Trust and Consequence
I woke up Sunday morning after a fitful night's rest on my bedroom floor. When I stirred, old Sam thumped his tail a few times against the carpet. I was confused at first as to exactly why I was on the floor instead of in my soft bed with the silky sheets. When I spied the children's book, "Alexander and his Terrible, No Good, Very Bad Day," I remembered falling asleep reading it. I closed the book and placed it back on my bookshelf. I considered going for a triple J, but I really wasn't in the mood to run, and I hadn't arranged to meet up with Kirk since it was Sunday. It seemed like it would be a letdown jiggling alone without him there. I'd come to really enjoy sharing the experience. It was way better doing it together, especially jacking each other's.
I looked down at my limp dick and a depressing sullenness crept over me as I relived the events of the prior night's bonfire. I wondered how William was coping and what I could do to make it up to him. I tossed my comforter back onto the bed, set the pillows against the wall and crawled onto my silky sheets. I loved how they felt against my naked body. They were cool and an involuntary shudder ran through me as I pressed my backside against them. I nestled my head into one of the pillows and closed my eyes. Slowly, my body heat absorbed the coolness in the sheets and I settled into a comfortable position.
My thoughts refocused on the bonfire, and I thought about how nicely things had been going at first and how much fun William was having. I cursed myself for abandoning him just for a chance to see Dig's boner. I had to be honest with myself and admit that the only reason I followed Bodie on that foolish camcorder mission was for a glimpse of Dig's odd shaped dick. But if I hadn't gone, something far, far worse may have happened.
I conjured up the image of Dig's skinny, six inch dick with the oversized, inflated head perched on top. It was pretty much how I'd imagined it all along. I chuckled to myself as I recalled the way Bodie and I were talking about two completely different things while I was describing Dig's dick outside the window. I'm thankful I didn't completely give myself away at the end of our chat. I'm pretty sure Bodie bought it when I said I was thinking about sucking on Rochelle's clit.
I reflected on feeling Dig's massive dickhead pressed against my asshole as I prepared to get fucked by him on the bed. I could practically feel it in my hand again as I thought about stroking him off after he finished testing me. Sliding the skin of his unusual dick over the stiff, yet narrow shaft and then up over the large, expanded dickhead was amazing.
The memory was giving me an erection and I took a fist full of Little Rock and began slow dancing with him. I remembered the way Dig's mouth twitched and his body reacted to the pending orgasm under the direction of my hand. He stiffened like a board from head to toe as if he were trying to break free from the grasp of a wrestling opponent and then shot his cum, spurt after spurt, until he was covered in his own juice. Finally, I remembered the sweet taste of his thick cum. I rubbed my tongue across the roof of my mouth a couple times wishing I could taste it again now. I realized it was going to be difficult not to get hard around him in the showers from now on. I'd probably end up being like banana boy, Scotty, with a perpetual hard-on.
I remembered how surprised I was that he was not only willing, but insistent on returning the favor. I wondered if he possibly fantasized over my dick the way I do over his. "Nah, probably not," I thought. I recalled the image of his hard body kneeling in front of me between my legs. His strong, firm grip encased my boner as I watched him working me over like a pro. The memory evoked such powerful feelings, I was on the verge of cumming right there on my bed. I love slow cums where the feeling builds almost imperceptibly and then you realize you've reached the summit after a slow and steady climb. I felt my muscles tense in anticipation of cresting over the hill into the downhill side of my orgasm.
I was so wrapped up in the experience that I didn't even hear him coming. I didn't realize I wasn't alone until the end of his sentence when my brain finally registered the presence of my dad's voice. "Blah, blah, blah … laundry," was all I heard. Panic overtook me and I frantically grabbed at my comforter to hide my erection. It lay twisted and did not readily provide the camouflage I sought.
"Oh Kyle, I'm so sorry. I didn't know you were … excuse me, I'll leave and let you, umm, finish. Oh, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have just walked in." My father backed out of my bedroom before I could even find any words to speak. At least I hadn't cummed yet. The head on my shoulders turned as dark crimson in color as the head on my dick already was. I was surprised there was enough blood in my system to fill them both up. It took me a minute longer before my brain registered that my father had also been naked. That seemed to compound my embarrassment somehow, though I'm not sure why.
When the uncomfortable feeling of embarrassment subsided, I contemplated what I should do. I'd been ripped out of the moment now and the fantasy of Dig jacking me off had been shattered. Still, I had my pent up teenage desire and needed a release. I was certainly safe from any more intrusions, judging from my father's own display of embarrassment when he caught me in the act. His embarrassment appeared almost equal to my own. I decided, however, to satisfy my curiosity and abandon my jack-off session for now and go see what he wanted. I also wanted to find out why he was naked. My dick had mostly shrunk, and I decided that I could finish later on in the shower.
I pulled on a pair of boxers and some Nike shorts and made my way downstairs. I checked in all the likely spots but couldn't find him. As the last place to look, I walked down the hallway to his bedroom and I heard him calling my mother's name out and talking to her, though she wasn't answering. I paused, wondering if she'd come back and if that was what he wanted to tell me. I worried they might be arguing. I didn't want any part of that. Still, I wondered why he'd been naked. "Maybe …" I thought, "Maybe they're doing it." The door was ajar and curiosity overwhelmed me. They say curiosity killed the cat, and it certainly killed me at the previous night's bonfire. But hey, a cat's got nine lives, so I figured I had eight more to go.
I crept up on the bedroom door and my stomach fluttered in nervous anticipation with each step. The closer I got, I realized my dad was definitely talking in the middle of his making love to my mom. I could hear the steady pace of the bed springs squeaking. He was telling her how much he missed her and apologized for letting the love between them go stale. He expressed how wonderful it was to be back inside her, so intimately connected again after so many years of going without.
"Oh my God," I thought, "YEARS!" I felt so bad for him being cut off that long. But the idea that they were doing it together again after years was incredibly exciting. Could it be possible that my parents would reconcile and mom might come back a changed woman? Maybe she realized what an ass she'd been and she and dad could rekindle the kind of passion I witnessed between Scotty's parents. Maybe she missed us. I stood at the door and just listened and considered it might be better if I just left them be. Somehow, though, I just had to take a peek.
I carefully pushed the bedroom door open a little more, just wide enough to take in the scene on the bed. What I saw shocked and saddened me to the core. My father was in his bed intensely engaged in fucking all right, but not with my mother. I stood and stared in overpowering sorrow as my father spoke tenderly in concert with his steady and determined humping motion. His flat, bare ass rose and fell as he spoke gently and tenderly. After watching for a couple of minutes completely unnoticed, I was just ready to leave when he cried out and plunged in deeply, obviously unloading his seed. I just stood there in shocked awe and watched him do it. He collapsed in his post orgasmic phase and lay there heavily, regaining his breath. Then, he did the saddest, most pathetic thing I think I may ever witness in my whole life; he tenderly kissed the silky pillow he'd just finished fucking, called it by mother's name and expressed his sincere love to it. I crept backwards into the hall and retreated to my room.
I did not think I could dislike my mother any more than I already did, but now I was on the verge of hatred. I was so saddened by what I'd just witnessed. I was shaking and I just wanted to scream. I was so sad for my dad. I pulled on my running shoes and a t-shirt and ran down the stairs and out the door. Thinking better of it, I went back in and left my dad a note that I would be right back after a short run then headed back out the door. I ran down the sidewalk to the street, out the gate, and onto the road. I ran full speed until I reached the dirt road. I slowed a bit, and then I ran down the overgrown trail until I came to my secret spot. I walked in small circles until my heart rate settled into a manageable pace. I filled my lungs with air and I SCREAMED! I screamed at my mother and I cried out obscenities on behalf of my poor father, and then I screamed some more.
I kicked the fallen log until my foot hurt and then I pounded on it until my fists hurt. I grieved the loss of my mother. I grieved the loss of my parent's happiness. I grieved over my father's pain. I screamed at the assholes that harassed poor William and I screamed at myself for leaving him alone. Then, I was done. I was numb and I felt spent. I lay prone, lengthwise on the log, staring at the blue sky overhead and panting. Scattered grey clouds with streaks of blackness at their edges moved ominously across the sky. They were headed off to rain on someone's parade somewhere, I imagined. I suppose if I did drugs, now would be a time that I would choose to escape from reality. I didn't though and never would. If I drank, now would be the ideal time to get sloppy drunk, but I don't even do that. So, I did the one thing that I actually do use to escape reality.
I stood and stripped off all my clothes, then lay back down on the log naked. With my left hand I cupped and squeezed my balls tighter than usual while I stroked my five inch erection with dogged determination. There was no fantasy involved at this point; it was strictly a matter of business. I stroked firm and steady and watched in clinical fascination as my dickhead expanded ever so slightly with the onset of that special feeling. I escaped into the momentary rush of endorphins while spilling my sperm in desperate need.
My asshole clenched and my face contorted as the first of my copious sperm erupted from my slit and splashed onto my chest. Six shots later, I slowed down to a mere bubbling discharge coating my glans, my hand, and puddling in my pubes. Until I recently started engaging in real life sexual activity with other guys, I had no idea that I produced such prodigious quantities of sperm. The mystical molten magma erupted and flowed from me like Vesuvius. Having only porno vids to compare to, I assumed everyone generated the same quantity as me. Now that I'd seen Dig's cumshot, Bodie's spilling of his load onto the ranch cabin wall, and Kirk's average sized production during our morning jiggles, I came to realize that I produced an enormous amount of the stuff. There was also William's small display to compare to (although I don't think his really counts given his medical situation). Maybe that's why the persistent need to unload it is pretty much always on my mind.
As I came down off my sexual high, I began to slip into a post erotic stress depression. I recognized it. I've endured it's nastiness for most of my life. Guilty feelings over the fantasies that accompany my masturbation sessions are all too familiar. This time, the depression wasn't triggered by guilt, but rather by sympathy over my father's sad experience. I've kind of gotten over the guilt trip from my fantasies since I've sort of accepted that I like doing sex stuff with guys. But now, I took the opportunity to beat myself up over the psychological damage I'd caused poor William. I loathed my mother and what I really felt guilty for this time was indulging myself with a sexual fix while everyone around me was so sad. I sopped up the slimy mess on my upper body with my t-shirt and pulled my boxers and shorts back on. I kicked and slugged the immovable log one more time in penance for my selfish indulgence and ran home.
I found my father vacuuming the family room, and he was still completely naked. He stopped and turned off the vacuum when he saw me come in. "Kyle," he began, "I'm really and truly sorry I interrupted you earlier. I mean, I know you know that I know, that you … well, that you … you know. But, even though I know you know that I know, it still doesn't make it any less embarrassing when you get caught … doing you know what."
I just broke out in laughter. It sort of erupted out of me, after the ridiculousness of his little speech. The inappropriate laughter was just as uncontrollable as erupting cum is after passing the point of no return in a jack-off session. "That's the lamest apology I ever heard. I know that you know that I know that you know that I know you do you know what," I said in mockery and then erupted in laughter again. As my dad heard his words parroted back, he found them equally amusing. "But no worries, dad. I actually do know that you know that I, you know what. I was embarrassed about getting caught at it, but after I really thought about it, what's the big deal that you saw me doing it? I'm pretty sure you also engage in a little "you know what" now and then, so if I ever catch you at it, we'll just call it even, okay?"
"Sounds like a deal."
"So now please explain why are you vacuuming the house naked?"
"Well that's partially your fault."
"My fault? How is it my fault?"
"Well, you got me started on the whole nudity thing, and I actually find I enjoy it. There is an immense freedom involved with it. I spend so much time stuffed into my white shirt and tie and doctor's lab coat, it's just extremely liberating to wear nothing at all around the house. If you're okay with it, I want to keep it up."
"That's cool I guess. I like being naked too, I can't lie. But you said it's partially my fault, what's the other part?"
"Oh, well that's the part I came up to your room to discuss with you. We need to do some laundry. We haven't done any since your mother left and I've run completely out of clean underwear. I was hoping you knew how to go about it. I have no idea."
"Nope, I have no idea either. Mom always just did it. I think you have to wash white stuff separately from colored stuff, though. I just remember a kid on my team showing up in pink underwear and he claimed they just got washed with a red shirt."
"I know that much myself. I'm just not sure of anything else. I have no idea how much soap to add or what else you put in the machine. I'm finding out there's a lot of things that your mother did. We're falling behind in keeping this big place up. Maybe we should move to a smaller house or even a nice apartment."
"I don't care if we move, but we have to stay within the school boundaries. I'm not changing high schools." I emphasized the NOT part.
We sat down and figured out a cleaning schedule and divided up the duties. Neither of us wanted the place to turn into a frat house or bachelor pad. Looking at the list, though, we figured we needed to hire a maid for at least a couple times per week. Between my school and wrestling schedule and his work schedule there was just no way to get all the stuff done. "Too bad we couldn't hire William's mom to come clean for us. It would be a better job than the part time one she has."
"I wouldn't be opposed to that if she were interested," said my father. "Why don't you talk to her and see if she is willing when you go over there next."
"Oh, well, I'm not so sure I'll ever be going back over."
"Why not? Did something happen between you two?"
"Oh dad, I should have listened to you. I took him to the bonfire and everything was going great. Then I left him alone for just a short time and some of Hawk's drunken buddies started messing with him. They pantsed him in front of the whole crowd and he freaked out. He was very mad at me for leaving him alone, and I've been beating myself up over it."
"Oh Kyle, I was concerned about this. People like William struggle in social situations. He can't distinguish between stupid fun and serious intent. He takes everything literally and usually boys like him are very private. He has had a very trying period in his life and I'm sure it was extremely traumatic for him. It's unusual that he was comfortable enough with you to let you into his private life as much as he did."
"So what should I do?"
"I think you just explain that you made a mistake and you're sorry. Accept the blame and ask him to forgive you. He may or he may not."
"Should I go over to his house or just wait for him to come back to school."
"I'll leave that up to your judgment."
"I just don't know. Maybe he needs some time to get over it."
"How about this, we work together to get this place back in shape and do some laundry while you think about it. If you decide to go, I'll drop you off when I go to the hospital for rounds later this afternoon."
"Deal," I agreed. I went to my bedroom and gathered up all the clothes from my basket and the overflow pile on the floor. I pulled the clothing I was wearing off and added it to the pile. I hauled it all to the laundry room in two trips and checked out the washing machine. I jotted down the make and model and pulled up information on its operation off of the internet. I located the soap and the liquid fabric softener and then spent about thirty minutes sorting dad's and my clothing into compatible piles, remaining naked. My dad smiled at me when he saw I had matched his nudity. He started singing some old song from his youth by some guy named Joe Walsh that was pretty funny.
"I got the all night Laundromat blues. Washing everything I own except my shoes," he sang out loudly. I laughed at him but I had to admit, the nudity thing really was very liberating. I was surprised how okay it felt with us just hanging out naked together. My large balls dangled and swung freely as I worked and it felt really cool. Between loads of laundry, I cleaned the kitchen and mopped the floor. I picked up stray glasses and dishes from around the house and I even scrubbed two toilets. My father cleaned his own bathroom.
At last, the final load was out of the dryer and I peeled the Bounce fabric softener sheet off of the pants leg of my jeans. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to use the liquid kind and the dryer sheets so I did just to be safe. All had gone well with my washing adventure; nothing had been dyed the wrong color, and I had folded or hung up all the clothes. I pressed this final batch of warm clothing against my naked torso and enjoyed the warmth of the freshly dried shirts and socks on my body.
My cell phone rang and I was surprised to see it was Scotty. I picked it up off the dresser and unplugged it from the charger. "Hey dude, I thought you were out running around naked in the forest."
"Hah, I was but we're back home now."
"Did you have fun?"
"Yeah, it was okay, but I was wishing you and Kirk could have come."
"Could we really? Like, is it allowed?"
"Yeah, but the problem is that a parent has to go with you on the first time and sign off that it's okay for you to join the club."
"My dad might do that."
"Yeah, I think so. We've kind of started hanging out naked around the house some. I'm actually naked right now and folding clothes while I'm talking to you. We've both been doing chores all afternoon in the buff. Weird, huh?"
"No, it's not weird. I'm a nudist remember. That's normal. That's pretty cool. You liking it?"
"Yeah, I really am. It's awesome being so free feeling and like liberated. My dad likes it too," I said.
"So, I talked to Kirk and I had to call you and tell you how sorry I feel for the way things turned out at Bodie's bonfire with William and all. That really sucks."
"Oh wow, thanks. It was so awful, dude. I feel horrible for William. I let him down so much. I have no idea how he's coping. It was so traumatic and he wouldn't even talk about it on the way home."
"Well, I was worried about you, dude. I know how much you care about him. I mean you passed up sex with my sister to go visit him even. When I heard about what happened, I thought about how sad it must have made you. So you haven't talked to him about it?"
"No; like I told you, he just kept saying 'you lied to me,' and 'you left me alone,' over and over again."
"Dude, I'm so sorry for you. Are you gonna be okay?"
"Yeah, I guess. I'm just really sad over it all. I just want him to forgive me and trust me again."
"Well you need to go talk to him right away. Today."
"I don't know. I'm thinking he needs some time to get over it."
"No, I'm telling you, the sooner you go, the more he'll believe you mean it."
"You really think so? He has a doctor's appointment tomorrow and then he'll be back at school on Tuesday and by that time, he may have gotten over some of the hurt of it."
"Bad idea. You need a private setting. I really think you need to go now. You said he got you into praying right?"
"So pray about it and follow your feelings."
"I don't know. I mean I just started the whole praying thing. I'm not sure I'd trust myself to recognize an answer from God."
"Okay, this is an order from your captain, get on your knees and pray about it and follow whatever feeling you get."
"Aye-aye captain," I said with a chuckle.
"Well, I gotta go help unload the camping shit from our trip. Hang in there, dude. I hope it all works out between you and William."
"Thanks. I appreciate your call and your thoughtfulness. Seriously, that was nice of you to think about me."
"Sure. We're Screw Crew now, right? Gotta have each other's backs you said."
"Yeah, we're crew, but you went above the call of duty here. Thanks."
"No problem, dude. Later." Scotty hung up and I plugged my phone back in. I folded the last of the t-shirts and matched up the socks. There were two of them with no mates. I used to blame mom for losing my socks, but I guess it wasn't her. "Where the hell do they go?" I wondered.
Then, I knelt beside my bed, clasped my hands and bowed my head. "Dear God, I hope you don't mind my being naked. William says you don't. I have a problem that I guess you know about. I feel so bad for William and I want to make it up to him. Can you help me? Can you help him know I didn't mean that to happen last night and that I care about him? Help me know if I should go talk to him now or if I should wait. Thanks. Amen."
I stayed still for a minute and as if someone were standing behind me, a voice spoke in my mind. "GO NOW! He needs you now!" It caused chills to run through me it was so powerful and clear. I knew for sure what I needed to do. I jumped up and put my clothes away in my room then carried my father's folded clothing downstairs to his room.
"Hey dad, anything else we need to do?"
"Just find something to eat. I appreciate all your help. It feels great to get all this stuff done," he said with an appreciative smile.
I fixed my dad and me a fancy salad for dinner with Romaine, Spinach, shredded almonds, dried cranberries, mandarin orange slices and a fat free Chinese peanut oil dressing. We chatted freely about all sorts of things as we sat at the kitchen table eating. We discussed everything from politics, to religion, to William and my problem with him, to medicine, and to my future, completely naked and completely comfortable with it. I was reminded of my naked dining experience at the Simon's household and considered telling my father about it, but decided not to for no particularly good reason. After dinner, my dad chauffeured me over to William's place and dropped me off. I waved goodbye to him as he headed off, stuffed back inside of his doctor's uniform, to check on his patients.
I took a deep breath and knocked. The barnacle opened the door. He was beer-less but clearly under the influence. "What the fuck do you want?"
"I came to see William."
"He ain't here, so you can just fuck off, you miserable little shithead. After the stunt you pulled last night, I can't believe you got the nerve to show your face here."
"Don't play stupid, doctor's brat! You drug William to that little party and set him up for humiliation. Did all your little rich buddies get a good laugh out of the freak? The pathetic loser blubbered all about it half the night, until I made him shut the fuck up."
"Listen asshole! I actually care about William. He's a wonderful, sweet, bright person in spite of the useless, miserable piece of shit he's got for a father. I wanted the party to be a positive experience for William, but things got ugly while I was distracted. I feel horrible for it and I want to apologize and make it up to him. You don't deserve such a fine son."
"Piss off! And don't come back! You're not welcome here. Ever! The last thing William needs is some rich faggot preying on him. He's already fucked up enough." The barnacle slammed the door in my face. I was incensed. I thought about pounding on the door until he opened it again and then smashing my fists into his ugly face and blackening both of his bloodshot eyes. Instead, I stormed out of the trailer park and sat on the curb fuming. The kid with the rattling, old bicycle came up to me and stopped. I paid him no attention, but he spoke to me anyway.
"You're weird Willy's friend, huh?"
I just looked up at him and nodded, yes.
"He's not home. He went to church with his mom like every Sunday. His dad's an asshole, huh? I hate it when he's mean to Willy."
Now he had my attention. "What do you mean?"
"When his mom's not home, his dad locks him out sometimes and Willy sits on the steps and cries a lot. I let him come over to my house and eat lunch with me if he gets real hungry. Sometimes I hear his old man yelling mean things at him too. But the worst part is when he hurts Willy and I hear him begging his old man to stop doing it to him."
"Doing what to him?"
"I don't know. Willy just says nothing."
"People around here know he abuses William and they don't call the cops?" I asked incredulous.
"My mom tried before, but the cops don't do nothing cuz Willy tells them nothing happened, and he don't got no marks on him anywhere."
Now I really did want to kill the bastard. Now it was time to scrape the miserable barnacle off for good and destroy him. I remembered how William evaded my question about whether his old man abused him by telling me about the barnacle having the largest penis of any organism. The possible correlation of the parable sickened me. I feared the worst but hoped I was wrong. I wondered if it also explained William's quick judgment that I was gay. I worried just how horrible his old man really was. I pulled my phone and sent my father a text.
"You know what church they go to?" I asked the kid.
"Yeah, same one we go to sometimes. Mostly just at Christmas and Easter. It's the one with the big white cross out front down on Maple Street."
"For letting me know what's going on with Willy. I want to help him."
"Oh good. But how?"
"I have an idea." The boy smiled and rode off when he saw some playmates down the street.
My father replied that he was able to finish up quickly and come get me. He asked if I was safe and I answered that I was, but to please hurry; I needed his help with something important.