When we Cum Face to Face

This again is a collaboration between my Grandson and me. This picks up when we came home from Calder last Fourth of July; well two years ago. How time flies. 

Robby and I both got Covid in January, a year ago, we’ve sense recovered. But I have had some prolonged issues. I edited this before posting; really Texas???And all this white boy terrorism??? It has slowed things with posting.   

Why does this happen??? ‘Us sane people’ we can’t wrap our minds around something as horrific. Who could? What would drive an eighteen-year-old to kill a class of fourth graders??? And let’s not forget; he shot his grandma in the face???She will live; good or bad.

Back in the day President Clinton signed an Executive order banning the sale of assault weapons for ten years. President Bush let it expire. Think about that, he just let it expire; and I liked W.

I wrote a story that started with a school shooting, went on about survival, and the ramifications of something so… tragic. RJC.  

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To my surprise; like a huge-big-fuckin-surprise, a rock the size of a Volkswagen was in front of the gate; Grampy just smiled and calmly drove by pulling in the next drive. “Stay in the bus,” He told me. We were at Rory’s house.

This was my fault. I guess this is what a shit storm looks like? I saw them, Dan cuming out with Rory behind him glancing at me in the passenger’s seat.

Grampy motioned to my friend’s father who owns a large Construction Company. One large enough with the ability of depositing a huge rock, anywhere. After words, they did the bro handshake, pulling each other close, and he looked at me, smiling.

“Cum on guys; Dan will bring the bus back.” He told us. My brother was pissed because he had to walk more than fifty feet to his bed.

“Jr.?” He asked with a glass half full.

“I’m not setting you up! Would you like to have a ‘sleep-over’ with, Rory?” And he gave me those eyes. You would have to know him showing off the chocolate.

Wait? What? Ok. My head just blew up. I was in overload. OK! And melt down, at the same time. “What???” It was all I had. I needed a minute to think.

“His Dad knows. That big rock in front of the gate was his way of getting our attention. He’s always been so…fuckin…dramatic.” And Grampy smiled like it was funny.

My brain wasn’t firing on even one cylinder; not even half. Do people really do shit like this? Be all dramatic and dump a huge ass rock in front of his neighbor’s gate to make a point? I guess they do.

“Do you want to go to his house or would you rather him cum here? His Dad and I are ok, either way. We’ve known each other for a long time.” And he looked at his glass.

I was still trying to comprehend the whole ‘sleep-over-thing’. I’d never had one.

“When?” I asked. That is my second go-to word; hoping for more time. I didn’t get it.

“Whenever. His dad and I understand. This is not a push in any direction, no one will stand in judgement. I, on the other hand, have a few requests.” And he looked at me as I sat down.

“Robby, I love you more than life. If I had one wish, it would be, that you grow up, happy. You can’t tell, or show him, anything.”

I nodded smelling my pits and told him I needed a long shower. We both smiled. I think he knew what I needed more than a shower.  

When I was twelve, before Grampy saved us, I told my parents I didn’t think I liked girls. That’s a mouth full right there. Depending on your parents; it may be good or bad. Mine: flipped, the, fuck, out. You may have to go back to understand.

My mom took me to this house where I was put in the middle of a circle with shit on the floor. Then they tried to pray away the demon that must be possessing me. They surrounded me with bodies, hair swinging back and forth with chants; I went to my happy place as they chanted.

Grampy is like one of my first memories. He ran a wet maple leaf over my face and the thing I remembered most was the love in his eyes. I remember that at a year old.

He pushed my hand into cold water, ran his over my face. He is my happy place. We all should be so… lucky to have memories like that.

I am glad I can’t shoot fire from my eyes; although, I’ve never really tried to set something on fire before.

I started swaying, let them think I was feeding into it. I thanked them for praying the demon away and my sick incubator of a mother smiled so smugly. If need be, I could set her on fire, in a second. She along with my Dad happily sold my brother and me to, Grampy.

I got out of the long shower and admired myself in the mirror as I cleaned my toy. It was a record. I came three times in a row without going soft.

I stuck it to the shower wall and used my hips pumping my dick into the suction as I held my ass. I came so hard thinking all kinds of thoughts. Without breaking contact, I used it with my hands sitting on the seat using number one as lube for number two.

The third I was on the shower floor with water running over me as I used hands and hips fucking that toy for all it was worth.

I thought about it. My body moved as if I was making love, my hips the way they moved, using what was between my legs not understanding what was happening.

I was wondering if Rory would like what he sees and think my bruised shoulder was sexy after I told him the story.

Think about me thinking that?

Surprisingly, the front door was open with Grampy watching the lowboy, along with an excavator on the back lifting the huge rock on a trailer. I walked back to my room trading a towel for a new pair of online briefs that came well we were gone. Grampy knows, and kind of feeds into, the underwear fetish I have.    

I grabbed his top shelf shit, Fiddish-21, two glasses, and waited for him in the music room. He’s right; tastes like caramel. He walked in and spotted it right away, poured my shot in his glass before he even sat down. “I might have cleaned your little ass years ago; but put on your sleep pants or a robe, Jr. Glad you inherited the family curse; and how much did that underwear cost me?”

I smiled. What is it about our dicks? And how can he raddle off all that with one look???

“It’s not about how much they cost but, but how I feel wearing them; isn’t it, Gampy?” He shook his head.

“Is that your way of saying, a lot?” And I walked out nodding.

I came back in wearing sleep pants; without anything under; he’d given me half a finger and the key again. The doorbell rang and we both opened it. There stood Rory and his Dad, the bus still with lights on, both of them smiling. I know when I’m being looked up.

“Slick? You wanna put the Dragon to bed?” And I walked around them after his hand found my ass. It was funny.

Rory followed. He sat in the co-piolets seat across from me as I took control of the dragon going around to her lair. “I’ve driven all kinds of heavy equipment; but never anything like this.” He told me. I know when my dimples show.

We just looked at each other, him in wacky shorts without a shirt, me shirtless in my sleep pants. For the first time I could feel him trying to get in my head. I mentally smacked him so hard I watched him flinch.

His hand went to my shoulder; covered all the bruise, “That hurt!” he told me. His eyes were sad.

“You should have seen the other bull,” I told him. Now, that there again, was just fuckin funny. 

We went in the slider to the kitchen and saw Grampy along with Rory’s Dad laughing in the living room. “Did you put her to bed?” He asked.

“Yes. Rory spotted for me.” I smiled because I’d lied. This boy, don’t need, no…fuckin… spotter, forward or reverse.

Dan and Rory walked to the gate pushing the button as he knew, and Grampy stopped before walking around me to his shower. “They didn’t tell you how to hold it, did they???” And he walked by mumbling to himself.

We’re gonna jump ahead to May, of 22.

“Grampy, a Gray Hound is at the gate. It’s some guy with flaming red hair and a little dramatic about the whole thing.” He stood.

“It better not be,” he put on his holster vest; all he had on was that and sleep pants; “Stay in the house.” He told me as he marched to the gate.

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From your Author:

Some read to jackoff, I get it. Others want substance and that is what you just read. My Grandson and I are doing a collaboration. You need to read carefully to see the change and, who is writing what.

I would encourage all of you to go back and read, ‘Robby and Ryan’. Read about our lives and realize my Grandson has read it; he’s read all my stuff; fiction or non.    

This again is a collaboration between us. That be??? RJC?