Chapter Twenty-Three
I got dressed after Chubby got me up, and we started preparing the Sunday breakfast together. I felt dreamy thinking about last night with my boyfriend, Willie Worthington. I wish I could talk about my boyfriend with my best friend, but Chubby isn't a fan of us queers. I looked lovingly at him as he's cutting up potatoes, green peppers, and onions for our home fries while telling me a little about his Saturday night. He only talked in generalities. Ricky's father had apparently ordered too much pizza for the boys, but they managed to stuff it down their throats just the same, plus they each had a couple of beers, and old man Ortiz was cool with that.
The window-washer boys were all really loose, screwing around and ragging on each other while eating and drinking. Then, afterward, Rickie actually had a real meeting prepared. He told them to sit down and shut up, after which he critiqued each guy's performance on the job. There were only three of the four kids in Rickie's crew present. Rickie fired the window washer boy Dean earlier in the day because of the kids' poor work performance. A new kid has already been hired and starts on Monday.
Chubby says that at first, the guys were looking at each other like what the fuck is going on here? Rickie yelled at them that he wasn't fucking around anymore. He wasn't playing games, and after forty-five minutes of laying down the law, Rickie called the meeting to a close. By then, the guys knew what was expected of them, and they also knew that Rickie was taking his responsibilities as their boss seriously. A full-time crew has tighter rules. The boys on Rickie's crew had better take their responsibilities seriously or be fired.
Chubby said, "Then, finally, some good news, Dylan! Starting Monday, everyone was getting a dollar and fifty cent raise in their hourly wage!" He was now making ten dollars and fifty cents an hour, beating my hourly wage by fifty cents.
Normally, I wouldn't give a shit, and Chubby wouldn't bore me with what Rickie's doing, except Chubby and I are saving for important shit, and he needs that job. The pay increase had Chubby and the crew back in a positive frame of mind, but by now, none of the boys had any doubt who the boss was. Rickie would be firing and hiring and giving us raises. Chubby said he saw the brown-nosing start right after the meeting. The guys started treating Rickie with a lot more respect.
Chubby was quiet for a few seconds, and then he glumly added, "I don't want to lose that job, Dylan." There was more that he didn't want to talk about, but I dragged a few additional details out about Chubby's night as we continued with breakfast preparations. It seems everyone was excused except Rickie, who ordered Chubby to stay. He mumbled, "It was just ahh, I don't know. Rickie has a couple of weird things he makes me help him with. It's nothing I can't handle. Look, I only told you all this, so you won't worry, I might get fired or something. I've been in a bad mood about the job. Rickie told me to improve my attitude, so I'll suck it up and try acting less like an asshole around here too. We're getting those fucking driver's licenses this summer. I won't let you down, Dylan."
I told him I wasn't ever worried about him letting me down about anything, but I was interested in the extra things Rickie insisted Chubby help him with. Chubby brushed it off with, "Oh, for Christ's sake, Dylan. I told you it's nothing. Just some stuff you most definitely would freak out at, and you wouldn't understand." When I looked at him with a questioning expression, Chubby waved his hand dismissively, saying, "It's just technical window washing stuff. Jesus, you can be a dick sometimes, Dylan."
We were quiet for a few minutes, and then Chubby said, "I'm sorry for yelling at you. It's hard to explain to you what I need to do for that prick, but everything is going to be okay. And you're not a dick. You're my favorite homeboy of all time; that's who you are," and he squeezed my hand, asking, "Alright?" It wasn't alright, but I nodded and smiled, trusting him.
I still wondered what that extra stuff for Ricky was, but I can't push Chubby if he doesn't want to tell me. There was no talking for another minute, and then Chubby, in a very serious voice, asked, "Did you know that the first couple to be shown in bed together on TV were Fred and Wilma Flintstone?" I frowned and asked, "Who the fuck are Fred and Wilma Flintstone? Do you mean the cartoon characters?"
Chubby shrugs, "Fuck if I know." While getting the toast ready, he wanted to hear about my Saturday night of hanging out with my new friend, Willie Worthington. I didn't tell him about Willie taking me to dinner. I told him we'd gone to the movies, and then about us just chillin', and then about us getting a Starbucks drink, my first one ever. I looked over at him for some reaction, but he didn't offer any. Actually, Chubby appeared to be distracted and only half paying attention. He didn't even ask what movie we saw. I had a lie ready to tell, to if he had. I certainly wasn't going to tell him about seeing "Shelter," the gay movie we saw. As I told Chubby some of what happened last night, I intentionally made it seem slightly boring, and since Chubby wasn't interested in details anyway, it worked.
Then, going for broke, I came right out with, "Willie asked me to help him set up his new computer system this Tuesday night, so I guess I'll be over there with him in Weston on Tuesday after work." Chubby didn't get upset or even seem curious. His comment was, "Jesus, Dylan! If your friend is using you as his computer expert, he must be one dumb motherfucker where computers are concerned." I go, "Yeah, 'cause I'm no computer genius; I know that." And just like that, Tuesday is date night for me and Willie.
Not without a price to pay, though. I was sick to my stomach, hating myself for lying so much to Chubby. It gave me a seriously guilty conscience. Damn! On the other hand, Chubby isn't telling me everything there is to know about his job, either. Whatever that cretin Ricky is up to can't be a good thing. Chubby and I finished preparing the breakfast in silence. Then, for the first time in weeks, Chubby lost the coin flip for getting the coffee at Dunkin'.
During breakfast, we generally discussed with our moms what we did the past week, including me mentioning I'd been working with Carl Denton in preparation for being the school's senior newspaper editor next year and blah, blah, blah, plus I made a new friend, Willie Worthington who lives in Weston and blah, blah, blah. Chubby told some lies about the window washer boys and the Saturday night mandatory meetings that he sugar-coated, and blah, blah, blah. Chubby and I keep problems that develop in our lives between us, so our moms don't need to worry about it.
Anyway, Willie is now a known part of my life. That means I can tell any of them I'm doing this or that with Willie Worthington, and they won't be asking twenty questions about who he is. Lying by omission isn't something I'm proud of, but I'm hooked on Willie, so I've got to make it work the best way I can. Everyone has some secrets in their life... don't they?
Chubby and I did our run after breakfast, but neither of us was very talkative. You don't really need to do a lot of talking when you're running four miles in a half hour each mile. After the run, my cell phone goes off as we walk back to the house. The caller ID indicates it was Robby Dickers. He wants to hang out, but his parents are having an adult pool party, so we can't swim. Robbie and Dodger want to get away for the afternoon. After commiserating with Chubby, we agreed to meet the boys at the mall and see what popped up.
Before taking a shower, I tried again to get Chubby to open up, "You're sure everything's okay with your job, Chubby? I'd help you with any problem you might have; you know that, right?" He rubbed sweat from his forehead and said I'd be the first person he'd turn to for help if he needed it, but he doesn't need any help. I wanted to hug him so much and tell him how much he meant to me. Tell him I love him, but instead, I said, "Okay, I'll see you after a shower."
Walking to the mall, we bitched about needing to walk anywhere we went and then talked about going to Wildwood for a week later this month. The moms gave in and switched vacation spots from Cape Cod to Wildwood, New Jersey. We met Robbie and Dodger in The Mall at the Fenway hotdog stand on the second level.
After the obligatory hugs, we go to the food court, discussing the Dickers boys being in Fenway Park for last night's Red Sox game. We split up at the food court. Dodger went with Robby to get some cinnamon buns and coffee. Chubby and I weren't hungry, but we were thirsty after the walk over here, so we got a bottle of Snapple. Robby and Dodger joined us with their buns and coffee as seven guys and girls from high school showed up and there's hand slapping and some hugs.
One of the girls was Rita, who we'd run into at the DQ when I got in the fight with Babyface. Thunder thighs, the girl who bitched at me when my cigarette smoke drifted her way, wasn't with the group this time. They all got drinks, and then Rita, who knew both Robby and Chubby, alternated flirting with them. I didn't know any of the other kids, but I was getting bad vibes from a hostile, good-looking Hispanic kid.
Trailer trash Rita tells Chubby, "Jeffrey, you'll love this joke," and she tells a joke. "This family man sees an attractive woman waving at him. He goes over to her and real friendly like, the woman says, "I think you're the father of one of my kids." The man says, "Omigod, are you the stripper from my bachelor party who I fucked on the pool table with all my buddies cheering me on while your hooker girlfriend was whipping my balls with celery stalks?" She looks at him with disgust and says, "No! I'm your son's third-grade teacher".
The entire group groans and laughs. Dodger nods that we should take a walk, and that's a good idea because I don't feel like a fight today, and the Hispanic kid looks like trouble. What I ever did to him is a mystery to me. I have never seen him before, as far as I know. I shoot Chubby with my index finger and say, "I'll catch up with you later, Chub. Dodger wants to show me a tricycle he hopes he gets for Christmas."
I know that Chubby would like to come with us, but Rita starts telling another dirty joke, and Chubby is too polite to walk away. "What do you wanna do, Dylan?" Dodger asked. I replied, "Get away from that Hispanic kid, for starters. Dodger mumbles, "Let's head down that side hall, and I'll show you something interesting." It's a dead-end hall, but Dodger pushes open a door, and I follow him inside a closet for janitor supplies. I almost tripped over one of those big bucket-on-wheels things with the rollers attached for squeezing a mop out. The big ugly mop was in the bucket, too. What the fuck? "Ah, Dodger, why are we in a janitor's closet?"
Dodger and I were both wearing loose nylon basketball shorts that reached our knees. Without answering my question, he used both hands to pull down his basketball shorts and jockey shorts with one quick movement, exposing his perfect teen package that I'd seen three times already. "What the fuck is it now, Dodger?" He mutters, "I think something's wrong with my balls. You and Robby are the only ones I feel comfortable showing myself to."
That is difficult to believe, but I took an exaggerated deep breath and said, "What's wrong with them?" "Oh, I don't know. They feel swollen or something. I'm always concerned about these things. I had this scary nightmare that Robby castrated me by putting a band at the top of my nut sac as they do with animals."
After an aggravated deep breath, I pushed his scrotum with my index finger and felt his nuts. They were pretty big, alright, but they weren't swollen. Dodger goes, "One's swollen more than the other." Taking a gulping swallow, I tried to get my brain to work as he added, "Do they feel too heavy?" I cupped his nuts and saw his dick firming up. When I tried to say, "They seem normal," it came out as a wet clicking sound in my throat, so I followed up with a squeaky, "Yeah... they're normal."
Dodger stroked his dick, murmuring, "See, the sore has healed." I felt myself sliding into a trance at this surreal experience, feeling faint. Dodger was making low humming sounds until he moved his head so his lips covered mine. I could have moved my head away, but I didn't, and we kissed, his tongue against my front teeth, and then he licked back and forth on my teeth and gums, forcing my top lip and then bottom lip to stand out like they were swollen as his tongue traveled underneath them. I'm still cupping his nuts, trying to make myself drop them, and Dodger speeds the stroking on his now swollen, hard-as-cement penis.
Dodger pulled his head away, let out a long moan, stiffened his body, and humped his crotch. I dropped his scrotum and stepped aside as he fired off a long string of cum. Grunting, his now sweaty face was red as he stroked his cock in a last desperate effort to get a little more cum to pour out the pee slit of that throbbing cock head, and cum drool ran over his fingers. Gasping with surprise at how quickly it all happened, shocked he did that, I tried to think straight but forget about it. This was crazy! Dodger took a deep breath, let go of his dick, and said in a conversational voice, "Pull your pants down, Dylan. You don't want to fire off in your underpants, do you?" Looking down, I see my roaringly hard boner poking out the front of my flimsy shorts. Huh?
I was a zombie, overwhelmed by a sixteen-year-old. He muttered, "Jesus! Okay, I'll do it for you," and he pulled my pants down and put his hand around my pulsating boner, and then stroked me for thirty seconds, and I almost screamed, but he covered my mouth with his other hands as my hips humped and a glorious climax exploded as I swayed, thinking my nuts came out with that all the cum in the world during that roaringly hard climax. "Whooee, Dylan, nice one."
Staggering back against the bucket, my dick pulling from Dodger's hand, I felt exhausted, weak, embarrassed, and used, but above everything else, I felt sexy. Dodger was so hot that very few gay boys, or gay men of any age, would say no to him, and he'd chosen me. Omigod! What a stupid thing for me to think! What the fuck is wrong with me?
Still feeling dizzy, I yank up my pants, "You little pervert. Don't take advantage of me like that. I'll tell your brother..." He interrupts, "Oh, come on, Dylan! Don't try sounding all grown-up! You're not even two years older than me. You have a crush on me, don't you? Just a little one?" I'm legitimately angry at both of us. I mutter, "Please, don't flatter yourself. Pull your fucking shorts up. Perv!"
He pulled his shorts up, and I wiped my hand across his sweaty forehead, mumbling, "I'm not telling your brother, but please don't ambush me like this again, Dodger. How did you know I was gay?" I'm thinking: How fucking much willpower am I going to need around this kid in the future, though?
Dodger says, "You're gay? I didn't know that. I'm just screwing around like guys my age do. So, you're really, um, like, really a homo?" I peeked out the door to be sure no one was in sight and then walked out, telling Dodger, "Yeah, right! Keep telling yourself you're just screwing around." We go to the man's lavatory to wash up. Finished washing his hands and face, Dodger says, "We'll see, but I know one thing, and it's that you are the coolest dude I ever met. Wasn't that the hottest thing ever, Dylan?"
I want to downplay this as much as possible, mumbling, "Jerking off isn't the hottest thing ever, Dodger. Please!" That calmed Dodger down, and he said, "Okay, I know that, but don't be mean. You've never been mean. Okay, you're right. I know I'm gay. You're the only person I ever told that to, so be nice to me, okay?" Jeez, he comes right out with everything. God damn, this is awkward as hell, but now I know he's not just doing immature ball crunches; he's seriously gay.
Putting my arm across his shoulders, still playing low-key with this, I said, "We'll keep this little jerk-off fest to ourselves, but I do not want to do this again. You won't have any problem finding a willing kid your age to play gay with. Dodger appeared to consider that for a bit and then nodded, "Yeah, you're right."
We ran into Robby and Chubby at the Apple store. Man, we could all easily spend a couple of hours playing with their computer stuff. Rita and her herd of retards had a party to go to, and the four of us were invited, but it was a unanimous, hell no! After the Apple store, we wandered around evaluating this year's summer fashions... consensus, they suck! It was almost six o'clock when Robby dropped Chubby and me off. Dodger got in one last goose on my ass when I was getting out of the pick-up. I'm not complaining, but I don't think he is going to keep his word about not attacking me again. Holy shit!
Chubby and I had to get up early for work, so we got to bed around ten o'clock. It's hard to believe I'm already starting my fourth week of work. After next week, we have our two-week vacation in Wildwood, but before that, I'll get to go on at least one more date with Willie. How am I going to tell him I'll be away for two weeks after that? Maybe he'll want to rent a room in Wildwood, and I'll sneak away for a hard fucking from my boyfriend. Dreamer! Okay, my Tuesday night date with Willie, and then the Wednesday night barbecue swim party at the Dickers, where I'll be exposed to Dodger again. Oh, man! I need to handle the situation better if Dodger doesn't keep his word. And why couldn't it be Robby instead of Dodger who had the crush on me?
To be continued.....
