Benjie’s Dad Special Friend, Patrick
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Benjie’s Dad Special Friend, Patrick
or
A Loving Tune It Is. Sweet Music.
This is a story about Patrick. When he was younger. He is one of Benjie’s dad’s “special” friends. Patrick is the man talked about in the BENJIE’S DAD story. This story takes place while Patrick was in college and working as an attendant in a convalescent home.
1
“You recognize that song, Patrick?”
There is a little radio on the table between the two. It is turned to a local radio station that plays oldies. The oldies but goodies. Their overused tagline you hear all too often on shows like this.
“Uh. No!” The attendant answers the older man sitting in the rocking chair directly across from him on the spacious front porch.
“Patsy done sung it. It was one of Willie’s songs. He sang it first.”
“She sings it better.” The young man says. “Just like when Whitney sung Dolly’s song.”
“Dolly’s way was much better. She wrote the song.” The older man remarks gruffly.
“That’s a matter of opinion.”
“No! Its not!” The older man says like he is right. “It is a fact!”
But Patrick was not going to argue with the old cuss. He had found it useless to do so, so many conversations ago. And this one was headed in that same direction as the previous ones.
“I was listening to that song when I met the love of my life. And I miss him so much.” The older man remarks.
“Wait? What? Miss him so much?” The attendant says puzzled.
But the older man goes mum.
“When? You met ‘him’? Who?’ The younger man questions. “A man was the love of your life?”
The older man nods his head. As a teardrop steadily rolls down the old man’s wrinkled cheek.
“What was his name?” The young man is curious. This is unexpected. And very surprising.
“Robbie.” The old man says. “His name was Robbie. With and ‘ie’ and not a ‘y’”
There is a pause from the old man, another part of the conversation with him that the young man knows he had to contend with. There are always these quiet pauses. It is how he controls the conversation.
“I heard he died last week.” And the man’s face erupts into a cascade of tears. His face goes into his gnarled hands as he tries to cover the grief that has overwhelmed him where he sits in his rocker. Which he had stopped rocking. Until he raises his head and looks directly into the young man’s face.
“We made us some sweet music together, Patrick, when this tune would pop up on the radio. A loving tune it is. Sweet music.”
The young man can hear the joy in the old man’s voice at he remembers. The pride. The reawakening.
“I surprised you. Didn’t I?” The old man continues. “And you know what I mean by sweet music, doncha you?”
“Yes. You made love.” The young man says softly. Tenderly. Gently.
The young man’s face turns a crimson red at what the old man has openly said. Is suggesting.
“Doncha be getting all embarrassed on me now. I’ve heard the conversations you’ve had with your man on the phone.” The old man says. “What I just said was tame compared to what I have heard you say to him.”
“You heard me?”
“I may be a little slow. Boy. And my hearing may not always get everything that is being said. But I know when I hear a man arguing with someone they love. And boy, do love that man of yours. Doncha?”
Patrick smiles.
“When I met Robbie, he was all sprawled out on some raggedy couch. A big ole gray cat perched on his chest, pawing at all his tiny lil’ chest hairs. Boy, was that one hairy son-of-a-gun. It is what I like, though. Still do, mind you. Running my fingers all through it. It got me hard. Back then. It still would if my cock worked like it usta. But it don’t. It shore don’t.” The old man continues.
“What brought you to see him?”
“I had to get my car repaired. He was a mechanic. An a damned good one. I might add.” The old man tells Patrick. “A friend had told me all about Robbie. No. It was my secretary. She told me all about him.”
“I was smitten with him from the very moment I first laid my eyes on’em.” The old man continues. “I don’t usually go for the dirty ones like him, but Robbie was different. It was magnetic. At least for me it was. It took him a little while to come around. But he did. Times were different then than they are now. You know. It was the early seventies in down south.”
This is more than Patrick ever expected to hear out of the mouth of Old Man Reeves.
“And that song had been playing on the radio. It was crazy. Crazy. I’ll never forget it.” Mr. Reeves says before he drifts off again into the void.
“And what happened next, Mr. Reeves?” Patrick asks. But the old man has slipped back into the deep recesses of his mind. “Mr. Reeves? Mr. Reeves? Mr. Reeves?” But the younger attendant can hear the old man as he gently snores. He is not dead. He is just napping. He has drifted off into sleep.
2
“You Burgess Reeves?” The man says as he stands and lifts the overweight gray cat off his hairy chest. “Fuck! The damned cat done up and scratched me!”
A faint speck of blood comes from the scratch on his chest. The few drops of red liquid tangles itself among the mass of curly hairs that are in flowering in abundance on the man’s chest.
“I prefer Burg.” He says to the shirtless mechanic.
“I am just going by what Miss Karen done up and told me, mister.”
“Well, Karen tends to be more formal than is necessary. So, can you fix it?” Burg Reeves says.
“I’ll have to look at it, first, but I am sure I can. Its your front end and the rear, you say, right?’
“Yes.” Burg can feel the hard-on grow in his slacks. But he swats it down. The damn music is so loud. And it is playing that song he loathes more than anything in this world. Sue likes it, though, his wife. Crazy. It is crazy.
“You got yourself a bathroom in this here establishment?” Burg asks.
“Yep. Keep walking back. Pass all the cars. It does not have a door. Though. You will see the toilet.” The young shirtless mechanic says.
“No door?”
“Nope!” The mechanic says, “It is just me. Don’t need any.”
Burg walks through the maze of cars and equipment and finds the doorless bathroom. He mumbles under his voice. But makes the single step over the threshold.
He throws his tie over his shoulder. And spaces his two leg apart as he is readying for his stance over the toilet.
He fondles the outside of his neatly pressed slacks as he unsnaps them and finds the zipper and unzips. And then he fishes out his cock amongst the hairs around it.
He hears himself let a much-needed sigh when the piss hits the white porcelain bowl.
“Mister. I need the keys.” A voice booms out the blue.
Burg had his eyes closed and is startled by the deep baritone voice of the hairy shirtless man.
“What? What? Who?”
“Mister, I’ll be needing to get your keys if you want me to take a gander at your car.”
Burg can feel the eyes of the young man sweep over him. His cock peeking through the opening of his unzipped fly of his slacks. Burg scrounges through his pockets and finds his car keys. His pants tend to fall from his hips while fidgeting through his pockets. He tosses the keys to the young man and in those instant turns and gives the man the free full view of his dense pubes and his semi-hard cock.
The mechanic smiles as he catches the car keys and the view he is afforded from Burg’s open fly.
“Thanks Mister.”
The mechanic is clad in a dirty pair of jeans. Rips and tears run are all throughout the mechanic’s pants. It looks like they would fall off him were the right string tugged.
By the time Burg emerged from the bathroom his car was up on the only available lift and was towering above both.
The mechanic was under it and peering up at the underbelly of his car.
Burg walks to the man. The shirtless barely clad masculine mechanic.
“You see it?”
“Mister, I just got it up.” The mechanic says. His pants now opened at the waist revealing a hairy nest inside his jeans. This does not go unnoticed by Burg Reeves. But the man quickly averts his eyes away from the mechanic’s display of wares.
“What’s your name, by the way? Karen never told me.” Burg says as the two stands under the uplifted car.
“Robbie. My name is Robbie. Mister.”
Burg extends his hand to the young man and the young man does the same. Each are locked in a fierce grip. And both are greeted with one of equal return. A good sign for both on the character of the other.
“Nice to me you Robbie.’ Burg says.
“Likewise, Burg.” Robbie says. “It shore be an awful hot day. Ain’t it?”
“It is.”
“There is some pop in the fridge or a beer. Your choice. Why doncha go get you one and cop-a-squat out there under the oak tree out the backdoor. I’ll come git you when I get myself a quick looksee of your car, here.” Robbie says. “Okay?”
Burg smiles and heads to the old, rusted fridge in the back corner by the bathroom and grabs one of the beers and heads out the door to the large looming oak tree. Along the way he has loosened his tie and taken it from its tight embrace around his neck. He finds a chair in the shade under the majestic oak and cops-a-squat like Robbie suggested.
He sighs when he sits down and takes that first gulp of the cool liquid across his lips.
It is then he realizes that his cock is throbbing and rock hard in his slacks. He goes to adjust it and lets his hand rest atop it. This is what he saw when he first met Robbie. His hand was cupping his dick in his pants and his hand was wedged underneath as if he had fallen asleep with his hand under his balls while he was also fondling his cock. And the gray cat came up and nuzzled itself on his chest after he had dozed off.
This was the last thoughts he had as he caught himself dozing off in his sleep. He was not sure how long he was out before he heard his name echoing in his head.
“Burg! Burg!” The voice of the young mechanic.
“What? What?” He says as he burst out of his sleep stupor.
“I know what it is that is the matter with your car.”
“What?” Burg asks jarred back to the heat-filled day.
“It is the front end.” Robbie says. “And all you need are two new tires on the rear.”
“So, it isn’t that bad, then?” Burg asks.
“No.” Robbie says. “Do you have someone coming out here to get you? You really should not be driving that car.”
“I’ll have to call my wife.” Burg says. “No. I can’t she is away at some church gathering for a day or two.”
“I can take you home. But it is going to be a while before I can do it.” Robbie explains.
“How long?”
“A coupla hours. Or less. I can’t rightly say how long. Sorry.”
“A couple of hours? Really?” Burg says.
“I am afraid so.” Robbie says. “You look like you are melting, Burg.”
“I feel like it.” Burg says. “I know why you are shirtless now.”
And both men laugh.
“It does get awful hot here in the garage.” Robbie explains. “If you follow that trail there.”
Robbie points to a very discernable path through the brambles and brush.
“You can go for a swim in the pond.” Robbie says.
“A swim?”
“Yeah. I do it all the time.” Robbie explains.
“You do?” Burg asks.
“Yes.”
Burg wanted to ask him about a swimsuit, but he had guessed the man did not wear any. Not that it mattered. Who would see?
Burg gets up from the chair and trudges through the path and finds the secluded pond. While Robbie goes back into the garage.
It was peaceful. It is as if he had stepped into another world once he emerged from the brambles and the low hanging branches of the oaks and towering pines.
He throws his tie atop one of the little pines. It is soon joined by his white button-up dress shirt. That this morning was freshly ironed when Sue handed it to him. Now it looked like a wet discarded rag from all his sweat soaked into the fabric. Then he kicked his shoes from his feet. The shoes he hated more than anything. His feet hurt because of them but the other men in the office wore them so he did so too. Next was the dark dress slacks. Once they were off, he felt cooler.
Before the boxers comes off, he looks all around him. He wonders are there any souls lurking in these woods. Spying on him. He had seen no other houses near Robbie’s or the garage when he pulled up into the yard.
In one swift motion, he shucks his loose boxers, steps out of them, and lobs them over one of the spindly struggling pine bearing all the weight of his other sweat-soaked garb.
He stands for a moment. Like the fable first man in Eden, he imagines and takes it all in. He feels free. Unencumbered. And horny. Each garment being removed made him harder and harder. And now his cock is pointing out from his midsection like one of those missiles he has heard about being made.
His hand goes to this erection. And stays there. It feels good. In those clothes he felt older than his thirty-five years. Robbie, the mechanic, looks to be about his same age too but appears to be spry and not bothered by the ills of this cruel world. Perhaps it is because Robbie is out here in the country, while he is stuck in the city.
Burg lets his hand roam across his chest. Flowing over the muscles there. He is far less hairy than Robbie. Although he does have some, he is not quite the furry creature as the mechanic. But he is happy for what he has been blessed with. He rarely goes shirtless. Sue, his wife, seems to be bothered by his attempts at random nakedness. But he has always liked to be naked. His hand travels southward but not wanting it to be alone, he lets his other hand join in. Both frolic in the treasure trail of fur that grows near his navel, and which burst into a full bush into the curly hairs circling his rod-hard cock. He wants to shout and scream but Robbie might come running to see if there is a problem. He does not want any company right now although the country mechanic is not a bad sight on his deep brown eyes. Robbie reminds him of a former classmate he once played baseball with back in high school. He was hairy too. Much more than the other guys on the team. Many of them were jealous of how much hair their teammate had. They were not particularly close, but his eyes always lingered a little longer on him than he should. He wandered if they knew about him. None said anything but he worried.
Burg wades out in the water. His cock still hard as he dives into the water. It is cool. Unlike the southern heat. He swims around a bit. The cool drink massages his body, and he feels the stress melt away and the erection eventually disappears in the water. The solitude is nice. He does not feel lonely. What he feels can only be described as ‘at peace.’
He was glad that he had brought his car all the way out here and had taken the day off. It was not something he did on a normal basis, but he was tired of doing those things that other people did. He wanted a break. No. He needed one. It was a necessity. It was a choice.
3
“Uhuh. Uhuh.” Burgess Reeves grumbles as he comes out of his sleep.
“There you are.” Patrick says as the old man wakes up from his nap.
“Did I doze off?”
“Yes.” Patrick says. “Right as your story was getting interesting.”
“So, I wasn’t dreaming about that?’
“No, you were telling me all about Robbie.” Patrick says.
Old Man Reeves looks to the attendant. He can see that the boy has a hard-on in his scrubs.
“I made you hard, didn’t I?” Burg says.
Patrick does not answer. There is no need to. He can clearly see the attendant’s cock pressed near breaking inside the crotch of his scrubs.
“You’ve got yourself a big one too.” Burg says to the attendant as he lingers on the swelled groin in front of him. “Enjoy it.”
Patrick lets the old man say his piece. He is hard. There is no doubt about it, but he did not want to entertain the old man’s notions. He would just not say anything. But he could not hide his rather large cock. But Old man Burg Reese was not finished. He was determined.
“Are you a top or a bottom? Patrick?” The old man asked.
Patrick did not know what to say. But he figured he knew what the words meant. He was asking. Patrick thought he would be smart and turn it back on the old man.
“What are you?”
Old Man Reese expected this. And he had an answer.
“When I fucked. I was a top. I like the feel of a man’s soft tender ass wrapped around my cock as it squeezed me. Gripped my cock as I rammed it all the way in. Over and over again.”
“I like to have a cock plunged into my hole.” Patrick said without realizing what he had said. And when he did, he face turned as bright of red as anytime he been in his life.
“You be a bottom. I did not expect that, we that big ole cock of yours, you got dangling between your legs.”
Old Man Reese saw the worry on the attendant’s face. He gently placed his hand on the attendant’s leg. And spoke.
“Patrick don’t worry I ain’t going to say anything to anyone. I do not think anyone would believe me anyway. I know they think I am crazy. But all I am saying is true. That damned song brought back up this memory.” Old Man Burg Reese says to console the young man.
He could tell Patrick was listening to him that his words had helped.
“So. How big is that cock of yours? Eight? Nine inches?”
Patrick did not answer but he was not lacking. It was not a problem for him. Keeping it manageable in his scrubs was. He could not hide it, especially when he got one of his massive boners.
“I bet you have some fun with that thing. If I was younger. I know we would be having a good ole time.” Old Man Reese continued. “You do know that my grandson is gay doncha?”
Patrick nodded his head, ‘no.’ But that was a lie. Patrick knew Old Man’s Reese’s grandson. He knew him quite by chance. But Patrick once again had to divert attention away from him.
“So, what happened next with you and this Ronnie fella?” Patrick says trying to get Mr. Reese off talking about his cock.
“Well, I was swimming out behind garage. After he had told me about the pond. Minding my own business.” Old Man Reese continues.
“What? What? You went swimming?”
Old Man Reese nods his head.
“I went swimming. Yes!”
All Patrick can do now is to listen in awe. The old man had been full of surprises this morning. It was not the day he was expecting when he left the one-night stand’s apartment that morning. But that had no been either. But the picture in the guy’s apartment was the kicker. Him and Old Man Reeves behind a birthday cake. It was how Patrick knew Reese’s grandson.
4
He could hear something as he swam beneath the water. The thump-thump of whatever it was as it bounced off the surface. When he plopped through the surface, he found the disruption. It was Robbie with a radio blaring through the woods.
“How’s the water?” Robbie shouts out to him. As he is out in the center of the little pond.
“Good! Good!”
He sees Robbie begins to pull his jeans down. He expected the man to be naked underneath, but he was surprised to see a tattered jockstrap. One of those wide-banded ones and made by the BIKE company. From where he was it looked all worn out and used. There appeared to be a small hole in the mesh holding up his cock. This basket looked filled to it fullest with the man’s cock.
Robbie gently pulls down the more-than-used jock and steps out of it. Tossing it atop his discarded jeans in the sand.
Burg’s cock got hard in the water. The man was blessed. Truly blessed.
Robbie’s hand went to his cock and began fondling it, loosening the pubes that have stuck to it from his perspiration.
“That’s better.” He says. “I have wanted to be out that thing for a while.”
Burg knew why. Such a creature should not confine itself to a cotton mesh cage of a jockstrap.
“The music. Okay?” Robbie asks as he bends down to pick up the little radio. When the man bent, he turned his backside to Burg. When he did this Burg could see the fine dark hairs that permeate the man’s well-developed ass. Burg’s cock got even harder beneath the water’s surface.
“You didn’t answer me. How’s the water?’
Burg had answered but it was a mumbled ‘good.’ He has been awestruck and surprised by Robbie’s sudden appearance. He had expected the man to fetch him when it was time to go, he just never expected him to join him on his swim.
“The water’s good!” Burg managed to be say, louder.
Robbie walks out and into the water. His cock being as long (and thick) as it was touched the water easily from his midsection. Burg’s mouth was agape at what equipment the mechanic was sporting. This was the biggest cock he had ever seen. And he has seen many.
When Robbie surfaced in front of him. He was still unsure of what to say to the well-endowed man.
When Robbie stood in front of him. The water cascading off him like a waterfall. The hairs across his body holding the liquid reminded him of the stories of forest creatures his mom read to him about as a kid. Surely this man was created by some heavenly god in a world beyond his limited understanding.
“You okay, Burg?” Robbie says as they stand almost face-to-face in the shallow depths of this solitary pond. The music gently wafting across the distance from the pond’s bank.
“Oh, I am fine.”
“It’s my cock, ain’t it?” Robbie asks. “I get that response from most when they see it.”
“All I can say is, Brother, you are one lucky son-of-a-bitch.”
“It is good sometimes and not so good in the other.”
“What do you mean?” Burg asks. “The gals aren’t scurrying after you?”
Robbie didn’t answer Burg. Not for a second or two at least.
“People run scared.”
“Girls? Women? Why?” Burg asks.
“They are afraid to be fucked by it.” Robbie winces. “And it ain’t just the girls.”
“Not me. I ain’t scared.” Burg says before he realizes what he has said. But a smile slyly creeps across Robbie’s face acknowledging what he had heard.
“You ain’t afraid?”
Burg shakes his head in a defiant, ‘no.’
And then Robbie dives under the water. Between Burg’s legs he feels the man brush against his legs as he swims through them. The mechanic pops up a few feet from him. The water ever streaming off him like a flood through a forest through the man’s hairy growth on his well-muscled body.
“When we get through, with our swim I can take you home.” Robbie says as he sleeks back his hair with his hands. “Give me until Friday, maybe before and I can have what needs fixing on your car. Done.”
“What’s it gonna cost me?”
“We’ll work that out. You’re good for it? Right?” Robbie asks. But he knows the man is. Of that he has no doubts. The suit, minus the coat said all he needed to say, plus Aunt Karen works with the man. And she makes good money. Or so his mama says.
“Of course, I am.”
“That’s what I thought.” Robbie answers. And he dives back into the shallow depths of the water. His cock feels like an anchor between his legs. He drags it in its softness like a dredge through the soft muck of the pond’s bottom. Now just to keep the damn few catfish in the pond away from him. The bait he has is sure to be an enticement to the few fishes.
Burg and Robbie stay some distance away from each other as they frolic in the water. Robbie worried about the reaction he would get from the stranger once he stripped himself of his jeans and jock. But the man went swimming when he suggested it; not something he expected him to do. Most sit under the oak and grumble not even getting a beer or a soda-pop out of the fridge when offered. They just sit and fume. But this man was different.
Burg made his way over to the bank. He could hear Robbie behind him. The splash of the drops of water hitting the otherwise quiet waters told him the man was near. He was afraid that his cock would get hard once he stepped from the pond. He was sorely lacking around his crotch compared to Robbie. And that did not make him comfortable.
He stood and faced the pond. He had to drip dry some before he could put back on his clothes. But the day was still hot. The sun still some distance up in the sky.
“How old are you Burg?” Robbie asks as he nears him in the water.
“Thirty-five.” Burg answers. “And you?”
“Thirty-three.”
Burg could not help but stare at this man. His hairy groin drew his attention and with what looked like a long snake draped between his legs, Robbie looked almost devilish. Burg felt inadequate.
“How big is your cock?” Robbie asks Burg.
“When I am hard. I am 6, maybe 7 inches. Not exactly sure.” Burg says.
“Is that what most men are?” Robbie asks.
“I don’t think so. I thought I had a big cock. Up until I met you, today, anyways.” Burg says.
There was no need to measure Robbie’s tool. The size was readily apparent. He overshadowed other men just by being soft.
“And you fuck with that cock of yours Burg?”
“I do alright.” Burg says, “But you know how it is. I cannot get enough. People are even scared of mine.”
As they talk Burg’s cock begins to stiffen. It is not long before his cock points out dagger-like from between his thighs.
“It is a nice cock.” Robbie says.
Burg lets his right hand go to it. Getting himself a few more hefty strokes.
“There are a few people back there in the woods. I would get that thing down. Someone would show up. Interrupt our carrying-on.” Robbie says. “An ole scraggily little fella lives back there.”
“Scraggily little fella?” Burg says.
“Don’t ask.” Robbie replies.
“Oh!” The possibility of being seen automatically softens Burg’s burgeoning hard cock.
“It does look good though.” Robbie says. “Something I would be proud to have.”
Burg did not expect that, and he was not exactly sure what the man meant by it.
5
“And you didn’t do anything?” Patrick says once Old Man Reese finished that part of his story.
“People might have walked up, Boy. This was the seventies in the South.” Old Man Reese explains. “We weren’t hippies. Although I am sure there was some big ole cocks swinging up there in the State of New York at that Woodstock music place. People were naked. I saw it all on TV back then. Damn, I would have had a good time. I sure would have.”
This catches Patrick by surprise. He knew Old Man Reese had been a deacon in the First Baptist church downtown. But everything he has heard today has negated any of his so-called Christian work. Or so he has been told by his Mama when he came out to her.
“So, you two just stood there. Naked as the day your Mamas birthed you?” Patrick asks the surprise in his voice that he has loosened up in his talk.
“That we did.” Old Men Reese. “We had to dry ourselves off in the sun before we both put on our clothes.”
“I have a question.” Patrick says.
“Ask away. I’ll answer if I can.”
“Okay.” Patrick says. “That’s fair.”
Patrick winces. Rocking his ass in his adjacent chair. Either his ass was sore, or he was not sure on how to ask his question.
“You said he was in a jockstrap.”
“Yes, I did.” Old Man Reese says. “He was. And it was quite a sight. Mind you. It looked like an extremely long banana in a hammock. A damn wonderous sight. I might add.”
“Well, how’d he gets himself a jock that would fit him? Is what I want to know.”
Old Man Reese brings his fingers to his face. Scratches it. And then speaks.
“He told me he had to special order it. He up and called the company and got one special made for him.” Old Man Reese says.
“You asked him?”
“I did.” Old Man Reese insists.
“You aren’t just saying that because I asked, are you?”
“No Boy, I asked him. I had a problem finding one that would fit me back then. So, I asked him. I did.” Old Man Reese says.
Patrick has his doubts. He is unsure if what the man is telling him is the truth.
“Boy I asked him. I swear. I remember it all as clear as day. We were standing in the bright southern sun. The water from that pond evaporating off our two bodies. Me with a hard-on. It had returned as he described to me the hardships of being blessed with such an endowment.”
Old Man Reese remembers. He took his cock in his hand and began to stroke himself. Be damned if anyone sees him as he stood naked as the day he was born next to the hairy mechanic.
6
“So, you done up and called the jockstrap company?” Burg asked Robbie as his gently fondles his once-again hard cock.
“I did. Talked to a nice man. Told him about how I like to wear them jockstraps with the no-behinds in them. I like my ass to be free. And that I had a difficult time finding one that fit me properly. Told him I have to do something to keep my cock where I am not so obvious to the world.” Robbie explains.
Burg listens. Still unsure of the story. But he did ask how he got such a proper fitted jockstrap.
“They sent someone down here from whatever to my garage. Measured me.” Robbie nods his head as he can see the reluctance on Burg’s face, but he continues with his tale. “The man even swam naked in this here pond too after I told him I swam here nearly every day during the summer. He didn’t believe me until I showed him.”
“Okay. I believe you. I do.” Burg says.
“He even sucked on my cock.” Robbie says. “I let him. That man was one hell of a cocksucker. Took most of me into his mouth. What he could, anyway. He dumped his load right where you are standing Burg. I promise. Dumped it right where you are standing.”
Burg could believe that. Just looking at that fine specimen of manhood had gotten him hard. He could understand the man, any man, wanting to get his lips wrapped around it. He wants too, himself.
As the two talked the country music continues to blare from the radio. It is that damned song again. How crazy can it be? He wants to throw it into the water, but it may mess up any chance of getting that cock near him.
“No one came up?” Burg asks.
“No. We were lucky that day I suppose.”
Burg just listened. The sun has nearly dried them both. Burg slid on his slacks minus his underwear. He did not want to crush his cock in his boxers. He did not really want to put on his pants. It was a freedom he sorely longed for but rarely got to experience.
“You aren’t gonna dump your load out here?” Robbie asks as he manages to slides his snake of a cock into his ripped and frayed jeans.
“No jockstrap?” Burg asks.
“I am just taking you home. No need to worry ‘bout it. Right?” Robbie asks. A sly smile creeping across his face.
“I suppose so.”
Both men trudge back through the bramble and brush, swatting away at the bugs and mosquitos stirred up by there walk through the path and emerge under the large canopy oak with the chair’s underneath.
“My truck is in the garage. Let us get you home.”
7
“And he took you home?” Patrick asks. “He took you home?”
“He did. He shore did.” Old Man Reese says. Sharp. And to the point.
“You said this man, Robbie died last week, right?”
“Yes.” Old Man Reese says. “He did. I read it in the paper.”
“Did he live out there on river road?” Patrick asks.
“Yes, that’s where his garage was. The only one out there, I reckon.”
“That was my great Uncle Robert.” Patrick says.
Old Man Reese knew this. Robbie had told him, on his last visit out to the river road mechanic’s home before he moved into the nursing home that his great nephew worked where he was going. Burg smiles to himself. This is all he intends to tell the boy, Patrick. The boy does not need to know any more of the intimate details of his uncle’s and his long-lasting relationship but there is more. Once he got back to his home. The real story began for the two men. Robbie. Uncle Robert. And Burg Reese.
To be continued.