My heart was pumping like a sump pump clearing the basement of spring flood waters; my legs ached from the constant strain of wrapping me tightly to my perch; my fists sore from gripping tightly due to the intensity and fierceness of my present position and condition; the knuckles on both hands white; my face flush from the heat of the moment and the exertion; finally, I stopped, caught my breath, and moaned!
What would I do now? I climbed from my perch, a slightly used (well more than slightly since my older brothers enjoyed it as much as I presently do) bicycle, booted out the kickstand so it wouldn’t tumble to the ground ending up in a jumble like my head and very soul were doing at the moment, and walked into the back door of my house, where I lived with my Momma, Daddy, one older sister and four older brothers. Well, to put it more correctly, one older sister in eleventh grade, an older brother preparing to graduate high school in less than a month and still living at home. My other older brothers have moved out and have their own places to live, providing me with nieces and nephews galore, it seems. Momma said I should have been named “Ennuf,” since I’m the youngest and the last one in line, instead of Daniel; as far as she was concerned- enough! Daddy never said!
One month left of eighth grade before summer vacation and it happened! God, I’d hoped the rumor would die out and go away and everyone would smile and say “See, I told you it wasn’t true,” but it didn’t happen that way! No sir; it was true and there was no way in hell I could stop it!
I stepped into the kitchen where Momma was at the stove fixing something for supper or baking cookies or something that really smelled great, but this was not the time to be distracted! Trying to be brave, holding back tears, I blurted out, “Momma, its true!” and sat down at the table.
“What’s true, Honey?” She asked, putting a plate of sugar cookies and a glass of cold milk in front of me. Well, that did ease the pain, just a little! A hot cookie and a cold glass of milk does wonders when you’re distraught and heartbroken!
“It’s gone, Momma! Disappeared, torn down, gone with the wind, dismantled – “Poof,” with a magic wand and the popcorn stand was whistled away to never-never land, that’s what I mean. What will we do now?”
“Oh, don’t worry, Daniel, something always will come up.”
Well, at my age, something did come up quite a bit, but I don’t think that’s what Momma was talking about. At age thirteen, soon to be fourteen, I was forever popping a boner, all four and half inches of it, which, by the way, I thought rather respectable, but I’d seen bigger- much bigger!
“What will I do come summer and Saturday evenings?”
“Don’t fret so much,” she said trying to console me, “everything will work out!”
Well, it sure as hell better and it was all Mr. Jenkins fault! If he hadn’t up and died, we wouldn’t be in this particular distasteful, disappointing crisis! Things just didn’t change much in our town and in this case, it was change I was not happy with! The only other change in recent days was the ranch style house across the road and down about four blocks or so got sold and I could care less about that!
Mr. Jenkins owned, well used to before he croaked, the little popcorn stand down on the corner of the city park. Daddy said the popcorn stand must have been there a hundred years. I didn’t think Mr. Jenkins looked that old before he did a “toes up” but maybe so! I agreed with my older brother Gordon when he said “Mr. Jenkins is so old, when God pronounced ‘Let there be light,’ Mr. Jenkins turned on the switch!”
Ever since he died, rumors ran rampant in the school; specifically, the old popcorn stand would be sold and torn down! I didn’t believe a word of it until today! After school, once I heard the terrible news, I rode my bike to the park to see for myself. The popcorn stand was gone! The rumors were not rumors; it was true!
The city park in our little community of some two thousand or so hardy northern folks, was between the downtown section and Clear Lake; hence the name of our small town “Lakeview.” From the time I could remember, the little popcorn stand served it’s delectable delights to those frequenting the beach on a hot summer day; before, during, and after the weekly Saturday evening community band concert at the band shell; and any afternoon (open only after twelve noon, thank you very much) and into the evening when people decided to enjoy some popcorn for a treat. Often, there was a line formed waiting to be served; oddly, there was never any pushing or shoving, just nice, jovial conversation among people gathered to enjoy a treat.
Our town was in the midst of the lakes and forest recreation area and populated, during the summer, by thousands of summer cabin people, weekenders, campers, and varied other tourists; all seeking to “escape” from the hectic cities and relax in the “quiet of the forests and lake country.” Well, it soon changed from “quiet” as we knew it, to “hectic” as they knew it. The resorts filled, if the weather was cooperative and economy flush, the two hundred site Campground and RV Park along the lake just north of town filled with campers, weekenders settled in their “cottages” for the weekenders, “snowbirds” returned from down south to occupy their summer quarters, and the cash registers filled, we hoped!
We weren’t the wealthiest people in town; actually, we lived just outside of town, across the road from the city limits. We only had a three bedroom house located on five acres of land that Momma and Daddy purchased a couple of years after they married, and with six kids and money scarce most entertainment was free such as the band concert or swimming at the beach; treats were of the cheap variety also, mainly popcorn at the little stand. Usually two of us had to share a bag and sometimes, three of us! When my teeth came in, I discovered caramel corn and loved it! The only trouble was, it cost more than regular corn, so I didn’t get it very often.
Popcorn was a weekly treat at home during the winter, but summer with all of the canning and gardening in our large garden, and with swimming, fishing, and working, it was a real treat to go to the park and have or share a bag of caramel corn (which Momma seldom made at home). The trouble was, except for Daddy, I was the only one who really liked it so I’d have to bribe my older sister or brothers by taking their turn at dishes or something so one would share with me.
To say I was upset, saddened, and angry when I went to bed that evening would be an understatement! I was still distraught the rest of the week until Friday. I heard some more rumors; Rozzy (Roswell) Wilson (in my grade and little on the pudgy side with a pug nose and short dick but his daddy owns the little weekly shopper newspaper so he sometimes gets the story before it’s published) announced he heard somebody really did buy the popcorn stand so they could tear it down and build a new one! Well, that was certainly good news, if it was true; Rozzy also bragged his dick doubled or tripled in size when he got a hard-on. It happened one day after physical education in the shower and you know what? He lies!
I loved that “old” popcorn stand; it represented everything in life that my young mind imagined life should be- Momma and Daddy, Gram and Gramps, school, concerts in the park, swimming at the beach and caramel corn for a treat! I even dreamed someday I’d own that stand. Now that dream was shot in the ass!
Every day, when I could, if it didn’t rain or I had to help around the house or help Daddy and Gordon, I’d ride by to check on the progress of the new popcorn stand. Sometimes some of my cousins would go along and we’d lean our bikes up against a tree and sit on one of the park benches and yak about the progress, or lack of it, and how ugly the new stand looked – well, sort of ugly, maybe!
As Memorial Day approached, the traditional day the beach opened and the popcorn stand also, the first community band concert at the Band Shell in the park, and the official opening of the “summer season” when all of the seasonal folks settled in for the summer, there was a flurry of activity around the new stand. The new stand was bigger than the old one and painted on the outside in reds, whites, yellows, and blues with large popcorn boxes overflowing with the succulent treat decorating the outside walls. Big lighted signs on the front and sides of the stand, high near the roof proclaimed simply “Popcorn!” Strange as it may seem, there was also a handicapped access ramp toward the back where the door allowing the owners to enter was located. There was only one possible explanation for it, I thought; the new owner or owners were old, perhaps using walkers, and couldn’t handle stairs!
I hoped the new owners didn’t raise the price too high since they built such a nice new stand. I’d been saving my money from snow shoveling during the winter, waiting to buy a box of fresh caramel corn. Lawn mowing hadn’t really started yet so I had to be kind of stingy with my cash, so to speak, until I could earn a little more!
Summer was a busy time for all of us yet at home! Daddy worked as a mechanic at the Ford garage in town and during his days off, usually on the weekends, he did odd jobs around the community and surrounding area. He was ever so clever and could fix or build anything in his shop at home. People hired him to hang doors, install windows and screens, fix their lawn mowers, and garden tractors- you name it, he did it!
Some of the local farmers would hire him to fix some of their equipment, if it wasn’t too major, or figure out some sort of gadget they needed to do some task. A couple of times a year, he’d take a hog or steer for payment, depending on how big the job was or how much time he logged working for them, and we’d have it butchered and put in one of our two big deep freezes at home. Worked fine for the farmer and great for us! I think some of them just wrote it off as a loss of some sort!
Daddy did the little things no one else wanted or cared to do. The cabin people (seasonal folks) loved to have him get their places ready for summer occupancy and winter vacancy along with any repairs they needed done. If something went awry during the time they were here, they’d call “The Fix-it Guy;” that’s what Daddy finally called his little business.
When my oldest brother, Lawrence, was about in eighth grade, Daddy put him to work mowing laws for cabin people and resorts and began the “Weber Lawn Care Services.” There were plenty of lawns to mow and people were happy with our work. I did the ones in town I could get to on our riding lawn and garden tractor while Gordon, my next oldest brother, did the cabins, resorts, and a couple of cemeteries we contracted and had to drive to. I helped with the cabins and others by trimming with the power push mower if Gordon needed me.
Daddy fixed up a small two wheel cart I could pull behind the lawn and garden tractor with my push mower and trimming equipment in it. I also used it to hall the bags of grass trimmings from my bagger on the tractor home to the compost pile. He also built a two-wheel trailer with a ramp so we could haul the tractor behind the pickup truck to lawn jobs.
I suppose you think this has nothing to do with the popcorn stand, but it does. These jobs provide me with a little extra cash, other than what I have to save for college someday, for my weekly treat. Momma and Daddy never finished high school (Lawrence was born premature – hint, hint, wink, wink) and they really want one of us to go to college and so far I seem to be the only one interested. But, I so wanted to spend some of that extra cash at the popcorn stand!
Finally, Memorial Day Weekend! I waited until Saturday evening before going to the popcorn stand, although it officially opened on Friday evening. Why did I wait? For a very simple, perhaps stupid reason; I wanted to maintain some semblance of what it used to be like the year before and the year before that and before Mr. Jenkins kicked the bucket! I know it sounds foolish, but that’s what I did!
Walking downtown, heading for the popcorn stand, it’s yellow lights around the top blazing out a “welcome” and the signs on top, flood lights illuminating the big, red signs proclaiming “Popcorn” beckoned me to approach and part with my cash. Standing in line before one of the two customer windows, one regular height and the other lower, almost waist high with a small “handicapped” sign (one of those blue and white signs with a wheelchair on it) gave me the impression if I was seated in a chair I could be easily served.
The “normal” window had a good-looking guy, probably college age, hustling around, making popcorn, taking orders, filling orders for popcorn –“regular, caramel corn, or cheesy corn, or slush; what’s your pleasure?” Now, that’s something new; Mr. Jenkins never had slushes; those icy cold, fruit flavored crushed ice, Slurpee type drinks that gave you a headache if you sucked too much up through the straw while you drank it!
The line was much shorter in length in the other window, so I switched. I’m not handicapped, well maybe a little in the dick department, but since no one who was seemed to be waiting, I didn’t think it would hurt if I stepped in that line. I mean, it’s not like one of those handicapped parking spots where it’s stupid to park in, not to mention illegal, when someone has a real need to park there.
In that window, waiting on customers was a boy- maybe my age, dark hair, dark eyes, sitting there waiting on customers.
Hey! Wait a cotton-picking minute! Where’s the old, ugly people I thought owned the popcorn stand? In one window, a young college-age guy and the other window, the one I was now standing in front of, a young, not ugly, really fucking fantastic looking boy with a broad smile and lips to die for waiting for my order and seated in a wheel chair!
Suddenly, I was ashamed, embarrassed, and angry at myself for being so insensitive! Looking at him, everything made sense; the handicapped ramp at the side entrance door, the low window with a handicapped sign, and me- standing there like the complete fucking dork I am!
“May I help you?” the cute boy asked.
I nodded, unable to speak, my shame overcoming me!
“Popcorn or slush?”
“Popcorn,” I replied so soft I worried he could hear me and looked at him, almost drowning in those soft, dark, appealing eyes, wanting for some reason to taste his lips, or just smell him! Now how dumb does that sound? On top of it all, I was beginning to notice a bit of a reaction in my shorts and it wasn’t wind from the tail pipes either!
“Regular, caramel corn, or cheese?”
I just grinned and he grinned back!
With a wink, he said, “I bet you like something sweet, with a bit of hardness to it, and stickiness left on your hands and lips. I know that’s what I like!”
Again, I just nodded and grinned like a dip-shit!
He wheeled around, grabbed a box of caramel corn from the shelf, set it on the order counter, and I shoved my money across, saying, “I’m Danny!”
Taking my money, touching my fingers just a little longer than ordinarily, he answered, “I’m Alan!”
Like a dumb shit, I just grinned back and stood there until someone jabbed me in the ass with a finger snarling, “Move it, Danny, I want to something too!”
It was Roswell Wilson’s little brother, just as pudgy and I imagine with just as small a dick or smaller!
“Ease off, Dickie,” I growled back.
“I’m not ‘Dickie,’” he whined, “I’m Richard!”
“See yah around?” I asked Alan.
“Yep,” he smiled back.
Taking a seat just across the sidewalk on a park bench where I could watch Alan at work in the stand, I slowly and I mean slowly, savored each and every single, sweet caramel corn kernel of popcorn in that box, making it last until the concert was over in the band shell. What the hell the band played, I haven’t a clue; I was so fixated on the boy in the popcorn stand! He was the most attractive, desirable boy I’d ever seen and I wanted so much to be friends with him!
Momma and Daddy were sitting at the kitchen table visiting and drinking coffee when I came home. Daddy was done for the day; he’d been called in to work at the garage when a visitor to the town locked his keys in his car and needed Daddy to open it (how he does it, I have no idea and I really don’t want to know, sometimes) and the rest of the day he spent working on lawnmowers, a chain saw, and a weed wacker summer people forgot to get fixed before they left for the winter and now, for some reason, thought they needed them right now!
He really looked tired, but still gave me warm smile, a hug, and a kiss. Gordon was already in bed, according to Momma. He’d mowed and trimmed two cemeteries (the headstones all needed to trimmed around and flower containers cleared so fresh or artificial flowers could be placed in them by loved ones) for the phalanx of visitors expected Sunday and Monday, Memorial Day.
After I said my “good night and I love you,” I overheard Momma tell Daddy, Patty Jacobsen, an old friend from elementary and high school days, moved back to town and bought the house down the street. According to what I heard as I headed into my bedroom and out of earshot, she was divorced and sounded like two kids in college, but I couldn’t be certain since Gordon was in bed, flat on his back, and snoring like a horse! I was happy I didn’t have to share a bed with him like I used to when my older brothers were still home. It was a good thing he was asleep ‘cause I was in desperate need of a good, mind-blowing, body-shaking, wank; imagining every sexual act possible with Alan! I stroked away until, SPLURT; I creamed all over my hand and bare stomach! Well, that was good for what ails me!
Settling down to sleep, I thought how nice it would be to have my own room, but that wouldn’t be possible for a few years. My sister Marie had the other bedroom all to herself (it was the smallest) and she was still at work at one of the local supper clubs south of town along the lake. It’d be late when she got home. If it was a good night for tips, she’d make a pocketful and that was great! She was still in high school, as was Gordon, so she needed her space more than we did, I thought.
Sunday, Momma wanted me to work in the garden weeding and help her peel potatoes for potato salad, along with helping her oven fry chicken for Monday’s traditional family picnic here at home after the morning parade downtown. My brothers, John, Fred, and Lawrence, along with wives and kids, would come home for the day. Actually, Fred and Lawrence were the only ones with children, but John said he and his new wife were working hard at it! Momma said she’d also invited her friend Patty and her family to join us. There’d only be two of her four kids joining us since the other two had to work.
Finished with the garden and about two-thirds of the way through peeling potatoes, Mrs. Wilson from across town called and wanted to know if I had time to mow her lawn this afternoon and trim around the flower beds and shrubs. It seems unexpected company was coming the next day and she decided, since the weather forecast was for great weather, to have a picnic. Mrs. Wilson has a big yard, a twenty-five dollar yard, so it’s hard to turn that one down. Besides, she’s a steady customer all summer and is a really nice lady!
“But of course,” I replied in my most pleasant, accommodating, customer friendly hoping for a big tip on such a short notice voice, “I’ll be there as soon as I finish helping Mom; say in forty-five minutes or so?”
That suited her fine and after I hung up, Momma shooed me from the kitchen and told me to get changed and do her yard, since she agreed, “Mrs. Wilson is such a nice lady and has always been kind to you boys when you mow her yard or clean her drive and walks in the winter.”
After receiving reminders to wear my steel toed shoes, hard hat, ear plugs, safety glasses, and leather gloves, I hooked the little cart behind the garden tractor, loaded up the push mower in it along with a gas can, extra oil, the gas string trimmer and edger, along with my tool box, and headed down the street. I had a “Slow Moving Vehicle” sign and a flashing yellow light on the back of the tractor so people could see me and, hopefully, avoid smashing into me.
It was supper time when I returned home, thirty-five dollars richer! Mrs. Wilson was so grateful, she gave me a ten dollar tip, for which I was thankful.
Memorial Day morning, my brothers and their families arrived. All of us, including Gordon and Elaine since they didn’t have to work, headed downtown to watch the parade about forty-five minutes before it was to start. We ended up near the city park where most of the crowd was gathered since that’s where the food stands were located, but people lined the parade route in both directions. Some were standing, some sitting on the curb, and others, like my family had lawn chairs to sit in. Momma gave me permission to wander around and enjoy myself, as long as I came right home after the parade for lunch.
I took off, past the popcorn stand and noticed two older boys (one was the one working with Alan on Friday and the other I didn’t know) were working, but no sight of Alan. I spotted him about two blocks away with a woman I assumed to be his Mom. He spotted me about the same time I saw him, gave a shout and waved me toward them.
He quickly introduced me to his Mom, “nice to meet you” but I didn’t catch her last name so I just smiled and then asked if we could wander around together. She hesitated, wondering about me I would suppose, but when I quickly stepped behind his chair and put my hands on the handles, she seemed relieved and nodded her approval. I guess she wasn’t certain how I’d act around her handicapped son. Hell, he wasn’t handicapped to me, just fucking gorgeous!
“Where do you want to go?” I asked as I began pushing. Before he could answer, his mom told him he had to be back at the popcorn stand when the parade was over because they had another engagement.
“No problem,” I answered for him, “I have to be home for lunch so we won’t be racing out to the campground and back.”
She laughed, we giggled, and took off, me as the engine, and Alan providing the energy! Down the main street we tooled; jabbering and laughing, waving at an occasional cousin of mine I’d see or one of my lawn customers. Actually, I did most of the talking and Alan just listened and laughed. There was so much I wanted to tell him; it was as if everything had been bottled up in me since – I don’t know when! Momma always said I kept too much to myself and I was not a great conversationalist! I jabbered about my lawn mowing business, working in the garden, snow shoveling, fishing, my older brothers and sister, swimming.
Alan interrupted me when I mentioned “swimming.”
“I have never been swimming in a lake or even in a pool since my accident!”
“Then, when the water warms up, we’ll go,” I replied confidently.
“Let me worry about that when the time comes!”
We stopped at a church food stand and I bought a large (about a quart) soft drink and two straws. That’s about all the money I had on me, but I wanted to treat and share. We went another block, Alan holding the drink and me pushing, until we came to Lake Street, the street that runs along the lake through town. There’s benches there you can sit on and look at the lake. I sat on the end of one, Alan maneuvered his chair so he could see the lake and we could still put our heads together and drink from the big plastic drink container. I suppose it looked odd to people, but I could give a shit! We were having fun and getting to know each other.
As we finished our drink, I heard the distant “boom” of an aerial bomb signaling the start of the parade in about ten minutes.
“Alan, we have to go!”
“So do I,” he said in return.
I looked at him and asked, “Do you mean like go –go?”
I pushed us up to the Village Café just a block up, shoved open the door, and maneuvered Alan’s chair in.
“Hey, Uncle Charlie,” I said to the man behind the counter, “we need to use the bathroom, okay?”
He nodded, and on the way to the can I explained it was my Daddy’s brother and his wife that owned the café. Her daddy used to own it, but Uncle Charlie and Aunt Louise bought it on land contract and now own it.
In the men’s room, I looked at the urinals and at Alan. He shrugged his shoulders, saying apologetically, “I didn’t wear my leg braces and bring my crutches so I can’t stand up at the urinals.”
I thought a moment, wheeled him into the handicapped stall, and told him to unzip and loosen his pants. When he did, I pulled them and his boxer shorts down to his ankles. I got a real good look at his package! His cock was uncut, like mine, soft it was thicker and longer than mine but only by an inch or two; his balls were a little bigger and smooth like mine and hung loosely in their sack. I swiped my lips with my tongue at the sight and he saw me! Alan just grinned and winked! God, he was so damned cute and sexy!
He wrapped his arms around my neck like he’d been doing it all his life, and I raised up, lifting him from his chair, and using my hands on his bare ass, slid him over on the pot.
“Need any help holding the hose?” I asked.
“Maybe later!” he giggled.
When he was done, I leaned over so he could wrap his arms around my neck again so I could lift him. Standing up straight, Alan hanging from my neck, he nuzzled his nose into my shoulder, and sighed, “You smell good!”
My hands were resting on his bare, smooth, warm, butt cheeks and I sort of massaged them and then ran my hands up under his shirt, sliding up his back just a smidge.
“Nice!” we both sighed at once.
“I better quit,” I said hastily, “I’m getting a stiffie.”
“I already have one,” answered Alan softly.
I just had to touch it so I moved one hand around front and gently encircled his stiffness with my hand. He moaned and I said, “Now I know I have to get you into your chair!”
“Because I have to piss like a racehorse and with a hard-on, I’m liable to piss straight up through my jeans and soak you and me!”
We quickly got his pants up and seated and while he was tucking and zipping, I was poking my dick out through my jeans trying to piss!
“Need some help holding that?” he asked.
“Maybe later!” I replied.
We barely made it back up to the parade route when the fire trucks, sirens blaring, and the marching band, horns tooting, and the floats and politicians came by.
His mom was waiting at the popcorn stand when we arrived. Alan quickly divided up the candy we’d collected when the parade participants threw it to the crowds. After I’d dashed out a couple of times to grab some off of the concrete street, I decided Alan needed to go along. From then on, I’d push him out, gather up the candy and give it to him. People threw even more when we did that. It didn’t take long for the other kids to catch on and gathered around us, knowing we were “candy magnets!” The only “candy” I was attracted to was the “candy” in Alan’s shorts!
Man, did we have fun! He knew it didn’t make one bit of difference to me whether he was in his wheelchair or riding in a jet plane. We were best buds and more and that’s all that mattered to us! I hated to leave him with his mom, because there was so much more we wanted to do, but I had to hustle my ass home; I already was later than I should be.
“Hey,” I asked, starting to leave, “I’ve got some lawn jobs I have to do tomorrow morning; you work tomorrow night?”
“See you then, okay?”
“Enjoy your luncheon,” I said teasingly.
“Oh,” he smirked back, “you too!”
Everyone, except our guests, was at the house. The picnic tables were set up under the big maple trees, the folding tables Daddy had salvaged years before and repaired were set up and covered with brightly colored tablecloths read to receive the food Momma prepared and my sister’s-in-law brought and the cold drinks (including some beer my brother Lawrence brought) were in ice chests at the end of the serving table.
Momma sent me to the house for some old towels to use in case someone spilled something. When I came back out to the porch with the towels, I saw a white, full-sized family passenger van pull up into the gravel parking area located in front of the house and Daddy’s shop. A young lady, who I didn’t recognize, exited from the driver’s door and on the passenger side, just behind the door, two doors swung open, one each way, and a metal platform folded down. I watched and there he was; scooting his wheelchair onto the ramp and beginning to descend to the ground!
“ALAN!” I screeched, bounding off of the porch and tossing the towels to Daddy as I raced by.
I heard Alan shout, just as gleefully and excited as me, “DANNY!”
His chair barely hit the ground when I got to the van. He reached up with both arms for a hug, and man, did we ever!
“They must know each other,” I heard my brother John say to Gordon.
“Hope so,” he responded, “the way they’re hugging each other!”
“Shush, you two!” Momma admonished. “It’s time Danny found a best friend; he’s been pretty much a loner!”
You bet I did; the greatest, bestest friend I could ever have!
After we finally released each other, I leaned back and asked, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t know either,” he answered. “I thought we were going to meet some old people who had been mom’s friends.”
“And I thought it was just going to be the same,” I snickered.
I looked up at Momma as she stood, along with Alan’s mom, smiling at us and asked, “I thought I overheard you tell Daddy your friend’s name was ‘Jacobsen.’”
“Jacobsen was my maiden name,” Alan’s mom replied. “My married name is Fuller. Your mom and I were best friends through grade school and high school until she…..we went our separate ways.”
Good enough for me! I quickly stepped behind Alan and with a giggle and push, moved him across the parking area to the lawn and one of the picnic tables. I never realized until then how difficult it is to move a wheelchair across a grassy lawn. I couldn’t imagine how people in wheelchairs managed to get around sometimes. I pushed him to the end of a table where he could slip his chair under the table top and I took a seat on the end next to him. We giggled and laughed and talked about everything until Fred’s wife, Lucille (she’s sort of churchlike and I’m certain wouldn’t approve of what Alan and I wanted to do and be) offered the table grace.
I quickly grabbed two plates and dinnerware for Alan and me and asked him, “What would you like to eat?”
He motioned me over, pulled my head down next to his, and whispered, “You!”
“God, that would be so great, but there’s too many people watching right now!” I whispered back.
“I like what you like,” he then said loud enough for others to hear and I headed for the food tables.
I piled our plates full of fried chicken, potato salad, a couple of rolls, and fruit salad, trotted over to our table, left them for Alan to sort out, and went to the ice chests for a couple of sodas, bypassing to pick up a couple of pieces of apple pie I placed on another plate, before returning to our seats. We were pretty much quiet while we ate; I guess we were hungry, but every now and then I’d look up and see him looking at me, smiling and happy! Shit, so was I!
After lunch, I cleaned up our dishes and asked him if he wanted to see the rest of our place.
“How?” he said looking down, “I didn’t bring my braces and sticks.”
“No problem,” I said confidently, turned my back to him, squatted down, and without telling him to do so, he wrapped his arms around my neck, laid his head on my shoulder, and when I started to raise up, I reached around, grabbed a one of his legs in each arm and carried him piggyback, heading toward the shop.
“Danny!” Momma shouted, in a scolding manner, “you be careful of him!”
“Don’t worry Mrs. Weber,” Alan shouted back, “he can do it. We’ve done this before,” and leaned even farther forward as we neared the shop and stuck his tongue in my ear! God, instant hard-on – for both of us!
In the shop, I headed for the garden tractor I used for mowing, twisted until I could put him on the seat and once he was situated, opened the big doors, climbed on behind him, and then maneuvered my body and his so he was sitting on my lap and crotch. I started up the tractor, backed it out, and we started off on our tour. We hadn’t made it to the chicken house, until he was doing the steering and shifting and I was handling the clutch and brake. We worked great as a team and he loved it!
While we rode about, I learned he’d was eight when a drunken driver hit him while he was on his bicycle coming home from school and left his legs paralyzed. He was able to move his hips and had some movement in his upper thighs from therapy he thought, but from there on down, nothing!
“At least, I think I’ll be able to fuck!” he said enthusiastically, “If I find the right person!”
I thought he had, but thought I’d better be quiet about that for a while. He continued to chatter; his mom and dad were divorced when he was ten; his mom was a nurse and got a job at the local clinic; his brothers were working the popcorn stand today, and the girl who drove them here was his older sister, Elaine. Finally, he was pretty quiet until he turned his face to me and said softly, “And I like boys!”
“Me too,” I said back, “but only one!”
I stopped us behind the chicken house, out of sight of everyone, turned his face toward me, and kissed him! It was the first time either of us had kissed another boy and it was awesome! I just couldn’t resist, while our tongues begin to engage, to reach around and gently grip his crotch, feeling his tool grow hard in my hands. We both moaned our pleasure!
We drove the tractor back to the shop and before I lifted Alan from the seat, he said, “I have to go!”
“You mean, go-go or leave?
“I mean as in ‘poop,’ ‘crap,’ ‘shit,” or whatever you want to call it!”
“No problem,” and spun around, squatted a little, he wrapped his arms around my neck, I hefted up his legs and carried him piggy-back to the house and into the bathroom. I lowered the lid so he’d have a place to sit while we scooched his pants and boxers down to his ankles and lifted him again so I could drop the toilet seat. Alan hung around my neck for a moment, raised his head, and our lips engaged again. He was marvelous kisser; the warm feeling of emotional and erotic pleasure he gave me tingled throughout my body, traveling south rapidly bringing me to a full teen cock-stand, my proud prong pointed north. By the feel of his stiff cock jabbing me in the stomach, I was having the same effect on him.
Reluctantly, I released his lips, gently lowered him to the toilet seat, and retreated to a perch on the edge of the tub/shower to wait while he completed his business. Alan looked at me with intensity and desire and continued to stare at me while he began fisting his stiff cock. He’d made about ten or so strokes and I knew I had to do it for him and he knew I would.
Quickly kneeling beside him, I replaced his hand with mine, and began slipping his foreskin up and down over his thick cock-head. He leaned back against the toilet tank and gasped his pleasure, a smile of satisfaction spreading across his face. Less than a minute later, he grunted softly, pushing his hips up, fucking my hand, “I’m cumming!”
I just had to taste him and take him into my body, so I leaned over, replacing my hand with my mouth and sucked his cock to the root about the time he shot his load of four or five spurts of teen boy cum. When he was done pulsing, I cleaned him up with my tongue, stood up, kissed him letting him taste himself from my mouth, and sat back down on the edge of the tub.
It didn’t take Alan long to dump the load from his bowels. When he found it difficult to reach the toilet paper, I did it for him, handing him how much he needed when he needed it. He finally said, once he had wiped as clean as tissue could get his ass, “Would you have an old washcloth? I have to get really, really clean or it causes me all sorts of problems like sores and stuff since I spend most of my time sitting down.”
“No problem,” I answered responding to his request. A clean wash cloth, warm water, and soap and we were ready to scrub his butt! Instead of letting him do it, I said, “Let me do it; just lean forward!”
Alan leaned forward to expose his very nice butt and I began washing him. I made about two swipes with the cloth up and down his ass crack and felt him unzip my jeans and extract my boner from its confined space. Holding it with one hand, he wrapped his mouth around it and began slow, bobs, sucking as he did. I whimpered, thrust forward, and let him perform miracles on my teen rod. Thirty seconds later I fired my wad and he swallowed! God, I loved him! After he licked me clean, I picked up a towel and dried his butt.
“Thanks Danny,” he said.
“No problem, I’ll be happy to do it again, anytime you want you know that don’t you?”
“Yeah, I do,” he said before lowering his voice, “I love you so much I could just bust sometimes!
I knew the feeling well! We got him dressed and back to the picnic! It was a great afternoon and I was sorry to see him go home, but I knew it was only the beginning of a lifetime with Alan Fuller!
Bedtime rolled around and I gave Momma and Daddy a hug and a kiss before retiring to my room. Gordon and John were still out on the town and I knew they wouldn’t be home until late, both collapsing together on Gordon’s bed. I lay there thinking what a lucky guy I was. My thoughts were interrupted when Daddy knocked on the door and asked if he could come in.
He sat on the edge of my bed, looked at me, and said, “You really think Alan Fuller is something very special don’t you?”
I swallowed hard, worried Daddy was going to say something to me about what I felt about Alan and how he might not like it, but I answered in a shaky, soft voice, “Yes, Daddy, I do!”
“Danny, do you really, really like him in a very special way?”
Hesitating but thinking, “in for a penny, in for a pound,” I again replied softly, “Yes, Daddy!”
Daddy nodded, smiled at me in an approving manner, saying, “I thought so; I happened to be outside the bathroom door and heard part of what was said. Danny, any teen boy who wouldn’t hesitate to wipe another boy’s butt after he’d gone to the toilet, must be a very special boy and care for his friend deeply!”
Daddy leaned forward, lifting me to a sitting position, put his arms around me in a deep hug, saying, “Danny, love Alan the same way I love your Momma and all will be well. You’ll both be happy the rest of your lives! Okay?”
“Oh, Daddy,” I choked out emotionally, “I do and I will! Thank you so much!”
He kissed me again and left my room. I slept that night really knowing how lucky I was; loved by Momma and Daddy and especially by Alan Fuller, the boy in the popcorn stand.
Thank you for reading “The Boy in the Popcorn Stand.”
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