Reunions (Part 2)
[Pictured: Brent’s father, Trent, in the garage on the family compound.]
Each year there were two Taylor family reunions–one for each gender, held in different places. The woman’s reunion was held at the Holiday Inn at Marysville, and was generally a calmer affair than the men’s reunion at the old family farm. Grandpa Buck (everyone called his Gramps even though most were related in other fashions) had left the farm to a family trust, as a home to any and all of his sons and male progeny, and the number of Taylor men who lived there throughout the year grew steadily, until it sustained a population of fifty year round. For the reunion proper, the numbers swelled to nearly three hundred. The oldest were given spaces in the old farmhouse, which had now been expanded multiple times into a large complex of rooms and annexes. The young boys were given the loft in the barn. Everyone else brought camping gear and pitched their tents on the main four acre pasture, flanked by dense woods on three sides, and the highway on the fourth. It took until the third day for everyone to arrive, but it was on the second day that Aaron noticed the ebb and flow of men in and out of a dense thicket to the south, with the most traffic in the evening. He thought about it all day while keeping Brent company in the barn, but out the loft window he watched them go back and forth, and when he went off for dinner, he instead delved into the thicket.
He sucked two raunchy cocks in rapid succession, and then grabbed some steaks for him and Brent. He ate quickly, and then went back to the thicket, and didn’t return until after midnight. The next day he abandoned Brent entirely, spending almost the entire day in the thicket with the men flowing in and out, and his reputation as a skilled sucker spread through the camp by that afternoon. He was forced to create an alibi–becoming a third cousin to everyone his age, and a distant nephew to everyone older, but by and large he avoided pairing faces to cocks for his own safety. The only cock and face he would remember arrived in the heat of the afternoon lull, a thickset man blundering into the brush–obviously a newbie, and Aaron ambushed him, pulled out his cock, and swallowed it down before the older man could even ask. In the midst, Aaron heard the man mutter, “Fuck you suck better than my fuckin’ wife, just like everyone said. I was gonna tromp in here and beat your ass, but fuck…fuck, I don’t…I mean–how’s that hole of yours, boy?”
He assumed it was just talk. He sucked down the man’s load, and was surprised when he crouched down, breath stinking of cigars, giving Aaron a clear view off his face. “I asked how your hole is, boy.”
Aaron wasn’t sure how to answer–would an affirmative scare him off or entice him? Would playing coy seem endearing or hesitant, would a no make him seem scared or hard to–
“The garage, three in the morning, I’ll be hard as hell and waiting for you.”
One sloppy kiss, and then he was gone. Three in the morning–that was fucking hours from now.
Time didn’t pass in the lazy, sweltering evening, and back in the pasture, he discovered that Brent was out looking for him. With his alibi in place, all he could do was dodge him as best as he could or put himself in a precarious position. He did see Brent get into a shouting match with an older man smoking a cigar, who matched the description Brent had given of his father, Trent. It wasn’t until Aaron had circled around to get into earshot that he saw the face was the same man who’d promised to fuck him that night.
“This is for family only, boy! What the fuck do you think you’re doing, bringing a stranger here?”
“He wanted to come along! I don’t see what the big deal is–all you fucking do is sit around and get wasted all week anyway.”
“Just because you packed yourself off to some fancy college don’t mean I can’t still bend you over for a paddling, shithead.”
“Look, if you see him, just tell him to come find me.”
“If I see him I’m gonna kick his ass to the road!”
Brent puffed himself up for a retort, but instead turned around and stomped off back to the barn loft. Aaron felt bad for abandoning him like this, but he wasn’t sure if he felt bad enough to go see him.
“Hey, Cousin Aaron!” a voice said behind him, and he turned to find two burly roughneck brothers he though he remembered sucking off in the bushes that morning. “Uncle Marty’s got some ribs on the grill. You hungry?”
“Hell yeah,” Aaron said, but checked over his shoulder to make sure Brent was gone before following his cousins for dinner. They fed him dessert in the thicket, but even then it was only dusk, and nervous, he started drinking beers, getting drunker than he’d intended before midnight.
Few people were still partying in the open, but the bushes were rustling even though the wind was still. Aaron sat up in a chair next to a cooling grill as men had peeled away to return to their tents or sneak off for their own time. Alone, he checked his watch nearly every minute, and at quarter till three he slipped past snoring tents and over to the country house proper. Around the side of the garage a side door was propped open–inside through a haze of smoke he saw Brent’s dad, shirt unbuttoned to the waist of his jeans, waiting for him.
He was on his knees, face pushed against that firm, hairy gut. The air in the garage was stuffy and still held in all the heat from the day, pulling the sweat out of them both, their scent mingling with the smell of sawdust and diesel.
“Get up, fuckin’ get up, man.”
Trent yanked him up by the collar and kissed him, his tongue explored Aaron’s entire face, the cigar spit coating and mucking his eyes and nose, but he was so hard he didn’t care, he yanked off the flannel shirt and pulled him close, rubbing his smooth belly against the man’s thick gut. Trent pulled off Aaron’s shirt, one hand squeezing down the front of Aaron’s jeans, groping his cock, dragging him over to a sawhorse and bending Aaron over it, letting him drop his pants and briefs, and then Brent’s dad gave Aaron’s hole the same slobbery treatment, eating him out hungrily for close to half an hour, shoving his tongue deeper each time, Aaron moaning and pushing back and opening up for him, so that when he’d finally eaten enough of the boy’s hole, his cock slid right in all the way up to the hilt, and he licked his bearded lips as he rammed it in deeper with each thrust.
Aaron’s head was fuzzy with the smoke now. He couldn’t seem to get a full breath into his lungs, he couldn’t seem to keep his heart from racing away in his ears. Trent started jacking him off as he fucked, but his grip was too tight and he jerked too slow to do much for him. Still, the cock head grinding up against his prostate sent him over the edge in due time, spraying his cum all over the concrete floor.
Trent cuddled with Aaron on a beat up couch for a while. They shared a cigar, but didn’t say much. Aaron left the garage not too long after that, with the early summer dawn tinging the sky and dimming the stars, and he crept back up to the barn loft. Brent was awake, but he said nothing to him as his friend slipped into the sleeping bag next to him, facing away. What was there to say? He didn’t want to know where he’d been going the past couple of days, he didn’t want to know. He felt betrayed. The next morning, when Aaron sensed that Brent was unhappy not just with the reunion but with him, but instead of trying to console him he abandoned him again and dove back into the thicket. Trent was in the garage every night after their first fuck and their sessions grew increasingly longer, until the final night they fucked from dusk until well past the roosters had crowed.
Aaron finally returned to the loft, stinking of smoke and sex and booze. Brent was already packed, and waited in silence for his friend to throw his gear together so they could leave. Aaron started for the car, but Brent told him he needed to say goodbye to his father before leaving, and suggested Aaron meet him before they left.
“That’s really, I mean, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Just real quick. If I don’t say goodbye he’ll beat my ass later.”
Trent and Brent had a short, terse conversation, his father more dismissive and gruff than Aaron had seen earlier, and Brent stormed off. Aaron realized Trent had driven him away on purpose, when Trent got close to him, breath hot.
“So you’re my faggot son’s roommate?”
“Yeah, I mean, but…”
“Where you livin’ this summer? Never had a hole as nice as yours, and my bitch wife won’t give me anal. Gonna divorce the cunt this month, ‘n I’ll need a place to park my dick.”
“I mean, look, I just…do you think it’s a good idea, I mean–”
Trent pulled Aaron close and gave him a deep kiss. “Next month, I’ll be livin’ here. Bitch can keep the trailer, I want you. Come stay with me, ‘nephew’. We’ll have a nice time.”
The two hour drive back to the city was silent. Aaron couldn’t seem to slow his breathing the whole way there, and Brent couldn’t drag anything out of him. He’d ruined it, his one friendship, Brent thought. No, his family had ruined it, somehow, just like everything else. Everything was broken. You only assume things are whole because you discover the cracks long after the damage has already been done.
For anyone interested, I’m on twitter now. You can find me @WesleyBracken.