Date: Sun, 17 Oct 2021 05:14:00 +0000 From: butters2020 Subject: The Drive-in chapter 4, Gay, High School It costs money to maintain Nifty. If you enjoy these stories, consider donating to help keep the site up and running. You can do it here: https://donate.nifty.org/ I enjoy getting feedback. If you like the story, feel free to email me at butters2020@protonmail.com. If you didn't like the story, I don't want to hear it, so email someone else. The Drive-in Chapter Four By Butters2020 Jeff The living room was now my bedroom. I couldn't go up and down stairs so my real bedroom may as well be at the top of Mount Everest. The couch was pushed up against the wall and a hospital bed had been moved into the living room. I needed help getting in and out of it. I couldn't take baths or showers because the casts on my arm and leg would get wet. I got screws and pins holding my pelvis together. I had to quit my job at the Drive-in. I couldn't go outside. I couldn't do nothing but stay in bed. I couldn't piss or shit without someone to help me to the toilet. I'm right-handed and had to do everything with my left hand. I mean everything. Eat. Write. Jack off. The TV was on. At least I had a TV in my room. I was the only kid in Hawthorne who could say that. Superman had just caught some bank robbers. "Crime doesn't pay," he told 'em. Tell me about it. Being a peeping tom is a crime and I learned it sure didn't pay for me. See above if you don't believe me. I don't remember much of the first two days I was in the hospital. Mom said she and Bob was there when I first woke up. You'd think I'd remember that. Either the pain or the drugs washed that from my mind. The first thing I remembered with any kind of clarity was waking up and hearing my dad yelling at my mom, telling her I never would have got hurt if he had been there and her telling him it wasn't her fault that he wasn't there was it? I pretended I was still asleep. The reason I found it hard to believe that Bob was there when I woke up the day after I fell is cuz he never came to see me in the hospital after the first day. Mom said he checked in with her all the time but he never checked in with me. I don't know how I felt about that. I missed him and I wanted to see him but I didn't know what I'd say to him. He didn't know that I knew he sucked Frank's cock and I didn't aim to tell him. I figured Frank must have tricked him by getting him to smoke reefer or something and that's why he did it. Or maybe they had both been high on reefer. Why else would he do something like that? If he remembered it, he was probably too ashamed to tell anyone and if he didn't remember it, I sure wasn't gonna tell him. But goddam, now I got to be jealous of Frank, too. I mean I don't want no guy to suck me but if I was high on reefer and it wasn't my fault, that wouldn't count, right? And if it was Bob and not some queer that would try to make me be a hairdresser or get a French poodle, so much the better. Why hasn't he come to see me? It was bad enough being in prison in the living room but even prisoners got visitors. And I hated that my days of looking at the goings on at Condom Alley were over. Bob There's two volunteer sheets on the bulletin board at church. One is for the ladies to sign up to bring meals to the Riley's house. The other is for people to sign up to help with Jeff. Mrs. Riley can't afford to hire a nurse or attendant for him. She can do for him when she's there but she still has to work. He needs help getting dressed and someone needs to help him get from the hospital bed to the Laz-B-Boy and back again or he's liable to get bedsores. People also sign up to help out with chores at the house and shit like that. Everyone notices that my name ain't on the list. They all figure my name would be the first one on it. Hell, they probably think my name would be on it fifty times. At first, I tell people I have to work, otherwise I'da signed up, but I can tell they ain't buying that excuse no more. Finally, Mama flat tells me if I don't put my name down, she's gonna do it for me. "I'm cooking supper Monday. The Drive-in's closed. You can take dinner over and then stay and help take care of Jeff and do whatever Miz Riley needs doing." "Yes, ma'am." So, on Monday evening at five o'clock I knock on the Riley's front door with a tuna noodle casserole wrapped in a dish towel that ain't doing nothing to keep my hands from bursting into flame. I don't wait for Mrs. Riley to open the door, or I won't have nothing but melted stumps where my hands used to be. I balance the casserole in my left hand and open the door. "Yoohoo!" I holler as I walk in. "I'm in the kitchen, Bob!" Mrs. Riley hollers back. Jeff is in a bed in the living room. The head of the bed is cranked up so he's more sitting than lying down. He has a bunch of library books and magazines in the bed with him. "Well, hello, stranger," he says. He don't sound hateful, just put out. "Where you been?" "Umm." I don't know how to answer him. I ain't been here cuz he doesn't want me here, don't he? "I have supper for y'all," I say and take the casserole to the kitchen. "Hey, Bob! Where've you been, honey?" His mom asks the question a whole lot different than Jeff asked it. "Hey, Miz Riley. "I've been working. And I wasn't sure Jeff needed company." I know it sounds lame as I say it. "Don't you worry about that. He's going stir crazy. And believe you me, as much as he can use the company, I can use the help with him. He does not want his mother dressing and undressing him. And he's not my little boy anymore. I can't hardly lift him out of that bed to get him into the wheelchair to get him into the car or onto the couch." Now I feel bad that I ain't been her to help out. "I'm sorry. I'll be around more. I promise." She puts her hand on my cheek. "Oh, Bobby. I wasn't trying to make you feel guilty." She looked toward the living room. "He misses you, though." At least he ain't told her I'm not his best friend anymore. "You're staying for supper, aren't you?" "Yes, ma'am. And to help out after." "We eat in the living room these days. Jeff usually eats in bed but maybe you can get him on the couch?" I go back to the living room. "Your mom wants me to help you onto the couch. Is that okay?" He's staring at me. Without taking his eyes off me he hollers to the kitchen, "Can I have a pain pill?"" Mrs. Riley hollers back, "With supper! If you're on the sofa!" He nods at me. "Alright then." The bed has them metal rails on the side but they're only raised on the right side. I go over to the left side, his good side without any casts. "How do we do this?" "I can't put weight on my right leg. And I can't use a crutch or nothing with my right arm. But my shoulder is mostly okay now. I can drape it over you and you can support all my weight and kinda drag-walk me to the couch. Less'n you wanna carry me." "Hell no. If I drop you, your mama and my mama would fight over who gets to kill me." I help him ease his legs over to the side of the bed. "No offense man, but you're ripe." He looks embarrassed. "I can't take a shower. I gotta bathe with a washcloth and dishpan in this damn bed. You try doing that without getting the sheets wet." He puts his right arm around my shoulder, careful not to bump his plaster covered lower arm against me. I try not to make a face when I get a whiff of his pit. Just before he puts his left foot on the floor he stares at my face, peering at my eyes so hard I wonder if he's trying to see into the back of my eyeballs. "What?" I say. "Close your eyes," he says. "How am I supposed to walk you to the couch with my eyes closed?" "Don't be a dumbass. I don't mean while you're walking. Just close your eyes." I shut my eyes, thinking of that old rhyme. Open your mouth and close your eyes and you will get a big surprise. I doubt I'm gonna get the big surprise I used to think about and anyway his mom is in the next room. I hear him counting. When he gets to thirty, he says, "Okay you can open them." I do and he's staring at them again. I don't know what he's looking for but he seems satisfied. "Okay. Let's go." He eases onto the floor, putting all his weight onto my shoulder. I'm completely holding him up while he uses his left leg to support that side of him as I get him over to the couch. I ease him down on one side of it as Mrs. Riley comes out of the kitchen with a plate of food in each hand. She asks me to set up the card table that's over against the wall and I do. She sets up a couple of folding chairs and goes back into the kitchen for the third plate of food. I follow her and help her bring the glasses of tea back to the living room. Jeff starts his meal with a pill. Then we eat supper and talk about a lot of nothing. After dinner Mrs. Riley says she doesn't have any chores for me to do and she's going to go upstairs so me and Jeff can visit. I say, "That's kind of you, but I promised Mama I'd help you out. When I go home, she's going to ask me what all I did for you and if I say I visited with Jeff it won't be too pleasant for me. If it's all the same to you, I'm going to take Stinky here into the bathroom and give him a proper bathing." She looks worried. "Don't worry. I won't get his casts wet. But he can't get clean dabbing at himself in bed. I'm gonna set him on the commode and give him a scrubbing." Jeff is looking half mortified and half murderous and half grateful. I know that's three halves but Mr. Murray ain't here and even if he was, he already failed me in Math once so he can't do nothing to me any more except call me stupid and he's done that so many times it don't bother me anymore. Mrs. Riley says, "I'll put some towels and soap and wash cloths in the bathroom for you." She stops when she passes my chair and leans over and hugs me hard and kisses the top of my head. "When your mama asks you what chores you did, you tell her you swept the doldrums out of this house, you hear?" She goes to the linen closet. Jeff stops glaring at me long enough to say, "Hold your hand out, palm facing the ground." His voice is wobbly from the pain pill. "What the hell is wrong with you?" "Just do it," he insists. I do it. He says, "One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi." When he gets to the tenth Mississippi, he nods his head and tells me I can put my hand down. "Did I pass?" "Yes." "That's good to know. What am I being tested for?" "Reefer." "What was that shit with my eyes before?" "Seeing if your pupils was, what do you call it? Dilated." "I think you're the one smoking dope. Hold your hand out palm facing the floor," I say. "I ain't high," he says. "But I did have a sip of Uncle Jerry's recipe just before you got here. I got a jar under my pillow." Recipe AND a pain pill? He don't need to lean on me to get to the bathroom; he can probably race me there. "Why you think I been smoking reefer?" He can't answer because Mrs. Riley comes back from the bathroom. She gives me another hug and then hugs Jeff and tells him she'll come tuck him in before she goes to sleep. She goes upstairs. We just look at each other for a couple minutes without talking. "So, you gonna wash off my stink or what?" Jeff says. "I'm beginning to think you landed on your head when you fell off the roof," I say. I go help him off the couch and just like before, with me half carrying, half dragging, we get to the bathroom. I ease him onto the closed commode but it looks too easy to slide off of. "I'll be right back," I say and go get the folding chair I sat on for supper and bring it into the bathroom. I manage to get him from the toilet to the chair. I turn on the tap and when the water is hot, I fill the dish pan and set it on the toilet tank. Mrs. Riley has put some pajamas with the towel and wash cloths. Jeff's clothes have food stains on them. "Lift your arms," I say. He raises them up and says, "It's a stick up! Your money or your life!" and giggles. He's not woozy like he was in the hospital when he got the shot but he's a little more than half drunk. I decide to take the jar of recipe with me when I leave. I pull his shirt off him. Naturally I start to bone up. He's wearing sweatpants with half the right leg cut off. I untie the drawstring. "Wrap your arms around my neck and pull yourself up." He does and I reach for the waist of his sweats and yank 'em down. He ain't wearing underwear. My pecker stands up and salutes us for a job well done. We've skinny dipped at Walnut creek more times than I can count but this is the first time one of us has been naked while the other one was dressed and it feels strange. I grab one of the washcloths and put it in the hot water and wring it out. The soap isn't the Life Buoy I use but a little bar of something sweet-smelling. I rub it into the wet cloth. It makes a nice lather and I lift Jeff's good arm and start with the armpit. He closes his eyes which gives me the opportunity to gaze at his naked body. When we're swimming, I only get to catch glimpses but now I can stare, which doesn't help my boner any. That's not exactly true. It helps my boner way too much. I need something that hinders my boner, except that ain't really what I'm aiming for. I lower that arm and wet the cloth again and add more soap. I work up more lather and take his right hand, avoiding the cast on his forearm, and give it a tug. He raises it up. I see bruises on his right side where he hit the ground. I'm extra careful when I wash his right side. I gently wash his right armpit, and then tenderly run the wet cloth down his side. "That feels nice," he says. I take a fresh washcloth and run it under the tap and rinse off the soap from his sides and pits. Then I take the soapy cloth from the dishpan again. I take a deep breath and wash his lower belly. When I get to his hair and then his pecker. He says, "Hey, I can do that myself." "Then why haven't you?" I ask him. "I can smell your balls from here." I lift up his dick and wash the underside. I swear I ain't playing with it I'm just washing it but it gets thicker. He don't bone up but he plumps a little. "I can't help it." He mutters. "Don't worry about it," I say. I let go of his dick and wash his balls. They smell a LOT stronger than Frank's did. Course, Frank's balls were clean and smelled of Frank, with a bit of musk. Sniffing Frank's nuts damn near made me nut without touching myself. I've had a thing for Jeff forever but I ain't gonna lie. His balls just stink. I dip the washcloth in the water again and add more soap and give them another going over. Afore long they smell a lot better. I mean a LOT better. His scent is doing to me what Frank's smell had done to me at the Drive-in. I also notice he isn't just plump now but he's as hard as I am. Only difference is, he can't see my boner and his is right there on display. "You never answered me," he says. "Where you been? How come you ain't been by" He'd opened his eyes and was looking right at me. "What are you talking about? I thought you hate me now." He looks surprised for real. He's not faking it. "What are YOU talking about?" he says. "In the hospital you was pretty clear." "Mom says you came by that first morning but I don't remember it. What was I clear about?" I don't want to tell him. If he don't remember what he said, maybe he don't remember what he knew. "We had a fight," I finally say. "You accused me of some things. That wasn't true, by the way," I add, thinking about what he said about me daydreaming about Frank all summer. I see a glimpse of that faraway look he's been accusing me of having all summer. Or maybe it's just the pain pill and the recipe mixing together. His eyes come back into focus and he says, "I seen you, Bob." I start sweating just like I did in Frank's car. "You seen me what?" "I been watching Condom Alley from my roof. With Dad's old Tasco. I can see inside the cars just like I'm standing next to 'em." My knees feel weak and I have to sit on the edge of the lid of the toilet. I bump into the basin of water and steady it so it don't fall off. Jeff keeps going. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before. I've seen Mr. Cartwright fucking Mrs. Eustace bout every night. And Joe Hogan ruttin' on LeeAnn three different times. And I seen Frank Edey getting his cock sucked and then you grinning at him with his spooge on your chin. That's what made me fall off the roof." The only reason I don't run out of the bathroom and out the front door is because he's still naked in the folding chair and Mrs. Riley isn't able to get him dressed and back into the hospital bed. He's not just naked he still has a boner. Jeff says, "I been thinking about that a lot, Bob. It ain't right, what Frank did." What Frank did? What does he mean? I'm the one he saw sucking cock. "How did he trick you? Make you smoke reefer?" "Don't be dumb," I say. "I missed what happened next. Did he suck your dick?" I don't tell him that we kissed. I just nod my head. He looks at his hardon like he's mad at it. He even gives it a smack. "It ain't right. Frank gets his dick sucked. You get your dick sucked. If it wasn't reefer, what then? Did he get you drunk? Cuz I'm half-drunk now. How come I don't get my dick sucked? It ain't right! I ain't queer either but I'm your best friend, not Frank!" He lifts his cast covered arm. "I can't even jack off cuz I'm stuck in the living room all day, and you fucking suck Frank Edey's cock but you won't even come visit me." For the first time he seems embarrasses by his boner and put his hands over it. I say, "I'm sorry I ain't been truthful with you, Jeff. Frank didn't trick me but I'm not gonna talk about that. I really wish you wasn't drunk right now. Cuz I ain't gonna suck your dick tonight and then have you hate tomorrow me cuz I did." "I won't hate you, Bob, I promise." "That's a promise your boner is making, not you." He takes his hand off his boner and reaches for my hand with it. He pulls my hand to his pecker. "For real, I promise." Goddam him anyway. I been wanting to hold his hard cock for as long as I can remember and now here it is in my hand and he's giving me permission to do more than just hold it. But he's not in his right head. If he had just had the pain pill I might do it, but I've had his Uncle Jerry's recipe before, with no pain pill chaser. That shit's so potent it would make even Rock Hudson turn queer till he sobered up. If I suck Jeff while he's drunk on recipe the only question is who will he hate more tomorrow, him or me? I hate to do it, but I let go of his dick. I take the cloth with no soap on it and run it under the hot water and rinse off his pecker and balls and belly. I give his dick a final squeeze which makes both our boners throb. I take the towel Mrs. Riley left and dry him off, gentle and slow. He's still mad at me, which kills me even more than letting go of his dick did. I say, "I'm sorry I ain't been by to see you." "Fuck you. If you was sorry, you'd suck me." I laugh. "I wish I had a tape recorder right now. I would love to see your face tomorrow when you hear yourself saying that." He tries to glare at me but can't keep it up. "I'll be back tomorrow." I take a deep breath. "And listen. I'm taking that jar of recipe with me. If you're sober tomorrow you probably won't ask me to suck your cock. But if you do, you won't be the only one amongst me and Frank that ain't never knowed what it feels like, okay?" I hang the towel on the rack and pick up his pajama bottoms. I kneel in front of him and slide his legs into them. This puts my face right in front of his crotch which doesn't stink anymore. It smells of Jeff, and musk and a hint of that nice smelling soap and it takes all my willpower not to bury my face in his balls. Jeff One reason my parents got divorced is cuz my dad was a drunk. I'm sure lots of people know that, but it's supposed to be a big secret. He never hit Mom or anything like that but it got so bad, he'd pass out and when he woke up after lunch time, he couldn't remember anything from the night before. I sip Uncle Jerry's recipe now and then but I never got drunk like Dad did. I don't always make good decisions when I'm loopy on recipe. But I always remembered the things I did. I still don't remember that first morning in the hospital, but I blamed that on the fall and the drugs they gave me. But I remembered last night just fine. Including Bob bathing me, and me getting hard in front of him, and us talking about what him and Frank did at the Drive-in and me asking him to suck my cock. Like I said, my judgment ain't so good when I drink Uncle Jerry's recipe. But Bob said he'd do it if I asked him if I wasn't loopy on recipe. I didn't see how he could do it unless he was loopy on recipe his own self. He said he was coming over again today but he didn't say when. It wouldn't be for supper. He was working at the Drive-in tonight. Mom came into the living room with a plate of scrambled eggs and a glass of juice. I handed her the plastic jug full of piss that I filled before she came downstairs. I used to be embarrassed giving her my pee, but we both got over that. She said, "If you don't mind my saying so, Bob does a much better job washing you than you do. It doesn't smell like a barn in here anymore." "S'posing I do mind you saying it?" "Better you have offended feelings than offensive odors," she said. "Bob won't have to worry about what chores I'll ask him to do the next time he comes over. He's on permanent bath duty." I shoveled eggs in my mouth. I had no problem with Bob washing me. If I couldn't do it, better him than Mom or some stranger. Cripes, what if I threw wood in front of Mom like I did with Bob? I'd have to kill myself. That got me to thinking about what Bob said last night. I'll be damned if I'll die before getting my dick sucked. Just one time having a guy do it wouldn't be so bad. It wouldn't be like having a real queer do it. It's Bob, for Christ's sake. And he wouldn't tell nobody. And the way Frank enjoyed it, Bob seemed to know what he was doing. Mom came back from emptying my piss jug and hung it on the bedrail. "Finish your breakfast so I can put the plate in the kitchen. I'm running late." At lunch time the front door opened. "Yoohoo!" Bob sang out. "It's just me. Mom's at work," I said. Bob put a sack from Shake Shack and a couple bottles of root beer on the table by the bed. "Burgers or chili dogs?" I asked. "Chili dogs," he said, like there was any other answer. I grinned and tore into the bag. When the food was gone, he noticed the piss jug, which was a quarter full again. He went to pour it down the toilet. When he brought it back, he gestured toward the bathroom and said, "Uh, you need some sit- down time? I can take you and come get you when you're done." "I'm good," I said. "How's your arm and leg and pelvis?" "Still busted. But I didn't have to take any of the morphine tablets today. All I took was two aspirins. Honest." I pointed to the pitcher of water on the table. "And except for the root beer you brung, and some juice at breakfast, that water is all I had to drink all day. No recipe. I'm one hundred percent sober." I held my hand out, palm down toward the floor. "One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, four----" "I believe you," Bob said. "Are you asking me for something?" "I don't know. But I think we're overdue for a conversation now that I'm in my right head. Tell me the truth, Bobby, did Frank turn you queer?" "Nobody turned me anything." "How many times do I gotta tell you? I saw you and him in his car." "You don't get it Jeff. Can't nobody turn me into what I already am! You might as well ask if he turned my eyes blue or if he turned me stupid at math." "You're a liar. I've known since before we could walk." "That's right. So don't you go hating on me, Jeff Riley. You knowed me before you saw me suck Frank's cock and you loved me like I was your brother and I was queer then as I was the night you fell off the roof. I just ain't never followed through on it. I was a cocksucker when you jacked off next to me on Mermaid's Rock and you said I was the only person in the world you would do that with. I was a cocksucking queer every time we swam nekkid together in Walnut Creek and it didn't bother you none. You didn't care that I was queer when you crawled into my sleeping bag with me when you were six and was scared of the dark when we went to church camp. So don't go hating me now for being the same cocksucking queer I always been." "Well, goddam, Bob! I didn't know you was a cocksucking queer then, did I?" "But I was still me! And I'm still me now. I can't help it that the more you know about me the less you like me. What kind of bullshit is that? Guess what? My mama never passed the eleventh grade and dropped out of high school when she was fifteen. You gonna hate on her now, too, now that you know that?" Getting mad was bad for my busted arm. It made the blood throb or something. But I wasn't gonna ask him for a morphine tablet. I was gonna finish this fight in my right head. I ignored that bullshit about his mom, who he knows I love as much as I love my mom. "I just don't know why you never told me." "Put your hand out again. Are you high? I was scared, Jeff. I was afraid if you knowed you'd do what you did that day in the hospital. I can handle losing anyone in this world except you. You are the one person I couldn't tell. You're my best friend, dammit." "Then why won't you suck my cock?" "Cuz you never asked me to!" And just like that we both busted out laughing. The harder I tried to stop the more I couldn't control it. "My jug! Gimme my jug! I'm gonna piss myself!" He handed me the piss jug and I got my dick out of my PJs just in time and was able to pee in the jug instead of the bed. I put the lid back on it and handed it to him. "So, you don't hate me?" "I don't understand you. But I don't hate you. S'long as you ain't hanging around the grammar school trying to get in the pants of the little boys there." "I thought you said you knowed me your whole life." I felt like it was none of my business but now that we were talking about this shit it was like I couldn't stop. "Is Frank you boyfriend now, or what?" He shrugged. "I don't know. We only did stuff that one time. But he wants to see another movie together." "Did you kiss him?" He smiled shyly. I ain't seen him smile like that in a long time. I tried to punch his arm but he was too far away. "I'm gonna throw up." "Hey. You want me to suck your dick or not?" He stepped closer to the bed and unbuttoned my PJ shirt. I ain't no queer but it had been over a week since I nutted. When he ran his finger down my chest my dick responded. I said, "I want Susan Malone to suck my dick but she ain't here, so." He opened the pajama shirt, exposing my chest. "If the Lord Jesus Christ his self came down on a chariot pulled by angels and told Susan Malone that her only path to salvation was to suck the jiz from his sacred balls, she would choose an eternity of damnation. That girl ain't never gonna suck nobody's dick and you know it." I said, "How'm I supposed to get hard thinking about Jesus with a boner?" "It don't look like that's a problem," he said and put his hand over the tent in my PJ pants. "But if you want me to stop, we can play checkers instead." "We ain't stopping till you take my nut. But we ain't kissing. And don't you tell Frank or no one." I saw the hurt in his eyes. "I mean, I know you won't. I'm just nervous. I never done nothing like this, Bob. I never even thought of doing nothing like this." He grabbed my legs and carefully swung me over until they were hanging over the side of the bed. It hurt a little and I grimaced. "Sorry," he said. "It's okay," I told him. He took the folding chair he'd sat in last night and pulled it up to the bed and sat in it. "Spread your legs," he said. I did. He pulled my PJs off me and dropped them on the floor. My dick was half hard. He took hold of it. No one had ever touched it but me before. I felt my heart beating faster. He kissed the tip of my foreskin. "As far as telling Frank." He kissed my cock again which had grown bigger and harder. "Who I suck and who I don't suck is my business. And my business it shall stay." "Jesus, you're really doing it," I said. But he wasn't doing it no more. He still held my dick but he wasn't kissing it anymore. Instead, he was sniffing my nuts. I mean sniffing them hard like he had fainted and they was smelling salts. He moaned when he was inhaling them and I thought the same thing I said when we was on Mermaid's Rock: he's a kinky bastard. But saying kinky things about a girl what wasn't there was way different than doing kinky things to my actual ball sack. My cock was now fully hard, harder than it had ever been when it had been my hand holding it. He could be as kinky as he wanted to be. His hand gripped my cock and commenced to jacking it a hundred times slower than I did, all the time his hot breath was on my nuts as he sniffed at them. I couldn't help it and a quiet moan escaped my mouth. "Jesus, Bobby, you sure you was only an apprentice cock sucker before last week?" And then the hot breath was replaced with his tongue licking my nuts and there was nothing quiet about my moans now. I reached for his head, just like Frank had done in his car. I grabbed a clump of his hair in each hand. I didn't pull it. I just wanted to be connected to him. I remembered how Frank's lips were moving, how he was speaking to him. How was he able to do that? I couldn't talk. All I could do was moan. Bob lifted up my nuts, pulling them closer to his face. He sucked one of them into his mouth and I groaned louder. And still his hand kept jacking me so fucking slow. I wanted him to speed up. He was torturing me. I almost let go of his hair so I could grab my cock and jack it proper, but if I did, I would nut, and as bad as I needed to spooge I didn't want to do it from jacking off. I wanted to do it in a mouth. Oh fuck, who was I kidding? I wanted to do it in Bob's mouth. He let go of my dick and reached between his legs. He unzipped his fly and I saw his hand making a familiar movement, but just for a few seconds. Then his hand was back on my cock. He spit out my nut and then, FINALLY, his tongue slid up my shaft. "Oh fuck, Bobby. Oh fuck." And he hadn't even put the head in his mouth yet. His hand was playing with my balls which were still wet with his spit. He ran his tongue all over my skin, flicking it at the head of my cock that was trying to sneak out. I never been a big leaker but a little pearl of precum seeped out my piss slit and he licked it up. I gasped. I pulled at the clump of hair I still held in my hand. "Sorry," I managed to say. He looked up at me and he wasn't mad. He looked horny as fuck. Did he like it when I did that? I forced myself to wipe the Sorry out of my voice and tried an experiment. I pulled his hair once more. "Do it again. Lick the head of my cock like you did before." He gave me a wicked smile and went back to my dick and licked my piss slit and I moaned even louder. Holy fuck if he charged money for sucking dick, he'd be a millionaire. "Oh god Bobby suck me, Jesus, just do it, man. Suck my cock." I pulled at his hair again. "Suck my cock!" He pulled my foreskin down exposing the throbbing head of my dick. Instead of sucking it into his mouth he ran his tongue all around it. "ARRRRRR! OH MY GOD, YOU'RE KILLING ME!" And then he finally sucked me into his mouth. I let go his hair and grabbed handfuls of bed sheet. I twisted my head left and right crying out. "OHHH! JEEEZUS!" He had me in his mouth and was bobbing his head up and down, slobbering over my dick. I didn't know my cock could feel like this. And then the kinky sonofabitch shoved his finger inside my asshole, which was so against the rules but Jesus fucking Christ was I glad he did it! "BU BU BOBBY! BOBBY! OH MY GOD!" And then my cock just plain exploded and when it did, he pushed his finger harder inside my asshole and I just moaned louder while my spooge shot inside his mouth. I was afraid he would pull off but he didn't. He kept swallowing it and running his tongue under the ridge of my cock while it spasmed and spit more spooge and his finger just kept pushing something incredible inside my ass until my balls musta turned inside out. He was still sucking my cock when there was a pounding on the front door. Bob spit out my cock and as quick as he could without killing me, he put my legs back in the bed and covered me with the sheet. He put his dick, which was hard as steel and sticking straight out, back in his jeans, and zipped up, while he was on the way to the front door. When he opened it, Sheriff Parker was on the stoop. I saw Mrs. Parker behind the wheel of the patrol car, on account of the sheriff has epilepsy and can't get a driver's license, so she has to act as his chauffer when he's on duty. "Something wrong, Sheriff?" Bob said. "You tell me, Bobby. One of the neighbors called. Said she heard Jeff hollering like he was being kilt." He stepped inside. "You okay, Jeff?" "Yes sir. Bob brought me lunch and was helping me with my therapy exercises and I hurt my leg getting into bed. It hurt something fierce. I'm sorry I scared the neighbor." I pointed to the Shake Shack bag on the table for confirmation. Sheriff Parker nodded. He looked at Bob. "Be more careful from now on. I got better things to do than chase wild geese." "Yes, sir," Bob said. The sheriff headed back to his car but then turned around and put his finger up to the corner of his lip. "You got a bit of mayonnaise there, Bobby." Bob wiped the spooge off his face and licked it off his finger. "Thanks, Sheriff," he smiled. "I hate to waste it." Bob Jeff got his casts off his leg and arm last week. He still has pins and shit in his pelvis. He walks with a cane but the doctor says that's just temporary. Mr. Chisholm hired him back at the Drive-in but he can't cut the grass. He gets to drive around on the golf cart which is spoiling him if you ask me. He's dating a girl from church, Shirley Marx. She does NOT suck dick. Or fuck him at Condom Alley or anywhere else. She has not let him feel her titties. She has not touched his pecker either inside or outside his jeans. I know this because what Shirley Marx does or does not do to his pecker is everyone's business and everyone's business it shall stay. Turkeyneck was right about that, at least. Davey and Patrick and Jeff blab about everything they do with girls. I don't have anything to blab about what I do with girls. Me and Frank ain't exactly boyfriends but we mess around pretty regular. Do queers have boyfriends? I don't know. I'm still learning about that stuff. He still ain't let me cornhole him but he cornholed me once and I ain't gonna lie. I liked it. I figure the more Shirley don't let Jeff fuck her, the better my chance is of getting Jeff to cornhole me. He already lets me suck his cock once a week. I don't put my finger up his butt every time. I like to surprise him with it cuz godamighty, does he nut hard when I do it. You oughta hear him holler. We don't do it at his house though in case his neighbor calls Sheriff Parker again. I suck his cock at Granddaddy's cabin. It's a lot better than skinny dipping in Walnut Creek, but we still do that too. Me and Frank go to Granddaddy's cabin too. I'm about to rename it Cocksucker Cabin since we don't hardly use it for anything else anymore. Me and Frank drove to Hazelton and went to the record store. George coulda been a dick to me, the way I treated him the last time I was there. I deserved it. But he just laughed when I shrugged at him and said, "One of you, one of you." He says he wants to do a three way with me and Frank. Frank says I'll get lockjaw if I try to suck on George's cock cuz he has such a whopper but I'm more interested in George cornholing me. If it ever happens, I might tell you about it. Then again, maybe I won't. Who does or does not cornhole my ass with his whopper cock is my business and my business it shall stay. 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