Dupree, Most Unlikely
Part 2
I woke with a delicious warm feeling of well-being. In our sleep, I had rolled onto my back and Dupree--Alex--was snuggled up to my right side with his head on my chest. I stroked his cheek with my right hand and . . . beheld him. There is no other word for it--I Beheld Alex Dupree. Asleep he was so beatific. I understood how otherwise perfectly sane men could, without another thought, go on horrific crime sprees, or go off and conquer and subjugate the world, all for the one they loved. Looking at the boy, beholding the boy--the man--I think I could conquer every square inch of the globe if that would make him smile. Ugh!, I thought to myself, I'm gonna make myself puke or get a toothache if I keep thinking this crap. I glanced at Alex again--OH GODS--how cute he is!
It was after 1100, so I'd slept a good three to three-and-a-half hours. I could have lain there the rest of the day with Alex, but I had to piss, and I was getting hungry. I started to slide out from under the boy. He grabbed me firmly and held me snugly.
"We gotta get up Babyboy," I said gently.
"Why?"
"Because I have to pee, and I'm really not into piss play--especially in my own bed. And I'm hungry since I've had nothing more substantial than your spooge and a beer."
Dupree raised his head, turned my face to his and kissed me, briefly running his tongue over my teeth,
"You got nasty cum breff," he said.
"It's your nasty cum," I shot back.
He chuckled, kissed me again and rolled out the bunk with me close behind. We ducked into the bathroom, washed the sleep from our eyes and in a true testament to our new relationship, shared my toothbrush. After we dressed, we shared a minty fresh kiss and headed out to my truck, a black 1982 Jeep Scrambler, and brunch.
As we rode to a local steakhouse that put on an insane breakfast buffet, I started to sing along with the disc in my stereo Johnny Hartman with the John Coltrane Quartet; much to my pleasant surprise Dupree's bright clear tenor joined my mellow baritone in near perfect harmony on "Dedicated to You" and "My One and Only Love."
"When we get back," I said, "I got to get my guitar out; I'll play and you can sing. You got a voice Babyboy."
"Thanks Boss. You sound good too."
We arrived at our destination and piled into the buffet. I don't think that either of had realized how hungry we were; I was halfway through my 3rd plate before I even slowed down and Alex had scarfed half the steam tray of bacon and scrambled eggs before he paused for breath.
Our immediate hunger satiated, we slowed, sipped coffee and orange juice and chatted.
"I know your name, and where you're from," I said, and added in a low murmur, "and how totally hot you look naked, but very little else; how old are you? What do like to do? What were you like growing up and all that jazz? When'd you join the Army? College? Music? Church? . . ." I trailed off.
"Well let's see, I turned twenty last month--"
"October. What day?" I interrupted.
"The fourteenth why?" he responded.
"Mine is the fifteenth "I said.
"Well, well," said he and smiled, "Anyways, I grew up with my Moms; I'm the youngest, I got a brother and sister older. The only one who knows about me is my sister; my sperm donor "Dad" disappeared for the third and final time right after I was born. I graduated high school when I was seventeen--could a done when I was sixteen, but Moms wouldn't let me. I was raised up in the Church, I sing, play the piano and the violin--DON'T TELL NOBODY!--I like lots of different music hard bop jazz, Mozart, Beethoven, Bach Stravinsky, Benjamin Britten and Ravel. I've read all the classics of American and English Literature; I hate Flaubert and Dostoevsky; I love the poetry of Frost, Whitman, Wilfred Owen and W. B. Yeats; I hate most of Shakespeare; love most of Chaucer; love film noir, action movies, anime and graphic novels. I love the Impressionist painters and most other visual arts. Because of a neighbor I had, I learned Danse de la Rue Savate--much to the shock and dismay of many bigger guys, thugs and one hand-to-hand combat instructor. I love baseball, and hate basketball--yes a black man who hates b-ball--and could care less about football. I joined this-man's-Army to travel and get the college money," at this point he paused as our waitress refilled our drinks.
"I've had two really shitty relationships including one guy that tried to . . . hurt me--I don't wanna talk about it--and I've never been in love . . . yet."
He stopped speaking. We regarded each other quietly. Once the silence weighed heavy, he raised his eyebrows in a kind of "well" expression, and I began.
"I'm from California born and raised; my folks divorced when I was six; twenty two--a surfer stationed at Fort Ord. I'm a total musical slut--I love everything from Master Peronin and Chant to Christopher Rouse. I'm particularly fond of the Twentieth Century masters Schoenberg, Stravinsky, Ravel, Roussel, Szymanowski, and Bartok. I love most jazz and lots of rock n roll up to and including Jimi Hendrix and modern and classic punk. I've read most everyone you listed and I agree Flaubert and Dostoevsky suck. I'm with you on Chaucer, and I like to see Shakespeare in updated movies--like Romeo +Juliette or Richard III starring Ian McKellen--but otherwise a little bit of common-sense and asking a couple questions would make all the plays turn out okay. I love most of the visual arts because I spent most of my summers at The Getty Museum, the LA Museum of Art and various other free cultural venues and events `cause Ma was broke by that part of the month. I went to junior college on a baseball scholarship, but broke my pitching hand and lost it after a season. I learned a combination of English and French martial arts and Brazilian Ju-jitsu from my uncle--he's the only one who knows about me since he is too. I've never had a relationship shitty or otherwise and I had figured that love was a word on a greeting card . . . so far."
The later lunch crowd was pouring in, so we got up and headed out as we did so I added,
"By the way, I play the guitar and viola and sing," I said, "and as far as church goes--I'm an agnostic on my best days. My religion however, is baseball and during the off-season it is cooking and food that serves my passion. "
By this time we were seated in the truck, I dug through some of my cd's and found Faure's and Ravel's String Quartets as the music played we listened and I drove down Highway 1, south past Carmel heading to a park with trails back into the wilderness. After the finale of the Faure quartet played, Alex said,
"That tickles something in my brain--`The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere/The ceremony of innocence is drowned:/The best lack all conviction, while the worst/ Are full of passionate intensity.--W. B. Yeats, The Second Coming."
"Wow," I said, "a brain, a voice, and a hot bod--I feel so inadequate."
He smiled and asked, "Where're we goin'?"
"How do you feel about danger sex?"
"What's that?"
"Duh, sex out where we might get caught."
"I donno; it sounds hot as hell," he said, "but what if we do get caught?"
"That's what makes it so hot--hence danger sex," I said.
He ruminated in silence and I continued to drive south; we passed Point Lobos day use area--too crowded--Garrapata State Park was the same.
"Well," I intoned, "the best laid plans of mice and men . . ."
"You mean, `the best laid schemes o' mice an' men/ Gang aft angley' as the immortal Bobby Burns put it," he said with a damn fine Scot's burr.
"Okay, nobody likes a smart ass, even if they are cute."
"Whacha wanna do instead?" he asked.
"I want spend the rest of the day making love with you, but let's ditch the barracks and get a discrete motel; whatcha think o' that?"
"That sounds great," he responded. "Just let's make sure that there're no bugs--I can tolerate a whole heap of nasty, but bugs? Uh uh."
"Hear hear!" After a pause I asked, "You wanna get out of this area altogether?"
"I'd love it. Where you want to go?"
"I know a place down the coast--it's in San Simeon--called The Jade. It's a great place; quiet this time of year. Let's go grab some clothes and head out it takes a couple of hours to get there on Highway 101, then cut over to the Coast Highway at Paso Robles."
"Okay I'll grab some clothes, but I don't plan on needing them most of the time."
"Bichen!" I responded.
We headed back to barracks land and then started barreling south, out the East Garrison gate, then down the River Road to come out to101 South at Gonzales. Then continue south through some of the most boring road in western California. Just south of the end of the oil fields, we pulled off the freeway into a rest area, Dupree needed the restroom and I needed to stretch my legs--only super drawback to my truck--no cruise control. As Alex raced off to the restroom, I followed the sidewalk around the area, pausing here and there to bend and stretch. When I got to the far end of the walk, I saw a guy standing in the bushes across the entrance road to the area; there was a well-used trail next to him. He was a skinny kid with straight blond hair. I stretched and flexed, and got the reaction I expected; he gave me "the eye" slipped slowly down the trail with several looks over his shoulder. I glanced around and saw Dupree; I gave him the signal to follow me and headed into the bushes to see what was on offer.
Sure enough, there was the boy in nothing but his jockey shorts and tennis shoes.
"What's goin' on?"
"What do you want to go on soldier?" he said in a kind of femmey lisp.
"What cha wanna do?"
"I want to get your dick hard and have you fuck me `til come squirts out my nose."
"I love a boy that knows what he wants," Dupree said from the edge of the little clearing, "You gonna do both of us?"
The boy looked shocked for a moment, but then smiled and said, "sure."
Dupree gave me a wink, and in three quick strides was across the clearing; his left hand swept up and grabbed the kid by the neck and forced his head down to his crotch.
"On your knees bitch! You best have the head of my dick at the back of your throat before you take another breath."
In a flurry the boy had Dupree's pants open and his long pale cock in his mouth and down his throat in a blur.
"Oh fuck yeah, that's the shit," Dupree growled as the boy worked to get him hard. He jerked his head at me and ordered, "Get over here and get some of this."
Who am I to argue with the "voice of command"? I stepped over and was already boned up--it's totally fuckin' hot to see your would-be boyfriend get head from a slut in the woods! At least it was at the time.
The boy shifted his mouth to me, and took me all the way to my short n' curlies in slurp, and the licked at my balls!
"Got damn!" I gasped, "fuck!"
The boy continued to work my dick, then Alex yanked his head back around to his dick.
"Get it good and wet boy. You getting' fucked. Das it, yeah!"
Dupree pulled his dick away from the boy's mouth, and grabbed the boy's shirt from the ground and stepped behind him
"You get your mouth back on my boy's cock now bitch."
The boy got back on my dick jus at I heard cloth rip (the boy's drawers) and Dupree spit into his hand and slime up his dick. He spit into the boy's crack twice, swabbed around with the head of his dick and located the whole.
"You ready Bitch? Here it comes." With a savage jab Dupree slammed his entire length balls deep into the boy's hole, and started fucking. The boy impaled his throat on my dick and gagged himself; I stepped back as he spewed, and shoved my dick right back in his mouth as soon as gasped a breath. The boy was getting fucked--spit roasted--and I was thoroughly enjoying myself when Dupree said,
"Let's switch this boy got a good ass."
Once again who was I to argue, but rather than us stepping around the boy, Dupree unplugged from his ass and spun him around and had his dick in the boy's throat--I spit on my hand, swabbed my cock, and slammed into the boy's ass. We kept in this position for a few minutes then Dupree switched us back. I was getting close, so I grabbed the boy's head and skull fucked him for all I was worth and then nutted in the boy's throat. I came like a gusher and overwhelmed the boy--He gagged, and I was slow to let go of his head; he coughed, and cum literally shot out of his nose! I almost fell over backwards when I saw that. As soon as I was clear, Dupree shoved the boy's face into the dirt and fucked him like a dog in heat for another minute or two, then his body trembled and jerked.
"Oh fuck! Shit, fuck!" he gasped. He pulled out of the boy's ass, grabbed up his T-shirt and wiped his dick with it. He tossed it to me and I did the same and then dropped it to the ground and put my shit away. Dupree stepped across and was next to me, as we turned and walked away, Dupree called over his shoulder,
"Thanks bitch, see ya."
That's it for this installment. I promise I'll get them to the motel and in each other's . . . you know. Thanks for reading this story, as I say more will come soon. Remember though, without Nifty I've no place to publish these stories and you, dear reader, would have no place to read them. If you can, give a few bucks to Nifty please do and keep them up and operating so my Fellow authors can keep you "up" so to speak.
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