The Jerk-Off - 2. Chapter 2 The Cookout

Lee Ledecker, or Deck as almost everyone referred to him, stood on a rock overlooking Ledecker Island’s shoreline, hands on his hips, staring across the bay to the mainland. He let out a long breath, trying to release some of the tension he was wrestling with.

Just turned forty, the prodigal son, numero uno, heir to the throne. Well, still awaiting his ascent to the throne. Standing in his way—his younger brother Dick, his little brother Louie, and his baby sister Linda. And, of course, that damn will. 5’10,” still claiming to have a 34-inch waist although, secretly, he’d had to have most of his pants let out a good inch. Brown straight hair, a “corporate” haircut, brown eyes. A hefty build, although he hadn’t lifted weights in a few years.

Everything seemed to fall into place in one sad moment.

As their dad struggled with his last dying breaths, he turned his head to Deck and gasped, “Son, no matter what, this island belongs to you, from now until forever.”

He remembered staring at his dad, mouth open, unable to speak. Linda sat back in her chair, a tight-lipped grimace on her face. Dick slapped his forehead. Louie cried. A few hours later, Arthur Ledecker went to his Maker.

Just as the Dutton’s were to the television series, Yellowstone, or the Roy family was to Succession, the Ledecker’s were to Bay Lake. It’s mass serving to help form several bays in the northern half of the lake, Ledecker Island dominated every view from the mainland. Up until the mid-seventies it was officially called Oak Island. That all changed when Arthur Ledecker gained full ownership from Bing Casawan during a high stakes poker game.

At first, used mostly for short excursions and some overnight camping adventures, the island was left pretty much in its natural state until the mid-eighties. That’s when Arthur and his wife Gwinnie decided to take up summertime residence.

They built a modest cabin on the southeast side of the island, first without plumbing or electricity. That didn’t stop the Ledecker kids from having all kinds of fun exploring, building forts and tree houses, and playing elaborate games of hide and seek. Later, a well was dug, a septic system was installed, and Arthur paid the power company an obscene amount of money to run an electrical cable underwater from the mainland.

When Arthur decided to step back from his highly successful excavation business and hand over the operations to Deck, their eldest, Arthur and Gwinnie moved to the island full time. During three seasons of the year, they boated back and forth for groceries, shopping, and an occasional dinner out. In the coldest part of the year, they waited patiently for the lake to freeze over, after which they either drove their truck or snowmobiled across the lake to the mainland.

Ten years ago, Gwinnie had just finished going through the fresh produce aisle at the Super One when she went down. And out. Aortic aneurysm, dead before she hit the floor. Afterwards, Arthur became increasingly depressed and reclusive. The cancer diagnosis, when it came, was almost welcome. Death couldn’t come soon enough.

Linda or Linnie Lee as almost everyone called her, pulled the document part way out of the legal size manila envelope. It was only about an eighth of the way out before the words, “Last Will and Testament” appeared near the top of the page. She looked quickly around to see if any of her brothers was watching. Pulling the rest of the paper out, she immediately perused the first page, flipping quickly to the second.

The day after the funeral, the four Ledecker kids had descended upon Arthur and Gwinnie’s cabin to stake their claim on furniture, Knick-knacks, and other mementos. Linnie Lee had actually been looking for a solid brass bulldozer paper weight when she discovered the will stuck in the bottom of a desk drawer.

A smile came over her face.

“Well!” She exclaimed with a chuckle.

Dear brother Deck, she thought sarcastically, is going to get his. Moments later, her siblings gathered so close around her she could hardly breathe. They all read the second paragraph on page two. Instead of Deck getting sole and complete ownership of Ledecker Island, it was to be divided equally between the four of them. The terms even included a surveyor drawn map delineating each parcel, one for each kid, a fifth one that included Arthur’s cabin, donated to some obscure non-profit.

“Fuck that!” Deck yelled.

Well, fucking that wasn’t good enough. They all lawyered up in the blink of an eye, lawsuits and counter law suits flying like screech owls on a dark night. After a judge rendered his opinion, the properties were finally divided in accordance to the written will. But, the bitterness between the Ledecker kids lingered.

While the war of words continued, four houses of varying quality sprung up like weeds. Louie Lee started with a tent replaced eventually with something akin to a shack. Dickie Lee somehow got an old house boat pulled up on his northeast facing parcel. After making some relatively crafty modifications, it looked like something between a mobile home and a cabin. Linnie Lee bought a kit house out of a catalog. After scratching their chins and a few other places, a couple of local carpenters got it put together.

Deck went the full mile. He hired one of those log cabin architects from St. Paul. An elegant structure sprang up on the southwest section, complete with a great room, vaulted ceiling, stone fireplace, and two bedrooms. One for himself, the other for his darling daughter, Cutie. In the midst of all the legal wrangling, Deck jettisoned his now former wife, Suzanne. That hadn’t exactly been the plan but, that’s the way it worked out, after she discovered him porking a nineteen-year-old ex-high school cheerleader.

Tonight was the night. After barely speaking to each other for the last five years, the Ledecker kids had agreed to meet at Arthur and Gwinnie’s place. In spite of the past, both distant and recent, Deck was prepared to finesse his brothers and sister, and get them the hell off of his island.

After several meetings and some dick sucking, figuratively speaking, he’d gotten his bank to commit to three million buckaroos to buy out his brothers and sister. A million each. The problem was that he was already leveraged to the hilt. Lines of credit, equipment financing, bridge loans. Deck’s credit had reached its limit with no wiggle room. The bank insisted on a primary position in the land purchase, taking seconds and thirds on almost everything else.

“Not a cent more!” Fritz Wold, the bank’s president yelled in exasperation at the end of the negotiations.

“Awww, Fritz!” Deck exclaimed using his best butt licker smile. “It’s gonna work out just great!” Deck smirked. Of course, he thought, if I can twist my brothers’ and sister’s arms just right, I could get them to fold for a lot less. Maybe pocket the difference or use it as a down payment on that New York penthouse.

But, first the cookout. Deck turned away, heading to the kitchen to oversee the preparations for his fifty or so guests before he fired up the grill.

***

Thayer let go of the throttle of the Yamaha F25 outboard, the Dunn family’s weathered wooden skiff slowing as he approached the shore of Ledecker Island.

After work, he ran home and jumped in the shower to wash off the fish smell that clung to him, even through his clothes, and the stale spunk on his stomach. Looking down at his thickening cock, he wondered if he had time to get off again before the cookout. Instead, a sudden impulse came over him. Grabbing his mom’s razor, he ran it over the top of his dark pubic hair. It was still pretty much confined to his pubic bone, not yet having spread across to his hips or down his thighs. He wasn’t going to take it all off. Maybe just a trim around the edges. Lifting his shaft up, he carefully ran the razor lightly over his nut sack, even though his balls were still mostly hairless.

He’d never thought of doing something like this. The idea came from Rome. Yesterday, he’d confided to Thayer that he’d shaved himself completely.

“Wanna see? I’ll show ya,” Romey offered.

“Ah, no thank you very much,” Thayer immediately responded. The idea of seeing Romey’s bald junk made him want to gag.

Cutie stood a few feet off the shoreline, a grin on her face, something akin to the cat that ate the canary.

Thayer half smiled, half grimaced in return, all the while thinking, my crotch itches so bad, I think I’m gonna die!

Wearing short shorts that were so tight and smooth they looked almost as if they’d been painted on her tight little butt, Cutie paraded Thayer around the cookout, her fingers wound around the pinkie and fourth finger of his hand. Her blonde hair was pulled neatly back on one side with a broach, eye make-up done just perfectly. A sweet musky perfume tickled Thayer’s nose.

“Howdy!”

The greeting was so sharp, so sudden, Thayer tripped over his own feet. They both twirled around, looking up at the smiling boy towering over them.

“Jeez, C.O.! I didn’t even see you get here!” Cutie squealed, throwing her arms up around his neck.

Clifton Owen Wilson. C.O. to most everybody. Just turned eighteen, about to enter his senior year at Brainerd High School. Star forward of the basketball team. Division One college prospect. Six-foot-two. Thick straight blond hair cut in a soup bowl style, bangs across his forehead, twinkling blue eyes.

And Gay. Unknown to everyone, barely even to himself.

Thayer looked up at C.O. in surprise, his mouth slightly open. Likewise, C.O. stared back at Thayer, feeling a shiver go down his own spine. Fuck me! That kid is cute!

Politely but firmly pushing Cutie away, C.O. proceeded to engage the two of them in some friendly banter. Well, one of them, anyway. Thayer was mostly silent, more like dumb struck. As they chatted away, his eyes dropped from C.O.’s strong jaw to his chest, staring at the way his t-shirt was so pleasantly filled out, pinpoints where his nipples pushed against the thin cotton. Muscled and tan bare arms attractively woven through with veins. Unconsciously, Thayer licked his lips, unaware that in doing so, C.O. involuntarily let out a little groan. Don’t you dare look down any further, Thayer admonished himself! One glance at C.O.’s crotch and he’d be given away.

“So, I hear ya got a job workin’ for Ten Ethyl,” C.O. said with a squirrelly smile. He brushed the hair out of his eyes. He’d picked up that little tidbit from his cousin Rome.

“Uh huh.” Thayer immediately felt tongue tied. How would he even know that? Or care, for that matter?

“And ya already got a nickname out of it,” C.O. continued, now with a twinkle in his eye.

“Well, he, ah, I mean,” Thayer stumbled on the words. He could feel himself getting red in the face.

“Boy,” C.O. chuckled. “I kinda like it!”

“You’re now ‘Boy’?” Cutie giggled, turning to Thayer. “I missed that!”

Some time later, hot dogs and hamburgers consumed, afterwards, delicious hot fudge sundaes, Cutie was able to lure Thayer into the woods behind the house. She was focused on one thing—getting her tongue inside Thayer’s mouth. Her bestie, Meredith, told her all about it. They even practiced on each other, just to see how it felt. Afterwards, they both sat back and laughed. Cutie wiped her hand across her mouth. It felt so weird kissing another girl!

Here they were, finally. Almost pitch black, a few flickers of light coming from the bonfire down by the lake. Cutie pushed Thayer back against a tree as she wound her arms around his neck. Those lips, slightly parted, looking so luscious. His brown eyes staring back at her, questioning. As she moved in closer, a sweet aroma, almost like milk, emanated from his mouth.

Nearby, C.O. stood sideways behind another tree as he tried to make himself as invisible as possible. He’d never really thought about Thayer before. His fantasies mostly surrounded being roughly taken by big burly older men with scratchy beards and nasty looking cocks. Tonight, though, something had clicked. Maybe it was that name, “Boy.” The kid was so cute with his long dark hair and pale skin. Narrow hips and a perfectly round adorable butt. Those lips, combined with the dark soulful eyes, and the thick eyebrows. He could easily understand why Rome was so obsessed with him. C.O.’s hand sneaked under the waistband of his shorts as he watched Cutie practically molest him. Melt worthy or cum worthy, something like that, he thought.

Thayer resisted the urge to gag. Cutie’s tongue felt like it was halfway down his throat. At first shocked when her tongue pushed his teeth apart. Then, he went with it. Her lips were so moist and she smelled so good. Cutie raised her knee a bit, using her thigh to nudge his legs apart. Just like that, he was hard. Instinct took over as he began to push himself against her leg. Is this what they mean by getting dry humped, he asked himself?

With his left hand wrapped around his own thick seven-incher, C.O. felt himself already getting close. That delicious ache just before. As he expelled a gasp, he heard the faint sound of a twig breaking behind him. A rush of air, an acrid peppery smell. Then all went black.

“What was that?” Cutie peeled her lips away from Thayer. She’d heard a soft thump nearby.

Thayer was oblivious, lost in his own pre-orgasmic haze.

Pulling herself back and dropping her knee away from his throbbing cock, she turned and grabbed Thayer’s hand.

“C’mon. Let’s go.”