Bad Boy 4

by Jamie Lake

  “Oh, that’s good,” Chip said, but the tone in his voice made Peter feel like maybe he didn’t really think so.

  Peter looked around the spacious but humble home. It looked like they hadn’t changed the furniture probably since Chip was a kid, but it was clean, if not a little cluttered. The walls were lined with the heads of wildlife, from elk to wild goats to trout. Nothing like what Peter was used to. He'd grown up in the city and his house had been furnished with modern things, such as art on the walls. They had tons of bookshelves with leather-bound law books. But he wasn't in the city now.

  “You thirsty, Peter?” his mother asked him.

  “Oh, no. I’m fine,” Peter said, politely conjuring up a nervous smile. He put his hands behind his back to wipe his sweaty palms on his jeans. Though the home was warm and welcoming, he felt out of place, as though he stuck out like a sore thumb. It just added to his anxiety.

  “Good, I’ll fix you something to drink. What do you like beer or something harder?”

  “Oh, just water, thank you,” Peter said, shaking his head, minding his manners. He didn't want to get sauced, considering what sort of evening it was likely to be, no matter how much his nerves would have appreciated a good, stiff drink.

  “Good, I’ll get you some whiskey,” she said, not listening to a word he said. His mother bustled off into the kitchen, humming loudly to herself.

  “We’re going to the bathroom to wash up, Ma,” Chip said, leading Peter down the hall.

  “All right, son,” she called from the kitchen.

  “There’s two things you’ll notice about my mom,” Chip whispered, “There’s your way and then there’s the right way.”

  “I heard that!” she said.

  “I love you, Ma!” Chip said, a big grin plastered on his face.

  “I bet,” she grunted. “Where the fuck is that father of yours? I told him to be back by noon. It’s almost lunch time.” She tsk'd and shook her head.

  “We’ll get him after we wash up,” Chip said. He lead Peter around the corner to the cramped bathroom with barely enough room to step in, let alone wash up.

  “Wash all the way up to your elbows,” Chip instructed. “Believe me, my mom will check. And she doesn’t care that she just met you either.”

  Peter smiled. This was hilarious. He took a long relaxing breath. He did exactly as instructed, wanting to make a good impression. He scrubbed until the soap was bubbling and frothy, all the way up to his elbows. He made sure to wash under his nails.

  “You all right?” Chip asked, biting his bottom lip. He looked so nervous. Peter felt sorry for him.

  “Are you?” Peter challenged.

  “Trying,” Chip said.

  “So, how are you going to break it to them?” Peter asked, drying his hands on a fluffy, cornflower blue towel. He checked his reflection in the mirror, making sure he still looked nice.

  “I’ll have to go with the flow. The moment will present itself,” Chip grunted, drying off his hands next. Peter didn't think that was a particularly good idea. Just waiting. What if that perfect moment never came? He waffled between trying to catch his breath and relaxing to freaking out completely and having a nervous breakdown.

  “What if Johnny says something?” Peter asked, trying to think of everything.

  “Shit, I didn’t even think about that,” Chip said panicking. He ran his hands over his face and groaned. He began to sweat, his hands shaking. Peter frowned in sympathy and put his arm around his shoulders. He leaned up and kissed his cheek, trying to reassure and comfort him. He wanted Chip to know he was there for him, just like he'd been there for Peter, no matter what.

  “Just keep his mouth stuffed with food and change the subject until you’re ready to talk about it, and that should keep him busy for awhile,” Peter suggested, trying his best to think of something to keep Johnny, who had a bit of a big mouth, occupied, so he wouldn't spill the beans first.

  “How did you … you know, tell your parents?” Chip asked, clearly still very, very nervous.

  “Well, it wasn’t … it didn’t exactly go the way I'd planned, to be honest,” Peter answered. He sighed sadly and lowered his head. He hated thinking about it, about when he came out to his folks. It hadn't gone well at all.

  “What do you mean?” Chip asked.

  Peter scrubbed the soap hard into his hands and elbows as he thought back to the unpleasant memories. He decided to wash his hands twice, just to be safe. The last thing he needed was to screw up on that and disappoint Chip's mother. “Well, they kind of caught me … um…” He trailed off, face going beet red.

  “Jerking off?” Chip asked chuckling. He looked Peter over as though he were imagining just that. Peter laughed lightly too, shaking his head at him.

  “No, worse. I was really active in the chat rooms back then. This was back when AOL was popular, and I guess I stepped out of the room and my mom and dad came in and saw what I had written on the screen ...” Peter broke off and sucked in a breath, remembering his shame and humiliation coupled with his parents' shock. It still turned his stomach this very day. He sometimes wished he could forget all about it.

  “Oh shit,” Chip said, as if he were living the moment with him. He winced and patted Peter on the arm, trying to be comforting.

  “Yeah, it was that bad, worse actually. My dad didn’t talk to me for three weeks straight, and my mom, she just sort of said it might be better if I spent a few days away from the house.” Peter was surprised at how much that still hurt. How his throat went tight and aching and how his eyes stung. This had happened a long while ago, and it shouldn't bother him as much as it did, but he couldn't help it.

  “You mean, they kicked you out?” Chip asked, his eyes wide. His hand was on his arm again, smoothing up and down in soothing, petting motions. Peter nodded, trying not to feel sorry for himself. He told himself it was all water under the bridge. But try as he might, it still hurt him so badly.

  “In so many words, yeah.” Peter said, “That’s why. This is kind of difficult for me. I know it’s hard for you, but it’s like I’m reliving this. But I’m here for you, baby. I’ll be right by your side, no matter what.” Peter nodded, pushing away the dark thoughts and blinking away his tears. He had to be here for Chip. He couldn't run anymore. He had to face all of his demons head-on. He'd let Tony walk all over him because he ran from things, because he just couldn't face up to some of the harder challenges. Well, he was going to face them now, with Chip by his side.

  “I appreciate that,” Chip said, sincerely, squeezing Peter's arm gently.

  “IF you say your family is so open-minded, why didn’t you just tell them years ago?” Peter asked, as he dried his hands off with the towel, but it was wet and he needed another.

  “Well, maybe open-minded isn’t exactly the best word to describe them. It’s more like they don’t give a fuck about anything except for hunting and fishing. I don’t even know if they know what gay is.”

  Peter laughed, shaking his head. This family was too much! He wasn't used to their type at all.

  “No, seriously,” Chip said, shutting off the water and handing Peter a towel. “Let’s just get through this.” He stole a quick, private kiss before strolling back into the kitchen.

  CHAPTER 11

  Peter couldn’t understand what the fuss was. Sitting at the dinner table with his parents and brothers didn’t seem to be all that bad: everyone was nice and polite, but Chip seemed to be a little on edge. He sat ram-rod straight in his chair and jiggled his foot under the table. He fiddled and fussed with his napkin and silverware. He just seemed so nervous.

  Peter strategically sat across from Chip so that it wouldn’t cause too many suspicions. He knew how nerve-racking it was for him as it was, and he didn’t want to make it any worse. He remembered the awful talk he'd had to have with his parents: the way his father looked at him as though the very sight of Peter was repugnant. They'd shouted at him and his mother had cried. He wished he could've come out t
o his parents this way. It was much more calm, much more friendly. He wished he could hold Chip's hand to help him.

  Johnny was talking up a storm as usual, and his grandfather, a slightly balding but ruggedly handsome man who seemed like a man of few words, was listening. Chip looked a lot like him and Peter was glad, because as Chip got older, he likely wouldn’t lose any of his looks either.

  Peter enjoyed the talk around the table. The family seemed nice and cordial, and he thought that once they got Chip's coming out, out of the way, they would all get along really well.

  His two brothers were much shorter and fatter than Chip. They didn’t exactly have his social graces, and were pretty loud and boisterous. Still, Peter liked them. He liked the whole family and felt welcomed. It didn't hurt that the homemade ravioli was amazing.

  “So, Peter, tell us about yourself,” his mother said, breaking the silence of mouths chomping and smacking.

  “Oh, well, I’m a teacher. A kindergarten teacher,” Peter said. Normally, he would've beamed with pride, but he felt a little bad even saying he was a teacher, considering he was currently suspended.

  “He’s my teacher,” Johnny bragged, jutting out his little chin.

  “Oh, wow. You’re Johnny’s teacher?” his mother said. “I hope that he’s a good student.”

  “He is,” Peter smiled, “when he’s on his best behavior.” Peter reached over and ruffled Johnny's hair.

  “I am!” Johnny said, bouncing in his seat.

  “Grandson, don’t talk when the grown-ups are talking,” Chip’s father grumbled.

  “Yes, sir,” Johnny said, frowning, with his lower lip sticking out in a pout.

  “Yeah, he is,” Peter said, giving Johnny a wink.

  “And so, that’s how you two met?” his mother asked, her eyes switching back and forth between Peter and Chip as she took a quick bite.

  “Woman, that’s what the man just said,” his father snapped.

  “Lord,” Chip said under his breath, “here we go.” Chip shook his head and groaned.

  “I was just asking a question,” his mother said. “Jeez. Can’t I ask a freaking question around here?” She sounded comically exasperated.

  “Can’t you see I’m trying to eat here?” Chip’s brother Ben said, with his mouth full, “Can’t I enjoy my freaking meal?”

  “Don’t talk to your mother like that,” his father barked.

  “I ain’t talking to her like nothing,” Ben said.

  “Can I have some more biscuits?” his other brother Paul said, with a belch.

  His mother groaned, “At the dinner table? Really, Paul?”

  “What?” Paul asked as if he’d done nothing.

  “We have a guest,” she said, sighing.

  “So what?” he said.

  “Jesus Christ!” His father said, slamming his fist down on the table. “You can’t even act fucking civilized for one meal.”

  Peter looked at Chip, embarrassed for him. He only shrugged as if to say, “Told you so.” Meanwhile, as his family continued to bicker back and forth, Chip motioned for Peter to follow him away from the table, and after checking to see if Johnny was okay, he led him to the outside balcony.

  “Wooh,” Chip said, combing his fingers through his hair as he took a long breath.

  “I see what you mean,” Peter chuckled. They were a lively bunch, that was for sure.

  “I’m sorry about all that,” Chip apologized.

  “They are who they are,” Peter said, moving closer to Chip as he leaned over the railing.

  “Yeah, they certainly are,” Chip chuckled.

  “So, I’m guessing today is not probably the best coming out time,” Peter teased.

  “No, probably not, but I’ll do it, I will. We’ll only be here a couple of days more, so it’ll come up in discussion one way or another.”

  “Good, I’m ... I’m honored,” Peter said.

  “Honored?” Chip questioned.

  “That you would choose me to meet your family. It means a lot to me, a lot. I don’t really have any family anymore you know, so...”

  Chip squeezed Peter’s shoulder, “We’re your family now.”

  “Thank you,” Peter said, looking at Chip with a twinkle in his eye.

  “You have no idea,” Chip said, shaking his head.

  “What?” Peter said.

  “How hard it is for me not to kiss you right here, right now,” Chip said with a smile.

  “That’s it? That’s all you want to do?” Peter said, leaning back on the rail flirtatiously. A blush colored and warmed his face as he licked his lips. He'd give anything for one of Chip's kisses.

  “Don’t tempt me,” Chip said, “looking so sexy like that.”

  “Tempt you to do what?” Peter flirted. He played coy and innocent, but they both knew that he was anything but.

  “Bend you over this rail right here, pull those fucking pants down, and fuck your hole,” Chip said, his voice lowering into a groan.

  “I dare you,” Peter said, his own voice rough with sudden, sharp desire.

  “Oh, you don’t want to do that,” Chip said.

  “Why not?” Peter teased.

  “‘Cause then I’d have to do it. I just want to get on my knees right now and eat your sweet ass all night.”

  Peter’s cock was getting hard at the thought. He turned the other way and leaned over so his ass stuck out more. He imagined what Chip would do to him, and how wild it would drive him, and he had to bite his bottom lip to keep from crying out.

  “This old thing?” Peter said coquettishly.

  “Goddamn, please don’t do that,” Chip said, trying not to look. He cleared his throat and adjusted his pants.

  “Why not?” Peter said.

  “Cause I’m so fucking horny right now, I’m about to explode in my pants,” he begged.

  “So if I did this,” Peter said, squeezing his cheeks together visibly, “that would be off limits?”

  “Fuck, I’m warning you,” Chip said.

  “... or this...” Peter said, flicking the back of his pants so that the crack of his ass showed for a second.

  “Peter, baby, I’m serious. Something you have to understand about me: when I get horny, I become....”

  “What ....?” Peter asked, daring him to go on.

  “Kind of like an animal. I don’t have a lot of control. I'll just tear that ass apart and have you screaming. So, please, not now. I’m begging you.”

  Peter liked the power of seduction he had over Chip; to see such a strong man under his control. He grabbed Chip’s thick, hard cock quickly through his pants, gave him a few teasing strokes and then turned away.

  “Okay,” Peter said, but not before Chip pulled him by the hand.

  “Come here,” Chip instructed, making sure no one saw him leading Peter down the steps. Once down the steps the lawn yielded to some thick underbrush and finally into some woods.

  “Where are we going?” Peter asked.

  Chip pulled him through a patch of trees to the back shed where he slammed Peter against it and before he could say “Amen,” pulled Peter’s pants down.

  “Goddamn,” Chip said, looking at Peter’s gorgeous bubble butt. “Fuck man, why do you gotta do this to me?”

  Peter gasped as Chip got down on his knees, true to his word, spread Peter’s cheeks apart, and stuck his tongue through his hole.

  “Oh, my God,” Peter said, as Chip’s wet, cool, talented tongue slid its way deep inside him.

  The force of his mouth and the way he devoured each cheek like it was his favorite flavor of ice cream turned Peter on to no end. He put his hands flat on the shed and arched his back until his chest pressed up against the rough wood. He spread his legs wide, his jeans pooled around his ankles.

  Chip continued to lap at his asshole, his hand cupping his balls and rolling them in his palm. He could feel the saliva drip down to coat his sack, and his eyes rolled back. He adored it when Chip ate his ass. His tongue slipped back in
side his tight pucker, wriggling and writhing inside him. Feeling so turned on he could barely stand it, Peter reached down to jerk himself.

  Chip drew back and gave his ass a sharp swat. "No. No touching," he warned. When Peter teasingly tried again, Chip moved away from him. He heard the bushes rustle and then he felt a sharp sting against his backside. Alarmed, Peter looked over his shoulder.

  In Chip's hand was a willow switch. The thin wood was still green, and he smacked it into his palm. "Bad boys get punished," Chip said.

  He struck Peter's ass again sharply with the thin branch. The pain was sudden and sharp, but it brought with it a wave of pleasure. He groaned again, arching his back further. It felt so good, so naughty. He wanted another swat, so he reached down between his legs to grip his dick. Chip predictably gave him another, but then he tossed the switch away and dropped to his knees once more. He lavished his tongue over the lash marks on Peter's pert ass, licking and kissing the red marks there. It took the sting away and filled Peter with nothing but pleasure.

  His tongue delved between his ass cheeks again, and this time, Chip took Peter's dick in his hand and slowly pumped him while his tongue pushed into his rim.

  "Fuck," Peter breathed, before biting his bottom lip. He wanted to scream, to cry out, but he didn't want to get caught, so he stifled his sounds of pleasure.

  Chip's tongue darted in and out rapidly, swirling around the hole before delving back inside. He nearly brought Peter to orgasm this way, teasing him relentlessly. But just before he came, Chip stopped, stood, and went into the shed.

  "Don't you dare move," Chip called out, and Peter decided to behave himself this time.

  He remained still as Chip rummaged around in the shed, clearly looking for something. Peter tingled in anticipation, wondering what it could be. He couldn't even make any guesses.

  Chip returned and before Peter could say or do anything, he wrapped a rough piece of cloth around his eyes. Peter chuckled breathily, his pulse racing with excitement. Once blindfolded, he felt something sharp, though not too sharp, scrape along his ass cheeks and against his back. It was three-pronged...a hand rake? He was pretty sure that's what it was, but he couldn't be certain. He felt something thick and warm drip down the small of his back and between the cheeks of his ass. He could smell it, whatever the liquid was. It smelled sweet and was so thick.