Читать книгу Eight Inches - Sean Wolfe Fay - Страница 18

“You’re never gonna make it out there,” his father said softly. He took another swig of his beer, and belched loudly.

“I think I will,” Justin said. He looked directly into his father’s eyes, careful not to look away and to keep his voice even and tremor-less. He couldn’t afford to show weakness right now. His father had had several beers already and was as vulnerable as he would ever be. The fact that he hadn’t already thrown the beer can at Justin’s head was proof of that. Now was the time for him to stand strong. “This might just be my ticket,” he said as he held up the envelope with the UCLA insignia.

Mr. Bennett pushed his glasses down on his nose and peered over them at his son, in a move that Justin recognized at once. It was the glance that was meant to intimidate him and to silence him and to get him to agree with his father with no questions asked. And for most of his life it had worked. But not anymore. Justin was not the same little boy who had cringed at the slightest raise of his father’s voice or who cried when his father slapped him across the face. Those days were long behind him, and he knew that his father knew it as well. He could see it in the old man’s eyes as he looked Justin up and down. But even more, he could hear it in his defeated voice as it got more and more quiet with his threats, and as he backed down easier and easier with each passing month.

“Your ticket to what?” the elder Bennett asked with a sneer.

“The real world.”

His father laughed, and spit out a mouthful of beer as he choked. When he regained his composure, he glared at his son with contempt. For just a few seconds, Justin saw his old father, the one who slapped and beat him regularly and who kept him living in fear. His heart beat a little faster, but he struggled to match his father’s stare and stretched his shoulders backward to stand taller and stronger.

“If you think that’s the real world”—his father sneered as he looked away from Justin—“then you’re a bigger idiot than I thought. This is the real world, Justin.” He waved his arm drunkenly around the living room.

Justin followed his father’s arm and looked at the room around him. Two of the bulbs in the three-way lamp were burned out, but it still provided enough light to take in the filth around him. A dirty bathrobe and an even dirtier pair of jeans lay tossed across the tattered sofa. There were two empty TV dinner trays strewn across the glass coffee tabletop with the crack that ran across the entire length, and a third still had the vegetables in their compartment, dried and browning even as he looked at them. Two cereal bowls serving as ashtrays overflowed and spilled onto the stained carpet. The 19-inch television was powered by a set of rabbit ear antennae wrapped in aluminum foil, and rested on a compressed wood shelf atop several cinder blocks that had been spray painted red and black to match the Spanish design on the cheap sofa and matching recliner in which his father now sat.

“Not mine,” Justin said quietly.

“What the hell did you say?” his father asked, and leaned forward in his chair as he tried to look as if he weren’t intentionally flexing his biceps.

It was another of the moves that had been designed to manipulate and frighten him into submitting to every will and whim of his father, and that had worked quite well up until that very moment.

“I said”—Justin raised his voice and took a step forward—“it’s not my reality.” He noticed his father flinch and hunch backward slightly. As much as he wanted to revel in the delight of seeing his father back down and frightened of him, he couldn’t. A part of him still expected the old man to stand up and deck him, as he’d done so many times in the past. A part of him was still afraid. But he couldn’t show that part. “This is my ticket out of this hell, and there’s not a damned thing you can do about it.”

He slapped his father across the face with the envelope before he could stop himself. His heart beat fast and his knees threatened to give out on him. When they didn’t, he backed away from his father and never took his eyes off of the old man. When he reached the stairs, he turned around and walked up them quickly and directly to his room.

“Dude, what the fuck happened?”

Justin looked at his best friend and prayed he wouldn’t break out in tears. “Just drive,” he said. He looked behind him and saw the shadow of his father behind the curtains, walking toward the door. “Now. Just go!”

Dusty gunned the accelerator and grinned as the tires squealed just before jetting the Camaro forward.

Justin kept looking out the back window until his best friend made a quick left turn and then a right and another left a couple blocks away. When he was certain his father was not following them, he turned around and stared straight out the passenger window.

“You okay, man?” Dusty asked as he slowed the car down and took a deep breath. “What’s goin’ on?”

“I don’t know what came over me, dude,” Justin said. He continued to stare out the window, and turned the envelope over and over in his hands. “I told him that this was my ticket out of this hellhole of a town and that I wasn’t gonna waste my chance.”

“What’s so wrong with that?”

“I slapped the old man across the face with the envelope.”

“It’s not like the bastard didn’t deserve it. It couldn’t have hurt more than his ego.”

Justin turned and looked at his friend. “I haven’t opened it yet.”

“What?”

“I couldn’t do it, man. I have no idea what it says.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“No.”

“What if you didn’t get in, Justin? It was a really slim shot to begin with, you know that.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Dude, you played your trump card with the slap. If you didn’t get in, you’re fucked. You can’t go back to that asshole and continue living with him.”

“I know that, Dusty. Fuck! You’re not helping anything here, you know.”

“I’m sorry. Sorry, man.” Dusty pulled into the parking lot of their favorite bar. “You gotta read it, Justin. You have to know what to expect.”

“I can’t. You should feel my heart, dude. It’s about to fuckin’ explode in my chest.”

“Then I’ll read it. But we both need a beer to deal with this shit. Let’s go.”

The two friends ordered their beers, and sat at the bar. It wasn’t until their fourth Michelob that Justin finally pushed the envelope toward his friend.

“You sure, man?” Dusty asked as he opened the envelope.

“No. But I have to know sooner or later. Just read it.”

Dusty pulled the letter from the envelope and read it to himself. Justin watched him carefully, trying to read his expression, but couldn’t get a clue. Finally, Dusty folded the letter slowly, and slid it back into the envelope.

“Fuck, dude,” he said as he took another big swig of his beer. “I don’t know what you’re going to do…”

Justin took a deep breath and lowered his head.

“…without me. Because I’m gonna be slaving away in Philly while you’re living the high life in Los Angeles.”

“What?”

“You’re in, man. They’re offering you a half scholarship for the first two years. After that, if you prove yourself on the field and keep your grades decent, they’ll pick up the other half of your first two years, and then sail you through on a full scholarship for the rest of your time at UCLA. Fuck, dude!!”

Justin looked up just in time to catch his friend as Dusty flung himself into his arms.

“You made it, Justin. You’re outta here!”

Justin held his breath and hugged his friend as he struggled to remain on the barstool. After a couple of minutes, he helped Dusty back into his own seat, and accepted a round on the house from the female bartender that Dusty had been trying to lay for the past year. When he finished his fifth bottle, Justin excused himself and stumbled to the restroom.

The door barely closed behind him before he felt the tears building up behind his sinuses. He’d taken such a risk with standing up to his father like he had earlier. What if the letter had begun with, “The Board of Regents regrets to inform you,” instead of, “is happy to inform you”? What if his father had been drunk enough to stand up to him? Would he have had the guts to hold his ground, and if so, would that have resulted in one of them being seriously hurt? What if his dream of a better life was flushed down the toilet with the opening of that one little letter?

Justin walked to the urinal, pulled his cock out, and leaned against the wall in front of him as he pissed. Before he knew it was coming, he began to cry. It started as a silent sob, but within a few second, he was crying openly, and struggled to keep his piss stream inside the urinal.

“Dude, are you okay?”

Justin turned around and looked at his best friend. He tried to wipe his tears, but ended up crying even harder.

Dusty walked over and hugged Justin, pulling him close to his body. “It’s all right, man. You’re gonna be getting away. You’re gonna be free.”

Justin felt himself collapse into his friend’s embrace, and hugged him back. After just a few seconds, he felt his cock harden in between them. He panicked, and tried to pull himself away, but Dusty pulled him even tighter against him. He struggled weakly for a few seconds, and then froze in place when he felt Dusty reach down and squeeze his cock.

“What the fuck are you…”

Dusty pushed him back a couple of steps, and dropped to his knees.

Justin looked down at his friend and wondered if he was dreaming, or perhaps hallucinating. He didn’t have a big dick by any stretch of the imagination—a little less than six inches at full mast, and no more than average thickness. He’d seen several more that were much bigger in the locker room at school, but had never given it much thought. He never had any complaints from the chicks he fucked.

But Dusty’s face was only a couple of inches from his throbbing cock, and he was staring at it as if he were afraid it would bite him at any moment. He looked to Justin like he was frightened and about to piss his pants.

Justin was about to ask him again what the fuck he thought he was doing, when his best friend licked his lips and then leaned forward and sucked the head of his cock into his mouth. His head spun as the wet heat of Dusty’s mouth enveloped his cock head and sucked the first couple of inches inside. He was confused, and with five beers in his bloodstream, he should not have been able to get hard at all. But it was hard, and throbbing and his friend’s clumsy sucking was making it harder with every passing second.

“Fuck, man,” he moaned as he thrust his cock another inch deeper into Dusty’s mouth.

His friend gagged and spit as he pulled his mouth off Justin’s cock. But then he took a deep breath and grabbed the cock roughly and shoved it back into his mouth. He groaned loudly and choked a couple more times as he stubbornly attacked the dick.

Dusty would never win a cocksucker award, Justin thought. He was rough and noisy and awkward. His teeth scraped the skin of Justin’s rod a couple of times, but not enough to hurt, and so he let him continue. At this point, the whole scene was turning him on more than he’d ever imagined, and he didn’t dare say or do anything that might jolt his friend back to reality and cause him to remove his warm, wet mouth from his hard cock. He’d never thought about another dude sucking his dick, and certainly not his best friend, but the sight of his cock sliding into Dusty’s mouth was turning him on.

“Suck my dick, dude,” he moaned, and thrust his cock all the way inside the wet tunnel.

Dusty wrapped his index finger and thumb around the base of Justin’s cock and squeezed as he sucked his friend’s rod. He bobbed his head up and down the length of it, ignoring the gag reflex that caused him to cough and spit around it and trudging along courageously.

“You like suckin’ my dick, don’t you?” Justin said, as he grabbed the back of Dusty’s head and pulled it deeper onto his cock. When his friend moaned his response, Justin smiled and thrust his cock in and out of the mouth slowly at first, and then a little more rigorously.

In just a couple of minutes, Justin felt his knees begin to shake and knew that he was getting close. He started to warn Dusty, and then changed his mind. Instead he tightened his grip on the back of his friend’s head and after a couple more bobs on his cock, pulled the mouth tight against his pubes. He moaned loudly as his legs quivered and threatened to collapse on him. He felt his cock thicken inside Dusty’s mouth, and a second later bright pins of light exploded behind his eyes as he emptied himself in his buddy’s mouth.

Dusty gagged and coughed, and struggled against Justin’s grip. But Justin held on tight for a few sprays of his load, and only let go of Dusty’s head when he felt the panicked mouth and teeth bite down on his still-throbbing cock.

“Fuck, dude,” Dusty yelled as he fell backward onto his ass, and scooted a couple of steps away from Justin. “Why the fuck did you do that?” He spit out a mouthful of cum, and wiped his mouth frantically.

“What do you mean?” Justin said. “You can’t tell me you didn’t know that was gonna be the end result.”

“Not in my mouth, man. Fuck! That’s gross, dude.”

“Shut up, faggot. You wanted it.”

“No, I didn’t,” Dusty said defensively, and spit into the sink. “You could have cum all over the floor, asshole.”

“Hell, no. I can do that at home by myself,” Justin said as he pulled up his jeans. “It’s not every day your best bud sucks your cock.”

“That’s just not right,” Dusty said weakly. He pulled his cock out of his jeans and waved it in front of Justin. “Your turn.”

“Fuck, no!”

“Come on, man. It’s only fair.”

“Fuck that, dude,” Justin said, and stepped backward. “I didn’t ask you to do that. You wanted it.”

“Please,” Dusty pleaded. “Just suck it. I’m already close. It won’t take long.”

“No way. But I’ll beat you off if you want.”

Dusty looked down at his cock. Justin could see the wheels spinning in his friend’s head. He could tell the way Dusty’s cock was bouncing up and down that he was close. And he could see the frustration in his red face. He knew what the answer would be.

“Okay,” Dusty said, and scooted closer to Justin, and wrapped his arm around his friend’s waist.

Justin wrapped his fist around his buddy’s cock and squeezed it softly. He’d seen Dusty’s naked cock in the shower and locker room at school, but it had always been soft, and so he was surprised at how long and thick it was now. Even more surprised was he at the tingle of electricity that ran through his body as he felt the heat of the hard cock as he slid his hand up and down the length of it. His own cock began to strum to life again, and he was glad for the safety of his jeans.

“Oh, God, man,” Dusty moaned. “That feels fuckin’ incredible.”

Justin tightened his grip on the cock and began to stroke it faster. He was afraid someone would walk in, and now that he’d already cum, he wasn’t as invested in the whole process as he’d been earlier.

“Here I cum, dude,” Dusty said hoarsely. “Get on your knees.”

“No way…”

Dusty grabbed Justin by the shoulders and pushed him roughly to the ground. A second later, he pointed his cock at his buddy’s face and sprayed his load all over him.

“Fuck, du…” Justin started to protest, but stopped midsentence when a large load of Dusty’s spunk landed on his tongue. He pushed himself away from Dusty’s exploding cock, and stumbled to his feet. He wanted to go off on his friend, tell him that what he’d done was fucked up and that he was going to kick his ass. But he couldn’t take his eyes off the thick cock that was still spraying out thick streams of jizz all over the floor and sink.

“Man, that was hot,” Dusty whispered as he shook the last of his load to the floor and stuffed his shrinking cock back into his jeans.

“That was sick, man,” Justin said softly and without looking into his friend’s eyes. “You didn’t have to cum on my face.”

“Shut up, faggot,” Dusty taunted. “You know you wanted it.”