Date: Wed, 23 Apr 2014 20:36:43 -0700 (PDT) From: Rob Roth Subject: Dylan's Summer Vacation Two, Chapter 58 DYLAN'S SUMMER VACATION TWO Chapter 58 by Donny Mumford As Jumper and I head back to the boardwalk, he asks, "Um, you're submissive during sex, aren't you, Dylan? You weren't submissive before, so it kinda surprised me you became submissive when I fucked you, it was a very pleasant surprise though. No complaints from me at all. Terry can't let himself go like you can. He wants to be a 'bottom', but he's in a constant battle with himself trying to prove he's not a bottom type. Like I told ya, he tries giving the impression he's a tough guy, when he isn't. He's sweet actually, if a little smothering with his love and it feels awkward at times. You on the other hand are comfortable enough with who you are that you allow yourself to enjoy being submissive in sex. I gotta admire that." I go, "People misunderstand and think it's a sign if weakness, but I've never seen it that way. Right from the first sex I ever had I got a sexual thrill acting submissive for my sex partner. Heh heh, of course I didn't have much choice 'cause my sexual mentor dominated my ass. I just figured that's the way I'm suppose to be... you know, since I much prefer the other guy doing the fucking it's only fair I let him do it the way he wants. Plus, I didn't know any better. My first sex partner took control right from step one, like I didn't have a choice, and since his sex created unbelievably great feelings in me, ones I never imagined even exited, I was grateful for the pleasure he provided me. Consequentially I wanted to please him so I could experience those otherworldly sensations again. That concept has grown stronger over the years. I'm not sure, but perhaps because my sexual mentor taught me to be basically submissive to him, that's how I'm most comfortable being during sex. This was further emphasized by my first real boyfriend, a kid named Willie. He was always sort of the dominant one in our sex life, and me acting submissive in sex seemed to be the way to go since my early sex teachers more or less insisted on it. I imagine a lot of the reasons for it are hidden in my subconscious mind." Walking up the ramp to the boardwalk, Jumper goes, "Damn, it's a good thing we're not living close to one another because I'd probably have to drop Terry and spend all my time getting you to love me like Terry does. I'd feel like a shit doing it to Terry, but you're just about irresistible. You must have gay boys drooling all over you in your neighborhood, um, where do you live again?" I tell him, "I don't think I've mention that to you. It's Framingham, Massachusetts, but nobody's drooling over me. I have a boyfriend named, Robby, who I love. He working this week or he'd be here with me." No need to complicate things by mentioning Ryan, Ray, Sonny, or Seth, or anyone else for that matter. I don't kiss and tell. Jumper and I talk as we unhurriedly wander down the boardwalk stopping here and there for drinks or to sample the various goodies available for sale from the unending chain of stores and booths. I get a tingle in my balls walking past 'Mohawk's Tattoo and Piercing Shop', but I don't mention the history of me and mohawk man to Jumper. Jumper's and my conversation reveals we're both big fans of gay sex, describing what we like most and both agreeing that the worse gay sex we ever had was pretty damn good. Nothing Jumper says gives me the impression he's anything other than a well adjusted gay nineteen year old, fairly intelligent with a good sense of humor. He does well in his college studies and even plays electric guitar in a five man college rock band that entertains at frat parties. He was active in two sports going to high school and now he's commuting to New York University. Like me he'll be a sophomore when the fall semester begins. He commutes to college because his mother and father won't allow him to live on campus for vague reasons I don't quite understand. In addition to having mutual gay friends along with Terry, Jumper has a circle of straight friends from college and while he played high school soccer and ran track. He's not going out for any college teams. He doesn't care for mainline American sports and he doesn't consider soccer an American sport... he's right, it's not. Neither is hockey, but so what? We can lay claim to baseball and basketball for sure. I'm not sure about football, but I'm betting it's also American made. Sex-wise, Jumper wants nothing to do with BDSM and doesn't appear to know much about it anyway. I don't share what I know about the topic because I can see where some who aren't into it might consider it sort of sick, and some of it is I guess. It's all a matter of preference, although some activities are so far removed from the norm that most of us don't get 'it', and don't want to get it. Jumper claims not to have a sexual fetish of any kind which led us to a discussion about my submissiveness during sex, and is it a fetish. Jumper doesn't think it sounds like a fetish, although he admits he doesn't know much about fetishes either. I try unsuccessfully talking him into going on a thrill ride. His reason for not doing that is that getting the shit scared out of him isn't his idea of fun. What the fuck, to each their own. He doesn't want to try any of the carnival games either, saying, "What the fuck would I do with any of those cheesy prizes in the unlikely event I won one?" He sees a lot of things differently then I do as an America born and raised. He grew up mostly in India so it's understandable he'd sees things differently. I'm dying for a cigarette but cigarette smoke is offensive to most nonsmokers, like Jumper, so I don't light up. We're just about done for the night anyway, so I can wait awhile longer. It's about twelve-thirty when Jumper surprises me by saying, "Tonight's probably the last chance I'll get to see you, Dylan. See you alone I mean. Terry will be here tomorrow and we're leaving Tuesday so, um, would you like to, you know, fuck again?" I suck on my lips thinking it's getting late and I want a cigarette, plus he fucked me really good earlier so I'm not especially horny at the moment. On the other hand this could be my last chance for sex until I get home. He's looking at me, then he grins, "We could take a walk on the beach and find a secluded spot to do it. It's a beautiful night and I've never had sex outside, have you?" Well, yeah, I have, but I say a little white lie number 6054, "I don't remember ever doing it outside." And that makes me think of the hot sex Ryan and I had behind his aunt and uncle's house when they were at the Cape. That hot memory is the tipping point, I say, "Okay, you hottie, fuck me in the sand." He chuckles, "God, I hope were not oversexed, but come on," and he grip my forearm pulling me towards steps leading to the beach, and again I think, 'Hey, I didn't really have a choice about it this time either'. Jumper would have found a way to get me on the beach and one thing would have led to another. As we're going down the steps, with Jumper still leading me with his grip on my arm, I ask, "I didn't have a chance this time either, did I?" He goes, "Not really, but don't make it sound like I'm raping you. You want it, Dylan, I can tell. I'm beginning to think you always want it so I'm seriously considering moving to Framingham... Ha ha." He laughs at that, but then Jumper laughs easily at a lot of things. On the beach he gets his arm around my neck and does the lips on my ear whispering-thing again, "Dylan, be real submissive for me again, okay? That was so hot earlier, I had a super climax." We take off our sandals and walk in the sand, with me explaining, "I can't fake being submissive, Jumper, it needs to happen on it's own." I don't want to complicate things by explaining that I don't always feel submissive during sex, just when my sex partner does something that my brain perceives as dominant. The dominant angle sounds kind of like a branch of BDSM, which Jumper doesn't approve of. Also it might sound like I have a lot of sex with many different partners, some I'm submissive to during sex, and others I'm not, which is another reason I don't go into a further explanation. We walk a few more steps, then Jumper stops, jumps easily a foot up off the sand, yelling, " Wait a damn minute!" I go, "What's wrong?" He says, "I don't have another condom with me. I was planning on buying some tomorrow for Terry's and my last night here." I go, "I don't have any communicable deceases, you can go in bareback." Jumper shakes his head, "I've never ever done that." I ask, "Wouldn't you like to experience it at least once?" He stares at me for a few seconds, then says, "You look too perfect to have anything as nasty sounding as a decease. Okay, but this is a first for me. Do you think I'll notice a big difference?" I say, "You will more than me." He goes, "Really?" and I say, "That's what I've heard, although I'm not really experienced, condom-wise, since Robby and I don't use a one." He asks, "How long have you two been sexually active with each other?" I tell him, "Going on three years, why?" He says, "If you haven't contacted anything in three years, that makes me feel more confident." Then he asks, "Except, ah, does he, um, mess around on you?" I act shocked, "No! Not my Robby!" Jumper mumbles, "Good, that makes me feel even better." There's no one else on the beach and with the moon and stars being bright again tonight if people were walking the nighttime beach we'd see them. Jumper says, "I got an idea, stop walking." I stop and he gets in front of me to unsnap my shorts and pull them down to my feet, then my underwear, "Step out of them, Dylan. You walking with your dick hanging free might make you feel submissive to me." I laugh, "What a treat for the people walking the boardwalk tonight, but being naked has never bothered me, Jumper, so I don't think that will make me feel submissive. It feels wonderful having the ocean breeze cooling my junk actually... haha." He laughs too, handing me my shorts, then he puts my jockey underwear on my head, saying, "Nice hat." I mutter, "Maybe if you lead me with my dick, like it's a leash, I might feel a submissiveness come over me." He takes hold of my cock and off we go, with Jumper saying, "Keep your hat on too. I'd pull it down over your nose except then I couldn't see your cute face." Because we're walking in sand there's uneven footing and Jumper's pulling me along by my dick in a jerking manner. His hand moving on my cock is creating friction so my cock is getting hard. It'd get hard being held in his hand even if his hand wasn't moving, but not this fast. He looks over his shoulder at me grinning, saying, "This is the first time I've held a guy's cock as it's getting hard. It feels way cool." I'm right behind him almost stepping on his heels because my cock/leash is only six inches long. Jumper again looks back, this time at his fist holding my cock, "Ya know, Dylan, I really like that shaved look ya got down there, it's a nice clean look. Terry would never have the guts to do that." I mutter, "Uh huh," concentrating on my cock. It's feeling real good as the uncut foreskin withdraws from the head as my dick bones-up further. After we've walked a block or so Jumper leads us under the boardwalk among the thick supports that hold the boardwalk up off the beach. At this section the boardwalk's about twenty feet above the sand. The supports looks like very fat telephone poles embedded in concrete. Above us we can hear hundreds of people walking which makes a constant scuffling sound that blends with the roar of the ocean as the waves break along the shoreline a hundred yards down the sloping beach from us. We're under one of the piers where amusement rides are located, so there's carnival music to go with the sounds of the rides' as their motors and grinding gears announce metal on metal contact, and that mixes with sounds of people screaming on thrill rides of one kind or another. Letting go of my boner, Jumper takes his cock out through the zipper of his shorts, and says, "Get on your knees, please." Dropping my shorts in the sand, I drop to my knees with a hand on each of Jumper's thighs, and he moves his flaccid cock around my face and across my lips. As he does that, he mutters, "You might be addictive, Dylan. It's so hot when you do whatever I tell you, and oh my God you're as sexy as they come... cute too. A lethal combination as far as I'm concerned. You're kinda like a sexual narcotic and I can imagine getting addicted to you." He drags the head of his cock between my lips, and across the front of my teeth, muttering, "Ohh, that feels good." His cock is firming up now, so he says, "Would you mine awfully opening up your cute mouth?" I open my mouth sticking my tongue out covering my bottom teeth and Jumper very slowly slides his hard cock into my mouth on my tongue. As he does it, he goes, "Mmmm, sooo nice." He slides his cock all the way back on my tongue until the head bumps into the back of my throat, "Suck my big cock, Dylan, let me feel your tongue too." Jumper rubs through my hair knocking my underpants off, then the fingers of both his hands massage my head and down the back of my head. He squeezes the back of my neck giving me chills down my spine and making my shoulders shudder. Finally he massages my shoulders, really gripping hard with his long fingers. Jumper looks in my eyes, smirkingly pleased with the oral sex and the feel of my body. He mutters, "Suck my cock you beautiful fucking thing. Damn, I wish we were staying here longer, but Terry needs to be back Tuesday. I'd love to experience this with you again," and he pats my cheek, saying, "Dude, you're what I'll think about whenever I think of Wildwood, and that'll probably be true the rest of my life. You are special, my friend," and he starts rubbing down my back a little, mumbling to himself, "What a choice body." I'm quite contented too because I love sucking a cute boy's cock, and his cock is another one that's a mouthful. The texture of soft skin over the hard shaft is so sexy to have in my mouth, the fat head being my favorite part to suck on. Jumper mumbles, "My dick won't get much harder than this, so here we go," and he grips my head with both hands and pulls my face into his pubic hairs with his cock gagging the shit out of me going down my throat, just like it did last time. It's actually too big to be deep throating, not that I have much choice in the matter. Jumper's unconcerned about my gagging as he's pulling harder at the back of my head, not content until my face is plastered into his pubes, flat against his belly. He humps his hips a little, then grinds them as he moans, "Oooh, mmmm, yeaaah, that's soooo good, oooh, mmmm, umph, umph, aaah." I struggle, but he holds my face against him continuing to hump his hips, just little hip movements that moves his boner in my throat a tiny bit more and bringing a fear of vomiting. I struggle some more as Jumper mumbles, "Just a couple more seconds. Aaaaaah, ooh, ooh, ooh," and then he backs up a bit and his cock plops out of my throat to ooze precum on my tongue. Jumper's taking deep breaths, followed by a mumbled, "That's awesome." Then, as I'm sucking in oxygen refilling my lungs, he does it again and his cock goes down my throat easier this time, but not easily. Jumper's not shy about pleasuring himself and he does the same hip movements, keeping his cock in my throat longer this time. When panic is beginning to buzz around in my brain his cock is pulled out of my throat again to lay on my tongue drooling much more precum, which builds up and I need to consciously swallow. I'm too busy inhaling to complain when his hands go behind my head again and he pulls my face to his hairy belly once more. I've discovered recently I'm able to gage my level of submissiveness by how docile I get, how pliable and easily handled I am, and since I'm completely docile now I know I'm in it fairly deep. It's probably because of the way Jumper's doing what he wants without much concern for me, although that's partly my fault for not complaining, except I can't complain because I'm in a submissive trance. That would make most people mad, but it makes me happily more submissive because sex is involved. Submissiveness increases the sexuality for me. It'd be a completely opposite reaction if someone on the job, for example, was taking advantage of me, or if someone butts in front of me in a line of some sort, but with sex it hits the right buttons in my subconscious mind and I get submissive. Jumper does his deep throating exercise two more times and then steps back pulling his cock entirely from my mouth. His boner's sloppily shining in the light that slips through the cracks of the boardwalk. It shines wetly from my saliva mixed with his copious amounts of precum. He chuckles, "I don't dare touch my cock or I'd pop a load all over you. Man, you give the best head I've ever fucking had. You're a freakin' genius with that." I'm in a daze with my own boner so hard all I can do is stare at it in amazement. I'm on my knees in the sand, naked from my waist down, my jockey shorts laying in the sand next to me, along with my shorts. In a daze I lift my eyes to stare at Jumper, then my eyes drop down to his rock-hard cock sticking out the zipper of his shorts, dripping precum. He's excited, "Hey, we're in Wildwood so lets do something wild. After I fuck you lets go skinny dipping in the Atlantic." He's looking at me with a big grin, "What do you say?" I gulp, then mutter, "Okay," and his eyes open wide, "Oh, you're being submissive, right? Oh good, um," and he wipes his lips with his thumb, thinking I guess. Then he takes his pants off, then his underpants. He hooks the bottom of his jockey short's waistband under my chin and the top waistband goes over the crown of my head so when I inhale the underwear material is sucked against my face. His underpants smell like him, not like farts. He says, "I'm into wild things tonight, Dylan, and since it appears to be okay to do what I want, I thought I'd sacrifice looking at your face and let you smell my underpants. Now turn around and get on your hands and knees." I do that and he wipes his cock at my anus, asking, "Without lube, is there a secret to this, or should I just pile-drive in?" I shrug, not wanting to speak for fear of losing this dreamy state I'm in. He goes, "I got it, a little saliva will help," and a second later I feel a long drool of Jumper's saliva wet my left butt cheek. He moves the spit to my asshole with the head of his boner and then, without warning, plugs the head of his fat cock past my sphincter muscle and moans, "Aaaah, oooh fuck, this does feel better. Jesus!" I grunt at the pain which quickly fades, and then returns when Jumper pushes his big boner three inches further up my ass. This is the opposite of the lazy fuck earlier where he went agonizingly slow. Just as the second wave of pain drifts away a new one comes when he drive his hips forward and shoves the rest of his boner up my ass, pushing me six inches forward in the process. I slid in the sand on my hands and knees. He's doing a series of grunts, then, raspy breathing and finally, "Mmmm, this is the bomb, Dylan. Awesome!" All the pain is fading from my rectum and I kind of wish Jumper would smack my ass a few times or do something dominant, but he'd never think of doing that on his own, and anyway, I've been losing interest in spankings lately. Jumper slowly pulls his boner back out and immediately pushes it right back up my ass, hurting again, but the third time he thrust his boner up my ass it goes in without any pain, just a nice full filling inside me. He grips my sides near my waist, his fingers reaching around to my stomach, and begins fucking me at a fairly normal speed. Jumper reaches over my back to pull his underpants off my face, mumbling to himself, "That wasn't a very nice thing to do." I guess he's not the wild and crazy guy he thought he was. The super sensitive spots in my ass soon light up and begin a series of awesome vibrations and there's buzzing and sizzling in my rectum. I'm moaning to myself savoring the world of sexual pleasure I find myself in. My balls are actively producing sperm as the head of my cock leaks precum that drool down the shaft onto my balls. Just when I feel the beginnings of an orgasm, Jumper pulls his cock all the way out. Why does he do that? He says, "Whew, that's hot. You've got a tight ass so maybe you're not as sexually active as you should be. Now I want a different sensation on my bareback fucking cock! You're a bad influence on me, I'll be tempted to go bareback again and that's just so crazy. Get on your back if you don't mind." I roll onto my side and then my back getting sand all over me, including my ass. Jumper drops to his knees and lifts my legs holding both ankles in his left hand while he brushes sand off my ass with the other hand. Then he stands up, still holding my ankles, but with both hands now so he can lift my ass off the ground and pile sand under me with his foot. He apparently wants my ass raised. Dropping me gently on the pile of sand I feel sand under my t-shirt, and now my asshole is about a foot above my head. He mutters, "Okay," and gets down low on his knees guiding his boner to my asshole, and him leaning forward pushes his boner all the way in again and it feels absolutely fabulous. It went in at a different angle and I'm like, "Oooooh, ummm, ummm, feels good." Jumper begins a quicker fuck, perhaps going bareback has him a little more anxious for climax. The speed of his penetrations picks up even more putting me in a constant state of sexual stimulations that has my body squirming in the sand as I moan and groan with a pleasure that can't be described. The rectum is a pleasure palace, especially mine. It's not just my rectum though, it's my whole groin area including the inside of my thighs near my groin, it all feels good. Oh God does it ever feels good and my climax is just about to send me into ecstasy. Jumper's making more sounds of pleasure then he did during the first fuck and that also is making it all seem sexier to me. We had our drawn-out sexual experience earlier and now it's a sprint, except he pulls his cock out again... what the fuck? He sits back in the sand, moaning, "Mmmm, umm," then he's taking deep breaths, before he mutters, "Almost lost it there for a second. Bareback is awesome! Why the fuck can't somebody come up with a solution to sexually transmittable diseases. Solve the AIDS one first, please!" I just look at him with my rectum still buzzing beautifully. After a minute he looks at me, "Forget I had that stupid outburst, Dylan, okay? Come on, stand up," as he stands giving me a hand up. He mutters, "Turn around," and I do. With his hands on my shoulders, his boner slides right back up my ass. Jumper breaths loudly as I go, "Ummmm, yeaaah," and he starts fucking me hard making grunting sounds with each thrust, and each thrust moves me a bit forward in the sand until I'm up against one of the pilings with my arms around it and the side of my face against it. The, "Slap, slap, slap," sound of anal fucking is now in my ears as he pounds my ass. Now that I'm stationary the thrusts up my ass are harder and Jumper's going wilder than I'd have thought him capable of. It's the complete opposite of our first fucks and I'm squirming with desire and arousal. Sexy sensations seemingly covering my body. When Jumper cries out and humps into me extra hard as I feel his stream of cum hit inside me and then my cock twitches erupting with spunk. My boner sticks straight up between my stomach and the big round support I'm hugging, so cum shoots up my chest as my body convulses and a wave of sensation flood over me from my toes to my scalp. Jumper's still humping his cock up my ass as three more squirts of cum fire from my cock... it's wiggling enthusiastically against my stomach and then Jumper bites my shoulder and goose bumps raise on my arms as a chill flies down my spine again. He pushes his cock all the way in, his crotch very tight against my buttocks, and he holds it there giving the side of my face a lick, then a kiss. He murmurs, "I could fall so badly for you I'd make a complete fool out of myself kissing your ass. Today I've had the two best fucks I've ever had. I swear to God, both were the best fucks of my life and both in one day and with the same guy. Will you marry me?" and he laughs. Obviously Jumper's not the romantic type. He may be serious about our fucks being awesome, but love isn't part of his itinerary. He already told me he doesn't love Terry even though Terry's in love with him. Jumper compliments our sex, but jokes about marriage. I'm not saying that a single word of love should pass between us, because that's idiotic, but what I am saying is that there'd never be talk of love no matter how long a relationship Jumper might be in. Some guys are like that, and perhaps I don't know Jumper well enough to have that opinion of him, but I bet I'm right and that makes me appreciate Robby all the more because he's a romantic, and romantic love is what we're all about. Without that I don't see how a relationship can last very long. Maybe an 'arrangement' can last, but not a relationship because that requires love. That's what I believe anyhow. We stay up against the pole for awhile, his cock still inside me as we catch our breath and come down off climax mountain. Then he rubs my head, saying, "You're a damn good sex partner, Dylan." He pulls his cock out and cum runs down my buttocks. I had to bite my lip to keep from moaning as his cock slid out. I turn around leaning back on the pole now, and say, "You fuck good, Jumper, but I was hoping you jumped while you fucked." He laughs, "I've tried it and believe me, it doesn't really work. I need to consciously tell myself, 'No jumping, Jumper!' ha ha."He says, "I don't know why I jumped as a kid, but it's grown on me. I did the indoor sixty meters hurtles in high school, and while jumping over the hurtles was easy, my legs aren't as fast as some of the other kids in between the hurtles." Pushing away from the pole, I ask, "How about the high jump?" Jumper says, "Oddly, I can't jump particularly high, and anyway most high jumpers do the Fosbury Flop, which means you go over the bar backwards, looking up. I never even tried that." We're picking up our clothes with Jumper chuckling, then admitting, "I don't know if I actually have the balls to do skinny dipping. I have a feeling the beach patrol might frown on that." I'm trying to brush sand off my arm, but there's sand on the palms of my hands from being on all fours earlier. I say, "Lets do a sprint to the water and a quick dive under. We can wear our jockey shorts, they technically could qualify as swimsuits, and what are the chances a beach patrol will come by during the three minutes we're rinsing the sand off us in the ocean?" He nods, "Yeah, fuck it, we're only young once, and this is Wildwood, so we'll do something a little wild. Lets do it without underwear." I say, "That fuck you just laid on my ass already counts as something wild, but you can go for another wild act to write about in your memoirs." He laughs, "Yeah, that'll be a best seller. Everyone will want to know what an insignificant kid from India did growing up. You'd be the best chapter, Dylan." I ask, "Shall we race?" as I pull my t-shirt off. Jumper takes off running, yelling back, "Yeah, lets race!" I take off running after him, naked as the second I was born, my dick flapping as sand kicks up behind me. Both Jumper and me are laughing, feeling a little foolish and a little nervous about being caught naked in the water or on the beach. And we're not even drunk. It'll be a little bit hard to explain if we're caught doing this. I can't catch Jumper before he hits the water, but he's only six feet ahead of me when I reach the ocean and we both slow down drastically because running in water ain't easy. He looks back, and yells, "It's fucking freezing!" It does feel very cold, but I dive under as soon as the water's almost up to my swinging dick. A shock to the body initially, but I soon gets used to it and swim out a little deeper. I can still touch bottom if I want to, so this is as far out as I'm going. Jumper doesn't even swim out this far. He's a clumsy swimmer and a picture of Dodger flashers in my mind. It's Dodger swimming in his pool as smoothly and effortlessly as a seal. I miss him. We swim for longer then we intended, it's been maybe five minutes and then I hear a car's engine. The fucking beach patrol. I say, "Jumper, swim under water when we can see their Jeep." He laughs quietly, then says, "This is going to be fucking embarrassing." The Jeep never appears though, the engine sound quickly gets weaker and weaker until we can't hear it over the noise from the pier. The fact we could hear it at all means it was really close. We wade out of the ocean and jog back to the safety of the pilings supporting the pier. "That was awesome, Dylan, but how we gonna get dry?" I shrug, "I'm gonna use my t-shirt to dry my ass, then put my shorts on, and stuff my sand-covered jockey shorts in my pocket. On the boardwalk we'll run right across it shirtless over to the off ramp that's across from the stairs." After shaking as much sand off my t-shirt as I can, I dry my ass, cock, and balls. Then shake sand from my shorts and put them on, stuffing my underwear in a pocket. Jumper does the same and, carrying our t-shirt and sandal's, we trudge back up the beach the way we came. We easily find the steps leading to the boardwalk and up we go. At the top we peak around and then streak across, dodging the startled walkers, and down the ramp on the other side of the boardwalk. Jumper's laughing all the way. On the sidewalk, he says, "This was a fun night, Dylan," and he holds out his hand. It seems funny shaking hands after we've kissed, hugged, and fucked, but that's what we do. He says, "It's been real, Dylan. Great meeting you." I return those sentiments, then I go left and he goes right, probably never to see each other again. When I'm safely back in our rented duplex I run into Chubby, who's just coming out of the bathroom after a shower. He sees my hair's wet and asks, "Bro! What's ya been up to?" I say, "Well, since you dumped me I had nothing to do, so I tried drowning myself in the ocean, then I remembered you need a haircut so I'll do that in the morning, and drown myself later." He says, "That's a good plan, except don't you remember? We got that beer party tomorrow night, so you might want to hold off on the drowning until Wednesday." I go, "Oh, yeah, I forgot about the beer party, but Wednesday's my birthday. Oh man, it's always something. Maybe I'll rethink drowning myself, but for now I need a shower badly." After my shower I brush my teeth and get in bed with Chubby, falling asleep hugging him. Next morning we sleep until almost eleven o'clock. I woke up earlier, but dozed back to sleep to catch-up on the sleep I've been missing recently. I'm a teenager for one more day, then it's over, Wednesday's my twentieth birthday. The horror! Chubby and I do our necessary bathroom stuff, get dressed in shorts, t-shirts, and sandals, then have juice and coffee on the deck, smoking a cigarette while deciding if we'll do Chubby's haircut before or after we get something to eat on the boardwalk. It's another perfect beach day and the moms are already there under an umbrella . Their twin boyfriends are coming down to join them Wednesday afternoon. The guys will be staying at a motel for the rest of the week, which will keep the moms busy. I do not want to know the details of the busy part. Chubby wants the haircut first so I get out my barber tools and ask him how he wants it cut. He pulls his t-shirt over his head, saying, "Something sexily cute to impress the girls." I give him the classic short cut, as short as a burr haircut except I leave the bangs an inch and a quarter so he can comb it up in front. Before I use the trimmers to outline around his ears I hug around his neck and give him a long kiss on the side of his forehead like I do for a lot of the boys I give haircuts to. Chubby smells so good it makes me dizzy. He's makes a face like my kiss is something unpleasant, so I say, "You better smile or you'll get worse, like a kiss on the lips, which I forgot to give you this morning," and I lean down and kiss his lips, muttering, "Those girlfriends of yours are so lucky. They make me jealous." He goes, "Hey, I'm sleeping with you. They should be jealous of you." I use the trimmer around his ears, then use both hands to ruffle his head getting off some random clippings. After that I mess around combing his bangs different ways to drag out the haircut. Chubby asks, "Are ya done gets?" and I mutter, "Unfortunately yes. You look so cute with this haircut." He checks himself out as I sweep up the short hair clipping. He says, "Yeah, you're right, I do look damn cute, thanks, Dylan, you're good, dude." We wander up to the boardwalk speculating about tonight's beer party and agree it'll probably get out of control, as often happens when a lot of college kids get together to primarily see who can get the drunkest. Chubby and me vow not to get smashed. It's afternoon so we're gonna grab some lunch, not breakfast. Halfway down the second block on the boardwalk there's an open front shop doing old favorite standbys like hamburgers, hotdog's, cheese steaks, french fries, and fountain drinks made from sweet syrup and carbonated water. Also milkshakes, root beer floats, ice cream cones, and the like. We watch the kid frying the hamburgers and decide they look damn good so we go inside and sit at the counter, although there are booths available. A cute kid is taking orders for the half of the counter we're sitting at. Hmmm, I look around and all the employees: three cooks, four waiters, and two soda jerks are all teenage boys. And they all are dressed the same in jeans and white t-shirts with the name of the restaurant across the back. These are the daytime shift so there's another nine who work the shift from four o'clock until eight. I'm guessing, but that's probably how it goes. The cooks work the grille in the front, right on the boardwalk, and next to them is the entrance. The cashier faces the entrance, and then the soda fountain, which also opens to the boardwalk, is behind the cashier, who is the only employee not a teenage boy. He's a rather stern looking man who probably owns the joint. All teenage boys that all have the same burr haircuts. Dress code, you know. I can't help but wonder about the stern looking cashier/owner and his stable of teenage boys all dressed and barbered alike, probably by him. No girls allowed I guess. Makes a person go, huh! The cuter of the two waiters comes over to us with a sparkling smile on his cute face, asking, "What can I get you guys?" No name tags, so I try my old trick, "Hey, are you Ken Burn's brother by any chance? Ya sure look like him." This kid's got fiery red hair almost as orange as Sonny's. He goes, "No, I have a sister." I go, "And a brother Ken, right? You must be John." He says, "No, seriously, my names Danny Barbosa." I say, "Oh, my mistake, Danny. Are there any job openings here? This looks like a cool place to work." He says, "I don't think so, Mister Grant, he's the owner and the cashier. He hired us kids from Mount Karmal high school. There's not much pay and he gives us these haircuts every week," as cute Danny rolls his eyes. Then he says, "Those are the two downsides to the job, but we get days off every other week and we're at the shore all summer, so those are two big plusses. I've always wanted to spend a summer in Wildwood and I jumped at the chance to do just that." Chubby and I look at him, probably both thinking this set-up seems strange. Danny again asks, "What can I get you guys?" Chubby says, "Oh yeah, cheesesteak and a vanilla milkshake for me." I say, "Cheeseburger and fries, plus a fountain Coke. You hardly ever see soda fountains anymore." Danny shrugs, writing our order down. I casually ask, "Um, Danny, does Mister cash register man over there ever hangout at nights with you boys at all?" His face turns dark red as he stutters, "Wha? Um, no, no really, he doesn't," and he hurries off down the long counter. Chubby looks at me and says, "I'll bet we're both thinking the same thing." I ask, "Does it have anything to do with window washer boys?" He nods his head, "Do you suppose the owners perv-ing on these cute kids?" I go, "I hope the hell not, but you saw Danny's reaction. What can we do though?" Chubby's like, "Maybe drop an anonymous tip to the police that they need to do some sniffing around this place without drawing attention to themselves. Maybe an undercover cop can talk to the boys confidentially. Something like that." I go, "That's a good idea. At least we'll have tried to do something. I'd hate to think these sweet looking kids were putting out for mister stern over there just so they can spend the summer at the shore. Remember we were psyched to work at the shore the summer before we got jobs?" He goes, "Yeah, and maybe it's a good thing it never worked out." Our food is delivered by Danny without any eye contact now, and no sparkling smile either. I say, "I'm sorry if I upset you, Danny. I didn't mean to imply anything." He mumbles, "You didn't upset me. I'm good, we're all good. No problem at all. We're at the shore all summer, man. Ya know?" I say, "Absolutely," and he takes a quick peak at my eyes, asking, "Um, you worked for Mister Grant before, did ya?" I go, "No, I've never been in this place before in my life." He nods his head a few times, then says, "Enjoy your lunch," and he's off. Chubby and I exchange glances, then he says, "Definitely an anonymous call to the cops are in order." The lunch is really good. My cheeseburger comes with tomato and pickles and it does not look like it's been in someone's back pocket all day, like the hamburgers look like in the fast food joints. Plus, it's about the same price as a McDonald's cheeseburger. Cooked to order is the way to go. This place is getting crowded now, so I guess the word is out that the food is good. And the scenery in here for a gay kids like me, or teen girls like the giggly group in the booth across from us at the counter, is awesome. A scenery of cute teen boys, too young for me, but just right for the girls. That's if the boys are still interested in girls by the end of the summer. When paying the cashier/owner, I look him in the eyes and his eyes get bigger, "Need a job, son?" he asks. I go, "No, why would you ask that?" He switches to stern, "No reason, the bill please." I hand it to him and treat Chubby to lunch. We look for a pay phone on our way back, but they're scarce. Then we see one and Chubby goes, "Let me handle this, Dylan." This phone system charges four quarters for a local call. Between us we come up with four quarters and Chubby calls and gets switched to a detective. Chubby rattles off what we know and suggest someone check it out before they wind-up with an embarrassing scandal on their hands. From what I can hear at this end of the conversation the detective must be trying to get Chubby to give him his name, and finally Chubby just hangs up, and says, "They won't do anything, Dylan. He says anonymous accusations come from disgruntled acquaintances of, in this case, the owner of the restaurant." We're walking towards our duplex again, I say, "He just said that to get you to give your name, but they have to follow-up on all anonymous tips. That's how they solve most of the crimes they solve. Someone needs to tell them where to look. Most cops couldn't find there asshole with two hands and a flashlight." Chubby says, "You and I have never been a fan of the police, but I hope you're right and this time they do some good." We change into swimsuits and take our beach chairs and a football to the beach. Big greeting from the moms, and now that we're here they can go back to the duplex for lunch while we watch their stuff. We can't toss the football on this beach because of the lifeguard. When the moms come back Chubby and I will wander over about two blocks and see if we can get a two-hand touch football game started on that beach. In the meantime we soak-up some rays and improve our tans. Summer tans improve everyone's looks. Sitting in my beach chair with my cool sunglasses on and my t-shirt off, I look at the passing parade. Many people walk the beaches just like Chubby and I do, so sometimes we're the passing parade and sometimes they are. Still not enough cute teen boys to suit me, but maybe I'm just in an unfortunate section of beach. It's all pot luck in that regard. Oh, hmmm, speaking of cute boys, three guys about my age just came out of the water and they're headed up the beach towards Chubby and me. Nice short haircuts and good bodies on all of them, but I can see the tattoos on them from fifty yards away. One of the guys looks cute from here and the closer they get to me, as they talk animatedly and jostle each other, the cuter this one kid looks. Now I can see his face clearly and unfortunately he's got thin wire rings through his nose, eyebrows, and lips. God! Why would someone do that? It's not like I'm all that concerned if someone isn't good looking, but what's wrong with looking the best you can. And when you're blessed with good looks like this kid, don't fuck it up with piercing's or tattoos. It mystifies me why guys and girls fuck-up their appearance by a tattoo on their face or neck, or sticking metal studs through their nose or lip. I mean, look at this kid, he's got six wire rings piercing his face. What the fuck?! Yeah, yeah, I know... they think they've improving their appearance, but get real, being weirdly different doesn't improve anything, if you ask me. I suppose everyone has the right to their own opinion, and so do I and that's mine: looking like a freak doesn't improve one's appearance. Chubby asks, "What are you thinking about, Dylan? You look pissed-off about something." I go, "Look at that kid who just picked-up a towel about twenty feet down, directly down from us. He'd be cute except for all that shit piercing his face." Chubby asks, "Why do you care? You don't even know him." I shrug, "I don't know, it just infuriates me that people stick metal in their face. Have you ever noticed guys with extenders in their earlobes? Hideous! I saw a kid, he wasn't good looking to start with, but that wasn't bad enough, he had put black extender ear rings the size of half dollars in reach earlobe to take his appearance from plain not good looking all the way to hideous. A horrible look. It reminds me of pictures in National Geographic we looked at in high school. African natives had all kinds of shit piercing their ears and lips, and everything, until they don't even look human. And now our modern, computerized civilization, is following their lead. Seems to me it should be the other way around." Chubby laughs, "The things you let bother you are so fucking funny. And, you have pierced ears and a tattoo as well." I go, "Sure, in moderation, not freakish extremes." Chubby chuckles, "Oh, you know just the right amount. Anyone who takes it further than you is a freak. Is that it?" I go, "Why are you picking on me? You should be on my side." He says, "I am, I am, brother. I'll always be on your side, now and forever." I mutter, frowning, "That's better." Getting up I go through the big satchel the moms lugged down. I'm looking for sunscreen, and here it is. "Chubby, we need sunscreen today," and he's like, "Good idea." Chubby stands and I wipe sunscreen on his shoulders, ears, arms, and face. The sun is intense today and it's almost like I can feel it burning my skin. Kneeling in the sand, I wipe the smooth sunscreen cream on his legs and doing that gives me a boner. God dammit, that's embarrassing, but Chubby has the nicest shaped legs ever. He says, "My back too, Dylan, and then I'll do you." I look up at him, and say, "I got a boner doing your awesome legs." He laughs, then says, "I'll get one doing the tops of your feet, so we're even." I try adjusting my hard dick sideways so it isn't poking out my swimsuit so noticeable, and then put sunscreen on the top of Chubby's feet. No way to avoid standing up, so I do with my hand sort of covering my lap. If anyone of our fellow sunbathers is looking at me, there's no way they won't know I've got a boner. Spreading the cool lotion on Chubby's back does nothing to lessen the stiffness of my cock, and then Chubby rubbing the sunscreen on me gets my cock even harder. Chubby's trying not to laugh, but he blurts out a laugh anyway, saying, "Dylan, you're awesome!" Covered in sunscreen I thankfully sit down with a towel across my lap and glance around, but don't see anyone gawking at me. Chubby lights a cigarette still chuckling and it makes me laugh too. He says, "It's fun knowing you, bro." I take the cigarette and pretend to pout, but blurt out a laugh myself. Getting a boner putting sunscreen on my brother, that's fucking pathetic. My boner's only a memory by the time the moms return. They're bubbly as usual, excited their boyfriends are joining them tomorrow. My mom asks me, "What should we do for your birthday, sweetheart?" I say, "Just ignore it. I'm not happy about leaving my teen years." Mom says, "I'm giving you a cute birthday card with money in it so you can buy something you like for yourself." Knowing my mom, she probably read a hundred birthday cards to find just the right one. Tris says, "Me too, Dylan, and your mom and me, plus our boyfriends are taking you and Jeffrey to dinner. Where would you like to eat?" I say, "Well thank you, ladies, money's always the perfect gift as far as I'm concerned. Bushe's is my favorite shore restaurant, but we were just there so how about the Waterfront restaurant in Somers Point?" Chubby says, "Yeah, that's a cool place. I want to go to the Crab Shack in Ocean City for my birthday dinner, and money is good for me too, lots of it." The moms laugh and we talk about the birthday dinners a bit with both Chubby and me imploring the moms not to tell the waitresses it's our birthday. In these places if you tell the waitress or waiter it's someone's birthday they'll get the staff all marching to your table after dinner with a cupcake and a lit candle as they sing happy birthday with everyone in the restaurant gawking at you, and that's uber embarrassing. The mom's promise they won't mention it's our birthday, but they will. Chubby and I carry the football with us as we walk in the sand to the beach two blocks over. It's not as crowded here as our lifeguard beach, and there aren't any younger kids because their parents want a beach with a life guard, which is perfectly understandable. It also happens to keep the little people off the other beaches. Mostly guys and girls appearing to be in their twenties are on this beach, music blaring from a number of groups, some of whom are obviously imbibing alcoholic beverages. They're not doing it conspicuously, like drinking from a can of beer, but they're boozing it up just the same. The ones holding paper cups are the drinkers. You usually don't hold a paper cup and sip on it regularly while smoking cigarettes at the same time everyone else in your group is doing the same thing, unless it's some kind of booze in the cups. Chubby and I start tossing the ball back and forth, away from the sunbathers, nearer the parking lot so we're not bothering anyone closer to the ocean. A big mouth guy yells over, "No ball playing on the beach," someone yells at that guy, "Get serious, dude," and then he says to Chubby, "Toss it here." Chubby does and three guys with that guy get up and join our group. It's not long before others join us and then someone organizes everything, there's always a take-charge type. We get a game of two-hand-touch football going. It inevitably happens this way, and it's cool except none of the guys are particularly interesting to look at, and there's four girlfriends of guys playing, who insist on playing too. Why girls want to do everything guys do is something that I don't get. They want to be treated as girls, but at the same time they want to act like guys. Penis envy no doubt. One girl is good at catching the football while the other three just get in the way. The game starts friendly enough, but everyone's competitive juices start to flowing and it gets serious. No rough stuff, just increased concentration levels and the arguments that go with that. It's fun though, I'm not implying it's not. There are six on a side in the beginning, but that raises to eight on a side as others join in. I can tell the ones in the game who are slightly inebriated, not only by their breath, but their eye hand coordination as well. It's kinda funny actually. The game goes on for a hour and a half, but the sun and heat take their toll and the game fizzles out with both sides claiming victory. The score keeping left something to be desired. Chubby and I walk back to join the moms to drop off the football and swim for a half hour doing body surfing with me spotting a cutie at last. He's probably too young for me, but I'm not planning on having sex with him, just body surfing into him. After awhile he catches on I'm doing it on purpose, and laughingly tells me, "Just for the record, I'm not gay, but feel free to surf into me any time you feel like it, and for you I'll pretend I'm gay." I go, "That's mighty big of you, I'm Dylan." He's Junior Ryder. Each time I surf into him he dunks me under the water. The bodily contact is worth the dunking, but after a bit it gets tiresome. I rub Junior's head, saying, "Thanks for the use of your body, Junior, but me and my brother are gonna dry off for awhile." Junior says, "You're the first gay kid I've ever met." I smile at him and rub his head again, asking, "Why do you assume I'm gay?" He laughs, "Just a wild guess, Dylan." Chubby and I walk up the beach towards our chairs. Chubby asks, "Was that kid cute enough for you," and I go, "Yep." We dry off in the sun as the moms go wading in the ocean up to their waist. Later a long walk on the beach with Chubby making me laugh the whole time. Around five-thirty we call it a day and head up to the house hauling the stuff we and the moms brought to the beach earlier. I love it here, and tonight's the beer party. to be continued... Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com Please consider a tax-deductible donation to Nifty, a nonprofit organization, to help with the expenses of maintaining this huge story site that offers something for everyone. Thank you.