The Watermelon Patch

Spencer lifted the thirty-five to forty-pound watermelon, its dark green skin dull with its ripeness, and he carried it to his old Dodge pickup, sitting in the strip between the vines. He handed it up to Elliot, who was stacking them neatly in the bed. Coming up beside him was Mason, his older brother, setting another melon on the tailgate.

“Damn, its hot,” Mason uttered, wiping an arm across his brow.

“It’s summertime,” Spencer responded, laughing at his brother. Neither were used to toiling away in the summer heat, both accustomed to sitting in air conditioned cabs of tractors or the combine, while they worked one field or another. But each year, during some of the hottest days of summer, they had to gather the melons their grandfather was determined to grow. There wasn’t much money in them, not when one considered the labor involved, each one hand carried from the vine to a waiting pickup. But no one was willing to argue the point, so each year Mason and he had to harvest them.

Heading back to the row of vines, with large dark green spheres scattered along the gently sloping hillside, Spencer saw Baxter carrying a large one to Mason’s truck. It was a Chevy that was practically new, compared to his Dodge and Baxter’s old Ford. It was only three years old when Mason purchased it last fall. He watched Baxter easily carry the large melon, one of the largest, probably fifty pounds. He saw the muscular upper body with its tanned skin glistening wetly in the sun. He had had a crush on Baxter since he was fourteen, and for the following four years, had daydreamed of Baxter returning his affections. He fantasized of them dating like a girl and boy, going to the prom together, of late nights parked on a fire lane or down one of the dirt roads, kissing, fondling each other, then having sex.

Diverting his eyes for the hundredth time, Spencer walked out among the tangled vines to the next melon that was dull in color. Trying hard not to think of it, it was proving impossible with Baxter helping them again. His family was poor, and Mason considered it his duty to hire him whenever they had a need for help. The day before they had carried two truckloads to area stores that anchored one small community or another. Today, they would take one load to their father at the farmer’s market to replenish his table, and the other would be taken to an Aunt’s home who lived on Highway 89. They would park in the edge of the yard, selling them to passing motorists. The highway was the main thoroughfare through the community, and therefore the most traffic.

Spencer broke the stem then reached his long arms around the melon, lifting it to carry to his truck. He walked carefully through the vines, avoiding stepping on any, as he made his way. He looked over at Baxter, feeling his desires and longings grow more intense. Baxter was twenty, the same as Mason, and had a muscular lean build that he struggled not to be caught staring at. Dark brown hair, a tanned skin tone and if close enough, he would be able to see the dark brown eyes and the shadow of a beard around the chin and along the jaw. He had compared Baxter to Mason and himself. A body that fit between them. Mason was five foot eight and stocky in build, much like their father, and he was six foot one, and lean to the point he considered himself skinny, and their differences didn’t end there. Mason had dark hair and fair skin like their father, while he had light brown hair that had been blonde as a child, and his skin tone was slightly tan, with freckles over his cheeks, much like their mother. He even had her vivid blue eyes, where Mason had their dad’s green eyes. And Mason fit between them, somewhere around five foot ten, something he knew all too well, after having stood next to him often, doing the comparisons.

As he approached his truck, its white paint dull in the bright sunlight, he looked at Elliot, someone new to them. He was a mystery, for he didn’t talk much, even blushing at times at crude remarks by Mason or Baxter. Spencer knew by the way he dressed and acted, Elliot came from a religious family, some sect that was strict. Compared to Baxter being shirtless, Mason having on a t-shirt with the sides ripped out of it and he in a t-shirt that was stretched and worn till the neck and hem was frayed, Elliot appeared dressed up. A white dress shirt and khaki pants that didn’t have one tear in them. Both knees intact and the shirt buttoned all the way up, leaving only the button at the collar free, he looked like one of those missionary boys that rode bicycles. Something Mason and Baxter had not felled to joke about when Elliot wasn’t around.

He watched Elliot move to the tailgate, holding out his hands for the melon to stack it in the bed of the truck. A hot breeze blew over them and he saw the shirt sleeves tighten around arms that were like his own, long and lean, unlike Mason and Baxter’s that bulged with muscle.

“Thanks,” Spencer uttered as Elliot took the heavy melon.

“No problem,” Elliot replied, swinging around to stack it with the others.

Elliot piqued his curiosity until he took measure of the physical nature of him. Elliot was Baxter’s height, but lean, and obviously not accustomed to manual labor. The day before they had to bring him water, after getting sick from becoming overheated. His face had been red, with sweat pouring down it and soaking his shirt. Spencer considered the usual aspects: reddish brown hair, cut short, and there was the fair skin, what was visible, and green eyes that struggled to look at you, diverting to the ground often. Then there was the guy’s background, and how their mother, who had pushed them to hire Elliot, had been vague on it. He was living with an Aunt in town, having moved from Twin Falls, Idaho last week. Spencer found it odd that someone his age would be moving in with an Aunt and Uncle just a few weeks after graduation, and knew something bad must have happened. At first, he assumed something happened to Elliot’s parents, but Elliot had made casual mention of them, and his two sisters, back in Twin Falls, but nothing about why he had come to live with his Aunt and Uncle.

Heading back to the vines, Spencer admitted to himself how he thought Elliot was attractive, with his boyish features and skin that looked soft and smooth, more like a girls than any of the guys he knew, who let sparse beards try to grow in, or were tanned from being outdoors all the time. And it didn’t bother him about Elliot’s shyness, but there was something that seemed like a barrier, some deliberate attempt by him to avoid getting close to anyone.

Melon in hand, Spencer turned to head to the truck when he noticed Elliot looking toward Mason’s truck. Mason was handing a melon up to Baxter who was now in the bed. He saw Elliot look toward them for a few seconds then turn around and pretend to straighten melons, and he wondered if there was more to Spencer he had yet to find out, for there had been a few seconds he thought he recognized the look on Elliot’s face; one of longing. He could be wrong, but he felt sure he was right.

Spencer eased his old Dodge out of the field, its 4 x 4 suspension causing it to bounce over the rough ground even at a low speed. Following the silver Chevy with Mason and Baxter in it, they eased out to the highway, Mason going right toward the farmer’s market in town and he left toward their Aunt’s place. Elliot sat quietly as he fumbled around with the radio till, he got it on the station desired, rock music coming from the speakers mounted in the doors, and the base behind the seat.

“You like this song?” Spencer asked as he tapped at the steering wheel in beat with it.

“What? Oh, huh...I’ve never heard it before.”

“Seriously?”

Elliot nodded his head, then looked away, and Spencer sensed the embarrassment.

“Elliot, can I ask you something?”

Elliot looked around and nodded his head.

“Where you grew up, back in Idaho, right? Was your family kind of strict? Religious?”

“Yes,” Elliot replied, his voice so low Spencer barely heard him.

“That must have been tough,” Spencer uttered in a low voice, not sure he wanted Elliot to hear him.

“Yes.”

The simple reply said so much more, for Spencer heard the tone of it. There was a defeated feel to it.

Where Hill Crest Road intersected Highway 89, Spencer turned right, and accelerated back to speed, slowly, easing through the gears. His Aunt’s house was only a couple of miles ahead. He had been disappointed Mason took the trip to the farmer’s market, but not surprised. It was inside a building, out of the sun, and even though it was unconditioned, there were fans to stir the hot air and keep the gnats and flies at bay. Of course, Mason and Baxter chose to go there, leaving Elliot and him to do the roadside sale of melons. They would be under the shade of pine that grew in the front yard, but it wasn’t perfect shade, and they would have to fan gnats and flies from their sweating faces. He dreaded it, the sitting on the side of the road for hours while he begged every car that approached to stop. He wanted to sell the melons and get back home to the air conditioning and a shower to get clean.

“Do you guys grow melons every year?” asked Elliot as Spencer slowed to turn.

“Yep, every damn year,” Spencer replied as he glanced over to Elliot seeing the eyebrows arc upward at his reply. “Granddad is adamant about growing them, even though dad said there is no real profit to be made. So, he plants them and tends to them till they are ready to harvest, then Mason and I get stuck with them.”

“I see.”

“Do you like doing this?”

“No…not really.”

“Yeah, it sucks. How did you get roped into it?” Spencer asked as he pulled into the yard then backed up till the truck was near the ditch.

“My Aunt knows your mother, from church, and she thought it would be good for me to get out and do something, earn a little money for myself.”

“Your parents…do they not send you some spending money?”

“No.”

Spencer decided not to pursue it as he shut off the engine and swung his door open.

“Okay, Elliot, time to sell melons.”

Tailgate down and watermelons neatly stacked each side of the truck, with a few scattered on the slope of the ditch, Spencer reached for another in the bed of the truck. Spencer cut it, placing half to where passing motorists could see the dark red flesh, then cut the other half down the middle. He handed one piece to Elliot then hopped on the tailgate next to him. He took bites out of the sweet flesh, until it dripped down his chin.

“These are good watermelons,” said Elliot and Spencer saw red juice trickling down his chin and the arm holding the slice.

“Yes, they are,” Spencer replied.

Gnats began to hover around their faces, and they laid the rinds against the side of the bed and began to fan them away, as they watched the passing traffic.  A pulp wood truck, Mr. Mitchell in his tractor with the cultivator on back, Mrs. Wiggins in her old Cadillac and numerous vehicles Spencer didn’t recognize. A minivan braked as it passed, pulled off on the shoulder and once a truck passed, turned around and came back. It pulled into the drive and parked.

“Our first customer.”

As was typical, it took the first person stopping to trigger others to do the same. At one point, the boys had three trucks on the shoulder of the road and a Volvo wagon in the drive. They sold one or two melons to each one, and to one man, they sold six. By the time it got to be one o’clock, the bed of the truck was nearly empty, and Spencer was hoping they would soon be able to head home.

Elliot, as shy as he was, still managed to converse with customers, occasionally smiling at some comment, as he loaded their melons and took the payment. Spencer moved melons from against the cab down near the tailgate and placed more on the ground, to keep the area around the truck looking like there were a lot of choices for customers.

Back on the tailgate, a lull in traffic, they sat fanning gnats as stomachs growled with hunger.

“I hope we sell these soon. I’m hungry and ready to get out of this heat.”

“Me too,” Elliot agreed.

Mrs. Simpson pulled up, easing her Grand Cherokee onto the shoulder, and Spencer jumped down to meet her.

“Mrs. Simpson, how are you, today?”

“I’m fine. I trust you are. How’s the family?”

“They’re good.”

“Your brother not helping?”

“Mason? He’s at the farmer’s market with dad.”

“I see. So, who is the young man with you? I’ve not seen him before?”

“Oh, that is Elliot. He’s Mrs. Lockwood’s nephew. Do you know her?”

“I know of her. She lives in town, right?”

“Yes, mam.”

“So, Spencer, pick me out a couple of the smaller melons. I can’t eat those big ones.”

“How about these two; is this a good size for you?”

“Yes, those look good.”

Money in his pocket and melons set in the footwells of the rear seat, Spencer watched Mrs. Simpson ease back on the highway and pull away. Sweat trickled down his face, and he fanned at the gnats tormenting him, as he scanned the ground then the bed of the truck to see how many melons they had left. Moving toward the tailgate where Elliot sat, he pulled the tail of his t-shirt up, stretching it until he could wipe his face. When he let it go, he saw Elliot turn his head, looking away quickly and he wondered, hoped even, he had caught Elliot looking at him.

Fanning gnats while watching passing traffic, Spencer kept glancing over at Elliot. He looked at the profile of the boy, with his chin jutting out, the long neck with the prominent Adam’s apple, the slightly upturned nose and the ears slightly too large, similar to his own, one more thing he didn’t like about himself, but looking at Elliot, they were not a detraction from his overall appearance. He was cute, a word he heard boys use to describe girls, and he considered the nature of the description. Handsome seemed too formal, insinuated a more masculine appearance, something Elliot did not have.

“Elliot?”

“Yes?”

“Are you going to college this fall?”

“I was, but my acceptance has been rescinded.”

“What? Why?”

“It is the college supported by the church and after what happened, and my parents feeling obligated to report it, they…” Elliot’s voice trailed off, and Spencer heard the wavering tone.

“You want to tell me what happened?”

Elliot shook his head and looked away.

“It can’t be that bad. I mean, Jesus, what could you possibly do that made a college do that. Mason went joyriding in dad’s truck when he was fourteen and totaled it on Cold Water Creek bridge. Boy, did he get in trouble for that. And I, well, in ninth grade I filled a boy’s locker with fish heads to pay him back for bullying me. He kept calling me…”

“It’s not the same,” Elliot interrupted.

“Oh…okay.”

Spencer let the silence settle between them. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt it was the best thing, instead of continuing to push Elliot to talk to him. Before he was just curious, but now he felt concern toward him, and didn’t want to make him more upset. A combine with a corn header cruised by, Joey Blackwell waving from inside the cab. Behind it was a line of four trucks, waiting on Joey to pull off the road when the shoulder was clear, so they could pass.

As they watched the combine pull off the road letting the trucks ease around it, Elliot began to talk. Spencer knew not to look around, but to let Elliot say what he wanted.

“I was having trouble in the church, not keeping up with my lessons and just not able to do the things they asked of us. I felt like it was trying to make me someone I’m not, and…I had read some things, stuff that contradicted what the church was teaching and knew I agreed with it, and not the church. Mom found the books and made me take them to the church and publicly denounce them. I did it, but…but...I didn’t really believe what I was saying.

“Last winter, I was home alone, everyone gone to Boise to visit someone from the church who was in the hospital. They were getting some cancer treatment that was supposedly better than what could be had in Twin Falls. I thought they would be gone longer. It had been two weeks since…since…I just wanted…”

Elliot sat silent for so long, Spencer began to think he had gotten all he was going to about why Elliot had been forced to move. He looked from the corner of his eye as Elliot sat back, bringing feet up on the tailgate enabling him to wrap arms around knees, folding up to become small. Less significant. 

“They came back sooner than I anticipated and caught me and…I was so scared. The way dad yelled and condemned me and mom going on and on about what a sin I had committed. I watched dad throw some of my things into a duffel bag and knew he meant to make me leave.

“My Aunt happened to make her weekly call to mom. They’re sisters and were really close as young girls, but that changed when mom married dad. My Aunt Maddie doesn’t say it, but I know she doesn’t like dad or the church. It’s one reason she left Idaho. Mom got her parents to attend the church and Aunt Maddie packed up and left. Well, she had a plane ticket waiting on me at the airport and had me fly to Montgomery. I’d never been on a plane before and almost missed my connecting flight in Denver, but when I finally made it to Montgomery, she was there waiting for me.”

“What did you do?” Spencer asked, keeping his voice to barely above a whisper.

Elliot shook his head as he wiped his eyes.

“What did your Aunt have to say?”

“She told me I had done nothing wrong.”

“So, you shouldn’t feel guilty, right?”

“I guess. But my parents won’t have anything to do with me.”

“What are you going to do about college?”

“My aunt has made calls, some contacts she has with the universities in the state. I can start at Auburn in the fall, a basic curriculum. It may take me longer, but I’ll at least get in somewhere and started on a degree.”

“You’re going to Auburn in the fall?” Spencer asked, smiling.

“Yes. Why?”

“Me too.”

“Really? I assumed you’d farm like your brother.”

“Are you kidding me? I don’t won’t to do this. It’s not that I hate it, but Mason loves it and the farm isn’t big enough for both of us to come in with dad. And I want to study wildlife sciences.”

“That sounds nice.”

“What do you want to major in?”

“Nursing.”

“That will be a good field. Always need nurses.”

“I hope so.”

A familiar Chevy truck pulled down in the ditch, easing up as close as possible. The passenger window went down, and Baxter leaned out.

“You guys having fun?”

“Loads,” Spencer replied, jumping down to stand next to the truck. “What’s up?”

“Your mom sent lunch to Elliot and you,” Baxter replied, holding up a tray covered in aluminum foil. Spencer took it, handing it off to Elliot then took the next one being held out.

“Did mom send something to drink?”

“Oh yeah. Here,” Baxter replied, holding out a small cooler Spencer knew would have iced down sweet tea.

“We’ve sold most of the melons and hope to head home soon.”

Mason leaned over, smiling.

“What? What did dad say?” Spencer asked, knowing it wasn’t good.

“He said to tell you, if you sold the load by three, to go back for another one, that he wanted you to catch the traffic around five.”

“Shit.”

Baxter and Mason laughed, then Baxter leaned out, “don’t worry, we’ve got to go for another load too and take it into town to the two grocery stores.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to sit in the fucking heat fanning gnats.”

Baxter and Mason laughed as they pulled away. Spencer hopped onto the tailgate with his tray, looking over at Elliot’s with fried chicken, mac and cheese, green beans and biscuit. His mouth watered as he uncovered his own revealing the same.

“Your mom can really cook,” said Elliot around a mouthful of mac and cheese.

“Yes, she can,” Spencer replied as he lifted a leg and took a bite out of it.

At two forty, Elliot loaded the last three melons into a SUV while Spencer took their money, then counted out their change. The large Suburban pulled back out on the road and motored away as Spencer stood in the ditch looking at the empty ground and truck bed.

“Well, fuck me.”

“What?” Elliot replied, looking shocked.

“We’ll have to go back for another load.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Get in and let’s go. The faster we get them loaded the faster we can get back and hopefully sell them.”

Spencer drove the old Dodge with authority, accelerating from each stop, shifting through the gears. At Hill Crest Road, he turned right, bringing the old truck back to speed. Glancing over, he saw Elliot holding a hand in front of the air conditioning vent letting the cool air blow through his fingers. They came upon the lane to the field, but Spencer didn’t slow.

“Isn’t that our turn?” Elliot asked.

“Yep, but there is a store up the road. I could use a cold drink, and I’m sure you could too.”

“Yes, I am thirsty.”

A mile up the road, where Pine Bluff Road teed into Hill Crest, a small general store sat right in the intersection, leaving little room for parking in front. Spencer pulled past the store and parked on the far side next to two other trucks he recognized. The Miller boy’s beat to shit Chevy, and Mr. Bryson’s new F-250.

Elliot followed Spencer into the store, down the first aisle to reach-in coolers containing water, sodas, fruit drinks and beer. Spencer had spoken to Mr. Peterson, the owner, and Mr. Bryson, but the Miller boy, Tyler, Taylor or something like that, wasn’t at the front. He reached in and pulled out a soda, then looked back at Elliot.

“What do you want?”

“The same.”

Handing Elliot the drink in hand, Spencer reached in for another, then led Elliot back to the front, pulling out his wallet as he went.

“Just the two drinks,” said Spencer, holding out his drink.

“That will be three eighty-four,” Mr. Peterson replied after ringing it up.

Holding out four ones, Spencer noticed the Miller boy coming around from the far side. He was fifteen, too young to be driving by himself, but everyone knew his father didn’t care, letting him drive all over the county. He was a skinny boy, always looking like he had been rolling around on the ground. Even now, the t-shirt he wore, what was left of it, the side ripped out till it barely covered his chest and back, was dirty and frayed around the neck. But not nearly as frayed as the old jeans he wore. Both knees blown out, and one pocket hanging loose, white boxers visible through the hole.

“Hey Spencer,” the Miller boy said as he set a quart of oil on the counter.

“Hey. Your truck leaking oil?” Spencer asked, nodding toward it.

“Hell, the damn thing uses more oil than gas. How much Mr. Peterson?”

Spencer glanced over at Elliot and saw him looking at the boy, sizing him up. Eyes moved down the lean body, and how much of the torso was exposed. When Elliot realized Spencer was watching him, he turned and headed out the door without a word.

Change in hand, Spencer headed out as he heard Mr. Peterson ask for eight dollars and fifty-four cents. Elliot was already in the truck, and he climbed in behind the wheel.

“I swear I don’t know how that boy gets away with it,” said Spencer as he started the engine.

“Gets away with what?”

“Underage driving. He’s only fifteen.”

“Really?”

“Yep,” Spencer replied, and he saw the change in expression, the realization of the boy’s age, so much younger than them at this stage of their lives. But he also saw what he wanted to see; this appraisal of another boy, some longing for them.

Back in the watermelon patch, pulled down past where they had gathered melons that morning, they climbed down and headed out to the nearest dark green spheres laying in the sun. Spencer showed which were ripe and the two of them carried melon after melon up to his truck, sitting the first few on the tailgate, then the others on the ground. They would neatly stack them later once they had a bunch gathered.

The sun beat down on them hotter than it had been that morning and soon both were sweating profusely, their shirts clinging to their bodies. Spencer set a melon down and went to the cab of the truck, opening the door. He glanced back at Elliot to see if he was watching, then he tugged his t-shirt over his head and tossed the wet thing on the seat. Immediately he felt a cooling of his skin where the slight breeze helped with evaporation. It wasn’t much, the sun now heating up his exposed skin, but it was cooler than with the shirt on. Looking up as he headed out, he saw Elliot looking his way, stumbling once, and he suppressed the desire to laugh.

For a few minutes, they crossed paths, going back and forth from the truck, but after stacking up six more, and heading back out, he saw Elliot standing over a large melon, looking at it as if he wasn’t sure about it.

“It looks ripe from here,” Spencer called out.

“Are you sure?” Elliot asked.

Spencer angled over to him and stood by his side. He saw the eyes cut over and without thinking, ran a hand down his sweaty chest and stomach. He saw those eyes follow it, every inch of the way down, and he fought the urge to try something, to reach out and touch him, or tell Elliot he could do it, or move closer till his bare torso pressed against Elliot.

“It’s ripe. You want me to get it?” said Spencer, looking down at the melon, knowing it was at least fifty pounds.

“I’ll get it,” Elliot replied, squatting down to lift it up.

Spencer saw Elliot struggle to lift it and breathed out heavily once standing. Spencer saw how red in the face he had become. He was getting too hot again.

“Wait for me at the truck. We’ll see how many we have by stacking them in the bed.”

“But I’m sure this isn’t enough,” Elliot replied, his voice sounding breathless.

“We should grab some water before pulling more. It’s in the cab, go ahead and grab some. I’ll be right behind you.”

“Okay.”

“And Elliot?”

“Yes?”

“Ditch the shirt; it’s too hot out here. That cotton shirt is just trapping heat.”

“But…” Elliot stammered, wide eyed.

“It’s just the two of us, right?”

“Yes.”

“You’re about to stroke out. We won’t be out much longer so you shouldn’t burn. There some spray sunscreen in the cab. Use it after pulling off that wet shirt.”

“Okay,” Elliot replied, but he sounded like he wasn’t convinced.

 Spencer walked toward the truck, his arms wrapped around another large melon, as he watched Elliot move to the cab, look his way then turned back around. He could tell Elliot was undoing the shirt, one button at a time, slowly, taking far too long. Finally, the shirt fell open and Elliot slipped it off the shoulders letting it slide down his long arms. A fair skinned back came into view, the waist narrow. Shoulder blades moved as Elliot gathered up the shirt, opened the driver’s door and laid it on the seat. He leaned in, arms reaching across to the small cooler. Spencer knew the bottled water would be in tepid water by now, the ice long ago melted.

When Elliot stood straight, facing Spencer as he set down the melon, he raised his arm to take a long drink of water. Spencer looked at him, the lean torso, the arm angled up revealing the dark hair in the pit. He saw how the khaki pants hug low on the hips, gapped around that narrow waist and all he could imagine was slipping fingers down in them. He moved to Elliot, heart racing with his desire.

“Hand me one of those, will ya?”

“Sure,” Elliot replied, reaching back into the truck.

Spencer could see Elliot’s small round ass as the khaki pants tightened with his stretch to reach the cooler. When Elliot stood, holding out a water, he let his fingers brush against Elliot’s, seeking any contact. He saw Elliot flinch, then slowly pull away. He saw those blue eyes looking at him, down below his face, and he knew where they were staring. He raked his hand up his stomach to his chest and saw them following it. He turned the bottle up and drank long swallows, till it was half gone then lowered his arm to see Elliot’s eyes were still on him. He held the bottle over his head and let the remaining water cascade over it, down his torso till it was wetting his jeans.

“Fuck, its hot,” Spencer uttered, wanting to use that word, to say it aloud and see Elliot’s response.

“Yeah…it’s hot.” Elliot turned even redder in the face, flushed with embarrassment.

Spencer looked at the lean chest, and how sweat trickled down the middle of it. He didn’t really think about what he was doing. No consideration of what could happen if he had been wrong about Elliot in any way. He reached out and rubbed the back of his fingers up Elliot’s chest, raking them through the sweat.

“You’re burning up,” Spencer whispered as he kept his fingers in contact, even when Elliot pulled back a little. He noticed it was half-hearted, the way Elliot pulled away, then he felt the firm contact afforded him as he ran his fingers up to the base of the neck. Now he knew, and as he cupped Elliot’s chin, he moved to him until their bare chests were pressed together. “You want me to stop?” he whispered as he moved closer, so close he could see the light freckles over Elliot’s cheeks, the areas he had beard growth around the chin and the lack of any sideburns. He saw the blue eyes darting back and forth, nervous with his advancements. Then he saw the lips moving.

“No.” Whisper quiet and spoken breathlessly.

“Do you like me?”

“I…I…”

“I like you.”

“You do?”

Spencer leaned closer till his lips touched Elliot’s. He felt the slight flinching away, then a gentle push back. He pushed Elliot against the open door, rubbing his body against him. He kissed along the jaw, feeling the smooth skin against his lips. Moving to the ear, he kissed the lobe, tongued it, then whispered, “Please don’t make me stop.”

Spencer reached between them, undoing his own jeans, then stepped back to tug them off along with his boxers. Stripped, he tossed everything over the side of the truck bed and moved toward Elliot, whose eyes stared at him with a longing he recognized. He was half hard, cock beginning to angle outward, as he reached for Elliot’s pants. “Get them off,” he exclaimed, excitedly, as he fumbled with the button, then zipper. Elliot didn’t try to stop him, let him pull the khaki’s open and grab ahold of the waistband. He stripped him, pulling everything down. Tapping Elliot on the leg, “lift your foot,” he whispered and worked the khaki pants and boxers off each foot, as Elliot raised them. He flung the garments over the side of the truck bed with his own and reached up, taking Elliot’s hardening cock. He circled fingers around it and the sac, pulling outward as the cock thickened. He leaned forward and licked the head, making Elliot gasp, then he slid his lips over it and pushed forward taking every inch.

Elliot began to harden all the way. Inside Spencer’s mouth, the slick feel of it, the soft warmth, and how it enveloped every inch, made Elliot gasp and shudder. He filled Spencer’s mouth, growing longer, thicker, until Spencer couldn’t take all of it.

Spencer pulled back and worked his tongue over the head. He pushed forward and took what he could of Elliot, this his first cock. His first time to fulfill fantasies of so many nights, of longings he didn’t think he could endure much longer. That he no longer had to. On his knees, naked, the sun hot against his bare skin, he took Elliot, every inch he could handle, and he kept moving his mouth back and forth until hands held his shoulders for support.

Elliot cried out, guttural, shaking as his release surge from deep within. He pushed forward, gagging Spencer, unable to hold back, and filled the suctioning mouth. He jerked and pushed forward with every ejaculation until he was spent.

Looking down, Elliot watched his cock slide free of Spencer’s mouth. A hand held his still hard cock while a tongue licked the head, burrowed into the slit, while the hand milked the last of his cum out.

When Spencer stood, grinning wickedly, Elliot smiled back. It had been a long time since he felt like this. He backed to the open cab, climbed up in the seat, legs dangling out.

“Do me,” Elliot asked, his tone pleading. “Put it in me.”

Spencer didn’t think Elliot would want to go this far. He assumed it would be pushing him too much. Such an intimate act; wouldn’t it be more than Elliot would want to do? But he saw the longing and heard the pleading tone when Elliot asked to be penetrated, to have his cock put inside of him. He moved to the open door, let Elliot’s legs rest on his shoulders, as images of boys fucking online came to him, this very scenario and he tried to calm himself, to not rush into it, knowing he had to enter Elliot slowly.

He moved up closer, holding Elliot in an upright position, thighs pressing against his chest with legs over his shoulders. He kissed him, then pushed him to lie back. He fingered his tight hole, bore into it with one finger, then two and finally three, twisting and fucking them through the tightness until he felt it loosen. Then he put his achingly hard cock against Elliot, and pushed through the tight opening, feeling it milk his cock as he pushed every inch inside of him.

 Spencer held the legs to his chest and fucked slowly, feeling every inch slide into Elliot. He felt the heat of Elliot’s body around his cock, the soft cocooning of it when buried inside of him. He tugged outward and shoved back in, increasing his pace, until hips smacked against ass.

“Fuck me, fuck me harder,” Elliot pleaded, and Spencer registered through the fog of his mind, it was the first time he had heard Elliot use the word. It spurned him on, pushed him to fuck with all his strength. Sweat poured down his torso and he felt the heat within his own body, feverish, burning up, hotter than the sun that was on his back. Looking down he saw Elliot was just as hot, skin glistening wetly, and he ran a hand up the undulating stomach and over the chest, feeling the heat of the flesh.

“I’m…going to cum,” Spencer uttered, tripping on his words, as he felt his release. He shuddered, then jammed cock into Elliot’s depths as he came. He shivered with every ejaculation until exhausted and spent. Then he lay over Elliot, kissing the wet skin of his chest. “Elliot?” he uttered breathlessly.

“Yes?”

“Thanks for being with me. You’re not going to regret it, are you?” Spencer whispered, as he lay his head on Elliot’s chest, feeling the way it moved up and down with every breath.

“No. You want regret doing it with me, will you?”

“No, of course not.”

They stood facing each other, naked, cocks flaccid, grinning like fools. They held a bottle of water over their heads and watched the other shiver as the cool water cascaded down their sweaty bodies. They laughed and once the bottles were empty, Spencer pulled Elliot to him, and they kissed.

“We really should get dressed and those melons loaded before that brother of mine comes driving up to see what is taking so long.”

Elliot laughed, joyfully, then nodded his head, “I think you’re right.”

They loaded the melons, stacking them neatly from the cab back to the tailgate, Spencer standing on the bumper with Elliot handing up the last few. Back in the cab, shirts still off, sweat trickling down chests, Spencer drove them back to the road. The air conditioner was pushed to the coldest setting, blasting out of the vents, making goosebumps rise on their skin.

Spencer noticed Elliot was acting more open, smiling more; even his posture was more relaxed. He heard him humming to the song playing over the radio and found himself tapping the top of the steering wheel and humming along himself. He drove slowly along the highway, the old Dodge floating on its suspension, as they gave each other smiling looks. He wanted to renew some contact with Elliot, to continue with this connection between them. Reaching over he brushed his hand over Elliot’s bare chest and saw him lean back letting him. He raked his hand over the harden nipple, and over the ridiculously soft, smooth skin. He pinched the nipple making Elliot cry out and swat his hand away, while laughing uncontrollably.

“You like that; admit it?” said Spencer.

“Yes,” Elliot replied, leaning against the door, looking back. The left knee was brough up on the seat, spreading his legs as he raked a hand down his own chest and stomach. “You can touch me.”

Elliot knew what he meant, and he reached over, running a hand up the thigh, feeling the wet fabric till his fingers were digging into the crotch, feeling the expanding cock within. “I wish we didn’t have to go back,” he whispered as he felt the growing cock fill his hand.

“Me, too.”

The truck was back into position at the yard’s edge, with tailgate down. Watermelons were stacked either side of the bed and lay scattered on the bank of the ditch, so passing motorists could not fail to see them. Spencer and Elliot sat on the tailgate, shirts back on, fanning away the gnats.

There were a few stops, each buying one or two melons, followed by a slow spell, traffic light, but they knew it would get heavier just before day’s end.

“You want to tell me what happened?” Spencer asked, not looking over, instead looking down at the ground.

“I think you can guess, by now. Mom caught me with another boy, and…”

“Everything went to shit?”

“Yes; that is one way to put it.”

“Was he…important? Someone special to you?”

“I had thought so, until he told everyone I had seduced him. I had lured him to do it, making me out to be the bad guy.”

“Let me guess. He initiated it but was more afraid of admitting it.”

“Yes. At first, I sympathized with him, but when he stood in front of the church and publicly blamed me. Of course, I was at my Aunt’s house by then, but the good news of Thomas’ confession and asking for forgiveness from the church traveled quickly back to me,” Elliot replied, his tone growing sarcastic. “In the end, I couldn’t do it. I could not give them this confession of wrongdoing, they sought. So, I’m a ward of my Aunt and Uncle until fall.”

“Your parents don’t have anything to do with you?”

“Nope; nothing. Mom and my aunt barely talk anymore. I knew there were issues between them, and this seems to have brought it all to the forefront. I’ve not only ruined by relationship with my parents but that between two sisters.”

“You can’t say that. It’s not your fault.”

“That is what my aunt says, telling me I’m the innocent one. But…”

“But nothing. She’s right.”

“What about you? Does your family know? Your brother?”

“No, and I see where you’re heading. But I’ve never had to deal with it. There had never been anyone before.”

“I’m your first?”

“Yep.”

Spencer looked up in time to see Mason approaching, his truck slowing down, then easing off the road down into the ditch, stopping just below them. Baxter was still with him, lowering the window.

“Hey, you guys got set back up,” said Mason, leaning over Baxter. “Do you need anything?”

“More water, and a candy bar for each of us,” Spencer replied, jumping down and stepping up to the truck.

“Why are you so wet?” asked Baxter.

“We poured a bottle of water over our heads when we got the melons gathered up. If you hadn’t noticed, its ninety-five fucking degrees out here.”

“OH, I’ve noticed. We’ve been sweating like pigs too. Your brother is so ripe over there someone needs to pick him already,” Baxter joked, and Spencer saw Mason smack his knee.

“Look who’s talking,” said Mason, then looking up to Spencer, “we’ll run to the store and get it. Be back in a few minutes.”

Spencer stepped back and watched them pull up, swing around and head back up the road. Looking back, he saw Elliot on the tailgate, legs swinging in a carefree manner and he found himself more attracted to him than he could have imagined.

“Do you think something is going on between Baxter and your brother?” asked Elliot as Spencer hopped up on the tailgate.

“What? No. Mason have sex with a guy? That is funny. No, he’s dating this girl in town and I think it is really serious. And Baxter…that goof, is too easy going, carefree to be able to hide anything like his sexual preferences. He let it slip a couple of years ago he went out with an African-American girl. Boy, were some nasty about it.”

“Were you and your brother?”

“No! Mason told him to keep dating her if he liked her. Well, what he said was ‘fuck ‘em and do what you want’ or something like that,” Spencer replied, grinning at the memory of his brother’s reaction. “She ended up dumping Baxter. I feel sorry for him. He’s from a poor family and works like a dog to support himself and help support them.”

“So, they’re just really close friends.”

“The closest. I’ve heard Mason talk of expanding the farm until he would need help, and of course, dad and I knew who that help would be.”

“Is he going to do it: expand the farm?”

“Don’t say anything in front of Baxter, but he’s already set to close on 340 acres over on Cypress Pond Road, and dad is looking to help by buying the old Eichner place down in Pineview.”

“That’s nice to hear; this support for someone.”

A Subaru wagon pulled onto the shoulder of the road, and Spencer hopped down, “time to sell some melons,” he uttered as he strolled down to the young couple coming his way.

A few minutes later, Mason and Baxter returned. Baxter tossed the bottled water out the window for Spencer to catch.

“And the candy?” asked Spencer.

“Mom called and we’re having a cookout, so no candy. She said to pack up by six-thirty and come home.”

“Okay.”

“And she said to take Elliot home to change clothes and bring him.”

Spencer suppressed the desire to smile, nodding his head, “okay.”

“We’ll see you back home,” said Mason as Baxter raised the window. The truck pulled back to the road and accelerated away, the rear wheels barking once as Mason floored it.

“Did you hear?” Spencer asked as he returned to his truck.

“Yes.”

“Do you need to call your aunt now?”

“Yes, I should give her a call. She might be planning something for dinner,” Elliot replied, pulling his cellphone out.

The grill was still smoking as the coals burned down, and in the screen porch the table sat under the rope lights hanging from the ceiling. It was nearly ten and the night finally began to cool as everyone sat around sated, pushed back from the table with plates of cleaned bones from bar-be-cue chicken, empty beer bottles, and dirtied utensils and napkins. The boys were not twenty-one, but if they were staying home, their dad allowed them one or two, an improper act that their mother frowned upon, but held her tongue. It loosened the mood, made for a hearty banter around the table, that had been surrounded by Spencer, his family, and their guests for the evening: Elliot and Baxter. When his mother stood to clean off the table, Elliot jumped up to help, making Spencer smile, knowing the protest he was going to face.

“Sit down, Elliot. You’ve been dealing with watermelons all day. I can handle a few plates,” she admonished, as she gestured toward his chair. Mason stood, motioning Baxter to follow.

“Let’s go play some games,” said Mason. Baxter followed him into the house.

“Elliot? Let’s go walk around. I’m tired of sitting,” said Spencer. Holding the screen door, Spencer let Elliot go out first, as his father began to help his mother clean off the table.

Spencer led Elliot across the rear yard, past his mom’s azaleas and daylilies, the swing that sat under a trellis and to the barn. The front door was open, revealing Mason’s truck backed into the dark interior, the front grill shiny in the security light. He knew without looking the bed would be full of watermelons for the next day’s deliveries to grocery stores.

They were talking about some things Mason had said, laughing at his dad’s response, as he led Elliot into the dark barn. He moved to the back of Mason’s truck, then turned on Elliot, pushing him against the fender. He kissed him as he intertwined their fingers, pushing each hand against the side of the truck. There was a temptation to do more. A desire for much more, as he pushed his body against him, letting him feel his aroused state. As he held their bodies together, he felt his cock grow erect.

“I knew there was something going on with you two,” Baxter exclaimed, causing Spencer to jump back from Elliot, both of them looking at Baxter, shocked at being caught.

“Baxter…what are you doing here?” Spencer stammered, as he moved between Baxter and Elliot.

“I came out here to drag the two of you in for some games. Mason and I wanted some competition. But it looks like you’re busy messing around,” Baxter replied, as he began to laugh.

Spencer relaxed a little and stepped closer to Baxter. “You want tell mom and dad, will you?”

“No, of course not, but I can’t promise I won’t tell Mason,” Baxter replied, giggling now.

“No, you can’t tell him…not yet anyway.”

“Tell me what? My brother is gay? Tell me something I don’t know,” said Mason stepping into the barn.

“Mason?”

“Spencer?” Mason replied mockingly. “If you two are through making out, let’s go play some games.”

“You’re not upset?”

“I was a couple of years ago when you drooled every time Baxter came into the room, but…hey, I get it. Not a lot of opportunities out here for a boy who likes boys.”

“You liked me?” Baxter asked, laughing even louder.

“NO…maybe, but…”

“It’s okay, and Elliot, I know your situation and…it’s cool. Okay?”

Elliot moved up next to Spencer, still looking a bit shocked, but he smiled at Mason, then Baxter. He looked at Spencer, blushing red, then nodded his head, “okay.”

Baxter threw an arm around Elliot’s neck and pulled him toward the door heading back to the house, asking him if Spencer was a bottom, making Elliot stammer.

Spencer fell in next to Mason as the two brothers headed out.

“Help me close the door. It may rain early in the morning,” asked Mason, and the two of them pulled the large doors together and secured them. They strolled across the yard, watching Baxter tease Elliot.

“He’s not going to let this go, is he?” asked Spencer.

“Not tonight, nope. You’re going to be teased mercilessly, I’m afraid.”

“Great.”

“Hey, you know he’s just joking around and does care about you, right?”

“I know.”

“He’s a goof, but…he’s the best friend I’ve ever had. If he was gay, I might have let him do you.”

“Ha-ha, very funny.”

“Come on, little brother, let’s get inside. And Spencer?”

“Yeah?”

“Later on, tonight, don’t let mom and dad hear anything coming from your room.”

“I’ll try,” Spencer replied, as sarcastically as Mason and Baxter had been earlier.

It was after midnight when Elliot found himself in Spencer’s room, the only upstairs bedroom, tucked under the low roof, the ceiling sloped along each side, with the bed at the window on the gabled end. They left Baxter and Mason downstairs and found themselves standing on opposite sides of the bed. They watched the other undress. First their shirts, then pants, and Elliot started to climb into bed in his boxers when he saw Spencer taking his off and tossing them with his other garments.

“You’re sleeping naked?”

“So are you; loose those shorts,” Spencer replied as he moved down on the bed, crawling across it until he was right in front of Elliot, looking up at him. “On second thought, let me,” he whispered, as he reached out and tugged the white boxers down, over the round ass and down hips until cock came into view. First the base of it, then inch after inch of its growing shaft until the head came into view. Spencer let the boxers drop down the long legs, and he reached out, taking each thigh as he angled his head to suck Elliot’s sac into his mouth. The large orbs were a struggle to get into it. He worked his tongue over them, then tugged on the sac causing Elliot to moan and his cock to thicken, grow longer, lifting off Spencer’s face as it hardened.

“Fuck,” Elliot whispered, breathlessly, and he stood shuddering, fist balled up, as Spencer let his sac slip free, then licked up along his cock, pushing it up against his abdomen. He watched the tongue glide upward, then lips slip over the head and he pushed forward, sinking inch after inch into the hot slick mouth. When the hands on his thighs moved up, cupping each ass cheek, he watched Spencer swallow his cock, nearly every inch, making his heart race in his chest. He closed his eyes, all senses reduced to touch. The touch of tongue on the head of his cock, lips sliding down its length, and fingers probing between his cheeks.

When a finger rubbed his tight opening, Elliot began to work his hips, swinging them back and forth. Forward, pushing cock deep into Spencer’s mouth, then back, sinking the finger into his hole. His breathing grew heavy and his arousal increased until he had to stop, or it’d be too late to do so. He pushed Spencer off his cock and guided him to roll over.

“Get on your back,” Elliot exclaimed, as he moved on the bed next to him in a simple sixty-nine position. He took Spencer’s growing erection as his own sank back into Spencer’s mouth. They toyed with each other, tonguing the heads and shafts, then dragging them over tightening sacs. They licked at the slits trying to bore the tip of their tongues into it, then slid lips down hard shafts.

Spencer buried his nose in Elliot’s pubic hair, capturing his scent. He kissed the soft skin above it as he felt Elliot’s tongue move over his sac and below it. A hand pushed him to spread his legs and he lifted his right knee, giving Elliot the access, he craved. Sliding his mouth over Elliot’s cock, he felt that tongue move below his sac, traveling to the place only he had touched. He shivered as the tongue raked over his opening.

Holding Elliot’s cock deep inside his mouth, Spencer shivered as he felt his opening licked, tongue raking over it wetly, then circling it. Elliot manipulated him till he was heaving for breath, his cock leaking with his arousal, and he leaned up, panting, “fuck me.”

Spencer had fantasized about it, had daydreams so lurid he had gotten an erection. He had laid in bed so many nights, stroking his cock while fingering himself, imagining it was Baxter, or one of the boys he had seen online, until he frustrated himself. But he also was anxious about it, worried it would hurt too much, that he might not be able to let a guy penetrate him. It was a fear born out of the snide comments of the boys in school, the crude references made in in cruel jest.

But with Elliot between his spread legs, holding them behind the knees spreading him open, he didn’t think of his anxieties or those fears. All he thought about was how Elliot had made him feel, stroking his desires until he was begging for it. Pleading with Elliot to stop teasing him, to not make him beg any more. He felt a touch, then the press against his wet hole, and he threw his head back, closed his eyes, focusing every ounce of his being on Elliot’s cock touching him. He wanted it so, he pushed with his hips and felt the cock stretch him open. He shuddered with the feel of it, the slight pain. But he wanted it, and he put his hands on Elliot’s thighs digging his fingers into the firm flesh, encouraging him to go deeper.

Elliot pushed, slowly, sinking inch after inch into him, and Spencer arched his back, pushing his body up. He shivered with the feel of thick cock boring into him, sinking deeper and deeper, until he had to bite his hand to keep from crying out. Then he felt the tug and push of a slow fuck.

It seemed an eternity, the time it took Elliot to increase his pace, to move with determination, driving cock into Spencer’s depths, over and over. He moved over Spencer, letting their bodies touch, rub against each other, as he pumped his hips. They kissed, nipped at flesh, and caressed sweating skin. The bed began to squeak, softly, the rhythm familiar in its primitive nature.

“Fuck me harder,” Spencer uttered.

Elliot rose to his knees, slipped his hands behind Spencer’s and lifted each leg. He moved forward, pushing each leg until thighs pressed against chest. He had Spencer folded over, ass up, and he began to fuck as Spencer wanted. So hard, hips smacked against ass, and his pace increased, hips pumping furiously. Sweat trickled down his body and rained down on Spencer.

Arms thrown out across the bed, hands grasping at the sheet, Spencer gave himself to Elliot. With eyes closed, he focused on the feel of Elliot’s body pressing down on the back of his legs, pushing him down into the mattress, and the cock that piston inside of him, so fast he didn’t think of it as pushing in or pulling out, but only of the sawing motion through his loosened opening.

“Fuck,” Spencer uttered, stifling his desire to cry out louder.

Elliot began to jam hips against his ass, harder, hammering cock into his depths. Then Elliot raised up, his body tight with strained muscles and skin glistening wetly, and he began to shudder.

“Elliot,” Spencer uttered in a low voice, knowing he was coming.

Then Elliot was moving on Spencer. Eyes glassed over, moving with a physicality that frightened Spencer at first. His cock was bobbing up and down, still hard, cum still pooling in the slit, he straddled him. Spencer watched as Elliot held his cock up and eased down on it, not stopping until seated on his abdomen.

“Fuck…Elliot.”

“Spencer,” Elliot uttered, and he began to move, up and down, faster and faster, until the bed began to squeak and rock beneath them. Leaking cock smacked against Spencer’s stomach, as his own cock was stroked with Elliot’s tight hole. Faster and faster, Elliot moved on Spencer. After only a few minutes, Spencer cried out, unable to hold back, and he filled Elliot with his cum.

The smell of sausage and bacon cooking and the brewing coffee filled the kitchen and breakfast nook. Six plates were arranged around the table and mugs for coffee sat on the counter of the island. Already seated were Mason and Baxter, sipping coffee as their mother cooked the eggs. Their father was outside, reading the newspaper, waiting on their call to come eat. Spencer and Elliot came down the stair and entered the room, saying good morning as they grinned from ear to ear.

At the table, Spencer saw the looks first, freezing for a second as he stood next to his chair. Mason and Baxter were grinning at the two of them, shaking their heads. Spencer eased down, with Elliot next to him, and Baxter on the other side. As Mason shook his head, Baxter leaned over, voice a low whisper, stifling a desire to laugh, “you noisy fuckers better be careful. We could hear the bed squeaking for half the damn night.” Mason snorted, trying not to laugh and Baxter patted Elliot on the shoulder, leaning closer, right to his ear, “nasty fuck.”

“What are you boys laughing about,” their mother asked, looking from the range.

“Nothing,” four voices replied in unison.