by
JohnFoxe
JohnFoxe@protonmail.com
Part 1 of 2
Copperhill, Tennessee, 1958
"Twenty-one-fifty to headquarters," Chief Dan Mathews growls into his radio microphone as he leans against the door of his black and white patrol car.
"Headquarters by," a crackly voice responds.
Highway Patrol was his daddy's favorite TV show, so of course it was Jacob's favorite show too. In the end, the police always outsmarted the bad guys.
On a hot summer night he sat on his daddy's lap, as he always did when they watched TV together.
When Jacob was seven he called the show, "Highway Control."
"Jacob, it's Patrol," his mama corrected him. "Highway Patrol."
"Highway Puh-trol," he repeated back.
But he turned eight just the week before. Eight year-olds understood more and remembered more.
Eight was too old to sit on his mama's lap. She didn't like it, especially on hot summer nights, and even less so if he was wearing just underpants. Apparently, boys were hot and sweaty, fidgety, and always played with their little 'things.'
His daddy didn't mind about underpants though.
He wasn't home most of the time, his daddy, except on the weekends, because of his work. Jacob knew it was also because his mama and daddy didn't like each other very much, even though no one ever said that out loud.
TV World
Timmy Martin, from the Lassie show, called his mother "Mom" and his father "Dad." Timmy seemed so grown up for his age. Jacob wished he could be more like that — more grown up around his daddy.
People in cowboy movies said Maw and Paw. In one movie Jacob remembered, the teenager called his father "Pops." But that was in TV world. Most people here in the real world said Mama and Daddy. Even grown men called their fathers "Daddy."
Lately though, Jacob wanted to be more like Timmy Martin, so he started calling his daddy "dad" — well, when he remembered, anyway. Habits were hard to break.
His daddy didn't mind being called dad, even though his mama rolled her eyes or made that tongue-snick noise. His friend Dougie also had started to copy Timmy.
Jacob knew TV was rubbing off on him and the other kids at school, but Timmy Martin and his family were good people so no one really complained.
Another thing about people on TV: most of them spoke like Yankees. A Yankee was a person who lived in the north. Jacob wasn't sure why they were called Yankees but thought it probably had something to do with baseball.
Jacob Jules McEvoy
That was his full name. His dad had a few pet names for him. His favorite was "JJ," short for Jacob Jules. Sometimes though, his dad called him "Mac" or "Mac-boy" and Jacob answered him in return with, "Mr. Mac."
His dad had explained... back in the olden days, Mac (or Mc) meant "son of," and Evoy meant "yellow-haired lad." Him and his dad were both blonds — Jacob truly was the son of a yellow-haired lad.
His daddy and mama were Ben and Carolyn McEvoy. They were younger than the parents of his friends. Also, most of his friends and classmates had brothers and sisters. Jacob didn't. If not for his friend Dougie, he didn't know what he would have done with himself during the week when his dad wasn't there.
Ever since he could remember, he'd only seen him on the weekends. Sometimes it was more, but mostly, he was only home on Sundays.
Today was special though. He came home late Friday night, so Jacob got to spend all day Saturday with him, plus he would see him all day Sunday — two whole days instead of just one.
Family Business
Jacob's dad and Uncle Rob ran their own construction company, a business passed down to them from their own father, Jacob's grandpa. That's why they made good money. Jacob's grandpa died from new-monia. He didn't remember his grandpa because Jacob was just a baby then. Anyway, his dad and Uncle Rob took over the family business. Most of their jobs were for the state. Jacob didn't know what that meant exactly but it sounded important.
His dad lived in construction trailers and motel rooms most of the time, far from home. He said most of the motels came with a TV, thankfully. So while he was watching TV in his motel room, Jacob was watching the same thing at home at the very same time.
Highway Patrol was on different nights, though. Sometimes Mondays, sometimes Saturdays, and sometimes both. You could never be sure. It wasn't a CBS show, like Lassie, and it wasn't an ABC or NBC show. It was something else. "ZIV," the opening credits read — same with the Cisco Kid reruns, and a new ZIV show called Sea Hunt.
Jacob missed out on some popular shows, like Superman, and another new one called The Rifleman because his mama watched her favorite grown-up shows, like The Frank Sinatra Show or How to Marry a Millionaire (which was a stupid movie and now was a stupid TV show, according to him and every other kid on planet Earth).
But even if he and his dad missed their number-one favorite show, Highway Patrol, they at least got to watch Lassie together because Lassie was always on Sundays, at the same time every week, without fail.
Don't Mess With Ben McEvoy
"I wish my folks were as nice as Timmy's," kids at school scoffed about the Lassie show, even though everyone loved it. Jacob's friend Dougie complained, "Nobody's folks are that nice."
"Mine are!" Jacob answered him proudly. "Well, my daddy is, anyway." He corrected himself. "I mean, my dad is."
But make no mistake... Ben McEvoy could be mean, when he had to — not to his family, but to people who dared mess with him, like the mechanic who stole some tools from his truck. Ben McEvoy scared the crap out of that guy. Jacob had watched from inside the truck. It was loud and shocking. The man was almost crying by the time they left, with the tools returned. As scary as the whole thing was, Jacob knew his dad would never be mean to him, not even if he'd done something bad.
Mrs. Martin vs Mrs. McEvoy
His ma was nothing like Mrs. Martin. True, his ma didn't holler all the time, like Dougie's mama did, but still, Jacob's ma was mean sometimes, like when she called him "Blondie," She teased him because he was a towhead — his hair was almost white in the summer, and it was now buzzed short like his dad's. "Son of the yellow-haired lad" was a fun little thing he felt proud of — a neato-cool thing. Blondie was not neat, cool, or peachy-keen. Blondie was Blondie Bumstead and her sandwich-eating husband Dagwood from the comic strip in the newspaper.
"She's a girl!" he complained to his ma. Besides, she had blond curls hanging here and there from her head. Jacob didn't.
Timmy Martin had sort-of-blond hair, but Timmy's ma didn't call him "Blondie."
Jacob knew his ma was just teasing when she called him that. Still, it felt mean.
She talked mean about his dad sometimes too, when she didn't know Jacob could hear.
And once, when his grandma was visiting, his mama was drinking wine and she didn't know Jacob was in the next room, near the door. "The only reason we got Jacob is because I got Ben drunk," she whispered loudly to her mama, giggling, "same reason you and daddy had to get married." His grandma make a squirmy noise, sounding embarrassed and shushing her daughter. Jacob didn't know what any of that meant, but it didn't sound very nice.
Underpants
For a long time, he didn't know why his mama complained about him wearing underpants around the house. She also complained, "Stop touching your thing!"
He remembered then, quite a while back, hearing his mama and daddy in the kitchen, and she was not even trying to argue quietly. "I wish you'd talk to him," She complained. "He's always walking around with a hard thing in his underpants... always playing with it. It's embarrassing!"
He hadn't given it much thought back then, but yes, he did touch his thing sometimes, without realizing it. He pushed and moved his wiener around quite often, inside his underpants, poking and prodding the little lump until it became a bigger lump, and then it became a stick, making a little tent in his underpants.
Did his daddy do that too? Come to think of it, yes, he did, adjusting his lump through his pants. Sometimes the lump was long and pressed against the inside of his leg.
So many things he'd never paid attention to... until this year. His conclusion was: 'Yes, Daddy's wiener gets stiff too, just like mine,' and this fascinated him.
Mabel... Black Label
Still watching Highway Patrol, he leaned back against his dad's warm bare chest, smelling Black Label beer every time he breathed.
Mabel... Black Label! The commercial sang in his head whenever he saw the brown bottle. His dad always drank a bottle or two on Sunday evening. Jacob didn't mind. He had grown to like the smell of beer.
A few times, when his ma wasn't home, he asked his dad if he could have a sip.
"Okay, but just one little swallow."
He tilted up the bottle to his lips and took a small drink, as he'd promised. He tried not to make a sour-face, but still did, against his will. Yeah, it tasted funny, but he liked the way it made his throat warm even though the beer was cold.
"But don't tell your mama," he added in a hushed voice, even though she wasn't home. His dad didn't need to remind him. He always kept their secrets.
Did beer taste good, honestly? — 'Yes!' he told himself. But that wasn't exactly right. It tasted good on the front part of his tongue, but not so good on the back part. It was his dad's beer and that was the reason he liked it. His dad gave it to him and trusted him and they shared a secret thing between them. That was the real reason.
"You two!" his mama complained once, "Your daddy got his hair cut short, so you threw a fit until you got yours buzzed off too! He wore his baseball cap cuttin' the grass, so you had to go runnin' through the house, lookin' for your cap."
She went on. "He takes his shirt off so you take yours off too... Lord, it's funny to watch you two!"
But she didn't say it like it was funny. She didn't say it in the 'you're my silly sweetheart' way — but in a mocking way.
Like calling him "Blondie," she was only poking at him again... just teasing for fun. Still, it didn't feel fun. It felt like she was mad because he looked like his daddy instead of her.
His mama was home this time. So, of course, he would not be asking for a sip of his dad's beer.
She sat on the couch, half-watching the TV and half-concentrating on the newspaper crossword puzzle on her lap.
Again, his daddy's breath — a warm breeze flowing around Jacob's head —
Mabel... Black Label!
Hardworking Men
His mind wandered again, away from Highway Patrol, thinking about earlier that day when they had cut the backyard grass and dragged old tree branches into a pile. They were shirtless and wearing gloves, like workmen. He said they could get a lot done because he was home for two days instead of just one.
And they did get lots done!
Later, the two hardworking men sat down on the back porch steps for a rest, looking over what they'd accomplished.
Out of nowhere, Jacob felt something on his head. He started to slap it away but then he saw green blades of grass raining down. Then he realized, his dad had sneaked a big bunch of grass clippings and let it loose above his head.
"Daddy!" he squealed. "You..." Jacob shook his fist, jumped up and hurried over to the basket of grass clipping, grabbed big handfuls and rushed back to the porch steps. The man quickly covered his head with his arms. Jacob dropped big wads of grass onto his head.
"Okay, okay... I give!... Uncle!" he laughed.
Jacob sat back down next to him on the porch step, calming down. Finally, he rested his head against the man's arm.
His dad never complained when the Jacob hung all over him. He looked for excuses to touch him, rub against him and hold his arm.
After a minute, the man gave Jacob's belly a little tickle and said, "Your hair is turnin' so white, I might have to start wearin' sunglasses."
Jacob laughed. His teasing wasn't mocking and mean, like when his mama teased him. Still, he asked, "Towheads look just fine, though... right Dad?" The man had assured Jacob of this more than once. Still, he wanted to hear it again.
The man stared down at him. "Have you looked in the mirror lately... you handsome devil?" He rubbed his boy's head as if he was making a wish.
When he did that, Jacob felt a warm spot in his chest and forgot all about being a tough working man. He slid his face against the man's side. They both smelled like summer sweat, but the boy didn't mind. His dad put his arm around him and pulled him tight.
"Honest? I'm handsome?"
"Yep, honest."
This time together — this time with his dad — he looked forward to it all week.
Lump
His wandering thoughts were interrupted by something he'd been hoping for, same as happened the last week: as he sat on his daddy's lap watching TV, right after he leaned back against his chest... he felt the lump grow under his butt.
He carefully glanced over at his mama. She was still writing in her crossword puzzle.
Just like last time, the boy ever-so-slightly moved his butt against the lump... a little wiggle. It was so slight, he didn't know if it was even noticed. His dad made no sound or adjustments, but the lump got bigger.
Jacob slightly rubbed the back of his head against the man's chest. He felt the breathing change, just a little, and he hoped he was making his dad feel good, just as his dad was making him feel good.
Another little wiggle.
The lump grew stiffer.
This was another part of the secret thing between them.
He'd seen his dad's wiener before, but not when it grew big and stiff. Thinking about it now... made a tent appear in the front of his own underpants. Jacob casually laid his arm across his lap, hoping his mama hadn't noticed.
He wondered what his dad would say if he knew Jacob watched him though the bathroom keyhole sometimes, when he showered.
Slippy Slide
They had a bathtub and a shower. His dad and Uncle Rob built the shower when he was just a baby. It was like a closet made of tile with a shower curtain instead of a door. None of his friends had showers. Just them.
His mama didn't take showers though. She liked her long baths. She also didn't like having to clean both the tub and the shower, so she made Jacob take baths.
He didn't mind baths, though. He had accidentally found a way to have fun in the tub, all by himself.
His mama bought lots of smelly lady-things that she never used. Bottles, tins and boxes, shelf after shelf, was full of these lady-items that Jacob had no interest in. But he had discovered a small, fancy, decorated bottle of bath oil in the sea of other smelly lotions, soaps, powders and creams. A cap-full of the flowery-smelling oil made the water and the tub as slippery as a wet bar of soap.
After he washed himself nice and clean, he drained most of the water out then slid on his belly against the slick bottom and sides of the tub, round and back and forth on the perfectly smooth white porcelain...zoom! whoosh! splash!...with his wiener sliding against the slick surface, instantly getting stiff. It was exciting, that feeling! He couldn't think of any other feeling like it.
Afterward, he learned quickly that he had be extra careful standing up in the tub. His feet slipped out from under him. If he hadn't grabbed the side of the tub at the last second, he would have fell back down against the hard porcelain, maybe head-first. The thought made him cringe.
Drying off, he realized he didn't like the flowery smell of the bath oil. He looked closely at the bottle. Avon Lavender Bath Oil. Sure, it made his skin feel good — soft and smooth — but the smell reminded him of his grandma. He loved his grandma but he didn't want to smell like her.
Also, he noticed that perfumed soaps and lotions stung his wiener a little bit after a few minutes of sliding around, not to mention if some of it got in his eyes.
But a few days later, after more snooping around, he found another bottle of bath oil under the sink, a larger one this time.
The bottle was dusty and apparently forgotten, opened but not used at all. Unscented Bath Oil. On the back of the bottle was stamped Discount Family.
So...this brand was not from the Avon lady who came to their house and sold his mama perfumes and lotions, but this bottle was from the "cheap store," Discount Family.
He looked closely at the smaller print on the back and recognized some of the words in the ingredients: sweet almond oil, then "av-o-ca-do." Then coconut oil, apricot ker-nel oil, grape seed oil...
"Grape? Really?" he mumbled to himself. Jacob sniffed the cap. Nothing. No smell. He touched the inside of the bottle and got a tiny dab on his finger then touched it to his tongue, expecting to taste grape. No taste.
A couple of nights later, taking a bath, he slid around the inside of the tub with the help of Discount Family Unscented Bath Oil. It was just as slippery on his stiff wiener but it didn't sting his skin... and no grandma-smell. 'Next time, I'll add three cap-fulls!' he told himself.
Afterward, he pushed the bottle all the way to the back of the shelf behind all the other containers, out of sight, whispering, "The official bath oil of Jacob McEvoy. Finders keepers, losers weepers."
Spy
Jacob just barely remembered his daddy taking him into the shower a few times when he was five or six, showing him how to turn on faucets and how to wash himself under the spraying water. Those memories had mostly faded to blurs.
He saw his dad naked a few times since then, but didn't pay much attention, until this year, that is. Now it was all he could think about. His dad and mama saw him naked all the time. He never cared about that. And he saw his dad in his underpants every weekend. Lately though, Jacob looked for excuses to see him naked.
A few Sundays earlier, he went into the spare room where his dad slept, hoping to (accidentally) catch him after a shower so he could see him or even hug him while he was naked. He was wearing underwear though. Jacob hugged him anyway — an extra-long hug. His dad's squishy lump was pressed against his chest and he felt it grow a little harder before the man gently ended the hug to get dressed.
The first time Jacob got the idea to peek through the keyhole, he was afraid his dad might see him watching. Not because he would get mad — he never got mad at him — but because Jacob would be embarrassed.
As soon as he heard the water start in the bathroom, he carefully looked through the keyhole and watched his daddy drop his underpants then step into the shower. He couldn't see his wiener though. The shower wasn't directly in sight of the keyhole.
The man wasn't as tan as Jacob, but almost. His top half was more tanned than his bottom half because he didn't wear shorts most of the time like Jacob did.
So he memorized his dad's muscly butt, his back and his legs. When he heard the shower curtain slide closed, he went back to the living room, grabbed the small sofa-pillow, rubbed it against his face, kissing it, pretending it was his naked daddy. He didn't know why he did that. Later, it seemed silly, the way he'd acted.
When he eventually heard the squeak of the faucets again, he knew his dad was done. This time, he saw everything. He watched though the keyhole and stared at his wet naked body, his chest, the muscles on his thighs, and especially his wiener, hanging and jostling as he dried himself with a towel. The way the big balls hung when the man stood a certain way, reminded him of the bull he sometime saw in Morely's pasture on his way home.
Jacob had accidentally seen his mama's hair once. She thought he was still sleeping and so she put on fresh clothes straight from the laundry basket. He hadn't meant to look. When he saw her wide bush of black hair that covered that whole area of her body, he was shocked. He'd never seen such a thing. She slid into her underpants which barely covered the black bush. Jacob quickly shut his eyes and still pretended to be asleep.
He never wanted to see that again.
His dad's hair wasn't like that. It was just a small patch of brown hair above his wiener and a little trail that ended at his belly button.
The longer he stared at the man, the more tightness he felt growing in his pants.
Daydreams
He didn't know why he daydreamed about wieners so often — his friend Dougie's wiener, his older friend Nate's wiener... but it was different when he daydreamed about his dad. He daydreamed about his whole body — his bare chest and muscles, his body underneath him as he sat on his lap, and yes, the lump. There were other things he daydreamed about him too... the way they about their favorite TV shows, school, friends — the way they played in the yard and the way they told each other jokes and riddles. He thought about the way his daddy hugged and kissed him goodnight.
Love. That was the difference, he guessed. Dougie was his friend, but he didn't love him. He didn't hug and kiss Dougie. But he hugged and kissed his dad and he pressed his face against the man's chest while he softly rubbed Jacob's head.
Dougie
Every so often, he would spend a Friday overnight at his friend Dougie's house. Dougie would talk his mama into inviting Jacob over. Jacob's mama rarely said no when it came to getting rid of him for the night so that she could "do things without a kid tagging along." He didn't know what "things" she meant, but he knew better than to be nosy.
One of the reasons he liked spending the night at Dougie's... he got to take a bath with him. Dougie's mama didn't mind one bit.
"How come you always want to take a bath?" Dougie asked him once.
"'Cause I like playing war-boats."
Dougie's face lit up. "Oh yeah... me too!"
But really, his secret reason was... he liked looking at Dougie's wiener.
One time in the tub, when Jacob got stiff, he slowly raised his hips up out of the water and, in a loud whisper, he announced, "submarine!"
Dougie snorted a laugh but immediately resumed playing with his boat. It was clear to Jacob then that Dougie didn't think about wieners the way he did.
More than once, he imagined sliding his hand down into the water to feel Dougie's, but he never dared.
Nate
Finally though, he did get to feel a wiener. Not Dougie's, and not just a regular wiener like his own — but a big kid's wiener. A teenager. Nate. Seventh grade. His real name was Nathaniel, but he hated being called that.
He knew Nate for a long time but never talked to him for more than a few minutes. Mrs. Hill, Jacob's neighbor down the road, was Nate's grandma.
It was common to see a couple of kids on their road at most times of the day in the summer, but nothing at all was going on that day.
Jacob slowly wandered over near Mrs. Hill's driveway where the older boy was winding tape onto a couple of sticks, part of a broken kite, and asked him some questions about kite-flying as an excuse to start up a conversation.
He also asked the teen if he watched Highway Patrol.
He did!
Nate was thirteen, much older than Jacob, so they didn't have much in common. This time though, they gabbed easily, like they were school buddies. Jacob felt proud that he was hanging around with a teenager. They talked more about TV shows and about teachers they did or didn't like.
Then Nate told him about a girl he liked. After a minute though, in a strange turn of their conversation, the teen talked about how he got boners in class. He also confided — bragged really — about how big his dick was. Jacob knew what dick meant. Some of the older boys said dick instead of wiener. But he wasn't for sure what boner meant. After a minute though, he figured out Nate was talking about his stiff wiener.
Ohh... boner means wiener... when it gets hard! ...like a bone! The puzzle pieces fell into place.
That was the first time ever he'd heard someone talk about stiff wieners, other than his mama when she complained about him touching himself. Now he knew it wasn't just little kids that thought about stuff like that. Teenagers' thought about stiff wieners too. He thought about his dad's lump. Now he knew it was called a boner. He tucked that bit of information away for later.
Nate cocked his head and whispered, "come on." Jacob followed him into his grandma's garage and he closed the door.
The Garage
The light from the window was dim but he could see the teen unsnap his pants and pulled down the zipper. A pole in his white underpants was clearly straining to pop out. He pulled down the elastic in front and it sprang free.
At first he was amazed that Nate was actually showing him. Then he was even more amazed by how big it was. It pointed up, like Jacob's boner did. It was even curved a little bit, like a banana, same as his. He wondered if his daddy's was this big when it was stiff.
"Don't tell anyone about this," Nate squinted his eyes like a villain on Highway Patrol.
"I wont," Jacob promised.
Then Nate hinted that Jacob should feel it — actually feel his wiener! He was nervous to do it, but his excitement was stronger than his fear. He'd never felt a wiener before, except his own.
First, he just touched it. Warm. Then he wrapped his fingers around the fleshy tube. It was hard and smooth at the same time. The teen put his hand around Jacob's hand and moved it so that his boner was sliding in and out of their closed fingers. He felt the familiar tightness growing in his pants.
Nate slowly let his own hand fall away, letting Jacob do it on his own, sliding his closed hand over the pole. The little boy was mesmerized and he could tell his older friend liked what he was doing. His body moved a little, trying to further slide his boner in and out of Jacob's hand. He didn't know the reason for the in and out motion, but he liked doing it and he liked how it felt in his hand. In-out-in-out. Faster. In-out...
From very far away, he heard a telephone ring.
In-out-in-out...
Then, a distant voice called, "Nathaniel... phone!"
It was Nate's grandma. The teen quickly wedged his boner back into his underpants and zipped up. "Okay Gramma!" he hollered back.
"See you later, Jacob" he whispered with a worried smile as they left the garage, then Nate hurried off into the house.
Jacob wondered, 'Will he be back? ...and If he does come back, will he want to do it again?'
~
A few days later, Nate was at his grandma's again but he was hanging out with some older kids, so Jacob didn't bother him.
Sometimes, he thought about Nate in his daydreams, and about Dougie, especially when he played with his wiener at night. Almost always though, his secret thoughts switched to the big man who came home on Sundays to see him.
Life
His dad and ma were just teenagers when Jacob was born... he was seventeen and she was nineteen. But they weren't young anymore. They were pretty old. His dad was twenty-five and mama was twenty-seven. His dad made a lot of money compared to most of their neighbors. They had a nice house, nicer than Dougie's house, a big yard, two cars — one for his daddy and one for his mama — all because of the construction company. This wasn't so important to Jacob though. He didn't care that his house was nicer than Dougie's. At least Dougie's dad lived at home.
He told Jacob that, someday, him and Uncle Ron wanted to open a regular office, here in town, instead of always using their traveling trailer-office. He would get to come home every night.
When this would happen, his daddy didn't know.
Sundays
His dad and ma didn't say much to each other anymore, except for small boring things, and he knew they didn't like each other very much. Still, his daddy loved him and always made sure to come home at least once a week, for sure on Sundays. Also, in between jobs, he came home for a few days in a row. Jacob loved when that happened. Those times weren't often enough though.
Here's how it went most of the time: his dad always timed his drive home so that he arrived home at least by late Saturday night after Jacob was already in bed and asleep. When he woke up Sunday morning, his dad would be home, sleeping in the spare bedroom or just waking up. His mama would be getting ready to meet Aunt Theresa for breakfast. So him and his dad would get to spend the Sunday together.
He always stayed until early Monday morning. If Jacob managed to wake up extra early on Monday morning, it was just enough time to hug and kiss him goodbye and he wouldn't see him again until the next Sunday morning.
His mama played organ for her church. She didn't get paid for it though; she was a volunteer. His dad gave her money every week to pay all the bills and whatever else. Aunt Theresa came over a couple times a week to visit or to see if Mama needed help with this or that.
Sunday was God's day off and his mama's day off (from Jacob). Besides meeting Aunt Theresa for breakfast, she went to morning church, then dinner with Theresa and other women from the church.
She said that Yankees called dinner "lunch" and they called supper "dinner," and only the Lord knew why.
After that, she went to his grandma's house, her mama's, followed by Sunday night service. It was eight o'clock by the time she got home Sunday nights. If it wasn't for his daddy being there to watch him on Sundays, he'd have to go with her and be bored to death all day long.
Sometimes, even on a weeknight, Ma looked a reason to get out of the house. Jacob didn't mind. He liked when their neighbor Debbie babysat. She was a teenager and knew lots of jokes. She was so darned funny!
Still, his favorite day was Sunday, of course, when his daddy was home.
Ben
...was short for Benjamin. He was twenty-five, tall, with big muscles from all the construction work he did — and he was Jacob's best friend. He even told his dad this!
And what did the man say to that?
He said, "What a coincidence! You're MY best friend!"
They usually kept stuff like that for when Jacob's ma wasn't around. He got to hug him and kiss him and be cuddly for a few minutes — but just when they were alone. Sometimes, Jacob and his daddy made goofy faces at each other. A couple of times, they did that up close with their noses touching. It was babyish and silly... and Jacob loved it.
When his mama was nearby, his daddy called him 'Jacob or Jake.' When she was gone, he always had pet names for Jacob. He called him my-boy or JJ or my-J.
When his mama was there, he kissed his daddy on the cheek at bedtime. When she was gone, he kissed him on his lips. He didn't feel comfortable kissing and cuddling with his daddy in front of her. He wasn't sure why.
Feel-good Dream
It was just another one of those dreams, he was pretty sure. Two weeks earlier, late Saturday night, he suddenly woke up for a reason he couldn't understand. His wiener was hard — so hard. He was having a dream, he realized. A good dream. A dream that left him with an ache or an itch he couldn't scratch. He couldn't remember the dream, only that it felt really-really good.
And beer. In the dream, he smelled beer. Mabel... Black Label!
He'd had this same dream before, he was sure of it, maybe a couple of times — if only he could remember what the dream was about.
He reached down into his underpants and pushed down against his stiff wiener. "Dick," Nate had called it. And boner. It felt extra good but it was so stiff that he thought it might break if he pushed it down too hard.
His sleepy confusion faded enough to remember that it was Saturday night. His dad was here! He slid out of bed and crept quietly down to the spare room. The door was open just a bit. He craned his head into the dark and saw his sleeping outline, his breathing chest slowly rising and falling. The hands of his wind-up alarm clock glowed green in the dark. Eleven-thirty. He went to the bathroom to pee.
He would have loved to just crawl under the covers next to his daddy to sleep, but the last time he did that, his mama complained he was too old for that, and that he had his own bed for a reason.
He sighed and went back to his own bed. As he closed his eyes, he reached his hand into his underpants and tried to remember the feel-good dream.
Cisco Kid
It was later that week when he saw Nate again in his grandma's yard, alone, sitting in a lawn chair reading a comic book. He recognized the name on the cover, Cisco Kid, because it was also a TV show.
On the grass next to the chair lay a couple more magazines. One of the magazines had a picture on the cover from the movie Miracle On 34th Street. It was some sort of article about the old movie. That seemed an odd choice for a teenager, especially in the summer. Jacob decided the magazine probably belonged to Nate's grandma.
"Cisco Kid is great!" Jacob finally announced. "I get to watch it whenever my mama isn't watchin' the Loretta Young Show."
Nate made a sneer-face. "That show puts me to sleep."
"Yeah," he agreed.
Then the teen added, "She is kinda good-looking though, that Loretta Young, for an old girl, I mean."
Jacob pointed to the Cisco Kid page Nate was looking at. "I like Poncho!" In the frame, Cisco's friend Poncho was jumping into a barrel to hide from desperadoes.
"Yeah," Nate chuckled. "Poncho's pretty funny!"
Just a year or so earlier, Jacob hadn't called the show by its name, "The Cisco Kid." he simply referred to the show as "Poncho." He had pleaded, "Mama, can't we watch Poncho steada Loretta Young?"
But he wasn't really interested in Poncho or Cisco at that moment. He was more interested in Nate's boner. He wanted to do it again, the thing they did last time, but he was too embarrassed to ask.
Finally, after a few minutes, trying to sound as non-chalant as possible, Jacob asked in a low voice, "Wanna go in the garage?"
Nate's expression didn't change at first. After a few seconds though, he laid down the comic and looked toward the house. All was quiet. "Okay," he nodded toward the garage.
Back to the Garage
With the door closed and only the light from the tiny window, he finally noticed that Nate was wearing some sort of sports pants, held up by stretchy elastic, similar to pajamas or gym shorts. The teen pulled them partway down and for the second time, Jacob saw his wiener — or dick, rather. He wasn't wearing underpants this time. He saw a small patch of straggly hairs. He hadn't even noticed that last time. Within a few moments of Nate exposing himself, his dick grew longer and harder.
Jacob started to ask him about the hairs when Nate whispered, "We didn't get to finish last time."
"Finish?" he had no idea what Nate meant.
The teen looked around then made his way to the other side of the garage where a big old over-sized truck bench-seat lay on the garage floor. He flipped it upright and sat on one end, motioning Jacob to join him. He sat beside him on the seat. Nate leaned back and pulled his pants a little further down. Now his balls were exposed too. The teen held the boner for a few moments, playing with it, massaging it, then began sliding his hand up and down the pole.
Jacob wanted to reach over and feel it too, but didn't dare on his own. Up down up down...
"Oh Natalie... mmm...mmm..." Nate whisper-moaned.
"What?"
"Natalie Wood," Nate explained dreamily. "I think of her whenever I do this."
"Natalie Wood?" The name was familiar. In his head, he heard his mama's voice say something like, "That sweet little girl, Natalie Wood." He thought for a moment — the magazine on the ground next to the lawn chair. "You mean the little girl in the Santa Clause movie?"
Nate nodded. "She's grown up now. You should see her... what a doll! She was James Dean's girlfriend... in that movie, anyway. Maybe for real too, I don't know for sure. But now that James is dead, I'll bet she's lonely and needs another guy... someone like me, to look out for her, and hug and kiss her, and rub her back, and... her tits... and her... mmm..."
He more earnestly moved his closed fist, slowly up and down. "And..." he continued, "both our names, Natalie and Nate... start with N-A-T... isn't that cool?"
"Yeah," Jacob answered. He did understand about liking someone so much that it made his wiener hard. Finally, Jacob whispered out loud, "Want me to do it for you, like last time?"
The teen laid his hands to the sides and looked at Jacob with a sly smile. "Okay... I'll pretend you're Natalie."
Jacob giggled. Then it occurred to him that this was the plan all along. That was just fine with him. He wrapped his hand around Nate's teenage pole, like last time. It was just as warm as before. He moved his hand up and down, sliding, up... down...
up, down, up, down...
Jacob wanted to ask him, 'why slide up and down? Why not just rub it and play with it?'
As if Nate read his mind, he said, "If you keep doing this for a few minutes, I'll cum."
Jacob thought for a second but didn't understand. "Come where?"
"I mean... stuff will come out," he answered, "it kind of... squirts out."
"Squirts out of your wiener?"
"Yeah."
"Pee?" he stopped moving his hand.
"No! no-no... not pee, it's ball-juice.
"Ball-juice?" Jacob had no idea what he was talking about.
"The dirty books call it cum... but the real science-name is Jizz. I just call it ball-juice."
Jacob slowly moved his hand again. "Why do you call it that?"
"It's juice that comes out of your balls." The teen palmed his sack, rubbing and moving his balls, pulling at them as Jacob pumped up and down. "There's juice in here... like coconuts have juice,"
Jacob strained his eyes in the dim light, trying to see Nate's balls better.
"...and in a minute, it will feel really super-good. It'll feel so good... juice will squirt out."
The boy looked at him suspiciously. "Nuh-uh."
"Swear to God." He whispered. "You'll see, if you keep doing it."
Jacob looked down at his own crotch. "I never heard of ball-juice before."
"That's because little kids don't know about it... but you'll see, in a minute." Then he smiled and added quietly, "It's neato... you do wanna see it... don't ya?"
He shook his head and kept sliding his hand, a little faster, pumping up down up down up down...
Nate cupped his balls again and began feeling and massaging them as the boy's hand worked on the hard pole. Then he reached over to Jacob's free hand and pulled it onto his balls, letting Jacob handle both jobs.
"Does feeling your balls help make the juice come out?" Jacob asked him.
"Well, it feels good, so, yeah, I guess it helps."
Jacob cupped the sack of balls and moved his hand around, massaging, as Nate had done. The sack was warm... even warmer than Nate's boner. The balls themselves were certainly bigger than Jacob's, but it didn't feel like there was juice sloshing around in there. The skin though... it wasn't wrinkled up like when it gets cold or after swimming... it was as soft as the skin of his own sack. He felt his own boner get even tighter in his pants.
Jacob's hand slid up and down, up down up down...
Nate began moving, humping his body up into Jacob's hand.
The boner felt rock-hard, bowed tight, and it was throbbing. Nate's breathing became more noticeable.
Then out of nowhere, Jacob's arm started to ache and burn. "Owww..." he let go of Nate's boner and rubbed his arm muscle.
"Don't stop!" Nate moaned desperately. "It's almost..."
Jacob quickly grabbed the pole and resumed, pumping it up-down-up-down...
"Here it comes," he huffed, whispering loud, "Oh, Natalie baby...don't stop!"
A few moments later, a thin line of something squirt out of the pee-hole... just a quick shot.
Jacob felt his eyes widen, amazed.
"don't stop don't stop..."
It made a wet, thin line on Nate's red t-shirt.
Then another shot. It squirt Jacob's arm. It was hot. The fact that he was okay with getting hot ball-juice on his skin didn't occur to him right then. He kept pumping it, but slower, watching.
A little more flowed out the hole now. He knew it wasn't pee because it was a thicker than pee and it was sort of white, yet clear.
"don't stop yet..."
"Ball-juice!" Jacob whispered in amazement. "Neato!"
A single trail of the juice dripped over his hand and onto Nate's naked lap.
After a few moments, Nate stopped Jacob's hand from moving.
He let go of Nate's boner and examined his hand, marveling at the wet trail of ball-juice.
"Don't worry, it's not dirty. It's just juice." Nate assured him, breathing hard.
Jacob looked closer at his hand then cautiously smelled it. Nothing.
"Did it feel good when it came out?" Jacob asked.
"Heck yeah! Feels really good. It always does."
Jacob carefully wiped his arm onto his pants, staring at the small dark spot he just made on his leg and asked Nate, "Do I have ball-juice in mine?"
"Naw, probably not yet. Not 'til you're twelve or thirteen."
"So... just boys have ball-juice, not girls?"
Nate snickered and rolled his eyes. "Girls don't have balls."
"Yeah." Jacob lightly slapped his forehead. He thought for a moment, watching Nate's soggy wiener slowly flop over and shrink. "What happens if you use it all up... the juice?"
"My balls make more."
"Ohh," Jacob whispered in awe. "Really?"
"Yeah, every day, they make more."
Jacob considered this. "Well, what's it for... the juice?"
Nate's answer made the boy blink...
"It makes babies."
Sex Ed
"Nuh-uh!"
"Yup. It's like when seeds grow into flowers... except, these seeds are wet... like warm water... and they grow babies. My cousin is in eighth grade. He explained it all to me."
Jacob didn't get it.
Nate's shrinking wiener (no longer a "boner") still had a drip of ball-juice on the tip. Nate touched his finger to it and showed Jacob the wet drop. "This is a person... it's a kid. A kid is on my finger... this is a tiny seed of me." If I put it inside a girl's hole, it would grow into a baby." He smeared his finger and thumb together.
"Did you just squash a baby?"
Nate chuckled. "Naa, it can't turn into a baby unless you put it inside a girl.
Jacob cocked his head, completely lost.
"Just like a sunflower seed can't grow into a sunflower until you put the seed in a hole in the ground.
Jacob still wasn't getting it. "I like sunflower seeds!" is what he finally said.
"Never mind." Nate said with a sigh."
Jacob nodded at the dark spot on his pants where he'd wiped Nate's ball-juice "So, this wet spot here... is not a baby?"
"Na," he answered, "The ball-juice is just one part. It doesn't make a baby unless it's inside a mama. Only girls can grow babies inside. Boys can't."
Jacob remembered the photograph of his mama, when she had a big belly — she had explained it was him in there, getting ready to be born.
Nate continued, "But... here's the cool part... you know how boys kinda look like their daddies?"
Jacob thought about his dad's blond hair and nodded.
"It's because boys grow from the daddy's seed. Your daddy's ball-juice made you." He pointed at Jacob. "In fact, you are your daddy's ball-juice."
Just the idea of what Nate was saying made Jacob's thoughts shift into high gear. "Neato!" he giggled, not because it was funny, but because it was so amazing.
Nate looked down at his small soggy wiener and wrinkled his nose. "Kinda yucky, huh?"
"Well," Jacob considered, "but it's kinda neato, too."
He didn't notice right then that Nate's ball-juice wasn't the only thing rubbing off on him; his neato teenager lingo was rubbing off too.
Then he started to ask about Nate's hair again, wondering when he himself might grow hair down there... but just then, he heard a crunch of gravel from right outside.
They both jumped up, Nate yanking up his pants in one quick movement. He peeked out the tiny window. "It's my friend Dan," he whispered, smoothing his shirt.
Nate quickly looked around the dim garage, then picked up a stack of old magazines. "Here!" he whispered. He piled the stack onto Jacob's open arms and then picked up a second stack for himself. "We were doing a Scouts project, yeah, that's what we're doing," he whispered, "for Scouts."
With fear on his face, Nate whispered again, "Don't tell any of it... not even the stuff we talked about."
Jacob shook his head. "Scout's honor."
Nate snickered, looking relieved.
Jacob followed him out the garage door into the sunlight, magazines stacked up to his neck.
Loudly, Nate announced, "Thanks for the help, Jacob!" Then he added with fake surprise, "Oh, hey, Dan!"
"You're welcome," Jacob groaned.
"Just set those on the porch for me, Jake."
He did, and then he walked home.
Rub-a-Dub-Dub
That same night, after Jacob lay in the tub of warm water, daydreaming instead of washing, he drained most of the water, as usual, then slid around inside the tub for a minute, thinking about what he'd done in the garage with Nate. The slippery porcelain made him imagine that Nate was in the tub with him.
He slipped himself out of the tub and hurried across the bathroom to the cupboard under the sink and poured another capful of Discount Family Bath Oil, but instead of dumping it into the tub, he drizzled it directly onto his wet body and rubbed it. The intense feeling of his slippery hands sliding over his wet belly, his thighs, his balls, his tight stiff wiener — caused his breathing to change. He felt his hips push forward without his permission, without his forethought, sliding and grinding his stiff wiener against his cupped hand. The feeling was more intense than his experience sliding in the tub. But now, he didn't imagine Nate... he imagined sliding his slippery boner against his naked daddy. He felt a groan in his throat, trying to voice itself.
Then a BOOM on the bathroom door made him jump. "Jacob... you about done? Get a move-on, will ya!"
"Okay, Mama, almost done!"
This, and the thing with Nate, had all been a couple of weeks earlier.
~
Chief Dan Mathews stops in his tracks, turns, looks straight-faced right at the audience at home and says in a gravelly voice, "Leave your blood at the Red Cross, not on the highway!" Then he opens the door of his patrol car and quickly slides in.
Goodnight Kiss
Highway Patrol was over and commercials were playing. His mama was no longer on the couch.
"I'm going to the A&P before they close!" She yelled from the kitchen.
"Okay!" his dad yelled back.
He heard the car pull out of the driveway then sputter on down the road. He knew she would only be gone a few minutes.
"Dad?"
"Yeah, J?"
Jacob turned his head around and looked into the man's eyes. His daddy wasn't like his mama, who never gave him her full attention.
He felt a little embarrassed asking but continued. "Um, steada you giving me a kiss goodnight later, will you kiss me goodnight now, while Mama is gone, you know... before she gets back?"
His daddy narrowed his eyes for a second then flashed Jacob a warm smile. The man wasn't generally the smiling-for-no-reason type and he saved most of that warm stuff for Jacob. Just one more reason Jacob loved him so much. The man picked him up with his strong arms without even standing up. He spun Jacob around and held him, his head lay in the crook of his arm. Most of the time, Jacob wanted to appear like an older kid in front of this daddy... like a teenager. But sometimes, like now, that didn't matter to him at all.
The man leaned his head down and kissed his lips softly.
Jacob wrapped his arms around his neck and kissed his lips in return, a soft kiss, as sweet as he could make it. Then he hugged him for a few moments.
His daddy looked down at him and said, "Goodnight my lil Mac-boy."
Jacob blinked. "I'm not really going to bed yet, remember?"
The man grinned, then Jacob knew he was just playing. "Night-night, Mister Mac." Jacob replied, giggling.
The man gave him a light little pinch on the belly and said, "Love ya, my boy."
"Love ya, my daddy." He turned his head to the side and snuggled his face against the man's fuzzy bare chest. He moved his hand around and touched his skin and felt the soft fuzz... running his fingers over it, touching his nipple, tracing its outline with his finger. Then, he didn't know why, he moved his face up against his dad's chest and kissed it, right on the nipple!
The man chuckled.
Jacob giggled, his face hugged tight against him. He felt the lump grow under him.
Holding Jacob tight, he moved his hand over the boy's fuzzy head. Then he lowered his head down to Jacob and kissed him again. Soft, warm little kisses on the lips, many in a row, each kiss blurred into the next. Kiss kiss kiss... sweet and full of love.
He thought about the drip on Nate's finger. It's a person! That's what Jacob started out as — a seed, his daddy's ball-juice. And now he was his daddy's boy.
'He's kissing his boy. Me. '
Jacob felt the lump throb this time, and felt his own stiffness grow tight in his underpants.
Sunday Morning
He woke up with a stiff wiener, as he had quite often lately.
This was the second day in a row his dad here. He went to pee, then to the kitchen and stole a drink of leftover orange juice from his dad's glass in the fridge. Then he went to the spare room where the man usually slept. He was already up and gathering clean clothes from a bag, still wearing his underpants.
Jacob rubbed his eyes. "Hi Dad... what ya doin'? ...is Ma already gone?"
"Morning, lil Mac!" He stopped what he was doing and smiled down at his boy then kissed the top of his head. "I'm going to take a quick shower then I'll make you some breakfast... and yeah, Mama's already gone to meet Aunt Theresa."
With squinty morning-eyes, he stared at the man's bare belly and counted the rows of muscles and followed the trail of soft brown fuzz below his belly button that disappeared down into his underpants.
His dad started to fish around in the bag again but without planning to, Jacob interrupted him with a good-morning hug around his waist. The man stopped and rubbed the back of Jacob's head. "Ahhh... my J." The boy's cheek was pressed against the muscles of his daddy's belly. His skin was soft and warm. Below that, pressed against Jacob's chest, was the squishy lump in the man's underpants. He hugged him tighter and his hands reached around and rubbed the small of the man's back. The lump against his chest grew harder.
The man hugged him in return then bent down and took Jacob's face into his hands. He gave the boy a little smooch on the lips, then said, "Do you want to watch TV while I shower and get dressed?" The clean clothes he held in his hands were now draped in front of him,
to hide his lump?
Was that on purpose?
Jacob almost started to go but finally worked up the nerve. "Daddy? I wanted to ask you something."
"Yeah?"
"Well, do you remember a long time ago, when I was six, you showed me how to work the shower?"
"Was it that long ago?" the man seemed to consider the question. "Seems like just last week," he chuckled, "but yeah, I remember."
"Um, well," Jacob continued, "I forgot what you told me... how it works, so... can I take a shower with you again... so you can show me?"
The man looked down at the clean tee-shirt and underpants draped in front of him, seeming a little hesitant. "There's nothing to learn, J. It's the same kind of faucets as the tub."
Jacob didn't quite make puppy dog eyes at him, but he wasn't far from it.
Finally the man smiled "Okay, sure. We can do that."
Jacob felt a wide smile fill his face. "Okay!"
The man stuffed his clean clothes under one arm, turned his back to the boy and crouched down to the floor. "Hop on."
Jacob jumped onto his back and wrapped his arms around his neck.
to be continued
(Sorry to leave you hanging. The conclusion will make up for it, I promise)