Date: Thu, 22 May 2014 17:01:57 -0700 (PDT) From: Rob Roth Subject: Dylan's Summer Vacation Two, Chapter 66 DYLAN'S SUMMER VACATION TWO Chapter 66 by Donny Mumford Our last full day on the beach for this vacation is now officially over. Only tonight and tomorrow morning remains of my latest Wildwood adventure. Where'd the time go? Right now I'm in the shower thinking about Chubby's birthday dinner tonight and the gift I got for him, and I'm also thinking back on this spectacularly successful week. It was spectacular in many ways, not the least of which were the sexual successes I experienced. Prior to vacation I was worried I'd go all week without sex, but the opposite proved to be the case. I had an unbelievable run of good luck by bumping into a variety of sex partners, each one seemingly better than the one before. I had the most fun with my muppet boy, Junior. He and I fucked each other a number of times, and although he wasn't my hottest sex partner, he's still a very sexy kid. For the hottest sex, the honors belongs to Danny, who I'm hoping to see later tonight for my goodbye-to-Wildwood fuck. Danny's really cute and although baby-faced he takes complete charge of things when fucking. When he's not fucking me he's really just a sweetly naive kid who's very likable. We had really good sex a few times, but my favorite time was him fucking me on the beach at night with the ocean trying to drag us out to sea by it's undertow. That was an adventurous night alright, and even after the sex on the beach the adventure continued with us stealing clean clothes to replace our own wet, sandy ones. We exchanged our clothes for bathing suits and t-shirts from a clothes line across from the beach, and we made this switch at one o'clock in the morning. My very first night in Wildwood I met a guy named, Jumper, who's from India and was borderline cute compared to other boys I met later. Jumper fucked me good, which got me off on the right foot. Then I met handsome Jake at the beer party that Chubby and I basically crashed. He's very good looking and sort of mysterious, but he sure fucked hot and heavy. Very hot, and very heavy, and he's a nice guy as well. My disappointment with Jake is that he wasn't interested in us meeting again later in the week. That surprised me, and it was a bit of a hit to my ego too, but I wasn't going to beg. I didn't even ask, as a matter of fact. As usual I waited to be invited, but the invitation must have gotten lost in the mail, so to speak. Finished my shower, I'm drying myself thinking of the foot fetish play with Chubby that happened one night, and the oral sex I did for my brother when he was done with my feet and suffering blue balls because of it. A rare occurrence indeed was the oral sex between us. At the water park the next day I met a hot Italian boy, Adriano Patel, and his obnoxious little brother, Fabio, who's really cute but interested only in girls. His brother, Adriano, on the other hand, sort of hypnotized me and we ended up in a handicap stall in the water park's men's room where he fucked me the way I later fucked the aforementioned delicious, Junior. We were standing, my back against Adriano's chest, his arms holding my body to him as he pounded my ass driving his cock back and forth in my rectum bringing on an awesome climax. It was one of the best climaxes I had all week and maybe it was the best. During our sex Adriano's body odor flooded my olfactory lobes, but not offensively. It was more a macho masculine scent, very much like Adriano himself. He flashed a 'one' with his index finger to his brother afterwards, as if to say... 'I was his first conquest of many he expects to have in America during his vacation'. I wonder how his total compares to mine this week. Not that I consider getting fucked as a conquest, but I doubt he fared as well as I did, frequency-wise, macho man or not. After my shower I'm padding down the hall from the bathroom to our bedroom with a towel around my waist in case one of the moms is about. In the bedroom Chubby and I hug, with me mumbling for the umpteenth time today, "Happy birthday, bro," I drop the towel and put on clean underwear, then check out what clean clothes I have available now that it's the end of the week. Chubby heads down the hall for his shower, so hmmm, I don't especially like my clean shorts so I pick out a pair of Polo pleated shorts belonging to Chubby, and then pull my last clean sleeveless t-shirt over my head. Looking in the mirror I brush my two-tone blond hair and notice it's lost the crisp look now that it's grows out some. Junior's right, I should let my hair grow some more, except Sonny will have something to say about that I'll bet. Little hoop earrings go on looking cool as usual, my cross necklace and sports watch of course, then my expensive sandals, not the beach ones. Another glance, checking myself out in the mirror... my tan looks good and there's a little touch of sunburn on the bridge of my nose, sort of a healthy look overall and I'm quite pleased with my appearance, while at the same time I take very little credit for it. Grabbing Chubby's birthday gift I venture out to face the world feeling awesome! The moms are still working on looking beautiful, so I take this opportunity to pour a couple ounces of rum into a plastic cup, then add ice and Coke. Tasting it, I overdid the rum unfortunately, so some of the mixture goes in the sink and more Coke is added. Ahh, much better! Out on the deck I put on a 'Walk The Moon' CD and light a cigarette. The sky is blue without a cloud and the refreshing breeze smells of the ocean. One week here on vacation isn't long enough. Next year we gotta figure a way to stretch it to two weeks at least. Maybe Chubby and me will get jobs down here. No, that wouldn't work because I'd miss Robby too much and he sure as shit won't get a job here. He's stuck working for his dad. The moms join me on the deck sooner then I expected. They're carrying an envelope in one hand, a gin and tonic drink in the other, and they catch me smoking. "Dylan! Are you smoking a cigarette?" I look at the cigarette frowning, then at my mom, then at the cigarette, and mumble, 'Where'd this come from?' Um, I thought since I'm twenty years old now, and a college student, I should probably have a cigarette." Tris is trying not to grin as mom hesitates, then says, "Not in the house though, honey, alright?" I go, "Oh, of course not inside." Then I flick my cigarette butt off the CD player, jump up to retrieve it and clumsily go to put the butt out in the ashtray overturning the ashtray in the process. The moms look puzzled at my jumping around after my cigarette butt, then they put birthday cards for Chubby next to my present on the round table with the umbrella over it, and sit down sipping their drinks. They glance at each other, obviously wanting a cigarette with their drinks, then Tris says to me, "Well, it is vacation, so your mom and I make an exception as far as smoking goes." A pack of cigarettes magically appears and they both light up and smoke their cigarettes the way ladies smoke. Their index and middle fingers are straight out holding the cigarette at the very tip of their fingers, perhaps giving the impression of daintiness. Their hand points upwards slightly so the smoke goes straight up and not over their fingers. The cigarette touches their lips only when they're taking a small drag, and they never exhale through their nose. The exhaled smoke is always directed up and away from anyone they're with. Also, they never let the cigarette dangle between their lips as that wouldn't be lady like. They both smoke the same way, like a lady. The ladies tell me about their boating adventures this afternoon highlighted by Rick teaching them to water ski. "It was so much easier than I thought it would be," my mom tells me, "Tris did it better than me, but we both eventually got up on the skis and it's so much fun zipping along on top of the water." Tris say, "Oh, Dee, you did better than me. My gosh, you stayed up on the skis for, what would you say, five minutes, until you hit the wake from that other boat." Mom goes, "Oh no, it wasn't five minutes and you most certainly were better at it than me." This conversation goes back and forth for awhile and is still going on when the boyfriends, Rick and Ron, arrive. Hugs for the moms and pats on my back takes care of the greeting, then the guys drop birthday cards for Chubby on the table. The next order of business is a discussion about which alcoholic beverage they feel like drinking tonight, and they finally settle conveniently on gin and tonics like the moms are drinking. The moms' drinks of clear gin and tonic with the green wedge of lime and the carbonated bubbles drifting up to the top looks refreshing, but I happen to know it taste ghastly. I tried one once and couldn't finish it, and the same for gin martinis. Both are basically undrinkable! Rick, mom's date, goes inside and makes drinks for him and Ron as my mom asks, "No beer tonight for you, Dylan?" I go, "I'm starting with a Coke, mom, maybe I'll have a beer a little later to celebrate Chubby's twentieth birthday." Okay, that lie by omission brings my little white lies total to 6057, which isn't bad for twenty years on this earth if you ask me. When everyone has their drinks the talk among the adults is all about waterskiing earlier today. What the hell, I light another cigarette and smoke it like a guy smokes. Well, guys smoke different ways, but none smoke like ladies, and when we're doing something with both hands, of course the cigarette dangles between a our lips. Years ago when Chubby had a broken wrist and couldn't give me a haircut I ventured into the closest barbershop and encountered an old barber who gave me a haircut with a cigarette dangling between his lips the whole time. That's taking it a wee bit too far, but for doing something quick with both hands the dangling cigarette seems a very efficient way of handling the situation. Done my rum and Coke I go inside to get a beer and bump into Chubby in the kitchen. I hug him again, because that's what we do, give him a birthday kiss, then say for the tenth time today, "Happy birthday little brother, how's it feel not being a teenager?" He goes, "To be perfectly honest, it feels quite similar to how I felt yesterday, except I'm a day older." I go, "How unusual. Are you getting a beer?" He goes, "I'm leaning heavily towards something stronger to start with, and since my favorite person in the world is here with me, why not do shots of this delightful VO concoction first." Oh shit, I hate shots. Chubby pours VO into two shot glasses, filling both to the rim, so I protest, "You're only suppose to fill it to the line that's around the shot glass, that's an ounce." He says, "Nonsense! That's only for airport bars. Regular bars give the patron a full shot." He lifts his shot glass, so I've got no choice but to lift mine too 'cause losing face in front of Chubby is never an option. He says, "To you, Dylan, the one person who brings me happiness every single day of my life." I mutter, "Right back at ya, bro," and we flash the scolding burning liquid into our mouths. It takes me two swallows to get it down my throat and the second swallow is worse than the first because the first one set my throat on fire. Tears run down my face as I swallow repeatedly trying not to throw up. Chubby pats my shoulder, saying, "Wasn't that awesomely smooth!" I swallow again and try to contradict him, but my eyes get big instead as Chubby pours another two shots of VO, mumbling, "Ya only have one twentieth birthday, so it's worth a second shot." Chubby hands me my shot glass, "Your turn for a toast," so I repeat what I had engraved on his faux dog tags, "There's no other love like the love for a brother, and no other love like the love from a brother," Chubby says, "So true, bro, I love that toast!" and we drink the shots with the same results. I'm still fighting the urge to vomit as Chubby washes the shot glasses, cheerfully telling me, "Shots should be mandatory for any front end loading we do before a party of any kind, and I think two is the perfect amount, don't you?" I'm guzzling a cup of water, then says, "Yeah, I think you're right. Certainly no more then two though," as I wipe the tears off my face with a paper towel. Opening the refrigerator, looking for a beer, Chubby comes over and puts his arm across my shoulders, asking, "Anything but Rollin Rock in there?" I say, "Yeah, probably the guys brought it over. We got Stella Artois tonight," and Chubby goes, "Sweet!" We open two bottles and join the crew on the deck. Chubby gets a big greeting as the 'Birthday Boy', and they start in singing happy birthday which I happily chime in on expecting Chubby to feel as awkward as I did Wednesday, but of course he doesn't feel awkward at all. He acts like he's leading a band, swinging his arm in time with the singing and when the song is finished, Chubby goes, "One more time," and we sing it again. The adults think Chubby's reaction quite humorous and after the lame song is sung twice they hug, kiss, and shake hands with Chubby making a big fuss over him. Better him than me. Chubby then hears all about the water skiing and I hear about it for the second time, but I don't mind because I like when the moms are excited and happy about something. By the time we're all on our second drink everyone is smoking and Chubby's introduces his new form of factoids. It's what he calls... 'Little know facts from the 1500's'. He asks, "What's the origin of brides carry a bouquet of flowers down the aisle?" Nobody knows of course, so Chubby goes, "This is true: Back in the 1500s most people got married in June because they took their annual bath in May, so while they smelled okay for a few weeks, they were beginning to stink again by June, hence the sweet smelling flowers carried by the bride. The tradition continues to present day." We stare at Chubby, who continues on, "Yeah, it's a fact, and the bath consisted of a big tub of soapy water which the man of the house had the privilege of using first, then the sons, then the wife, and babies were last. Hence the phrase, 'Don't throw the baby out with the bath water." I go, "I never heard that phrase. How 'bout sowing your wild oats?" He says, "I don't know about that. Maybe it wasn't from the 1500s. You've heard the phrase, 'chewing the fat', haven't you? Well, meat was rare in those days, but if someone got hold of some bacon they'd hang it up to show off for visitors. It was a sign of wealth that a man could 'bring home the bacon'. They would cut off a piece and sit around, 'chewing the fat'." We're all exchanging glances, like, 'what the fuck?', then Ron says, "Glad I didn't live then," and Tris asks, "Where do come up with these, um, strange facts, Jeffrey?" Chubby says, "I hear stuff, or read it," he taps his temple, "Plus I've got a brain like a steel trap." I ask, "What's the origin of that phrase, brainiac?" He goes, "Don't know, so it wasn't from the 1500s." He regals us with a couple more words of wisdom from the 1500s. He goes, "They drank strong whiskey and ale from lead cups in the 1500s, which wasn't too smart and more than a little unhealthy to start with, as we now know. Anyway, when they'd drink themselves into a stupor and collapse in the road on the way home neighbors who stumbled upon them weren't sure if they're drunk or dead, so they'd bring them home to wait a few days and see if the drunk would wake up. Hence the custom of holding a 'wake'." I ask, "Has anybody got some paper and a pen? I'd like to take notes." My mom chuckles, then says, "I think this is very interesting, Jeffrey. Do you know any other 1500s factoids?" He goes, "How about this one: In England they'd run out of grave sites so they dug up existing coffins, discarded the bones and reused the grave site. Some dug-up coffins had scratch marks on the inside of the lid indicating they'd stupidly buried some people alive. So to prevent this in the future, they tied a string on the wrist of the corpse, the string came up through a hole in the coffin lid to a bell above ground. Someone would have to sit at the grave all day and night listening for the bell, hence the term, 'the graveyard shift'. Someone could be 'saved by the bell' or else the corpse was a 'dead ringer'." I have to laugh out loud. He's too much! Chubby's either incredibly clever to make this shit up, or it's true. If true it just proves my point about how crazy some sayings are. I mean ones we use in modern times even though the saying no longer makes any sense, but we still have a general understanding of the point of it. Like, 'look who's calling the kettle black', which makes no sense to me except I know what the inference is. Mercifully, Rick breaks-up the factoids by telling a joke and then Ron has one, neither are all that funny, but funnier than the 1500s stuff. I've got a quick joke muppet boy told me today, so I tell it even though it has a curse word in it. I go, " This is about the agony of aging. On the morning Daylight Saving Time ended a guy visits and elderly acquaintance and finds the old fellow busily covering his penis with black shoe polish. He kindly says, "Ya dumb shit! You're suppose to turn your clock back." All the guys laugh, but the moms don't get it. Rick explains it diplomatically and I go, "Pardon my language, ladies," and Tris says, "The jokes girls tell at work are ten times as risqué as that one, honey." Then they're back talking about their water skiing until Tris asks Chubby, "Aren't you going to open your cards, Jeff?" He goes, "I'm pretty sure I know what's in the envelopes and I thank you all from the bottom of my heart in advance, but let's see what we have here," and he picks up an envelope, saying, "I'll save Dylan's present for last." He opens the envelopes one by one, reading the birthday card out loud, and then makes a big fuss about thanking the person who gave him the card and birthday money. To tease me, Chubby thanks each person for twice the amount of money I'd gotten in my birthday cards. The gift givers smile, knowing Chubby's kidding, but I don't know that, and I'm again wondering, 'what the fuck?'. I don't say anything of course, but can't resist casually picking up one of the cards Chubby's already opened and then I see he got the same amount of birthday money that I got. He gives me a smirk and then blurts out a laugh, as I blush, muttering, "I just wanted to read the card." Chubby opens my present and reads the inscription on the second dog tag out loud: "There's no other love like the love for a brother," and he actually chokes-up before reading the other side, "And there's also no other love like the love from a brother." Tears run down my mom's eyes, then Tris' eyes as Chubby and I hug. The twins mutter, "That's beautiful, Dylan," then the twin brothers, Rick and Ron, hug, so the moms hug too. Chubby puts the necklace around his neck, mumbling, "I'm never taking this off. Thank you, Dylan," and we hug again. So, that went pretty well and it's a very cool looking chain too. It's made of black carbon fiber over stainless steel. We talk about the dog tags a bit: they want to know where and when I bought it, and how clever a gift is is for a brother, and how did I come up with the engraved sentiment, and everything except how much it costs. Why the hangup about how much stuff costs? My mom's always asking me, "You took the price tag off, right, honey," when I'm wrapping my Christmas presents each year. I wait for it and mom never disappoints. The only price tags I like to take off are when I buy something on a bargain that the receiver of the gift will think cost much more then it did. Willie's the only person I know who makes sure I'm aware how much he paid for gifts he's given me. Not that it's his money. Done our second drinks we head out for the restaurant, Chubby and me in the Jeep, the others in Rick's BMW. I'm feeling the two shots of VO and the two beers a bit, but I'm not drunk. Chubby's obviously feeling the booze a little too, which is partially why he got emotional over my present, but he feels our mutual love as much as I do, so there's that too. I drive as we talk about our vacation, hinting about our sex lives this past week with Chubby maybe embellishing a bit while I do the opposite because getting fucked every day, and multiple times on some days, might seem excessive to those with a lesser sex drive than mine. Like I always say, hey, I was born with it. As Sophocles aptly said in 442BC, 'Don't kill the messenger'. That vaguely encompasses what I'm saying. I was born like this so don't blame me, ya know? At the restaurant we amazingly get seated promptly, and there's a line waiting for tables so again I have to assume Rick or Ron came over here and tipped somebody earlier to assure special treatment. We get some nasty 'looks' from people in line when Rick leads us to the front of the line and says something to the man at the desk, who nods his head, and says, "This way please," I couldn't resist looking back at the people in line with a little smirk on my face. This must be what it's like being rich, or being a celebrity. There's no outdoor seating at this bay restaurant, but our table is a good one near a huge plate glass window looking out at the bay. Rick and Ron ask what everyone wants to drink and the birthday boy asks me what I'd like. I think for a second, then say, "A whiskey sour would be nice," so Chubby gets the same. Ron places the drink order when our server shows up, also promptly. He's a man about twenty-five with nice hair, cut short, and he's good looking except his teeth are screwed-up. They overlap so much it looks like he has two rows of teeth. Damn, his parents sure let him down by not getting his teeth straightened as a kid. Some parent really shouldn't be allowed to be parents. Anyway, Arturo, that's our waiter's name, writes the drink order on a small pad without questioning our age. Well, theoretically, neither Chubby nor I ordered the adult beverages so Arturo isn't breaking any law, I suppose. In Europe the legal drinking age is eighteen so twenty-one is an arbitrary thing to start with. America's Puritan roots of the first settlers still influence some of today's thinking. To Puritans humans are inherently evil beings, and therefore need a lot of stern laws to follow, and we've been making laws constantly in America for over four hundred years now, so there's a lot of them. Hard to keep track of them all. We all have two drinks before our appetizers arrive. Arturo took our food orders after the first drink. For my starter I ordered a shrimp cocktail with two sauces, regular cocktail sauce and remoulade sauce, which is a mayonnaise based sauce. For my main course I get the baked stuffed lobster with crab stuffing, french fries, and cole slaw. Chubby says, "Ditto," and the moms get salmon while the guys order prime rib. I guess they've had all the seafood they care for by now, them being primarily carnivores. Everyone is chatty and in a very good mood, and the booze helps with that a little. I'm staring at a redheaded kid about my age directly across from me at the next table. He glances up and sees me staring and gives me a cute grin, raising his eyebrows at the same time. His nose is sunburned and peeling a little, but that's the only slightly negative thing I can say about his cute face. His hair isn't dark red like the girl next to him, who must be his younger sister. She has too many freckles and he has none. The luck of the draw as far as that goes. He's drinking what looks like a strawberry daiquiri, and with each sip of it his face is very expressive, like he's telling me how good it is. This guy seems quite pleased we're across from each other, me too. I show him my 100 watt smile, then look away grinning. Surprisingly he doesn't jump up and come over to beg me to have sex with him. He obviously has way more will power than I do. Halfway done my second whiskey sour, and feeling the booze which allows me to be ballsier than normal, I tell the table I going to find a bathroom. I give the redhead a nod of my head baiting him to follow me. As I'm walking toward the front of the restaurant, where I think there's a men's room, I have the strongest urge to look back and see if he's following me. I don't do that though because I don't need to. The redheaded cutie grabs my arm from behind, asking, "Where ya going?" I stop and give him a grin, saying, "Nowhere, I wanted to see if you'd follow me," and he subtly gooses my ass, muttering, "Who wouldn't follow you? Lets step outside a minute." I go, "Sure," and we walk outside, and over to the parking lot behind a van. He's at least three inches taller than me, but with the same basic body type as me. I stand there grinning at him for a second, then he says, "I'm John, what's your name?" I tell him, and he asks, "You're gay, right?" I say, "As gay as May, John," and he leans in and kisses me on the lips. We stare at each other for another second and then his arms go around my neck and his lips slowly come to mine, then his tongue's is in my mouth tasting like strawberries. John moves his arms from around my neck and he now has a hand cupping the back of my head as we make-out, and his other hand goes up the left leg of my shorts. My hands are on his waist as I moan softly, "Mmmm." He begins fondling my cock and balls through my underpants. My cock gets hard as wood in thirty seconds and he breaks the kiss and pulls his hand out of my shorts. I'm sort of panting, as he says, "You're a bottom, I can tell. Watch for my signal and we'll come out here so I can give you a good quick fucking, quick but hard too," and he ruffles my hair asking, "Your legal age, right?" I nod my head swallowing hard because he had me right on the verge of cuming in my pants. He goes, "Come on, we better get back. How long ya down the shore for?" I squeak out, "Leaving tomorrow," he chuckles and squeezes the back of my neck, "I got ya all hot and bothered, huh, Dylan?" I nod my head, muttering, "Yeah, you could say that," and we're at the restaurant's front door now. John stops me and tries getting the wrinkles out my short's left pant leg that he wrinkled when he bunched it up with his arm up there. He tugs on it and smooths the material purposely rubbing over my junk a few time as he snickers, then says, "Damn, I wish you weren't going home tomorrow 'cause I would have had some fun with you." For some reason I'm standing in front of him letting him do what he wants. He puts the side of his bent forefinger under my chin lifting my head, saying, "Watch for my signal, Dylan, and come immediately. We won't have a lot of time so I won't be able to give you the foreplay you deserve, it's gonna have to be wham, bang, thank ya' ma' am. Okay? I've got a big salami for ya, I hope you can handle it." I'm just staring into his amazingly blue eyes. He nods his head slowly a couple of times, muttering, "Yeah, would I ever have had sexy fun with you. Damn! You go back to your table now, Dylan, I don't want my parents seeing us together. They're good at math and they know that two plus two equals four." I go, "Huh," and he smacks my ass hard, "Go ahead now, get moving" and I walk back in like a good submissive boy should. While walking around the corner I'm adjusting my dick, that's still firm, getting it sideways in my underpants. A few people see me doing that and snicker, but I don't know them so I don't care. Willie taught me that. Now I'm in the restaurant section where our table is located, so I take a big breath calming myself, then head for our table. As I'm walking back to the table I'm trying to figure out what happened in that quick encounter with redheaded John, and I realize I'd slipped into a mini trance because of him. So quickly too, but some guys just do it to me and I'm not sure what exactly it is about them that causes various degrees of my submissive trance to take over my brain. Probably a combination of things and one of those things is a casual air of confidence knowing they're completely in charge right from the start. He demonstrated that trait just sitting at the table mugging for me. And these certain type guys see immediately that I like a sex partner who's in charge. They just know it somehow. As I'm sitting down, Chubby's just finished one of his embellished stories that has everyone at the table laughing. No one says anything about me being gone too long, so I'm good to go as far as that's concerned. Rick asks me, "Is the rest room to the left or right around that corner, Dylan, I gotta make a pitstop myself." I say, "It's to the left of the main entrance," as Arturo brings our appetizers. Wow, the shrimp are on ice and as big as chicken legs. Chubby dips one in sauce and bites into it, then says, "Cooked perfectly, Dylan, almost a crunch when you bite them." They are delicious and the remoulade sauce is awesome as I glance over at John and see him wink at me which makes me blush, for some unknown reason. The remoulade sauce is slightly sweet, but they make it a little spicy too. Man, John's spicy hot himself. We all ordered seafood for starters and everyone's happy they did. Good start to the meal, but mostly I'm excited about redheaded John. I'm interested in John and I'm making eye contact, but he glances over at me every five minutes or so. He doesn't do it obviously so that someone would notice at either table. Ron orders two bottles of chardonnay wine for us seafood eaters, and one of merlot for the two beef eaters. Arturo pours us all a glass so now he hasbroken the law serving minors, but we probably won't turn him in. Done my second whiskey sour I try the wine and decide it's hideous, just as Tris says, "Ron, this is a wonderful wine, but it must have been expensive." Ron cornily says, "You're worth it, beautiful, all you guys are worth it." Rick looks at the chardonnay bottle, saying, "Mmmm, Shafer, 2010. This is about fifty bucks in New Hamshire liquor store, what'd they kick up the price to here?" Ron goes, "Not too bad, about double which isn't bad for a restaurant." I'm thinking, 'Our wine is a hundred dollars a bottle? What the fuck?' I take another sip, but it still sucks, huh. A nice looking African American lad buses our table and then Arturo follows with our dinners. All the plates are steaming hot just the way they should be. Redheaded John's table got served just before us so we're eating at the same time. I glance over and he nods his head at his plate. He saw my stuffed lobster being served and now I notice he has the same thing. Synchronicity, or simply coincidence? In either case the stuffed lobster rocks! With butter shining on his chin from dipping the lobster meat in a cup of melded butter, Chubby goes, "You choose good food, Dylan," and I go, "Yum, bro!" He holds up his wine glass, to say, "I want to make a toast to our hosts, Ron and Rick, awesome, awesome dinner gentlemen, you're the best! Thank you," and this sets off a round of toasts and a volley of thanks from the moms, Chubby, and me to Ron and Rick for their generosity. Ron even blushes a little. Hey, I like that. The twins are growing on me and I actually like them both, which is a first for the moms' boyfriends over the years. Most of them are blatantly patronizing to Chubby and me, but none of that from these two at all. By the time I finish dinner I've managed to drink my glass of wine and a hovering Arturo, says, "Sir," and pours me some more. Damnit! Oh well, I take a sip and decide it's okay, so I guess I'm getting used to it. This time an older man buses our table and John catches my eye nodding his head towards the lobby. This could be the ballsiest thing I've ever done, except there's no way I can go without Chubby coming with me. I hesitate as John gives me the signal again, so I'll give it a try, I say, "Um, too full for dessert, so I think I'll get a little fresh air... this wine is going to my head." Chubby says, "Me too," but both twins say, "Wait!" then Rick say, "I mean, you kinda have to stay, Jeff, we, um, have a surprise for you." I chuckle, patting Chubby's shoulder, "Enjoy the surprise, bro, heh heh." Mom goes, "Oh you," and I say, "I won't be long," then make my escape. Outside John's waiting for me. He grips behind my neck tightly and without a word leads me across the street taking long strides. He's wearing shorts, but his shorts are more like gym shorts in that they barely cover half his thighs, while mine come to my knees. His short-shorts make his legs look even longer. There's quite a bit of curly red hair on his calves, it's so pale red it's almost blond. Long legs and very big feet too, so I need to hurry keeping up with his long strides. His hand tightens uncomfortably on the back of my head giving me the sense I'm a little kid being taking to the principal's office by a teacher because I've committing some egregious mischief. I managed to mutter, "Where we going, John?" He shakes his head, then says, "What's the difference, you'd come no matter where we're going. Just do what your told and you'll be fine." My cock firms up in my pants as a trance slowly descends on my brain. It descends so slowly I can feel it tightening up little by little, as my shoulders shudder. I don't want to fight this feeling because it feels good, so dreamy and sexual. I glance over at John and he seems so in control of everything I relax and leave everything in his hands, which makes me feel a deep fondness for him all of a sudden. We stop at the same van we made-out behind earlier, John lets go of my neck, and point to the ground, saying, "Just stand right there," as he takes a key from his pocket, pushes a button and the locks on the van clicks. He opens the back door, "Get in there and take off your clothes. Quickly! Do as I say!" My cock is very hard as I scramble inside the back of the van with John getting in behind me and closing the door. We both need to bend down because the ceiling's too low for us to stand up. I have my sandals off in as flash, then my shorts and underwear. In my submissive trance I'm not embarrassed about having a hard boner that's up against my belly even though we haven't done anything yet. John's got his sandals and shirt off showing a hairy chest, but the hair is only across his pecs, not his shoulders or back. He slaps my ass hard, "Slap!" and says, "Get that t-shirt off," then "Slap, slap!" on my ass as I yelp, and pull my t-shirt over my head. He's naked now too and I see that he wasn't kidding about having a big salami. His flaccid cock is fat, and in addition to it's heft, it's the longest penis I've ever seen. He gets my face between both his hands and looks in my eyes, saying, "There's a lubed condom in the pocket of my shorts, get it and hand it to me." I stare into his bluer than blue eyes for a second and he reaches behind me and smacks my ass again, "Now, Dylan?" I bend down and quickly go through his pockets finding the condom and hand it to him. "Now suck my cock, and when I tell you to, roll the condom on my cock and get on your hands and knees. You need to be fucked doggy style, don't ya?" I shrug, not knowing what he means by that. He grips my chin, saying, "Look at me when I'm talking to you!" My eyes go to his, and he says, "I'm going to fuck you hard and fast because I can't be away from the table too long or they'll be suspicious that I'm doing what I'm doing. It'll hurt you at first, but that won't last a long time. Do you understand?" I nod my head, "Okay, get on your knees." I'm on my knees and he's leaning over me as I pick up his heavy penis with my fingers and suck on the head, wondering why he didn't comment on my shaved pubic hairs. Maybe he expected that they'd be shaved, although I can't imagine why he would. John is a guy without a particularly strong scent, at least not one that I can detect. His red pubic hairs are curly and thick, looking wiry and are more a pale pink than red. Gripping his cock in my fist near his groin, I feel his pubic hairs now and they're not as wiry as they appeared to be, but they're longer. They cover almost two inches at the base of his cock, and half my fist is buried in them. What a mouthful his cock is too! Lots of slurping sounds coming from me as I lick and suck the head of his cut cock, plus two inches of the shaft. Saliva drips off my chin with me really getting into sucking this tall kid's cock. John keeps his hand tightly at the back of my head as if he thinks I might stop sucking him off. In less then two minutes his big salami tightens up with a soft grunt coming from John, "Umm." When I taste a long string of precum, that's a mouthful I need to swallow, he says, "That's good cock sucking, Dylan. Here's the condom, roll that bad boy on." Ripping the packet open with my teeth I roll it on, and like with Adriano, the condom looks tiny on John's long boner, that's drooping under it's own weight. I get on all fours and turn around thinking I should be scared that his humongous boner is going up my ass, but I'm not. My ass has been seasoned by some pretty big cocks, maybe not that big, but I know I can take it... I'm anxious and excited to feel what it's like having it up my ass actually. He's on his knees now too and his big cock is immediately at my back door spreading the lips of my anus painfully. John reaches across my back and cups his hand over my mouth, pulling my head back, as he humps his fat cock in past my sphincter muscle and I scream at the searing pain. I screamed, but it's muffled by his hand as I slobber saliva against the palm of his hand that gets smeared around my mouth. Another hard hump pushes his cock a few more inches up my ass with the walls of my rectum stretching painfully and me screaming in a high-pitched wail. The screaming continued as he pushes his boner all the way in to areas in my rectum never explored before with me flailing around trying to move away, but his grip on my mouth prevents that as my neck is stretched backward as far as it can go. He leave his monstrous cock there and uses his free hand to spank me, "SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!" as he says, "Stop moving and get your screaming under control!" Then "SLAP! SLAP!" and the pain fades a little as my rectum makes the necessary adjustments. I stop screaming and realize tears are running down my face, and that is embarrassing because he'll feel them on the hand covering my mouth. My cock is soft and it sort of shrunk hanging down between my thighs. My balls feel like little marbles as my ass shivers and I wonder what happened to my dreamy submissive trance. The stinging on my ass from the spanking gets my attention now as John begins the long withdrawal that hurts, but not enough to scream about, just grunts of pain. He's let go of my mouth, saying, "Good boy, the worst is over and soon your screams of pain will be replaced by moans of pleasure." Reinserting his boner back up my ass it still hurts and so does the next three trips with me thinking, 'Thank God for the lubricant. Without it I'd probably pass out from the pain'. My head hangs down as my body absorbs what's left of the pain, and I glance at my wristwatch an am startled to see we've been gone only five minutes. It seems like I left the restaurant a half hour ago. Then I hear a moan of pleasure and realize it came from me, "Mmmm, ooooh," as my stuffed rectum begins to sing to me the song of sexual pleasure. I've never felt this filled up and now my head comes up as John drives his big cock smoothly up my ass. He withdraws it again, and goes, "Yeaaah, I got ya now, don't I, pretty boy? Mmmm, yeaaah," as his huge meat goes back up my ass all the way in again, and I moan a long, "Ooooooh, mmmm, ooh." When it's in tight and his pubic hairs feel a little scratchy on my buttocks, he says, "Lift up on your knees now," and I'm surprised to find I'm still in a submissive trance, mumbling, "Yes, John," and do as I'm told. He wraps his arms around me and kisses my cheek, quietly saying, "You'd be my boy if I had a week with you, would't you?" I nod my head, and he murmurs, "Would you like that, being my boy, Dylan? I'd take good care of you, you can be sure of that." His hairy chest feels good against my back. He lets go of me with one arm and reaches for his shorts to pull out a clean handkerchief, while at the same time his hips move smoothly withdrawing and thrusting his big boner up and back in my ass as my head goes back against his shoulder and another long moan escapes my throat, "Aaaaaah, ooooh, aah, aah." He keeps the piston motion going for a minute or so and I lay against him with so many zips of pleasure my head shakes and rolls side to side on his slender shoulder. He stops again when his long fat boner is fully in me, and I think again how I've never been this filled up before. John wipes the tears off my face, kisses the side of my forehead, saying, "You have the most deliciously sexy scent about you. It's fantastic," and his hips thrust his enormous cock back and forth in my ass a half dozen more time with me squirming in his arms deep into sexual pleasure like I don't think I've ever felt before. He cups under my chin holding my head back against his shoulder now, his other arm around my chest again keeping me immobile as a stab of claustrophobia circles around in my brain and I struggle in his arms. He picks up the pace of thrusting his cock and it gets me to relax again, "Easy, Dylan, you need this good fucking and you're loving it." Tell me you love it," and he pulls my head back further stretching my neck." I mutter, "I love it, John," and he mumbles, "Hell, I wouldn't need a week to totally break your will and make you my boy. Have you ever worn a dog collar, 'cause you sure as shit would wear one for me, wouldn't ya?" and another rough pull with his hand under my chin. I go, "Ugh, un, yes, John," and he relaxes his hold under my chin and starts fucking me steadily and fast. All I can do is moan embarrassingly as if I've never been fucked before. My whole body is alive with tingling sensation while my rectum is gloriously emitting many, many fantastic and amazing vibrations. My anus feels like it's vibrating and my prostate is ringing like a bell, like it's Big Ben. I'd be spastic if John wasn't holding me tightly against his chest with the hand under my chin and an arm around my chest. My cock is like a metal object sticking straight out from my groin. John's grunting now as he incessantly plows his huge organ up my rectum, the rectum he's totally conquered. I'm sensing an enormous spunk buildup in my balls and now, heavy with sperm, they move up my scrotum preparing to fire their load out my metal cannon. John's cock seems to expand inside me as he's blowing air out grunting, his cock a fat hard piston in my ass, my head shakes and I squeal like a girl with a mouse running up her leg as cum pours out of my pulsation cock in a straight line splashing off the side of the van and just missing my t-shirt. His hand comes from my chin to cover my mouth again as I hiss into his hand. Dizzy as hell with my hip humping forward shooting four more spurts of cum from my nuts. Up and out of my boner goes the creamy cum. Then I'm weak. John grunts banging his groin into me hard and pumps cum into his condom putting little humping pressure against my ass and I stupidly wish I could feel it up inside me hitting the walls of my rectum. He makes a growling noise in his throat and leans against me humping my ass and I fall forward with him on top of me. I try avoiding my cum but lay right on it, mostly on my left side from my groin up my torso to the front of my left shoulder. John humps his hips still fucking me and then he gasps, slows down and stops. He lays on me for ten seconds or so, then pulls his cock out of my ass leaving it gapingly open. For a few seconds I don't even know where I am. He gets off me, smacks my bare ass hard, "SLAP!" and says, "Quickly, get dressed," as he helps me get to a sitting position. He sees the cum streak down my body as he's pulling the condom off his massive organ. There a golf ball size round of spunk at the bottom of the condom. Expertly tying the open end, he uses his handkerchief to wipe at the cum on me, and then says again, "Get dressed quickly," and I do. Both of us scrambling around bent over in the back of the van pulling our shirts, underwear, and shirts on. Stepping into our sandal as he's opening the door, and then we jump out. It's good to be out in the air and everything appears to be as it was when we entered the van a lifetime ago. He looks at his watch and says, "Ten minutes exactly, perfect! You're awesome, Dylan, where do you live?" I tell him and he says, "Shit! That's too far, damn it!" He pulls me to him and kisses my lips, then looks at me, shaking his head, "Too bad you live so far away, you're exactly what I'm looking for." He never tells me where he lives, just holds me away from him with a hand on each of my shoulders checking me out. "You look fine, how about me?" I check him out, then nod my head, "You look just like you did when we left the restaurant." He goes, "We look the same, but we're different now aren't we? You've had the best fuck of your life and I've met you and I'll be dreaming about you for months. You're ass is so perfect, you smell so awesomely sexy, and you're the most beautiful boy I've ever laid eyes on, plus you're not a swisher. Unfortunately for both of us you're geographically undesirable, but that's absolutely the only thing undesirable about you." Then he says, "You go in first, Dylan, and thank you. That was quick, but wonderful too." I nod my head, and he smacks my ass, "Go ahead, Dylan, do what I told ya," and I do. Walking back in a fog, with my ass and cock still buzzing with excitement as if they're reliving the fuck they just experienced. I'll do that when my head clears. 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.