time,” I said sitting down on the bed edge by Finn’s hot backside.

“Yea, me too. Easier to be a kid even if you get spanked sometimes,” Finn said and that gave me an idea, so I reached out and spanked Finn on his butt with my hand, hard, “Spanked like that?” I said.

Finn smiled, “Something like that. Hey, I was really rude to you earlier. If anyone deserves to spank me, it would be you,” Finn said and he looked serious. I decided to bluff just for fun, “I can’t spank your big ass with my hand, would have to be with a belt.”

“Get my big leather belt out of the closet, you know the one,” Finn said calling my bluff, “Are you serious?” I asked standing up as I walked to the closet.

“Yup,” Finn said and as I looked for the belt I saw Finn push down his shorts to his knees baring his hot surfer ass. I found the belt and walked over. We had messed around like this before, him and me with spanking games, mostly me getting spanked. This felt different.

“Get over the end of the bed,” I told him doubting he would comply, but he did! I smirked, “I’m going to enjoy this,” I said. Finn gave me a smaller smirk, “You do that,” he said and then I pulled the belt back and went at him.

I whipped Finn’s butt as hard as I could. I guess I was doing a pretty good job as he winced and grimaced, “Not so hard!” he blurted at one point. I stopped and rubbed my hand on his red ass, even adding a few hand spanks. He said nothing and let me have my way.

My dick was super hard as I was enjoying lording over Finn for once, “Just a little more,” I said. I went at him again with fast hard licks which made his face screw up again. I stopped, panting, “Whipping tail is hard work,” and then threw the belt to the side, “Get back up on the bed, tummy down,” I said seeing if he would go along and he did.

I stood by the bedside and stripped off naked. Finn did the same and just watched me as I crawled into bed and right on top of him, pressing my hard dick between his roasted cheeks. Finn winced, “Do you want to do to me what I think you want to do?”

I nodded, “Yup, I do,” and he did not try and stop me. Finn even hunted for and got the lube from his bedside table and handed it to me. I used a lot of it on my dick and his butthole. Finn even spread his legs, “Make it good, you won’t get to do this very often,” he said.

I just smiled, and then slowly but completely mounted Finn from behind, pushed right inside of him. Finn whined but a little and in the end, he got into it with me, “Yea, fuck me Randy, fuck me good!” he growled and I did, just pounded him to my heart’s desire.

Before I shot my load, I pulled out of him as he had from me numerous times before and then I did what he would do, I straddled myself over his chest and unloaded into his wide open mouth.

I cleaned the both of us up and got into bed with Finn. He cuddled me closely back into himself as we usually had done, “Thank you Randy, I feel better,” he said. I smiled, “Good.”

* * * * * * * * * *

The best thing I could say about Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays that fall and winter is that they happened. I drove home by myself for Thanksgiving. Usually mom would prepare and cook a turkey with her signature hazel nut stuffing. Dad, Shaun and I would watch football and such, maybe even toss one around in the back yard.

At the least this year we all three shared equally in mourning that Shaun would not be with us. Mom did not have the heart to cook, nor did dad and I to toss around the football, not at first.

What did happen is that we went to a fancy restaurant to eat. We had never done that and it seemed fresh and different. It was fun and lightened the emotional load for all of us. Later, dad and I did toss the football around, just he and I and I was glad for my relationship with my old man.

Christmas was another thing all together. I was terrified of what I would have to feel without Shaun there to share Christmas with me and especially so on Christmas Eve. Greg had to kind of drag me to Fresno, kicking and screaming so to speak and even then I still put up token resistance. He accompanied me and shared driving the Civic.

I did get to spend some time shopping for presents for mom and dad with Greg. It was like I was seeing him for the first time as more than a friend. Greg had indeed become very big brotherly to me and we had a blast Christmas shopping, yes even in dull old Fresno. Then I shopped with dad and he let me use his credit card to buy something special for Greg for a special time that quite frankly I was dreading.

Christmas Eve arrived and I grew sullen. For years, including Shaun’s last Christmas with me the year before, Shaun and I would pretend to go to sleep on Christmas Eve night and then get up just after midnight supposedly after Santa had been down the chimney. We would turn on the Christmas tree lights and kneel at the foot of the decorated tree and admire it and feel the good feelings of family, our fraternal relationship and the cherished holiday season.

We were allowed during this time together, just he and I, to exchange one Christmas present to each other. It was special. Some years we would pick themes, or joke presents or sports or books, whatever it was.

We had done it for years and now I would dearly miss the most special moment of the whole year that I ever had with Shaun over our short years together. Well, Mom had clued Greg in on the tradition weeks before. I did not know this and Greg said nothing, only was prepared in more ways than one.

That Christmas Eve night before midnight all I could do was sit on the edge of my bed now worrying that I would fall apart if I followed through. Greg was in my room with me at the time. We talked and passed the time and then, midnight came. I looked at him. He looked at me, “Come on Randy,” he said solemnly, standing and held out his hand.

A tear started to roll down my face. I didn’t resist, I stood and took his hand. We were both dressed in pajamas. It could get cold in Fresno that time of year; but more than that, it was what Shaun and I would wear on Christmas Eve since we were little boys even in our later years. Greg knew that and held to the tradition.

I walked downstairs with him, convinced I had things under control and greatly admired Greg more than ever for the effort he was making on my behalf. We got to the Christmas tree and I kneeled in front of its holiday glory and the pile of colorfully wrapped presents underneath. I stayed still a moment, silent, Greg kneeling right next to me.

Then I sighed, “So, we used to exchange one present each,” and I reached out and grasped the box that I had wrapped and prepared myself for Greg. I held it, looked at it and then completely dissolved into loud, wracking sobs. Greg gently hugged me as I poured my emotions all out onto his chest. Missing Shaun had never hurt so much as just then.

Greg was so patient. He said nothing. I stopped crying faster than I thought I could, wiped my face with my sleeve. I looked at him as he wiped a single tear, his face sad for me; but then he managed a smile and then I did too. I gave him the present, “Here, this is for you Greg, Merry Christmas,” just the way I always had said it for Shaun.

Greg took it. He looked at it very carefully turning the box over and over. He made no jokes, no cute remarks, nothing to do with surfing. He carefully removed the ribbon and festive wrapping paper and then opened the box top and looked at the very expensive and cool waterproof chronometer. It had a huge rotating dial with lots of little chrome buttons and silvery markings and numbers.

“Thanks,” he said softly and then swallowed thickly, “Put it on,” I smiled and though he was not Shaun, in a way he was just then for me. He put it on and then shook his head, “Nobody ever gave me a present, not like this. Never had a sister or brother do this, thank you Randy,” wiping his eyes. Suddenly I realized what the moment meant for Greg personally and in a way it felt like this was also a present from both Shaun and I to Greg.

Greg then reached out and grabbed a small wrapped rectangular box, “I did this with your mom. She’s a nice lady like mama Nadine. I enjoyed spending time with her. Merry Christmas Randy,” and handed it to me. I looked at it and smiled, “Thank you Greg,” and I hugged him a little and he patted my back.

I sat back and opened the box. I saw four what looked like small Christmas tree ornaments made out of a clear resin each of which was embedded with shimmering swirls of color. There was a Santa, a star, a small surfboard of all things and even a skateboard shape with tiny wheels.

All had hooks to hang up on the tree. I looked at Greg, “Your mom is a genius with crafts, but I helped her. You see, she and your dad still have some of Shaun’s ashes. She took the ashes and melted them in with the coloring. All the swirls of color in the resin inside each ornament are your brother, preserved forever.”

I stood up, he with me and tears threatened to roll down my face again. Greg took the ornaments into his hand and waited. I sniffed back some moisture, “They’re beautiful Greg. Help me to hang them up,” and we did and I took a big breath and let it out. I nodded, “Wow, thank you,” and stood back and admired that I would always have a little of Shaun during Christmas and that made me feel good.

* * * * * * * * * *

One week later, Greg and I drove back to Huntington Beach for New Years. The Ridgers hosted a New Year’s Eve party at their house. It was jam packed with people including all of my main surf crew and friends, many coming and going throughout the evening. Finn, Ry and I hosted our buds in Finn’s room. It was a blast as we all rang in the New Year at the stroke of midnight. Mike even brought in some bubbly for all of us guys to enjoy including Ry.

A short while after midnight I stood outdoors alone with Gar on the front lawn, firecrackers going off in the near and far distance as well as some distant hoots and hollers all from New Years Eve revelers.

“So grom, what are you goals for the New Year?” he asked me so I did a quick mental review of what I had experienced in the old year.

It was weird; but I felt like Shaun would have given me permission to let him stay in the past, in the old year. It was time for me to move on and start making my own future starting now, in the New Year, “Get better surfing, do good in school and look forward to be the best I can be in everything.”

Gar’s hand settled on my shoulder, “Good goals Randy, good goals and you’ll make it too. I know you will or I’ll kick your butt,” and I felt his hand squeeze my shoulder and looked at his two rows of gleaming white teeth, smiling at me big.

Next:  Part Seven

© Copyright PJ Franklin September 7, 2014

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