- DISCLAIMER - The following story, novel, or chapter contains homosexual themes and is not intended for anyone under the legal viewing age - If depictions of homosexual activities disturb you - Do Not Continue To Read This Story - Feedback appreciated Copyright - 2005 - Max Williams (Kollegekid54321@hotmail.com)
Chapter 6
Fredo Richiazzi sat in his bedroom brooding. This was craziness, absolute, ridiculous craziness. He lay on his back, on his bed, looking at the ceiling and absentmindedly rubbing himself through his boxers. He was shirtless and pants less, laying there comically in his underwear and socks, sweating in his hot little bedroom. His curly hair looked frizzled, and his smooth coffee colored skin was covered with a shimmering layer of annoying sweat. Fredo lived in the smaller bedroom of a three bedroom apartment over a pizzeria on the outskirts of Capetown. The other end of Montgomery Avenue, that didn't terminate in a traffic circle, skirted around the south edge of the park and then went directly along the waterfront for about half a mile before coming to the part of Wyoming County that was known as Industrial Park. But it was no park. There were auto manufacturing factories piled one after another for a ten mile strip right along the water between Cape Town and Jamestown, and nestled in between the capitalist behemoths were little villages - not cute tourist-y villages like Cape Town itself, but poor, dirty, and necessary villages that only survived because something was needed to sustain the working class assholes that slaved at the factories fourteen hours a day.
And in one of the little patches of Settlement, between the Ford plant and GMC, was a strip of Montgomery Avenue, here just called Route 5, which housed a bar, a pizzeria, a restaurant, an ancient hotel, and a few streets of bungalows. All of it was small, and almost all of it was filthy from the steel works down the way. And living over the pizzeria was a family so poor that they were considered the dregs of humanity even among the poor section of town. And they were the family that Juanita Richiazzi had been raising ever since her husband, Roberto, had died. The oldest, Antonio, was a worker in the factories, like his father, and behind him were Rosenica and Alfredo, the twins, both seniors in high school, and the youngest, Juanita, who had come almost 8 months after Juanita buried Roberto, and was now only entering the second grade.
Fredo was a skinny young man, with a bony body and a dark complexion. He shared his room with his brother, who worked from 6 am to 10 pm ever night next door at the factory, and in the meantime suffered in the hell that occurred whenever the pizza ovens one floor below were fired up. And midday on a springy Saturday outside of Buffalo, New York is the wrong time to live above a pizza parlor. Fredo had been sweating for hours, waiting for the day to end. His mother was also out working, also in the factory, and his sister was at her boyfriend's house, doing things he didn't want to know about. Little Juanita was in the next room, sleeping in her crib in their mother's room and apparently not minding the heat. And Fredo was thinking about Jason.
He absentmindedly rubbed himself harder as he laid there, his thin body covered in sweat. He knew it was ridiculous, but it still really bothered him that his best friend for a year, at the beginning of high school, had just begun ignoring him without a reason. Fredo thought of the thin, cute guy that used to come to Fredo's house almost every day, and then pictured that kid next to the tall, muscular, tan guy that Jason had become. Fredo peeled himself off of his bed, leaned over far enough to kick shut the bedroom door with his foot, and then went back to lie on his bed.
Jason . . . hmmm, Jason . . . what a kid. Fredo began to relax with the heat, and his eyes momentarily drifted out the painted-shut little window to look at the great sterile smokestacks of the Ford factory. Hmmm, Jason . . . he rubbed himself harder and gently let the tip of his dick poke through the slit in his boxers. He pulled then down and cupped his balls with one hand while stroking himself with the other; long, deep, relaxing strokes from the sensitive base of himself, nestled among the fine curly hair, to the quivering tip, and back again. In his relaxed, semi-amorous state, Fredo easily pictured the times when he and Jason would skip school and come back to Fredo's empty house to smoke pot and listen to the hippy records that Roberto had left. Fredo remembered when the two of them would get bored and go down to the lake's edge to swim in the cool water. That was risky - the water was too polluted from the factories to be swum in and there was always some guard around. He thought of the times that he and Jason would go out to the bar down the street and look into the windows as the dirty old men felt up the young desperate women that led them upstairs. Fredo's mind went to one of his favorite memories; climbing the stairs that went to the collapsing second floor balcony of the old barroom and looking in one of the windows. Jason had followed, timid and cautious, but was drawn in soon enough by the sight of the woman, breasts bouncing free, holding up her blonde hair as she went up and down and up and down in a constant motion on the fat truck driver's lap. In that little room that had only room for a bed a floor lamp, the two boys learned their first lesson about sex. Fredo's mind went over the months that they spent talking about that, and then the time they tried it.
Fredo's eyes snapped open. That was a nightmare. But Jason had liked it. Truth be told, so had Fredo . . . but they had gotten scared, and that was about the time Jason started spending more time at the gym anyway, and making new, straighter, friends. Friends that in their wildest dreams wouldn't put their lips on another guy's - hey! He thought of Jason in school on Thursday, before he'd been such a fucking ass, and then collapsed, in Music Theory. Jason had been talking about Greg's party this weekend, and that was tonight! Greg Bellgraph ran on the track team and even though they weren't friends, they knew each other well enough. Greg - oh Greg - Fredo rubbed himself harder and a little bit faster, feeling a dab of pre-cum lubricate the end of his hard Latin penis - Greg had been talking about his party in the locker room on Friday and all his best friends that he was inviting. Fredo hadn't actually been invited, no, but he knew that Greg couldn't be too mad if Fredo showed up. He rubbed himself harder. Fredo really wanted to get Jason back to the point where they were getting along, and he didn't know how it would happen Fredo rubbed himself harder, shutting his eyes - but he knew that it would have to start - he rubbed harder and began gasping - with a chance meeting somewhere, and if Jason was maybe a little bit drunk - Fredo began rolling his balls around in his other hand - it would go just - Fredo rubbed even harder - that - he started picturing Greg again, in the locker room with his well-formed round pecs - much - Fredo felt an explosion come out of his hips and land on his chest, and continued to rub, gasping and moaning slightly smoother. Well, it was set; Fredo was going to see what was happening in Garden Acres that night.
"Hey - that looks pretty good. Thanks." Jason was in Sean's room, trying on one of Sean's father's shirts. Sean himself was seated, amused but bored, at his desk, looking up recipes for mixed drinks. After the ridiculous conversation in the car, Sean had offered to let Jason borrow some of his clothes and then just drive the two of them to Greg's house later. Trevor and Dave had gone on, and now Jason and Sean had been hanging out for an hour, talking more than anything else. Sean looked over aimlessly.
"Mmmph." Jason looked back at him, smiling.
"What the hell does that mean?"
"It means put something on and lets go", Sean said testily. Jason shook his head. Sean's energy and livelihood was a good time when they were having fun, but when things were slow he could turn into a pretty bitchy kid.
"I'm coming dude - nothing of yours fits me."
"That's why I got my dad's clothes out."
"I know, but nothing of his fits me either."
"I dunno, put your fucking sweatshirt back on. If I hadn't wanted to stop here you'd still be wearing it anyway."
"Hey . . ." Sean looked over.
"Hey, what?"
"Nothing. Gimme my sweatshirt then, but give me a t shirt to wear under it. Its fucking cold out there", Jason conceded, unbuttoning the uncomfortably tight polo shirt he'd been given. Sean groaned, but got up and plodded to his dresser. "I've only got wife beaters" he muttered as he dramatically pulled one out, threw it to Jason and fell face up onto his bed. "Can we go soon?"
"Yeah, yeah", Jason said, throwing the polo shirt neatly into the pile of Sean's dad's clothes. Jason took a moment to scratch his chest and yawn, and then put his lean muscled arms over his head and stretched for a moment, flexing every muscle on his body and emitting a low groan.
"Aww", he said, smiling and coming out of the pose, "that felt really good."
"Yeah", Sean said sarcastically from the bed, "it was really sexy. Can we go?" Sean stood up and bent over to pick up some of the clothes on the floor. At the same moment Jason bent over to pick up the wife beater he'd been given, and when they both straightened up almost ran into each other. Smiling, Jason reached out to catch Sean by the arms, and laughed trying to make a joke out of it. Sean looked annoyed as he caught Jason's eyes, and Jason tried to laugh again. Their eyes were locked, and Jason immediately felt uncomfortable. He smiled again, but Sean just narrowed his eyes as he looked up at the bigger man, and Jason looked away, then looked back and was caught. After a moment, Jason put his hands on Jason's arms.
"Hey . . . Jase?" For a reason he didn't understand, Jason's heart was pounding as he looked at Sean's symmetric, finely boned face. The short dark hair with the blond highlights was perfectly spiked, and the even white teeth were slightly visible as Sean's mouth hung slightly open.
"Umm . . . yeah", Jason said nervously, suddenly embarrassingly aware of the face that he was still shirtless and that Sean's strong hands were lightly accidentally rubbing his chest hair.
"Can you burn a hole in me with your eyes later? I want to get to the fucking party dude." Sean's expression was annoyed again, and Jason felt his hands being pushed off of Sean's arms. He let his hands drop, and picked up the undershirt, not quite shirt what just happened.
"Oh, right. I didn't know what the fuck you were doing. Yeah, let's get to the party . . . you fag!" Jason pulled on the tank top and then grabbed his sweatshirt, gave Sean a hard punch on the shoulder and ran out of the room.
"Hey - wait I - you asshole!" Sean was laughing again, now that he had something to do. He chased Jason down the stairs of his house, said goodbye to his parents, and then the two guys ran out to Sean's old, but sporty Grand Prix. The used car grumbled to life, and the guys were off.
The floorboards were dank and smelly, and it was debatable whether it was the marble that had crushed them, or just their own weight. The man was feverishly working, barely aware of the disgusting miasma that filled the dark, dank cellar room with the scent of ammonia. His yellowed, crackled fingers were digging into handfuls of the black rotted wood, and his dry skin loved the wet sodden stuff. His yellow eyes were watering, but keenly focused on the peculiar part of the floor in what turned out to be the fruit cellar. Shelves of jars surrounded him, hung off of rotting bead board walls and emitting a deathly stale scent. But he had been right; the floor was entirely flagstone, throughout the entire basement, except for this unnoticed corner of the fruit cellar that Providence alone had dictated he should find. If it weren't for that beam . . . the man's head swam at trying to calculate how long it would have taken to find this piece of floor in an unlit basement with such a disgustingly overpowering scent.
The heavy piece of marble was half-buried in the rotted floor, and the man was digging in vain with his fingernails around it, trying to pry it out. He was successfully covering his fingers with more molds, and more bumps, bruises, and those curious cuts that wouldn't bleed and wouldn't heal. And in the meantime, every time he made a hole in the wood, the heavy marble would just shift in that direction and fill it in. It was a ridiculous proposition, and he despised it . . . but when you're looking for a hidden treasure and come upon a hidden space . . . the chance was too great to not take. He resolutely went back to digging.
Fredo swore at the fucking bus driver again. Fredo was dressed to the nines with his red shirt open to his chest, suit coat and pants, and shiny shoes. He had sunglasses pressed firmly into his shiny curls, and a scowl on his face as he offered the bus driver another magazine from his bookbag.
"C'mon man, you know you want it." The bus driver eyed Fredo suspiciously.
"Yeah . . . why're you giving it up?"
"I don't want to man, but I need to get to Cape City. C'mon, just take it." The bus driver sneered, but momentarily took the copy of Boobs, Babes, and Baked Goods and mulled it over. When you have no money, you improvise. And Fredo knew how to improvise, especially when he was dealing with the perverted late night bus drivers and had access to Antonio's collection of old porn.
"Cape City, huh? That's gonna be two mags, and a video", the bus driver concluded, rolling up Boobs, Babes, and Baked Goods and putting it under his seat.
"Hey - a video?! What do you think, I'm a fucking store?!"
"Okay, fine", said the bus driver, moving to shut the door.
"Wait! Wait! Gimme two seconds!" With that Fredo dumped his bookbag on the floor of the empty bus, and seeing the bus driver fold his arms in annoyed acquiescence, ran out of the bus, past the bar, past the pizzeria, and up the back flight of stairs. He burst into the apartment, looking around.
"Video . . . video . . . ", he muttered, looking around. He picked up a copy of his little sister's Bambi, and started reading the back. No . . . he ran into his and Antonio's room and ripped open Antonio's trunk, rifling straight to the bottom looking for a video. Nothing, all magazines. Some condoms. Condoms? Umm . . . no. Fredo looked around desperately, and then picked up the first movie he saw in his closet. Drill Sergeants and the Sergeants they Drill. Whoa, that was one of his - how'd that get there. He threw that under his bed and then had an idea. Going back into Antonio's trunk, he started rifling through the magazines again, and at the first full page centerfold he saw, ripped her out of her magazine and threw her on the desk facedown. He dowsed the back of the photo with glue, and by the time he got back from the living room with Bambi, she was ready to be applied. He carefully stuck her to the front of the plastic case, wrapped her around the back, and then was off like a flash.
The bus driver had his head down in Fredo's bag by the time he got back, and as Fredo jumped on the bus, he saw the old pervert's head fly back up.
"Hey kiddo, you've got some good shit there."
"Hey, thanks. Now look, here's a fucking video, and I can see you've just taken every other magazine that you wanted. So now, fuckhead, can I get the fuck to fucking Cape fucking City, or fucking not?!" The bus driver blanched, but looked nervous and nodded.
"Yeah, sure kid. Now siddown and shut up. And . . . by the way . . . wait for me if you ever want to get somewhere else again."
As they pulled up to Greg Bellgraph's house, Sean and Jason inhaled and whistled at the size of the beautiful new home. Most of Garden Acres was built on a bluff overlooking Lake Erie, and the developers had done their homework figuring out sites that gave every house a startlingly dramatic view of the water. Sean and Jason had been driving around the subdivision for half an hour now, looking at all the different styles of houses. Sean had like the low modern one with the steel siding, and Jason had liked the turreted and shingled Victorian revival . . . he wasn't sure why. When they finally pulled up to the classically arranged fa‡ade of the white, colonial Bellgraph house, it was dark out and the party was clearly started. They parked on the street with the numerous other cars of varying makes and sizes, and Sean locked the doors as Jason got out and put his sweatshirt on over his almost bare body.
"Whoa", Jason said into the chill night air.
"Yeah", Sean breathlessly agreed. The Bellgraph's house was one of this biggest they'd seen yet, with two low wings symmetrically sticking off the main bulk of the house and a white pergola stretching down the entire left side of it. Beyond the house and through the ornate white fence, Jason and Sean could see a green backyard and a swimming pool lit with low outdoor lights, and then beyond that a sharp drop off that probably went straight down to the lake.
"Amazing", Jason pontificated.
"Yeah", Sean breathlessly agreed. The guys looked at each other, and Jason smiled his pleasant smile as Sean smiled his fun-loving one, and together, they advanced up the brick walkway.
The party was in absolute full swing. Inside the paneled front door, a brilliant hallway greeted Jason and Sean. Though they couldn't appreciate the intricate historically appropriate detail that the house had been constructed with, they were immediately aware that this was a high style place. The hallway was resplendent with white woodwork and pale yellow wallpaper, and immediately facing the guys was a huge wide staircase that swept up half a story to an equally wide and beautifully tall Palladian window that gave a view of the entire lake. To the left of the hallway was a living room than ran the length of the house, beyond which was a den, a guest bedroom and bathroom, and a sun room off the pergola with Greg's exercise equipment, and to the right was a dining room than ran the length of the house, beyond which was the kitchen, family room, breakfast room, back stairway, and a few other offices or something that Jason couldn't recall. Upstairs, he was told, were six bedrooms, most with their own baths, and another two over the garage, which was just to the right of the pool. Jason and Sean knew they'd have a good time in this place.
Trevor and Dave were already there; true to Trevor's style he was being restrained and orderly, organizing a poker game at the beautifully veneered dining room table. Dave was in the living room, making the fifteen people spread around on the silk couches rock with laughter. People were coming and going from everywhere, and everyone had a cup in their hands. Some of the harder partiers were already drunk, rocking back and forth with laughter by the landscaped pool outside, but lots of people were just beginning to loosen up.
Jason and Sean knew what to do; they'd been to plenty of parties before, albeit in humbler surroundings, and went to seek out Greg for inviting them. Jason immediately went to seek out Greg and thank him for inviting them, and Sean went to go find the beer and then laugh at Dave's antics.
Jason patted Trevor on the back as he passed through the dining room, then hit the white swinging door to the kitchen and passed into another beautifully proportioned room that had a ridiculous amount of white cabinetry and gray marble countertops, and more importantly, box after box of imported beers and cigars. Jason made a mental note to come back to them, and then spotted Greg, sitting in the middle of the family room watching a movie with about six other people, whom Jason recognized as Mike Warrick, Dave Pellegrino, Jay Billings, and the remainder of the gaggle of other guys that were famous around Cape City High for their sporting prowess, most of them with their girlfriends.
"Hey Jase!" Good looking Greg got off the couch once he spotted Jason, and got up to high-five him. "Whats up dude! Hey - I heard about you passing out in Braun's class."
"Hey - yeah, I did. It sucked", Jason said, smiling at Greg but avoiding his eyes. Greg was very tall, but at the same time had a broad kind of build that made him seem wider than he really was. In reality, he was just amply muscled with round, hard muscles that were very apparent through the beautifully fitted blue silk shirt he was wearing. His brown hair was spiked up for the night, and his blue eyes seemed interested, but not overly curious, about Jason's predicament.
"All right, well, it's glad to have you back man. Go get some shit then come back and talk." Greg gestured to the beer on the counter in the other room, then sat down again and immediately had a girl on his lap, throwing herself against his chest and otherwise all over him. Jason thanked him and went back to the kitchen, grabbed one of the cold bottles and started walking around the house, seeing who was there. After running into rooms full of drunk people he didn't know, Jason came into the living room and threw himself on one of the soft, seep sofas to watch Dave make an ass out of himself.
"Oh hey Jase -", Dave said, stopping in the middle of what he was saying. "So anyway, this dude comes in and he's like `Fuck yo' couch!' and then Charlie Murphy's all talking about the shit they pulled on him . . . " Jason sipped his beer as Dave went on and on with his story. People were riotous with laughter, but Jason figured it was also because of the numerous empty bottles that covered the inlaid coffee table. Sean had been in the living room for a while, and Jason looked over to see that his finely boned face was slowly getting less and less lucid as he drank something out of a glass. Sean was sitting on the arm of an overstuffed armchair that otherwise held a busty girl that Jason didn't know, but had seen at Cape City High. She was drinking too, and kept surreptitiously looking up at Sean so he wouldn't notice, and Sean did the same with her.
Jason immediately had a mental picture of himself fucking the nicely proportioned girl, and he liked thinking of his hot defined self pumping into her. Then he pictured Sean on her, and imagined his well developed abs and chest reacting with her feminine curves, and Jason pictured Sean's handsome face open in the pained smile that comes with a really intense orgasm. Then Jason got a mental picture of himself doing Meghan while Sean did that girl; buddies doing their girls. Looking at each other, asserting the other one's manliness. Feeling each other, seeing the other one's technique. Kissing each other . . . whoa! Jason snapped back to reality and was embarrassed to find he was hard. He looked around and took a deep drink of his beer before he realized Sean was staring at him.
"What?" Sean mouthed silently. Jason shook his head to say "nothing" and Sean, looking irritable at Jason again, turned back to the blonde. Jason quickly crossed his legs and looked back at Dave, who was weakly doing some other impression. Now Dave, Dave could never be Sean. Sure, Dave had nicely proportioned body from all the karate he did, and a head full of straight spiked black hair, but he didn't possess the light, bright kind of frat-boy attractiveness that Sean had. Jason smiled, thinking about it; yeah Sean is one good guy to have around - he's so hot Ill have all kinds of pussy in my lap. Jason saw Dave eyeing him, and immediately came back and turned his smile of condescension into one of appreciation by laughing at Dave's last joke. Dave warmed up immediately, and smiled back, then dynamically turned away and screamed "HEY IM GONNA GO STREAKING" and hunkered down behind the coffee table to see who was actually going to mistakenly do it.