The Summer of 2004 Ch. 05

I drove home exhausted from the sexual intensity and violation of the day. My clothes, skin and taste buds were sticky and reeking from our commingled ejaculate, juices and raw funk. But I was hard and loving it. As I pulled into my driveway, dad was washing his Beamer. I didn't want to stop to talk; I was afraid he'd smell the scent of another man all over me. As I held the emergency brake, I thought of Robert's hard cock in my hand. I thought of how I had taken this stud's manhood into my mouth. My tool stirred in remembrance of the day, and as I stepped out of the car my dad was waving to me with his movie star smile.

I really love my dad. Always have admired him, always will. In a lot of ways he reminds me of Robert. He's very handsome and his body is well-developed, not bulky or overly muscular, just manly and taut. I always figured my dad had a big cock because there was always a healthy extrusion in his pants, no matter what type of pants he'd wear. He was wearing khakis today, which usually accentuated his manhood. He was squatting down to dip the sponge in the soapy water when I caught a glimpse of his healthy mound. I wondered exactly what his cock looked like and if he'd ever had a gay thought in his life. I wondered why his and most every other cock I'd looked at hung to the man's right.

I love him so much, as most sons would, but the thought of him finding out I was gay really scared me. I don't think I could live if my dad rejected me. "Whatdya say there Mike?"

"Hi Dad."

"That Marine seems to be working you to death. You look a little under the weather."

"Oh, it's not that bad, but today I'm kinda tired. Listen, is Mom cooking dinner tonight? I'm starved."

"Yes sir. It'll be ready in half hour. Hey Mike, my associate Bill Levilio has this knockout of a daughter. She came to the office today. She's home from her first year at Vassar. Would you like to meet her?"

I was accustomed to just about everybody trying to fix me up, but this was kind of unexpected from Dad. I sensed, with dread, that he too was picking up on my taste for a man's cock, for his ass. "Oh, um, I'm...sure, sometime."

"Listen Mike, the years are going to go by very quickly. I don't want you wasting your summers. You know I don't really poke into your affairs but I think you need to, you know, get out more." His tone was a little too concerned at this point. I was convinced then he definitely thought there was something wrong, something queer with me! I wondered if he had heard any gossip about my brawl at McBirdy's or the reason I wasn't guarding at the lake this summer.

Was he suggesting to me he was afraid I was gay, or was he just afraid I was being too anti-social? Damn, why don't I just fess up and tell him already. Why don't I just say the truth, "No dad, I'm not going to date her because I'm not into snatch. As a matter of fact, you want to know how I spent the day? I ate out the ass and crotch and cock of a STUDLY United States Marine! And you know what? I loved it! I loved having my tongue up his ass. I loved swallowing his semen and gagging on his meat. I loved smelling his balls and licking the entire crack of his ass! I loved sucking on his asshole and tasting beads of salty sweat. I loved having him slap my face with his meat and shove it through my lips and pull my head down onto him.

"And tomorrow I'm planning on taking his cock up my ass! I'm planning on getting on all fours and having my boss, this crazy, sexy Marine stud, get behind me and shove his hard, 8 inch, throbbing cock straight up my ass. I want him to fuck me like a bitch! That's right dad. I want to be moaning and writhing with pleasure as this uber stud, more man than I've ever imagined, takes my body and uses it for his pent-up, sexual pleasure. I want to please him dad. I want to smell him, taste him, touch him and give my soul to him. So please stop with this bullshit about insisting I take out your associate's daughter, just so you can look good at the office and I can look good at the lake. I don't CARE about that posturing, Hallmark-postcard-life-bullshit dad. I want real fulfillment. I want Robert Andrews to take my ass and bust my cherry. I want Robert Andrews to shove his cock down my thoat and cum! So lay OFF of me once and for ALL!"

"I do alright, dad," I countered. "But thanks, I'll um, give her a call sometime."

"Okay buddy, I just want you to enjoy life."

"I am dad, believe me, this is a good summer already. Okay, I gotta wash up for dinner."

Showering was an erotic excursion, as it had been ever since I first lay eyes on Robert. I lubed up my ass with as much hair conditioner as would fit in my hand. Then it was time to take the bottle of shampoo into my muscular, tight, athletic ass. It was a thick bottle so I had to ease it in. With a circular motion I could get it to penetrate. Trying to go straight in just hurt like hell. But as I did the circular bit with it, it felt good and the bottle started to slide in.

I didn't realize how sensitive and what a turn on my own ass could be! Once I got the bottle in about two inches, I stopped. It hurt too much to continue so I just pumped gently in and out. I moaned with pain and pleasure, and, as I'd done a zillion times that summer, I played with my well-endowed, envy-of-the-locker-room-monster while envisioning Robert fucking me senseless. The hot water from the shower enveloping my tight, baseball player physique became Robert's ejaculate. That vision caused me to spunk violently; my explosion knocked over a nearly empty bottle of Herbal Essence conditioner. My drip splattered the tiles as my thoughts fixated on Robert's menacing meat. "What would tomorrow be like?"

At dinner, the conversation was about my oldest brother Mark's accomplishments in law school. He had won an award for best trial attorney and my parents were very excited to share this news. But their enthusiasm seemed to foretell something else. Nobody could be that excited over one award.

"Boys," my mother beamed. It was my 17 year old brother Tommy and my 15 year old brother Jason and me listening. "Your brother Mark and Wendy are engaged!"

"Wow, that's great," I luke-warmly offered. before silently mouthing "asshole." I was getting tired of Mark always being the center of attention. Why is he the golden boy? Because he fucks pussy? I'm sick of the unfairness of it all. I'm way better at sports than he is, I'm better looking, have a much better body, and I'm even smarter. But my dad seems to cream in his pants over everything Mark does. Mark this, Mark that. What about ME? Ever since I stopped pitching no-hitters, and ever since I've not been seen in the company of any steady girl my dad has decided Mark is the favorite son.

"Awesome!" Jason, enthusiastically, answered.

Tommy's input was a bit more irreverent than mine: "She knocked up?"

My mom admonished him: "Oh Tommy, that's horrible!"

"No, weddings are horrible," I thought. I never liked them. I always had to find a date and they just made me uncomfortable all around. I guess the part about having to catch the garter belt, "All single men onto the dance floor," that type of shit. It just seemed pointless and discomforting. No wonder they usually had open bars. People needed them to escape from these bizarre carnival rituals. Oh well, I've gotten through lots of friends' and cousins' weddings. I'll get through this one, too.

I thought of Derek's brother's upcoming wedding. I'm definitely not honoring my R.S.V.P. after the fight at McBirdy's. I still feel ashamed, but at the same time I want to say to them, "You're RIGHT. I DO like cock! Yes, Derek, I HAVE checked out your package a thousand times over the years and beat my meat dreaming about you sitting on my face. And when I slept over one weekend in the 8th grade, I ejaculated in your bathroom while I had a pair of your worn underwear sitting on my face. That's right man. I was smelling your used underwear, and getting off on the aroma of your testes. I came hard that night, Derek, REAL hard, as I sucked the sweat out of your underwear and shot upwards onto your Mom's new hand towels. And Derek, guess what, I'm currently blowing a studly Marine, handsomer and more man than you'll ever be. I was on my knees today as a matter of fact, submitting to him, placing my tongue inside his ass and swallowing his semen. And I LOVED it."

"Earth to Mike, earth to Mike," my dad brought me back.

"Sometime next year will be the big day," my mom continued. "The exact date isn't set, well, he only gave Wendy the ring last night."

"When are YOU getting married, Mike?" I wasn't sure if Tommy was zinging me or genuinely wondering. He was at the age where he'd either be fingering pussy or sucking his first cock. Fortunately for him the former applied to his life. He'd have no reason to have his heart in his throat in the boys' locker room, terrified that he might pop a woody at the sight of his buddies' equipment. He would have no fear at his senior prom that his pseudo date might want some apres prom activity besides coffee at a diner and a goodnight kiss. He might not be the all-star I was in high school with local reporters treating me like Derek Jeter, but, for the absence of the sheer hell that being gay can be, Tommy had it made.

I answered his nuptial inquiry with a standard good offense, making em laugh: "Whenever I find someone as sexy as Pamela Andrews!"

"Anderson," Jason rejoined.

"What?"

"Anderson, Pamela Anderson. You said Andrews."

"Anderson, whatever, pass the potatoes."

Shit, my dad knows that Robert's last name is Andrews. I hope he didn't pick up on my Freudian slip.

My dad and mom laughed. "Well Mike," dad answered, "You're not going to find Pamela Anderson by hanging out with a sweaty Marine all day. (DID he pick up on it?) All work and no play makes Mikey a flaky guy."

Flaky is a euphemism for gay, isn't it? He studied me, and at that moment I was positive that he knew. He knew my love for cock! He knew my love for the smell of Robert's balls, for the taste of Robert's ass. He knew my passion for all things male, my own handsome athletic body, Robert's handsome body, and the manly manner in which we explore and pleasure each other.

My thoughts raced as I gulped iced-tea: "Yeah, you're right Dad. I LOVE the masculinity of Robert. I love my own masculinity. I even love yours Dad. Although not consciously, on some forbidden, hidden level that only reveals itself in my fucked up dreams, I want your cock and balls and ass too! I have fantasized about you dad. I've checked out your hefty mound in your pants since I'm 12.

"At first I admired it, thinking how much I wanted my cock to grow someday to that size. Now it has. But I'm still checking you out, and I'm thinking of your cock when I sleep. In my dreams I'm swallowing your semen, dad. I wake up so ashamed and disturbed by it, but I also wake up GRANITE HARD, harder than I ever was until I met Robert. How do you like that, Dad? Not only is your All-Star player son a cocksucking queer, but on some level that I deny I probably would love to kneel before you, my own father, yes, you dad, and suck your bulging, elongated, superior prick. I've watched your ass, and on a conscious level told myself how muscular it was, but on a dream level I know, deep down I shamefully know, that I want to push my face into that ass!

"I would probably want you, Dad, to bend me over and plow me. I would like, on some level, to feel your stubble on my face as you kiss me and shove your tongue into my mouth as you force your cock into my ass. So stop with your Matchmaker, Matchmaker find me a girl bullshit! What part of I want COCK don't you understand? I want Robert's semen. I secretly want YOU to fuck the living shit out me. I want you to ejaculate onto my face and in my mouth. I want you to pull me, your second born son, down onto your massive organ. I want you to brutally slap my face with your leaking, manly tool, pummelling my face with that raw, savage meat again and again and again.

"I want you to take the back of my head and shove me down, shove that taboo cock of yours into my mouth and skull fuck me till I'm choking and in tears of incestuous regret and sexual ecstacy! I am so crazy in love with Robert because subconsciously he reminds me of YOU. I LOVE YOU DAD! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU! And I can't stand the thought of you rejecting me! I can't stand your aloofness; I'm feeling you're ashamed of me. It's killing me how we've lost our connection.

"I'm as good as Mark, damn-it! Please, dad, ask me to play catch with you, let's go to the old field and just hit some out to each other, just you and me. Let's go fishing together. Come on dad, punch me in the arm, put me in a little headlock and tassle my hair, squeeze my shoulder, wrap your arms around me. Tell me you're incredibly proud of me, that I'm your favorite son, that you love me. Tell me you don't care if I'm gay!" "I'm not a flaky guy, dad," I said it facing him, clearly condemning his choice of words with its nasty implication. "Just 'cause I'm working a lot of hours, I don't think that makes me a flake. I told ya, the guy pays me good money, twice what I was getting guarding at the lake. I still have a social life, don't worry 'bout me, dad."

"Alright son," he responded yet I felt a challenge coming on. "Just let me know when I can tell my associate when you'd like to meet her."

OH WOULD YOU GET OFF MY FUCKING CASE, ALREADY!

"Sure Dad, maybe next weekend, if she's hot."

After dinner, Rich called me and asked if I'd like to go see a movie. He was very warm over the phone. He really has been a great friend, ever since we met in the second grade. I really appreciate how considerate he's been to me since the infamous brawl at McBirdy's. I really just felt like staying home, playing XBOX and jerking off, replaying Robert in my head. But I wanted to keep the lines of communication open with my old buddies. I didn't want them to think that what Derek said was true, that I was some faggot who has become an anti-social loner.

So I told Rich I'd meet him at the multiplex. We'd be seeing "Spiderman." He'd undoubtedly be lusting for Kirsten Dunst and I'd be sure and make a point of saying how "nice" her tits were. Secretly I'd be finding Toby cute in his tights. Going to the movies with Rich was the most socializing I did since the brawl night. I was being worked hard all day (not just sexually!) and hanging home suited me fine. But I did appreciate Rich's friendship. It helped assuage my nagging feelings of being an isolated queer.

After the movie and some bullshitting with Rich about the state of Steinbrenner and his New York Yankees, and how a lot of people missed me at the lake this year (Was he serious or just being kind?), I went home and jerked my meat. Toby didn't do much for me in his tights. I couldn't stop thinking of Robert. Damn, his whole being was shaking me to the core. And tomorrow I'd be surrendering my ass to him!

I woke up earlier than usual the following morning, perhaps due to my exhilaration and anticipation of the rite of passage I'd be partaking in that day. It's not every day that a man gives his ass up for the first time to another. When I said "See ya later" in the morning to my dad, I thought how heartbroken he'd be to know what I was off to do. He'd be devastated to know how much I was hungering for it to happen. NOTHING was going to stop me from taking Robert's cock in my ass, and NOTHING was going to stop me from loving every minute of it. The guy's mug? The guy's solid, manly, body? C'mon, this was going to be the most exciting thing I'd ever done.

I wondered how Robert would do it. I drove west along Rt. 80 towards my dripping fantasy, with Creedence on the radio, my left hand rhythmically tapping the steering wheel to "Proud Mary" and my right hand softly consoling my volcanic bulge. My cock had been painfully alive ever since meeting Robert but the anticipation of today was just about killing me.

When I arrived, I spotted the stud doing crunches on the back lawn with Laurel and Hardy wrestling each other.

"Hey, Robert. What's doin, man." The dogs ran to greet me and licked my hands and face.

"What's up, boot. Let's hit the morning drill. You gotta get your stats up to speed."

"Okay, man. I'm up for anything."

"In the Marines we run 6 miles every day before breakfast. I want to see you increase your speed today on that."

I was up for it, not quite as fast as Robert's average speed of 6 minute miles, but I could run a mile in about 8 minutes. That always impressed my teammates. Unfortunately, it didn't do much to impress Robert. He insisted I could do better.

I wanted to please this guy. I just loved roughing it with him. So I enthusiastically began this summer day running. "Today would be the day he fucked me! I'll run as long as he wants for that!"

We ran in silence along the perimeter of the lake with the only sounds being our breath, crunching twigs and the morning singing of various birds. It really was a great way to start the day. I liked that Robert was jogging close to me. I got off on his body, its rugged animal stature, and his heavy breathing. His ass looked more than delicious in his black basketball shorts. My own heavy breathing had more to do with the bulge in his shorts and his big legs than from the jogging. I enjoyed how thick they were. His calves, thighs and buttocks were destroying me.

Robert increased his speed and challenged me to keep up with him. "C'mon, boot, let's see whatcha got." He sprinted ahead of me like some 11th hour marathon winner. I was in complete awe. I tried my damndest to catch him.

We ran at top speed for the next 15 minutes before I needed a break. Damn, there was no stopping Robert. He was some type of robotron, bionic man. I felt kind of weak, even impotent in comparison.

"Okay, sugar britches, we'll take a little break."

"Real funny. Hey, I still ran prob'ly 10 mph consistently." My hands were clasping my squatting knees as I tried to regain my breath. I spit up some saliva.

"Yeah boot, but you got a ways to go, bro." I was amazed how his breath was so stable. "This dude is a fucking machine!" I thought.

He walked ahead of me. "When you catch your breath, catch up to me." And the stud was gone.

"Ah, shit, this fucking guy is kicking my ass!" I uttered aloud as I raced after him.

I finally caught up with him 15 minutes later, but only because he had stopped and was laying on the grass shirtless and sunbathing. "What took you so long, boot?"

"Don't get so cocky, Robert. By the end of the summer I'll be kicking your ass."

"Yeah, what summer we talkin' 'bout, son. Ya can't be meanin' THIS year!"

I playfully motioned to kick him and he grabbed my leg with lightning speed. Before I knew it I was on my gut with this stud on my back. I felt his chin and stubble on the back of my neck. His warm breath spoke: "Respect your CO, boot. That wasn't very nice." He started twisting my arm. "Say Uncle. Tell me I'm the man."

"OWW, why do you always gotta break my fucking balls?"

"Why do you always gotta suck mine?"

"You're hurting my arm, dick!"

"Tell me I'm the man."

"You're the man."

"Tell me I'm the man with the baddest cock."

"Ahhh..."

"Tell me, knob, or I'll snap your arm."

"You're the man with the baddest cock!"

Robert laughed and released me from whatever psycho, military, karate maneuver he had me in. He couldn't, however, extricate me from the grip his whole being had on my system. Yeah he did rough me up, yeah my arm did hurt a bit, but I was excited. FUCK, I was excited. My hard-on wasn't lost on him either. "Damn son, if your athletic stamina could match your cock's, you might be a soldier some day."

I was embarrassed. I didn't want him thinking that sucking his cock was all I wanted to do. I genuinely liked Robert's company. I admired him and wanted to hang out with him as much as possible. Maybe he wouldn't like me if he thought I was just about sucking him off.