tagGay MaleThe Vacation House Ch. 12

The Vacation House Ch. 12

by1Puck1©

My first week is finally done and over with here at Keene State. It sure has been a completely different experience than it was during my freshman year at the University of Rhode Island. I would not say that it was more difficult, just different.

Walking across the campus to get to the parking lot by the Keene Community Ice Arena is an adventure in itself. Classes are spread out all over the place. The quad is about as far from my first and last class that I have to run from one to the next just to make it in time before the professor starts his lecture.

I really don't know how it turned out this way but Tag and I have most of our classes together. Just lucky I guess. It works out great when one of us is running late, the other is too. Just divide the ire of the Professor and neither of us gets the full wrath. It's cool to have a wing man who already is in an established relationship. It keeps the questions to a minimum about my personal life cause I can always deflect the conversation from me towards them. Works like a charm.

"So, hows about we grab a Pizza after practice tonight Rob?"

"Can't, have way too much to do with Professor Xe's ridiculous Trig homework. Is it me or do you feel like they are piling this crap up on us just to see who lives through the first semester without breaking down and screaming through the hallways naked, screaming at the top of your lungs?"

"Give it a break Rob, you're just being a drama queen. Suck it up big boy or I am going to have Melanie kick your butt into shape. Don't be a pussy."

I tackle Tag so quickly that I hear the wind being knocked out of him. His bulk hits the grass that lines the sidewalk with a deafening THUD.

"Bitch, get off me!"

"Who you calling Bitch, you Bitch? Mel's got you so whipped that your balls are bluer than my eyes."

"Your eyes are blue?"

Rolling off Tag's back, laughing myself into a fit, curled up in the fetal position, gasping with spasm until I catch my breath.

"Hack, phew."

"OK, that was about as gross as it gets. Next time you decide to spit grass out, not on my shirt will you Tag?"

"Yeah, well next time you decide you've go the urge to hump me in public, give me a little warning so I can put a cup on backward, DEAL?"

"Deal, c'mon gotta get in gear, like I said, I'm drowning in Trig and it's not going to get any easier laying here and smelling the lawn."

"You started this, not me. I was fine, walking along, minding my own business when out of no where, some damned pussy jumps me from behind and decides that I am going to be his scratching post. Next time, scratch your own itch in private, got it Kemosabe?"

My mouth spreads into the widest grin, Tag takes my extended hand, pulls me up to my feet. Man, he is built like an anchor, I sure am glad he is on my team cause if he had tackled me the way I did him, I think I would have ruptured my spleen.

The late afternoon sun beats down on my pick-up that I inconveniently park as far from anyone else as possible.

"Heads UP!"

Tossing my keys up into the air, Tag instinctively snatches them just before my bad throw has them soaring over his head. He lands a little awkward, his right ankle rolls over, he collapses into a heap on the hot asphalt. His ankle clutched in both hands, lying on his side, grimacing in pain.

"FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! Son of a, FUCK!"

My feet planted for what seems an eternity, then a full sprint to my best friend, writhing on the ground, cursing like a drunk sailor in a whore house.

"I'm sorry, please, please, Tag, I'm sorry. I just thought you'd like to drive tonight. I didn't mean to throw the keys so high above your head. Dude, tell me you're OK. Please, don't be fucked up man, please!"

Tears are streaming down Tag's handsome face. His eyes closed as tight as a clam-shell, his lips pulled back baring his teeth in a snarling grimace. Shit, I really fucked up big time!

"SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP! Help me get up and to the truck will you?"

The keys still tightly gripped in his hand, I lift Tag's arm up and over my head. He pulls tightly toward me, slowly, we begin to rise together from the hot pavement. The underside of his forearm scraped, bleeding in small spots where bits of sand and glass where ground into his flesh as it scraped the parking lot under his falling weight.

We limped slowly toward the truck, the beep, beep of the Viper Alarm system unlocks the doors. I open the passenger door, pivot Tag around until his backside was resting on the side of the seat. He braces himself with both hands against the frame of the truck's door jam, pushes himself up assisted by me as much I could considering his mass weighs more than I could lift on a good day in the gym. He slides himself back onto the seat, I lift his injured leg as gently as I can, allowing him to initiate the pace that he can tolerate.

Damn, why did I do that? What the hell are we going to do now? The hospital, I have to get him to the hospital.

"I'm taking you to the E.R., you just put your head back and take it as easy as you can. I'm sorry Tag, honest to god, I'm sorry."

"NO! Can't, we can't go to the hospital, just take me home, I'll be OK, just a tweak, trust me, I'm fine."

"What the heck are you talking about, tweak my ass, you're going to the hospital, not taking any chances, for all you know it could be broken."

"NOPE, can't, trust me, I can't go to the hospital, just can't."

"Why the hell not? If there is something really wrong, they will be able to fix it and you'll be back up and running after me to kick my butt in no time."

"I don't have insurance Rob, my parents don't have the money to pay me to go to the hospital, have you any idea of how much X-ray's alone are? Not to mention everything else they might bill for? Sorry, I just can't lay that on them. I'll be fine, it's not the first time I have rolled an ankle. That's all it is, I just need to get some ice on it."

ICE! Shit, why didn't I think of that?

"Be right back."

Closing the passenger door, making sure to do it as carefully as I can. I did not take any chance that I might jostle Tag, causing him even more pain than I already have. Turning on my heals, running across the parking lot toward the back of the Ice Rink. Piles of melting ice from the Zamboni wait for me to grab a couple of hands full. I dump my books out of my ruck sack, fill it with the shaved ice. Grab my books back up, tuck them under my arm and head back to the truck.

Seeing Tag's face, his closed eyes, his mouth slightly opened as he breaths in and out in an attempt to deal with his pain sends my stomach to my feet.

The passenger door opens, ever so gently I place my dripping shaved ice filled ruck sack onto his already very swollen ankle.

"Ahhhh."

Tag opens his eyes, looks at me with the twinkling reflection of sunlight on his tears as they resist spilling over the bottom eyelids.

"Thanks, that's so much better. Really, I'm fine. Come on, let's get going."

Hoping into the driver seat, a big paw reaches from the passenger side of the cab. My best friends upturned open palm, keys presented to me. The spoiled moment of my innocent gesture gone really badly.

The engine is brought to life, the pick-up very slowly covers the distance from it's parking space, rolls onto the roadway.

Small moaning sounds from the passenger side, I take my eyes off the road for a moment, look down toward the swollen ankle covered with my soaking wet ruck sack. I quickly look back to the road, look back at the handsome face of my friend, pain showing through his tough exterior. No matter how hard he tries to hide it, he really is hurt, badly.

I just drive in silence, don't even think to put on the radio to help distract us. It comes to me like a bolt of lightning.

"Listen, Tag, wake up. You OK? Look, this is what we're gonna do; I have health insurance, you don't. Yeah, I know this sound crazy but there really is no other way around this, you are going to have your leg checked out by a Dr. You, me, we don't look that different and I have never been to the hospital up here. There is no way that some lady who takes information and ID numbers is going to know you are not me. RIGHT?"

Breathing in deeply, I am sure that I have just come up with a brilliant solution to the insurance problem. But, is Tag going to go along with this? He's proud, just as proud as my Dad is. Would my Dad allow someone else to help out if he was in the same situation? HELL YEAH! He just did recently when Lee moved in with us to help offset living costs, gave him a huge raise and a new job title as site manager for his construction firm. Co-signed so that Dad could get his new truck. He not only would do exactly the same as I am, I bet he would even encourage me to do it.

"Rob, I don't know if that's such a good idea. Yeah, we might kinda have the same colored hair and eyes but you're kinda scrawny compared to, well, you know, my mythological god like good looks and build."

His smile broadened. I know he was kidding, well, kinda. Tag knows he is handsome, has been told it his entire life but he is not full of himself, if anything he is kinda self deprecating.

Pulling into the E.R. driveway, stopping just outside the automatic doors that lead into the well lit entrance. I push down on the parking brake, hop out grab the wheel chair sitting next to the cigarette ashtray.

Minutes turn to hours, I call my Dad to let him know that I would be home late, making up a lie that I had to stay at the rink for an unscheduled practice, asked if it was OK if Tag could spend the night. Dad did not have any clue that I was lying through my teeth, that I was going to have to come up with another whopper when we show up with my friends ankle blown up like a balloon.

Dr. Weinstein hands Tag aka Rob a prescription for an anti inflammatory med. Gives him some printed instructions on how to take care of his sprained ankle, advice on how to shower with a garbage bag over the splint on his lower leg and foot so as not to get it wet.

Cool night air flows through the cab of the truck, bright lights of oncoming traffic glares across the not so perfect surface of the pick-ups windshield. Tag tugs on his shoulder strap of the seat belt, clearly uncomfortable, shifts in his seat.

"You know, Dad doesn't have to know about any of this. We just have to get our story straight between the two of us. You had a fall in the locker room after you took your skates off. Tripped on some tape or something, just had it wrapped up by the assistant coach and that's that, OK?"

"What ever you say Kemosabe, Tonto goes where ever the Lone Ranger goes. Someone has to protect him."

"You're such an ass, you know that Tag? Shit, here, take my cell, let Melanie know you're staying with me tonight, then call your parents. We have to keep everything straight with our story, just in case one of them decides to call the other."

"Yep, you sure must have used up a whole slew of those random brain cells of yours figuring out this whole scheme. I surprised you have enough left to be able to even talk."

Pulling into the gravel driveway, I see Dad's new beast, Lee's truck and then the Harley which is covered form. The truck comes to a stop on the far end of vehicles, the engine cut off, dies.

The sound of crickets and loose stone under my feet as I open the passenger door, Tag swings his legs out, the injured one heavily wrapped, braced, crutches placed carefully down. The bulk of weight being borne by his one good leg, my hands at the ready, just in case his balance is lost.

"Dad, we're here! You're not gonna believe this, Tag had a little accident, that's why it took me a little longer to get home. Good thing we planned on him staying over tonight cause his folks are away for the weekend, he would have no one to help him get around. DAD? LEE? Anyone here? C'mon I saw your trucks in the driveway, you guys have to be here somewhere?"

Looking around the living room, entering the kitchen, no-one, notta, nothing!

"C'mon, the guest bedroom is right here, brand new furniture and everything. No one has even slept in the bed yet so it looks like your gonna get to break in a Virgin!"

"Rob, you are one sick bastard, you know that?"

"Yep, you don't know the first half of it."

Tag hobbles on his crutches, enters the guest bedroom, the door closes behind him.

"CLICK"

Shuffling down the hallway to my room, the very next door on the left of the hallway, wondering if my friend was really going to be OK. I know that the meds that he was given at the hospital were taking their toll on him. He kind of slurred his speech a little, his eyes barely open slits. The life that normally sparkles from them, subdued, almost extinguished. Hopefully after a long nights rest, things will look more upbeat. Hope he can get back on the ice soon, we sure need him, well I guess so do I.

"Squeak, squeak, squeak, BANG!"

"Shhhhhhh!"

Stopping in my tracks, my head snaps toward my sisters intended bedroom at the end of the hallway. Creeping slowly, crouching a little like a stalking cat, listening for more sound, any sound. HOLY SHIT, Dad and Lee, are they at it? CRAP! What if Tag is still able to figure out what the sounds are that I just heard?

Bending low, trying to listen at the bedroom door that must be concealing the bodies of two super hot and sweaty naked men. My mind begins to spin out of control, my minds eye conjures up visions of wild sexual positions, intertwined forms, arms, legs, sweat dripping from every surface of rugged flesh. HOT, STEAMY, MAN SEX!

Realizing that my hand has a firm grip on the rock hard flesh below my zipper, my eyes look toward the bedroom door that my friend was hopefully sleeping soundly behind. One of my ears to the door, the other tuned in, searching for any sound of motion coming from the hobbled Tag.

Light shoots out from under the bedroom door that my ear is pressed upon. Standing quickly, I make no waste of time to get myself into my own bedroom, very slowly closing the door as not to alert anyone of my having been spying, peeping Tom like.

My pillow cradles my head while my heart beats so loudly that it may well be drowning out possible goings on in either of the rooms adjacent to my own.

My hardened penis presses mercilessly against the front of my pants, demanding release. Fingertips tugging on the tab, hand moving slowly down toward the foot of my bed. My entire hand dives into the opening, fumbles with the waistband of my boxer brief. FREEDOM! The force which I move my hand up and down the length of my manhood, the heat of friction brings me instantly to climax. Shooting up and hitting my chin, landing on my right eye which thankfully was closed at the height of ecstatic release. Splats of cum hitting the wall above my head, drips down toward my pillow.

Panting, huffing, rubbing, the exquisite sensitive feeling, now the let down realization that it was over so quickly. GOD, this had to have been one of the fastest yet most explosive loads I have ever produced. I lean over the side of the bed, pick up a dirty sock laying partially hidden under the nightstand. Wipes my face, smearing at first, sticky, warm, damp, sitting up, turning my torso, wipes my pleasure off the wall. Thank God for washable Latex Paint.

Brought back to the present by the sound of doors opening, closing, the sound of water running in the guest bathroom.

OK, so it's finally happened, something but what? WHO? I just can't see either one of them finally giving in to the others demands to bottom. Maybe it was not that kind of sex, maybe they just gave each other a blow job, or hand jobs, or god only knows a million other kinds of safer type sex where neither would have to given up to the other. YEAH, consensual flipping.

The knock at my door startles me. Stuffs my softening penis back into it's hiding place. Sits up on the edge of the bed, stares at the closed door.

"C'mon in... I'm decent."

The door slowly opens, light from the ceiling light of the hall floods into my moonlit room. I recognize Dad's form as it is revealed before me.

"Everything OK Robbie? How's Tag? What did they say?"

What? My eyes dart from Dad to the wall separating the guest bedroom and mine. Praying my fears where not about to materialize. Heart beats wildly again, mouth goes dry, eyes shoot back to Dad, catch his stare, fixate on the depth of darkness there.

"Robbie, I know, cut the crap, the hospital called to confirm your insurance. They said it is standard procedure when the person being treated is under 21, on a parents policy. You may have fooled them young man but you can't pull that kind of crap on me. First off when they confirmed that your weight and that height, I knew instantly that it wasn't you. I asked them to describe the person who brought you, Tag in. Now don't you think I know damned well what you look like?"

Fear floods every inch of me. Panic sets in, wordless, jaw won't move. The urge to throw myself under the covers and hide. The little kid in me rushing back, idiotic thoughts that I could wish this all away, that hiding under the covers would make me invisible.

"Robbie, get up. We have a little something to get over with, you might think you like this but let me assure you, you're not!"

Dad moves in on me as fast as a giant bear after a jar of honey. Fingers dig into my left upper arm. My entire body swings wildly around, pulled off balance, landing prone over the edge of the bed. The sound of the buckle, the pull of the leather belt from the fabric pants, their restraining loops.

Deafening crack reverberates through my head. PAIN, burning pain. Another crack, more pain. I writhe on the bed, try to get away from the next imminent blow. The hand grabbing at my waist band, snapping the button away from the button hole, tearing of the zipper, air, cool air brushing against my exposed lower body.

The onslaught of strapping continues, another tug, underwear ripping, fabric separating from the elastic waist band, more exposed skin. Stinging strap after stinging strapping. Tears flooding from my eyes, wails gut wrenching pain, pleads, words finally forming, forced from my mouth.

"PLEASE, PLEASE, I'm sorry! I'M SORRY, PLEASE DAD, I swear, I'll never do it again. I swear!"

"Damned right you won't and I'm gonna make sure you don't forget this."

The belt swings through the air, whistling like a bomb dropping, cracking sound, pain, pain. I give in to the punishment. This is far worse than what Dad had given to me when I had seduced him earlier this year. Far worse than anything that I ever received as a bad kid.

How on earth had I ever enjoyed this? Why is this so much worse?

"CRACK, CRACK."

Sound stops, heaving breathing from the angry man standing over my welt riddled backside. The door closes. I'm alone, completely alone. Crying into the bunched up sheet. Tears streaming at a mad pace, barely able to catch my breath. I try to calm myself, breath slower, try to stop the tears, any more sound from escaping my beaten body.

TAG! Shit, he's in the next room, did he just hear what happened? Oh my god, beaten screaming, crying, what is he going to think when I see him in the morning? LEE? Shit, Lee just heard this whole thing, no way he doesn't know what just happened here. How am I going to face either of them in the morning? How is Dad going to deal with this in the morning?

My hand reach back, rub my burning ass cheeks. Penis begins to come to life again, presses into the mattress. What the hell? After this, how can I be getting all hot and bothered again? This was not some sort of role play, this was a blow by blow beat down. As Lee would say, an Ole fashioned Whoopin.

Moving my body in a slow rocking motion, penis rubbing the fabric, hands caressing the ravaged flesh, finger tips slipping between the cheeks, daring to touch, relaxing as the tip if my index finger invades the small opening. Pressure building inside, balls pulling up against the base of my penis.

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