Iíve been noticing a lot of smells lately.
Dennisí skin has a certain scent to it. It smells sort of salty, but not bad. And his skin smells different at different times. Of course, if heís been sweating, he smells different. But his skin has a whole different smell if heís been in the sun. And it has another scent all together after heís been swimming in the lake.
I like the smell of him.
And his cum has a smell, too. It smells like a farmerís field in the spring before the plants start coming up and just after it rains. Itís sort of an earthy smell.
His breath has an odor, too, after heís been blowing me and then he kisses me. But Iím starting to forget what that smells like because heís hasnít kissed me in a few days.
And thatís been bothering me.
But that night, I was into sucking his cock and loving the smell of his skin as I did. He was sucking my cock at the same time. Dennis told me it was a 69. It was totally sexy.
Iím kinda competitive too. When he sucked harder on my cock, I sucked harder on his. When he increased the rhythm on mine, I did the same on his.
The last round in this competition was to see who could hold off on cumming first. The winner was the one who could hold it the longest.
I lost. I came and came all over his chin. I groaned so loudly, Dennis had to tell me to be quiet.
"Finish me," he hissed as he pushed my head down in his crotch again. I hated this. Part of me was just lazy - I had already cum and I wanted to relax a bit. Part of me was just a little pissed off about being treated like that. He didnít even say please.
Thereís one more smell I forgot to describe to you. Itís the smell of a guy who is just about to cum. Well, at least Dennis is about to cum, he smells like this: kinda earthy and very sweaty. And his balls retract. Thatís how I could always tell he was cumming.
I always made sure to move my mouth away when he came.
"OH! OH!" he grunted. "Oh, yeah, Joe, that was good."
I leaned closer and puckered up.
Dennis pushed me away. "No way! Iím not going to kiss you now." He thrust German into my arms. "Here, kiss him."
See what I mean? Heís always got some sort of excuse. First, he started to complain about my breath. I brush my teeth! Hell, Iím in my cavity-prone years! I even started to use mouthwash. Still, he wouldnít kiss me.
At first, it upset me, but then I decided it wasnít a big deal. I mean, he was still having sex with me. So that counts for something. If he didnít like me or thought I was totally disgusting, heíd pack up and sleep in the loft. And he hasnít done that, yet.
We cleaned ourselves up and cuddled in bed. I love the feeling after sex when youíre just about ready to drop off to sleep. Dennis fell asleep first.
I couldnít sleep for a long time. Finally, I decided to get out of bed and listen to my Walkman for a bit. I donít have a Discman yet. Iím not sure Iím going to get one. Compact disks are the big thing. I listened to Joshís sisterís Discman and to tell you the truth, I wasnít too impressed. She asked something like, ĎDoesnít it sound like youíre right there in the studio?í And I thought, No not really.
I finally fell asleep listening to Blue Monday.
I woke up to rain the next morning. Dennis was already out of bed. Thatís unusual - Iím usually the first one up.
Dennis was sitting at the table eating a bowl of Wheaties.
Dad was giving him his standard lecture about finishing our chores if we wanted to go to the party. Dennis was nodding as he wolfed down the cereal.
I could hear his lecture as I approached the table. "Ö.and if you two want to go to the party, I want this place clean by the time I get back." I think this lecture is #142.
"Where are you going?" I asked as I rubbed my eyes.
"I just have to run some errands. I should be back in about an hour."
"We can do it," I put a hand on Dennisí shoulder.
He gave me a look I couldnít understand. It was sort of a cross between anger, disgust and exasperation.
Normally, we would have played with each other. In the past couple weeks, Dennis and I stole every minute we could to boink. Any time both my dad and Tad were out of the house, and most nights, we had our dicks out of our underwear and in some bodily orifice. Well, let me correct that. Dennis hasnít fucked me. Yet. And Iím not really sure if I want him to.
So, that rainy morning, instead of being couch potatoes or shutting our bedroom door for another cockfight, we did chores. How weird is that for a couple of fourteen-year-old guys?
We were determined to go to Troyís party, so we sucked up as if we were trying to suck a cow through a straw. And not just a regular straw, either. We were sucking a cow through a straw with a bend in it.
We cleared the table after breakfast and loaded the dishwasher without being asked. I vacuumed the whole living room and dining area and Dennis did a couple loads of laundry. We didnít talk much; instead we let the TV in the background fill in the silent gaps.
Dad did return in an hour, and he was amused. "Going for the Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval?" Dad grinned.
"Nope. But we want to go to Troyís party," Dennis answered.
"God, if I had known a party was such a motivator for you two, Iíd throw one for you two every week."
"Yeah!" Dennis exclaimed. Sometimes Dadís sarcasm goes right over his head.
The phone rang and Dad picked up the cordless phone. "Joe, itís Troy." He handed me the phone.
"So, are we still on for tonight?" He asked.
"Yeah, I think so. Wait, let me check," I covered the mouthpiece. "Dad? Can we still go?"
He smiled. "Yes, you can. As long as you behave yourselves."
I took my hand off the receiver. "Yes!"
"I heard your dad," Troy laughed on the other end of the phone. "I think I forgot to mention that it was a theme party."
"A theme party?"
"Yeah. Itís Back to the Eighties."
My mind started to race. "UmmÖwhat should we wear?"
"Try to come up with something from the eighties."
"But I was just a little kid back then. I canít remember."
"Ask your dad."
I rolled my eyes. "Who all is going to be there?"
"A bunch of kids. You wouldnít know most of them. But youíll like them."
"Are you sure you donít want us to bring something?"
"Just you. And your swimsuit if you want to swim. But if it keeps raining, nobody will be swimming. Maybe if you have any 80ís music, you can bring that. I have a CD player, too."
"Thanks, Troy. See you later."
When I hung up the phone, I wailed to dad. "Itís an eighties theme party! What am I going to wear?"
Dad threw his head back and laughed. He mocked me in a high voice, "Oh, whatever shall I wear?"
"Dad! This is serious! I donít want to be the only one not in costume."
Dad rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I might be able to dig up a few things."
"Donít worry about me," Dennis said. "I have something to wear."
I was surprised. "You do?"
"Thatís good," dad replied. "I wasnít sure I have enough eighties stuff for both of you." He smiled at me. "Did you bring any kind of button-down shirt?" Dad asked me.
"Go get it."
Dennis was in the bedroom changing into his costume. He had put on a pair of jeans and a blue T-shirt. He had rolled up the sleeves of the T-shirt, probably to display his tattoo better. He was sitting on the bed lacing a pair of black army boots.
"This is your costume?" I asked.
"Yeah. Whatís wrong with it?"
"Nothing. Where did this costume come from?"
"I used to wear it onÖwhenÖ." He struggled to finish the sentence.
He didnít have to. I knew where the outfit came from. He wore it when he was working. I had a million questions about that.
I sat on the edge of the bed. "Were you really aÖ"
Dennis snapped at me. "What the fuck do you think? That I would make something like that up?"
"I-I-I didnít meanÖ..I didnítÖ."
He put an arm around my shoulder. "Iím sorry."
"I didnít mean to hurt your feelings."
I licked my lips and decided to push my luck. "What was it like?"
"It was bitchiní. I had lots of money all the time. I could do what I wanted when I wanted. I had all sorts of regulars who gave me tips." But he didnít look happy or excited or like it was the best time of his life. He was bullshitting me. I knew it. He knew it.
What else was there for me to say? I got up from the bed with my white shirt. I opened the bedroom door, turned around to look at Dennis again. He was lacing up his boots again.
But now he had a big frown on his face.
In his bedroom, Dad was brushing off a blue jacket. It was double-breasted and looked like a suit jacket.
"Dad! I canít wear that!"
"Itís July. Hel-LO!"
"Oh, thereís no lining. Itís really lightweight. Try it on." It was pretty big for me. Dad continued talking. "Itís called an unconstructed jacket." He reached under the jacket. "It does have shoulder pads. Youíll look like a football player," he laughed as he adjusted the shoulder pads. "Good thing you have a short-sleeve shirt." He took my left arm by the wrist and pushed up the sleeve of the jacket almost to the elbow. "This is how we all wore them. With the sleeves pushed up."
He pulled a tie out of the closet. The silver tie was shiny and only about two inches wide at the bottom.
"Cool tie," I said. "What is it made out of?"
I fumbled with it. "I donít know how to tie it."
"I should have known. Your mom wouldnít know how to tie a tie. Come here." Dad turned me around so that I faced the full-length mirror on the back of the door, folded up my collar, and buttoned the top button. He looked over my shoulder into the mirror while he tied it. I like the feeling of pressure of his arms on my shoulders. I can smell his breath. It smells like coffee. "This was my favorite tie. I almost threw it out when I moved here. I wore it the first time I went into a gay bar."
His eyes met mine in the mirror for just a second. I could see in his eyes that he regretted telling me that. Talk to me, dad. What was it like? Were you scared? What happened? Did you dance? Did you drink? Did you just stand around? Did you go home with someone?
But I couldnít ask those questions. I couldnít ask my own dad about his past. How pitiful is that? I wanted to hear about my dadís past, not because I was nosey -- although I am really nosey -- but because it was like looking at my own future. Did he make mistakes? Did he have any regrets?
In the reflection, I see his eyes crinkle at the corners. "Turn around. You look very cute." He tucked a hankie in the breast pocket of the jacket. A smile spread over his face as his eyes scan me from head to toe. "Youíre getting so big." His hands stopped to perch on my shoulders. "Címere, son."
And then it happened. Dad hugged me. I could feel the scratchiness of his cheek against mine. Itís been more than a year since Dad has hugged me. He patted my back and started humming Catch A Falling Star.
And you know what I did? Itís really stupid. I almost started crying. I got all choked up and my eyes got wet.
Dad let me go. I wiped at the tears coming out of my eyes.
Dad gave me a playful little shake. "Hey! Cheer up. Youíre going to a party! Itíll be fun." He squinted his eyes. "Just stay away from the joy juice. And any other controlled substances."
He gave my butt a couple friendly pats. "Go, now."
As the day faded into night, the sky stayed overcast and the temperature dropped. It wasnít going to storm, but the rain continued.
Dennis and I were ready. I laughed at myself in the mirror. Dad even had a pair of boots he lent me. He called them Zodiac boots. I guess that was the brand name. They had pointy toes.
"I can kill bugs in corners with these things," I teased dad.
Dad drove us to Troyís. "Now, Iíll be back at ten to pick you up."
"Awww Dad! The party is going until 11."
Dad sighed. "Weíve discussed this. Iím coming for you two at ten. That is the time youíre leaving the party."
Dad used this voice like he was talking to a kindergarten class. "Because the later it gets, the wilder the party gets. I donít want you in a situation you arenít ready to deal with."
If he only knew. Dennis smirked at me.
"You treat me like a baby."
"Iím not even going to respond to that remark. Here," he said handing me the tape Substance by New Order. "Take care of this."
"What do I need this for?" I was still pissed off at him about picking us up at ten. If was just Dad and me in the car, I would have argued some more. But, Dennis was there. I had to maintain that façade.
"Itís the essential eighties party tape. Especially Blue Monday and Bizarre Love Triangle." He was trying to make it up to me. I knew it, but I wasnít going there.
I slammed the car door a little harder than necessary.
Troy laughed his ass off at my costume. "That is the best costume! Youíre gonna win the Best Costume prize even if I have to rig the votes."
"Thereís a prize?" This was news. I exchanged surprised looks with Dennis.
"Yeah, a $20 gift certificate."
The party was being held in the basement. It was pretty dim down there. Troy had replaced the regular light bulbs with colored ones. There were matching chairs, a loveseat and a huge couch covered in black leather. Music from A Flock of Seagulls blared from the speakers. A kid who looked like he was sixteen or seventeen was the DJ. Over in one corner, Troy had set up a wide-screen TV to play videos, although the sound was turned down. I recognized The Breakfast Club. I had a flashback of the last night with Josh on the couch. Everyone was down here, since the weather wasnít cooperating enough to swim in the pool.
"Let me introduce you around." He introduces us a to a number of girls all with names based on Elizabeth. There was Beth and Lizzie and Betsy. They were all dressed as Madonna wannabees, with big hair, fishnet stockings and underwear on the outside of their clothes. One girl, I forgot if it was Beth or Lizzie, looked like she was wearing traffic cones in her bra.
The pizza had arrived already, and most of the other guys were hovering around the food tables inhaling pizza as fast as they could.
Troy introduced a kid with a thick neck and beady little eyes. He had red pizza sauce smeared all around his mouth and on his chin. "This is Curtis."
"Hi," I waved. I didnít want to shake his hand. It was probably greasy from the pizza. Besides, in the dark basement, he might mistake my hand for a slice of pizza.
"I have to go to the bathroom," Dennis whispered to me.
"OK. Iíll be here."
I sat down on a couch and almost sank in to the floor. Like my knees were almost in my nostrils. It was kinda uncomfortable. The girl with the traffic cones in her bra sat next to me.
"I really love your costume," she said.
"Thanks," I mumbled. "My dad helped. Actually, he put it together." I tried to be as suave a possible. "YouíreÖ.Lizzie, right?"
"Yeah," she said as she cracked her gum. "Kinda slow party."
"I just got here."
"Iíve never seen you at any of Troyís parties before."
"I donít usually live here. Iím from Bloomington." Then when I saw the blank look on her face, I added, "Illinois."
"Oh, youíre a flatlander."
I was going to tell her that she was a cheesehead, but she was trying to be nice to me, so I didnít. Being a cheesehead is not exactly a compliment.
"Iím staying with my dad for the summer," I explained to Lizzie.
Just then Dennis returned. He had a funny smell around him, like burning rope. Not like cigarettes; I know what that smells like. This was sort of a sweet smell. I squinted at him.
The two other girls Troy had introduced us to earlier came over. They perched on the coffee table. They were all kinda cute. If you like girls. Of course, I was more interested in Dennis. Troy was very cute too, but he was straight.
"Dennis, you remember Lizzie? And this is Betsy and Beth."
Dennis was all tongue-tied! I was floored! He could talk to me, and he seemed OK with Troy. He had no problems joking and talking to my dad. And he was a smart ass to his older brother. But he couldnít talk to girls! It was so weird! I was shocked. Dennis always seemed so smooth and so self-confident to me.
Troy passed behind the couch and Dennis jumped off the couch as if he has sat on a whoopee cushion. He followed Troy upstairs. I was a little upset that he was deserting me with the three Madonnas. I was really upset that he was following Troy.
"So how do you know Troy?" Lizzie asked me.
"My dad works with his dad," I told her.
"Troy is really cool," Beth - I think it was Beth - said.
"Yeah," the other Elizabeth agreed.
"Troyís parents are really rich," Beth explained, "but heís really cool. Usually rich kids are assholes. The whole family is nice. The DJ is his older brother, Brent. He just got out of rehab."
I stored that little tidbit of information away in my memory banks.
Brent put on Blue Monday. All of a sudden, I felt like dancing.
"Do you want to dance?" Lizzie asked shyly.
I was stuck. I couldnít say no, especially after she was trying to be nice to me. But I also didnít want to encourage her. Iíve seen that look before in the eyes of girls. Itís that look that says, I think youíre really cute. And while Lizzie was kinda cute, despite her big eighties hair, she simply had the wrong plumbing.
I wanted a cute boy.
And what about the other two?
I hesitated. "Well, IÖ"
"Donít worry about us," Beth said.
"I have an idea! We could all dance together!" Lizzie shouted above the music. Oh, great. Dancing with Elizabeth I, II and III. The whole freaking royal family of Williams Bay. .
Before I could say no, Lizzie grabbed me by the wrist, and we were in front of the DJ.
After a few minutes, I started loosening up. Blue Monday is one of my favorite songs, and the girls were good dancers. And so am I. Most boys - I mean guys - my age donít like to fast dance. But, I can bust a move with the best of them. And donít believe anyone who says that fast dancing is a wuss thing to do. You can really break a sweat, especially on these extended dance songs that last about five days. Ok, not five days, but ten minutes, easily.
"Youíre a really good dancer," Beth shouted.
"Yeah," Lizzie and Betsy agreed.
When the song ended, I flopped on the couch, sweating and hot. Betsy brought me a cold drink. Before long, we were talking and laughing as if we had been friends for a long time. I ate some pizza and we talked about what our favorite songs, and subjects in school and books. They were really nice to me, and that made it easy.
But, in the back of my mind, I was wondering where Dennis was. How long had he been gone? I tried to figure it out in my head. I was wearing my watch, but I forgot to check the time when he left.
Finally, Dennis appeared, as if out of nowhere. He came up to the back of the couch, and leaned over it. He seemed a little wobbly on his feet. And he had that smell on his breath and clothes again. He had been smoking weed. Thatís what that smell was. It took me a while to figure out what the smell was.
I was a little mad at him for leaving for so long, but this was not the time or place to talk about it.
"Hi," I said to him.
"High? Yeah, I guess I am."
It was 9:50 and I was looking for Dennis. Dad was going to pick us up any minute. To my surprise, most of the other kids were leaving at ten, too. I didnít feel so much like a geek.
"Troy, have you seen Dennis?"
"Yeah, he was in my room the last time I saw him."
So thatís where heís been going, I thought to myself.
Troy signaled come here with his index finger. I followed him into the kitchen. No one else was there.
"Umm, I have something to tell you. I hope you wonít be mad at me. I really like you, Joe. But I donít like Dennis."
"What? What happened?"
"Ummm." Troy looked to his left and to his right. He looked really nervous. "When we were in my roomÖummmmÖ"
Troy was nervous about telling me that they were smoking pot in his room. I waved it off. "You were smoking weed." I waved my hand. "I donít care. I donít do it, but I donít care if Dennis does. Or if you do." After all, it is his house.
"Thatís not it," Troy whispered. "It was just him and me in the bedroom. We were smoking and just kicking back. Then, he tried to grab my dick."
"I asked him if he was OK, and he said ĎBetter than OK.í Then I asked him if he was going to head downstairs and he grabbed my dick through my jeans and said, ĎThis is where I would like to head.í"
I covered my mouth. "Oh my God."