[Note: This work has six chapters, the posting of which should be completed by 15 January 2016.]
Danny was concentrating on the probability examples in his textbook that he didn’t realize that he had the dog tags in his mouth, sucking on them as was one of his bad habits, until he heard the chuckle from across the library table. He looked up into the smiling face of the guy he’d seen there several times earlier. He was always smiling at Danny—not concentrating on anything of his own, although he had papers fanned out in front of him. He was just smiling at Danny.
Embarrassed, Danny tucked the dog tags back inside his T-shirt. He didn’t like showing them, even though they gave him comfort. The tags were all he had left of his dad—his real dad. They were all of his dad that had come back from Iraq and had been given to him. They were reminders of times more settles, happier, when he could have given a smiling definition to the word “family.”
The man reached over and slid the book Danny had laying beside his school texts across the table, turned it to where he could read the title, and looked up and smiled at Danny again. it was a copy of Andrew Holleran’s Dancer from the Dance that Danny had sneaked into his house. He kept it hidden at the back of the bookcase in his room behind his sci-fi fantasy books when he wasn’t taking it out of the house to enjoy some place where his mother or Floyd wouldn’t see it. But he didn’t really have to hide it in the house, he thought. His mother was a crummy housekeeper; years ago she had declared she wouldn’t come in his room again until he picked up all his clothes—and she’d kept to that promise. He didn’t think that Floyd paid any attention to books—it was just the magazines and posters that he zeroed in on.
Holleran had opened up a new world for Danny. He’d had no idea the gay lifestyle could go on in the open like that—and so close to where he lived, in dull Plainview, the name of which explained it all. In Plainview, everything was in plain view and it was all tawdry and dull. They were practically in the suburbs of New York City, and Danny had never even gone that far from Plainview in his life. And to think, from Holleran’s descriptions, that there was this whole other life, out in the open, in another direction from Plainview, but not even as far away as New York City was. Fire Island was settling in Danny’s brain as some sort of Disneyland out there for guys who liked guys—and who did something about it.
But he was mortified that the man had seen what he was reading. Did the man know about the book—what it was about? His smile seemed to indicate that he did. Danny reached over and slid the book back to his side of the table and bent down and put it in his book bag. He tried to return to studying his probability book and not looking at the man. But he couldn’t stop thinking about him. He’d been thinking about the man quite a bit the last couple of weeks. Whenever Floyd went at him, he thought about the man. The man was a lot better looking than Floyd—and younger too. He might be thirty or more or less. Danny couldn’t tell, and he hadn’t put a lot of thought into that question anyway. The man had a strong-featured face and all of his hair. Floyd didn’t have all of his hair. He was trim and well-muscled and he dressed like he had money. Floyd was an auto mechanic—and dressed like one, and always had oil stains on him like one.
Floyd didn’t compare in looks. Danny hadn’t been able to avoid thinking how the man compared with Floyd in other respects. Danny had come to grips with his wants and desires—that his desires were for men. He just hadn’t done anything with anyone but Floyd—yet—although he was building up to it. And it had taken him time to become resolved to getting it from Floyd. He was embarrassed now that he not only let Floyd do those things to him but that he looked forward to it. Still, there must be more than what he got from Floyd. The Holleran book had indicated that there was more—that it could be more satisfying, that it could be better, less humiliating.
Danny wondered if his mother knew what he and Floyd did—what Floyd came to him for. Danny didn’t know the answer to that, but he did know that there wasn’t anything he could tell his mother about Floyd. His mother thought that Floyd was the best thing that ever happened to them.
“He wants to be a father to you, Danny,” she’d said when she told him that Floyd had finally offered to marry her—after nearly a year of sleeping with her here in the house. “And he wants to help you. He’ll put you through the community college here—and god knows how we’d manage that without him. He makes good money. He’s probably the best auto mechanic in town. Everyone wants him working on their car. He’ll bring us some comfort.”
And of course she was right about the stability Floyd had brought to them. He’d saved them from living from day to day not knowing if his mother’s tips at the beauty parlor would be enough to carry them to the end of Avcılar Escort each month.
And Danny had never seen his mother this happy before. The nights Floyd put on Country and Western music had become a signal that they’d be bumping the headboard of their bed against his bedroom wall that night. Danny had come to hate the Country and Western music. The next morning after it had played, though, his mother would be humming and dancing around the kitchen when he got up to make the bus out to the community college. His mother was well fucked now. He’d have to give Floyd credit for that.
Yep, Floyd was taking care of them both all right. He didn’t give any signals when he took Danny, though. He just did it. And, to Danny’s embarrassment, if he went a week without doing it, Danny began to crave it.
Danny took a peek in the direction of the man sitting across from him again, intrigued and considering what the possibilities were. He hadn’t had the opportunity—or, perhaps, the courage—to go with anyone else other than Floyd yet, although the Holleran book had given him ideas, urges. When Danny took that peek, though, the man wasn’t there, across the table, anymore.
“If you’re interested, meet me in the men’s room on the first floor of the stacks. It will be private enough there. But if you want more, more privately, I will take you somewhere.”
The man was standing beside Danny, bending low and whispering in his ear. He had a hand possessively on Danny’s arm, right under his bicep, and that sent a shiver of thrill up Danny’s spine.
“Excuse me?” Danny said, truly flustered.
“You know I’ve been watching you. I know what you want. I can give it to you. First floor stacks men’s room.”
The man was gone, leaving Danny to redden up. He gathered up his books with shaking hands and stuffed them into his briefcase. He was trembling as he found the stairs and descended to the first floor and then back to the stacks. He had no idea where the men’s room was down here, but it didn’t matter. He had no intention of meeting with this man either. He had his urges, yes, but now that he could act on them, he was frightened silly about doing so.
But then he was there, facing the door of the men’s room. He reached out for the handle, but the motion was arrested by the giggling growing louder from the shelves to his left. Two young women and a young man emerged from down the dimly lit line of the bookcases.
“I’ll catch up with you. Gotta stop here a minute,” the young man said to the women. Danny stepped to the side as the man brushed past him and entered the men’s room.
Danny turned and looked sheepishly at the two women. They smiled at him in passing. Then he turned and escaped down a line of shelves until he was at an exit stairway. He argued with himself all the way home. Someday he’d have the courage. He’d been right there; he would have gone in if the other guy hadn’t shown up. He wanted to experience it all. But he just didn’t know where—and how to start. As he walked, he thought about the Holleran book. Perhaps that was telling him where and how to start.
* * * *
“Come over here. Give me some sugar.”
Danny’s eyes opened wide in panic. It was daytime. Nearly noon on a Saturday. Danny was just coming back from studying in the library. His mother was going to fix him lunch. Floyd should be at the garage, working on people’s cars.
But there was no sign of his mother in the kitchen, which opened out into this combined living room-dining room space. And Floyd was sitting in his recliner; pointed at the TV, where a college football game was playing. He was sprawled, beer in hand, and just in his briefs.
“Where’s Ma? Why aren’t you—?”
“Your ma got called into the parlor. They’re shorthanded. We had a fire in bay one. The garage is shut down for the day. Sos I thought I’d watch Florida State get creamed and maybe get myself some of that there sweet young guy poontang. Had a hard time waiting for you. Didn’t really wait, though.”
He laughed and Danny’s eyes went down to Floyd’s groin, where a big, almost-black cock was laying in his hand outside of his fly, half hard.
“Floyd,” Danny managed in a strangled voice. “It’s afternoon. It’s daylight.”
“And when you get fucked in the dark, it don’t count. Right? Get your sweet ass over here, and don’t be a crybaby. You can’t fool me. You pant for it.”
“You make me come and get you, and it will go hard for you. You don’t think I can track you down? Come on get on over here. And get on your knees.”
Before he realized he was doing it, Danny was on his knees between Floyd’s spread thighs and working that big, brown cock with his mouth. Floyd leaned over him and pushed his gym shorts and briefs down to below his butt cheeks and was fingering his hole.
“OK, time to sit on it.”
“No, Floyd. Night’s different. Can’t be doing this all of the . . . no please, Floyd. Oh, god, no. NO! Oh Shit!”
Danny Avcılar Escort Bayan was sitting on Floyd’s buried cock, both of them facing the TV, watching Florida State celebrate from recovering the football.
Floyd was humming, working Danny’s nipples under his T-shirt and hooking his chin on Danny’s shoulder, watching the TV. Otherwise he wasn’t moving, although his cock was slowly sinking farther up Danny’s channel.
Danny was panting and groaning. “Floyd.”
“You want it. I know you want it; you know you want it.”
“Floyd, let loose of those dog tags, man. Let loose, or, I swear I’m outa here.”
Floyd had inadvertently grabbed onto the dog tags hanging around Danny’s neck while he was playing Danny’s nipples, rubbing them against Danny’s chest.
“You ain’t leaving me. Not ’till I’m finished. You want it bad.” But he did release the dog tags, and Danny whipped the chain holding them over his head, put them down on the side table next to the chair, and slid them under a drink coaster. Turning his attention back on Floyd, Danny widened his stance, letting the cock sink deeper inside him. Floyd made little thrusts up with his hips, groaning and grunting, but then he tightened his embrace of Danny. Danny had had his eyes closed and was concentrating hard on the movement of the cock inside him—pushing his mind to the feel of the taking and trying to shut out the reality of the taker. Not being able to continue the action brought him back into the present. His eyes opened, seeing the football teams clashing together in the TV picture tube.
“Floyd, no. Oh shit.” Danny was trembling. Floyd was holding him close, still. They were over the edge now. This was where Danny just gave up and let Floyd start a rhythm of deep pumping. But that wasn’t happening. Floyd had stopped and was just holding Danny in place. Then, slowly, Floyd let his arms fall away to outside the armrests, and Danny felt Floyd’s legs relax.
Was Floyd telling him it was over—that he’d just been teasing and wouldn’t fuck him? Danny was confused.
“Fuck yourself. Show Daddy how much you want it.”
“Noooo,” Danny whimpered. Letting Floyd fuck him was one thing. Wanting it and fucking himself on it—in broad daylight—was something else altogether. At night, being invaded in his bed, he could think that wasn’t really his choice. He had comforted himself with that thought, no matter how silly and fallacious it was.
“You do it. You want it. You’re hard, you’re beside yourself with want. You do it.”
Floyd waited him out. With a sob, Danny started to rotate on the cock and then to rise and fall on it, using the leverage of the soles of his feet on the carpet.
“That’s right. I knew it. You want it; can’t get enough of it. I’ll just provide the pole. You’ll ride it because you want me.”
Mortified by what Floyd was saying—and more so because he was right—Danny used his stepdad’s staff to pleasure himself.
Floyd began to breath heavily and was having a hard time holding off and letting Danny do all the driving. With a laugh, he gave up, pushed Danny’s torso forward and then grabbed his wrists and bowed Danny’s chest up and back—Floyd’s favored fuck position. Danny started to fuck himself on Floyd’s cock in earnest—and Floyd started to do his part in the thrust-counterthrust department.
“Touchdown, Florida State,” the announcer on the TV screamed. With a cry, Danny ejaculated. And then just to be in the spirit of the occasion, Floyd allowed himself to ejaculate too.
“Get me another beer.”
“I gotta go study, Floyd.”
“After you get me another beer.”
Danny went for the beer, set it down on the table beside Floyd, and turned to leave.
He was stopped by a vice grip on his wrist.
“We only did it once. That’s not fair to you. I know you want it a second time.”
“I really gotta go study, Floyd.”
“OK,” Floyd said, his face set in a lopsided grin. “You go on now.”
Danny only made it to just inside the hallway to the bedrooms. Floyd was on his back, forcing him to the carpet. Then he had an arm under Danny, palming his belly, and forcing him up on his knees. He crouched over Danny’s hips, thrust inside the young man’s channel roughly, and reached for his wrists. Bowing Danny’s chest back by pulling his arms back tightly, he swiftly and expertly fucked Danny a second time. Afterward he just let Danny sink to the carpet and went back to the TV set.
Danny lay there, moaning and hating himself. Floyd hadn’t lied. The second time had been the best.
* * * *
Danny lifted his head and smelled the sea breezes. The tangy scent surprised him. The beach had been another place he never had gone in his eighteen years. Plainview didn’t have a beach. Plainview didn’t have much of anything. Danny knew that he knew nothing of life. He was no more than weaknesses—wants he couldn’t control. The wants were OK. He’d come to accept that, but he wanted much more than he had Escort Avcılar been getting.
He stood for a few minutes just off to the side from where he’d climbed down from the bus from Plainview to Cherry Grove. He had his duffle in one hand and his copy of Holleran’s Dancer from the Dance in the other. He’d been reading in that all the way from Plainview, across the Robert Moses Causeway, and onto the barrier island, Fire Island. What he had read in Holleran’s book about life on Fire Island as well as in Manhattan’s gay baths had moved him to action. He’d do New York City later—when he was experienced and wouldn’t embarrass himself.
For now, he just wanted to experience anything he could get here. He wanted to let it all out—to know what this lifestyle was all about in its most hedonist practices. Then he would decide what part of it was for him. He just wanted to be free of the limitations of Plainview and Floyd’s tacky world—and be someplace he didn’t have to pretend—or wonder how it would be. Holleran—and then what Danny had been able to check out on the Internet—painted Fire Island as a place where there would be no embarrassment in being what he wanted to be and experiencing what he wanted to discover.
He’d left that morning to go to the college for classes. That’s why he couldn’t take more than the duffle. He hadn’t told them he was leaving—either at home or at the college. He probably should have said something to his mother. She deserved some sort of explanation—really some warning. But she was happy with the way things were. If she was going to notice that anything was wrong, she would have done so by now.
He’d found it was going to get out of control. His stepfather, Floyd, had sniffed around him all morning Sunday, even with Danny’s mother in the house. He’d called Danny down to the basement and fucked him up against the cinderblock wall, with Danny’s mother humming and fixing a meal in the kitchen above their heads.
“We can. I like it like this. Just a bit of danger. You never knowing when you’ll get it. Doin’ it right under Mavis’s nose.”
Floyd was escalating his possession. Something had to give soon.
There was no Country and Western music Sunday night, which gave Danny time to pack as much as he could in his duffle. He left for class Monday morning and was on Fire Island before anyone would miss him.
Danny absentmindedly reached up to his neck and fished the dog tabs out of his T. He rubbed them between his fingers as he looked around, trying to focus. The familiar feel of the tags between his fingers was helping him to steady the flip-flopping going on in his stomach. He’d never been this far away from Plainview.
A young man brushed his arm in passing and turned and gave Danny a smile and an assessing look. Danny shivered in the newness and openness.
“Hi, yourself,” Danny answered. The guy was young and built and just in a Speedo. Chocolate brown. Danny’s mind went to the blackness of Floyd’s cock and set him to wondering. Maybe that’s why the guy continued. Maybe there was something of acceptance, want, in Danny’s face.
“You new here?”
“Yep. Just got off the bus.”
“No. I just came on a whim. Don’t even have a job here.”
“You know what Fire Island is all about?”
“I . . . I think so. It’s why I’m here.”
“Come with me. I want to show you something.”
What the black dude had to show Danny—the first thing he had to show Danny—was out on the boardwalk, with a beach beyond it. There were a lot of good-looking men out on the beach.
“It looks like a public toilet.”
“Yep, that’s it—a dressing house, really, for changing into and out of bathing suits. As good a place as any.”
“As good a place for what?” Danny asked.
The young black dude didn’t answer.
When they entered a guy was knelt in front of another guy, giving him head. The two didn’t miss a beat, and sounds of sex were coming from one of the two cubicles. The black guy showed Danny the second thing he had to show him, which made Danny gasp and shudder, and then he fucked Danny in the other cubicle, with Danny leaning over the broken john, hands splayed on the tiled wall behind, and the black guy fucking him from the rear. His cock proved to be as black as Floyd’s was.
Danny felt his dad’s dog tags slip into his mouth. The big black guy had gotten hold of the chain, which had moved up to Danny’s head and was using it like reins. It must have given him the feel that he was riding Danny like a horse, because he was also doing some “Yipyiyaying” and slapping Danny’s buttocks as he rode his ass. Danny ground his teeth into the tin metal, conscious that he might be marring the surface and ashamed that his dad was here for this. But he wasn’t ashamed for himself. This was a release for him, getting casually fucked like this by a young stud. This is exactly why he’d come here.
“Nice tight ass,” the black guy whispered in Danny’s ear after he’d finished. “You can tell your friends back in whatever Podunk town you came from that you got fucked good right off the bus and for them to come on down too. We’re always up for fresh male pussy on the island. Good for you too, wasn’t it? Best fucking you’ve had?”