Sunday morning, I couldn't wait to open my eyes and see Frankie beside me. First, I saw his glasses on the bedside little table, then Frankie's red hair on the back of his head. His back is to me now, so we moved around in our sleep. It's so exciting to wake up with him here!
I moved right beside him, touching his shoulder. With a snicker, Frankie jumped out of bed and seemed surprised he was naked, We never got around to putting our boxer short back on after I pulled them off so I could suck his cock better. Oh, fuck, that memory gave me an immediate stiffy.
Ignoring his big boner, Frankie looks at me, smiles his big smile and mutters, "I slept naked? Holy shit, that's random alright." I mumble, "Good morning. Um, we were drunk last night, but it was the most fun ever." He nods, "I don't remember some of it," as he picks up one of the boxer underwear I threw there last night. Both are mine. We put a pair on after showering.
Frankie says, "I don't believe I've ever had to piss this much before in my life." I say, "The bathroom is first door on your left." and he scurries out of my bedroom. Oh, man! It's thrilling sleeping with him and seeing him first thing in the morning. I'd like to see him first thing in the morning every day for the rest of my life. I rolled over wondering what his dream was about that caused his boner.
After a minute I started to think maybe Frankie was in my bathroom wanking his boner off. Hey, that's my job. Getting out of bed, I pad down the hall and put my ear against the bathroom door and hear his piss stream hitting the water. Haha, I guess he did have to take a wild piss. Walking back to the bedroom I can't ignore the hangover I've got. I pulled on the boxers Frankie wore to bed last night and then my old bathrobe.
When I go into the bathroom, Frankie's brushing his teeth with a frown on his face. As I wash my face and hands, Frankie talks around the toothbrush, "Please don't get the wrong idea about last night, Oliver. It was fun, drunken fun," and he handed the toothbrush to me. I mumbled, "I know," and added toothpaste, then absently began brushing my teeth, staring at Frankie. I expected him to say more about our sexy night, but he scooped handfuls of water into his mouth at the sink, rinsing out the toothpaste, then left the bathroom. Hmm?
In the bedroom, Frankie wandered around adjusting his crotch and then said it was cold in here with the air conditioning. He wasn't used to air-conditioning, so I gave him the bathrobe I was wearing. He mumbled, "Thanks." Sober, it's more awkward than it was last night drunk. I put on a T- shirt and flimsy basketball shorts, then picked-up the clothes we'd had on at the picnic and went in the hall to start the washing machine. Frankie followed, saying, "I've got a headache, and I'm hungry."
I've never known anybody who eats more than Frankie, and yet he stays just as skinny as me. We go downstairs, me in a t-shirt and shorts and Frankie in my boxer shorts and old bathrobe. I want to hug him and kiss him and lick his face, but I do none of those things. First, I give him more Tylenol tablets, take some myself, and then start the water boiling for instant coffee, asking, "What would you like to eat?"
"Oh, um, do you have orange juice, Oliver?" We have tall glasses of orange juice and then bowls of Frosted Flakes and milk for Frankie. He ate in silence for a minute as I toasted a slice of bread. Then, with milk at the corners of his mouth, chewing Frosted Flakes, Frankie said, "That kiddie sex play from last night was, ah, mostly booze related with all that beer we had. I guess I wanted to prove to you that I was cool with you being gay and all. It's a fucking awkward position to be put in. Ya know?"
I ate some dry toast and just nodded. I didn't want to talk about it, especially if we we're going to follow that line of bull shit. At least he didn't pretend he couldn't remember any of it. When the water boiled, we both had tea instead of instant coffee, and we ate and drank in silence again. It's partly my hangover, but Frankie crunching those fucking Frosted Flakes, mouthful after mouthful, started to get on my nerves and I wondered for a minute or so, if I even liked Frankie all that much. That's a long way away from I'm in love with him.
He finished off his cereal by drinking the left-over sweet milk right from the bowl and when he put the bowl down, I looked at the milk mustache on that cute face of his and thought to myself, "I'm screwed. Who am I kidding? I'm in love with this boy and, sadly, I'm never going to get to have him all for myself. He's too intent on marrying that cow just so he doesn't need to go back on his word to her. What a fucking shame for him, and for me."
Frankie asked, "Are you cool with what I'm trying to say about last night. That it was childish stuff. Basically, a circle jerk and sucking on our boners. Guys do that crap when they're thirteen, as a new adventure back then, but embarrassing doing it at our age. I don't drink hardly at all because I can't hold my liquor. You've got an excuse; you're queer and of course you'd take what I was willing to allow, but I was hammered, dude!"
In my head I was like, "fuck you, Frankie. You're lying to me and yourself and you're going to ruin all three of our lives. You barely like Darleen, never mind love her. You'll make each other miserable, and... Oh balls! I don't say any of that. Instead, I mumbled, "I'm sorry I forced myself on you. I hope we can still be best buddies."
He said, "Sure, we're best buds. You got any eggs?"
I did. Together we made him a three-eggs and cheese omelet, along with three pieces of toast. I had another cup of tea while I watched him eat his second breakfast this morning. I'm feeling very sad and a little sick to my stomach because my life is a roller coaster ride. Big highs followed by astonishingly low lows. Goddamn, I thought I'd hit the jackpot with Frankie, boyfriend-wise, for a few hours there.
After eating his second breakfast, Frankie went into the bathroom to do more bathroom business and I put our clothes in the dryer. I couldn't make myself start a conversation because I didn't know what to say and I didn't have any enthusiasm for it now, anyway. I was pissed off at Frankie, if truth be known and, generally speaking, I was as disappointed as I could ever remember being.
Even though I'm mad at him, I know I have deep feelings for him that I believe is love. If it's not, then I can't imagine what love is. But love or something else, it doesn't look like there is any way it's going to turn out good for me. Admitting this to myself, my eyes started stinging and, yeah, they were stinging with moisture which is sometimes referred to as crying. I make sure Frankie didn't see the water works.
When he was done in the bathroom, he made a telephone call and was very apologetic to the person on the other end of the line. It didn't sound like he was talking to Darleen though. Frankie seemed shook-up after the phone call; his hands were shaky. He said he forgot he was supposed to work for Darleen's uncle this morning, and the uncle was very pissed off.
"Can we get going now, Oliver?" he asked me in a quiet, shaky voice. The dryer stopped, we got dressed, and headed out to his uncle's place. It sure as hell didn't feel like we were best buds during the forty-five-minute ride. We drove with the top down, traffic and wind noise at 70 mph made it almost impossible to carry on a conversation, which was convenient, actually, because I had a strong feeling that neither of us had anything of a positive nature to say.
What a disastrous conclusion to the best day and night of my life. When life seems too good to be true, it is. I had thought we were beginning something wondrous together and then Frankie explained we were ending it. So, I guess you could say at this particular moment I'm on a roller coaster ride down to hell.
Frankie directed me where to go with me trying to memorize each turn so I'd be able to get back to the highway after dropping Frankie off. Now that we were on quiet secondary streets, off the highway, we could talk and Frankie mumbled while telling me that he had to work off some money he owed this guy, Fallon.
As it turns out, Fallon wasn't actually Darleen's uncle, but rather a friend that her uncle had introduced Frankie to last year. "To make a long story short, Oliver," he's a bookie and I stupidly lost a bet on an NCAA tournament game last March and then doubled-down on it and lost. Terrible bad luck, but what it means is I owe the guy twelve hundred dollars. He's letting me work it off." Frankie told me all this as if he could not wait to get it over with.
I asked what kind of work, and he muttered, "This and that. Personal stuff, and running some errands, that sort of thing." He explained that Fallon has a super, up-scale condo in town, but he preferred conducting his business out of a ratty looking trailer, which is where we were headed. The neighborhood got nasty quickly, and Frankie finally instructed me to turn down a gravel side road which made for a very bumpy ride in the Mini Cooper. Around a bend and there were eight or ten run-down looking trailers, all up on cinder blocks. Trash blowing around and an unpleasant cesspool smell, which was quite prevalent.
I made a face like, what stinks?" Frankie mumbles, "Yeah, ain't it lovely? Um, would you pull in at the third trailer on the left, Oliver?" I drove up slowly, watching a man walking towards us. Frankie and I are five-foot-nine and this guy was a little taller than that, plus at least ninety pounds heavier than us. I'd guess he was in his late thirties, deep tan, bald dome. His remaining hair, starting quite low on the sides and back of his head, was dark and long enough to collect in a ponytail that drooped past his shoulder blades. Very full sideburns traveled toward a soft looking jawline. He's wearing John Lennon glasses on his beak nose and both his chins bounced as he walked toward us wearing a cream colored, cashmere blazer and chocolate brown slacks with mesh loafers. I counted six gold rings, three on each hand, with a fat gold chain hanging above an open necked dark-blue, collared shirt.
The overall image was Ben Franklin in Italian clothes, showing an obviously fake smile with scorn dancing across his thin lips. Frankie was nervously fumbling with the seat belt and was just barely able to get himself standing when this guy, Fallon arrived, pulling his arm back and Frankie covered his face with both his hands as that meaty paw of Fallon's swung around and smacked the back of Frankie's head so hard Frankie's glasses flew off his face and landed on the dashboard of my car.
I yelled, "HEY!" and Frankie says, "I'm sorry, Fallon." To my astonishment, Fallon swung again and got Frankie on his right hand and half his face, "SMACK!" Fallon grunted out, "Could you fucking take any longer getting here, Nerney? I had to do two deliveries myself you dumb shit. You are going to do an extra favor for me as soon as we get inside. Aren't you, cute lips?"
Frankie kept saying he was sorry, but his car had broken down and he had to call me for a ride. Fallon was breathing hard, his face red as he swung his hand again, this time slapping the top of Frankie's head, "SMACK!"
As far as Fallon was concerned, I didn't even exist. He got Frankie behind the neck with his big, meaty left hand and started dragging him toward the trailer. I wouldn't have been more astonished if a space ship landed in front of me. This behavior was so far out of my range of experiences I was speechless, watching Fallon drag Frankie three steps up to the trailer's front door, and then inside they went with the trailer's over-sized aluminum door banging three times against the side of the trailer from Fallon's attempt to slam it shut behind him.
I sat there dazed, my heart pounding with fright. What to do? I heard loud shouting from inside the trailer, but I couldn't make-out the words. Looking over, I saw Frankie's glasses on the dash board and I slowly picked them up and even more slowly got out of the car. Frankie needed His glasses: he was very near-sighted.
My heart tried to pound itself out of my chest as I walked, at a snail's pace toward that trailer door. Up the steps and a tentative knock on the door. Silence inside now. I heard some rustling around, and then Frankie, on the other side of the door, peeks out and sees me. He buttoned his shorts with one hand and opened the door a crack with the other. I could see a bright red hand print on the side of his. face, and he had tears in his eyes he didn't even bother to hide. When the door was opened a crack, he held it opened with his hip and absently pulled what appeared to be a black pubic hair off his lip.
I still couldn't speak, lifting the glasses in Frankie's direction, I continued to silently stare at the red hand print on the side of Frankie's cute face. Everything seemed in slow-motion until he took the eyeglasses gently from my hand: then, in a fast, low whisper Frankie said, "Don't worry, Oliver. Fallon lost his temper, that's all, but he's fine now. I've got to get back to him, I mean get back to work, um, for him or, that is... I'll see you tomorrow. Please, please don't tell anyone about this or you'll really get me in trouble," and he closed the door.
Did he say, get back to him? That sounded wrong. With a puzzled expression, I did what he asked and backed away, and down the steps. Then, in a trance-like state, I walked to my car, got in, started the engine, and slowly backed away from Fallon's trailer, so I could turn around and get the fuck out of there. I didn't know what I could do about this situation, but I knew that getting out of there would be step one.
I backed into Fallon's neighbor's gravel driveway and immediately two big, mangy, black and brown dogs with big heads roamed in behind me growling. A cold chill went up my back as they slowly walked in unison around my car, as I kept backing up. The biggest dog spotted something that looked like a half a cat sticking out of a shrub and grabbed it in his long, yellow teeth and shook his head violently. The other dog started to grab for the thing and they began to fight over whatever-the-fuck that thing was. The scary, throaty growling and teeth gnashing had me almost wetting my pants. I fumbled around trying to hit the button that puts the convertible top up as that dogfight accelerated. The big problem I had now was the dogs blocking my way out of the driveway.
I blew the Mini's horn repeatedly at the dogs and shortly an old, gnarled woman with scraggly white hair and a white mustache came storming out of the trailer. She was wearing an old house dress that I could almost see through, waving a big, old rusty rake as she leaned over the railing of her trailer's front step she yelled, "Get that piece of shit car out of my fucking driveway or I'll come over there with this rake..."
I drove off the gravel driveway, over a weedy-looking vegetable garden and, with that old bitch screeching in the background, and with lots of gravel flying back towards her from my rear tires, I roared out of that shit hole with the back of the Mini swerving from side to side as I bumped up onto the trailer park's main gravel road. When I reached the blacktop road I realized I'd been shouting, "Fuck you!" over and over as loud as I could yell.
I stopped doing that and made the correct left turn, burning rubber getting the Mini Cooper S up to top speed. Sweat pouring off my face with my heart beating faster than a hummingbird's. Omigod, what a cluster fuck that entire experience had been. Holy shit, what had Frankie gotten himself involved with? Driving home I couldn't think of anything better to do about this scary situation then what Frankie had begged me to do, which was, basically, do nothing.
At home, I was still shaky. Mom and Dad were back home, so I told them I thought I was coming down with a summer cold or something. After a bowl of tomato soup and a Coke I watched a little TV and went to bed early. After a good night's sleep, I was at work early Monday morning, hoping to find that Frankie was all right, then talk with him about this situation with that animal, Fallon.
I was seriously worried me when he didn't show. Thank God, he called me on my cell phone to tell me he was on his way, and would I punch-in his time card. I did that and when Rocky came around a little later, I told him Frankie was in the shitter. We talked about how much fun the picnic had been and then off Rocky goes off to BS his way through another work day.
Frankie made it in around nine o'clock and he looked fine. I was relieved and hugged him, temporarily forgetting our conversation Sunday morning. It seems hugging was still okay, because Frankie held on to me for an extra beat or two. I glanced at his face with a questioning expression, and Frankie, in a gentle way, murmured, "Let's not talk about anything right now. " I nodded and squeezed his shoulder affectionately. When Frankie wasn't paying attention, I tried to see if he had any bruises on his neck or if he was hurt in some other way. He looked pretty much like he always looked; except he did have a bruise on either side of his neck where Fallon had held him, dragging Frankie to the trailer.
Later, I wondered if Frankie might still be willing to do our spit swapping this afternoon? Nobody can say I don't have a positive, optimist's outlook where Frankie and I are concerned.
After all our fellow blue-collar workers had finished their morning break with the cafe truck at the loading dock, Frankie and me had our break. We liked to do our breaks alone. We were each making ourselves a cup of coffee in the cafe when I asked, "When do you think we can talk about everything that happened yesterday, Frankie?" He put his coffee down and said, "Will you ever stop butting into my life, Oliver?"
He had that crying-sounding voice and he stormed outside to sit on the loading dock with his back against the building. I stood there in the cafe holding my coffee and watched him go. Sadly, I shook my head back and forth once then sat down and thought about crying, but decided not to, although it was a close call. As hard as I tried, I couldn't think of a clever way to approach Frankie, so fuck it.
I took my coffee and picked-up Frankie's coffee and went out on the dock. "You want this, Frankie?" I asked him as I held out his coffee cup. He didn't look at me, "Yeah, I'm sorry."
He fired up a cigarette, so I got my pack of Marlboro Lights out, and lit one too. We smoked and drank our coffee sitting side by side with our backs leaning up against that big building, in silence. The sun just reached over the top of the truck we were unloading and hit our faces feeling warm and somehow comforting.
We finished with the last drag on our cigarettes and, almost simultaneously, flicked our smoking butts toward a large metal trash drum ten feet away, and both butts went right in the open top. Frankie and I looked at one another with a look on our faces that said, "That was cool," we bumped fists lightly and grinned at each other some more. Frankie took our empty coffee cups inside and we went back to our unloading and storage responsibilities, with very little conversation. It was an odd feeling because every other day we're talking and joking and laughing the day away. Now I was just happy for that little grin I got from Frankie at the end of break.
As the morning turned into early afternoon, Frankie became more relaxed and would give a quick squeeze to my shoulder or pat my butt or give me a nice smile as we worked together in the hot summer weather. We hadn't had lunch yet, taking an item out of its cardboard box when I stopped working, and said, "Frankie, this is a fucking emergency and I'm not kidding." He looked up at me with a concerned look on his face and I said, "I need a hug, Frankie. Right now, too, or I might get sick to my stomach right here all over these boxes."
He gave a little grin and opened his arms and inside of them I went. I don't know who was hugging who the hardest, but it sure felt as good as anything I could think of. The hug was working out pretty good, with the sides of our faces together, so I rubbed my lips across his cheek. Not abruptly, but gently, he pulled his head away, and quietly said, "Give me some time to sort things out in my head. Okay, Oliver." I said, "Okay", but I kissed him anyway. He didn't kiss back, but he didn't pull away either. Encouraging!
We worked another half hour, mostly in silence, and then Frankie said we should probably eat our lunch now. Weeks ago, we'd given up on the main cafeteria because it was too far from the loading dock and we felt it was a little too pricey for us. Plus, just like for our breaks, we preferred to eat lunch just the two of us, whenever possible. Our mothers packed our lunches each morning, like we were school kids again. In the cafe we took our brown bags out of the mini refrigerator and sat down together at the small round table. As usual, I flipped a coin to see who bought the drinks, and I lost again. Doing those kinds of things, ones that had become routine for us over the last six weeks, was a nice feeling. I bought us bottles of Snapple from the vending machine and we looked into our lunch bags.
"What have you got Oliver?" Frankie asked, and I said, "Egg salad on bulky roll. How 'bout you?" He said, "Tuna and tomato on toast." We exchanged sandwiches without another word. It was so odd for the two of us to have this quiet time together; it's unnerving to me. Usually we were both talking at each other at the same time, or making each other spit his sandwich out by saying something outlandish, or making a face or pretending to pick our nose while eating our sandwich or any crazy thing you can think of. Now we ate in silence.
In the silence I was looking down reading the label on my Snapple bottle and when I looked up Frankie was staring at me. I said, "What?" and with his mouth full of egg salad sandwich, Frankie said, "Don't get the wrong idea, but I believe you are the cutest guy I've ever seen." I squinted and made a face expecting some smart-ass remark to follow, but instead Frankie added, "Actually, I'm just stating the obvious. I mean, fuck; you look in mirrors, don't ya?"
I just shook my head with my mouth working, but with no words coming out. That's a condition I find myself in sometimes when I'm with Frankie. After what we'd just been through Sunday morning and today, this has to be one of the last things in the world I would have expected Frankie to say. I'd have to go way back to my days with Tyler to come up with anyone as unpredictable as Frankie. There are any number of things about my deceased childhood friend, Tyler, that Frankie reminds me of. It's a little scary sometimes, but also wonderful and emotional for me, too. I could feel my eyes stinging and my lip trying to tremble, but not just because Frankie said something sweet to me, but also because it reminded me so forcefully of Tyler. Frankie had made his statement and he went back to eating his lunch, which was actually my lunch.
Waiting for that stinging feeling to leave my eyes, I said, "Not to put too fine a point on this, but I've always felt you were the cutest boy I've ever seen, and I have looked in a mirror, so that includes me, too. But, don't take that the wrong way."
Frankie shook his head with a wry grin on his face and mumbled, "I don't have any fucking idea why I just said that dumb-ass gay thing to you about you being cute, but I guess I meant it. You get me crazy, Oliver, you really do." He said that in a way that didn't seem like he meant it angrily, so I said, "Good," and we finished each other's lunches and went back to work.
We were back in the cafe at 3:30 for our afternoon break drinking Cokes and now talking more, although Frankie didn't want to talk about him and me or about Fallon and the money, he owed. We talked about other stuff like Frankie and Darleen heading back for their sophomore year at West Chester University in September. We talked about that university being only a one-hour drive from the University Of Pennsylvania where I'll be going. We talked about what we'd be doing after this job was finished.
I told Frankie my plan to visit my brother in Seattle. I'd already made the reservation using the plane ticket Christian had given be at the beginning of the Summer, but I haven't told Christian about it yet. I'm planning to just show up and surprise him. Frankie, in a dejected manner, told me he'd be working full time for Fallon until college started, and then we stopped talking and got back to work.
Just before we left for the day, I told Frankie how much I missed swapping spit with him and he reminded me that he was trying to work through things in his head and that I should be patient, but maybe not too optimistic about the spit swapping. We got more into our old joking ways Tuesday and Wednesday with some goosing and goofing and such. Yeah, some good old ass grabbing too, and some type of bodily contact that most people would call hugging.
Still, by the end of work Thursday, there had still been nothing in the way of kissing or spit swapping, and next week was our last week working here. We walked out of work together Thursday, heading for the parking lot, with me trying to think of a way to mention again about the spit swapping. Finally, without a better plan, I grabbed Frankie as he was getting in his car and with my arm around his neck I said, "God damn, Frankie, can't we do some of our famous spit swapping before this gig ends next Friday?
Frankie's body had felt taut as a steel spring when I first put my arm around his neck, but right after I'd said my piece he relaxed and, probably to change the subject he ran his fingers through the hair on the back of my head and said, "You need a haircut, Oliver." I told him I was thinking about waiting until college started so I could have Alexander give me a haircut.
Frankie asked me in a real quiet voice if Alexander and me were going to pick-up where we left off in Wildwood, and he finished with, "I mean about being gay together" In an equally quiet voice, I said, "Not if you don't want me to." Frankie thought about that for a few seconds and apparently decided to by-pass that, and he returned to my original spit-swapping topic, "If you promise not to let us get too carried away, we'll do our world-famous spit swapping tomorrow; just like we use to do it, Oliver."
Smiling, I mumbled, "Well, okay then. Yes!"
He rubbed my head some more and said, "Okay then. That's settled," and I let go of him. We waved at each other as we drove off and Frankie's face had on that beautiful smile of his. Oh boy, spit swapping tomorrow! My boner ached just like in the good old days.
Friday morning it was raining hard when I woke up and the forecast was for more of the same all day. Rain appears to cause people to forget how to drive. They do even stupider things than normal, and big traffic jams occur. I was almost late getting to work and as a result I had to park further away than normal, but I had spit swapping on my mind, so the rain and these other annoyances were of no real concern to me. Running for the building in the rain, I got pretty wet which was no concern to me either, but then I saw something that could be a real concern to me. It was the little group of people in our cafe that I saw through the glass door as I ran up to it. Usually there is either nobody or just Frankie there when I come in. Today, it was Frankie, Rocky, and the two regular loading dock guys, Howard and Bart. What the fuck do they want?
I got a big "Hello" from everyone and a look from Frankie that indicated something not too cool was happening, but what? I soon found out that it was that the two regular loading dock workers would be working with Frankie and me on a special truck unload that was due to arrive any minute. All five of us would unload this truck so that the driver could be back on the road by noon. I shook my head a little because there wouldn't be any spit swapping this morning. On the plus side, we still had this afternoon and I was determined to make the best of the situation then.
Howard and Bart are big strong men in their thirties, both married. The plan was for the five of us to unload the special truck, but when the truck pulled up to the dock, Rocky says, "Oops. Time for me to head on out of here before I accidentally lift something and get this crotch rot acting up again."
As we all exchange knowing looks, Rocky quickly walks away groping his crotch and yelling something about assholes that none of us could catch. Then, man oh man, Howard and Bart can really work! I've got to give them their props. They each carried stuff off the truck themselves that Frankie and I would be helping each other get on a dolly, never mind carrying it. At a few minutes before noon, Rocky came back and saw was pleased, but we'd done too good a job as it turns out, because Rocky reassigned Bart and Howard back to their normal inside duties, saying that Frankie and me could finish on time without the other two.
"Good job, boys." and off went Rocky with Bart and Howard in tow. The rain hadn't let up and both Frankie and I were pretty wet from working on the portion of the loading dock that wasn't under the over-hang. We finished almost on time, and the driver took off so we had our lunch and went back to our regular responsibilities.
During lunch hour there was a potential for too many people wandering in and out of the cafe via the loading dock which prevented Frankie and me from spit swapping. That left me looking forward to some swapping during our afternoon break when it's always just Frankie and me. I got rain-soaked picking up a box I dropped off the dock, but yelled for Frankie to stay inside, but I was pretty wet.
As afternoon break got closer, I started breathing in little short bursts, horny and looking over at Frankie with anticipation of kissing and hugging, while exchanging spit. I was impatient thinking about how we hadn't tasted each other's spit in almost a week. My heart was going bump, bump, bump and my dick was semi-hard thinking about what was coming up. I missed the feel and taste and smell of him more than I can explain. It was a physical thig; .a real, honest to God need. Ever since Cristobal had exposed me to the reality of sex with another boy, I needed it, but I wasn't getting much of it. A lot of teasing, and not much action.
At one point I had to stop working for a second and get myself composed. There was a kind of scary feeling in the pit of my stomach, too. Frankie, with his short red hair flattened against his head by the rain, looked even younger than usual. He came over to me in the truck bed and asked if I was alright. He said I was pale. His sincerely-concerned-face got me and I fell into him, my arms around his waist saying, "I miss being with you, Frankie. know you don't want to hear this, but I love you."
My heart was pounding as Frankie wrapped his arms around me and gently rocked me sideways in a nice hug. He kissed the side of my neck and said, "I know you do, Oliver. I know." He held me for a minute or so and then he pulled my chin up with his left hand's fingers and our lips kissed together as my cock got as hard as it can get. Frankie put his tongue in my mouth and licked my tongue, then slowly scrapped saliva off his tongue against the bottom of my top teeth until I had to swallow a mouthful of his spit.
I licked back at his mouth and we did sloppy kissed until I felt that big cock of Frankie's, all boned-up, pressing against the inside of his dungaree shorts, the head of it reaching to the very top of the waistband. I moaned and we moved our noses back and forth against each other and then Frankie licked up the front of my nose and down on my chin and on my neck right under my chin.
Gasping for breath, my boner leaking, I humped up against his leg. He reached down and undid the top snap on my cargo shorts so he could put his hand in my boxers and stroked my cock using his thumb, index finger, and middle finger like he did in the shower last Saturday night. After six strokes, I fired off a hard string of cum in my boxers and I almost collapsed with the follow-up shot, squealing a sound I'd never made before.
Frankie pulled out his hand and put his fingers, covered with cum, in my mouth and I sucked them clean. When I was breathing regularly again, Frankie put his hands on my shoulders with some subtle pressure and I went down on my knees and pulled his dungaree shorts down passed his slim hips without even unbuttoning them.
Frankie, highly aroused, let out a long, "Oooooh," as I pulled down his jockey shorts and buried my nose in his crotch. I licked his belly and stroked his long boner. I licked his balls like a dog licking a bowl of ice cream. My wet tongue started under his scrotum and continued around and up the front of it with laps that moved his nuts around in their sac. My hands rubbed up and down his thin, strong, hairless thighs, licking from his crotch to his knees and back, doing it slowly, over and over. When those big nuts of Frankies' were dripping with my saliva I stopped rubbing his legs and used both hands to push both his fat nuts in my mouth.
Oh my God, I just managed to get them in, gagging a little at first, but I quickly got used to it and I worked my tongue on the underside of his balls as best I could. Frankie moaning, "Aaah. Ohhh!" Stroking his boner along with all the sucking, I could feel his balls tighten-up noticeably. More sucking and stroking until cum exploded from his nuts, shooting up that long pole of Frankie's, shooting straight up in the air, then gravity took over and that big load of cum came right back down and landed in my wet hair and forehead, mixing with the rain on my face, his cum drooled down to finally drip, drip, drip off the side of my chin. I struggled to get Frankie's nuts out of my mouth so I could breathe again.
Frankie was holding onto my head with both hands, grunting, "Ah! Ah! Ah!" with each spurt of cum. When his nuts were empty, we plopped down on the floor of the truck and put our arms around each other. In a minute, Frankie said, "You went too far again, Oliver."
"I know, and I'm sorry, but I can't resist you." Frankie sort of patted my wet head like I actually was a dog and then just barely above a whisper he said, "What am I going to do, Oliver?" I shook my head slowly, and thought: What indeed?"
We'd missed out on each other for almost a whole week, which is why our reunion hadn't lasted very long. We shot off cum loads quickly, climaxed too fast, but the sensations had been enormous and the after-shock was this feeling of exhaustion we were both experiencing. We sat there holding onto each other for a few minutes until I said, "How 'bout we go in the cafe for a coke?" Frankie said, "Oliver, FYI, you have my cum in your hair, and it's running down your face. Plus, you have a big load of your own cum in your fucking cargo shorts. Let's clean-up the cum first, and then the Cokes. Huh?"
We both were giggling as we cleaned up in the lavatory as best we could. During our break we stared at one another, not sure what to say. The rest of the afternoon dragged to a finish and we did our old-time hug goodbye for the weekend. Frankie had already told me he was taking Darleen to a water park on Saturday and to a Pirates baseball game on Sunday so I didn't even think about him and me getting together.
My own pretend girlfriend, Pattie, was mad at me for not seeing her all week, but she couldn't make too much of a big deal about it because of that drunken throw-up demonstration at the picnic. She didn't want me bringing that up. I figured I'd take her to the movies Saturday night, but tonight I wanted to go out with a couple of guys from the swim team. I wasn't sure if Frankie and me were back to last Saturday night level of boyfriend activities, or just back to spit swapping, or what. Whatever, this afternoon was pretty nice,
With Frankie I never knew what the next day would bring. He was obviously confused about what he should do, but we both knew he wanted to be with me. Getting Frankie to do something about that, however, was the roadblock. He didn't want to disappoint Darleen, or me, so...
Hell, Frankie doesn't want to disappoint anybody ever, except he doesn't seem to mind disappointing himself. Well, I'll have all next week to try and help Frankie see the light. Tonight, with two guys, I'm off to attend a bachelor party for the assistant swimming coach of my high school swim team I was a member of for the last three years.
Tomorrow night Pattie and me to the movies. Sounds boring when all I really want, is to be with Frankie.
to be continued.....
