car."
"Okay,
then we don't mention weekends. Maybe whoever goes can just show up the first
Friday night. Surprise!"
"Well,
sure. But there's still Grandma's room. I keep waiting for Mom to bring that up
again." He groaned some more. "The only way this is gonna fly is if
we convince the folks their plan is working, that we're not so antisocial, not
so... joined at the hip. Be the sons they want us to be."
"Like,
show an interest in the dairy or..."
“...invite
The Go-To Guy for Sunday dinner or—..."
“...those
girls from Ankeny, the ones..."
“...with
braces. They asked us if we wanted to go to the movies with em once."
"Perfect.
And, oh yeah, we gotta start talking a lot more about tits, at least in front
of the folks."
"Right.
It could work." Clark nodded to himself as much as to me. "Sure, then
probably they'll leave us alone."
"It'll
all be bullshit," I added, as much for me as for him, "but we're both
getting to be pretty good actors."
Clark
nodded. "If we play our roles right, shit, I'll bet we can at least be
together weekends."
"Yeah,
but what about weekdays? Were horny all the time—weekdays, too." I groped
myself. "Like right now."
He
grinned and groped himself, too. "Almost done. The only real ques tion left is: Who goes, who stays?"
"You
want to go?" I asked.
Clark
shook his head. "Probably you should. You're the one who knows about cars.
I could never fix one up without you; I just read magazines about em."
I
swallowed. "Okay."
"Well,
that's that." His elbows collapsed, and he was now flat on his back.
"You want to see something?"
"What?"
In
answer, he threw his long Olympic legs in the air and scooted out of his
shorts. All I could see at first was his butt lift off the ground, and I
wondered briefly why I'd never paid much attention to it before. It was—there's
no other word—nice.
I kept
looking. The next thing I noticed was that it was framed by two thin, white
straps. I looked again. He was wearing his jockstrap! Then he lowered his legs
slowly to reveal the mesh pouch. It seemed filled to bursting, as if loaded
with yeasty bread rising in a hot oven.
He
kneaded himself lazily. "Guess I'm kinda horny, too..."
My mouth
dropped open. "You shit!" Now it was my turn to throw my own legs in
the air, peel off my shorts, and reveal that I too was wearing my jockstrap. I
glanced down; my pouch was also packed. From the look in his eyes, I knew I
wasn't the only one who liked what he saw. I spoke first.
"I
wanted to surprise you."
"I
wanted to surprise you! "
We dove
for each other, and as the noonday sun baked our flesh, we worked each other to
orgasm twice before we heard a tractor chugging near, then saw it only three
rows over. Breathlessly, we used our jocks to clean up as best we could and
made our escape. Clark stuffed mine in his hip pocket and tossed me his.
"Here,"
he said. "I'm keepin ' yours."
On the
way home, we stopped at Walgreens. While Clark flirted with the Asian girl, I
did the shopping: two cartons of Marlboros, two Bic lighters, two copies of Motor Trend, three
more spiral notebooks (plus another ballpoint pen), two cans of Burma Shave,
and a packet of disposable razors. My backpack was bulging, but Mr. Johnson
didn't seem to notice.
Mom was
on the porch waiting when we pulled up.
I barely
stopped to kiss her cheek as I passed her on my way into the house.
"Relax."
The
screen door slammed behind me.
My
brother added, "Mom, why don't you go find Dad? He ought to be here,
too."
"Your
father?" She seemed genuinely surprised.
Clark
kissed her on the forehead. "You know. Your husband. Doesn't he have a
stake in this?"
"Or
is it all your doing?" I asked through the door.
She
wheeled around. "What do you mean by that?"
Clark
opened the screen door and joined me inside, his arm dangling over my shoulder.
The door slammed shut.
"Nothing.
Don't be paranoid. Now if you'll excuse us..."
“...we
have to go shave and shower."
"Shave?
You boys are shaving
"Okay,
then we don't mention weekends. Maybe whoever goes can just show up the first
Friday night. Surprise!"
"Well,
sure. But there's still Grandma's room. I keep waiting for Mom to bring that up
again." He groaned some more. "The only way this is gonna fly is if
we convince the folks their plan is working, that we're not so antisocial, not
so... joined at the hip. Be the sons they want us to be."
"Like,
show an interest in the dairy or..."
“...invite
The Go-To Guy for Sunday dinner or—..."
“...those
girls from Ankeny, the ones..."
“...with
braces. They asked us if we wanted to go to the movies with em once."
"Perfect.
And, oh yeah, we gotta start talking a lot more about tits, at least in front
of the folks."
"Right.
It could work." Clark nodded to himself as much as to me. "Sure, then
probably they'll leave us alone."
"It'll
all be bullshit," I added, as much for me as for him, "but we're both
getting to be pretty good actors."
Clark
nodded. "If we play our roles right, shit, I'll bet we can at least be
together weekends."
"Yeah,
but what about weekdays? Were horny all the time—weekdays, too." I groped
myself. "Like right now."
He
grinned and groped himself, too. "Almost done. The only real ques tion left is: Who goes, who stays?"
"You
want to go?" I asked.
Clark
shook his head. "Probably you should. You're the one who knows about cars.
I could never fix one up without you; I just read magazines about em."
I
swallowed. "Okay."
"Well,
that's that." His elbows collapsed, and he was now flat on his back.
"You want to see something?"
"What?"
In
answer, he threw his long Olympic legs in the air and scooted out of his
shorts. All I could see at first was his butt lift off the ground, and I
wondered briefly why I'd never paid much attention to it before. It was—there's
no other word—nice.
I kept
looking. The next thing I noticed was that it was framed by two thin, white
straps. I looked again. He was wearing his jockstrap! Then he lowered his legs
slowly to reveal the mesh pouch. It seemed filled to bursting, as if loaded
with yeasty bread rising in a hot oven.
He
kneaded himself lazily. "Guess I'm kinda horny, too..."
My mouth
dropped open. "You shit!" Now it was my turn to throw my own legs in
the air, peel off my shorts, and reveal that I too was wearing my jockstrap. I
glanced down; my pouch was also packed. From the look in his eyes, I knew I
wasn't the only one who liked what he saw. I spoke first.
"I
wanted to surprise you."
"I
wanted to surprise you! "
We dove
for each other, and as the noonday sun baked our flesh, we worked each other to
orgasm twice before we heard a tractor chugging near, then saw it only three
rows over. Breathlessly, we used our jocks to clean up as best we could and
made our escape. Clark stuffed mine in his hip pocket and tossed me his.
"Here,"
he said. "I'm keepin ' yours."
On the
way home, we stopped at Walgreens. While Clark flirted with the Asian girl, I
did the shopping: two cartons of Marlboros, two Bic lighters, two copies of Motor Trend, three
more spiral notebooks (plus another ballpoint pen), two cans of Burma Shave,
and a packet of disposable razors. My backpack was bulging, but Mr. Johnson
didn't seem to notice.
Mom was
on the porch waiting when we pulled up.
I barely
stopped to kiss her cheek as I passed her on my way into the house.
"Relax."
The
screen door slammed behind me.
My
brother added, "Mom, why don't you go find Dad? He ought to be here,
too."
"Your
father?" She seemed genuinely surprised.
Clark
kissed her on the forehead. "You know. Your husband. Doesn't he have a
stake in this?"
"Or
is it all your doing?" I asked through the door.
She
wheeled around. "What do you mean by that?"
Clark
opened the screen door and joined me inside, his arm dangling over my shoulder.
The door slammed shut.
"Nothing.
Don't be paranoid. Now if you'll excuse us..."
“...we
have to go shave and shower."
"Shave?
You boys are shaving
Similar Books
