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This story is a follow up of two stories previously published on .com titled “Lake Encounters Ch. 01” and “Lake Encounters Ch.02.”
Two years later.
Carey sat in the window of the neighborhood coffee shop, Brew-Skis and sipped on an iced coffee. Fortunately, the hot August sun was beating down on the stores across the street. Even so, he could feel the heat coming off the window next to him. He stared at his reflection in the window glass. 20 years old. 5’10,” 140 pounds. A little older now but still slender guy bordering on skinny even though he ate anything and everything. Fair skin indicative of his Anglo/Irish/Danish/Scottish/mutt background. Light brown, kind of taupe-ish, cut short and neat, parted on the side. Hair slightly over the ears, short bangs. Brown eyes. Fine features. A wider nose but still not very big. Thin lips. Narrow square jaw. No beard. In fact, hardly any body hair at all except on his legs. Light, mid-range voice.
About to enter his junior year, Carey had decided to come home for the summer. Not home exactly, but to his home town. He’d sublet a small apartment instead of living at home. Nothing against his parents; he just needed some space. He’d come into some money so he didn’t really need to work. Just for something to do, he had taken a job at a pinball arcade just down the street.
Absentmindedly, he clicked from one social media app to another.
Bang! Just like that, Apollo jumped into the chair across from him.
“Fuck! Would you stop doing that?” Carey yelled.
It had been two years since he had met Apollo, first on boulevard median where his father had been panhandling while he sat slumped on the ground. Later, those sexually charged encounters at the lake. One, where Apollo was nearly raped by an older man. The other, an erotically charged encounter where they shared some mutual self-pleasure.
Carey had given up hope that he would ever see him again. But, here he was.
That same skinny kid, the one who claimed to be 18 at the time and was supposedly 20 now. Hair still long, literally dirty blond and greasy, still falling in that sexy way across his face. Pale skin, narrow almond shaped eyes, thin lips, pointed chin. Today’s outfit consisted of a pair of weathered cargo shorts, worn and ripped canvas shoes, and a soiled white tank with red trim, deep armholes. The other thing that was still the same was that scornful, smart ass expression on his face.
“What’s shakin’ bacon?” he said, ignoring Carey’s four letter greeting.
“Where have you been?”
“Around?”
“Around? Ya know your dad came to my house looking for you.”
A momentary look of surprise. “Ya? Well…I’ve been…around.”
Carey smirked. His mind raced back to the afternoon at the lake. That whole thing, jerking off together, had been insane but also kind of sweet. He felt an immediate twitch between his legs.
Apollo swiveled to look up at the menu board above the counter. “What are ya gonna buy me today?”
Smirking again, Carey got up and motioned for Apollo to follow him up to the counter.
“What can I get ya?” It was that cute barista who had taken Carey’s original order. He smiled. It was the same twinkly smile he’d given Carey when he first came in. Carey hadn’t remembered seeing him before but he took further notice now. Good looking, slender and a little taller than Carey, long dark hair styled in a bowl cut, kind of like Justin Bieber. Although it was tousled, it look like each hair had been carefully placed across his forehead and over his ears. Thick eyebrows, full lips, and crystal clear blue eyes.
“I’ll have a…” Apollo studied the menu. “Iced Mocha.”
“Ok. Anything else?”
“Ya…um. One of those turkey croissants and a bag of chips.” Apollo looked at Carey for approval. Turning back to the barista, “And a ham and cheese sandwich and another bag of chips.”
Carey dug out his credit card and pushed it into the card reader. In short order, the sandwiches were readied and the Mocha was made. Holding the bag and sucking on the drink through a straw, Apollo followed Carey back to the table.
As Carey looked on, Apollo unwrapped one of the sandwiches and tore into it.
Carey sighed, “How long has it been this time?”
“Yesterday.” Apollo said as he chewed. Meaning, it had been a day since he’d last eaten.
Carey just watched him. “Are you still on the streets?” Chewing. No response. How does a kid like this get by, he asked himself?
“Where are you staying?” Apollo just glared at Carey. Then he turned his head and looked out the window. Carey thought, how does he cope with the anxiety of being homeless, not knowing when he’s going to eat, or where he’s going to sleep?
After the sandwich had mostly disappeared, Apollo’s chewing slowed. He took a satisfied breath in and out and smiled at Carey as he wiped the food out of the inside of his mouth with a finger.
Carey looked at Apollo appraisingly. “Were you looking for me?”
Apollo smiled istanbul travesti at Carey as he peaked at him over the top of the cup of Mocha he was finishing off. Chuckling, “Ha!”
“So, I’m today’s food source?” Carey was getting pissed off.
“Well, I wasn’t lookin’ for ya just for food,” Apollo lightly giggled.
Apollo blushed a little. He squinted at Carey through the hair that had fallen across his face. Carey noticed the deep armhole of his tank had shifted so Apollo’s armpit and a bit of his right nipple were showing. Small and pink. Tiny blue veins traced their way across the part of his chest that was visible.
“What for, then?” Carey teased. He felt his cock stiffen.
Apollo brought his knee up and rested his foot on the edge of the chair. He nibbled on his knee cap.
“I dunno.” A long pause. Another smile, blue eyes twinkling. “I sorta like you.”
Their eyes locked. Nothing was said for a moment. Then, Apollo brought his foot back down to the floor, kicked his shoes off, and slumped down a bit in the chair. By this time, Carey’s cock was pushing up toward the waist of his pants. Apollo put his right foot up on Carey’s chair, pushing his legs apart. Carey couldn’t move. Apollo slumped a bit more and pushed the bottom of his foot right up against Carey’s cock.
“I thought we could hang out and…you know,” Apollo said quietly, almost in a whisper.
“Ohhh….that!” Carey responded as if it had just occurred to him.
Apollo pushed his foot harder into Carey’s crotch as he wiggled his toes. Carey’s vision started to fog. Staring straight into his eyes, Apollo smirked knowingly.
“Ya know kid…” The words were having trouble coming out. He was instantly at the brink of orgasm. Apollo put his hands behind his head and smiled at Carey. With his pits showing along with that one cute nipple, Apollo continued pushing and stroking with his foot. Carey was going nuts. It was silent for a moment.
Just then, Apollo glanced to the side. The barista was clearing a nearby table. He could clearly see everything that was going on. Involuntarily, Apollo sat up with a jerk, put his arms down, and dropped his foot to the floor.
Looking out the window to avoid the barista’s stare, he asked, “Do you know what time it is?”
His heart still beating wildly in his chest, Carey looked down at his phone and replied, “About 1:30.”
“Well, I havta go.” He sucked down the last of his drink and said, “See ya around.” Not even a thank you. Standing up, he grabbed the bag with the rest of the food. Carey was speechless. As quickly as he’d landed in the chair, he was out the door.
Carey let out a deep sigh and tipped his drink up to finish it off. The barista was suddenly right next to him.
“Can I take this away?” He asked pointing to Apollo’s now empty drink.
“Sure.” He tried to collect his thoughts. That guy had definitely played him or, rather, played with him. And…I liked it, he smiled to himself.
“Ya know, today’s Wednesday. And, on Wednesday’s, we give free refills,” the barista said.
“Really? I never knew that.”
“Well, that’s because I just made it up,” the barista grinned. “I was just trying to think of a way to keep you here so I could talk to you.”
Carey laughed. Looking first up to his handsome face and then dropping his eyes to the name tag on his chest, he said, “Why, thanks Randy! I’m flattered!” For a brief moment, they just stared at each other. “Oh! My name’s Carey.” They shook hands.
“Let me get you that refill.”
As he walked away, Carey couldn’t help but look at his narrow but well rounded butt. Hmmm he said to himself. He scratched an itch behind his ear.
When he came back with his refill, Randy said, “I know who you are.”
“No. I didn’t know about that. You’ll have to give me the details. I meant, I know you work at the pinball arcade. I’ve seen you in there.” Carey nodded. “And, I know you’re home for the summer and you’re in school.”
“How do you know that?”
“The other guy who works there. Wally is it? He told me.”
Carey laughed. “Wally gets coffee? I thought he only drank Diet Mountain Dew.”
“No. I stopped in one day when you weren’t there and asked him.”
“Oh.” This was getting interesting, Carey thought.
Randy just stood there. They were both silent for a moment as they looked at each other. “Hey! Would you ever want to hang out?”
“Sure!” Carey answered enthusiastically. Too enthusiastically?
“I’m going over to a friend’s house tonight to check out his sound system.” Carey looked at him quizzically. “Ah…he’s an audiophile. You know, majorly into music and stuff.”
“Oh, I get it. Sure, why not?”
“Great! How about if I pick you up at like 8:00?”
“Um…ok…I live…”
“I know where you live. Around the corner, right?”
Carey was stunned for a moment. “Ya,” he smiled at Randy. Feeling a little self-conscious, he got up to leave. They looked at each other. Carey extended istanbul travestileri his hand, “Well, I guess I’ll see ya later.”
Randy took his hand with a quick shake and with another bright smile said, “You can count on it.”
Carey left with his refreshed iced coffee. As he did, he felt his ass blushing. It was as if Randy was checking him out the same way he had checked him out just before.
***
As 8:00 approached, Carey looked expectantly out the window. The street was quiet until a silver car turned the corner and the lights flashed off and on.
Earlier, Carey showered after he got home. As he watched the water stream down his chest and stomach, his eyes came to rest on his rising and thickening cock. He imagined his mouth opening as his lips surrounded Randy’s smooth cock. He sucked it so hard he gagged when it hit the back of his throat. He brushed a finger against the underside of his own cock. In an instant he felt like he was going to cum. Save it, he thought. I might need that for later.
He wore a tight ribbed long sleeve t-shirt that hugged his flat chest. Looking in the mirror, the shirt revealed a nice curve from his narrow waist to his hips. He wished his pecs had more definition although his nipples, barely visible as they made small points on the front of his shirt, made him look cute and sexy.
Carey ran out the front door of the apartment and jumped into Randy’s car.
“Nice ride!” He said as he admired the sleek dashboard of the late model Beemer.
Randy laughed. “Don’t worry. I’m not some spoiled rich kid. This is the ‘rents.” Smiling with a twinkle in his eyes, “I’m a REALLY spoiled rich kid!” Carey chuckled.
On the way, they traded some basics about each other. Randy was 18 having just graduated from a nearby swanky private school. Carey was born and raised locally. Randy’s family had moved to town three years ago after his father was appointed president of one of the area’s largest manufacturers. Carey was about to enter his junior year at a college in the city; Randy was taking a year off. He had been able to defer his acceptance to a prestigious university.
Six months back packing in Europe was just on the horizon. In the meantime, Randy’s parents had made a passing attempt to make him buckle down and do something. Anything. The job at Brew-Skis seem to mollify them.
Randy smirked, “It’s not like they’re making me do road construction.” Carey laughed.
Carey was an only child. Randy had a sister, eight years older, who was a lawyer in the city. She had a serious guy friend. Recently, she had announced with confidence that he was “the one.”
Fifteen minutes later they rolled up to a modest, late 20th Century split level house. After the hot August day, the night air felt perfectly cool as they walked up to the front door, lit by two large lantern like sconces on either side of the door. A few seconds after Randy rang the bell, the door swung open and they were greeted enthusiastically.
“Randy!” The man shouted. Grabbing Carey’s hand and shaking it, he said, “Hi! I’m Drain,” in a rich tenor voice.
After a brief pause, Carey asked, “What did you say your name was?”
“Drain.”
Carey looked at him with a sudden recognition. “You mean as in Brain Drain?!”
“Ya-a-a-a!” Drain squealed as he nodded. “Come on in!”
Stepping through the door, Carey exclaimed, “Hey, man! I listen to you everyday!” Drain and Randy just smiled.
“The Brain Drain” was by far and away the most popular morning show on local radio. Drain’s 2-hour show was almost all talk, interspersed with lots of commercials, as well as brief mentions of the news, traffic, and weather. No music. He used it as a platform to make fun of politicians, movie stars, and just regular people. He’d begin a segment by reading a statement, quote, or some new policy initiative followed by spending the next several minutes in a full rant about how ridiculous it was and how idiotic the people were he was talking about. It was hilarious. Underneath it all, it made sense most of the time. The punchline at the end of each segment was accompanied by the sound of water gurgling down a drain. Depending on the topic, sometimes it was the sound of a toilet flushing.
Drain’s live interviews were the most entertaining. He had an uncanny ability to snare some poor unsuspecting politico or celebrity in an awkward position. He spared no one, left or right, from his hilarious attacks. It was laugh out loud funny to hear someone try to stammer, dodge, or lie their way out of the corner Drain painted them into.
“What can I get you to drink?” Drain asked. They stood around the island in the kitchen selecting soft drinks from a wash tub filled with ice.
As they chatted in the kitchen, Carey got a better look at this local celebrity. In short, Drain was a weird duck. Probably 5’8″ or so, the nicest way to describe his physique was pudgy. Overweight and roly poly as though he assiduously avoided any travesti istanbul form of exercise. Hard to tell how old he was. Forty something? Pasty white skin. Carey looked more closely without trying to be obvious. It looked like he might be wearing some kind of foundation. And, was that eye liner? A full head of perfect blond hair. Undoubtedly a rug. He wore a kitschy burgundy velour sweater with an open neck revealing two thick gold necklaces. His tiny feet look even smaller because he was wearing ballet slippers.
When Carey asked him if his name was really Drain, he waved his hand and said with a chuckle, “Oh no! My real name is Duaine,” and with emphasis, “with an ‘i.’ My little brother called me Drain because he couldn’t pronounce Duaine. It stuck.” He chuckled again.
In an affected and nasal voice, put on for effect, Drain put his arm across his stomach and with a slight bow said, “Gentlemen, please accompany me to the conservatory.”
The conservatory was really just a large family room in the back of the house. Rectangular acoustic baffles hung suspended from the tall ceiling. Whatever walls were not covered in thick drapes were clad in a 1960’s era wood paneling. Large stereo speakers sat at one end and several smaller speakers were scattered through the rest of the room. One wall was completely lined with shelves housing a maze of electronic equipment. Amplifiers, pre-amps, mixers, turntables, and other stereo components. Lights blinked on and off and dials waved back and forth.
A number of chairs and a love seat were sprinkled through the room, mostly occupied by other men. Carey found an easy chair and Randy sat down on a piano bench.
After some brief introductions Drain launched into a monologue. It felt a little strange hearing the rich mellifluous voice in person Carey listened to everyday on the radio. Everyone looked on with expressions of admiration. There were lots of “Oh ya’s” and “Uh huh’s.” It was kind of like a white man’s revival meeting.
The other guys in the room varied from young to old, big to small, thin to fat. They all had one thing in common: they were gay. It wasn’t totally obvious but Carey’s gaydar detected a presence. The way a lot of the guys talked and their mannerisms gave them away. A couple of them were totally fem. One wore a single dangling earring. Another played with a necklace, his fingernails painted dark blue. A muscle bound linebacker type batted his eyelashes at Carey when he glanced at him.
Drain’s prognostications dealt primarily with music and the quality of sound coming from the impressive array of electronics on the wall. Sitting on the couch at one end of the room, he controlled most of the components with three remotes stationed on a small table at his feet. He lectured on the technical aspects of the recorded and amplified sound using a variety of geeky sounding words like manipulated input. He didn’t play any one song all the way through. Instead, he played clips from a variety of artists to demonstrate the extraordinary capability of his sound system. Opera, rap, vintage rock and roll, Janis Joplin, Frank Sinatra, Mozart, and everything in between.
Carey was bored. His eyes wandered over to Randy who had shifted around to straddle the piano bench. Leaning forward on his elbows as he paid rapt attention to Drain, Randy’s ass spread across the width of the bench. With his hips slightly raised and his back arched, it was almost as if he was inviting someone to to come up behind him and stick their cock into his ass. Carey thought it looked a little bizarre but also hot. Was he doing this on purpose?
Looking at Randy a bit closer, he admired his great hair. Brown, nice and thick. It was obvious he got it cut just the right way and took great pains to keep it neat and styled. It shined as though he had put some kind of product on it. His shoulders were pretty wide. Below his chest, his abdomen narrowed to a small waist.
Glancing back at the guys seated behind Randy, Carey saw that most of them had their eyes locked on Randy’s butt. One middle aged man, eyes glazed over, lightly tickled a bulge in his pants. With a gorgeous butt like that, it was no wonder he was getting that kind of attention. Carey smiled to himself.
Turning his attention back to Drain’s monologue, he tried to feign interest. Eventually, his eyes started to glaze over and he felt his chin start to droop to his chest.
Randy must have noticed because he sat up with start, hopped to his feet and interrupted Drain, “Hey! This was fun, but we’ve gotta get going.”
Carey shook himself awake and quickly stood up, too. After saying good byes and receiving hugs, a little close and a little too hard from Drain, they were able to extract themselves.
When they got into the car, Randy turned to Carey, “So, what did you think?”
Carey replied with a laugh, “Man! Drain is a trip!”
Randy swiveled in his seat toward Carey. “Honestly, what did you think?”
Carey took a breath. “Well…I thought it was kind of boring.”
Randy smirked. “Ya well…that scene is sort of…an acquired taste.”
Carey laughed. “Scene?!?” Pausing for a second, “So, how did you ever end up hanging out with Drain?”
Randy smirked as he put the car in motion.
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