Monday, May 09, 2005

Small Town Boys - Chapter 2, Part 1

Chapter 2 is rather long, so I've broken it into several sections.


He’d had his first sexual experience when he was fifteen. He and his best friend Craig were at one of the old abandoned limestone quarries that dotted the farm fields of northwestern Ohio on a hot and sticky afternoon in the middle of July. They had gone there, as they had nearly every summer afternoon since they were ten, to fish for bluegills and swim in the cool water that bubbled up from the deep springs below. They took their Zebco rods and reels and used tired worms that they’d dug in Craig’s mother’s vegetable garden. After an hour of catching and releasing the small fish, they explored the field around the quarry, wading through the tall grass, their legs being whipped and scratched, flights of grasshoppers clattering their wings to get out of their way, until they came upon an old sheep shelter. It was a low structure, not much more than four feet high, open along one side and filled at one end with old dead bales of hay. Stalks of weeds and wild sunflowers towered over it. The wooden planks were weather-beaten to driftwood gray, and large gaps between them let the sunlight in to the dirt floor. Craig bent over and stooped inside, sat on the smooth dirt floor, leaned up against one of the old hay bales, and pulled out a battered pack of True Menthols. It was their cigarette of necessity, since it was the brand that Craig’s mother smoked.

They sat cross-legged and talked and smoked and laughed, told dirty jokes and talked about tits and pussy and poontang and fucking until Craig showed Donny that his dick was poking down the leg of his shorts. They giggled, which only made it poke out more. Craig dared Donny to touch it. After a moment’s hesitation, he did, much like someone touches an iron to see if it’s hot. Craig dared Donny to hold it, and Donny, feeling his own dick getting hard, reached over and took the end of it in his hand. The whole thing, said Craig, leaning back to push it out further, and Donny slid his hand down until he had it all in his fist. It was warm and hard. Craig slipped his shorts off and sat on them. Dare you to put it in your mouth, he said with a tremble in his voice.

It was like wrestling – grabbing, reaching, and exploring until Craig sighed, arched his back and shot off into the dirt. Donny watched in fascination – he’d never seen another boy ejaculate before. He felt himself getting close, too. Do it, whispered Craig, and Donny complied, shooting his stream into a hay bale.

They went skinny-dipping afterwards, running across the field to dive into the water, washing off the sweat and dirt and whatever was left on them. They dried off in the sun, then slowly walked home through the thick humid air. They didn’t talk.

That night, Donny went to bed and wondered what it meant that he liked what had happened in the sheep shelter. Did it mean he was a fag? No, he thought, I’m not. Fags fuck guys in the ass, and he and Craig had just beaten off. Guys do that all the time. He’d heard that from his friends who went to summer camp, and they weren’t fags. He turned over, tried to go to sleep, and found himself staring at the empty bed across the room. He thought about his brother Danny and tried to imagine what he was doing and thinking at that moment. Probably trying to get to sleep, too. He had left that morning for cadet camp, and it was the first time they had been apart in their lives.

They were identical twins. Donny was the oldest by five minutes, and all through their childhood they had gone through the usual ritual twins do, being called by the other’s name, confusing teachers, and occasionally dressing alike. But there were subtle differences. Donny had his father’s round face while Danny had the sharper chin of his mother. Donny was right handed, Danny was a lefty, and when they hit puberty, Donny grew more solid and bulkier while Danny stayed leaner, although they were equal in strength. When they played junior high football Danny was the quarterback and Donny was a tackle. In school they both did well, Donny doing well in English and history, Danny doing just as well in science and math. And then, last summer, Danny got interested in the military. He read lots books on the subject, he began collecting posters and memorabilia, got his hair cut to GI length, and took a course in riflery at the VFW. Last spring he asked his parents if he could enroll in the nearby military academy instead of going to the local high school. Part of the curriculum was a four-week cadet camp that started that morning.

Their parting had been quiet. Donny helped his brother carry his bags down to the Plymouth, and then said goodbye in the driveway. Danny looked grown-up in his blue cadet uniform, military cap, and shiny black shoes. Donny told him not to take any shit and gave his brother a powerful hug, which was returned. Gamely holding back his tears, he threw his twin a mock salute, and Danny, with the same effort, returned it. Their mother hugged them both, then the car pulled out of the driveway and down the street for the three-hour drive to the camp in Indiana. A couple of hours later Donny was hiking across the Lorenzen’s hayfield to the quarry with Craig.

He and Craig spent many afternoons at the quarry, and their explorations continued, sometimes achieving three or more climaxes each before going home exhausted and silent. Nothing was ever said. It was like a ritual – fishing, then smoking and sex in the sheep shelter. Once they were caught in a mid-afternoon thunderstorm. Craig had brought an old sleeping bag that they spread out between the bales, and they lay there naked as the rain came dripping through the splits in the roof, making a dark dotted line in the dust.

When August was over and school started, they stopped going to the quarry. They kept saying they should go back after school, but football practice lasted until dark and soon it was too cold in the evenings, and weekends were spent doing other things. Craig met a girl and started to spend time with her, and by Thanksgiving Donny stopped going by Craig’s house because whenever he was home he was either with her or talking about her. The quarry was gone.

Danny came home at Thanksgiving. He took off his uniform and changed into jeans and a sweater that first afternoon, but to Donny he still looked like a soldier with the short hair and serious face. That night, together in their room for the first time in months, Donny watched his twin as they undressed for bed.

“So what’s it like?” he asked.

Danny sat on his bed and pulled off his shoes, setting them neatly on the floor. “It’s good. I’m learning a lot, and the guys are terrific. It’s rough, but when you’re in the corps you work together and get through it.” Danny pulled off his sweater and stepped out of his jeans, folding them neatly. He glanced at Donny’s clothes, piled on the desk chair as usual. Donny noticed his brother had gained some muscle but was still lean and well defined. “It’s a good school,” he added. “You’d do well there.”

Donny shook his head. “I don’t think so. I’m not cut out for it.”

They got in their beds and Donny turned out the light.

“So what’s been happening here?” Danny asked in the dark.

“Not much. Same old shit.”

They talked quietly in the dark about school, friends, and other trivial stuff for a while, then lapsed into silence. Soon Danny was asleep, and Donny wondered if his brother felt as lonely as he did without him being around.

Chapter Guide



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