Markwildyr.com, Post #259
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Hunky Bunny’s been on Cliff’s mind so
much he doesn’t know how much more he can stand. Now they’re alone together
drinking beer after a bowling session. Right at the moment, they’re talking
about Bunny’s coming college experience. Is this it? Let’s see.
* * * *
LI’L
HONEY BUNNY
“Well,” I said uncertainly.
“You have your fraternities and your sororities—”
“I know that.”
“And you have your girls’
dorms and your boys’ dorms.”
“I know that too.”
Except there, they’re called
women’s dorms and men’s dorms.”
“Aw, come on, Cliff.”
“And you have those who will
and those who won’t. Women, that is.” I paused and tried to sound slightly
drunken. “Men too, I suppose.”
“You had much luck?”
“About like back here.”
“Crap. No better’n here?”
I grinned at him. “Well, maybe
a smidgeon.” I went on to embellish the two or three liaisons with women I’d
had last year. They were all real, but I probably exaggerated a minor detail or
two. Then I noticed he was getting agitated, so I really threw in some
details. Bunny took it all in while sucking on bottles of beer. By the time the
evening had started growing a beard, it was obvious he was too tipsy to drive
us home.
When he finally agreed to that
fact, I realized it was gonna be a bust of a night. Oh, I’d enjoyed Bunny’s
company and had fun, but somehow, I’d hoped something might come of it. Something
exciting, out of the ordinary… something exciting.
My hopes revived when I got
out of the car to switch seats and drive and decided I need to drain the pipe. He
staggered to my side, ripped open his fly and threw his arm around my
shoulders. As a potentially sensual moment morphed into a fraternal one, we
watered the bushes while I peered through the darkness to get a glimpse of him.
No use, not enough light. But I got the impression he was big.
****
I came off my Bunny high and
went to work the next day in a sour frame of mind until he breezed through the
door and grabbed a soft drink from the cooler. As he paid for his drink, he
gave me a smile.
“Really enjoyed hanging last
night. Have to do it again.”
“Yeah, I enjoyed it too.
Anytime.”
He hesitated for a second before
taking his leave, and as usual, I watched him clear out of sight. Fluid grace.
Masculine poetry in motion. Hell, walking sex.
Over the next two days, I
hoped he’d wander back in the store and finish what he’d started by fixing the
time and date for another outing. He didn’t show up until six days later
suggesting that we try the lanes again since it was open bowling that night. I
swallowed my disappointment when I had to decline since I was taking Mom to
Pollytown to see her sister right after work that evening. I spent the next two
days in a surly mood until it occurred to me there was no reason why I
shouldn’t call him. I dialed his father’s store, but Bunny was out on an
errand. I left a message, only halfway expecting it to be answered. But about
four, he called me back.
“Hi, Cliff. It’s Bunny. Got a
message you called.”
“Yeah. You probably already
have plans, but if not, maybe we could do something tonight.”
“Naw. I was just gonna go down
to the Fountain—” which I knew was a local teen hangout “—and see what was
happening. But I’m game for something. What you have in mind?”
I sure couldn’t answer that
question honestly, so I equivocated. “Dunno. You have any ideas?”
“It’s open bowl in Pollytown
tonight, we could drive over there.”
“Aw, I dunno—”
“I know,” he suggested, “You
can use that ID of yours to get us some beer, and we can drive to the lake and
relax.”
“Sounds good to me, but it’s a
little chilly for swimming after dark.”
“Nah. Just hang, like we did
the other night.”
“You got it.”
We made arrangements, and I
spent the rest of the afternoon trying not to screw up whatever my chore of the
moment was.
****
I went by the liquor store before
I picked him up—figured it was my time to drive—and honked for him at six-thirty,
as agreed. He bounced out the door looking like a million dollars adjusted for inflation
and crawled into the passenger’s seat. We exchanged smiles and greetings, and I
took off like a shot, anxious to get the beer flowing down his throat.
He talked about his day, while
I contributed occasional grunts as we raced toward the lake, a long ten miles
down the highway. When we got there, I had a mild scare when he spotted a few
guys we both knew with their gals and a truckload of alcohol. But I relaxed
when he said he wasn’t in the mood for a party. We motored on down the road
until we found a semi-remote area with a good view of the lake and the moon and
stars. He wasted no time grabbing a couple of cans from the cooler in my back
seat.
Neither of us talked for a few
minutes, just sucked on our beer and admired the view. I turned half sideways
in the seat and admired the view I preferred… the roll of muscle in his arms,
the play of his Adam’s apple, the flat planes of his chest and concave curve of
his belly, and… well, and the shadows and valleys farther south. Bunny had
really turned into an Earthbound Adonis. I could have sat there all night
without saying a word, but soon he got restless.
“Tell me more about college,”
he finally said, spearing me with a look. Had he caught me gawking at him?
So I spent an hour answering
questions and describing Mimi Sawtuck in more detail than she deserved, and he
obviously at it up.
Eventually, I ran out of
things to say when he quit asking questions, and a silence grew. Eventually, he
broke it.
“Uh, Cliff….”
“Yeah?”
“You said something last time,
but I guess you were just goofing.”
“What did I say?”
“Don’t remember exactly, but I
asked something about sex… meaning sex on camputs, but you said…. Well….”
“I’m game if you are. I said I’m
game if you are.”
“That’s it. Did… did you mean
it, or were you just horsing—”
“Every word of it.”
“Meant every word of it?”
“Yep. Meant every word of it.”
“Why would… Well, you told me
about the women you had, so—” He bit his lip. “Were you making that up?”
“Not a bit. Every one of them
was real.”
“Then how come….”
I caught his eye in the bright
moonlight and held it. “Bunny, I’m willing to bet a week’s pay you’re not a
virgin. In fact, I’ll wager you’ve sampled more than one of the town’s girls.”
He grinned. “Two. More than
once.”
“So how come you’re
interested?”
“W-what makes you think I am?”
“Friday night, and here we are
out on the lakeshore all alone. You’re the one who brought up the subject. Why
would you do that if you weren’t interested?”
He shrugged. “Curious, I
guess.”
“You ever got with a guy?”
He shook his head. “Nope. Next
door neighbor and I jerked off together when we were fifteen. That’s all.”
“How did you feel about it
then?”
“It was okay. Nothing to shout
about.”
“You must be interested in
something more than jerking off to bring it up now.”
“Aw, just forget—”
I looked him straight in the
eye. “Uh-uh, you said you were curious, so let’s get curious.”
“I-I dunno, Cliff.”
“I do. I’ll show you how we do
it in college.”
I reached for him. He
flinched, but didn’t bolt. Before the evening was over, Lil ole Honey Bunny had
learned a lot… and he had learned it well. I think I unleashed a tiger. And I knew one thing for sure. I couldn't call him L'il Honey Bunny anymore.
I get the
feeling Cliff got more than he bargained for… turned every way but loose. How
do you see it?
My new anthology,
Huntinghawk, has been released as an Ebook by JMS Books with the print
version to follow soon. Hope you’ll give it a read.
Website and blog: markwildyr.com
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