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Bodega Bay
by Nick

Chapter Twenty Six

When I was a lot littler, I used to confuse a lot of words. Some of them sound so much alike that it's easy to do, especially when you haven't had a lot of exposure to them. Two words I used to mix up a lot were deaf and death. I used to say that people with a hearing disability were death, and more often than not, those around me didn't correct me. As I got older, I realized that it was because those two words do sound a lot alike, and they probably hadn't picked up on my error. It didn't matter, though, because I eventually learned the proper pronunciation of both words and from that point on, I didn't mix them up again.

Both words seemed to fade from my mind, because I had no reason to think of them. No one close to me had ever died, and I didn't know anyone who was deaf. I mean, sure, I would see things on TV about famous people who had died, but it was rather inconsequential to me because I had no intimate relationship with anyone famous. As my body trembled and I tried to process the scene that was unfolding in front of my eyes, the term death had presented itself in a very real fashion.

All I could do was stare. I was frozen in my tracks at the sight of my father, who was covered in blood. His face registered sheer terror, his blood drenched shirt pressed to his torso. I had never seen a man die, much less from a gunshot wound, and I knew I'd never get the picture out of my mind.

"Kevin, get back in the house right now!" my dad shouted, startling me out of my daze and bringing me to action. I did what he said, and as soon as I walked back through the front door, the sounds of sirens wailing through the streets drowned out all other sounds that could be heard. Flashing red, white, and blue lights were everywhere, and through the front window, I could make out the other houses on the street as the lights rotated against them.

By the time the paramedics, fire department and police cars arrived, our next-door neighbor's yard was full of bystanders and people trying to help. When I peaked back out the front door, I could see other kids standing in the doorways, watching the drama as it played out on our block. It was weird, because I had no idea what had actually happened, but at the same time, I knew exactly what happened.

A man was down, and he was in his front yard. He had been shot, but all I could see was blood pouring from his nose as my dad and a few of our neighbors tried to tilt his head back. There was a gun right next to him, too, so I guessed to myself that he had shot himself. I just didn't know why. While my dad and our neighbors worked on him, there was a frantic man and woman standing on the front porch of the house that the yard belonged to calling 911.

I got caught up in watching the frenzy to the degree that I wasn't paying attention to anything but the police, who were trying to calm the older couple whose yard had become a crime scene. It seemed fruitless, but the paramedics were giving the man CPR. I watched with interest as they pumped his chest repeatedly to no avail, even as they loaded his lifeless body onto a stretcher and placed him in the back of an ambulance.

When they were gone, it seemed like the police wanted to talk to everyone. My dad looked stricken as he told the police what he heard and what he found when he came outside to see what had gone on. Our neighbors looked just as traumatized as my dad did, and I noticed for the first time that they all had some of the man's blood on them. I heard the man and woman next door tell the police that they had no idea who the man was, and that they had no idea why he'd pick their yard to commit suicide in.

I felt sick to my stomach as soon as I heard that word. Suicide is such a terrible thing, and I could never imagine why someone would even contemplate it, much less go through with it. It's something so final, and there's no changing your mind once the act is committed. I've always felt like life is always worth living and that hope really does spring eternal. I wondered to myself what could have gone down to drive him to such a dire end, but I had a feeling that I'd never know.

"Dammit Kevin," my dad snapped as he walked up the steps of our front porch. "I thought I told you to get inside. What are you doing out here?"

With that, I scampered back into the house and got out of his way. His nightshirt was ruined, and so were his slippers. I watched him walk through the house and to the backyard, where he shucked his ruined clothes, came through the house again in his boxers, and headed straight to his bathroom.

As he showered, I sat back down on the couch and trembled at the thought of what had just transpired. A man's life was over, and that was all I could think of. I wondered if he was scared or if he just wanted to get things over with, and I wondered why again. I thought about what could have gone on in his life to bring him to such an end, and why he chose our next-door neighbor's yard to do it in.

By the time my dad got out of the shower, I was a nervous wreck. I listened as he opened the door and came out, then I watched silently as he walked down the hall to my room, only to find it empty. When he came back out to the living room, he had a frustrated look on his face, but it quickly softened when he realized how upset I was. He took a seat next to me and held his arms out for me, and I found myself going to him for comfort without delay.

"You saw a lot tonight, didn't you buddy?" he said softly as he stroked my hair and hugged me to his chest. I answered him with a nod and wrapped my arms around him, happy that he was there with me.

"Why did he do it dad?" I asked quietly as I curled my legs up and rested myself in his lap so he could rock me.

"I don't know buddy," he said softly right before he kissed the top of my head. "Sometimes we don't know why people do things. We just have to hope for the best for people, Kevin."

"Are you okay daddy?" I asked, looking up at his face, hoping to read his expression.

"I'll be fine, son," he said with a sad smile, but I knew he was fibbing. "I'm just worried about you right now."

"It was scary," I admitted as I nuzzled my head against his chest. "I was scared you were going to get hurt."

"Daddy's fine, kiddo," he assured me. "I want you to be okay."

"Do I have to go back to bed right now?" I asked him, honestly afraid to go back to sleep in my room.

"Why don't you camp out with me, Kevin?" he said. "Do you have to pee?"

I clung to his chest a little tighter and nodded, knowing he'd scoot me off his lap eventually so I could go to the bathroom before I got in his bed. When he finally did, I waited for him to take my hand and walk with me. I went into the bathroom and peed, then I went down the hall to his room and climbed into his bed.

I felt so nervous that I couldn't fall asleep right away. He wrapped an arm around me and pulled me close to him, so I rested my head on his chest and snuggled up as tight as I could to him. I felt him rubbing my back with one hand and running his fingers through my hair with the other, and we talked for a little bit. He told me not to worry about waking up early for school, that he'd call them in the morning and let them know why I wasn't going to be there.

"You need a haircut, buddy," he said, trapping my hair in the spaces between his fingers playfully. "We'll do that tomorrow."

"What else are we going to do tomorrow?" I asked.

"Well we have an appointment tomorrow afternoon," he reminded me, and he was right. Every other Monday was our counseling day, and he made it a point to make sure he was off work early to pick me up so we could be there on time.

"Do you like going to counseling dad?" I asked listlessly, and I realized that the only reason I had asked was because I was trying to keep him talking to me so I wouldn't fall asleep.

"Of course I do buddy," he said, letting my hair slip from his fingers. "What do you think about it?"

"I like it," I said shyly. "I like it when we talk about stuff that we don't talk about at home."

"Oh yeah?" he said with a small chuckle.

"Yeah," I answered in a small voice.

"Well there's nothing stopping us from talking about whatever you want when we're at home," he reminded me.

"I know," I told him. "Dad?"

"Yeah bud," he said.

"I love you," I replied, and I felt him squeeze me tighter.

"I love you too Kevin," he told me. "I love you so much."

That was when my eyes got heavy and I fell asleep.

The next morning I was roused out of my sleep by the smell of bacon and fried potatoes. I sat up and yawned with my arms stretched out as far as I could extend them, then I rolled out of my dad's king sized bed and went to the bathroom to drain my bladder, which was somehow full to capacity all over again. I wasn't sure how that worked. I had just gone to the bathroom the night before and I hadn't had a thing to drink in the meanwhile. Somehow, though, my body had produced enough pee to fill my bladder up again. It was one of life's annoying mysteries that made me wonder for about a minute but I ultimately just shrugged my shoulders at.

I wandered into the kitchen just in time to see my dad pouring himself a cup of coffee out of a half full pot. At first, he didn't notice me, so I leaned up against the counter and watched with amusement as he dodged the oil that was popping out at him from the pan of bacon. Off to the side he had a small bowl of eggs that he'd whipped up, and I knew he was getting ready to pour them over the fried potatoes and cook them together.

Fried potatoes and eggs was one of my favorite meals, and no one made it quite as well as my dad. I think it's because he used red potatoes and brown eggs, but I could be wrong. One thing was for sure though; it was delicious, and it didn't matter if my mom tried to make it for me, or my grandma. Neither one of them could capture the ultra luxurious flavors that my dad could, and I would pick his fried potatoes and eggs over anyone else's any time.

"Good morning little buddy," he said with a smile when he saw me watching him. "Did you sleep good?" I smiled and nodded, still trying to find my bearings as I dug the sleep from my eyes. Before I could ask, he opened the refrigerator and grabbed the milk, then he got me a cup down from the cabinet and filled it up for me.

I've always woken up thirsty. For as long as I could remember, I would head to the kitchen for something cold to drink as soon as I was alert enough after a long night's sleep. I guzzled the milk and let out a loud belch that served as a notice to my dad that I needed a refill. Not long after that, we were sitting at the table devouring our food. While we were eating, my dad talked to me.

"Son, we might need to talk to the police again about last night," he said through a bite of bacon. "They're going to want to ask us some questions about what happened."

"Okay dad," I said, picking up my toast. "What do I have to say?"

"Just the truth," he said casually. "Whatever they ask you, just be sure to be honest. It's no big deal." I just shrugged and took a bite of my toast, but I noticed that my dad was in deep thought about what had gone on. It made sense to me, though. I mean, how couldn't he be? He tried to save someone's life, and I wondered how he must have felt knowing that he couldn't do anything for him. In my eyes, he was a hero. It was nothing more than a confirmation to me of the way I already felt about him, though. He was already my hero, and his actions just re-enforced that image in my mind. There was truly no one in the world who I could think of who was braver than my dad was.

After breakfast, we took our time getting ready. We sat around in our pajamas and watched TV until The Price Is Right ended, then we got ready and walked out the door. I couldn't help but look over to our next-door neighbor's yard for a moment as we walked to the truck. I felt my dad's hand on my shoulder, so I looked up and saw that he was looking too. He swallowed and cleared his throat, then we turned and walked to our driveway.

I was a little shocked when we pulled into the parking lot of the credit union. I had completely forgotten about our deal, and about my allowance and report card money. We went inside and sat at a desk with a lady who took all of my information. My dad had most of it, but I was able to answer a few questions of my own.

When we walked out, I had a register that said I had an account with two hundred and forty dollars. There were spaces underneath it for when I made deposits and withdrawals, and my dad showed me how to keep track of that information. I learned I could also look at my account online, and I felt a small tinge of excitement at that. Something about it made me feel so important all of the sudden, and I couldn't wait to get home to see if I could access it yet.

From the credit union, we got on the freeway and wound up in Concord. While we were there I couldn't help but think about George, Patricia and Steele, and I wondered how they were. I knew we were close to where they lived, and I also knew that from our location, we weren't too terribly far from Pleasant Hill. That brought my thoughts full circle to Mark, and I found myself pining for him. I wasn't used to going so long without seeing him, but I knew I'd get to see him later that day. We pulled into an executive complex and parked. My dad reached under his seat and pulled his briefcase out while I watched. He pulled a manila folder out and looked through it, then he smiled and shut the briefcase before he reached for the doorknob.

"You coming with me kiddo?" he asked. "Or are you going to wait here?"

"I'll wait for you, dad," I said with a smile.

"It's gonna be about ten minutes bud," he told me. "Are you sure you want to wait?"

"I'm sure, dad," I said. "I think I'm going to call Justin."

"While he's in class?" he asked.

"It's our lunch period," I answered, and he just shrugged.

"Okay, I'll try not to be too long," he said, jumping out. "Lock the doors `till I get back."

I did what he said and waited for him to disappear, then I smiled and pulled my Sidekick out. I dialed Mark's number and it went straight to his voice mail, but I already knew it would. I just wanted to leave him a message to let him know that I was looking forward to hearing from him.

My next call was to Justin. I wasn't surprised when he picked up. I told him everything that happened the night before, and his response was exactly what I thought it would be.

"Holy shit, are you serious?" he exclaimed.

"Totally," I said.

"He just blew his own fucking brains out?" he asked, and I nodded as if I were standing right in front of him.

"I was scared shitless, man," I said. "My dad was trying to help but he was already dead."

"Damn dude," he said. "Well at least you got to take a day off from school."

"I think I'd rather be in school than see something like that," I said. "My dad's pretty upset about it too." Just then, I heard the bell ring on the other end and I knew lunch period was over. I got off the phone with Justin just in time to see my dad walking out to the truck, side by side with a man who seemed to be laughing about something. I saw my dad nod and extend his hand to the man, who took it and smiled back.

I unlocked the door and waited for my dad to get in, but he seemed to be taking forever. The man he was talking to stepped off the sidewalk and I watched as the two men walked across the parking lot. They approached a Lexus and the man popped the trunk while I sighed loudly, knowing that it would most likely be another ten minutes before we left.

Just when I thought I'd die from boredom, I got a pleasant surprise. Mark was calling me. I picked up right away and almost melted when I heard his voice.

"Hey baby," he said sweetly. "Why aren't you in school?"

I went on to tell him exactly what happened, and where I was.

"I miss you," I said, feeling a little sad. "Do you promise to come to Justin's later?"

"I promise baby," he said, causing my libido to stir with excitement.

"Tell me what we're going to do?" I commanded him in a seductive voice.

"I can't right now," he practically whispered with a chuckle. "Why don't you tell me what you want me to do?"

"You know what I want," I practically purred.

"No I don't," he teased.

"Well you'll find out," I promised him. "I'm horny."

Just then I heard the driver side door open, and I realized that my dad was about to get in. Luckily he was still wrapped up in his conversation and hadn't heard anything, but I knew I'd had a close call. Unfortunately, Mark had no idea what was happening and decided to tease me by breathing heavily into the phone like a pervert. I couldn't help but laugh, causing my dad to turn and look my way.

"He might as well be a teenager," he scoffed at the man he was talking to before he shut the door again. I shook my head and tried to scold my boyfriend, but I couldn't keep from giggling as I did. I made him promise that we'd see each other before I ended the call, then I sat alone in the truck for another five minutes and dreamt of the things Mark and I were going to do in a few hours.



There's something about not having sex for three days that makes everything seem so wonderful when it finally happens. When I got to Justin's house Mark was already there, like I knew he would be. We smoked a joint with Justin and his brother in the garage, and it seemed like an eternity for me until we were ready to go inside. As I sat there looking between the three gorgeous hunks I was sitting with, my hardon raged. Justin and his brother were making me just as horny as Mark was. I couldn't take my mind off of sex, and it seemed like everyone was taking their sweet time on purpose. I wanted to skip the joint altogether, but I knew Mark needed to get blazed, and to be honest, I felt like I needed it too.

When we finally made it to Justin's brother's room, we did everything in reverse. Well, sort of. I was in no mood for foreplay and wanted to get down to the nitty gritty, and I had no reservations about letting Mark know what was on my mind. I practically ripped my clothes off and attacked my boyfriend's body with my tongue.

We laid down on the bed, and somehow, I managed to roll him around until he was on top of me. I lifted my legs and hooked them back behind my arms so he could get into position, then I let them rest against his shoulders as I reached out with my hands and pulled him into me. I shuddered when I felt him enter me. It was as if it were happening for the first time as his long, forceful thrusts made me shiver with pleasure and lust. He leaned down and planted a kiss on my lips, and I think I tried to swallow his tongue.

I'm not too sure how many times I came that afternoon, because I lost count some time after my fifth orgasm. That, of course, was because after we had sex the first time, we went back and enjoyed all of the foreplay that I made him skip at first, then we had sex again. By the time we were finished I was spent, but I felt so satisfied and loved that I would have been willing to do it all over again in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, Justin's parents were coming home, Mark had to get back to Pleasant Hill and I had to go home too.

Before I left, though, Mark gave me something. When he handed it to me, I looked it over and cocked my head to one side before I looked back at him for an explanation.

"It's called a dildo," he said. "I got it for you so you won't have to do without when you're at home and you get horny. You can call me on the phone and talk to me while you use it."

"It's kind of big isn't it?" I said, turning it over again and again, trying to get a good grasp on how I'd manage to get something that size inside of me.

"You'll love it babe," he promised me. "Put it in your backpack, then hide it somewhere when you get home."

"Okay," I said with a smile. I slipped it into my backpack like he said, then I zipped it up and slid it over my shoulders. I gave Mark one last kiss before we emerged from the room, and I held his hand until Justin's mom came home.

We both left at the same time, and when I got home, I took my backpack straight to my room and put the dildo in my bottom drawer. That night my dad and I went swimming and ordered a pizza, then we crashed early. I woke up at about midnight and went to the bathroom, then I climbed back in my bed and thought about the gift Mark gave me. My curiosity was definitely piqued by it, so I turned on my lamp, climbed out of my bed and went to my dresser. I took it out and looked it over, not sure what I wanted to do with it.

I got back in my bed and held it up to my nose. It had a new smell to it, so I ran my hand over the end. It had a pretty realistic feel to it, so I stuck my tongue out and flicked the rim of the head. It felt real on my tongue, too, so I brought it up to my face and ran my tongue all over it, then I slid it into my mouth. I found myself mimicking the action of giving a blowjob, and before long, I had turned over so that I was lying on my stomach, bobbing my head up and down and letting my cheek bulge with it as I went down on it.

Before I knew it, I was being swept away by a wave of emotion and lust as my mind swirled with thoughts of Mark and Justin. I even imagined for a moment that the huge dildo in my mouth was attached to Justin's brother, and that I was about to take his load for the first time in the back of my throat.

I absentmindedly reached down and grabbed my hardon and let out a soft moan as waves of pleasure coursed through my body as my tongue swirled over the head of the massive dildo in my mouth. My bottom was moistening up and I knew I had to at least try to fit it inside, so I pulled up off of it for a moment and used both hands to lower my pajama bottoms, then I used my finger tips to rub my entrance, which was hot and eager for action.

I felt my fingertips slip in rather easily, so I continued to rub as I gripped the dildo with my other hand and positioned it so that I could sit on it. Once I had it lined up, I settled myself gently against it and started to grind my butt against it. I got impatient when I let go and it fell over instead of going up inside of me, so I grabbed it and lined it up one more time. This time, though, instead of trying to ease it in, I shoved myself down onto it with all my might.

That was a huge mistake.

The pain that shot through my body was sharp, and it produced a loud yelp from my mouth that I couldn't contain. I sat up and grabbed the dildo with my hands and pulled it out, but that was just as painful and I grimaced and yelped a second time. I was about to get up and hobble to the bathroom to examine the damage I had done when my door suddenly opened. And like a deer caught in a pair of headlights, I found myself face to face with my dad, who looked horrified at the site of his son, who was sitting on his knees, on top of the covers, naked and holding huge dildo in his hands.


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