Date: Wed, 15 Nov 2023 13:32:31 +0000
From: Scribbler Lad <scribblerlad@hotmail.com>
Subject: Blossoming Bud - Part 1

Blossoming Bud Part 1 - California Dreaming

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This is a coming of age story about an upcoming 18 year old guy, Bud, who
leaves his life on the east coast, the spectre of his mothers death and his
grief striken father to start college in California under the protection of
Ricky, his fathers bohemian architect brother.

I'd welcome your feedback and comments, email me at
scribblerlad@hotmail.com


Part 1 - California Dreaming

I woke suddenly, the pain on my cheek stabbing me awake, my adrenaline
pumping as I moved deftly to avoid another strike. His eyes, wild in the
night, his body towering above me. I rolled across the bed and onto the
floor as he lumbered across the punching at me. I threw my sneakers out of
the bedroom door and listened as they both tumbled down the stairs. I
looked up at him lunging at me from the bed and I felt his fist glance my
back almost toppling me as I quickly slipped into my shorts, my hard cock
snapped inside the waistband, as I pushed into my vest. I picked up the
small rucksack by the door and ran down the stairs. Hurriedly pushing my
feet into the sneakers I ran out into the cool night air. I heard the
screen door slam behind me as I picked up pace, running to get away, to get
away from him, his shouting, his drinking, his beating me up.

It was about 4 am, the July summer dawn sky was shedding pink and orange
light as I walked the streets hatching my plan to get out of here. I got a
few strange looks from lonely workers heading off to the factories. Looking
in a store window at my reflection I knew why, tight shorts, sneakers and
vest, my face starting to swell and my eye closing up from the punch. Dads
punch.

I'd been here before, many times, walking around the neighbourhood,
aimless, no plan, only to go back to him and home after a stopover in a
neighbours shed. Then the guilt would creep in and I'd feel remorse, it
can't be easy for Pops since mum passed.

This time it was different. I rummaged in my bag and found my
wallet. Inside was $483 saved from mowing lawns and running errands plus a
crisp $100 bill with a birthday card and photo from Uncle Rick asking how
are things and an invite up to his place in Claremont Heights, CA for the
summer.

Pop says Uncle Rick's a hippy fag. I know every detail of the photo without
looking, the image, the dream, burned into my retina; a pool and patio, a
garden and a hot tub, a pure blue sky and Uncle Rick, bronzed and smiling,
naked, hiding his junk behind a potted palm grinning right out at
me. Beckoning me to journey from east coast to west, to sunshine and
freedom.

Safely away from home, I walked to the school. I'd arranged for me to help
Ol' Hendy haul some boxes for the end of semester PTA kit sale. For me, not
only end of semester but end of school.

I sat on a wall and waited until 7am for Mr Henderson to arrive.

`Hey Bud' he calls as he gets out of his car, as we walk to the sports
pavilion, Hendy stops and gripping his hands on my shoulder he turns me and
our eyes meet, he looks at my cheek and says,

`I'd hate to see the other guy'.

I just blubbed, instantly, tears were running down my cheeks. He looked
kindly at me.

`Your Pa again?' I nodded, he noticed my bag, `You packed?'

I nodded and started to cry again.

`Hey Son that's alright, let it flow', I buried my face into his shoulder
and he hugged me lightly rubbing my back. I felt safe, warm, smelling his
scent of cedar-wood and soap.

I eventually stopped blubbering and he stared at me and smiled, his smile
vanished as he touched my chin moving my face to see the bruise.

`That looks sore, let's get ya cleaned up, I was expecting you today, but
not this'.

`Me neither' I reply, getting myself a little more composed.

Mr Henderson half smiled and looked deep into my eyes, then breaking the
spell he grabbed a musty towel from a pile and threw it at me and pointed
to the showers,

`I'll get ya a change of clothes'. He says.

I dropped my shorts and pulled off my vest and I turned around, naked and
grinned self consciously at Mr Henderson, his eyes looking me up and down.

He wandered off and I turned my head to see him turn around and look again
at me as I stood naked waiting for the shower to heat up, we both grinned.

`You sure filled out this year boy, you was a scrawny li'l runt. You
joining the swim team has sure done you good, now you shower and I'll get
them clothes, boys leave all sorts around, you'd be surprised'.

I caught myself in the mirror, I had filled out, I flexed and swivelled,
after my growth spurt I looked like a bean pole. Shaking my hips and cock
about I think yeah I am a pretty impressive guy.

I let the hot water run over me and I looked down at my cock, all 6 inches
of it, soft, water cascading off the uncut anteater hood like I was
pissing. I hear Mr Henderson shout `catch' as a bottle of shampoo hurled
towards me across the room. I catch it high in the air, stretching up, my
junk flapping around, and Hendy claps, then he puts down a pile of clothes
and leaves them on the bench.

`I've put a new swim team hoodie and smart shorts in for ya, as a
reminder'.

I let the suds tumble down my body and crotch as I washed my hair and the
hot water jet massaged my lower back. My hands went to my crotch and I
washed my nuts and hole quickly. I saw Hendy, lent against the wall
watching me intently, one hand in his pocket playing with his balls. It may
be right what guys say about him being a fag, who cares, right now he's my
salvation, my saviour.

Hendy sits close by me on the bench. We chat shit about swim team and the
past seasons triumphs and challenges, as I dry off on the scratchy
towel. Hendy gets some antiseptic cream for my cuts and he leans over and
dabs the ointment on my cheek, his hand accidentally brushes my dick as he
sits closer to me, his breath stops, and he slowly exhales, after the
silent pause he breathes in sharply and says, `come on, better get a move
on, get dressed and I'll lock up and drive you to the bus depot.

He gets up and starts to take boxes of lost property to his pickup. In my
clothes pile I find clean pants, a pair of white shorts, a polo shirt, and
the school hoodie, plus a bag with spare undies n socks, a couple of jocks
n a cup and a pair of new swim team speedos.

We drove into town, I tell him about the invite to stay the summer at
Uncles. He pulled in by the bus depot and turns and looks me in the eyes

`You don't know this but your Uncle Rick is an old pal of mine from way
back, he wrote me too with instructions that if you ever called on me that
I was to help you out. Send him my regards will ya? Now, you'd better run
kid you've got 20 mins to get that greyhound to Dallas, it's a long trip,
get some food for the journey'.

He slipped a folded $20 bill in my palm as he shook my hand, I pulled away,
turned and looked into his watering eyes, I was off. I was free.

I found the Greyhound booth and bought me a one way ticket to Claremont. I
quickly made up a carry out with sandwiches and drinks using the $20 from
Hendy. I found the Greyhound and settled in to my window seat, it was a 17
hour ride to Dallas, then an overnight and a days hike to LA and then the
local transit to Claremont Heights.

In a couple of days I'll be diving into that pool. I smiled uncontrollably
and my cheek smarted as the skin creased up.

I thought about what Hendy said about him knowing Uncle Rick. It made sense
now. Hendy had been looking out for me all along, pushing me into sports,
squaring up to my pop at a parents evening, getting me fit enough to try
for swim team, good ol' Hendy. He'd even planned the escape route. I had
too, I was in the school library pouring over the maps and bus timetables
as soon as I got the envelope postmarked Claremont CA.

My mind wandered to Uncle Rick and I thought of the picture in my wallet I
felt my dick twitch and roam about in my clean undies luckily there's
plenty of room in these baggy shorts! I was hard as iron as the bus jogged
along. Worried about a sticky patch showing I covered my crotch with my
magazine.

I watched the towns buzz by and folks come and go until I must have dozed
off, me waking up as coachie shouted `Dallas in 20 minutes'. The bus pulled
in and I picked up my bag and staggered off bursting for a piss and found
the facilities.  I stood at a stall, dropped my shorts to my ankles and
pissed out a huge dark yellow, smelly stream, sighing in relief. A tall,
beefy guy put me in his shadow and I looked across and up at him, his
cowboy hat and blue eyes the colour of his denim shirt smiling down at me,
`I like to see a good strong flow' and he grins, unbuckles and flops out
his dick and starts his flow.

I naturally look at his dick as he looks at mine, I feel pretty proud
comparing sizes. I finish up and give mine a shake as I feel it fatten
up. I pull my shorts up over my ass and flip my cock in, the waistband
snapping loudly. Cowboy winks at me, shakes his and tosses his expanding
weiner into his 501s, commando, and he too buttons up. I leave watching him
fix his hair in the mirror, his eyes burning into my ass as I walk out.

I find the Greyhound to LA and take my seat. I look out of the window
across the bustling depot and up moseys cowboy, he gives me a wink through
the window as his ticket is checked at the door and he lurches up the
steps, taking his hat off he drops into the seat at my side. He proffers
his hand `the names Luke, pleased to know you', I take his hand and I say
`mines Bud, likewise' and grin. Cowboy man-spreads into my space and
settles down. I get a tingle as his thighs feel warm against mine. I push
back a little ground as the bus jostles about and looking at me says,

`If I'm asleep give me a shake at Les Cruces will ya?',

`Sure will Luke' I reply. He pulls his hat over his eyes, giving me plenty
of time to appreciate his muscular tight body sculpted by his often washed
denim shirt and the bulge of his dick in the 501's showing paler where he'd
rubbed his dick. I'm pretty sure he's hard, his breathing slows as he dozes
off. I sit looking at his chest rise and fall, the outline of his abs
sometimes showing under the soft shirt. I'm as hard as iron and I grip my
crotch concealed from view by my magazine and squeeze. He pushes into my
legs as he wriggles, our thighs warm and comfy. I lift up the armrest
between us and slowly we snuggle together. The coach lights flick off and
the coach settles into a rhythm of the road as we doze. The hazy soundtrack
punctuated by the occasional cry from a child or a tooting horn.

By the time we get to Fort Worth Lukes head is warm on my shoulder and he's
snoring quietly, I snuggle up closer to him and he moves in closer and we
spend the night in this half embrace, my dick swelling and softening all
night long, our thighs pressing warm together.

The bus lights come on for Les Cruces and I nudge him awake, `Luke, Luke,
it's Les Cruces' I say. His blue eyes squinting under the harsh lights.

`Great, kid' he says, `I'm bound for El Paso, next stop'.

He notices my cheek that's bruising purple, he squeezes my bicep and says

`how did the other fella do?'

I say `it was my Pa',

He grimaced and sighed,

`you going all the way?' he says, meaning LA,

`I sure am' I say with a wink and we laugh at the corny joke and he pulls
his hat lower.

He stretches, his chest expands and I see his golden hairs through the
press stud gaps. His hand falls onto my thigh and onto my crotch. I don't
react other than my once soft dick, presses hard against his palm. I
reciprocate, feeling his hot thick shaft pumping under his 501's as I
gently squeeze. It feels nice and close in the darkness of the
journey. Dawn and El Paso comes to view. Luke rises out of his seat, `if
you're ever in town Bud, hit me up' and he passes me his ticket stub with
his number in pen on the reverse. We fist bump and I watch his tight ass in
those jeans shimmy off the bus and he's gone, melted into the crowd.

As the bus pulls out I doze and press my body into the window, the cool
glass helping in the heat. Dawn comes and goes and we stop for breakfast at
some place and then with the long days journey to LA ahead I count down the
stops to Claremont, dozing off in between.

The driver shouts `Claremont, all for Claremont'.

I grab my bag and I'm off the bus, it's 7:30pm.

The California heat hits me as I walk off the bus and into the palm tree
lined terminal.

tbc


Read more about Buds exploits in the next chapter.

comments welcomed

scribblerlad@hotmail.com