Something Different

From your Author:

If you are a reader, you know I share personal shit with you. I talk about stuff in the news and things about my personal life. Here’s some of the personal shit to make this relevant. I will be sixty in June. I have two sons and two grandsons; one, who has a gift. You may need to read the other stuff I’ve written to fully understand.

On Thanksgiving Day my eldest Od’d on Fentanyl. Thanks to the fact his Dad knew CPR, the fast response of EMS, the fact they had Narcam, he survived but. My grandsons will never think about Thanksgiving without thinking about the last. I have recently taken matters into my own hands.

‘Today I stumble from my bed with thunder crashing in my head; my pillow still wet from last night’s tears. And as I think of giving up, a voice inside my coffee cup kept crying out, ringing in my ears; Don’t cry, Grampy. Grampy please don’t cry, don’t cry. Grampy, you still got me and little Tommy and together we’ll make a brand new family. Grampy, Grampy, please laugh again. Grampy ride us on your back again, oh Grampy please don’t cry.’

I have taken custody of my grandsons. Their father has let them down and his wife is as much an addict as he is but thinks god will prevail. Me and god have gone a round or two; just so you know. My grandsons now live with me in the same house I raised their father.

‘Don’t cry. Why are children always first to feel the pain and hurt the worst; it’s cruel somehow, it just don’t seem right. It just don’t seem right.

I find myself a father again of two teenage boys. RJ will be fourteen in May and his little brother will be thirteen in October. I will be sixty in June. For those who don’t understand you will need to go back to Robby and Ryan to fully get the meaning of what’s happened.

I have money, and I have, Parker. My sons godfather. That allowed me to take my sons boys from him and he doesn’t even realize it was him, who gave them up.

‘Cause every time I cry I know it hurts my little grandsons so; I wonder will it be the same tonight. Don’t cry Grampy, Grampy, please don’t cry. Grampy, you still got me and little Tommy and together we’ll make our own new family; Grampy, Grampy, please laugh again, ride us on your back again, oh Grampy, thank you.”

I have a restraining order against my son and his wife; visits are supervised with a Sherriff at the gate. How can a drug addict ever think she could win against me? After all these years she doesn’t know RJC, or the lengths I’ll go to, for the ones I love.

‘Oh Grampy, please don’t. Oh Grampy, thank you.’

I took them. The boys whose father OD’d on Thanksgiving and a mom who wants to rid her oldest son of the demons with a prayer circle that scared the shit out of him. My relationship with my first born is ruined, the second born thinks; I don’t know what he thinks, my grandsons; after seeing what a normal life can be, they want nothing to do with the pair who made them. And I sing for another generation.

Now, for those of you who may be reading for the first time; I might have just scared you off. Honesty, I’ve shared maybe, too much to continue reading or perked an interest to dig deeper. I know of no other Author who shares like I do, puts myself out there, And I hope you enjoy what takes up much of my time now, Something Different. RJC.

 Nate’s POV:

Cameron Jones. Cam, is my best friend, has been for as long as I can remember, and he never fails to put a smile on my face when I think about him. There must be millions of memories we share but tonight all I could think about is stuff like the first time we beat off together. It only took a dozen times before the night I reached over to hold his dick in my hand; just to feel what a normal one was like.

It was so… Cameron. It looked like the perfect porn dick all proportionate and shit. The bell of his head was bigger compared to the shaft and his pubes were blondish where mine were black. The way he jacks off is with his hand in a fist, the thumb running over the top part of his flared head; where I do it backwards because of my freak dick.

After breaking my best friends heart and leaving like I did; I walked in telling my dad I’d been kicked out of school for fighting. Some fag had sucker punched Cam so I beat his queer ass. My language was something I knew would make my dad and his friends laugh. Dad and his drinking buddies had a litany of descriptive words to describe faggots. Cocksuckers, butt fuckers, fudge packers, and the list went on. That’s why I freaked out today.

I’ve seen enough porn and been in my share of locker rooms; I’m a freak. Cam used to say he wished he had a cock like mine where all I wanted was for mine to be normal like his. He’d tell me I was going to drive some girl crazy with that thing someday just to make me feel better about myself. I’d even tried splitting it to maybe get some of the curve out; but it hurt.

I’d always wondered what it would be like shooting on my stomach or even my chest; maybe my face, like Cam can. It just won’t bend like that. It took us some time to figure out the best way for Cam to jack me; most of the positions I used were uncomfortable at best. Cameron was determined. One night he had an idea and told me to take a shower and wash my ass. It seemed like a strange request.

He had a bottle of Aloe Vera gel and told me to keep standing with my legs apart a little as he got on his knees behind me. We were both laughing at his persistence wanting to get me off as I had him. He kissed my ass and laughed harder telling me if I ever told him to ‘kiss my ass’ I would have to say ‘again.’ It was really funny considering the position we were in.

So here was my best friend with his arms between my legs from behind, fingers locked, more gel than I thought was needed, and he stroked my freak shaft. It felt amazing but I couldn’t stand bull-legged like that for long and Cam couldn’t see me. We liked to see each other cum.

I watched him scour the room for another idea when he told me to get on the bed. With my head on the pillows and my legs spread a little he put some other pillows at the foot of the bed. He scooted up until our shafts were together, our butt cheeks touched, and the angle was perfect for him to jack me just like he did himself.

The lube was an added bonus and for the first time, my best friend stroked me in a way I couldn’t. It really is a memory I don’t think anyone can forget; when you didn’t have to touch yourself to get off. He asked me if it was ok and all I could do was nod. What a fucker he was; all I wanted to do was cum and all he wanted was to make me want it more. He’d stop and pull my balls, my sack, and even the hair on my legs. I smile remembering.

Cameron had found a position that worked for both of us and wasn’t going to rush, wasn’t gonna run or even walk me to orgasm. He fuckin crawled and when I was ready to cry; he pulled me over the hurdle. I did what Cam can do but it was his stomach, chest, and face I came on. And our laughter started again. I was so… embarrassed when I looked up at him.

He had stopped stroking with both hands and was blending our cum with his other. I was pretty sure what was in his hair wasn’t from me but what was under his eye and across his nose could have been me. It was the best and the sound of Cam’s laugh is music to my ears. Watching him run is candy to my eyes and him looking at me is like butterflies in my heart. Yes, I had it bad even back then.

That night was a week after our birthdays and two weeks before a youth club opened for kids sixteen and over. Cam had been in choir for years and was always in the back never shining, never out front showing what he could do, just doing what he does to help someone not as good sound better and get an A.

The place had lots of tables where kids gamed, others played old-school video games, pinball, some pool, and the rest bought food and pop for three times more than anywhere else. And there was a little stage along with a dancefloor. Just getting in was an ordeal, ID, search and bag checks, a metal detector, and big guys in security tee-shirts.

I guess the place held about three hundred or so and on that first night it sounded like a girl dying in a microphone; we both covered our ears. Karaoke. It was hard getting through the place and I lost Cam but from across the room, I spotted him by the stage thumbing pages in a book then nodding. I threw my hands in the air waving him over as a guy from our school attempted, Billy Idol. Attempted, being the keyword.

Some time passed and even worse singers made their debut as the rest of us suffered. If you don’t know; when you hear your name called out over a PA system, it gets your attention. ‘Nathan Dickerson. Nathan Dickerson, come on up.’ And Cam turned smiling at me walked up as I was shitting myself. There were a few in the house that knew us and knew, he wasn’t me.

I didn’t recognize the medley and I heard a boo from the back when he started.“I’ve been really trying baby, trying to hold back this feeling for so… long.”And he moved his hands across his stomach and chest. It was hot, as, fuck.

I watched him walk a short distance to a guy with a girl on his arm and there was a little talking. Cam reached for her hand and kissed it leading her to where he started with all the swag of a pop star but now with a senior cheerleader from our school standing in front of him. His left hand rested on her stomach, mic in his right, and he started again over her shoulder. Now there were more boos.

“And if you feel like I do baby, then come on, come on; Let’s get it on.” And Cam started swaying behind her, grinding, I could see it and the girl was blushing.

Yes, my best friend has the confidence I lack, he is sure of himself on a board or a bike; I’d never seen this side of him and a low rumble of voices drowned out the one or two boos as everybody started inching closer.

“Let’s get it on, awe baby, let’s get it on.” And I could tell Cam was probably gonna get his ass kicked trying to get out of here and I wasn’t looking forward to getting mine kicked just by association.

“Let’s love baby, Let’s get it on, sugar. Let’s get it on. We’re all sensitive people, so much to give, understand me sugar. Since we got to be here, let’s get it on.”

Catcalls rang out and everybody was moving in to watch my best friend make a spectacle of turning a girl, two years older, into jelly. But she was a cheerleader and loved attention, loved, even more, all eyes on her. I watched the guy she was with start to heat up and Cam became her poll; if you know what I mean. She was now behind him running her hands over his chest, up under his shirt, and when she cupped his crotch for a minute the place erupted.

I pulled my phone as he went for broke. “And giving yourself to me can never be wrong if the love is true, let’s get it on.” OK. Just fuck me into next week.

From your Author:

The boys sleep in the Jack room, I play in the sitting room, and they can hear. It’s been two months now; I’ve done, this, every night. The back part of the house is my bedroom, the sitting room is behind pocket doors, and is as big as a large living room. It holds the fireplace, my keyboard, and the door to the bathroom with my boys’ room on the other side. I play and sing. My boys! It used to be my boys, kids I helped raise with their mom. Not the same boys today.

Most everybody was moving to the sex-beat and some were attempting a little dirty dancing of their own. When it ended Cam did praying hands, bowing to the cheerleader, then he reached for and kissed her hand. In turn, she kissed his cheeks causing him to turn red then walked back to the lug she came with. Yeah, we’re gonna get our asses severely kicked.

It didn’t happen; a star was born that night. The next day in school things were different. It wasn’t just how most were acting towards Cam; he had changed in so many ways overnight. He didn’t walk; it was a strut; like ‘Saturday Night Fever’ strut. Upperclassmen would nod, smile, and step aside as I rode on the wings of my best friend realizing I still do.

I have no idea why I sucked him off the other day, I knew it could change everything. I was sure he’d be ok with it, but still. We had unspoken lines that were never crossed like, intimate touching, that would include sucking the others cock. Kissing was out of the question, and we didn’t talk when the other was doing their thing. I broke every fuckin rule.

It was when I thought about telling my Dad I got kicked out of school that my brain went into hyperdrive. When it came to Cameron Jones, it was guilt by relation. My Dad hated Cam’s Dad. He was everything my dad wasn’t and more. My dad is a laborer, didn’t finish high school and never went to college, and likes to blame anybody and everybody for his situation. And he wears that hat like others would bear a cross.

Cam’s Dad is a successful, a very successful, Architect, who started small and grew because he was good, really good. He had done a drawing for an addition to a school nearby and my dad was part of the crew who was doing the work and just so happened; Cam’s Dad doubled as the general.

From the story my dad told; he was a prick and the guys all walked leaving him hanging. The real story was my dad was drunk on the job and when Cam’s called him out on it some of the guys grumbled; his Dad canned the whole crew on the spot.

I woke up this morning thinking about the things I said to my best friend wondering how to fix this. It was all on me and Cam didn’t deserve my words out of fear my dad would hear I might be a fudge packer or cocksucker. I had sat most of the night with my phone composing texts trying to apologize for the hurtful accusations I’d made.

The only text I had was from Cass, “Someone outed Chip.” Fuck.

I was glad I still had two days before school started again for me and wondered what today would be like for Chip. I remembered back to when Cass said Chip liked me. The thought of other guys or another guy liking me had honestly had never crossed my mind. What Cam and I’d been doing wasn’t gay, I didn’t see it that way and sure as hell didn’t see, us as gay.

I had enough time this morning to really think about all kinds of shit. Cam had a line of girls he could have fucked and I could have had his leftovers; why didn’t he have a girl? Why didn’t I? Did I even want one? Had Cam and I been filling the need required a girl? Was the way we got off something a girl couldn’t provide? Did we fill the emotional need a girlfriend provides? After thinking, the only answer was, Yes, yes, and yes!

From that first night at the club when Cam did what he did we were there every week after. The guy at the door would say to his radio, ‘Cameron’s in the house.’ I never knew who he was talking to. And every week for the last two years we left together. How long would a guy turn down ass so his friend didn’t look like one and go home alone? Two years, I guess. And guess what we did when we got home?

I wondered why that was? It was like I’d been poked in the ear by a needle. ‘Open your fuckin eyes, Nathan.’ Yes, I knew Cameron Jones loved me. I saw it in his eyes and had for years. I told him I knew yesterday and admitted I loved him. He mouthed ‘It’s ok.’ And I felt like the biggest horses’ ass.

The things I said to him. It’s not like I saw Cam with his own personal glory hole, taking cock after cock, honing the skill that only practice provides, and let me be his payoff. How could I have said that to my best friend who was able to love me like he did? I am less than dirt. I have to talk to him face to face.

I stood outside the door for probably five minutes; what the hell was I going to say to him? Their front door wasn’t a key; it was a pad. It’s not like I hadn’t seen it over his shoulder a hundred times. I felt sorry for Cam. Almost every day he walked into an empty house. Where my house was always full of yelling; his, was quiet and he would wake up to, the sound of silence.

I punched the numbers hoping he hadn’t set the alarm looking to my right when the door opened confirming he hadn’t. It was like his voice came from everywhere. Cameron. I walked in looking for him; living room to the left then the dining room and kitchen to the right. His Dad’s office and then the great room ahead.

Cam had headphones on and all I could hear was him. Someone should just poke my gay eyes out; he should have bleached them the other day. Yes, today was ‘something different’ but. His back was to me and I recognized the pants he was wearing. My fuckin favorites. I have no idea how many times you need to wash a pair of 501’s but, the backside of this pair should have been on a calendar.

“We’ve only just begun to live.” 

There was a hole in the corner of the right pocket where he put his wallet.

“White lace and promises, a kiss for luck and we’re on our way; we’ve only just begun.”

The three inches under the back pockets were worn and showed skin; he couldn’t wear them at school but it was the front that was the dress Codebreaker. Like a guy who carries a can of chew in his back pocket; Cam had a worn spot to the right of the buttons that was where his shaft spread out.

When I listened to the words I knew,‘Before the rising sun, Nate, we fly”He was singing to me not knowing I was here. I’m gonna fuckin cry.

“So… many roads to choose, dude? We started out walking then learned to run. We’ve only just begun, Nathan,”And I am not a fuckin ball baby.

He moved with his back to me in those pants whose life I was willing to end today; shredding them to death pulling them from his body. “Sharing horizons that are new to us, looking for signs along the way, Nate. Talking it over just the two of us; working together day to day. And when the evening comes you smile knowing me. So much love you have; so much we have to give, we’ve only just begun.”And I started backing away.

This was something he wanted me to know but wasn’t ready to tell me and honestly, I have no idea how I’ll respond if he ever does. And all I can think about is his pants, his skin showing in the wife-beater he wore.

“And when the evening comes, Nate, we’ll smile. So… much of life ahead, you and I will find a place where there’s room to grow; we’ve only just begun.”

Now I don’t know if because you only love one guy, only want your best friend, does that make you gay? I don’t know if because I don’t look at the front of guys pants hoping for a shape or size, don’t check out asses as they go by, does that make me straight? I don’t know if the fact I could care less whether I have a girlfriend or not. I do know; it would bother me if Cam did.

I paced back and forth; it was Tuesday, karaoke night. Cam did something every week and as others attempted the crowd would chant his name. It always made me proud and a smile came to my face when it happened. I knew he’d be here tonight and when the guy pulled me out of line I had no idea why.

“Where’s your friend,” he asked and I told him I thought he was inside.

“He’s not here and if he doesn’t get here soon, there’s gonna be a riot.” And he let go of my arm to walk through the door.

The difference between all the others who attempted to sound like Bieber, Jlo, studio stuff that can’t be done live; Cam didn’t reach for something he knew was unreachable. He’d been doing this for two years almost every week and most everybody came to see what he would do tonight. There was a vibe in the house; probably because Cam was an hour late.

I was getting a Coke at the bar when the pop tender pushed on his ear then whistled to the guy on stage and nodded. He looked at me saying, “Your friend is here.” I looked around.

“He’s still outside. There he is.” He said nodding at the door.

Fuck me into next Thursday. Cam hadn’t changed from what he was wearing earlier today but now wore that hat I told him never to wear. In our little corner of the world, Cam had become a rock star. He did songs most of us had been forced to listen to, songs our parents, while holding us captive in the car, made us listen to the oldies. And he could nail every fuckin one of them with us knowing the words.

He didn’t look through the book and I realized he hadn’t done that in a long time. He talked to the guy for a minute with his back to me and I saw he was carrying his phone in his back pocket. That was new. Now I don’t need glasses but I could see skin showing through the broken stitches under his back pockets. I watched him work the room and I tried hiding behind people.

Watching him I realized something else; I was usually next to him. I followed him with my eyes around the room and as his smile lit up he did what I think he was made to do. It was now commonplace that a lot of kids from our school showed up on K night.

From your Author:

I am glad to see my readers getting along and I will say, thank you, to Big D, for another installment in his Tyler series; it’s only been two and a half months. I try to stay a few chapters ahead of my readers and want to give you stuff in a timely manner so you don’t have to go back ten or twelve weeks to catch up.

I posted a chapter a few days ago and now you are reading the next knowing; RJC won’t make me wait. I feel a loyalty to my readers and vowed never to do what others do; make you wait. I’ve found an avenue to introduce music to what I write this time and I hope you like the numbers I have chosen for this series. Enjoy. RJC.