Poor Man's Son - 28. Chapter 27

July 27, 2000

Claremont, OH

Gathan

I lugged some stuff down to the Tahoe, and then went back up to finish packing up my room. I didn’t really realize how much crap I’d been able to cram in my half of our small room.

“You moving out?” an unfriendly voice asked. Zach.

“Yep,” I said, hoping he’d leave me alone. I figured that he had when I heard the door shut.

“Hey Gathan, one more time, before you go,” he said. I turned and he was unbuckling his pants.

“Dude, there is no way I’m going to fuck you,” I said. That really pissed him off.

“I wonder what Kristin would say if she found out you fucked me,” he said, with his scheming expression.

“Kristin would think I had bad taste,” I told him.

“Right. I think she’d dump you,” he said.

“You’d be wrong,” I said, zipping up my bag.

“What if I told her you raped me?” he added, giving me a shit-eating grin.

“Then it’s your word against mine,” I said. “I think she’ll believe me.”

He glared at me, having failed in his plans. “I guess we’ll just have to see about that,” he said.

“Something you may want to think about,” I said calmly, even as I got in his face. “In about two minutes, I’m out of here. After that, I can kick your ass, and no one can do anything about it.”

“You can try,” he said, saving face. We both knew he was no match for me. Yet.

“Think what you want. You’ll have to annoy other people now that I’m gone.”

I figured he’d leave, but he sat on my bed instead. “Won’t be the same. You’re the most fun to annoy.” Now he was trying to be nice.

“Sorry to ruin your fun.”

“Whatever,” he said dismissively. He got up and walked past me, then put his hand on my shoulder in what was a surprisingly affectionate gesture. “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” I said, mellowing. “You too.” He walked out of my room and I watched him go. He was an evil guy, the kind of guy that would do whatever it took to get what he wanted. He didn’t scare me, but he sure made me uncomfortable.

July 27, 2000

Rome, Italy

Will

“Where are we going?” I asked. We were clearly heading out of town, and we were in a car, not on his bike.

“It is a surprise,” he said mysteriously, which got him a frown.

“Whose car is this?” I asked.

“You are certainly full of questions,” he observed wryly.

Maybe my dad was right. Maybe I was a bit of a control freak. “I’m an inquisitive guy,” I said, but in English, since I had no idea how to phrase ‘inquisitive’ in Italian.

“What is ‘inquisitive’?” he asked.

“Someone who is always looking for answers,” I said. He just nodded. I wasn’t really paying close attention to our location until I noticed a familiar sight. “The ocean!” I exclaimed excitedly.

He smiled at my enthusiasm. “We call it a ‘sea’, but I am not sure what the difference is. It is salty and cold.”

“Pussy,” I said playfully. “It can’t be that cold.”

“It is cold,” he said firmly.

“Dude, I live in California. Our water is cold.”

“How cold?” he demanded. “It is about 20-25 degrees here.”

It took me a minute to realize he was using degrees Celsius. “That’s about 70 degrees Fahrenheit,” I said, mentally estimating the conversion. “It’s about 55-60 degrees Fahrenheit in Malibu,” I told him.

“You are right, that is cold,” he said.

“So what are we doing here?” I asked.

“We are going surfing,” He replied.

I stared at him, my mouth agape, and then I felt myself smiling. “No way!”

“Most certainly,” he said. “We are going to meet my friend Pedro, who is a very good surfer. He will help you out, and make sure the locals do not eat you.”

“Dude, I know how to surf,” I said severely.

“We will see,” he said. It irritated me that he didn’t believe me, but I let it go and took it as a challenge. What a nice guy, arranging this for me.

“Thanks,” I told him meaningfully.

“It is my pleasure,” he said, leering at me. We got to the beach and met Pedro, and it wasn’t long before we’d left poor Berto in the dust with our surf lingo.

“I called Berto and told him that today was the day,” he said. “It is not often that we get such nice southwest swells.”

I blew off the wet suit, since it was warm enough in the water, and we went to rent boards. There were some assholes hanging around the surf shop, guys I recognized on the spot. Not the guys themselves, but their type. They were locals, fiercely protective of their beach and ‘their’ waves.

“Giving lessons today, Pedro,” one guy said, being a smart ass. I felt Berto tense up, but I nudged him playfully to tell him not to worry about it. There were guys like this in Malibu too.

“I have given up on you,” Pedro said to the guy with a sneer. The other guys chuckled.

“Very funny. I mean this one.” He turned to me. “Do not drown.”

I stood there and got in his face. “I’ll surf circles around you, asshole.”

He postured back, but this wasn’t about fighting, this was about surfing. “You are not from here.”

“I live in California,” I said arrogantly.

“Ah yes. Everyone from California can surf,” he said sarcastically.

“You’re the shit?” I taunted. “Prove it.” I pushed past him and into the shop and we rented decent boards. By the time we got back out, the guy was there with some of his friends, ready to go out. I didn’t say anything and neither did Pedro, we just walked straight into the surf.

None of us had wetsuits on, and I had to hide my grimace as I hit the cold water, but I got used to it pretty quickly. We worked our way out to the deeper water where there was a break, and some really shitty waves.

It took about half an hour for that to change. I almost laughed out loud when they started to get excited at what in Malibu would be a shitty wave, but here was an amazing one. They were all babbling away, which I was learning was an Italian thing. These were talkative people. I wasn’t saying anything. This was a serious business for me: surfing.

I wanted to do something to impress these guys and shut them up, and the first wave gave me the perfect opportunity. I caught it high, which was perfect, because I carved down the face of it, did a bottom turn, then shot back up until I was airborne, pulling a perfect aerial. After the wave dumped me, I paddled back to the crowd. The guy that had been ribbing me had ridden the wave, nothing more, nothing less.

“That was pretty good,” he conceded.

“Dude, I ripped it,” I said, being cocky. I shot him a smile, which he returned. After that, I had a blast. Like I said, the waves weren’t all that great, but that made it a challenge to do something cool with them. The waves finally died, and we decided to bail.

“You are an impressive surfer,” Pedro said as we were leaving. “You should go pro.”

“I’m too lazy for that,” I joked. I’d thought about that, but I saw how obsessive JJ was over skating, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to go there with surfing. It was a passion, but I was worried that if I really competed, it would become a job, and wouldn’t be as much fun.

We got back in the car and headed back to the hotel. “You didn’t think I could surf,” I accused Berto.

“I did not say that,” he said, and looked at me admiringly. Damn, this guy was casting a spell on me.

“So what is this contest Cristo was referring to yesterday?” I asked.

He got all nervous. “It is nothing.”

“Dude, what is it? I want to know what your talents are.” He didn’t say anything. “If it’s a blow job contest, you’d win.”

He laughed at that. “If you entered, I would have tough competition.” I said nothing, just waiting to see if he’d tell me what this competition was. I think he was trying to figure out if he should or shouldn’t. “On Friday, there is a contest at the bar I told you about, the place where I hang out.”

“So it is a blow job competition.”

He laughed. “No, it is a stripping competition. We use a, how do you say, a pole.”

“You do that?” I asked curiously. “That’s sweet.”

“I think it is slutty,” he said dismissively.

“I’ll bet it’s hot,” I said encouragingly. He ignored that comment and we just talked about the city on the drive back to the hotel. “Hot tub time,” I announced when we got back.

We were soaking in the hot tub when Stef and Grand came up on the deck. Stef was dressed in a ridiculously overdone beach outfit, which we giggled at, while Grand wore a simple bathing suit. “How was your day?” Stef asked.

“It was awesome!” I told him. “We went surfing.” I told them all about it.

“That was very nice of you, Berto, to humor my grandson,” Stef said.

“Thank you,” Berto replied shyly.

Grand grabbed a lounge chair near the hot tub and pulled out a book, while Stefan stripped off all his clothes, and lay down on his stomach. He made Grand put lotion on his ass, while we snickered at them. Stef didn’t care; he had no shame.

“You are not very sensual when you put on lotion,” he said to Grand, pouting.

“I’m reading. Do you want lotion on or not?” Grand asked.

“Tomorrow Berto is going to compete in a pole dancing contest at a local gay bar,” I announced, getting a dirty look from Berto. “Can I go?”

“Are you old enough to get in?” Grand asked.

“Probably not,” I said, “but I’m hot.” Stef giggled.

“You must tell us where it is, but you can go on one condition,” Stef said.

“What?”

“Does this club have a backroom?”

“It does,” Berto said.

“You can go if you do not go back there. Nothing good can happen to you there,” Stef said. “You must promise me.”

“Fine. No backrooms for me,” I conceded.

We had a pillar in the living room, and Berto had used that to give me a lesson in pole dancing. He was really good at it; I wasn’t quite so good. Didn’t matter though, seeing him move his body like that as he took off his clothes had got me so horny, I’d dragged him back to my room to blow him. He’d reciprocated, and thinking about that now made me smile.

There was a knock at the door, heralding Stef’s arrival. “Good evening,” he said. “I thought we would dine in tonight. Berto will join us.”

“Thanks Stef. That sounds great,” I said.

“You are enjoying yourself?”

“Rome rocks,” I said simply.

“I think it is Berto who rocks,” he said. He sat down on my bed and got serious. “I fear I must truncate your fun.”

“We have to go back?” I asked.

He nodded. “JP has had his break, but it is time for him to have this surgery.” It broke my heart to see how upset that made him.

“He’ll be OK,”I said, an inane observation since I had no control over it.

“I think you are right, but it is very scary. It is not easy to find someone to love, who will love you back, and not piss you off too much.”

I laughed. “I’m finding that out.”

“I think we should go back on Saturday.”

“That works,” I said, hiding my disappointment.

“You are almost your old self again,” he said as he stood up. He tousled my hair affectionately. “It is good to have you back.”

“This trip has been good for me,” I told him. He smiled and walked out of the room, leaving me to wonder if I was talking about Rome, Paris, or both.

Berto came in next. “Where are you going for dinner tonight?” he asked.

“We’re dining in, here in the dining room,” I said. “You’re invited.”

“I am not sure that is appropriate,” he said.

“I’m sure it is, but Stef’s the one that said you have to be there, so you have to argue with him.”

“I think it would be better to just submit,” he mused.

“I wonder how many men have said that about him,” I joked.

“I have a surprise for you tonight,” he said, as he pushed me down on the bed and lay on top of me, kissing me gently.

“What is it?”

“What about the word ‘surprise’ do you not understand? Did I not do well this morning?”

“You did great this morning. That was fantastic. Just what I needed.” That had been amazing, the way he’d set that all up to make me happy. “You have to dress for dinner,” I said being playful. “After that, you can show me your strip tease.”

“You are sure you want to go tomorrow?” he asked.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“It can get a little, uh, loud and obnoxious,” he said, trying to find the words for it.

“You think I’ll get jealous when other guys grab you?” I asked. “I probably will.”

“I think it is more likely that I will get jealous when they grab you.”

I pushed him off of me. “That’s not until tomorrow. Right now, we’ve got to get ready for dinner.”

I got ready, putting on the suit I’d gotten cleaned, and went to the dining room to meet everyone. Darius and Ella were there already, leaning into each other like they did. “Hey,” he said to me in a friendly way.

“Hey. What did you two do today?”

“We wandered around the city,” Ella said wistfully. “It is so beautiful.”

“It is,” I agreed. “I went surfing.”

“In Italy?” Darius asked.

“I know. Pretty cool, huh. None of the surfers there thought I could surf.”

Darius smiled, visualizing the situation perfectly. “I bet they were surprised.”

“Fuckin’ A,” I said, and high-fived him.

“I want you to do something with me next week,” he said, getting serious.

“Sure,” I agreed, not knowing what it was. “What are we doing?”

“Going to Bakersfield. I need to meet some dude, and I want you to go with me.” In some families, this would sound like the precursor to a big drug deal, which almost made me laugh.

“You got it. I don’t think Bakersfield will be all that exciting after Rome.”

“You never know,” he said cryptically.

“Where are you going to be?” I asked Ella.

“Claremont,” she groused. “I have to pack up my things. Gathan’s going to bring them with him when he drives out later.”

“How is he doing?” I asked.

“He’s fine, only Kristin’s parents hate him,” she said as Grand and Stef breezed into the room.

“Good evening everyone,” Grand said in his social manner. “The Hendricksons hate Gathan?”

“They told Kristin that she couldn’t go out with him anymore, so she moved out,” Ella said.

“How exciting,” Stef said, more to make fun of teen drama than anything.

Just as they were sitting down, Berto walked in, looking fantastic. “You look amazing,” I said as I patted the seat next to mine.

“Thank you,” he said shyly. “This suit was in my closet with a note telling me to wear it.”

I gave Stef a knowing look. He shrugged. “It is off the rack, but fits you as if it were tailor made for you. You will keep it, as a souvenir of our time here.”

I watched him struggle, as if to argue, then he just said “Thank you.”

In my family, people are rude at dinner only to other members of the family, and then only under extreme circumstances. I knew they’d be polite to Berto, but what I didn’t expect was how nice they were. I guess after all the stress of Paris, we all just let loose. I drank a little too much wine, and that made me kind of tipsy.

It seemed like forever before we got back to my room, and by then, I was so horny I was almost beside myself. Berto put on a strip tease show for me, stripping down completely. He let me admire his body, and he allowed fleeting touches, but nothing more. “It is your turn now,” he said. He made me stand up and then moved around me, slowly removing pieces of my clothing. He made it last forever, working ever closer to me until finally we were standing there, his hands on my hips, mine around his shoulders, kissing.

“Is this my surprise?” I asked.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. He led me to the bed and pulled down the covers, then pushed me onto it, face down. I felt him on top of me, and then his hands were exploring my body. All I could do was moan uncontrollably. I felt his fingertips on my back, then lower, flitting across my ass. I spread my legs willingly, and was rewarded as his fingertips moved sensually up my crack, grazing my hole.

“Mmmm,” I moaned, and thrust back, trying to find his hand. I was getting into it, until I remembered Gustave, and how he had done the same thing to me.

“Just relax and enjoy me,” he said. I felt his lips on my neck as his fingers became more insistent, pushing at my hole. “You are such a sexy man,” he cooed.

“Is this my surprise?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said. He stopped briefly and pulled out two four-packs of condoms. One was for smaller dicks, another was for large ones. “My plan is for us to stay in bed until these are all used up.”

“You want me to fuck you?” I asked, although how I managed to sound coherent with his hands probing me was beyond my imagination.

“After I fuck you,” he said. He got off of me and stuck his dick in my face, then handed me one of the smaller condoms. “You can say no if you do not want to.”

I looked up at him and remembered that sex was a two way street, and that he had his own insecurities to deal with. If I said no now, I would be rejecting him. “I want you to,” I said. “I just...”

“What?”

I swallowed hard. “I need you to keep talking to me. I need to remember that it is you and not...”

“Put on the condom, Will,” he ordered, and I did as he said. He grabbed the lube and slathered it all over his dick then lay down on top of me again. I kind of expected him to drive right in, but he didn’t. I felt his fingers return, only all lubed up this time. “I am going to make you feel things you never imagined,” he cooed in my ear. I just moaned and thrust back into his finger, taking it inside me. He pushed in and out, finding that spot that felt so good. “You are amazing. It would be so easy to fall in love with you,” he said.

I was glad he was talking to me, because his technique was a lot like Gustave. I vowed not to think of him again, and gave myself over to the pleasure. I felt him stretch me more as he used another finger, then he pulled both of them out. “It’s time?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said, lying fully on my back now. I felt something at my ring, demanding entrance. I felt myself tense up, but he got that and stroked my sides and back. “Relax, let me in. Make us both feel so good. I will not hurt you. My dick is no bigger than the fingers you just had in you.”

I pushed back into him like I had his fingers and felt him pushing into me, felt his dick sliding into my body. “Yes, yes, that is it. You feel so good. Oh you feel so good,” he said. “Thank you so much for giving me this greatest gift. I will remember this always.”

“Ahhh,” I heard myself say, a moan full of both pain and pleasure. I felt him keep sliding in, only the pain was fading, and now it was just him.

“Being with you like this is the most exciting thing I have ever done,” he said. He began to move in and out of me, and used his hands to pull my hips up. With each thrust, I felt more comfortable, and then something clicked, not physically, but emotionally. I really really liked this guy. If I had to pick the ideal guy to get my cherry, it was him. He was older than I was, but not too old. He was masculine, with a rock hard body, but with a soft and caring side. He had an accent that ignited my mind. And he had a small dick so I could handle it.

I thrust my body back into his, and that adjusted my angle. “Yeah,” I said, in a low, guttural voice. “That’s it. That’s it. Oh God, this is amazing,” I said, reflecting my mental feelings.

“Yes, yes yes!” He cried. “You are so perfect. You are so perfect!” Then he came, slamming into me, blowing his load into the condom. I could feel his cock thrusting against my prostate, sending small waves of pleasure through my body.

He rolled off of me and pulled off the condom. He seemed sad. “That was the most amazing experience of my life,” I told him honestly.

“I came too soon,” he said sadly.

I grabbed the condom box and smiled. “Looks like you have three more tries to last longer.” He smiled back at me tentatively. “Even if you don’t, I loved that.”

“It is my turn to take you,” he insisted.

“Later,” I said. Instead, he jacked me off, and then we lay there in bed, just enjoying being with each other. In no time at all, I heard soft snores: he’d fallen asleep.

I lay there thinking about what just happened, and it was nothing like I thought it would be. Part of me had thought it would hurt like a motherfucker, and that I would be miserable afterwards. That wasn’t true. There had been pain, but it hadn’t been too bad, and I didn’t feel bad, I felt good. The other part of me thought it would be unbelievable, that I would discover some new thing, new secret, that would ignite my body. That didn’t happen either. If I was going to rate it, I’d give it a 6 out of 10. It was fun, especially giving him so much pleasure, but it was kind of gross too.

I knew I’d do it again with him when he woke up. I wanted to, because I figured that it would only get better with practice. At least that’s what I was hoping for.