Mark Wildyr's Blog

 Markwildyr.com,Post #266

 

Image Courtesyof Clkr:

 

BIG APOLOGY for missing mypost date on the twenty-third, but I had an excuse. I fell and hit my head, soI was confined to the hospital. Have recovered, but am reminded of mymortality. As a result, this will be my last post.

 

Let me say that again. THIS WILLBE MY LAST POST.

 

Last time, Rick Speare had shown upto ease Weldon’s estrangement from his BFF and secret crush, Jaime Jiron. Theywere quite different in appearance and nature, but Weldon was coping. Let’s seewhat happens.

* * * *

WELDON’S BIG MISTAKE

 

I didn’t exactly transfer myallegiance to Rick… that wasn’t what he was after. He just wanted what hewanted when he wanted where he wanted. And there was enough of that, at leastfor me. Even though my thoughts remained with Jaime, it was Rick who gave mewhat I finally realized I wanted. He wasn’t respectful about it, tended to dissme, but when he applied his sexual skills, I forgot all about the disdain. Onbalance, the rewards were worth the pettiness.

One Friday afternoon, he caughtme coming off the field and led me to what was becoming “our place,” deep inthe trees at the park. Of course, I knew what he intended, and privatelyadmitted I wanted it, as well.

As soon as we arrived, a kidnamed Marcus pushed off from a tree trunk he was resting against and flashed agrin. “Hi, guys. About gave you up.”

Immediately, I was caughtbetween two emotions. The fact Rick had invited him to participate was obvious,which alarmed me. But this kid was delicious, and that brought another kind offeeling. Marcus was dark, but Mediterranean dark, not Hispanic dark. Nonethelesshe instantly reminded me of Jaime. Black, curly hair spilled over his forehead,and his smile devastated anyone within twenty feet.

“What… what’s this, Rick?” Istuttered.

“Told Marcus how good youwere, and he wanted to see for himself.”

“Without asking me?”

“Why ask you?” The questioncame in all innocence. This guy wasn’t exactly Mr. Sensitive.

“Because it’s me you’revolunteering,” I snapped.

Marcus’ face fell. “You got aproblem with me being here?”

He looked good even whendisappointed.

“Not the point. He didn’t askme. Hell, he didn’t even tell me.”

“So I’m telling you,” Ricksaid, stepping up behind me and butting me with his groin.

Before I knew it, I was on allfours, my sweats down around my knees with Rick grunting at my back door.

“Go… on,” he mumbled. “Takecare of… uh, my friend.”

“That’s okay,” Marcus said,starting to back away.

Spurred by his threatenedretreat, I clasped his long, strong thighs and pulled him forward. “’S okay,” Imumbled his crotch in my face, “You’re here, might as well join in.”

I tugged down his trousers andalmost rued my words. This guy might be built thin, but he made up for lostweight by what he stored in his pants. And it was growing by the second. I evenheard a gasp from Rick who was busy at my backside. Marcus squatted on hisheels when Rick pushed me flat of my belly atop his jacket, and they both hadat me. Not unpleasantly, either. Rick made it first, which carried me alongwith him, while the hunky new kid threw himself at my mouth. Seemed he tookforever to start and then forgot to stop. This guy really came.

After that, we sort of fellinto a pattern. Marcus came back for more, which pleased me. Not only did heperform well, he was pleasant to look at and reminded me of Jaime. We seldomdid a threesome again, but I saw both of them often enough to keep me sated.

****

One day near the end ofschool, I came home to find Jaime sitting, arms folded across his chest, on theedge of the front porch. He was obviously waiting for me, which gave my heart awrench.

“Hi,” I said uncertainly.

“’Lo.”

An awkward silence for amoment.

“Surprised to see you,” Isaid, breaking it.

“Yeah. I know. Look, Weldon…I, uh, I dunno how to say this except straight out. You’re getting a rep aroundschool, and just thought you oughta know.”

“Rep?”

“Yeah. Rick Speare’s beentalking trash about you. D-dunno if it’s true or not, but he’s blabbing.” Heshrugged and said it again. “Just thought you oughta know.”

“What about Marcus?”

He glanced at me sharply. “Whatabout Marcus?”

My cheeks burned, and I couldn’tmeet his gaze. “Never mind.”

His mouth dropped open. “Marcustoo?”

I went scarlet then. “Rickstarted it. Right… right after I opened my big mouth to you. Matter of factthat’s how he came at me. Guessed Jaime wasn’t screwing me anymore, so thoughthe’d pick up the slack.”

It was his time to flush. “Iwasn’t….”

“Yeah. Told him that neverhappened.”

“But he didn’t believe you,”Jaime said.

I shook my head. “Nope.Anyway, that’s how he got to me.”

“And Marcus?”

I shrugged, ashamed to say he’dbeen invited along. “Just happened. It was….” I clamped my mouth shut.

“It was what?”

I studied his beautiful, browneyes and decided to answer honestly. “As close as I could get to the real thing…you.”

He dropped his eyes andstudied his hands clasped in front of him. Silence reigned for a full minutebefore he spoke.

“I considered coming back and…you know, offering to try it with you.”

I licked dry lips. “Still can.”

He met my gaze, and I almostwent giddy. Then he slowly shook his head.

“No. I really considered itseriously. Even tried… you know, doing it to myself thinking about you. Didn’twork. And I’d feel even worse if I tried with you and failed. The only thing Ican offer is an apology for treating you the way I did and try to get my friendback. But not if he expects… you know.”

“Jaime, I’ll take you as afriend any way I can get you. I’ve had a hole in my heart ever since that day.”

“Let’s fix that. How about wepitch the ball some?”

“Can make you drop it.”

“You haven’t so far.” The grinmelting my heart died. “I guess it’s okay to keep seeing Marcus. He seems likean okay guy. But Rick?”

“He’s history,” I said.

We burned gloves for an hour,and it seemed like we’d recaptured what we’d lost… almost. Something hadchanged, but we’d reestablished our friendship as best we could. There was justthe shadow of another slender, dark-headed Adonis in the background. Of course,there was the shade of a dark-haired Maria over his shoulder, as well. All apart of growing up, I finally decided.

 

*.*.*.*.

How appropriatethat my last post ends up with both disappointment and acceptance, becauseafter over ten years of faithfully posting to a blog, the decision to quit broughtboth a sense of emptiness and relief.

Farewell,readers, I will miss you. The site will be left up so that future readers canread any of the stories they wish. But nothing new is coming.

 

Again, thank youfor reading.

 

My new anthology,Huntinghawk, has now been released by JMS Books as a print version. Hopeyou’ll give it a read.

 

My contactinformation is provided below in case anyone wants to drop me a line:

Website and blog: markwildyr.com

Email:markwildyr@aol.com

Facebook:www.facebook.com/mark.wildyr

X: @markwildyr

 

Now mymantra: Keep on reading. Keep on writing.You have something to say, so say it!  

 

Mark

 

Alas… no more posts.

 Markwildyr.com,Post #265

 

Image Courtesyof Clkr:

 

Looks like Weldon came out to Jaimelast time… and paid the penalty. Big mistake. Let’s see what happens next.

* * * *

WELDON’S BIG MISTAKE

 

The world wasn’t the sameafter that. Jaime didn’t exactly ditch me, but it wasn’t Jaime and Wellanymore… others got included. His move, not mine. The special feeling wasn’tthere. Not even for me. Oh, the want was there, but let’s be clear, I’d lost   my best bud by the confession.

I still had friends,especially on the baseball field, but Jaime and I no longer walked hometogether. He always found something to hold him up until I left. Other guysdrifted in to fill the void, but it wasn’t the same. Something precious wasgone.

Rather than mope around, Igrabbed myself by the ears—figuratively speaking—and kept my head high. I hitit off with another guy I’d known forever, a fellow Anglo by the name of RickSpeare. Nobody, not even Rick, could explain where the extra e came fromin his last name. He was third baseman on the team and totally different fromJaime. Honey blond hair, blue eyes, and a mouth that turned up at the cornersas if he had a perpetual grin. His build was blockier than Jaime’s, but haddefinition.

One day, he surprised me byasking about Jaime.

“Man, you used to be joined atthe hip. What happened?”

I shrugged. “Just one of thosethings. Interests change, you know.”

Rick gave me a meaningfulglance. “Yeah. Like Maria Saiz.”

Meeting his gaze, I noticedhow deep a blue his eyes were. “What’s she got to do with it?”

He smiled. “Yeah, what? Shegot between you, dude. Anybody can see that.”

I didn’t know what to say, soI said nothing.

“He found a better piece ofass.”

My eyes bugged. “What?”

“Come on, you gonna deny it?You’ve trailed around like his bitch for the last year. Anybody can see it.”

“He’s my friend. That’s all.”I felt my cheeks sting. “My best friend, but that’s all.”

“Yeah, sure. You telling me ifI walk up and push my cock against your butt you won’t get a hard-on?”

I glanced around. We werebehind the bleachers at the field, and there was no one else in sight. “Justtry it, buster.”

He grinned and spun me around.“Okay. I recognize an invitation when I hear it.”

The next thing I knew, hisarms were around my chest, and his groin warmed my buns. I should have whirledand busted him in the chops… but I didn’t. “Why’d you do that?” I gasped.

“’Cause you wanted me to.” Hepulled me tighter.

“N… no.”

“That was a mighty weakdenial,” he whispered in my ear. Then his hand moved to cover my crotch.

That was more than I couldtake. I ballooned like a dirigible fed hydrogen.

His hand moved, massaging me. Hethrust against me. “See. I was right.”

I tried to push his arms away.“Somebody’ll see us, Rick.”

“Then let’s go where nobodywill.”

I heard my own voice ask, “Where?”

H husky with want, heanswered, “To the park. In the trees. I wanna show you what a man can do foryou. Make you forget all about Jaime Jiron.”

So help me, I followed him.Noticing new things about him. How broad his back was. Sturdy hips. Trim waist.The macho way he moved.

I almost ran into him when hestopped. I glanced around. We were deep in the trees of the town park. Nobodyaround. Nothing but the chirping of crickets and birdsong, and the occasionalchirp of a squirrel.

“H-here?” I gasped.

He turned and pulled me tohim. “Here.”

Before I knew what washappening, he had me on my knees before his magically exposed genitals. He wasshort and thick. I struggled for a moment before giving in to him.

After a few minutes, hegrabbed me by the hair and forced me to look up at him. “You’re not very good.Jaime didn’t teach you much.”

“I didn’t—”

The rest got lost because he fedhimself to me again, this time telling me what to do and when to do it. I musthave learned something because pretty soon he started moaning and jerkedhimself free of me.

“Oh, man, I’m gonna lose it.”

“Isn’t that the point?” Iasked.

“Not this way.”

I had no inkling of what hemeant until he spread our jackets on the ground and pushed me onto my stomach. Ididn’t even understand when he yanked down my sweat. But I sure got it when he enteredme. Big time. I let out a holler than sent the birds flying.

He put his hand over my mouth.“Shhh,” he grunted. “Man… oh, man!” He thrust and bucked wildly. “You are onefine piece.”

That offended me, but I was inno condition to respond. Something strange was happening. The intense pain wasreceding to be replaced by… by something amounting to pleasure. Yes, definitelypleasure. He was inside me, caressing places that had never been excitedbefore. Without intending it, I moved to meet his downward strokes.

“Yeah!” he gasped. “You digit, don’t you? Thought so. Man…oh, man.”

He built to his climax andexploded. To my surprise, so did I. As he ejaculated, I reached orgasm… andwhat an orgasm.

“Oh… Rick!” I’d almost saidJaime.

“Gave you quite a ride, huh,”he asked, languidly thrusting against me again. After a minute or so of that,he jumped up and pulled his clothing into place.

I crawled up to my all foursand managed to get to my feet. “Yeah. Guess you did.”

My next through was… whatwould Jaime think about this?

*.*.*.*.

Looks likesomeone’s been observing Weldon and perceived his friendship with Jaimecontained an element of desire. Then Rick used it to his advantage. Wonder whathappens next.

 

My new anthology,Huntinghawk, was released in February as an Ebook by JMS Books with theprint version to follow soon. Hope you’ll give it a read.

 

My contactinformation is provided below in case anyone wants to drop me a line:

Website and blog: markwildyr.com

Email:markwildyr@aol.com

Facebook:www.facebook.com/mark.wildyr

X: @markwildyr

 

Now mymantra: Keep on reading. Keep on writing.You have something to say, so say it!

 

See you later.

 

 

Mark

New posts first and third Thursday of the month at 6:00a.m., US Mountain time.

 Markwildyr.com,Post #264

 

Weldon’s Big Mistake(Part 1 of 2 Parts)

 

Image Courtesyof Clkr:

 

Hope you liked the little ditty aboutour own Cap’n Ahab. Flights of fancy take us in all directions, don’t they?

 

This week, we’ll start another. Hopeyou enjoy it.

* * * *

WELDON’S BIG MISTAKE

 

I’ve known my best bud in allthe world ever since I can remember because we grew up together in this NorthernNew Mexico town with the unlikely name of Blinkton. All its inhabitants areknown far and wide as Blinkies. But Jaime Jiron and I didn’t really bond asfriends until sixth grade when I baked him up when two of the school’s biggestbullies ganged up on him on the schoolyard.

That takes some explainingtoo. Best I can figure, Northern New Mexico is different from the rest of thestate. The Hispanic families that settled here are closer to their Spanishroots than most of the rest of the Latin families. Doesn’t make any sensebecause they’re farther removed than everyone south of us. But, of course,people south of there are Mexicans, not Spaniards. The distinction was meaninglessto me, but apparently carried weight with them.

That’s one side of the coin.The other is that some of the Anglos in the area seemed to be bigger bigotsthan usual. Anglos… that’s how we describe families descended from Europeannations other than Spain. From what I hear, the two populations pretty wellkept apart from one another socially until sometime in the twentieth century. Iwasn’t around then, so I can’t vouch for it, but that’s my understanding.

I’d seen Jaimie around all thetime before that fateful day, but we hadn’t exchanged anything other than howdysand holas. Even so, I’d admired him for as long as I could remember. Admiredhis shiny, black hair, flamenco-dancer physique, flawless bronze skin, and oh,so many other things I could list. But for some reason, I’d honored thatcultural divide—or whatever it was—even though we went to the same school,often sitting in the same class. Didn’t have anything against him, we justlived in two different worlds.

But after I took his side thatday—and a whopping, I might add—we’ve been as close as brothers. And that’s theway I thought of us… brothers. Until last week when I hit eighteen. I hiteighteen and eighteen hit me back… hard.

My world turned upside downwhen Jaime started dating Maria Saiz. We’d double-dated lots of times, but thiswas different. He wanted to be alone with her. Alone with her meant there wasno room for Weldon Brown… that’s me, by the way. And something whopped me sohard right between the eyes I had to sit down for some introspection. Because thatsure as shooting felt like jealousy. And after I cogitated on it, that’sexactly what it was. I was jealous of Maria. How can that be?

That led to a lot morethinking, and the answer I came up with didn’t do anything to make me feel any better.I wanted Jaime all to myself. Why? We were friends, buds, pals… but that wasn’tthe answer. I wanted him. For myself. Alone.

That brought me face to face withthe yearning deep down inside me I’d been ignoring. When I said I wanted him, that’sexactly what I meant. I wanted his mind, his body, his… love. Adifferent kind of love than the deep bond we already shared.

When the truth struck, Imuttered aloud. “My God, I’m queer for him!”

I glanced around to see ifanyone had heard, but I was alone in my own bedroom. Thank goodness, because I’dsprouted the biggest erection I’d ever had in my life. So I took care of it,and sure enough, the image of Jaime Jiron never left my head all the waythrough. As I was spouting my seed, my left hand was making a motion like I hadhim in hand trying to bring him to the beautiful place I was.

But after the last throes ofejaculation faded, I went blue. Jaime wasn’t here with me. I hadn’t touched hisfascinating flesh. We hadn’t shared a delicious orgasm. He was off somewherewith Maria, and I was here alone. Had they gone all the way? Had he shot hisseed into her?

My world turned sideways.

****

I must not have been myselfthe next day, because Jaime kept shooting me sideways looks, and once evenasked what was wrong.

“Nothing,” I answered.

We finished baseball practice,and tarried in the town’s little park on the way home. He dropped onto a benchwhile I settled across from him. God, he was handsome! My glance took in hisrangy form, and I imagined the fullness of his groin hidden from my sight bythe concrete table.  I suddenly wanted—needed—tosee it, so I dropped my glove on the ground and bent to retrieve it. Yep, fulland inviting.

I came up and flopped my gloveon the picnic table a little harder than intended. His chocolate mousse eyes searchedmy face. “What’s up, bro?”

“Nothing.” Did I sound short?

“Don’t try to snow me, man.Something’s bothering you. It’s been hanging all over your face all day.”

“Don’t wanna talk about it. Tellme, how was your date with Maria last night?”

He grinned, almost stopping myheart. “Great. Went to the lake after the movie.”

“What for?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Why doyou think?”

“You make a home run?”

His grin died… then returned. “Morelike third base.”

My heart soared and then droppedto the ground. Did third base mean she made him come? How? Every way but theway it counted, probably.

“See! There it is again. What youwant’s hanging all over your face. Spit it out, man.”

Did I dare? I looked at thathandsome, sexy face and was tempted.

“Weldon, when were we not ableto talk to one another?”

Weldon. He always called meWell… unless it was something serious.

“Come on, bro, this is me. Youcan tell me anything you like.”

I swallowed hard and wentlight-headed. “I… I want you, Jaime. Want you like you want Maria. I want youto want me instead of her.”

His mouth dropped and thensnapped shut. “Crap, man, I thought you were gonna tell me you wanted to go toAlbuquerque for a Isotopes game or something. Not something like that.”

“I-I’m sorry. Shoulda—”

“I pushed you into it. Butthat’s not gonna fly, man. Sorry.”

He got up and walked away. Isat as I was and despite my misery, couldn’t help but notice his manly stride.His grace. His….

Shit, Weldon, you fucked up.

*.*.*.*.

As we all knowfrom experience, that’s a good way to lose a friend. I wonder if Weldon will beable to repair his relationship with Jaime? Hope so. We’ll see next week.

 

My new anthology,Huntinghawk, was released in February as an Ebook by JMS Books with theprint version to follow soon. Hope you’ll give it a read.

 

My contactinformation is provided below in case anyone wants to drop me a line:

Website and blog: markwildyr.com

Email:markwildyr@aol.com

Facebook:www.facebook.com/mark.wildyr

X: @markwildyr

 

Now mymantra: Keep on reading. Keep on writing.You have something to say, so say it! 

 

See you later.

 

 

Mark

 

New posts first and third Thursday of the month at 6:00a.m., US Mountain time.

 Markwildyr.com,Post #263

 

Image Courtesyof Shopify:

 

Today, we conclude the story of AhabJames Chaplain… or Captain, or more commonly Cap’n to his peers.

 

He doesn’t like his name, but fromthe first installment we know that’s not the worst of his problems. He likeshis neighbor but succumbs to another former schoolmate. He enjoyed theencounter but wonders why he’s so blue.

* * * *

CAP’N,CAP’N

The next week, our own schoolbreak began, and Josh took me by surprise by inviting me to go to the lake withhim. Of course, going to the lake had only one connotation to me. The oneassociated with Hal. That forced me to admit what I’d been denying for a longtime. Man, would I like to get together with him. I mean, really gettogether. He was the sexiest person I’d ever known, but I’d considered himunapproachable. What does the team quarterback need with a dweeb. Well, maybenot a dweeb. I do play soccer and tennis and a little golf. But you know what Imean. He goes out with babes… and from talk around school, he got a few of themtoo.

“Too late for ice fishing andtoo early for reel fishing,” I said, having no idea if that was correct or not.”

“Don’t much care if I catchany or not. Just want to get away from everything and everyone for a while. Thoughtyou might like to tag along. I’m gonna pitch a tent and stay for a couple ofnights.”

My insides did-flip-flops.Anticipation or dread? I didn’t know. Nonetheless, I said the words. “Sure, whynot.”

Monday morning, I tossed my backpackin the trunk of Josh’s Duster, and we headed for the lake twenty-five miles upin the hills. Wasn’t like with Hal, Josh didn’t say much of anything, but itwas easy to see he was already enjoying getting out of town. That prompted meto relax a little—lay aside the anxiety over what might or might not happen. Iknew one thing for sure. The whole school knew we were going camping for acouple of days. And I wasn’t exactly the natural camping companion for apopular guy like Josh. That would prompt a few questions when we got back. Tohell with it. Relax and enjoy the lake. Deal with the other later.

Like Hal, he wanted a secludedplace for our campsite, but we worked well together. I’d pitched a few tents ontrips with my father and older brother, so I carried my weight. When camp wasready, we strolled down to the lake with old-fashioned fishing poles, and to mysurprise, caught enough for our dinner. Josh gutted and cleaned, I cooked.

After a surprisingly tastydinner of fried fish, biscuits, and beans, we sat around the campfire in thegathering gloom, still not talking much but amazingly comfortable. As the nightprogressed, he did start to unwind and talk a little about school and comingcollege and what life might hold in the future. He wanted to be an Air Forcefighter pilot. I was still bouncing around between archaeologist and lawyer.The lawyer thing was probably hanging in there because that’s what my dad was.

Sometime late that night, we dousedthe fire, stripped to our underwear, and got into our sleeping bags. Then everythingwas quiet and peaceful—well, not completely. Don’t know if you’ve noticed, butthe forest has a sound all it’s own at night. The lake wasn’t big, but sizeableenough so that the water lapped at the shore. A noisy loon to the west keptcalling to another to the north. Peaceful.

Except my insides were raging.Here I was lying half-naked beside the hunkiest guy in town, and my roilingstomach wouldn’t let me forget it. I knew he wasn’t asleep. He moved around inhis sack a little too much. That brought on another rush of adrenaline. Was he…?Naw, wasn’t that kind of moving around.

I must have lain there for aquarter of an hour before he spoke.

“You asleep?”

“Uh-uh, enjoying the silencetoo much.”

He gave a nervous laugh. “Yeah,makes you miss all the noise in town.”

“Not much.”

Cap’n… uh, Jimbo. I beenwanting to talk to you.”

“I live right next door.Available anytime.”

“Yeah, but the time neverseemed right.”

“Now it does?” I asked.

“Yeah, sorta. But I’m havingtrouble getting started.”

“Spit it out.”

So he did. “You ever thinkabout sex?”

“Only about seventy-fivepercent of the time”

“Not asking you to tell talesout of school, but do you score?”

I thought of Hal. “Not veryoften. You?”

Silence… then, “Not as much asI should.”

That caught my interest. “Whatdo you mean?”

Silence again. Longer thistime. “Can you keep a secret?”

“Sure. Better’n most I know.”

“I… I…. Oh, crap, I havetrouble getting interested with somebody I know.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, God, I hope you mean itwhen you say you don’t rat. Truth is, I’ve only got one girl… here at home thatis. But when I go on football trips, I get more’n I can handle.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I dunno. Thought maybe you’dknow.”

“Me? Why me?”

“Of everyone in town, you keepthe kids guessing about your sex life.”

“What you’re saying is youwant to know if I’m gay.”

“No, that’s not what I’masking.” Silence. “Well, maybe.”

“Okay, then I’m not. Well,maybe I am.”

“Which is it?”

“I don’t really know. I… well,I got it on with someone last year. A guy.”

“Yeah, Hal Barton.”

That gave me a start. “He toldeverybody?”

“Just about.”

“Aw, crap!” I dry-washed myface. “He’s the one who started it.”

“Yeah, he would be. When itcomes to sex, he’s a sleazebag. Otherwise, he’s a decent guy.”

As I lay in humiliation, anothersilence grew. Finally.

“But that’s why I thought youmight explain my problem.”

“You hankering for a guy?” Iblurted, halfway hopeful, halfway dreadful.

“No. Well… maybe. You see, Idon’t seem to have any parameters. If I see a person and find them attractive,doesn’t seem to matter whether they’re a guy or a gal.”

“You saying you’re bi-sexual?”

“Maybe. But it seems differentto me. I dunno how to say it, except I don’t have a type. It might be a sexygirl, a he-man guy, a fem guy, a butch girl. It’s just something that clicks inmy brain—” He gave an embarrassed laugh. “—or more to the point in my gonads.”

“Have you ever heard ofpolysexual?”

“Yeah, and omni and poly andall the rest. But I don’t understand them.”

I snickered. “I don’t either. Ijust know I like Betsy and would like to get into her pants. And,” I addedhesitantly, “I really dug what Hal and I did.”

“What did you do?”

“I did him, he did me,” Isaid, hoping that would be enough.

“Uh….”

Okay, I blew him and he blewme.”

“Did you ever do the other?”

“Uh-uh. Why, you interested?”

He gave a sigh that kinda got medown in the guts. “Maybe, but that’s the rest of my problem.”

“Which is?”

“I might be interested insomebody, but if I know them, then the will isn’t there. With a stranger, it’sokay. Guy or gal, it’s okay. I’m one sick dude.”

“Naw. You’re you with your ownwants and don’ts.”

“Does my confession make you lookat me differently,” he asked.

“Differently… yeah. Down onyou… nah. But you know, somehow I think your problem might be better than mine.I’ve been wanting to get with you for years, but didn’t know how. You know,afraid of losing a friend. You don’t have to worry about that because you onlygo after strangers. If they’re not interested, no big deal.”

“Doesn’t seem that simple tome.”

I thought for a minute. “You…you wanna try it? No matter how it comes out, nobody has to know.”

“You’d know.” A long, longsilence grew, and then, “Okay, I’ll try. No promises, but I’ll try.”

And try he did. He’d get abouthalfway erect, and then he’d deflate. Me, I about ripped my shorts with the monsterI sported.

“You really dig it,” he said,acknowledging that fact.

“With you, I do,” I panted.

At long last, he flopped onhis back. “Sorry, just can’t do it.”

“Hell, you can’t” I mutteredand came up on him. “Just think of me as a stranger you came up on at the lakeand seduced into your tent.”

With that, I went to work. Onehand worked at his sac and his butt, the other wandered his really fine chest,while my mouth went to work.

And that did the job. Boy, didthat do the job. I’m not sure we got more than an hour’s sleep that night.Every time one of us got it off, the other was ready again. Talk abouteighteen-year-old stamina!

Magnificent.

*.*.*.*.

Apparentlyscience is coming around to the view many Native American tribes have held foryears. There are many genders out there. Cap’n and Josh are working hard toidentify theirs.

 

My new anthology,Huntinghawk,was released in February as an Ebook by JMS Books with theprint version to follow soon. Hope you’ll give it a read.

 

My contactinformation is provided below in case anyone wants to drop me a line:

Website and blog: markwildyr.com

Email:markwildyr@aol.com

Facebook:www.facebook.com/mark.wildyr

X: @markwildyr

 

Now mymantra: Keep on reading. Keep on writing.You have something to say, so say it! (Don Travis keeps reminding me I stole it from him, but he didn’tcopyright it. His bad.)

 

See you later.

 

 

Mark

 

New posts first and third Thursday of the month at 6:00a.m., US Mountain time.

 Markwildyr.com,Post #262

 

Image Courtesy of Shopify:

 

Easter is behind us, spring is uponus, and as I write this, it’s overcast and chilly here in Albuquerque. Yesterday,we were blessed with a little snow, a bit of rain, and a tad of sunshine. Whatelse could you ask?

 

Today, we have the first installment ofa new story where our protagonist believes he’s figured out who he is but findsthings to challenge that conviction. This first installment gives us a peekinto our protagonist’s life.

 

* * * *

CAP’N,CAP’N

 

Josh Bingley called fromacross the soccer field. “Cap’n, Cap’n! Wait up.”

I hated the name my folks gaveme. Family lore said they’d both just finished reading Herman Melville’s MobyDick when I arrived upon the scene, and so they pronounced me Ahab James Chaplain.For the life of me, I don’t know why. That crusty sea captain was certainly nohero, at least not to my mind. For years, I tried to get people to call meJames or Jim, but the community unanimously settled on Ahab. My peers didn’teven bother with the name, they just called me Captain… or more commonly“Cap’n.”

Of course, that wasn’t allthat was going south in my life. I’d noticed something lately. Something that convincedme I was more screwed up in the head than I’d originally thought. And that wasbad enough before the revelation.

My schoolmate dashed acrossthe street and joined me on the sidewalk.

“Yeah, Josh, wha’cha want?”

What he wanted was to walkhome with me. We were next-door neighbors, and had been since grade school. Iliked Josh but wished he’d cooperate and call me by my middle name.

As to Josh, himself, what notto like? Tall—couple of inches more than my five-nine—carried about the same asmy one-seventy, and was shaped like an athlete.

Weird how someeighteen-year-olds looked like men, and others were still boys. Josh’sshoulders had already spread about as much as they ever would, leaving his backa Vee down to his waist. I was shaped okay, but I’d never match those shouldersand trim hips. Probably a little jealousy there.

He was bright, friendly, agood athlete—football, soccer, basketball, it didn’t matter—and had a greatsmile with a personality to match. So why did I get short with him sometimes.That jealousy thing, probably.

He shortened his stride tomatch mine. “Good play this afternoon.”

He referenced a steal I’d madejust before one of the opposing soccer players was about to score.

“Thanks.”

“You’re a good player.”

“Thanks.”

He glanced sideways at me. “Butnot a very good communicator. What’s the matter?”

I frowned. “In a mood.”

“You’re in them more often thannot lately.

“Am I?”

“Getting to be a regular grouch.”

“Hump,” I said, reverting to type.

“So what’s up?”

I stopped dead in my tracks,forcing him to retrace his steps.

“Me,” I said, “except I’m notup, I’m down.”

A frown distorted hisfeatures. “Why? What happened?”

I glanced at him, tempted toshare my problem. Uh-uh. Way too personal. I’d hid my real self all myadolescent life. Tell him, and he’d blab to everyone. Well, maybe not. He waspretty circumspect, but he sure wouldn’t look at me the same way anymore… if helooked at me at all. Naw.  I resumedwalking; he tagged along.

“Life happened,” I snappedbefore reverting to my old beef. “Except nobody’ll call me Jim or James oranything except Ahab or Cap’n.”

“That’s what’s got you down?Okay, Jimbo, I’ll call you that now. Better?”

“Guess. Jim might be better.”

“How about Jimmy?”

“Makes me sound like aten-year-old.”

“A ten-year-old or a mad seacaptain, which will it be?”

“Jimbo’s fine, I guess.”

“Jimbo it is,” he said, andthen gave me a smile. “Unless I forget. Which I will sometimes. But even if Isay Ahab, I’m thinking Jimbo.”

The likeable schmuck knew howto get me out of a mood. I arrived home feeling better than when I’d leftschool.

****

The next morning, I ran smackdab into my problem when I saw Hal Barton in the hallway. He shouldn’t haveeven been at the school. He’d graduated last year and disappeared from my lifewhen he went to college.

“What’re you doing here?” Iblurted.

“Home for spring break anddecided to check out the old digs. Good to see you, Cap’n. Look, why don’t Iswing by after school. I’m going to the lake and thought you might wanna ridealong.”

“I-I dunno.”

He beamed. Damn, he had a goodface. Good smile. Good everything. “Sure you do. I’ll be waiting. You have soccerpractice?”

I shook my head. “But I dunnoIf I’m free or not.”

He really turned loose asmile. “I’ll be in the parking lot just in case.”

My reaction to Hal put me in amood again, and I managed to ruin the day for a lot of people. All too soon thelast bell rang, and although I told myself I wasn’t going to do it, I wandered outto the parking lot with my heart in my throat. Then I got into Hal’s car—somethingelse I swore I wasn’t gonna do—with blood pounding in my ears.

I dunno if he could see mynervousness or not, but he talked a blue streak all the way to the lake,telling me about college and how different it was with a guy living on his own,smothering me in the easy charm that got me out here at the lake the first timea year ago.

And when we arrived, as he’ddone dozens of other times, he found a secluded area, parked, and turned to mewith hunger in his eyes. As I’d done twenty times before, I found my trousersdown around my feet with Hal’s warm hands exploring parts of me not very manypeople were familiar with.

When he had what he wanted fromme, he pulled me to him to reciprocate. And although I swore to myself I wouldn’t…I did.

He drove home happy, andchattering up a storm, while I sat morose and wondering what the hell I was.Frankly, I was lower than I’d been earlier. Especially when I realized I’d reallyenjoyed the last half hour.

So why was I so blue?

*.*.*.*.

What’s eating atthe kid? It seems he had accepted who he was, so why is he so agitated about itnow? We’ll find out next week.

 

My new anthology,Huntinghawk,was released in February as an Ebook by JMS Books with theprint version to follow soon. Hope you’ll give it a read.

 

My contactinformation is provided below in case anyone wants to drop me a line:

Website and blog: markwildyr.com

Email:markwildyr@aol.com

Facebook:www.facebook.com/mark.wildyr

X: @markwildyr

 

Now mymantra: Keep on reading. Keep on writing.You have something to say, so say it! 

 

See you later.

 

Mark

New posts first and third Thursday of the month at 6:00a.m., US Mountain time.

 Markwildyr.com,Post #261

Image courtesy of Freepik:

 Hope you had a great St. Patrick’sDay and didn’t get pinched too often for failing to wear green.

 

This week we have an original storynot a rerun or a guest post. I hope you enjoy the story of a youth strugglingto make the conversion from Tommy to Tom.

 

* * * *

TOMMY

ByMark Wildyr

 

“Tommy?”

I bristled at the name, butthat was just my mother’s way. I was Tommy here at home but Tom at school.Except for Marge Whitsock—and I didn’t mind the familiar from her, just like shedidn’t object to being Margie to me.

“Yes, Mom.”

“Will you run to the store.I’ve got so much to do today, it would be a big help.”

“Sure.” Any excuse to drive my’85 Mustang. I’ve had it for a whole semester now, but still got a kick out ofbuckling into the seat and feeling the power of the beast. “What’cha need?”

It turned out to be quite alist, but what the heck. The only thing was, I was a little ambivalent aboutentering Hawthorne’s Grocery. Mr. Hawthorne was okay, but his son was somethingelse. Neil was in my senior class at Putnam High, and I had a funnyrelationship with him. Relationship? That was a stretch. I wasn’t even a blipon Neil’s radar. He was the only other kid who still called me Tommy, and thatwas because it kept me an inferior to our town’ football running back hero.

At first, I thought I’d luckedout, and he wasn’t working this Saturday. But as I left the store, Neil pulledup in his Camaro and walked over to where I was loading groceries into mytrunk.

“Take the cart back in foryou, Tommy,” he offered.

“Thanks.”

“How you doing? Ready forgraduation?”

Wow. He was staying forconversation. “As much as I can be.”

He grinned, going from justgood looking to downright handsome. “Yeah, I get you. Be great getting out ofhigh school, but that means ripping the old gang to shreds. I hear you’re goingto State too. See you there, I guess”

I hesitated. Might as well getthis over and done with. “Uh… you think you could call me Tom when we getthere?”

The grin died. “You don’t getit, do you?”

“Get what?”

“That’s a term of affection.”

He grabbed my now-empty cartand headed for the store. I watched him until he disappeared through theautomatic double doors… with my mouth hanging open, I’m sure.

****

Football season ended, springarrived, and everyone concentrated on proms and getting ready for tests andgraduation. Finals were a busy time for me, not just preparing for the examsbut also doing some tutoring. I often wondered if I shouldn’t become a teacherbecause I liked helping other students prepare for the biggest academic eventof their year.

This semester, I got asurprise when our science teacher Mrs. Levy asked me to give Neil Hawthorne ahand. Neil had never needed help before. I’d had a couple of classes with himthis semester and knew him to be a bright guy. Yeah, he had it all. Looks, athleticprowess, and brains.

Nonetheless, I swallowed mysurprise and agreed to give him a hand. That very afternoon, he approached meas I left the school building and headed for my Mustang.

“Hey, Tommy, wait up!”

I obediently halted until hereached my side, and then we walked to the parking lot.

“Mrs. Levy told me you’dagreed to help. Appreciate it. When can we get together?"

“On one condition,” I said asa brainstorm struck. “You call me Tom from now on.”

He gave me a look. “Yeah,sure. Agreed. Okay?”

“Okay. When do you want tostart.”

“My folks are going to my auntand uncle’s house for dinner this evening. How about we grab burgers and meetfor a session.”

“Sure.” My turn to flash him alook. “Didn’t know you had trouble in science. In any class, as a matter offact.”

“Not exactly trouble. Justlike to have a firmer footing, I guess you could say.”

We settled on a time, got intoour respective vehicles, and went our separate ways.

****

I showed up at his house righton the dot. Per agreement, he’d stopped on the way home from work and got ourburgers and fries. As we sat down and popped lids on our drinks—he was diet Coke;I was regular Dr. Pepper—he leaned back and spread his legs comfortably. We atein silence for a minute or two before he hit me with a question.

“How come you don’t like to becalled Tommy?”

“It’s a little boy’s name,” Icame back at him.

“Or a term of… familiarity, Iguess you could say.”

“Maybe. But it seems to melike it’s saying you’re the grown-up and I’m the little kid.”

He took another bite andmunched with a thoughtful look on his face before taking it a step further.

“It’s kinda like Pepe beingPepito.”

“Yeah. Like Pepe being littlePepe,” I countered.

He got that cogitating lookagain. “Familiarity.”

I shook my head. “Dissing.”

“So I’m calling you ‘LittleTom,’ huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you?” he asked, puttinghis greasy napkin on the plate and downing the last of his fries.

“Am I what?”

“Little Tom?”

“Hell, Neil, you got eyes. I’mabout as tall as you are.”

“Not talking about how tallyou are.”

“Then what—” I interruptedmyself with a choking sound. “You mean….”

“Exactly.”

My face heated up, and mycheeks stung. “You suggesting we measure?”

“Why not, Tom. Or maybe Tommy’smore appropriate.”

I didn’t know what to say,much less what to do. I wasn’t into sports, so I didn’t spend time in thelocker room like lots of jocks, but word around school was Neil had about thebiggest one on campus. I couldn’t help it; my eyes went south.

Neil was sprawled in his seat,one foot beneath the chair, the other stretched out in front of him. Anoticeable lump emphasized the fullness of his groin. I’m sure my face gotredder as I realized I was curious about… it.

He moved, taking me bysurprise. His hands dealt with his belt buckle in one second flat. Then he hesitatedwith his fingers on the top button of his fly. “Well? You chicken?”

“I… I….”

He redid his belt. “Figured. SoI guess you’ll stay Tommy.”

“Wait!” I cried. Thedesperation in my voice surprised me. “Hell, if it’ll put that crap to rest,why not.” I tackled my own belt.”

“Let’s go to my room, youknow, in case my folks come home unexpectedly.”

“What?” Now there was panic inmy tone. I hadn’t realized my voice was so expressive.

“Just a precaution. They nevercome back before nine or ten. They play bridge with my aunt and uncle.”

He rose and strode to hisroom, me following like a puppy dog. As soon as the door closed behind us, hisbelt was undone and his fly popped. Then he hesitated, waiting for me, I guess.

So I tackled my trousers,feeling foolish when they fell around my ankles. His did too.

“Now the underwear,” he said,rolling down his jockeys.

I flid down my boxers, andthey joined my trousers on the floor. I stood with my mouth open as he steppedout of his clothes. Gossip was accurate. Neil was well-endowed.

“Tom,” he said, “Congratulations.You’re carrying more’n I thought.”

“Uh… thanks.” Not knowing whatelse to do, I grabbed for my britches.

“Wait. I want a better look.It seems to be growing.”

If possible, my cheeks turnedrosier… all four of them. It was true, my thing started rising like it was huntingfor something. I got even more flustered when his did too. And it was swellingup a whole lot faster than mine. It finally dawned on me we were standingbare-assed staring at one another’s bone.

“Impressive,” he noted. “Wannatouch.”

“I-I guess.” Had my gulp beenas loud to him as it sounded to me?

My knees almost gave way whenhis fist closed around me. He twisted sideways, presenting himself, and Igrabbed on like clutching for a lifeline. Wow! Hard and warm and throbbing.

He turned me loose to shrugout of his tank top before pulling me down on the bed with him. Wow! What abuild. Wow? Was I reduced to a blubbering idiot only capable of wows? No. Hewas magnificent. Didn’t know they made chests for eighteen-year-old boys thatrippled like that. The pecs were hard slabs; aureoles big and brown and…strangely unsettling. Made me want to touch one. So I did.

“Ahhh,” he purred, putting ahand behind my head and pulling me to him. My lips sorta fastened on like I wasthree months old and started sucking.

“Ahhh,” he said again, adding,“Tom.”

I switched to the other onewithout being asked.

“Ohhh, that gets to me,” hemumbled. He sounded discombobulated, as well, and that gave me some confidence.I put a hand to his abs and had the thought everything this guy possessed washard as a rock.

Neil lay back on his pillows andlet me root around for a moment before grabbing my head in his hands, centeredit where he wanted and pulled me to him. Can’t say I was exactly surprised—givenwhat had gone on before—but I was kinda shocked at what I experienced. Wasn’tdisgust or revulsion It was more like a thrill that it was me giving thisgreat-looking guy what he wanted. So I set to work making it as good for him asI could.

He panted hard and moaned andtwitched now and then until he finally let out a gasp and called out.

Oh! Tommy… Tommy!

How about that? I’d gone fromTommy to Tom and back to Tommy in the span of a single evening. But you knowwhat? I didn’t mind his “Tommy” this time. Not at all.

 

*.*.*.*.

Tuned out to bequite a tutoring session, didn’t it? But seemed to me like the wrong guy didthe tutoring. Depends upon the subject matter, I guess. Wonder if they’ll endup as roommates at State?

 

My new anthology,Huntinghawk,was released in February as an Ebook by JMS Books with theprint version to follow soon. Hope you’ll give it a read.

 

My contactinformation is provided below in case anyone wants to drop me a line:

Website and blog: markwildyr.com

Email:markwildyr@aol.com

Facebook:www.facebook.com/mark.wildyr

X: @markwildyr

 

Now mymantra: Keep on reading. Keep on writing.You have something to say, so say it! 

 

See you later.

 

 

Mark

 

New posts first and third Thursday of the month at 6:00a.m., US Mountain time.

 Markwildyr.com,Post #260

Image Courtesyof Vecteezy:

 

Well, did hunky Bunny turn out okay?

 

Today, we’ll do a repost, although Ican’t find the original post. It had to be somewhere around January of 2008,and I’ve revised it, so hopefully, you won’t mind too much.

 

* * * *

COMING OUT IS THE PITS

 

What is it with this “comingout” crap anyway? It took eighteen years to come out to myself, and only thenbecause this jock cornered me in the upstairs stacks of the school library. Mystomach dropped nervously, but my toes curled in excitement when he took whathe wanted. When I accidentally—kinda—saw him again, I figured he wouldn’t wantanything to do with me, but I was wrong. I got a kick out of reducing that machohunk to absolute putty. After that, the die was cast.

Eventually, I came out tomy best friend and lost a lifelong buddy. My big brother called me a snot-nosedpansy and threatened to beat me to a pulp. My mother cried herself sick, and myfather swelled up like a puff adder. At that point, I shut down the “coming out”process.

My parents sent me to anout-of-state university rather than the local community college, probably toget me out of their hair. My name, by the way, is Quentin Utley Ramson, and ifmy initials didn’t clue my parents, they aren’t the bright folks the neighborsbelieve them to be. So far as I’m concerned, there won’t be any “coming out” atthe U. That’s over. Kaput—except—well, there’s this guy I sorta like. Mydorm mate.

Carlton Easton Eavesisn’t the snob he sounds. He puts his pants on and laces his sneakers all byhimself like one of the masses. He moves well in the pool, plays a mean set oftennis, and probably polos okay, too. But he rides rodeo, and that’s a plebeiansport if there ever was one. We’ve gotten pretty chummy, and that brings me tothe nub of my present problem.

East asked me to doubledate with him tomorrow night. Damn! Why can’t we just go to the moviestogether? Why mess it up with a couple of girls?

“Hi, Ram,” he said,materializing at my side on the quadrangle. That was something else I likedabout him, he calls me Ram, which sounds—well, studly. The main thing I digabout East is his six-foot, tapered frame with lean hips and a groin to go downfor! Of course, his corn-colored hair and curious blue eyes and broad, laughingmouth and bronze skin are considerations also. Why the hell he bummed aroundwith olive-skinned, brown-eyed me, I hadn’t figured out yet. I had quickly learnedto avoid the shower room like a vat of acid when he’s in there lest I make afool out of myself. There’s more than one way of coming out, you know.

“Got a date yet?” heposed the dreaded query.

“Maybe you better getsomebody else to go with you,” I blurted in a moment of weakness. “I don’t knowany girls yet.”

“No, way! Get a date. It’llbe fun. Catch you later!” He gave me a manly punch on the shoulder and peeledoff for his own class.

Mary Quadrill, the girlwho sat beside me in Freshman English, was handy, so I blurted out aninvitation just as the class settled into the pre-lecture silence.

“Well, Miss Quadrill,please give Mr. Ramson your answer so the class can turn to more mundaneaffairs,” our prof said dryly.

My ears were aflame, and Mary’scheeks looked like Bette Davis’s in WhateverHappened to Baby Jane.

“Uh—yeah. Yes, I’d liketo go,” the poor girl stuttered.

Despite that promisingstart, things went downhill from there. The movie was okay, but cost too much. Myarm went to sleep over the back of the seat, and afterward, we went to a beerjoint. Frankly, I’m not accustomed to drinking.

When we left the bar, Eastparked on the bluff above the reservoir and turned to his girl, a blonde namedBunny or Billie or something like that. It wasn’t long before they slid downout of sight, and I was alone in the back with a girl.

We smooched, and to mysurprise, I worked up a little steam while listening to the noises from thefront. Mimicking what I thought was going on up there, I dug one of Mary’sboobs out of her brassiere and, ignoring her protest, went for the nipple likea newborn babe. I’d just glommed on to the pink little thing when she twistedmy ear painfully. My cries of “Oh—oh—oh!” went nasal when she got my nosebetween two fingers!

“Behave now?” shewhispered in a lady-like snarl.

“Yeah—yeah!” I whimpered,nodding my head and earning more pain. The pressure was suddenly released, andI straightened up to rearrange my clothing and dignity. Shit! It wasn’t right;paying with an earache for something I didn’t enjoy. Mary was restoring her titto its proper place when East popped up and grinned at me knowingly. Hell’sbells! He’d hit a home run, and all I got was a sore nose and bruised ear.

I expected a karate kickto the groin when we took the girls to their dorm door, but she claimed she’dhad a good time and said we’d have to do it again.

East was restless anddrove around for a few minutes until he found a place to take a piss in thebushes. I wanted to go hold it for him, but couldn’t get up the nerve. Ifingered myself through my trousers while watching his broad back and trimbutt—a mistake because I had to work hard to hide a horrendous bone when he gotback in the car.

“Man,” he moaned as heslammed the door. “I hurt! Haven’t had a nut ache in years.”

I jumped in surprise. He hadn’t made it with Bunny or Billie.

“Lucky dog. Mary’s prettyfoxy,” he went on, tearing me away from his nut ache and the mental image thatconjured. “At least you’re not in my shape.”

He thought I’d made itwith Mary! What the hell made him believe that? Probably those “ohs” and“yeahs” I gave while in Mary’s painful embrace.

I forgot forswearing “comingout” and all that crap and blurted what was sitting right there on the tip ofmy tongue. “I-I, uh, could help you if you’re suffering that much.

“You’d do that for meeven—you know—even though you made it with Mary?”

“Hey, man, what areroomies for? Gotta take care of one another.” Brave words, but my insides werefluttering around like crazy.

“You sure, Ram?”

Not about to let thisopportunity get away, I reached over and touched him where it counted.

He leaned back in theseat and breathed an “ahhhh.”

I told my fingers to playit cool, but they jerked at his belt so hard, he finally pushed my hands awayand freed himself. My dreams were fulfilled when he was exposed to my eyes.Rigid, rampant, and ready.

I stroked him for awhilebringing little moans and groans out of him, but before long I lost control anddid what I wanted. “East,” I said, “this is only for you.”

With that, I lowered myhead and was rewarded with the biggest groan of the evening. He enjoyed my ministrationsfor a few minutes before speaking.

“R-Ram, uh, why don’t wego back to the room. We—oh, man, that felt good—we can get naked and go to bed.”

I came up like a shot. “Deal.”

I had to keep telling himto slow down on the race back to the dorm. Not that I wasn’t in a hurry, but Idamned sure didn’t want a cop to stop us. Writing a ticket and suffering hislecture would’ve cost too much time.

And when the door to ourdorm room closed behind me, Carlton Easton Eaves stripped me naked andinspected every inch of my body before shoving me down on the bed. Then he and rodeme like the rodeo champ he was.

 

*.*.*.*.

I get thefeeling that Ram’s “coming out” was finally successful. What do you think?

 

My new anthology,Huntinghawk,was released in February as an Ebook by JMS Books with theprint version to follow soon. Hope you’ll give it a read.

 

My contactinformation is provided below in case anyone wants to drop me a line:

Website and blog: markwildyr.com

Email:markwildyr@aol.com

Facebook:www.facebook.com/mark.wildyr

X: @markwildyr

 

Now mymantra: Keep on reading. Keep on writing.You have something to say, so say it! (Don Travis keeps reminding me I stole it from him, but he didn’tcopyright it. His bad.)

 

See you later.

 

 

Mark

 

New posts first and third Thursday of the month at 6:00a.m., US Mountain time.

 Markwildyr.com,Post #259

Image Courtesyof Freepik:

 

Hunky Bunny’s been on Cliff’s mind somuch he doesn’t know how much more he can stand. Now they’re alone togetherdrinking beer after a bowling session. Right at the moment, they’re talkingabout Bunny’s coming college experience. Is this it? Let’s see.

 

* * * *

LI’LHONEY BUNNY

“Well,” I said uncertainly.“You have your fraternities and your sororities—”

“I know that.”

“And you have your girls’dorms and your boys’ dorms.”

“I know that too.”

Except there, they’re calledwomen’s dorms and men’s dorms.”

“Aw, come on, Cliff.”

“And you have those who willand those who won’t. Women, that is.” I paused and tried to sound slightlydrunken. “Men too, I suppose.”

“You had much luck?”

“About like back here.”

“Crap. No better’n here?”

I grinned at him. “Well, maybea smidgeon.” I went on to embellish the two or three liaisons with women I’dhad last year. They were all real, but I probably exaggerated a minor detail ortwo. Then I noticed he was getting agitated, so I really threw in somedetails. Bunny took it all in while sucking on bottles of beer. By the time theevening had started growing a beard, it was obvious he was too tipsy to driveus home.

When he finally agreed to thatfact, I realized it was gonna be a bust of a night. Oh, I’d enjoyed Bunny’scompany and had fun, but somehow, I’d hoped something might come of it. Somethingexciting, out of the ordinary… something exciting.

My hopes revived when I gotout of the car to switch seats and drive and decided I need to drain the pipe. Hestaggered to my side, ripped open his fly and threw his arm around myshoulders. As a potentially sensual moment morphed into a fraternal one, wewatered the bushes while I peered through the darkness to get a glimpse of him.No use, not enough light. But I got the impression he was big.

****

I came off my Bunny high andwent to work the next day in a sour frame of mind until he breezed through thedoor and grabbed a soft drink from the cooler. As he paid for his drink, hegave me a smile.

“Really enjoyed hanging lastnight. Have to do it again.”

“Yeah, I enjoyed it too.Anytime.”

He hesitated for a second beforetaking his leave, and as usual, I watched him clear out of sight. Fluid grace.Masculine poetry in motion. Hell, walking sex.

Over the next two days, Ihoped he’d wander back in the store and finish what he’d started by fixing thetime and date for another outing. He didn’t show up until six days latersuggesting that we try the lanes again since it was open bowling that night. Iswallowed my disappointment when I had to decline since I was taking Mom toPollytown to see her sister right after work that evening. I spent the next twodays in a surly mood until it occurred to me there was no reason why Ishouldn’t call him. I dialed his father’s store, but Bunny was out on anerrand. I left a message, only halfway expecting it to be answered. But aboutfour, he called me back.

“Hi, Cliff. It’s Bunny. Got amessage you called.”

“Yeah. You probably alreadyhave plans, but if not, maybe we could do something tonight.”

“Naw. I was just gonna go downto the Fountain—” which I knew was a local teen hangout “—and see what washappening. But I’m game for something. What you have in mind?”

I sure couldn’t answer thatquestion honestly, so I equivocated. “Dunno. You have any ideas?”

“It’s open bowl in Pollytowntonight, we could drive over there.”

“Aw, I dunno—”

“I know,” he suggested, “Youcan use that ID of yours to get us some beer, and we can drive to the lake andrelax.”

“Sounds good to me, but it’s alittle chilly for swimming after dark.”

“Nah. Just hang, like we didthe other night.”

“You got it.”

We made arrangements, and Ispent the rest of the afternoon trying not to screw up whatever my chore of themoment was.

****

I went by the liquor store beforeI picked him up—figured it was my time to drive—and honked for him at six-thirty,as agreed. He bounced out the door looking like a million dollars adjusted for inflationand crawled into the passenger’s seat. We exchanged smiles and greetings, and Itook off like a shot, anxious to get the beer flowing down his throat.

He talked about his day, whileI contributed occasional grunts as we raced toward the lake, a long ten milesdown the highway. When we got there, I had a mild scare when he spotted a fewguys we both knew with their gals and a truckload of alcohol. But I relaxedwhen he said he wasn’t in the mood for a party. We motored on down the roaduntil we found a semi-remote area with a good view of the lake and the moon andstars. He wasted no time grabbing a couple of cans from the cooler in my backseat.

Neither of us talked for a fewminutes, just sucked on our beer and admired the view. I turned half sidewaysin the seat and admired the view I preferred… the roll of muscle in his arms,the play of his Adam’s apple, the flat planes of his chest and concave curve ofhis belly, and… well, and the shadows and valleys farther south. Bunny hadreally turned into an Earthbound Adonis. I could have sat there all nightwithout saying a word, but soon he got restless.

“Tell me more about college,”he finally said, spearing me with a look. Had he caught me gawking at him?

So I spent an hour answeringquestions and describing Mimi Sawtuck in more detail than she deserved, and heobviously at it up.

Eventually, I ran out ofthings to say when he quit asking questions, and a silence grew. Eventually, hebroke it.

“Uh, Cliff….”

“Yeah?”

“You said something last time,but I guess you were just goofing.”

“What did I say?”

“Don’t remember exactly, but Iasked something about sex… meaning sex on camputs, but you said…. Well….”

“I’m game if you are. I said I’mgame if you are.”

“That’s it. Did… did you meanit, or were you just horsing—”

“Every word of it.”

“Meant every word of it?”

“Yep. Meant every word of it.”

“Why would… Well, you told meabout the women you had, so—” He bit his lip. “Were you making that up?”

“Not a bit. Every one of themwas real.”

“Then how come….”

I caught his eye in the brightmoonlight and held it. “Bunny, I’m willing to bet a week’s pay you’re not avirgin. In fact, I’ll wager you’ve sampled more than one of the town’s girls.”

He grinned. “Two. More thanonce.”

“So how come you’reinterested?”

“W-what makes you think I am?”

“Friday night, and here we areout on the lakeshore all alone. You’re the one who brought up the subject. Whywould you do that if you weren’t interested?”

He shrugged. “Curious, Iguess.”

“You ever got with a guy?”

He shook his head. “Nope. Nextdoor neighbor and I jerked off together when we were fifteen. That’s all.”

“How did you feel about itthen?”

“It was okay. Nothing to shoutabout.”

“You must be interested insomething more than jerking off to bring it up now.”

“Aw, just forget—”

I looked him straight in theeye. “Uh-uh, you said you were curious, so let’s get curious.”

“I-I dunno, Cliff.”

“I do. I’ll show you how we doit in college.”

I reached for him. Heflinched, but didn’t bolt. Before the evening was over, Lil ole Honey Bunny hadlearned a lot… and he had learned it well. I think I unleashed a tiger. And I knew one thing for sure. I couldn't call him L'il Honey Bunny anymore.

 

*.*.*.*.

I get thefeeling Cliff got more than he bargained for… turned every way but loose. Howdo you see it?

My new anthology,Huntinghawk, has been released as an Ebook by JMS Books with the printversion to follow soon. Hope you’ll give it a read.

 

My contactinformation is provided below in case anyone wants to drop me a line:

    Website and blog: markwildyr.com

    Email: markwildyr@aol.com

    Facebook:www.facebook.com/mark.wildyr

    X: @markwildyr

 

Now mymantra: Keep on reading. Keep on writing.You have something to say, so say it!

 

See you later.

 

 

Mark

 

New posts first and third Thursday of the month at 6:00a.m., US Mountain time.

 Markwildyr.com,Post #258

Image Courtesy of Freepik:

 

 

Well, Cliff’s seen Li’l Honey Bunnyagain, and the sight knocked his socks off. What do you suppose is going tohappen next? Let’s find out.

 

 

* * * *

LI’LHONEY BUNNY

The day went more slowly thanusual, but eventually it passed. After my shift, I rushed home, showered—forthe second time that day—shaved—ditto—and spent too much time deciding what towear, eventually settling on a pair of walking shorts I’d been told fit menicely in the rear, and a sleeveless polo shirt. As I gave myself a final checkin the mirror, I felt kinda foolish. I hadn’t made such elaborate preparationsfor my last date with a girl. Nonetheless, I felt good as I left for thebowling alley.

Bunny was already at the alleyand looked super in shorts and a muscle shirt that fit like original skin. Myenthusiasm waned when he had two girls in tow. I knew them both, but one,Eileen Whipper, I’d dated in high school. Disappointed though I was, I had toadmit she looked better than the high school Eileen.

“Cliffy!” she exclaimed,opening her arms to me. Nothing to do but move into them.

“Eileen, it’s been too long.”

She held me at arm’s lengthand put a scowl on her face. “You promised to write.”

“That I did, but even my folksdidn’t get a letter. Thought I’d breeze through my classes like in Eldorado,but college is a little tougher. Takes more time.”

She cocked an eye. “That’s yourexcuse?”

“Well, that and sloth.”

“Now I’m starting to believeyou.”

The other girl was closer toBunny’s age, and I knew her only slightly. He reintroduced me to Lila.

Naturally, it was a case of usagainst them, me and Eileen against Bunny and Lila. That was okay. Either way,I got to watch his athletic form do the windup, take the steps, and let go ofthe ball, skewing sideways at the end with his hips cocked. Smooth as chocolatefudge flowing over cherry ice cream. And about as delicious. Strangely, mylicentious thoughts about him made my own butt tingle every time I bowled.

Halfway through the set, I hada thought that almost made me toss a gutter ball. I’d fooled around with a fewguys before, but it had always been a casual thing… you know, guys helping oneanother after striking out on a double date. But here I was actively lustingafter another guy. That was new territory. But there it was. Apparently,nothing to worry about because we were stuck with two gals for the night, andfrom the way Lila clung to her guy, he probably wasn’t going home needytonight. Well, crap!

The set was a close one, but Bunnyand his partner aced us out… probably because I bowled right after Bunny did,and the image of his manly body performing that sexy toss threw me off my game.I was surprised he didn’t start in on that “make me eat my words” thing rightaway, but he didn’t.

We ate in the alley’srestaurant afterward, and I put on a good face even though the night wasn’tgonna turn out the way I wanted, you know, with some one-on-one bonding timewith Bunny.

At the end of the meal, thegirls excused themselves to go to the powder room, so I took the opportunity todrain the pipe. As I was finishing, Bunny entered and stepped to the urinalbeside me.

I’d never experienced “shykidneys” before, but I got an attack of them right then. My stream promptly driedup, yet I didn’t want to leave. Even though there was a modesty panel betweenus, standing side by side holding our private parts in our hands seemed eroticon its own.

“Cliff?”

“Yeah,” I managed to answerand sound natural.

“I’m not into it tonight. Whatsay we ditch the girls and get a six-pack.”

Dunno why, but somehow I hadto make a joke out of it. “Gotcha. You’re not old enough, so you gotta rely onme to buy the booze.”

“Something like that. Yougame?”

“Sure.”

The girls had arrived in theirown car, so we didn’t have to take them home. I was gratified to notice thatEileen seemed as disappointed as Lila. Maybe that boded well for later.

At any rate, after they pulledout of the parking lot, I turned to Bunny to find him watching me.

“You sure you’re okay withgoing stag?” he asked. “Eileen seemed interested.”

“Went with her for a while inhigh school. I’m sure we’ll see one another again. Lila looked disappointedtoo.”

He shrugged. “Getting toointense. I’ll be leaving for college in a couple of months and need to put somedistance between us.” He held up a hand. “I’m not dumping her, you understand.Just trying to prepare us both for what’s coming.”

“Whatever you do, don’tpromise to write her… unless you intend to do it. Things get busy on a collegecampus.”

“Gotcha.”

We agreed on a private placeto demolish a six pack, and I drove to the liquor store to pick up the boozewhile he drove on to stake out a spot. I grabbed the first two six packs out ofthe cooler I saw, threw money on the counter and broke the speed limit to astand of woods just outside of town, holding my breath and praying he’d bethere.

Sure enough, when I pulledinto the grove, there was his Chevy Impala. Grabbing a deep breath and the twosix packs, I scrambled out of my car and slid into the passenger seat of his.

“Ah, salvation!” he breathed,tearing one of the cans out of the container and popping the lid. He took a heftydraft, smacked his lips, and muttered, “Nirvana.”

With something else in mind, Iblurted, “Not quite but almost.”

“Huh?”

To cover my blunder, Iexplained that by the end of his first semester, he’d have had so much beerthat the bloom was off the lily. Still an enjoyable relief from pressure, butsurely not Nirvana.

He seemed to accept myexplanation, settling himself more comfortably and spreading his legs.Unconscious or on purpose?

“So tell me about it. Let meknow what to expect?”

“It?” I asked. Surely not the itI had in mind.

“You know. College.”

So I blathered on for half anhour while our supply of beer steadily dwindled. I went easy, leaving more forhim. Devious son of a bitch, wasn’t I?

At length, he surprised me. “Whatabout sex?”

My mouth dried up, my stomachclinched, but I managed to sound halfway normal. “I’m game if you are.”

He laughed and slapped thesteering wheel. “No, you goofball. What about sex on campus. Give me somepointers.

My stomach dropped down intomy bowels… followed shortly thereafter by my expectations.

 

*.*.*.*.

As we all know,things don’t always turn out the way we plan. Wonder how Cliff’s going tohandle the rest of the summer with Bunny still around? Well, there’s one moreinstallment, so I guess we’ll find out.

 

I now have thecover for the upcoming Huntinghawk, but JMS won’t let me give anyone apeek yet. I like it, and hopefully, so will you. The release date is sometimein February. I’ll keep you posted.

 

My contactinformation is provided below in case anyone wants to drop me a line:

Website and blog: markwildyr.com

Email:markwildyr@aol.com

Facebook:www.facebook.com/mark.wildyr

X: @markwildyr

Now mymantra: Keep on reading. Keep on writing.You have something to say, so say it! (Don Travis keeps reminding me I stole it from him, but he didn’tcopyright it. His bad.)

 

See you later.

 

 

Mark

 

New posts first and third Thursday of the month at 6:00a.m., US Mountain time.

 Markwildyr.com,Post #257

Image Courtesyof Dreamstime:

 

Can you believe it? Here we are wellinto 2024, and I was just getting accustomed to writing 2023. Such is life.

 

Hope you enjoyed the story of the Armybrat and the white park bench. This week, we’ll start another story, maybepluck some different heartstrings.

Let’s get right to it. Here’s Part 1.

 

 

* * * *

LI’LHONEY BUNNY

I remember the day Greg Parkswas born in the house right beside ours on Mason Street. Or at least I recallstories about the event… my mom rushing over to help the doctor, excitedwhispers, a baby crying. They’re vivid in my mind, although I was only four atthe time. But it seemed that my mother coming back home and loudly pronouncingthat the new baby was a real “Little Honey Bunny” was my recollection, notsomeone else’s told so many times it gets mixed up with my own.

So that’s what I called him fromthe time I first laid eyes on the red-faced, squalling bundle of energy moreformally named Gregory Robert Parks. The label worked okay until he reachedMiddle School, and then he began to rebel, taking it as a smack-down. Wasn’tintended that way, but his reaction tickled my fancy, so I kept it up. By thattime, of course, it had simply been reduced to “Bunny,” but I’d use the full appellationon occasion to watch his face turn red. Needless to say, our childhoodfriendship was no longer so close.

I returned home after beingaway at college for four years and moved back into the Mason Street house.Didn’t see much of Bunny upon my return as the Parks had long ago moved toanother part of town. Nonetheless the sight of the white house to the east ofours kicked off memories… including those of Li’l Honey Bunny.

In answer to my questions, Momlet me know Greg had graduated high school and was prepared to leave forcollege at State this fall. Hard to believe the gangly fourteen-year-old I’dlast cast eyes on would soon be a college man. No doubt I’d see for myself, asI was about to start working in my dad’s drug store. The idea of working for ayear at the drug store where I’d started shelving merchandise in short pants beforestarting pharmacy school was long ago implanted in my brain. Dad wanted me tolearn the business end of the store more deeply than what I’d already absorbedby osmosis. He he planned for me to one day replace him as pharmacist… andultimately as manager. That was okay with me. I’d found his puttering andmuttering while mixing this and parsing that fascinating, and I probablyalready knew more about that end of the business than most pre-pharm students.

One day as I looked through asheaf of credit card charges while searching for a specific one, an unfamiliarvoice called my name.

“Clifton? Is that you, Cliff?”

I turned to regard an oddly familiarstranger. A handsome, hunky, totally desirable stranger. My mouth dropped asrecognition dawned.

“Greg?”

The beautiful young manlaughed, his generous green eyes crinkling merrily. “It’s okay, I’m still Bunny.”

“You sure are,” I blurted andgrasped the strong hand he thrust at me. “Damn, guy, you’ve grown.”

“Wee bit. But you look thesame. Guess chasing sorority gals around campus has kept you lean and healthy.”

I gave him a return laugh. “It’sonly when you catch them that it can become unhealthy.”

“I’ll take you word for it.How long you home for?”

I reclaimed my hand, althoughI was enjoying the contact. “Gonna work for a year before going back toPharmacy School. So I’ll be around awhile.”

“Not me,” the dreamboat infront of me said. “Heading out to State this fall.”

“Try not to tear up campus toomuch.”

“Might need some guidance onthat. Maybe you can give me some pointers.”

“Happy to… anytime.”

He started to move away, buthesitated. “I’m working at my dad’s lumberyard for the summer… like every othersummer I can remember. Get off around six. If you’re not doing anything, maybeyou can give me some of those pointers.”

A chill ran down my back. “Yeah,sure. What you wanna do?”

“You still bowl?”

“Some. Probably still beatyour ass.”

“This isn’t a league night, sowhy don’t you meet me at the Fiesta Bowl at eight, and I’ll make you eat thosewords.”

“You’re on.”

I couldn’t help but watch ashe moved down the aisle toward the prescription counter where my father wasworking. The kid had to be a jock. Way he moved, graceful, self-assured… sexy.

Thankfully, the cashier’scounter shielded me as Mrs. Mooseburn walked up, otherwise it would have been obscenelyobvious how intrigued I was by that Li’l Honey Bunny.

*.*.*.*.

Wonder if Cliffhad explored his own sexuality before Bunny caught his fancy… unexpectedly, itseems. He has to be… what 22 or 23 to have graduated from college, so surely hehas. But who knows.

 

At any rate, nowthat he knows, what will he do about it? Assuming, of course, Bunny will permithim to experiment. What do you think?

 

I now have thecover for the upcoming Huntinghawk, but JMS won’t let me give anyone apeek yet. I like it, and hopefully, so will you.

 

My contactinformation is provided below in case anyone wants to drop me a line:

Website and blog: markwildyr.com

Email:markwildyr@aol.com

Facebook:www.facebook.com/mark.wildyr

X: @markwildyr

Now mymantra: Keep on reading. Keep on writing.You have something to say, so say it! 

 

See you later.

 

 

Mark

 

New posts first and third Thursday of the month at 6:00a.m., US Mountain time.