Author's Note: Ricky has "done his duty." Now he can pursue guys his own age. He has a "plan." Let's see how that works.

The Future Belongs to the Brave

River

That weekend, River's older cousin George came up to Sweetwater Falls. He was a great, big, bearded guy, twenty years old, but he looked much older, maybe thirty. River was staying was at "Doc Jameson's Cabin," at the edge of the other large, empty lot in the community. This was where all the young people tended to gather in the long summer evenings after dinner. The little kids had their boisterous running games while the older kids tended to hang out on the decks of the surrounding cabins.

The deck of the Jameson cabin was prime teenage hangout real estate in the evenings. Whenever anyone was looking for someone to be with rather than be alone, that deck was the first place to check. As was often the case, the cabins were owned by some patriarch or matriarch, and their children and grandchildren's families would each use the cabins for a few weeks of the summer. By long, long tradition, Doc Jameson's Place was known for hospitality. The lot in front had been written into a trust that forbade new construction. It was bequeathed "as an eternal gathering place for the community."

Ricky was not quite sure what River's relation to the original family was. He was family; that was all he needed to know. His aunt Michele, a bit of a snob, would know. She always kept track of who was who.

At any rate, Ricky had been tracking River's progress with his cousin Susie. According to Jackie, the younger sister, Susie had not put out. In fact, she told Ricky that though Susie liked River, she thought him a bit timid and inexperienced, but since River was "the cutest boy" and "he was from a rich family," she maintained the game.

Ricky smiled at this knowledge. That meant River was sexually frustrated. He could work that angle.

Maybe.

Thus it was that the first evening after Roan's sweet friend Mason had arrived, Ricky was hanging out with River on the deck. It was a low, open, redwood affair with benches all around the edges and a a couple of nice porch swings. One of the swings was in a shady, private nook to the back, a good make out spot, and the other was on the front deck. It was a large "L" shape, for when the family had enlarged it some years ago, they had built it around a giant pine that no one wished to cut down. The greater part of it extended out into the lot, and from the deck, across the gravel road, one had a fine view through the trees and brush of the loudly coursing river.

River was sitting on the swing facing the river, but far back on the deck. He was swinging his skinny legs in that boyish way he had, and propping himself up with straight arms, leaning a bit forward. He was such a pretty boy!

It was the eyes. They were huge, for one thing, but also a rich brown with long lashes. It gave him a younger appearance.

His face was neither square nor slender. It was just right. He had, Ricky noticed then, rather pretty lips. Deep reddish in color, and his nose was refined. Not a button, and not aquiline. Just right. He had wide shoulders and a narrow waist. Ricky had no doubt he was not going to be one of those boys who was cute when young but grew into an uninteresting or homely man. He was, in Ricky's opinion, "superior genetic material."

He was at a slender stage, but there was an elegance to his geometry, and River had a nice way of holding himself — never hunched over, always proud and straight-backed with his head high.

He was wearing the same faded black denim shorts he almost always wore, and he had on a scruffy old, faded red t-shirt. River did not seem to be one who much cared about clothes. He did, however have on a pair of elegant, woven sandals of a type Ricky had seen in Mexico. Hand made, and expensive. He also almost always wore an amber pendant on a leather thong around his slender neck. The effect of his casual scruffiness combined with those touches of elegance was a beautiful combination to Ricky.

Ricky paced around on the deck. He was full of energy. He could see why Susie liked him. Girls, he had figured out, were nature's talent scouts. They had strong instincts to pick quality genes. Ricky laughed at himself for thinking how River would produce pretty babies. He was such a girl himself sometimes!

"What are you laughing about, Ricky?" River asked. He had such a pleasant voice. It was the beginnings of a baritone. Striking, in that from his slender, youthful appearance, one expected a higher voice. It gave him a truly masculine edge.

"I am laughing at myself. I was thinking silly thoughts."

"Yeah? Like what?"

Part of the excellence of strong communities is that children of such villages tend to grow into adept conversationalists. Rather than watch television or play video games, they amused each other in talk and physical activity.

"I was just thinking about why Susie likes you."

River actually seemed to blush a little. "Huh? Oh! Why? What does she say?"

"Actually, she has not told me much... Uh, I mean," imitating her girlish mannerisms, Ricky said, "she goes, 'Oh! He's so cuuuute!' Like that!"

Ricky chuckled to himself as he said, "But I was thinking that girls like to pick boys who they think would make good babies and fathers, even if they are not serious; it's an instinct they have."

River laughed — a bit self-consciously. Then he looked at Ricky with a more serious expression. "Always thinking, you are. Always philosophizing."

"That is an exaggeration, River. Most times I'm not even thinking at all; I'm looking!"

River changed positions and waved a hand airily. He laughed, "Same difference, Dude!"

Ricky smiled, shrugged, and laughed lightly. He asked, changing the subject, "Have you noticed how you no longer hear the river unless you actually listen to it?"

"Yeah!" This interested River, for he hopped up and went over to the side by the road near Ricky to look at the river. "When I first came, I was like, 'How can I sleep? It's so loud!' But I just listened, and after a while, it was soothing and I fell asleep. Then I forgot about it."

"Yeah," Ricky agreed. "You know, back home, one of my buddies dad's owns a septic business. He told me that it is the same way with smells."

"Gross!"

"I know, right? But they are fucking rich! Jimmy told me that his dad figured out no one wants to do 'dirty jobs,' so if you work that angle, you can make bank!"

River laughed at that. "I'm gonna tell my dad that. He's a criminal lawyer. Did I tell you that? He will agree! You should hear some of the shit he has to clean up!"

"Superb analogy, River!" Ricky proclaimed. This made River flash him that cute grin of his. His eyes could really light up when he smiled!

Then River frowned, his rapidly shifting moods as quickly changing as his namesake. "I wish George would get back with that beer!"

They had cajoled George into heading into town to get beer. Normally, River and Ricky would have gone with him, for it was an adventure, but River had promised Susie he would meet her. So far, Susie was a no show, and George had been gone a while.

"Well, I hope he didn't get carded," Ricky worried. "He could get in trouble!"

"Naw. No one ever ID's him. And even if they do, he'll say, 'Oh, shit! I left my wallet at home! I'll be right back!' and then bail, you know?"

"Yeah. And what's up with Susie? Are you guys doin' OK?"

River made a wry expression. "Oh, I dunno. She's all hot and cold. I don't get her!"

"She's hot though, huh?"

River looked at him curiously. Cautiously he said, "Uh, well, she is your cousin, bro?"

"Yeah? So? I know a hot chick when I see one. She does work it, as I'm sure you have noticed!"

"Yeah. I've fuckin' noticed. It works on me!" River actually reached down unselfconsciously to adjust his penis.

Ricky looked down at that, overtly, and looked right back up at River, meeting his gaze. He grinned at River, who seemed a bit startled for a fleeting instant, but then he laughed, like he was thinking, Yeah, man, it's like that!

There was no doubt. Straight boys are HOT!

Ricky's heart was actually pounding over that tiny gesture. But then, hearing the tell tale crunch of gravel, he said, "I hear a car. Maybe that's George!"

"Let's check it out!" River said.

They dashed down the few steps of the deck and across the lot, running right through a children's game, causing a soprano chorus of protests, to which Ricky turned and apologized while River ran to the gap in the trees by the road.

"Oh yeah!" He exclaimed happily to Ricky, turning to "high five."

It was indeed George in his cool, old, red, Ford Ranchero. They watched him get out and heft a couple of large, paper grocery bags from the open bed behind the seat. Neither boy was going to approach him, for since he had beer, it might be a "bust." Instead, they sauntered back to the deck, carefully walking around the small children this time.

George had bought two twelve packs of Coors. He figured one twelve pack for him and one six pack each for Ricky and River "would do the trick."

River protested, "but it was our money!"

"And my car, my gas, and my guts! Besides, I'm a big guy. You guys are runts. You'll be slobbering drunk, I'll bet. And I'll just be feeling sleepy."

They really could not argue.

They had a plan for the beer. Ricky had suggested they go to a treehouse he knew, but then it turned out that his cousin Danny and his friend Brian were spending the night there, and they certainly were not going to share their beer with those pigs. So River suggested that they wait till dark and go sit on the bench at the railroad crossing. There were many, many trains that ran through the mountains at night, so they'd see lots of them. The dark, River thought, would make them less likely to get busted.

Of course, River wanted to share the beer with Susie, but Ricky told him there was no way he was playing "third wheel."

This was a new thing with Ricky. He used to just shyly tag along, happy to be included, actually thinking he was included, but lately he had been standing up for himself.

So the plan, conceived by Ricky, was to hang out with the girls, then ditch them.

Once Susie showed up, all bets were off. River, like so many pathetic teenagers his age, were easily manipulated by selfish girls. In that case, Ricky would go fishing, and to hell with the beer.

Besides, Ricky thought to himself, I'm not a cock blocker. I hope River does get some!

The beer was bought by mostly River's money anyway. Ever since the big fight between his step-dad and his mom, his mom had been pretty broke, and Ricky had not yet engineered some funds from his father's side, the Boone side, of the family. But he had, nevertheless, chipped in his last few bucks.

The fact was, Ricky wanted to get River alone, in a private place, and drunk.

George immediately cracked a can in the kitchen and chugged it down. Then, with a loud burp, he popped open another can and took it out on the deck. "You guys gonna get started?" He asked.

"We can't, George," River explained. We can't drink out here. We were thinking of putting the beer in a backpack and going to the crossing. We were gonna wait till dark!"

"Fuck that!" George exclaimed. I'm sittin' right here, puttin' a buzz on, and listenin' to the river. I'm on vacation. I ain't walkin' nowhere!"

Ricky, if George could have read his mind, would have seen him doing joyous, mental backflips. He had been able to think of no polite way to exclude George. The last problem was Susie. To River, he said, "Hey! You want me to go see what's up with Susie?"

River's eyes told him the story more than his words. "That would be cool, bro. Could you?"

Ricky found his cousin Jackie with her friend Jasmine in the girl's giant room that occupied the whole lower story of the cabin. It was the most recent construction, and built by his grandfather as a master bedroom for himself and Ricky's grandmother, but they had decided to buy another house further north instead. It was luxurious and modern, with bright, white plaster walls, unlike the rest of the cabin. In addition to a couple of bunkbeds, there was a king sized bed. This was where Jackie and Jasmine were playing "Hearts," a game they loved but which bored Ricky senseless.

"Hey girls!" Ricky said, cheerily, after walking in.

"You should have knocked!" Jackie scolded.

"Uh. Oh! Sorry! But the lights were on and I saw you through the window when I was climbing the stairs!"

Jackie, ever the private one, said, "You know better than to enter a girl's room without knocking!"

"Yes. You are right, J. I am sorry!" He sat down beside her and leaned over to kiss her cheek. This was an acceptable apology, for her face calmed.

"We are playing Hearts, would you like to play?'

"Uh, no. That's OK. Actually, I wanted to ask you if she knew where Susie was. River is looking for her. She said she would meet him at the Jameson's."

Jackie suddenly looked down, acting strange.

"Jackie? What's up?"

"You promise you won't tell?"

"Huh? What's going on, promise I won't tell what? I can't promise I won't tell if I don't know what I'm supposed to keep secret."

Jasmine answered. "She went up to town with that boy, Tom. You remember him? From last summer? He's seventeen now."

All Ricky could was, "That's fucked up."

Jackie was upset. "You can't tell we told you!"

"I won't get you in trouble, Jackie. But that was really uncool of her. I mean, if she wants to go out with another guy, that's her business. That's fine, but to lie to River?"

Jackie looked down. "I know. I'm sorry."

"Well, I hope that when you two start dating guys, you are better than that. That was fucking cruel! River is a nice guy!"

"It's not really a 'date,'" Jackie explained.

"Except they are going to get tacos and go to a movie," Jasmine said, her tone ironic.

Ricky was not actually elated. Even though this gave him the opening he wanted, he was not looking forward to hurting River's feelings.

"This is a problem," Ricky said. "You know how you girls try not to lie to each other? Well guys are the same. I can't lie to him. I can't say, when he asks, 'Gee, River! I just don't know where that dang cousin of mine went off to! Maybe she's off at doily making class with the ladies?'"

Instead of what she is actually doing — fucking some dude in the back seat of his car because he's got a car, a big dick, and some money.

Jackie agreed. "Yeah. It's a problem."

"I can't cover for her, Jackie. OK. Who else knows?"

Jackie said, "Our mom's know she left with him, but they think she's going over to her friend Zoe's house. Zoe's friend Lisa pretended to be her mom when they called."

"It just gets deeper and deeper, huh? I gotta tell him. You realize that, don't you? She'll get mad at you, but so what? You are gonna cover for her? What's it going to be?"

"She'll be furious!"

"Well, I won't tell the parents, but I will tell River. She'll be in trouble with him, but not them. How about that?"

"His feelings are going to be really hurt," Jackie said.

"Well, his feelings are already hurt for being ditched with no explanation, and I don't know what story she was planning on telling him, but whatever it is, it won't work. She should have just broke up with him. Get it over with. Don't be such a goddamned coward!"

Ricky was genuinely upset. He had started to get along with Susie. He had been hoping they could improve their relationship. She had seriously broken his trust. Certainly, he would confront her. To the girls he said, "Anyway, I will take the blame for telling. I'll let her be pissed at me instead of you. I'll tell her I tricked you into telling or I figured it out when my mom told me she went off with Tommy. Or something. OK? I'll keep you out of it. Somehow."

This was not quite perfect, but it would have to do.

"But you guys? Thanks for trusting me. You girls are cool."

Ricky returned to River, and the girls returned to their game.

River, it seemed could not resist the temptation to have a beer, for Ricky found him the small kitchen, standing front of the open refrigerator, sipping a cold can, staring into the refrigerator. He seemed distracted, for when Ricky greeted him, he looked up at him startled.

"Hey," Ricky said, ignoring River's odd look. "Let's grab those beers and head out."

"What's up with Susie?"

"I'll tell you." Ricky had decided to be straight up about it, but he would dole out the information sensitively. "Short story: She stood you up. Long story: Walk and talk?"

River sighed, "Why am I not surprised? But, yeah. Sure. Let me change into my jeans though. And I'll get my backpack."

Ricky, who was not much affected by the cool of the evenings, was wearing his khaki shorts, but he had a t-shirt on under his dress shirt. He'd be fine. River, he had noticed, got chilled easily. He was from Riverside or San Bernardino where it was warmer. Ricky could not remember which of the two Southern California towns he was from. Desert places with drag races and motocross were the images in his mind.

"Sure," Ricky said, wishing like hell he could follow River into the back bedroom to watch him change. "Where is your backpack?"

"It's on the couch in the living room, you wanna grab it?"

"Yeah."

Ricky loaded the pack with the beer, taking a couple plastic bags for the leftover cans as well. He chatted with George on the deck while he waited for River. George was pretty well into his buzz. Ricky got him talking about work, which, according to George, was full of toxic chemicals. George worked in a factory that made plastic tarps and sheeting, and he knew a lot of chemistry!

When River emerged wearing a nice, crisp pair of dark jeans, George asked, "So you guys heading to the tracks?"

"Yeah. You sure you don't want to come?"

"Nah. I was gonna get online and play a bit of Blackjack, actually. I'm good."

River's cabin was one of the few cabin's that had internet. They had strung a cable some years ago, but most people did not want internet at their vacation homes. The contracts, so his father told him, required them to pay for each month the whole year rather than just the three it was needed.

Walking down the gravel road on the way to the bridge, before crossing to the other side of the river and the tracks, River asked him, "So what the fuck is up with Susie?"

"You want it sugar-coated or you want it straight, River?"

"I want it straight," he said without hesitation. He was not looking at Ricky as he walked.

"Well, she went out with an old boyfriend of hers from last summer. They headed to town in his car. She made up some big lie about going to her friend's house."

"This guy from last summer?"

"Yeah. His name is Tom. His dad owns the feed store. He's seventeen now. He has a car."

"Fuck," was all River could say.

"I'm sorry, man," Ricky said.

"Then River was saying, "Well, she's, like, I dunno, it's, like, she's older than me. I'm, like, a kid to her. I always get that feeling."

Ricky remained silent for a while. He nodded. They walked along in silence for a ways, then Ricky offered, "It's like girls grow up faster than guys. You ever thought that?"

"Yeah. Like, when I was twelve and had a squeaky little voice and I was, like, four feet tall, the girls well all, like, with boobs and big hips, all ready already to start fucking, and I didn't know shit."

"Yeah. I know man," Ricky said as they neared the bend before the bridge. "When I was fourteen, I still had, like, a two inch dick, and I looked like I was, like, twelve or something!"

Ricky suddenly noticed he was imitating River's speech patterns. River had a Southern California accent. He had also exaggerated about his little dick. He had always been at least above average in the dick department, but he had not sprouted any pubic or armpit hair until he was fourteen.

River chuckled and glanced at Ricky shyly. He asked, "So what do we do? You know? I mean, I am not turned on by skinny little baby girls with flat chests!"

Ricky laughed, "We make for in boldness what we lack in chest hair! Chicks dig strong dudes... strong as in 'bold' and 'confident!' Like, I know, Susie really liked your sense of humor! You tell funny jokes! And... Hey! Let's drop in to the falls! If there's no one there, I could finally have one o' them beers!"

"The Falls" were one of the most beautiful places on the river and where the community earned its name. It was in a shadowy, tree lined nook. The falls were about twenty feet tall. And the water was truly delicious. Above was the high road across the falls, and the falls were, of course, fed by the tiny stream up which Roan and Ricky had first trysted. It was always cool at the falls, and it was always loud and misty. After a time, one became damp, then wet, then chilled to the core. People would come and stand on the old wooden bridge for a while, then soon leave.

The two young men found themselves alone this time. They placed their rumps on the railing of the little bridge with their backs to the river and looked up at the dark, moss covered rocks with the crashing waters. Ricky, carrying the backpack, had dropped it at their feet after fishing out a couple of beers.

He handed one to River, who, cracking it open said with that wry expression he made, "I wish he got Bud instead of Coors."

They had had to speak loudly over the roar of the falls. Ricky had no opinion on the subject of beer brands. He shrugged his shoulders. "We got beer, man. At least there's that."

As Ricky settled beside him, he placed himself in such a way that his strong, right shoulder was slightly touching the other's smaller, lean shoulder. River did not instantly scoot away, but when he hoisted his can of beer to sip, he did manage to add a tiny distance between them, saying, "True that, Bro."

They sipped their beers in silence then.

Ricky pondered yet again how to bring up his sexuality with River. He had decided he was going to come out to him. That much he knew.

It was, he reasoned, a "can't lose" decision. River would either be cool about or he would not. He doubted the latter. River was a cool dude. Ricky had never heard him use "fag" or "queer" or "gay" as derogatory terms. He did not seem homophobic. He figured he would be cool, and he would understand that he was not to "out" him. That much he was fairly certain. So that would be a "win," for their friendship would go to a more honest place.

But still, Ricky was nervous. One can never be certain of another's reactions. But all life is a risk, yet, as good ol' Ronnie Reagan's great speechwriter, Peggy Noonan, said, after the Challenger shuttle disaster, "The future doesn't belong to the fainthearted; it belongs to the brave."

Ricky had a poster in his room at home with a photo of the Challenger sitting on her pad and those words. For a high school English paper, he had researched who actually wrote that, knowing even then that a pea-brained actor like Reagan could not have thought to say that on his own.

He had considered the possibility the River might get a bit weird, but he figured he could handle him on that. He would "school" him.

He had not thought much further out than that. Ricky never did. He was always a man of action in the final analysis.

One bright interlude came when River announced, "Man, I gotta piss!"

He immediately turned around and unzipped his fly to do so. Ricky joined him in that game. A quick glance revealed that River was circumcised and was pretty much a normal sized guy. River did not pay attention to Ricky. But it was a bit of a bonding moment.

A little later, after once more looking at all the names scratched into the paint of the old bridge, sitting on the rickety old bench by the train tracks at the crossing they had their next beers. The "bench" was actually made from the repurposed steps of some cabin somewhere. The warped planks had once been white, but they were mainly bare wood then. To their left, the road into Sweetwater Falls crossed the tracks, and the river was far behind them. It was an area where the valley was flat and open. To the south, towards greater California, was the old apple orchard where Ricky and Joshua had gathered fruit. To the north was Oregon, and between that loomed the great mountain — a not quite extinct volcano.

The tracks were twenty feet away. From that distance, the roar, clatter, and creaks of the trains were tremendous. It was a thrilling sonic experience.

Ricky was on his second beer, and River was on his third. He was already acting a bit drunk, hiccuping as he suggested, "Hey dude, shoot that fucker down, huh? Let's catch up!"

"I kinda have a hard time drinking beer fast," Ricky confessed.

"Aw, don't be a pussy! Down it, bitch!"

Ricky was not going to take that! Looking at River as he did so, he chugged the whole beer in a single, drawn out series of gulps. He dribbled a bit on his chin, and looking at River with burning eyes, burped loudly.

River laughed. "Your eyes are watering, Ricky!"

"Ya think?" He said, standing up and leaning forward with his knees on his hands.

This made River laugh some more.

The truly uncomfortable aspect of quickly downing a whole beer passed in a half a minute, though it seemed like longer. "OK!" Ricky announced, "Hand me another!"

They had set the backpack down on the ground on the far side of the bench out of view of any passing cars crossing the tracks. Rather than toss the cans like a couple of trashy hicks, Ricky insisted that they crush the cans and put them in the double plastic bag. He had thoughtfully considered that the crushed cans might drip and stink up River's pack, and that would have been a "bust." River thought all that was a good idea.

They talked about silly things for a while, like how it used to be fun to put pennies and nails on the tracks and how one always got scratched up picking the blackberries that grew along them, and how it really was hard to tell that a train was coming by putting an ear on the tracks like they did in movies, but as was always the case among adolescents, the topic of girls and sex would return.

River, Ricky figured, had had enough time to process the blow to his ego with regard to Susie, so he brought her up again. "Hey, Dude, can I ask you? Did Susie, ever, you know, like, put out?"

"She sucked my dick," River said matter-of-factly.

"So she's not a complete tease," Ricky said, adding, "Jackie said that Susie actually bragged how she liked to get guys all hot and then, 'kick them to the curb.'"

River snorted, looking dark. "Oh, she got me hot all right, but back behind that big green cabin next yours, on the porch swing? We were making out, and she just got her hand in my pants and she was working it, ya' know? But she wouldn't let me touch her pussy. She kept moving my hand away. And she doesn't seem to like her boobs touched much, but then she whipped it out and blew me!"

River grinned at that, looking at Ricky happily. "I wasn't gonna say anything. I mean, she's your cousin!"

Ricky was thrilled with this new information. All he said was, "Well, she's not my sister, and she and I used to get along well, but lately she's changed. I keep trying to mend it, and, actually, I'm pretty disappointed with her right now."

"Me too, man. Me too."

"You ever fucked a girl?" Ricky asked.

"Only one, and it was only one time at this party by the lake outside of town. She pretty much raped me! How about you?"

Ricky told the truth. "No. My last girlfriend and I made out a lot, but we never fucked. I never even got a good feel, but she did put her hand on my pants a couple times."

"Hm," River grunted, "I was kinda wondering if you were even interested in girls."

There it was.

Ricky had been looking for an opening; it was River who gave the opening to him!

A few weeks earlier, Ricky would have given River some vague, diffident response, but Ricky had changed. Boldly, he stepped into the breach.

He looked calmly at River, who was eyeing him cooly, sidelong, sipping his beer, and said to him, "Actually, River, I'm not much interested in girls."

Ricky got a tremendous feeling of satisfaction from simply saying it outright.

To River's startled, big eyed, look, he serenely added, "And that's not all, for I think you are a splendidly beautiful guy."

He moved a bit apart from River then, leaning away and twisting his upper body so that he could face him squarely and look at him placidly.

River's gesture was pretty funny. He slammed down his beer and held up two hands, making a cross with his index fingers, "Too Much Information!"

Ricky surmised that the crossed fingers symbolized a "T."

He frowned and stood up facing him with his hands on his hips. "No. That was not too much information. If I had not said it, it would hang there, and if you are cool with me being gay, well, you better also be cool with the fact that I think you are hot as fuck. So. No. Not 'TMI.'"

River just cocked his head, looking at him curiously. Ricky remained silent, staring him down. Then River appeared to recover his poise, for he said, "So I was right to wonder. I did see the way you looked at me."

"You were right. Yes."

"And when we were pissing over the bridge back there, you were checking out my dick."

Ricky smiled, "You have a nice dick. It's bigger than I thought, actually."

"Oh, fuck you, Ricky! You better not be trying anything on me!"

He said it cheerfully enough, but the words stung. Ricky had steeled himself for this possible response. He scolded River, "I hate it when guys say that. I like you, River. If I did not think you would be cool, I would not have told you."

Of course, Ricky had not yet heard a guy say that to him. In that, he was pretending to have more experience than he did, but he was not letting River off the hook, but in that exchange, Ricky had acted on his epiphany. River would be cool, and that was that; or, River would not be cool, and Ricky would just dump him as a friend.

River just looked away. He took a chug of beer.

Ricky turned his back and looked down the tracks. The ball is in the air, Brother. What is it going to be?

Behind him, River sighed. "I'm cool, man. It's better, actually. I'm glad you told me. I was wondering, and now I know. Anyhow, my best friend back in 'Dino? His older brother is gay. I'm OK with it. OK?"

Ricky turned to look at him then. River wanted, Ricky guessed, to change the subject, but Ricky was not quite ready to drop it; nevertheless, he said, "OK!"

He sat down on the bench again and picked up his beer. He was starting to feel the beer buzz come on. He swigged his beer in silence. The tension was still there.

River asked, "You ready for another beer?"

"Yeah."

After a while of strained silence, Ricky said, "I hope you know you can't "out" me. I mean, you could, but I hope you won't. I trusted you. You know what I mean?"

"Yeah. I know what you mean." River's voice was flat and non-committal. He had not really agreed to this yet.

"Only my mom knows. And you. Not Susie or Jackie. Not my brother and my sisters. I decided to trust you. I just couldn't stand being your friend and not telling you. OK?"

"I get it... Uh, actually? OK! Yeah. I won't 'out' you."

That is better!

It was then that the first train came thundering by. It was a fairly short one. Ricky could see the engineer with his arm in the window. He waved, and the engineer waved back. Some things one never grows out of!

Full dark then, and on their fourth beers, Ricky took the new opening River had given him and worked it. He looked over at River and sighed, "I was just sick of feeling all this tension around you. You are just so gorgeous. Your pretty eyes, the way your belly muscles ripple. The way you laugh, your long legs. Agh! You have been making me crazy!"

River laughed loudly then. Ricky could sense that River genuinely enjoyed the compliments. His friend then said, "You really are gay, aren't you?"

"What can I say, River?" Ricky said theatrically, spreading his arms. "I like guys! I like to kiss them! I like to hug them! I like dick! I like to suck dick, and I even like to get my ass fucked!

"Sometimes, that is!"

Ricky laughed, happy to say some really gay stuff to River.

River chuckled. He said, "OK, bro, that was really TMI!"

"Was it? I mean, if you said, 'I like girls! I like tits! I like to eat pussy, and I like to fuck pussy, and even had this one girl let me fuck her ass!' Would that be 'TMI?' No! That's just guy talk! So what's the difference? Besides, it's not like I'm gonna keep talking that way with you. I just wanted you to know that I know I'm queer, and I've been around. I'm kind of a slut, actually. A particular slut, but I definitely put out!"

"Now you are cracking me up! OK, man! You are a fag. You like dick. I get it. Fine! You'd probably suck my dick if I let you, wouldn't you?"

And there it was again — another opening!

Once more into the breach, Dear Friends, once more!

There was no strained silence. Ricky rushed right in with, "Oh, I totally would! And the great thing is? You wouldn't even have to call me the next day. I'm not some prissy bitch who would think she did you the HUGE, TITANIC FAVOR and now you owe her your whole fucking life for all eternity!"

He had River laughing then. He seemed to be enjoying having a gay friend. There was a new, humorous, lightness to their friendship.

Of course, Ricky had quite adroitly dropped a huge hint.

Taking advantage of the momentum, Ricky asked, "So Susie, when she blew you, was it good? Did she swallow?"

They were both a little drunk then.

"Actually, it was kinda, uh, I dunno? Awkward? It was a weird position. We were sitting side by side, and she leaned over, and the angle was bad, and her hair kept falling in the way, and she didn't take it in very far. Her mouth was a little dry, and she kept, like, nipping it with her teeth, and the way she jacked me of, I was, like, 'No, not like that!' But I didn't say that, and the fact is, I didn't even come. She just stopped all of a sudden, and I said, 'Let's do this somewhere else where we are more comfortable.'"

"But there was no 'somewhere else.' There was no 'later.' I thought that, maybe tonight? You know?"

Ricky shook his head. "That sounds like a fucking pathetic blow job!"

River grinned. "Now I bet you are all wanting to tell me how you can give a much better blow job than that!"

"I was thinking of saying that, yes, River. Because I can! But I do not want to make you feel uncomfortable. I know you are straight. You know how I know?"

"How?"

"Because you never once said, 'I'm not gay!' Only super straight guys are that confident. In my experience, when a guy has to go on and on about how he is straight, he's not sure of his own sexuality. I mean, shit, I would know!"

This was also Ryan's experience as relayed to Ricky. Ryan had told him that, and he believed him because he used to be that guy! Ryan suggested that when a guys started protesting about how 'not gay' he was, that Ricky seek other game. Such dudes were too fucked up.

River just laughed at that. He held up his hand to high-five. "That was a cool thing to say, bro. So I gotta ask, like how many dudes you done stuff with?"

"Not as many as I would like, River, but enough to know I know I'm good at head. I can suck the chrome right of a trailer hitch, and I swallow! So hey, you want a blow job?"

It just came out.

The 'trailer hitch' part was a line that Ryan said. It came from some movie he had seen. Ricky was pleased with the casual way he said it.

He did not think the line would work, but it did.

"Sure," River said.

Yippee-yi-YAY!

River had that look that guys get when they are feeling a little bossy. It was an incredible turn-on for Ricky. He felt his cock start to harden.

He took charge.

He had thought about how to suck a cock on that bench.

Without a word, not one word, he moved around to the side away from the road where River was sitting. After quickly moving the backpack to the side, he picked up River's legs and swung him around to face him. River seemed to understand what Ricky was after, for he helped rather than resisted or complained. He hopped off the bench and leaned back against the end, with his hands behind him on the bench. He stared at Ricky like he would a girl he intended to fuck.

Ricky moved right up next to River's slim body and leaned into him as he reached down and undid his belt buckle. He placed his head in the nook of River's neck and shoulders, smelling him and expelling the hot breath from his nostrils into the crook of his neck.

He was all man. He smelled like his name. He smelled a little sweaty. Ricky brushed his lips against the leather thong of River's necklace. At that last, River reached up and pushed him back.

He was not rude. It was just the way it was.

Ricky sighed and laughed lightly. He had had to try.

His belt buckle undone, Ricky undid the button at the top of River's fly and unzipped River's heavy, denim jeans. He managed to keep one of his thighs against River while he did this, pinning the pretty stud back and maintaining as much physical contact as he could manage.

Before he slid his hand into the open fly, Ricky slightly pulled up River's shirt and ran the flat of his hand across River's hard lower belly. His fingers strayed down behind the waistband of his boxers. Then he snapped the waistband gently with his thumb and forefinger before rolling his torso across River's, pressing his gens against River's and then standing a bit apart before River had a chance to protest that the contact was "too gay."

As he reached in between the jeans and the underwear to finally get his hand on that divine man meat, he looked up at River, who was looking right back at him with a deadly serious gaze. River had a heavy semi, from the feel so far, it was fairly thick but not a long one.

Ricky was beginning to see that his own penis was unusual in geometry in that while not skinny in any pure comparison, it was much longer in ratio, making it look slender.

River was shaping up as having a normal, man-sized cock. Just big enough to feel like you really had a cock in your hands, but no monster you couldn't swallow.

Ricky really was not particular about size. He was, however, looking forward to getting a good look. Size was one thing, but aesthetics were another. He was teasing River, drawing it out, making these sweet moments last, using the inside of the fingers of his right hand to gently slide up and down River's cock, feeling it lengthen and thicken while his left hand reached behind his back to feel the fine soft hairs that grew above the cleft of River's buttocks.

River did not object to this gentle style. He took a deep breath and sighed, his eyes closed.

He was into it.

His cock was at three-quarter mast then, and growing, when Ricky slid down his jeans, taking the boxers down only partway, revealing his nice bush of youthful pubic hair. Ricky was leaning into him again, his nose near River's ear. He kept, despite his concentration on turning River on, an eye out on the road behind them. People liked to walk down to the tracks in the evening. They could come up suddenly. Cars were not a problem. From either direction, the lights would give them ample warning.

He teased River's pubic hair. He had more than Ricky had thought. It was an exquisite combination, his smooth, unshaven, boyish face combined with such manly attributes down below. This was Ricky's "type." He knew it then. He had a physical type, and River was one of "the kind."

His hands then sought out a more sensual engagement with the objects of his desire. River's balls were not as big as his own, but they were hefty enough, and River's cock was then pleasantly thick and hard. It was laying up and a bit to the side, still hidden by the boxers while his jeans were at the top of River's thighs.

It was time.

Ricky knelt down, wishing he had thought to wear jeans or lay something on the ground, for his bare knees were in the sharp-edged gravel, but he was not going to stop. His cock was so hard, it was aching. He needed to flip it up. But he was not going to even take a moment to fix that. All his attention was on turning River on.

He pulled down the waistband of River's boxers and was rewarded by a hard slap in the nose by the other boy's extremely hard dick. Cut. Thick. Not long, but with a nicely tapered head. It stuck straight out and had an interesting upward curve to it. Ricky was beginning to understand that penises were as individual as faces. Each, utterly unique. Some pretty, some ugly. River had a pretty penis.

Rather than suck it down that instant, Ricky did what he usually liked to do; he licked all around the base and used his lips to nibble the hair at the top. He just loved the sweaty, salty, musky taste there. River was just sweaty and smelly enough to give Ricky a bit of a nasty feeling from the slight trace of ammonia, a hint, just a hint, of a pissy, urine smell. Yes, River was just a teeny bit skanky down there. Ricky loved it. It was a sultry and secret change from the younger boy he had played with, and sweet as his little lover boy was, this was his thing.

Ricky reached up and held River's bony hips as he wetly swirled his way around his cock, up the shaft, around the big head, drenched in spit before he looked up at River, who was then looking down at him with burning eyes, still silent, not a word between them.

The eyes. They had their own conversation.

River: What a fag you are!

Ricky: Don't you know it?

Still looking up at him, he swallowed River's cock full length in one swoop, tickling the back of his throat and almost gagging!

He recovered quickly, but then, inspired, he made really slutty, girly noises, whimpering and gurgling, a dick-crazed, cock sucking whore boy who couldn't get enough!

Still holding onto River's hips, he encouraged him to fuck him in the mouth, and River, getting the hint, grabbed Ricky's head and did exactly that, making Ricky gag again several times, but also giving Ricky the chance to pull down his boxers completely. River's balls slapped against Ricky's chin as he face fucked him.

He reached back to take River's ass in his hands, happy to finally be able to do that; then, squeezing one cheek hard with one hand, he used the other to pull on River's lovely balls. They had a nice, downy feel.

Then, gagging again, and still moaning like a girl, Ricky understood why River's cock kept tickling the back of his throat and making him retch a bit. It was the shape. That upward curve.

Spit dripping down his chin, literally, dripping, he pulled off and panted, "I need to catch my breath! Hey! Do it this way!"

He stood up quickly then and brushed River to the side, hopped on the bench, lay on his back with his head hanging down in the back, and feverishly commanded, "Fuck me in the mouth! Balls deep!"

River, his eyes wild with lust, did exactly that. This time, instead of his balls slapping his chin, they banged his nose and eyes, and Ricky, loving it, reached up and back to grab River's strong butt and encouraged him even more. With his fingers he parted River's butt cheeks just as River's balls rode up high and hard while his cock grew even stiffer.

He ground his hips into Ricky's face as he shot his load straight down Ricky's throat, filling his belly with teenage spunk, and then, with a few more shuddering thrusts, he added a bit more.

He pulled out with a low groan while Ricky gasped for breath.

Ricky sat up and wiped his mouth with the back of his arm noting that he hardly even tasted any come, so deep in his throat River had been when he came. Looking over at River, who was quickly pulling up his underwear and pants, he saw him shaking and shuddering. Ricky knew when a guy had had an intense orgasm. River had just had one. He looked at Ricky a little fearfully. It was just an instant, but there was no mistaking the look of shock and awe.

Ricky smiled sweetly, finally adjusting his penis to a more comfortable position. "Hand me a beer, will you? River?"

River picked up the backpack, set it on the bench, and fished in it for the beers.

Quietly, Ricky asked him, "You're not going to get all weird on me, now, are you?"

"Huh?" he said, looking up, his eyes still a bit wild, but then, just as quickly as a river, like his name, his mood changed. He was calm again. "Oh... No, man. That was, uh..."

"Fucking great? A great blowjob?"

"Yeah Ricky that was a great blowjob."

Ricky held up his can to toast the occasion. River got the hint. They clinked cans.

"Cheers, River. It was good for me too."

River looked at him oddly then, opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but then seemed to change his mind. Ricky had to shift positions to again adjust his still ragingly stiff cock. He had an idea of what River might be thinking, and he was about to try to field that when they saw the lights of a car driving down the road parallel the tracks in the far distance, coming off the freeway exit.

They watched the lights in silence, and when the car approached, a big, old sedan, Ricky saw through the open driver's window that it was Tom driving. He recognized his softly curled brownish gold hair and his cool, dispassionate face. He had always struck Ricky as a spoiled rich boy, arrogant and full of himself, though quite beautiful. He could not quite make out the passenger, but by the silhouette, it was Susie. Tom glanced at them in that disinterested way of his, and the passenger seemed to suddenly cringe and duck down.

River commented, "Fucking bitch."

Ricky, fighting his own mean streak, did not wish to encourage River's anger. In his mind, Susie was already defeated, yet her shame had merely begun. He changed the topic. "You were wondering, River? What I get out of it, like, am I expecting a favor in return?"

"Uh, no! Well, yeah. Sort of. I mean, you know!"

"I'm cool, dude. I'll, like, jack off later, thinking about your fat cock in my mouth."

River laughed then and made that funny "T" sign with his fingers in front of his face.

"Yeah," Ricky agreed. "That was TMI!"

They had a good laugh then. It was fine. It was cool. Everything would be fine. They both gave each other what they needed.

Ricky had been right about him. He was a cool dude.

As they drank their last beers together, totally blazed, Ricky laughed suddenly.

"What?" River asked.

"I got an idea about how to deal with Susie. You wanna hear it?"

"Totally."

"Well, first, when you see her tomorrow, don't act all butthurt."

"I'm not butthurt!"

"Yeah you are. Kinda. She hurt your feelings. Admit it!"

"Yeah. OK."

Satisfied that River was being honest with himself, he continued, "Anyway, don't act all butthurt. Just tell her, 'You know, if you don't want to hang out with me, that's cool. You are free to do whatever you want, but just ditching me? That was a shitty thing to do!' Right?

"And then? You gotta get this part in! It's important! You tell her, 'Anyway, lots of girls like me, I sure don't need a bitch like you!'"

River laughed at that, but he said, "I'm not so sure I am down with calling her a 'bitch.'"

"Yeah. You could be right about that, but the thing is, you need to let her know that you know that you are the prize! Not her! Be a fucking badass, confident dude because you are fucking awesome!"

"Yeah!" River shouted. "I can catch that wave!"

They "high-fived" so hard it stung.

"Also," Ricky added, "since we saw them drive by, you don't have to tell her you know she went out with another guy. You can hold that back, and then if she lies, just say, 'Oh, don't make up stories. You're just digging your own grave.' Let her be in mystery about how much you know. Let her suffer."

River chuckled darkly. He said, quietly, "Did anyone ever tell you that you have a mean streak?"

"Yes, River. I have heard that."

Then, philosophic, River mused, "Funny, but here I am getting girl advice from a gay guy. Who'da thought, huh?"

Ricky just burped loudly. They both laughed.

They watched the next train then, this time a really long one.

Both of them, from only six beers, were really quite drunk as they stumbled home. Ricky was not so drunk that he did not notice that when he ambled into River, River did not shy away. Occasionally he would even bump back against Ricky. It would probably go no further than that, but River was relaxed. He was not all weirded out.

They parted by the Boone cabin. Ricky went to his gazebo and River went to his cabin. Contrary to what he had said to River, he did not beat off. He was too drunk. After brushing his teeth and having a long, luxurious, woozy piss, he simply crawled into his quilts and drifted off to a deep and dreamless sleep.