Patrick and John 6

Drunken giggling rattles the doorknob. Fourteen is curled on his side of the bed, back to back with Patrick, because unless you are in love, that’s what guys do. He opens his eyes and watches as John and some woman dance-fall about each other. It is a clumsy movie scene, backlit by the light spilling in from the parking lot. Cut, Fourteen calls out, Take two, this time John doesn’t stumble past Marsha’s mouth when he moves in for the kiss. A teachable moment here, don’t do drugs, Fourteen finally gets his perfect take. John’s fingers comb back the lady’s hair as he plants a lingering kiss and follows up with butterflies down her neck. John’s perpetual eleven AM shadow tickles. It is not Jakob Gierszal and Bartosz Gelner making love with their mouths in Suicide Room, but Fourteen finds this more engaging than Arrested Development or Patrick’s bitter déjà vu moments. The Anus Monologues, even the title is boring to Fourteen.

John is taking a break. He has watched Patrick with Fourteen over two states, and because Patrick needs it, he has raped the kid a few times so Patrick can rip a fresh bandaid off his oozing wounded soul. The after for John is Patrick’s palliative care and moments like this when he can feel normal. John wouldn’t say it, but the best years of his life were the three years he was free of Patrick, so yeah, now he needs normal.

The girl, John has forgotten her name, bar tends. John cruised the roadhouse, dancing, flirting, getting hornier. She let him stay after closing, flirting over shots. John surfed his phone over the first beer. Fourteen’s absence had been missed two states back. It was all short on details and a school picture sandwiched between the usual shit show news and endless repetitions of the national sideshow. The tired bar was light on TVs, every one set to games. John’s mind is on his next play, not Patrick or the bright eyes watching from the next bed.

Fourteen is recording it all in his adolescent lizard brain. Internet porn is internet porn. Hard to come by in Fourteen’s careful wrap-around world. Clever boy, Fourteen knows that porn has its own taint of CG unreality. You can green screen cut and paste a fuck as well as Spider-Man on a wall. Jakob Gierszal never got cast in any junior high dance Fourteen attended, but John played the part well. The lady was fit enough too. His eyes widen as he strokes himself.

John guesses his partner is half a decade older than him. Maybe she has a cat at home waiting, maybe a man and a kid. She breaks away with a last kiss so she can strip out of her jeans. They do a mutual striptease to the whispered music of Fourteen’s soft breaths. Fingers circumnavigate large breasts, spiraling into plum ripe areola and the erect nipples. A working girl’s nails scratch at the blackened forest contur of John’s hard torso. John drinks from her lips and slips his fingers down the back of her panties.

R rated, Fourteen is piqued to learn. Despite the Appalachian heat, the lady slips beneath the sheets before welcoming John’s hard body, oh so hard cock to join her. There is comfortable pillow talk and kisses. Fourteen almost cums across his fingers when John slides up into a straddled plank, ready-cock begging for a share of kisses. Rewarded by caresses and a delicate tongue, John retreats taking the sheets with him till his partner reaches down to pull them up. Fourteen stares at her gloaming face as John’s head bobs between spread thighs. John’s love making is long, like Patrick’s, very sensual with the strange woman. The pillow talk continues during this luxurious pent up coupling. Fourteen strokes himself to John’s powerful rhythm. The intensity builds between them, then Fourteen watches John shatter into his unnamed partner. She strokes his back possessively as stripped of strength, John falls to chuckling into the hollow of her shoulder.

Her, “Whose this?” Sober’s John considerably. First passion spent, she is taking a measure of the seedy hotel room for the first time. John suspects the convenience of it makes it a familiar destination. She, Alice, pretty sure it’s Alice, is no whore. Alice just cruises the bar like John. Sample the American smorgasbord of itinerant men passing through to somewhere. John’s, “No, I’m not ISIS,” dark looks caught her fancy. John fancies Alice was never confronted by a doe eyed adolescent peeking at her over a sheet. John has set his gun on the night stand close to Fourteen’s head. He reaches over Alice and silently picks it up.

Patrick is awake. He’d felt the clenched tension of Fourteen’s furtive masterbation with a stroke of his fingers. Sweet precum drips of salty summer sweat, mingle with the adolescent musk broadcasting from Fourteen’s vibrating body. That is a fresh banquet for Patrick’s after appetite. John’s fuck is a long slap in the bitch boy’s face. Real men’s work, and Patrick relishes the situation with a tug on Fourteen’s chain.

“Who is this?” Alice laughs. John is propped against the headboard, Saturday Night Special held at twelve o’clock, eyeing Fourteen. In for a penny, in for a pound, kid. Fourteen gets this, but jacking jackrabbit has not even considered a desperate dash for the door.

“My partner, Paul and his kid brother, Fourteen.” Alice sits up, suddenly all modest with the sheet over her breasts. She flips on the lamp bolted to the nightstand. Patrick’s blond mane and blue eyes start surfing toward her on a California curl. Patrick is poised for the invitation he knows is waiting in his inbox. It will be his chance to take the sting out of Fourteen’s casual assumption that Patrick is John’s bottom.

Alice shifts her gaze to Fourteen. “Hello Fourteen,” all motherly sing song crooning. Shy boy peeking from the blanket. Alice offers Fourteen a boozy smile.

Patrick is mean. Time to shove Fourteen over a cliff down to the bitch boy after. He sits up all casual so Alice can see his blond bodybuilder chest. “Tell me you remembered the case of beer.” Patrick strikes a pose for Alice, answer her email. What he is really doing is drawing the sheet off Fourteen’s hairless 110 pounds of piddly five inch erection. Fourteen cups his groin.

“Oh,” Alice croons again, “You’re so pretty! You are like a Mini Paul.” She smiles between Fourteen and Patrick. “Come here pretty boy.”

John is feeling mean too. Throughout Alice’s antics, he has rolled off the bed. At Patrick’s thirsty question, John nods. He rips a case open and pulls two cans free. Fourteen’s shy ass has to be prodded from the bed as John sits down beside him. “So pretty,” as John pushes Fourteen closer with the muzzle of his gun. John is all indulgent smile. Patrick is less certain where this will go. “You’re a little heartbreaker.” Alice praises. She won’t have any of Fourteen’s shy coverup. She has to see him, touch him, gentle his young skittery coltish flank. Boy pecs, imaginary treasure trail, then back to Fourteen’s little heartbreaker with its tight excited virgin package.

Drunk and fey, she draws Fourteen under the sheet with her, gifting herself a moment of the mandarin citrus, white spring blossomed symmetry of Fourteen’s tangerine goodness. He is between her spread thighs, gangly, lean trembling, one long heart pumping cock of virgin. She has him by the balls. She has to, because Fourteen is landing on the dark side of the moon, one giant leap ahead of his friend’s wildest boys will be boys imaginations. Alice guides him in all the way and Fourteen thinks, This is what I feel like for Patrick, and he shudders when he is settled into the inviting liquid heat of her.

This is not the on script. Patrick pulls at the beer bitterly. The teenage boy is the bitch, not John’s kid brother getting laid. Then he laughs softly so only John can hear him. John’s guest strokes the little bitch as Fourteen gapes at her milky white breasts. Patrick hopes Fourteen remembers this fleeting man-moment. Alice’s heat will brand his little bitch cock. A taste of Fourteen’s jerk dreams turned forever bitter. Fourteen will always fuck a girl knowing he gave up his pussy After Ass to better cocksmen like John. Fourteen can fuck, but Patrick seeps out between his tight little Fourteen asscheeks now and always.

John holds the forgotten can. He has had enough of alcohol till they reach Hershey. He cannot read Fourteen’s thoughts as the boy tries his first experimental thrust into the woman. Wait for it, John chuckles inwardly. He remembers this script. Excitement shifts to consternation as an enthusiastic little prick slips free of its sheath. Whisper “sorry” as fumbling fingers guide it back in. Strike one, but Fourteen steadies his bat and as his little butt rises up and down, he takes some practice swings. Alice is petting him, appreciating his tight haunches. John takes a sip of forgettable beer and lets the yeasty hops sit on his pallet. Fourteen goes into frantic motion. One elephant, two elephant, three elephant, four elephant… done, and the boy’s orgasmic earthquake flood is half in, half out of Alice. John swallows his beer: First times.

Fourteen is left planking her through the aftershots. Big Thunder Mountain Railroad done too soon and only half remembered. Fourteen is left wondering if he would get back in the line for this kind of ride. Shy boy all over again, Fourteen slides off the woman trailing his excitement along her leg. She sits beside him, certainly conscious of his embarrassment. Soft pillows trap his bicep as she plants a kiss on his cheek and crush mother hugs him. “You’re so pretty,” she reminds him. He watches her take John’s beer can and after a peck on the lips, she steps into the bathroom. Door closes.

There is too much light in the room. Alice might be his mother. That’s what’s wrong. Deep breath, Fourteen is staring at John who knows he is staring, and knows Fourteen knows he is staring, but they have been through this before. Fourteen looks away and catches Patrick’s appraising look. That is worth a blush and a bit lip. John casts about the room and finds the tangerine shirt and shorts. With a scoop he sends them Fourteen’s way. “Take a walk.”