Chapter 16

Bonita's was the only drop-off that occasioned excitement that morning; for everybody else, it was the morning after the night before. Hank got home to find his father to be among the missing; Martin returned home at noontime, and the self-satisfied way in which he handled himself told Hank all he needed to know about his father's evening.

Nor did Hank have any complaints; Beth had treated him like a king and made certain that his balls were empty -- and left him with a whole new appreciation for the chunkier set. Oh, he wasn't converted, by any means -- but his mind was open.

Jean and Martin had made no verbal commitments, but Jean's slant on the situation had changed; now, it was more or less up to Martin what he wanted to do about their relationship. As for Toby, she'd stopped kidding herself -- and next on the agenda was telling him so...

Rico dropped Tabitha off about nine-thirty; she'd slept between two men and she had a fifty for Mama and Rico had given her an additional twenty bucks for herself -- all was well with the world as far as she was concerned. Big Mama was mellow when the promised money appeared in her hand and didn't bitch when Tabitha spent an hour in the bathroom with her MP3 player, her headphones, and a bottle of bubble bath, relaxing and reliving the previous night's fun.

Randy left the Ho's about ten, swearing to himself that he wasn't going to go hang out there again. Sure, he managed to get his rocks off -- but neither Jiang Yi nor Sonya actually fulfilled his needs. There had to be something better out there. Randy had given up on Trish; she was a good fuck, but they didn't mesh -- she brought out the worst in him. Randy hated himself for the way he acted around her -- and Jiang Yi was no better. The tough guy thing was starting to really eat him up; it was time to be himself and let others do that shit.

Louise and Beth were both off for the weekend; they would be returning to the day shift on Tuesday. For Louise, that meant putting up with Fred -- but only after she'd slept. As things turned out, she was spared for some time; Fred got up early and went out to a job and then stayed out, ostensibly to drink. He wandered in after closing time Saturday night (well, Sunday morning) -- and Louise was by then asleep again...

Damian kept Alyssa with him most of the day Saturday, hanging out at home and listening to his brother's adventure at his chosen woman's family residence, among other things. He took her home about six, to a mildly irritated Adele -- and to Randy, who used him as a sounding board for his current unhappiness. By the time Damian got home, he wanted nothing more than to watch some TV or play some video games -- life was getting too complicated. Terence tended to agree.

Fred did more thinking than drinking. The evening of experimentation brought home to him just how far he was willing to go -- and it scared him. Little things wandered to the forefront -- even taking a dump is an adventure when you start thinking about your ass as an erogenous zone. Fred really hadn't thought any too much about controlling his asshole -- but it seemed to be a good idea, so he started taking an interest. Similarly, washing his ass in the shower provided an opportunity to 'make sure he was clean' by inserting a soapy finger. It didn't hurt a bit when you expected it and weren't clamped down...

Just the thought process was scary.

Fred dismissed the idea of going off to play at the peeps at one of his old haunts out of hand; there was NO WAY he was baring his ass to some unidentified jerk who might have any damned disease in the world -- even sucking was dangerous. Since he'd started getting his jollies at the boys' club, he'd stopped going to those places -- he didn't want to catch something and bring it there and REALLY poison the well!

Rico hadn't given any indication that he knew that Fred had been on the other side of that wall the other night; Fred had been pretty paranoid right after, but nothing appeared to have changed. On the one hand, the realization that Rico had done that kind of thing before -- and had known that the sucker (or fucker) on the other side had been male -- made Fred feel a lot less strange about the whole thing. Other guys did this kind of thing -- guys he knew -- they just didn't talk about it... On the flip side, Rico had been on the top end of that little encounter -- and Fred had been on the bottom; nothing said that Rico ever ASSUMED the bottom -- or what he would think of Fred for doing so...

So Fred came home sober -- or close to it -- Saturday night. Sunday, he had an invitation to go watch a game at the home of one of his drinking buddies -- and it offered an excuse to stay away from Louise -- so he went. But the three or four guys who were there were all playing games -- games Fred saw with new eyes. Everyone was trying to be on top -- talking shit, blustering -- it was as if they ALL were hiding the same issues Fred was hiding. The kicker was when he realized that Abdul -- Marcus really needed to change his name back, now that there was no up-side to pretending to be a Moslem -- was checking him out when he adjusted his package under his track suit. That ran to two separate issues: Marcus wouldn't look him in the eye, after, and he got more than half-hard before he could excuse himself and get clear by going for a beer in the fridge and get everything back under control. That shit embarrassed Abdul/Marcus even more, he figured. In this group, a slip like that generally was a slam-dunk -- "What the fuck you lookin' at, Man? " automatically moved you a peg up the totem pole -- but Fred pretended it never happened, instead -- only later realizing that he'd probably given himself away by doing THAT, too...

All in all, Fred was in a weird position; it seemed like you made all kinds of mental commitments without even having a plan to actually DO anything...

Clint could sympathize. Living with The Bitch had soured him on women early -- and everything he'd seen justified his position. The Bitch had made it clear that he was unwanted early on and reinforced it regularly; these days, they barely saw each other in passing. The flood of men that entered and exited The Bitch's life justified a revolving door on her bedroom -- but she managed to keep them afloat, somehow, generally without working, despite the fact that she was high-maintenance -- usually by living out of the pockets of the current contestant. This disgusted Clint; he'd been working part-time since he was fourteen in order to have his own money -- not that it didn't keep The Bitch from trying to steal it! He was under no illusions; when he hit eighteen, The Bitch would push him out of her nest at the first opportunity -- and that was fine with him!

Cheerleaders and such seemed similar -- they were empty-headed and selfish and wanted to draw on his popularity and achievements like vampires. They were only the latest group, though -- it seemed to Clint that girls had been fickle since he'd first come into contact with them in grade school. But guys seemed to turn the corner at about thirteen, and girls went from icky to something that occupied a considerable -- and growing -- chunk of their time...

Clint hadn't been quite honest with everyone when he discussed his experience; there had been an encounter...

He'd been fourteen, playing baseball on a league. He'd been first baseman; Robby Whitaker had played right field -- when allowed to play at all, something Robby's father was aggressive about with the coaching staff. Robby was tall and gangly -- kind of doughy-looking -- with curly brown hair and big brown eyes with too much in the way of lashes... He was good-looking, but in a soft way -- add a slight speech impediment, and Robby was thoroughly typecast as a twink. Robby's father was extremely aggressive about getting him on the team and playing -- obviously in an effort to get Robby to make a name for himself and combat the stigma -- but there wasn't much to work with and, as it turned out, it was a waste of the effort...

Clint was good, of course -- and he had plenty of free time, since The Bitch wanted him out of the house as much as possible and invisible when in. Coach Bradley saw an opportunity and made use of it, assigning Clint to Robby to give him some help with his catching and hitting after practices. Clint felt sorry for Robby and wasn't bothered by him, so he worked seriously with Robby -- who idolized him as a result. Robby's father, perceiving that Robby was getting a fair shake, backed off and stopped showing up at practices to heckle the coaches, only arriving an hour or so after practice was over to pick up Robby after his additional training.

Clint developed a pattern of working with Robby in the batting cages until Coach left, then hitting or throwing balls out to Robby in the outfield, after which they hit the Boy's Club showers. Robby's progress was slow and halting, but after a couple of weeks he could catch the occasional ball and knew how to bunt, at least. Everybody seemed satisfied.

One Wednesday afternoon, the pair were showering and Clint felt like horsing around. He wanted to jack off, but the showers were a little too public for that. While he was soaping it up, his cock got a good distance along toward a full-blown hard-on; Clint saw Robby glance over, grinned at him, and waggled it a little. Robby got this 'deer in the headlights' look, and Clint realized that he'd stepped in it, so he apologized, "Hey, sorry, I didn't mean shit. It's just up, you know? "

Robby, red-faced, waved it off nonetheless, "Sure, sure -- I've got one, too... You get the itch to play with it... " Robby's was up and stiff at maybe five inches.

"Yeah, exactly, " Clint agreed, "Damned thing will drive you nuts if you let it."

And that was it for a couple of days -- except Robby was looking -- a lot. Clint would catch him, but it embarrassed Clint, so he would pretend not to notice -- and the fact that Robby was generally stiff added to the embarrassment.

At the next Saturday game, Robby managed a base hit -- and his dad went wild about it, despite the fact that Robby was forced out at third. Clint was a hero and got invited back to Robby's house to be present to support his father's overenthusiastic recital of the incident to Robby's mother. That led to supper and a more or less standing invitation to come by after practice and hang out with Robby.

Clint had nothing better to do, and Robby had some decent video games and a computer; 'Besides,' Clint reasoned, 'somebody has to hang out with him...' Robby's dad was thrilled; just having Robby move in Clint's orbit helped his reputation. The Bitch was thrilled to death -- it meant fewer meals she had to prepare and more time without him hanging around the house. By the next Tuesday, things had evolved into an overnight stay.

They blew off showers at the club; Robby suggested that they do them at his house and Clint agreed, figuring it would probably avoid another embarrassing round of peeping in the club showers. It did, but Robby came out of the shower in just a towel -- and waited around like that until Clint came out, too -- and he made sure his stiff prick was highly visible while he got into his shorts. Clint gave up and followed his lead; if Robby wanted to show off, fine...

Neither of them put on underwear.

After supper, they went back upstairs and played some online games, taking turns at Robby's keyboard; Robby had brought up a straight chair for the person watching to sit in. When that began to pall, Robby turned on his TV, but didn't leave his computer. "Take a look at this..."

'This' was an Internet porn site. "Don't your folks lock you out of that stuff?" Clint asked.

Robby shrugged. "They think they do -- but I know more about the Net than they do..." He grinned and called up a video trailer and they started perusing the site, using the babble of the TV as cover for the soundtrack.

Things were soon uncomfortable. Clint wanted to play with his boner in the worst way; it was stiff and trapped and driving him nuts! Looking over at Robby, he found that the other boy had the same problem -- and was a little more open about it, rubbing his stiff boner through his shorts. He was also alert to Clint; as soon as Clint's attention focused on him, he turned to him and said, "This is stupid. I won't tell if you won't..." Then he pulled back the leg of his shorts, freeing his cock.

"No way! What if someone catches us?" Clint worried.

"That's why the desk is turned this way," Robby grinned. The desk stuck out from the side of the room, facing the door. "Besides, if they do come up, we'll hear them. It'll be at bedtime, anyway. They'll just stick their heads in the door and say good night -- it's all they ever do. Just be cool and take your hand away -- they'll never notice..."

"Yeah, well, maybe..." But Clint couldn't hold out; pretty soon they were taking turns blasting cum into an old T-shirt that Robby apparently kept handy for the purpose. Clint thought he was going to rub blisters on his dick! He got off three times before they gave up and went to bed -- and Clint didn't know what was more exciting -- the videos, or Robby watching him squirt cum into the rag with glowing eyes...

The next time, of course, it was old hat; the pair of them deliberately wore running shorts and went nuts sitting thigh to thigh, fully exposed thorough the loose legs of the shorts. The exercise had all of the elements -- it was fun, exciting, somewhat forbidden, and it eased tensions. They made a competition of it, trying to see how far they could squirt, the one not cumming holding out the shirt flat before the one shooting. Clint got the keyboard wet, which was funny -- after they got done freaking out about whether the computer would short out! When Clint came the third time that night, Robby reached out with his T-shirt-encased hand and milked the remaining cum from his cock; Clint started to complain, but the cloth felt good and it just didn't seem worth the hassle; besides, Robby was being gentle...

By then they were best buddies, after the model of Clint and his faithful sidekick Robbie, rather than as equals -- but neither of them cared. Since they were doing things that you ONLY did with someone you trusted implicitly, it more or less made sense. Clint, at least, felt that they hadn't crossed any lines -- but he was well aware that others might feel differently. And even he had to admit that they were getting close...

The next time they got together, Robby's parents announced that they were going out for the evening. They both got it; while 'babysitter' was carefully avoided, there was an implication that Clint was there to keep an eye on Robby. Since both of the boys resented that implication, it's no wonder that they acted out a bit...

At Robby's insistence, they delayed their showers until they had seen Robby's parents off -- then Robby dashed off to the bathroom while Clint started getting things set up for the pizza they were going to make in the oven. Robby came out in his usual towel wrap -- but they were well beyond that, so Clint didn't worry about it -- he just went off and took his own shower.

When Clint came out, Robby was still in just his towel -- again, nothing unusual -- but when Clint reached for his shorts, Robby said, "Why bother? My folks are gone -- why not be comfortable?" And he stood and dumped his towel on the floor.

Clint was caught flat-footed. "I dunno..."

"Man, we've both seen it all before -- why tie it up in shorts? Let it breathe!" Robby was breathing a little hard, actually.

"Yeah, well, okay..." Clint dropped his towel, too. "Is this gonna be okay downstairs in the kitchen? We have to get the pizza..."

"Somebody would have to be a Peeping Tom to see anything," Robby assured him, "and then they would have to explain THAT!"

Clint was dubious, but Robby was all excited about it, so he let it ride.

Robby WAS excited about it -- VERY excited! This was a chance to get a full-up eyeful, of Clint's body -- not the usual ten second glimpse while Clint shifted from towel to shorts, but time to take in the entirety without having to pretend not to -- and Robby took full advantage of it!

Clint was embarrassed, but it was important that he not act like he was bothered, so he checked out Robby -- who was, well, kind of girly -- more or less as expected. Oh, he had a cock -- and it worked; the games they'd played gave ample evidence. But Robby was kind of... soft, for lack of a better word. Since he was like that in the usually visible spots, it wasn't really a surprise. Clint shrugged and moved on to pretending that he did this kind of thing all the time. "Let's go get the pizza."

Ten minutes later they were kicked back in Robby's room, still naked, wolfing down pizza while sampling the latest content on Robby's favorite sites. Clint let Robby drive; he knew where stuff was, and he had a selection. They'd seen a little bit of everything, and it was ALL forbidden and exciting -- gay, interracial, transsexuals, oral, anal, gangbang, and gagging, as well as 'vanilla' sex. They'd even seen a couple of clips of chicks playing with dogs and horses! Robby drifted back and forth, but Clint couldn't help but realize that Robby was watching him to see what his favorites might be -- and some contrary streak in him kept him from revealing them, making it a game, of sorts.

Pizza and masturbation didn't really mix, so they were watching, primarily -- the videos, and each other. Over time, Robby seemed to narrow things; Clint didn't know how he gave himself away, exactly, but he must have, because after a while Robby started concentrating on a couple of things: Women being used hard, usually interracial, being gagged during blowjobs or pounded anally or double-teamed -- and hot, hard sex between muscular gays. Clint probably enjoyed the former so much because he was visualizing The Bitch taking the heat; the latter was a favorite because it was just wide-open and crazy and VERY forbidden. The combination pleased Robby in any case, so it didn't matter.

By the time the pizza was gone, they were both seriously aroused; Robby finished first and was feverishly jacking himself when Clint wiped his hands and took up his own over-sensitive erection. "Betcha I can cum first!" Robby grinned, panting.

"You've only got a five minute head start!" Clint rejoined and went to work seriously to try to catch up. He'd been holding pizza slices folded, though, and his hand was tired; after a few seconds of feverish motion, he snatched his hand away and started rubbing at the base of his thumb, "Shit! I've got a cramp!" Then he sat back, dumbfounded...

Robby had reached over and started jacking him! "How's that?" Robby asked breathlessly, gazing at him as if he'd been given an early Christmas present.

"I... Uuhh..." Clint flopped back in the chair and gazed down at the hand working his swollen, sensitive meat. He should stop this, he knew -- Robby had gone way too far -- but it felt fucking AWESOME! "Great!" he croaked. It was a LOT better than doing it himself...

"Watch the movie, Man," Robby said softly, "I got this. Tell me if you need something special..." Robby had been watching Clint jack off for a while, though, and he pretty much knew his preferred style.

Watching the video allowed Clint to pretend he didn't know where the action was coming from -- and to get into the action -- so he took the road of least resistance. They were watching some gym scene where three guys had some guy on his back on a bench, one shoving his cock between his lips, one pounding his cock into his ass, and the third sucking him while jacking off. There was PLENTY of stimulation; Clint felt his balls boiling in no time! He started hunching, panting breathlessly, "I'm gonna cum!"

Robby had his balls in his other hand, rolling them between his fingers. "Shoot, Man! See how high you can go!" Clint threw himself back against the chair and erupted, howling wordlessly, his first shot going three feet straight up and splashing on his belly and thighs and Robby's milking hand and wrist. The cum was cataclysmic -- far and away the best Clint had ever experienced -- and it left him unable to view the method used to give it to him any too negatively. Things were slipping over the edge, but they were too good to object to! "That was... great!" he panted.

Robby licked the cum off of his hand and wrist, his eyes challenging. It was a declaration -- one Clint needed to answer. "Hey, uh, look -- I don't know..."

"It's okay," Robby said quietly. "I'm not asking you to do anything for me. In fact, I don't think you should..." He resumed stroking Clint's cock. "This is all on me. Just getting it doesn't mean you're into giving it. Somebody has to be on top..."

It was a rationalization that was easy to accept when a soft hand was sliding up and down your sensitive meat. "If you're sure..." Clint croaked.

"It's okay," Robby assured him. "I've been... wanting to..."

Clint watched the hand rubbing his stiff shaft with glazed eyes. Somewhere, he knew that he should be doing something -- but the pleasure robbed him of any will. 'If Robby wants to play with it, what's the harm?' he rationalized. 'If he doesn't want me doing anything, then I'm not...' He couldn't really even think 'gay' or 'queer.'

"There is nobody else in the world I could do this for," Robby said softly. "Nobody who wouldn't put me down. You're my only friend..."

That made it a point of honor, sort of. Robby trusted him not to embarrass him about all this and ruin his life. If it made him happy, what was the harm? He would probably mess around this one time and get it out of his system, anyway... "Okay." Clint slumped back, relaxing; the decision was made.

Robby slid off his chair and dropped to his knees. "Spread your legs more," he said. Clint did as he was asked, and Robby resumed cradling his balls. "You can just watch the video -- it's hot, isn't it? Can you scoot up?"

Clint was committed, so he did as he was asked. He didn't watch Robby; it would embarrass both of them, he reasoned. Instead, he watched some muscle dude fuck another one's face. Robby was all over his cock, rubbing his sensitive glans and sliding gentle fingers along the shaft; Clint moaned and gasped, unable to contain himself. And then a wet tongue washed over the tip... Clint looked down, surprised, just in time to watch Robby's lips slide over his glans. It was incredible! "Awww, FUCK! I'm gonna blow!" Clint reached down to haul Robby off, but instead, the dark-haired boy's lips slid even farther down his shaft. Clint grabbed Robby's head and started backing him off -- and Robby seemed to cooperate until he was almost clear -- then he slid his lips back over Clint's purplish, swollen tip again and Clint lost any ability to control the situation! Sparks flashed before his eyes and pleasure rolled over him in waves as his cock gouted into the hot mouth wrapped around it!

When he came back to himself, he was more or less holding Robby in place, rather than trying to get him off. Robby was sucking him and washing him with his tongue and it was Heavenly! Clint let go and mumbled, "Sorry!"

Robby shrugged, smiling. "It was good -- I liked it!" He lowered his lips over Clint's cock again, extending the moment.

Clint didn't know what to say. Robby was gay, apparently. He didn't seem to think Clint was, though, so maybe it was okay. This was certainly going to change their little parties...

For the next half-hour or so, nothing much happened; Robby pulled up a different video when the one they'd been watching ended and they more or less just hung out. Clint asked when Robby was going to get his, telling him, "If, uh, you need to watch something special, go ahead," but Robby blushed a little.

"I got off while I was doing you," he admitted. "That's why the T-shirt is under your chair."

"Oh. Okay," seemed to be the best Clint could come up with.

After a while, Clint's cock started coming back to life -- and Robby took charge of it right away. Clint started to protest, but Robby waved it off. "No, I've got it -- I can do mine with my other hand and I get off on feeling it -- okay?" Given what had already happened, Clint couldn't get any too stupid about it.

Robby had him turn sideways to the computer so they could both see the video while he again dropped to his knees to suck Clint's cock. Clint had cum recently, so he was in a fine position to enjoy it without exploding right away -- and Robby didn't seem to mind -- so he just relaxed and let Robby worship his dick. "Daddy would shit," Robby muttered, stopping to rub and stroke him, "but I like this. I've wanted this ever since that day in the shower..."

"We'll need to keep it a secret," Clint replied. There -- he'd said it. He'd basically told Robby it was okay to do this stuff. Maybe that was wrong, but it was too good to just get up and walk away from! Maybe later, when his dick wasn't driving him nuts, he'd think differently -- and maybe then he would be able to get Robby to throttle it back -- but right now, it was all about the pleasure...

Robby was busting loose -- and going overboard; obviously, this was a serious fantasy for him. On the video, a hard-bodied stud was squatting to take the cock of a seated companion up his ass. "I want to do that!" Robby announced.

Clint watched the guy; the look on his face as he settled onto his companion's cock wasn't necessarily a grimace of pleasure. "That might not be as fun as it looks, Robby."

"It's gonna be fine," Robby assured him. "Let's use the straight chair. Sit back. I'll back up like this... If it hurts, I can stop it, since I'm controlling it..."

"I dunno," Clint said dubiously. "Are you really sure you should do this?"

"I don't think he should," a soft voice said from the door.

Both boys froze -- then jumped apart. Robby's mom was standing in the door! "Turn that off," she directed, pointing at the computer, then turned to close the door. "Both of you get dressed -- you don't want your father seeing this..."

Clint was shaking like a leaf as he recovered his clothing -- and a glance at Robby told him he was in just as bad a shape! Obviously, the movie had gotten out and they hadn't been watching the time...

"Those moans and groans weren't TV," Robby's mother growled. "It's a good thing I have better hearing! What goes on here? Clint, are you gay?" She was keeping her voice down -- obviously in order to keep Robby's father out of things...

"Uh, no, Ma'am..." Clint sputtered.

"It was me, Mom -- it was ALL me!" Robby erupted. "Clint just... put up with it, more or less..."

Robby's mother eyed Clint. "That's certainly how it appears -- but it takes two to tango -- and this is a team sport, too! Clint, I think you'd better go, don't you?"

"I -- yes, Ma'am." Clint gathered his stuff.

Robby's mother turned to her boy, "Take him outside and say goodbye to him." She turned back to Clint, "I kind of doubt that there will be any more sleep-overs."

"No, Ma'am," Clint agreed. He sidled past her and out the bedroom door; Robby followed.

Outside, Robby started bawling as soon as they were outside. Pulling Clint into the side yard, he clutched himself to Clint. "It's all ruined!" he wailed. "Mom won't let me be alone with you, ever again! And if I screw it up, she'll tell Daddy!"

"You're probably lucky if that's ALL that happens!" Clint tried to console his friend, uncomfortable in the embrace. Finally, he returned it, amazed that Robby felt so soft and girlish. They stayed that way, Clint trying to banish his own worries about a phone call to The Bitch while he tried to console Robby, until Robby's mother came to the door. "Robby, say goodbye now, and come in."

Robby backed off, but lunged back in, trying to kiss Clint, apparently. Clint ducked away. "Bye, Robby." He didn't look back as he headed off.

It was the last time he ever saw Robby. Robby did not return to baseball, and he wasn't in school in the fall; a trip by Robby's house led to the discovery that someone else was living there. Clint never found out exactly what happened...

Clint remembered Robby sort of fondly -- the episode with him represented some of the best things that had ever happened to him, sexually. Robby had been the prime example that led Clint to consider the gay route. But Robby had down-sides; Clint really liked the hard-bodied type -- that's what attracted him to Terence. THAT seemed to be going pretty well -- for being kind of unacknowledged, anyway -- but then there was that Brenda chick...

He'd stewed around about it the rest of the night Friday night and all day Saturday -- and at the end of it, he was willing to admit that Terence and Toby might be right -- within limits, anyway. Maybe girls WERE okay. Brenda... Okay, she was black, and she was kind of homely -- and she was flat-chested -- don't forget that! But she was probably the most in-shape chick Clint had ever seen, and she could run like the wind, according to what he'd seen and heard. He'd been pretty mean to her, too -- and she didn't seem to carry a grudge -- and she'd been a pretty good fuck, not that he was any judge of that shit. Just when he thought he had it all doped out, something comes along and shakes things up...