A gay story: The Horny Club Ch. 04
“Meet me tonight–10 o’clock–by the big oak,” I managed to whisper before Jeb and Tom grabbed their clothes and tore out of the barn.
Steve went ballistic–cursing Juan out and ordering me to my room–then suddenly taking off in the pickup, leaving me wondering where he was and even if he’d ever come back.
At first, I did stay in my room–feeling relieved he’d gone–yet also apprehensive about what my ‘Poppa Steve’ would say when he came home. At the very same time, I felt strangely calm and glad of what we’d all discovered together with Juan in the barn. I mean, my sweaty-palmed nervousness had totally vanished the very second I felt my cock explode all over Juan’s hunky tits.
Something deep inside me felt way, way more peaceful, even as I grew more anxious about having been caught doing it.
That peacefulness didn’t last forever though, as I sat on my bed listening for the sound of the pickup. Having discovered the joys of ‘blowing a load’, I just got hornier by the minute. Yet, because I was now ‘in the doghouse’, awaiting a serious lecture, I didn’t dare try experimenting with my new, fleshy, big-headed toy.
Yet, the minutes became hours–and I got hungry, and ventured down to the empty, lonely kitchen–beginning to wish Steve would just return–wanting to get whatever punishment he had in mind over with.
I watched the sinking sun turn to dusk–then watched dusk become nightfall. I made some mac and cheese with hot dogs. I thought about Juan–whether he’d been fired, or where he was–thought about Jeb and Tom, suddenly remembering I’d told them to meet me at 10:00 by the oak tree near the tool shed.
Eight o’clock came and went. Nine o’clock came and went–me growing more jumpy by the minute, and also… more horny.
‘What if Steve pulls-in just as Jeb and Tom are walking down the drive?’ ‘What if he pulls-in and discovers I’m not in my room and finds me outside instead?’
It was a big, fucked-up mess–and being horny wasn’t helping things. All I wanted to do was rewind the tape and pretend my Poppa Steve hadn’t busted-up our naked fun!
Suddenly I heard Tom’s signal–his cool imitation of a night owl–our secret code whenever we three sneak out for a night dip in the swimming hole.
It was dark as pitch outside–fireflies everywhere–and still, and humid. The light from the kitchen helped guide my way until I couldn’t see a blasted thing.
“Hey! Over here!”
My eyes gradually adjusted to their T-shirt-and-gym-short-bodies leaning against the tree. We exchanged hand grips.
“You get away ok?”
“Yeah. No problem,” Tom said, his voice hushed. “We thought you wouldn’t show, man.”
“Did you get a whuppin’?” Jeb asked, all concerned.
“Naw. Fact is, he isn’t even here! He went off somewhere in the truck!”
“What?”
“Yeah! It’s weird….”
“Where’s Juan?” Jeb’s stage whisper was so loud, he may as well have just said it plain.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m supposed to be in my room, but….”
We suddenly heard the distant sounds of a vehicle, turning to see headlights cutting through the tall poplars ringing our property.
“Shit! Here he comes!”
I had enough time to make it back to the house, but was so panicked I ran behind the toolshed with Tom and Jeb. We watched the headlights turn onto our long drive–illuminating everything in their path–soon to include the toolshed.
“Fuck! He finds me out here and I’m toast!”
But the pickup wasn’t stopping in front of the barn as usual. It veered-off to the left of it, down the cow lane.
“He’s going to the bunkhouse!” A thrill went up my spine.
“The what???”
“Juan’s! He’s heading for Juan’s!!”
Theatrical visions of my Dad with a shotgun, coming to get Juan filled my over-active brain as we heard the truck stop and the engine turn off.
“You better go back to your room!” Jeb whispered loudly.
“Keep your voice down, Jenkins! You idiot!”
Being eighteen and reckless, I did no such thing. Why would I wait in my room when I saw myself dramatically stopping a confrontation?
We heard deep voices, then the screen door slam as we ran in a low crouch like G.I. Joes.
“What are they saying?”
“Shut the fuck UP, Jeb!” Tom smacked his big shoulder.
Thank God there were bushes to duck behind as we looked through the large, single-paned window. Like a movie–the sound perfectly clear through the screen door–we watched my Poppa Steve poke his finger into Juan’s pec-stretched wifebeater.
“I should fire your ass–you know that???”
“You’ve been drinking,” Juan flexed his chest against Steve’s finger.
“Yeah, man? So-fuckin-WHAT??” His unshaven jaw flexed menacingly. “You’re lucky I went n’ cooled off, you son-of-a-bitch!”
“Look, Steve….”
My ‘Poppa’ shoved him backwards, the two huge stud hunks nearly equal in height and size.
“What th’ FUCK were you DOIN’???! Huh??? I mean, FUCK, Juan!!!” His green eyes blazed emerald. “Foolin’ with Todd was bad enough–but the NEIGHBOR kids???” He blew out air in exasperation, two inches from Juan’s dark-brown, big-boned face.
“They won’t say a word. They ain’t crazy, Steve.” Juan refused to budge and stood staring right back.
Poppa glowered at him, then shook his head. “What…what th’ fuck were you THINKING??–I mean, Jesus Christopher, Juan!…..”
“I dunno,” Juan looked up at the ceiling, then back at him. “It just happened! They wanted to see me pose. Then they wanted to feel up….”
“…they’re just kids, Juan. CHILDREN, for Christ’s sake!”
“….th’ fuck they are!” Juan’s deep voice vibrated. “They’re eighteen, Steve–EIGHTEEN–an’ don’t even know what to do when they’re horny! Fuck! –didn’t know what horny IS, even!”
“They sure-as-shit do NOW, huh, Juan? Christ! Right there in the barn???”
“I couldn’t believe you never had a talk with your boy–him standing there sayin’ he didn’t know what t’do when he’s throwin’ a rod. All of ’em squeezin’ their legs together, worrying they’s gonna have heart attacks….”
“First off, he’s not my boy, but he may as well be, the way he calls me Poppa ‘n all…and second, it’s better that way.”
“What way??”
“Not knowin’.”
“Well they do now.”
“No shit.”
We were crouching and holding onto to each other’s arms–watching them standing there glaring–afraid even our breathing was too loud.
“Awwwh, Juan! Fuck!”
“They were gonna have to find out. One way or another, they were…”
“…they better not find out…” Poppa moved even closer to Juan.
“They won’t….”
I let out a gasp, seeing my big, built, masculine Poppa Steve put his large, work-rough hands on each side of Juan’s bullneck.
“You son-of-a-bitch, Juan…”
“H-Holy!” Tom breathed.
Their mouths crushed together, Juan’s hands suddenly reaching in to rip open my Dad’s shirt–snaps popping, his hairy pecs mountaining out–his nipples like rubber erasers.
I nearly laughed, then nearly burst into tears–my emotions in freefall–my body starting to tremble.
Their kiss was wet and hard–almost like they were fighting–Poppa taking hold of Juan’s wifebeater and tearing it clean down the center–his fingers squeezing Juan’s tits, making his thick nipples jut out. Still locked in a tongue-battling kiss, Juan pulled Steve’s shirt off, his rough hands sliding up to play with Poppa’s pecs –the very pecs I rarely got to see, much less play with!