dontravis.com blog post #625
I hope you enjoyed the story of Buddy, the gray squirrel buddy of my childhood. It brought back a lot of memories.
This week, we’ll go with a purely fictional piece—or is is?
By Don Travis
“Hey, Lovestick, where you going?”
Larry Lovestock gritted his teeth and turned to Gil Robbins. Everyone thought it funny when Gil had corrupted Larry’s last name into “stick” from “stock.” Everyone except Larry Lovestock. To complicate matters, Gil was his best friend. Had been ever since the Robbins family moved to town last year and the two of them met in homeroom and later on the football field. They’d clicked right away.
But Gil was also his greatest tormentor, twisting his last name relentlessly. Wouldn’t have mattered a couple of years ago, but seniors in high school—at Trinity High, at least—always called one another by surnames. And it didn’t take long for everyone to follow their quarterback’s lead and call him Lovestick.
Now he faced his friend, or was it tormentor? Friendly tormentor? Tormentor friend? Didn’t really matter, once Gil smiled at him, Larry’s resentment melted away. “Heading home.”
“And do what?”
“Nothing. Just hang.
“Me too, so let’s hang and do homework.”
Seemed reasonable, so they went to the park and claimed a vacant picnic table, settling opposite one another on stone benches.
Gil threw him a lopsided grin. “Be the earliest I’ve got my homework done all year. Hope it doesn’t set a precedent for my mom. Wouldn’t wanta get a rep as an ‘early bird.’”
Early bird was locker room talk for a guy with no staying power, and Gil smirked at his double entendre, unconsciously preening a little as he did so. Larry felt a shiver play down his back, making him wonder once again why he reacted so physically to his buddy. A bead of sweat popped on his upper lip at that uncomfortable thought. Was there something wrong with him? Did… did Gil mean something by giving him that suggestive nickname? Could… could….
He swiped at his upper lip and drilled the page of his algebra book with a stare that ought to have burned a hole in it. Gil started bitching about one of the problems, and the world returned to normal.’
Larry looked forward to Friday night because he and Gil were double dating. They were taking their gals to see The Lion King. If past was precedent--or was it prologue?--they'd park out on the mesa and smooch for a while before heading home before curfew. Given the way his thoughts trended the other day, he wondered which meant more to him. Being with Gil—even if it meant sharing him with Marcie—or his own date with Helen Sweetwater. Everyone called her Sweet—because of her last name—but just to be different, he called her Water—because of her last name—to which she responded, “That was sweet.”
Gil picked Larry up in his snazzy maroon, ’ninety-five Chevy Baretta GT, and they headed out to collect the girls. Their dates always liked to sit beside one another in the movies, separating him from Gil so that they couldn’t talk much except by leaning across the girls for a pithy comment now and then.
Afterward, they headed for the mesa where Gil and Marcie proceeded to heat up the front seat while he did his best to boil Water in the back. To be honest, he kept glancing up front to see how Gil was doing… probably more than he should have. When the other couple disappeared from sight, he figured Gil was gonna score at last. That revved Larry up enough to give Water some quality attention.
Things were getting serious in the back seat until Marcie’s voice from the front said she had to get home. When called on to do so, Water agreed, although Larry thought she agreed a little reluctantly. Nonetheless, in short order, they headed back to town for the goodnight routine with the girls.
As soon as they pulled away after dropping their dates at home, Gil pounded the steering wheel in frustration.
“Stick, I was so close! She was feeling me up something crazy, then she just demanded to go home.”
“Probably to keep from giving in,” Larry said.
“How about you?” Gil asked, that loopy, crooked grin on his lips. “You close to scoring?”
He nodded, feeling like one of the guys. “This close.”
“Screw it, I gotta do something about it!” With that pronouncement, Gil headed back for the mesa. Soon they were parked in the same area, but this time without a girl in sight.
“Man, I gotta take care of this. You want me to get out of the car and give you some privacy?”
Larry shook his head while struggling to get the words out. “Naw. You just take care of what’s ailing you, okay?”
“You too!” Gil said, ripping open his Jeans. Before Larry could move, his buddy’s britches were down around his knees, and his love knob waived around in the air as if hunting for something.
Gil’s demand, freed Larry from his paralysis. He undid his slacks and slid them down.
“Man, that’s an awesome lovestick,” Gil said, gripping him briefly.
Larry about fainted from the touch, but Gil grasped himself and began working on his problem, so Larry followed suit. No one said a word for a good quarter-hour. Nothing but grunts and groans disturbed the night, until Gil let out a loud, heartfelt “Ahhhhhh!” A moment later, Larry expressed his own pleasure.
He felt awkward as he cleaned himself with a handkerchief, but Gil didn’t seem embarrassed at all. He chattered nonchalantly about the clandestine event as if it had no real meaning except as a means of relief.
When Larry went to bed that night, his head was full of misgivings. Especially when he physically reacted at recalling Gil’s hand on his manhood for one brief moment. Larry’s breath caught in his throat. Geez… was he one of those guys?
Well, is Larry learning something about himself? Wonder what next week brings.
Stay safe and stay strong.
Now my mantra: Keep on reading and keep on writing. You have something to say… so say it!
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See you next Thursday.
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