“Well, it’s true.” Shit’s grin got bigger. “If you like suckin’ or fuckin’, though, we can make you real happy. And me, I’ll fuck you any time you want. And you suck real good, there.”
“Come on.” But Dynamite was smiling. “You’ll get this boy all excited again — and we done had our fun today.” Without looking from the road, he laughed. “You two was already tradin’ snot and cum, back at Turpens. Didn’t that calm you down?”
“Oh,” Eric said. “Yeah, I guess, well…a little.”
Shit put his hand on Eric’s tank top shoulder — and squeezed. (Again, Eric was surprised. It didn’t feel like a calm-down squeeze.)
“Fuckin’ kids!” Still chuckling, Dynamite shook his head. “What calms a regular person down, just gets ’em hotter. Well, come on. We need to get this feller back to the Lighthouse.” Out the windshield, the sky burned gold behind lapped branches of darker and darker green.
“You’re Dynamite’s…nephew?” Barb had called Morgan his nephew.
Dynamite still looked out the windshield, as he drove. “Can you keep a secret, son?”
Eric nodded. “Uh-huh.”
“He ain’t.” Dynamite chuckled. “Not really.”
Eric looked back at Shit, who was grinning again. As they pulled around a turn, sun through the window moved over Dynamite’s fists, high on the wheel. Shining behind Shit’s beard, it made the tan momentarily look as blond as the boatman’s from the afternoon.
“Oh,” Eric said, confused. Then he said, “I ain’t gonna tell my mom you give me that piece of paper about the job back at Turpens. I’m gonna say you told me I could work for you tonight, when we were drivin’ back from the house — here.”
“Usually I don’t countenance kids lyin’ to their parents.” At the wheel Dynamite seemed to ponder. “But I don’t think that one’ll do no real harm.” Now he grimaced. “I mean, Turpens Truck Stop…? You ever go to that place, Shit?”
Beside him, Shit said, “I been by it — maybe gone in there once or twice to use the bathroom, but I don’t never really go in there.”
“Me neither,” Dynamite said. “I heard ’bout all sorts of nasty stuff goin’ on in the men’s rooms in that place — people wanna suck your pecker, stick their dick up your damned asshole — man, that’s gotta hurt!”
“Yeah,” Shit said. “Hurts so good I bet you can hardly stand it.”
Eric flinched — and looked down.
Again Shit had dropped a hand between Eric’s legs — and was rubbing.
Recovering from the surprise, Eric grinned; and, he realized, was not afraid of anything right now.
With only one hand, Shit got Eric’s zipper down — once Eric reached down to help — and went in with heavy fingers to grip Eric’s penis, again grown hard. Eric looked at him, to see him smiling toward the windshield.
Eric said, “I really like holdin’ onto yours. I mean, ’cause it’s so big. It makes mine feel like it’s bigger. What you get outta holdin’ onto mine, though?”
“I dunno.” Shit shrugged. “’Cause it’s a dick, I guess. Maybe it makes mine feel even bigger than it is.”
“Oh…!” Eric was surprised.
With his other thumb, Shit pointed at Dynamite. “That’s what he used to tell me, back before mine got big like his. He used to hold it — we used to hold onto each other’s, I mean. You know, when we’d be in bed, goin’ to sleep together. Or just drivin’ around — like this.”
Eric repeated, “Oh.”
Then, shaking his head, Shit said, “God, Eric, you look so good suckin’ dick — ’cause you so strong!”
“Come on,” Dynamite said. “I told you. Don’t get this boy all worked up, now.” The pickup shook on the pinewood’s red-dirt road. With his darkly stubbled face full of gold light, Dynamite seemed to remember something. “Hey, you still got that load Al slipped you in that fuckin’ scumbag of his?”
“Huh?” Eric saw the garbage man’s knee flex. “Yeah.”
Dynamite slowed the truck —
Shit asked, eagerly: “Was you gonna do anything with it?”
— to stop below over-arching trees.
Shadows ceased moving on their laps and chests and arms.
Eric glanced at Shit, who was grinning. “I dunno.”
“You could drink it down — rub it all over yourself. Use it to jerk off with. That’s what Mex would’ve done with it, if Al done give it to him.”
“Oh…”
Dynamite said: “If you don’t got no ideas, though, you could give it to me.” At the wheel, he shrugged. “I kinda like wearin’ that nigger’s rubbers, once he comes in ’em. Me and Shit only got eight-and-a-half — each. So neither one of us got no problem slippin’ that elephant’s raincoat on. You can slide it on me right now, it you want. That means I’ll owe you — I’ll have to do somethin’ nice for you, the next time we fuck.”
Eric said, “Okay…”
The evening’s silence came through the halted pickup’s windows.
Shit said, “Dynamite’s crazier than I am. He likes watchin’ people do nasty stuff — ”
“And you don’t?” Dynamite gave Shit a dry look. The truck stood by the immobile trees. “When I shoot in it, later, you know you gonna be wearin’ it next, soon as I finish. Go on — get it out.” He grinned at Eric. “If you still have it.” Holding the wheel with one hand, Dynamite put his arm back across the back seat. “Go on — take my dick out. Untie Al’s rubber — then slip it on me. Rub it around a little. When you’re finished, put my dick away again.”
“Okay.” Eric went digging in his pocket. (Beside him, Shit chuckled. Again he was rubbing Eric’s shoulder.) Eric found the quarter-full rubber, wrinkled but intact.
“Dr. Greene told me — ” Dynamite swung his knees apart under the wheel — “that Al always comes so much ’cause he don’t got good control of his bladder muscles. I mean, if you ever seen him come, it looks like snot shootin’ out of a sneeze in November, but Dr. Greene says what comes out is a third cum, and the other two thirds is really piss. That’s why there’s so much. But, hell, that just makes it nastier.”
Glancing at grinning Shit, Eric lay the thing, like a big slug, over Dynamite’s frayed and oil-spotted leg and began to work the button at the top of Dynamite’s fly. Then he tugged down the zipper. “You done this before…?” Reaching in (he’d already forgotten the man wore no underwear), he grasped the warm rope of Dynamite’s cock — half hard — to pull it free.
“’Bout any time he gets a chance,” Shit said.
“Aw, hell,” Dynamite said. “Maybe three times in the last year. That ain’t so much — ”
Again Eric picked up the rubber.
“Like I said — ” Shit turned to watch — “any time he can.”
Opening Al’s knot was harder than he’d thought. But Eric did it — Dynamite had pretty much gone down by then. But Eric lifted the cock and slid it into the loose and liquid filled tube.
“Go on, and rub that good stuff all around on it. Yeah, that feels nice.” (Eric massaged, while Dynamite’s cock hardened into the now familiar down-curved tower.) “How that look to you, Shit?”
Shit’s hand on Eric’s bare shoulder had stilled. He’d pushed his fingers under the tank top strap and was leaning over to see. “Looks good,” Shit said, an inch away from Eric’s ear.
“See, now — ” Dynamite grinned at Eric — “Next time we fuck around, — I heard Jay say you like that dick cheese — so I think we’re gonna keep ’em skinned forward for you till we see you again. Ain’t we, Shit?” He looked back at Eric. “What you say to that?”