Chapter Seven
I was lying in bed, unable to sleep because I couldn't get over that Darleen person. Then, I opened my eyes, and it was the next morning, so I could sleep after all. Yeah, obviously, but my normal motivation and eagerness for work weren't present this morning. My last thought before sleeping was about Frankie's girlfriend and awakening, I have the same horrible thought: Frankie has a girlfriend!
I tried to calm myself down, but I thought how awkward yesterday afternoon was when Frankie said I could still be his boyfriend. I told him that he shouldn't waste his time worrying about me. He should be concentrating on that little woman of his. I may have sounded a bit snippy because Frankie had a hurt expression, and when he tried to muss my hair playfully, I pushed his hand away and stalked off to take a leak. That green monster, jealousy, roared in my head.
Frankie and I didn't talk much after that, and we even passed up the afternoon spit-swapping. Before Frankie left work, he came over to where I was filling out my time card, told me that I was his best buddy ever, and asked me to lend him some spit. He'd pay me back tomorrow, and then he showed me his hot smile and rubbed my shoulder. I continued to pout, lying, saying I had a headache.
What a jackass I am! How can life go from being so great to being so shitty, so fast? That's how it ended at work, and when I got to work today and parked my cool Mini Cooper, an older guy dressed in a suit got out of his boring generic Chevrolet and said, "Hey, son, that car is so cool. I'll bet you're having fun with that."
He was a nice, friendly guy, and I smiled and watched him walk into the building, thinking: he's right; I should be enjoying myself. I should love life and not get jealous of that fat Darleen person. A brief horn toot interrupts that nasty little thought of mine, and I looked at Frankie parking that shit-box Toyota of his. Frankie had a really friendly look on his cute face, and I couldn't help but smile and stare at him. His red hair stood straight up like he'd trained it to do. Huh, it was as if Frankie was shining.
My jealous dick moved on its own in my jockey shorts as I bit lightly on my lower lip. It was a beautiful morning, and the sun reflected off Frankie's round eyeglasses. He smiled at me, and he had the most wonderful smile. He hustled over like he wanted to tell me something. "Hi, Oliver!" He gave me my morning hug and then put his arm around my neck as we walked towards the rear entrance of the building. He smells so good.
Frankie is pretending nothing is different from any other morning, talking in his usual excited manner, "Oh fuck, Oliver, wait till I tell you what Rocky said; he's so fucking funny. I saw him in the parking lot last night, and he wanted to borrow ten dollars for gas. I gave it to him, asking why he didn't use his credit card and he said it was stolen three months ago. I told him to report it lost, and they'd send a new one. He didn't want to do that because the thief charged less on the card than his wife." Frankie started laughing, and I had to smile.
I sure liked the feel of the side of his body pressed against mine, the two of us rubbing together as we walked. Frankie embellished his story a little, "You know the way Rocky talks in that monotone voice. I always think he's telling me something serious, and it turns out to be a joke. Ya know what I mean, don't you, Oliver?" Then he hugged me against his great, tight, skinny body and said, "Please don't be mad, Oliver. I miss you being my best pal ever."
"I'm not mad! Nobody could be mad at you, Frankie." It hadn't taken Frankie long to make me feel better. Fuck, Darleen! I get to be with Frankie all day. As we walked to the loading dock, I casually pulled my T-shirt out to cover my boner. It's nice to have my boner back. Hell, I couldn't be mad at Frankie for long because I love him.
We went into the cafe, and Frankie lit two cigarettes and gave me one; the filter tip was wet with his spit. His fingers brushed mine when he gave me the cigarette. I gulped and faked a cough as I groped my crotch. Jesus, do I have it bad for Frankie? I may have to kill Darleen.
Frankie's blue eyes behind those little round glasses looked sparkly, alive, and always ready for a laugh. His skin is flawless and always looks wicked, clean, and new. I wanted to put my lips on his forehead again and do that stupid smoke-in-his-hair trick. I wanted to put my face against Frankie's face and wrap both my arms around his neck. Instead, we talked about the annual company picnic this Saturday. I figured the picnic was the reason Frankie finally told me about his overweight, extra-large-nosed, cow-pie-faced girlfriend. I told Frankie that I'd be bringing my girlfriend, too. Now, it was Frankie's turn to look surprised.
The only difference between my reaction to Frankie's girlfriend and Frankie's reaction to mine is that Frankie was happy for me and told me that Pattie was one lucky girl to have me as a boyfriend. He didn't appear to hate Pattie anywhere near as much as I hated Darleen. When he asked if I'd swap some spit with him in the back of the truck, I got a big smile, nodding and muttering, "Yeah, sure."
Oh my, was Frankie ever sexy today? After a minute, our cigarette breath was replaced by our regular saliva breath. Frankie has the sweetest smelling and sweetest tasting saliva. We took turns sucking each other's tongue and upper lip. We exchanged sloppy kisses, rubbed our noses together, and spread our saliva over each other's faces. Today Frankie let me hug his body, and I could feel his pole-hard boner rubbing against mine as we humped into each other's crotches. For the first time, I heard Frankie moan, and he hugged me back, and then he started sucking and licking on my neck right under my jaw, below my ear, with me holding my head back a little so he had full access.
Eat your fat heart out, Darleen; you don't have a chance. I dripped pre-cum in my jockey shorts, and I would have followed that up by shooting off hard in another minute, except we heard Rocky calling for us. "Are you two goofing off again? Where the fuck are you?"
Startled, we pulled apart, breathing fast and deep. Frankie used the palm of his hand to wipe my face, and I did the same to him. Then we both used the backs of our wrists and forearms to wipe over our faces, trying to get the spit off. We came out carrying the heaviest box on the truck. Hopefully, Rocky would think that's why we had red faces and heavy breathing.
"Just wanted to make sure you guys were on the fucking job and, for Christ's sake, use the dolly for those heavy boxes. You boys are too small to lift shit that heavy. God damn, that's all I need; a fucking workman's comp suit." Rocky said all this in his unique tone of voice, talking slowly like he had all day as if what he said wasn't important. His choice of urgent words was always contradicted by how he spoke them. It was weird and funny at the same time. Frankie and I usually had our faces scrunched up in concentration, trying to decipher Rocky's true message.
He fumbled around, trying to find something in his pockets, and finally came up with the nub of a pencil. "I got my checklist right here for the barbecue picnic. You're both going to be there, right?" We said, "Yeah, and we're bringing dates." Rocky said that two studs like us would certainly be bringing dates. He scratched something on the list he had, told us to go fuck ourselves, and off he went. We laughed at that, and then Frankie and I made faces at each other like that was too close to Rocky catching us swapping spit. I asked, "Jesus, Frankie, when was Rocky's last on the loading dock this early?" Frankie said, "Ahhh, how about never." He goosed me and we got started with the unloading.
I tasted Frankie all morning and wanted so much to be naked with him when we made out, but with him getting married and all, well, I had to believe making out naked with Frankie might be a long shot. On the other hand, his make-out and the spit-swapping this morning had risen to another level, which surprised me. Maybe Frankie doesn't want to lose me as a boyfriend for real, or maybe I'm just confused again.
That night, after work, I called Pattie, and she was excited about the picnic. The next day at work, Frankie and I continued the increased intensity of our kissing and sucking, and I was frequently very close to blowing a load in my pants. The bodily contact with him had me on the brink of climaxing all the time. I had to jack off in the men's room a couple of times that week. But it was so much fun, and the week flew by.
Saturday morning arrived, and my parents took off for their overnight trip to my Uncle's and Aunt's place in Delaware for the weekend. I waved goodbye, put the top down on the Mini, and drove over to pick up Pattie. Her seventeen-year-old brother, Myers, answered the door. This was the first time I'd seen him since that cock-teaser routine he pulled on me when I ran into him here a few weeks ago. I can't pinpoint the main reason I think he's so sexy. He's shorter than me and a little on the heavy side, plus he has that inexplicable arrogant air about him with his seemingly defiant eye-to-eye contact. Maybe that's it, his arrogance. Maybe it's those amazingly green eyes of his and that smirk he usually has on his puffy pink lips.
And maybe another reason I think he's sexy is his cute, blond, spiked haircut and that hint of a blond mustache on his top lip. Both times I've seen him, he's had a couple of zits or red blemishes on his forehead, and for some reason, they looked sexy, too. With a hot-looking brother like Myers, I wondered why Pattie wasn't hotter-looking herself, or at least cuter.
I looked at Myers for a few seconds, and his smirk faded into a phony smile, showing off more of the whitest teeth and biggest dimples imaginable. He was different, alright, definitely sexy. I strongly wanted to rub my finger in the skimpy blond fuzz on his upper lip. He said, "What's up, Dude? I forget your name." He muttered that to me dismissively and turned his back to me, leaving the door open. Following him, I walked in and told him my name. I couldn't close the door because he stood too close to me. Trying to squeeze by him, I could feel a little spit spray from his mouth when he asked, "You getting anything off my sister? Is she putting out for you yet?"
He's so close I'm almost touching him, smelling a touch of BO from his pits, trying to get by him. I mumbled, "What? Hey, no. Don't be crude." Myers wouldn't move. Instead, he leaned into me sightly so that his crotch was against my thigh, and as I gulped, he whispered, "I'll bet you aren't even interested in getting in her pants. Are you Oliver?"
His face was an inch from mine, and I would have backed away except for the expensive-looking floor lamp behind me. Myers had his hands on my waist, and even though he was three inches shorter than me, I could smell his breath. It smelled like apple juice.
"Don't you shake hands when you greet someone, Oliver?" "Huh? Oh, yeah, nice to see ya, Myers," and I held my hand out. Myers squeezed it so hard it bent me over, "Ow, oh man, what the fuck is that?"
Myers didn't respond; he just casually pulled me over to their big sofa and roughly bumped against my right hip with his big bubble-butt-ass, making me clumsily sit on the arm of the sofa, my feet off the floor.
"You're a bit of a pussy, aren't you, Oliver?" And with that, he pushed me again, and I ended up laying full out on the sofa, Myers still squeezing my hand too tightly; his other hand came to rest on my belly, under my Polo golf shirt, down close to my dick.
Pattie came downstairs and laughed, saying, "What the hell is happening? Oliver, you nut. Why are you lying on the sofa?" Myers said, "I'll help him up, Sis. He's kind of a wuss, isn't he?"
Pattie said, "No, he's not!" I tried to sit up, and Myers, with his back blocking Pattie's view, pushed his hand right under the waistband of my jockey underpants and groped my balls. I was sweating by now, our faces rubbing together. Myers, giggling quietly, gave my nuts a gentle squeeze. He had his other hand in my back pocket, grabbing and re-grabbing my butt cheek. Embarrassingly, my steel-shafted boner was poking up the front of my cargo shorts. Myers played with my pole a little as we stared into each other's eyes. I was taking little, fast breaths, panting, with a pleading expression. It all happened in ten seconds or less.
Myers, with a know-it-all smirk on, took pity on me and let go of my nuts, pulling his hand out of my shorts. I watched one of my pubic hairs float off his hand and land on the seat cushion next to me as Myers casually put his fingers up to his nose for a sniff. Then, in a very awkward maneuver, he pulled me up using the hand that was in my back pocket, grabbing a handful of my ass in the process.
Pattie laughed and explained how Myers was so funny, "And he's really strong. Don't you think, Oliver?" Getting pulled up like that required that I hold onto Myers in what amounted to a hug, with our faces rubbing together again, and he dragged his tongue across my chin just below my bottom lip. Myers whispered so low I wasn't sure I'd heard him, "You'll come to pick me up for a date one of these days. Won't you, fairy?"
"Huh, what was that, Myers?"
With me on my feet now, Myers, in a normal tone of voice, said to me, "You heard me." Pattie said, "Damn, Oliver, your shirt is all wrinkled. Just look at you. Tuck in your shirt. I swear, boys must have a wrestling match to see who the Alpha dog is. Now that we know it's my brother, can we go now, Oliver?"
As she said all that, she was trying to straighten out my shirt and tuck it in as I was turning this way and that way, trying to hide my boner. Myers shook his head, muttering, "What a couple of losers."
Pushing Pattie's hands away, I was astounded at how hot Myers was. He'd turned me on a little that first time I met him, but I have to admit he was smoking hot this time." Myers, still staring into my eyes, smirked and mouthed, "Fag." Pattie led us out the door as I quietly took a deep breath. Myers gave me a blank stare.
Holy shit. Whew, I drove away, Pattie holding her goofy hat on. She's a talker and went into this long, detailed description of her New York City shopping spree for college clothes. I used the time to try figuring out what there is about me that attracts gay bully types. Gay bullies, yes, but they also have a strong magnetism that's attractive to me. I'm attracted to them to some degree and it's both scary and exciting at the same time.
As Pattie yaks away, someone I hadn't thought of for quite some time popped into my mind. It's that next-door neighbor of mine, the twenty-year-old Edward. He's another bully with gay overtones. I'd had a dream about Edward and me a few weeks ago. It was probably brought on by my encounter with him when I returned from Wildwood. A week or so after that, he's invading my sleep. In the dream, Edward and I were both naked, and he had me wrapped in his arms and legs with my back against his chest. He was lying on his back, his long, hard cock between my legs, and him humping it up and down between my hairless legs, pushing aside my nuts with each thrust, and, of course, it's impossible not to ignore all of Edward's body hair.
I was docile, and Edward's body hair felt so soft on my back, on my bare ass, and on the back of my legs. That soft feeling made me look down and realize that almost all of me was hidden in that unreal amount of pubic-type body hair. Everything was very much exaggerated in the dream. My boner was sticking straight up in this dream, and I felt extreme ecstasy as Edward continued to pump his slippery, long, hard boner up and down in between my thighs. I was squeezing them tightly together, and as he humped, he was also stroking my boner using his lubricated fist. I was grunting in pleasure with each stroke. We shot off together, and in the dream world, I was covered in both of our cum loads. Edward was whispering words I couldn't understand. When I woke out of this dream cum was on my stomach and running down my fist as I continued stroking my cock.
I'd forgotten all about that dream until right now. Thinking about it caused me to get a chill down my back as a picture flashed through my brain. A seemingly real snapshot of Edward from some years ago, when he had that short buzzed haircut. In the snapshot, we were both naked, him lying on that old cot we had in our garage. I was young, hugging him as we lay stomach to stomach. Edward had his hand under me, between our bellies, stroking my cock with tight, fast strokes. What a scary thing to imagine. I wish I knew someone I could talk to about shit like those dreams.
Then I hear, "Are you listening to me at all, Oliver?" Pattie was using her pretend pissed-off voice as I turned off the highway onto the narrow road of the picnic grounds. Her question snapped me out of my daydreaming. "You bet, Pattie. Your clothes sound cool for college." She muttered, "Thanks, but I've been talking about my car for five minutes." "Oh, yeah. That's what I meant; your car sounds cool." I adjusted the uncomfortable position my boner was in, wondering how I got this boner.
All thoughts were pushed aside as I pulled into the Duck Pond Picnic Area and followed the signs up the long driveway to the parking lot. This park was only about a fifteen-minute drive from my house. Convenient for me, but Frankie would have a forty-five-minute drive to get here from where he lived. Pattie and I wandered to an area designated for my insurance company's use. About four hundred people would be at the picnic, and many caterers were already starting charcoal fires. It was eleven o'clock. We got cold drinks and looked for someone familiar.
Mr. Brittle, wearing a sports coat and a bowtie, waved us over and said, "Good morning, Frankie." He gave a friendly nod to Pattie, who muttered, "Frankie?" He directed us to the tables assigned to the loading dock, mailroom, and stockroom employees. I liked that he got me mixed up with Frankie. When Mr. Brittle moved on, Pattie asked me, "Who is Frankie, and who wears a sports coat to a barbecue?"
I spotted Rocky with a group of guys and girls surrounding him. Big laughs would break out, and I knew Rocky was entertaining the troops. When I got his attention, I introduced him to Pattie. Rocky said, "I'm Pleased to meet you, Paula. Sorry to say my wife couldn't make it. Saturdays, she has her yodeling lesson."
I burst out with a laugh, and Pattie looked confused. "Yodeling?" she asked. More of Rocky's guys showed up and then Frankie. I had spotted his red hair a hundred yards away, him asking Mr. Brittle something, probably directions, and then Frankie looked directly at me. His face lit up with his smile, and I watched him walking quickly towards us, leaving the large female he'd been with behind. As he got closer, I noticed he'd gotten a 'fade' haircut this morning, and he looked so crisp and new that I had a shiver run through me.
He was wearing little round blue reflector prescription sunglasses and came right up and hugged me like we do every morning. I thought he looked cooler than anybody I'd ever seen was. He was so graceful with everything; he glided to me, and we embraced. I heard someone in the group across from us mumble, "What the fuck?"
My cock was so hard by the time Frankie was done with our hug and the wet kiss on my neck that I couldn't help letting out a gasp. I quickly pulled out my Polo shirt-tails to hide my throbbing, Frankie-induced boner. Why I bother to tuck a shirt in if Frankie is going to be around is a mystery to me. The large female Frankie had left in the distance turned out to be Darleen. She finally made it up from the parking area and stormed over to where we were standing, temporarily blocking the sun.
I stared at this large girl and realized my premise, the one that maybe it was just her pictures that hadn't been very flattering, wasn't accurate. They were bad pictures, but she looked worse in person. I told myself to be nice. I mean, what the hell? Looks aren't everything, right? She's probably the nicest person I'll ever meet. Give her a chance. That's what I thought, but I was wrong there too.
I'd just finished introducing Pattie to Frankie and Frankie to Pattie when Darleen arrived huffing and puffing, out of breath from the relatively short walk from the parking lot. She ignored niceties and started right in on Frankie, "Don't you ever leave me behind like that again, Frank! You hear me, Mister? We are a 'couple' and couples arrive together. You know very well that the gals in my family tend to be on the 'big' side and we can't run marathons, it's in our genes to be big gals, so you go slow."
Darleen looked around, then, and saw people standing in our small group, most of us with our mouths hanging open, hardly believing her act. She now explained to us in a lecturing mode, "We're all small eaters in my family, but we gain weight easily and it's unhealthy for us to be running around like young children, especially in this heat. What's Frank's big rush to get up here in the first place? I mean, he sees you people every day."
When she stopped to take a breath, Frankie jumped in and was very contrite and admitted he had been rude to leave her behind like that and he was sorry, but here was his best bud, Oliver, who he'd told Darleen so much about. Frankie had his hand open, palm up, indicating that here I am, the wonderful Oliver, as if Darleen would be excited about that. I smiled as hard as I could at her. Frankie put his arm around my shoulder and did a formal introduction of me and then Pattie to Darleen. Then he introduced the rest of the group to her.
Darleen put on an insincere looking smile and, completely ignoring the introductions, she talked over Frankie, expounding on her favorite topic, "Please excuse Frank, people. My mother and I are working on his manners. No doubt it made you all feel very uncomfortable seeing him leave me behind like that. But don't let it upset you because we're making progress with him, although it's slow going. In spite of this debacle, let's just say I'm glad to make all your acquaintances."
Some mumbling about nice to meet you too, and Darleen lectures some more, "Frank does go on about this boy Oliver, that's for certain." And with that, Darleen swiveled her large head to look directly at me. It reminded me of the way an owl can turn its head almost completely around without moving its body. Darleen muttered, "I expected someone bigger, or more impressive or, I don't know. Frank goes on and on, Oliver this, Oliver that. Ha-ha, and then..." she motions to me as if... what a disappointment he is!
Taking a deep breath and trying to be nice I said, "Frankie showed me all those pictures of you on his phone, and..." Darleen cut me off doing a 'stop' motion with both hands held up in front of her, palms out. She shook her large head as if to imply, what kind of clods am I dealing with here? Then says, "Excuse me, but this is important for you to understand," and she nodded specifically at me and Pattie. "Listen up now," Darleen was in her pompous, instructional mode now, pointing her index finger in Pattie's face and then my face, and for emphasis, Darleen spoke slowly so that nitwits like Pattie and me might understand, " Frank is Frank! He's not Frankie. He was Frankie waaaay back, many years ago when he was a little boy. He's a big boy, a nineteen-years-old now, so you call him Frank. I'm going to need to insist on that."
Frankie said, "Aw, jeez, Darleen." I opened my mouth, then closed it, looked at Pattie, then Frankie and when I got my voice back I said to Darleen, "Excuse me, Ms. Hippo. Even though you're as charming as a snapping turtle in a Porta Potty, I'm afraid I can't comply with your order. I'm going to call Frankie, Frankie., BITCH!"
I said all that to myself, in my head. What I said out loud was, "Oh, sure, no problem, Darleen." Pattie had a look on her face like she just stepped barefoot in dog shit. Frankie just shook his head a few times and looked down. Darleen nodded, gave Pattie and me a hard look and said to Frankie, "I need something cold to drink right now."
As she was pulling on Frankie's arm and they drifted away, I wouldn't have been surprised if she'd grabbed Frankie by his ear pulling him away. I stared after Frankie, Rocky whispering to me, "I'll get the tire iron out of my truck if you'll break it over her fucking head."
I know, that sounds evil, but hearing Rocky say it in his unique way, made it funny so I laughed, probably too hard. Pattie asked, "What'd he say that was so funny?" I mumbled, "Ah, nothing. Something about work. Let's get a pitcher of beer, Pattie. This might be a long day." Pattie said, "Now you're talking like the wild thing I know you are." Sadly, she is serious. She actually thinks I'm the bad boy in town. I don't know where she got this idea, but when it comes up, it always makes me smile.
Pattie and I drank some beer. She is an okay person to hang-out with. I liked that she went along with things, easy going. She was surprised to see me smoking, but it was no big deal. I explained I only smoked on "company" time. She smoked a cigarette with me, smoking it like I use to; like a girl. I resisted doing the pretend cough while saying "cunt." That joke Frankie did to me that first day I smoked like a girl. After a few beers Pattie and I played in a boy/girl softball game where Rocky was the star. He really is quite a baseball player. We ate foods from all the different food stations and drank a little more beer and listened to the rock band in the open-sided dance tent they had near the pond.
It was nice meeting some of the other blue-collar workers who I don't normally see and they were good guys, some of them funny as well. We had enough beers so that we all danced a little when the music got hot, me saying a silent thank you to Cristobal again for teaching me the few dance steps I knew. Pattie mingled in with the guys' girlfriends and wives, and it was a pretty good time, but I hadn't seen Frankie since our morning hug, so that was the only really big disappointment. I would have gone looking for him except for Darleen. I was half afraid she'd beat me up.
The picnic would be going on until nine at night, so most guys were pacing themselves with the booze and I slacked off some, too. Things were good, everything considered. Around four o'clock, though, Pattie did a complete reversal, complete mood change. All of a sudden, she was getting bitchy about the heat, and they didn't have enough porta-potties for the girls, and she's mad because she forgets where she put her fucking sunglasses, and on and on with the negatives. I assumed she was drunk.
She had been surprisingly fun up till the booze took over so I gave her some slack and asked if she wanted to leave. "I'd just as soon cut out now, anyway, Pattie" I told her as I massaged her shoulder trying to calm her down. Pattie said, "You wild thing! We're going to find some place where you and me can get it ON! And I mean GET IT ON! You got that?" I told her, "Yeah, sure, but let's get to the car first, we don't want to get it on here on a picnic table."
She wanted one last cup of beer and one last look-around for her sunglasses. Getting her home was the only thing on my mind now. She got her beer and, in the process, forgot about the sunglasses. We started walking down the brick path the parking lot and to my car, Pattie walking a little bit like a robot. Just before we reached the parking lot Pattie bends over, drops her half a cup of beer, and throws up more vomit than I would have believed possible. Oh my God, I've never seen a girl throw-up before. It is not a pretty picture.
A guy throwing-up isn't a pretty picture either of course, but I just expected a girl to throw-up more daintily. Not Pattie. She was spraying it around and I had to be very nimble to escape wearing some of it. When she finally finished with the throw-up, and then the dry, heaves, she collapsed on one of the park benches and said she needed to rest. From the tone of her voice, I surmised that she'd thrown-up the "bitchy" attitude along with everything else. "I'll get you some bottled water, Pattie." She moaned, "Oh God yeah, some water."
Walking back from the main picnic area carrying three bottles of water for Pattie, I heard Frankie's voice, slightly slurred, "Oliver, over here. I'm over here." Looking toward the voice I spotted Frankie in front of a big tree fumbling with the zipper on his shorts. I went right over, and Frankie had just pulled out his long, hooded penis. He stretched it out a few times and stroked it absently while pushing at a tuft of bright red pubic hair which stuck out just about where his balls connected at the base of his dick. He pulled back on the skin and the shiny, pink head peeked out at the world, it's pee slit expanded a lot as a big, fat pee stream, hard and steaming, splatted up against the tree causing a cascade of pee droplets to bounce off the bark, all shiny and sparkly, reflecting the sunlight that filtered through the trees. Frankie groaned, "Ahhhhh. Relief at last."
I stared at the pee hole in his cock which was opened very wide allowing for the large beer-piss. Frankie's cock looked so much bigger than mine. He used his entire fist to hold it out while he peed. In an involuntary manner Frankie picked-up one foot and then the other and flinched his shoulders and shuddered as the urine poured out from his bladder. "Only one thing feels better coming out of there, right, Oliver?"
I said, "Huh? What's that Frankie?" He flicked his long, creamy colored cock and it caused a squiggly wet pee pattern on the trunk of the tree. I groped my dick as it began to firm-up. Shortly the pee stream became a small arch and then dribbles only. Frankie flicked that big dick three or four times getting the last drops of pee to fall to the ground. "Excellent to pee against a tree," Frankie said in a sing song way, and then did his big beautiful smile at me as he pushed his equipment back inside his pants. I stared at where his cock use to be and trying to speak I choked on some spit that had slipped down my windpipe.
Frankie chuckled and came the three steps over to me to put his arm around my neck to give me a quick hug, asking, "Where ya been, best buddy?"
Finally clearing my air-way by forcing a number of rough coughs out, I was able to squeak out, "Where have you been all day, Frankie? I missed you, dude." He took his arm from around my neck to pick up his can of Bud from a tree stump, took a swig and told me that Darleen had been a 'problem' all day and he didn't want me to have to put up with her. He told me that she was claiming to have a headache and she wanted to leave. Darleen's parents had driven Frankie and Darleen to the picnic, her dad being one of the sales managers for the company. He'd gotten Frankie the part-time job here.
I told Frankie about Pattie needing to go home because she'd gotten sick. The quizzical look on his face at whatever I said made me think that Frankie had had more beer than me, but I couldn't tell if he was drunk or just feeling good. He was using his free hand to grope his crotch, trying to get his pecker in just the right position for comfort. Then, in kind of a whiny voice he asked, "Could you drive me home, Oliver? I mean, I don't want to go home with Darleen and her folks. I'd like to stay longer?"
"Of course I'll give you a ride, Frankie, but first..." and we arranged where I'd meet him after I dropped Pattie off. He looked at me and gave a mischievous grin, and pointing at his crotch, he said, "I like these short pubes now, Oliver. I'm going to steal a scissor from that decorations table and you can cut off the long ones that you missed." I made a face like, "What the fuck can I say to that?" I was now thinking that Frankie may be closer to being drunk than feeling a little buzzed as I did.
He smirked his cute smirk and went off to tell Darleen what he was going to do. I had to smile imagining how that would go over with her. I gave Pattie the bottled water and she gargled and spit, then she swallowed half a bottle of water. From her purse, she got gum and chewed that. I helped her get comfortable in the Mini's small back seat, partially lying. Pattie tossed the gum away, and in a weak voice said, "You're a good guy for taking care of me like this." She was slurring her words, but the sentiment was nice. I told her, "No problem, you've been great."
One minute into the ride home Pattie fell asleep. It's a short ride as I've said, and less than fifteen minutes later I turned into Pattie's driveway. She was snoring softly, so I hit the gas to rev the Mini Cooper S creating that throaty engine sound with the muffler back-up rumble noise, which was enough to get Pattie stirring, and muttering, "What? Were, oh, we're home." I tried to be helpful getting her out of the car and up to her front door.
I'd had a number or beers myself so I was kind of looking around for Myers. I felt cocky and wanted to ask him what his act was. I wanted to try being the aggressor, but he wasn't home. Inside her house Pattie immediately lay down on the same sofa that Myers had humiliated me on earlier. Her head hit the cushion just about where my pubic hair had landed. She said she was sorry she'd drank too much and she hoped I wouldn't think too badly about her. I was magnanimous and told her not to give it a thought, no problem. I got out of there as quickly as polite behavior allowed.
Driving back to the park I felt great. I was relieved my date with Pattie was over. Frankie and me still had almost four hours of hang-out time together. Also, I was his ride home, but my plans did not include driving him home tonight. Instead, I wanted to get him to stay over-night at my house. My parents were away for the night, so opportunity knocked.
Back at the picnic, the parking lot attendant, an older fellow, insisted I leave my car in a lot that was a long walk from the area our group was at. It made me wonder why the world is full of assholes who have a tiny bit of authority and abuse it, being major pricks. Why is that?"
Oh well, I took the long walk to where Frankie and I were to meet, but no Frankie. I was late. It's a big park so I grabbed a draft beer and strolled around looking for him. More than a half hour later, I spotted his red hair bobbing around. Frankie was playing shortstop in a soft ball game. Relieved that I've found him, I sat down on the first row of the little bleacher section to watch the game.
Naturally I watched mostly Frankie. Perspiration dripped off his cute nose, his knees were bent slightly as he repeatedly hit the pocket of his baseball glove, staring in at the batter. A hard-hit grounder to his left, Frankie fielded the ball cleanly and flipped to the second baseman to start a double play that ended the inning.
"Nice play, Frankie," I yelled. He was so smooth and looked so cool I was feeling hot for him, but he didn't appear to hear me yell at him. He went right over to the little second baseman for a high five and then a hug, the same kind of hug he normally gives me. The little second baseman hugged Frankie back so hard his feet left the ground. I frowned at the second baseman as he jogged off the diamond, step by step with Frankie. Oh yeah, it was the sixteen-year-old mailroom kid, Pete.
Damn, I'd ogled that kid every time I saw him pushing the mail cart around. The major thing about Pete is his great looking ass. The most perfect boy-butt I've ever seen. The first time I saw it, I immediately got a boner. Two firm half melons, next to one another, with lift. That's what his butt cheeks reminded me of. They were prominently displayed today in Pete's nylon basketball shorts. The flimsy nylon material outlined both cheeks and his ass crack perfectly. What a sight!
Pete's shorts that hang below his knees made him look like a little kid, with the hottest ass ever. Pete was blessed with perfectly proportioned legs too, and with just the right definition in them. Not muscle bound, just shaped perfectly without any leg hair, just blond peach fuzz. The rest of Pete was thin, tight, and normal. He had a head covered with long, very curly light brown hair that formed a mop starting on top of his head and reached almost to his shoulders. Small-featured cute face and a very shy personality. If you say "Hi, Pete," he blushes.
Frankie's arm over Pete's shoulders, they walked from the baseball field, Frankie talking in his excited way and Pete looking at him and soaking-in every word. For the hell of it, I yelled, "You're up at bat, Pete." Pete looked up, got even redder in the face and went to the on-deck circle swinging a bat. Oh, he really is next to bat.
Frankie waved and smiled his wonderful smile at me, as he walked over and gave me a hug around my neck, "Where the fuck were you, dude. I waited at our spot. Are you okay?" He seemed to have sobered-up. I said, "I'm good, brother." Frankie's face was sweaty and as our cheeks slid against one another, I thought ," even Frankie's sweat smells good." With the palm of my hand, I took a swipe up his forehead and into his red hair. Frankie smiled into my eyes. Oh my God, I got it bad for Frankie. "So, everything is good, Oliver?" I told him it couldn't be better and complimented him on his double-play.
Frankie struck out for the final out of the game and his team lost, 8 to 7. The weather was hot so Pete, Frankie, and me went for cold drinks, two of us beers, and a coke for the youngster. As we walked along, I asked Pete, "How's it going?" and he blushed and mumbled, "Good, Oliver, how bout you."
It's with me if he hangs with us for a bit. Pete is like gum on Frankie's shoe, anyway. Where Frankie went, Pete followed closely. I thought, Pete and repeat. Frankie is a big talker and Pete never says anything so it was almost like he wasn't there. Plus, that extra benefit of Pete being nice to look at was a bonus. I stared at his ass. We had no plans, just walk around and goofed off.
Later, Pete and I were sitting on a wall in the shade of a huge tree just chilling out while Frankie was off getting something to eat. Sitting with Pete, he'd look at me with a mysterious look in his eyes, almost hypnotizing me. It was weirdly quiet, like we were in a sound chamber or something. Neither Pete nor I said anything, and maybe we couldn't have spoken if we'd wanted to. The birds made their soft tweeting sounds and a breeze ruffled the leaves in the trees quietly. We were away from the crowds so the crowd noise was a distant murmur. It was unreal, as my boner throbbed, I lazily played with Pete's huge head of long curly hair, and then I jumped six inches up off the wall when, out of nowhere, Frankie shouted, "You two having fun?" It scared the hell out of Pete too.
Frankie enjoyed that he startled us and was laughing. Then he said, "I got ice pops. One for my best bud, Oliver, and one for the best mailroom boy ever. That's you, Pete." I thought Pete's face would burst out into flames he blushed so hard. Later, on the outskirts of the park, we came upon three porta potties. Frankie said, "Thank God, porta-potties. I was just about to join the bears and shit in the woods."
He'd been complaining he had to take a crap for the last half hour. Frankie checked out the end toilet and stuck his head back out to say, "This one ain't too bad. If you two derelicts try to screw around with me while I'd taking care of business in here, you'll both, be dead before night fall!"
A minute later, we heard someone calling Pete's name. He said, "That's Ron Black, my ride home. He won't wait for me, so I gotta go. Tell Frankie, okay?" I nod and watched his cute ass as he jogged away. I'm horny because I got boner watching Pete's ass. What the heel? I went right in the porta-potty furthest from Frankies' and pulled out my boner to stroke it. Very soon out shot another fabulous load of cum, this one splashing up against the plastic wall of the smelly porta-potty.
Ohhh, what a great feeling, even in this outdoor toilet. Now that my horniness was temporarily taken care of, my brain started-up again and I thought, I should have offered to drive Pete home.
Frankie banged on the locked door of my porta-potty yelling, "Are both of you perverts in there?" He was laughing as he asked that. I zipped up and opened the door, "Quick, Frankie, help me! Pete fell down the hole of the shitter." Frankie got a real worried look on his face and took a step toward the porta-potty, but then stopped suddenly and gave me the double-barreled middle finger salute. "Sit on one of these and rotate."
He was smiling big-time as he said I'd got him for just a second there. Then he asked where was Pete, and I told him what I knew. After a little discussion Frankie agreed that staying at my place was the smart thing to do. I'd had too many beers to make the long round trip to Frankie's and back. We figured what the hell, a couple beers for the road, and we fished two cans of beer apiece out of a big tub of icy water and headed for my car.
Frankie said, "This day started out sucking, but overall, this was the best picnic I've ever been to". I agreed it was awesome and we laughed about the mailroom boy, Pete, and what a riot it was seeing him get tipsy from the beers. Frankie lit the last cigarette we had between us and we shared it walking to the car. The ride home was a quick one. We were quiet going inside my house, turning on some lights and feeling a little awkward being alone together here.
Frankie gave me a smirk and said, "This is an excellent idea we had, Oliver. Sleeping together, oh boy!
To be continued...
