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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

My Jump Off - 7. Chapter 7

From the spot where Phillip and I were sitting with our crowd, I could see the lights that illuminated the Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel. It was truly one of the most brilliant sights I had seen in my life. The waves of the choppy Atlantic Ocean were visible under the bridge, even from where we were sitting almost ten miles away. A steady stream of headlights were slowly advancing in both directions, enhancing the breath taking view of the awesome structure that I had always been fascinated with.

I had never actually gone across the bridge tunnel, but I always wanted to. When I was ten, I asked my folks why we had never driven across it, and their short and simple reply was that we never had a reason to go that way. In the years that passed, I put it out of my mind. But every once in a while, my mind would drift back to that mysterious structure that I wanted to conquer.

As we sat on the beach and hit the joint that everyone was passing around, I let my mind wander, studying the cars as they crossed. I thought about the cars heading away from Virginia Beach, knowing that they were using the very bridge I longed to cross for so many years to reach their destination. I wondered to myself where they were headed. Maybe they were going to stop along the Eastern Shore. Maybe they were going to New Jersey. Or maybe they were going somewhere else that I hadn't heard of.

The cars traveling toward Virginia Beach were making my mind stir as well. I thought about where they might be coming from. Maybe they were coming to the Tidewater area for a vacation. Or perhaps they were coming home from a trip. The more I thought about it, the more I longed to take just one car ride across the great bridge tunnel.

The air was crisp, the winds were fast, and we were being peppered with a cool, refreshing spray from the water. We were taking great care to shield the joint we were smoking, but the truth was that we were all enjoying the ambiance of the evening. It was as if we were all on the same wave length, sharing the same feeling of liberation from our problems.

The conversation amongst us this evening was inspired by ennui. I for one was content to just sit quietly and absorb the cool night air and watch the cars move in each direction of the bridge tunnel before my curfew was up, but it wasn't to be. My buddy Kyle Kammersguard decided to engage me.

"So what's up, Fedina?" he said. "I heard you were tearing it up on your bike out in Pungo today."

"Yeah," I said as I shrugged nonchalantly, not feeling very interested in the topic of my bike.

Kyle Kammersguard, or Kyle K, as we always referred to him, was one of my best friends. He had been in our group since we were in elementary school, along with his best friend, Kyle Pelton, also a good friend to Phillip and I. The four of us had been boogie boarding all afternoon, and as the night sky started to move in, we all put our resources together and came up with a pretty fat eighth of green bud.

Kyle K was definitely a hottie. He was no taller than about 5 feet, and he might have weighed nighty five pounds. His shaggy blond hair always looked perfect, and his thick, red lips gave people the impression that he was pouting all of the time. The zoned out look in his eyes made people think he was either always concentrating on something remote or that his mind was drifting. He looked so innocent, though, that no one ever thought to consider the fact that he was most likely high.

Kyle Pelton was cute in so many ways that I could go on all day describing his features and never run out of words. He was a brunette, but his whole head was shaved, except for the long blonde wave that fell from the top of his head when he took his hat off. He spent hours in my bathroom coloring it with peroxide one night when he, Kyle K and Phillip stayed over. His beautiful green eyes were accented by his clear, caramel colored complection. He was taller than the rest of us, but he had such a baby face that everyone who didn't know him assumed he was about eleven years old. Just like Kyle K, he loved to smoke weed all day long.

Phillip was always ready with a pack of orange Zig Zag's and a lighter, so we were set. A lot of people we'd smoked out with in the past loved to roll blunts, but I for one can't stand them. They're harsh and they give me bad breath. To me, there's just something to love about a perfectly rolled green joint. It burns so evenly and it goes to the lungs so smoothly. No seeds, no stems, no problems.

When we had smoked all of the joints down to roaches, Phillip pulled out his pipe and we stuffed the roaches in the bowl and finished our eighth off.

The four of us walked back up to Atlantic Avenue, then we headed back toward our neighborhood. As we crossed the bridge over Rudee Inlet, I turned and looked one last time toward the Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel. It was such an awesome and majestic sight that I actually felt a pain in my heart as I turned back around and caught up with everyone.

When we made it back, Kyle K and Kyle Porter took the right turn to the street that led to the Porter residence while Phillip and I stayed straight until we reached his house. When we got there, it was about 10:45 and we still had an hour and fifteen minutes before either of us had to go in, so we walked around his house and to his back yard so he could drop his board off. We noticed that the patio light was left on as usual. His parent's left the light on for him to let him know that the back door was unlocked in case he had forgotten his house key.

We were both way too nervous to make out in his backyard, so we decided to make the trek back to my place, where we could sit on the swing in my backyard and kiss in peace. As soon as we made it home, the motion detector in the back yard set off the patio lights. I saw the light in my parents room come on suddenly, then the curtain flew back. It was my mom, and she looked guilty. I felt a little neurotic, though, when I noticed that she was holding a sheet up to her chest. I quickly turned my head at the same time she let the curtain fall and I felt scandalized.

"Well, it look's like we're not the only ones getting some," Phillip joked.

"Dude, that's nasty," I replied as I cringed. "I don't even want to think about my parents doing that."

"Come sit down," Phillip said as he rolled his eyes and patted the spot next to him on the swing. I closed my eyes and gave my head a few quick shakes back and forth to try to erase the image, then I took my spot next to my boyfriend. He quickly took my hand and leaned into me, resting his head on my shoulder.

I responded by rubbing my cheek up against the top of his head and bringing his hand to my mouth, where I smothered it with kisses. I felt his head turn, so I pulled his hand away from my mouth and turned to him, where he was waiting to kiss me. When our lips met, I heard him sigh quietly, then our tongues met. As we ran them back and forth over each other, my once flaccid penis was now a raging hard on. I felt him squeeze it through my shorts and I almost shot right there.

As our kiss intensified, we ended up laying down somehow across the length of the bench of the swing, my hands finding their way down the back of his shorts and traveling to his ass cheeks, where they kneaded his two luscious mounds as he gripped the back of my head with both of his palms. Our stiff tongues were dueling for an advantage, but I was clearly in control of the situation. I knew that Phillip was aware, and I also knew that it was what he wanted. Still, he pushed back in vain with his darting tongue until I finally moved in for the kill. I doubled up on the pressure of my kiss and at the same time, I slipped a finger into his hot love tunnel, causing him to surrender at once.

His back arched and he moaned softly as I continued my advance. I used my other hand to pull his shorts down, then I moved down on his body. The fact that we were in the backyard of my house and that my parents could pull back the curtain at any time was irrelevant to me at the moment. I felt like a lion in pursuit of a gazelle, and I was determined to conquer my prey.

When I had his shorts down to his ankles, I quickly and hungrily consumed the length of his hard on, greedily feasting on my reward. As quiet as Phillip was trying to be, it was almost impossible not to make noise. His moans were becoming more audible as my mouth serviced his cock and my finger serviced his ass. When he came, he did it silently, but his body thrashed like I hadn't seen it do in a long time. I sat up and swallowed, then I moved back down for another kiss.

As our tongues danced, he reached down and gave my hard on another squeeze. Breaking the kiss for a moment, he whispered in my ear, "I need it now."

I might have been able to resist, but he knew how to drive me over the edge. As soon as he had whispered his desires to me, he lightly blew in my ear and I could resist no longer.

I quickly yanked my shorts down, then I lined myself up with him and pushed in. When I was all the way inside of him, I bucked my hips back and forth, building up my speed and intensity with every thrust. As I moved back and forth, the swing swayed from end to end, making it a challenge to keep up the motion we had going, but not too much of a challenge. He was grinning up at me as I picked up the pace, and soon, he was shooting another load as his ass muscles gripped the head of my cock, quickly bringing me to my own explosion. When we finished, I collapsed on top of him and allowed him to suck on my neck. I knew this was going to be the second hickey I had received from him in less than a week, but I didn't mind. My parent's hadn't said anything about the first one, so I doubted they would mind this one.

At some point, we realized that we were lying on my parent's swing, naked, and in my backyard, out in the open, so we got up and got dressed. It was eleven forty five, and Phillip had to get home, so I gave him one last kiss before I walked him to his front door.

The walk back to Phillip's was so serene and peaceful that I almost forgot that we were out in public. The neighborhood was quiet, and the only sound I could hear was coming from cars traveling along General Booth Boulevard, which eventually turns into Atlantic Avenue. I could also smell a campfire, and I knew where it was coming from. There's a KOA campground not too far from our neighborhood. While it's quiet at night, sometimes, when the wind is blowing in just the right direction, the smell of burning wood drifts into our neighborhood

Holding hands with my boyfriend on a public street, especially in the neighborhood we lived in, was risky. The chance was always there for Mr. or Mrs. Cassiante to drive by and see us, even at this late hour. For some reason, though, neither one of us cared. I had played back the scenario over and over again. It always plays out the same way, too. Phillip is caught by his parent's, they throw him out, and he comes and lives with us. Then, we live happily ever after.

Somehow, I doubt very much that it would actually go down that way, but that's still how I had it worked out in my mind. When we turned the corner and ended up on Phillip's street, he made no move to let my hand go. We continued our stroll toward his house. Once we got there, he gave me a quick peck on the lips and dug out his house key.

"I love you, Jarred," he said with a smile as he started up the driveway to his porch, slowly walking backwards as he released my hand.

"I love you too, babe," I said, feeling a sense of relief for some reason. I don't think it was tied to the fact that we weren't caught, though. I think it came from the fact that Phillip was becoming much more secure in his own sexuality, secure enough to kiss me and hold my hand in his own driveway. When I saw him go in and close the door, I turned and headed back to my house.

That night when I got in, I went straight to the kitchen to see what I could find to munch on. My stomach was growling at me, telling me that I had smoked way too much weed, and that it had an urgent need to be filled. I opened the fridge and found some left over hamburgers on a tray from the night before, so I took two off and set them on a paper plate, then I put them in the microwave. I barely had time to take out the hamburger buns and get the ketchup out of the fridge when I heard the timer go off, telling me that my burgers were ready.

At the last minute, I felt a sudden craving for a side dish, so I opened the freezer to see what I could find. The bag of Ore Ida tater-tot's that caught my eye seemed to be calling my name, so I took the time to pre-heat the oven and find a glass baking pan, then I popped them in. While they were cooking, I found a stack of cheese slices in the fridge and meticulously built my two hamburgers.

There's something about eating a hamburger with tater-tot's that I find satisfying. Of course, the fact that I still had a really good buzz going might have been contributing to my munchies, but the fact remained that I was definitely ravenous, and waiting for the tater-tot's was only intensifying my urge to stuff my face.

I took everything out to the dining room and set it on the table, then I went back to the fridge to get a Coke. When I made it back to the table, I saw my dad sitting across from where I had set my food. The look on his face was hard to read, but if I had to place it, I would definitely say he looked upset. Not sad, just upset. When I took my seat at the table, he gave me a measured look, then he cleared his throat.

"Jarred, we need to talk," he said in the most serious tone I think I'd ever heard him use.

"Okay," I said, suddenly losing my appetite. There was something troubling about the way he was looking at me, almost as if he was looking for a way to give me some bad news.

"Do you have something you'd like to tell me?" he asked.

"Not really," I answered, feeling nervous that he was obviously expecting some sort of confession. Then I heard him sigh, and I knew I was in trouble.

"Son, I know what you were doing in the back yard tonight," he said with a hint of frustration in his voice.

Copyright © 2011 NickolasJames8; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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