A Hippie Independence Day

A Hippie Independence Day By J.D. Walker “You need to get rid of the Hawaiian shirts, love.” I watched my boyfriend of one year—Carl Neilson—as he rifled through his closet in search of something to wear to the Fourth of July fireworks show. “Not this again,” he groused, pulling out a red polo shirt to go with the blue jeans he wore. “I don’t see why I should. They’re still in good shape, and I like them.” Carl was married to the idea that if an item of clothing wasn’t too faded or didn’t have holes, then it was fine to wear out in public. I’d spent the last year trying to disabuse him of that notion, with only a modicum of success. At forty-eight years of age, Carl had a grown son—Chester—heading into his senior year of college, a son whom he loved and missed desperately. Carl was also a counselor at Baden Community College, a position he’d held for many years. Handsome, successful, and a good friend to have in your corner—and in life. Carl also played a mean game of Scrabble. We were both members of a Scrabble club that met on Mondays. I loved him dearly, but he had a tendency to get stuck in his ways. So it was my job to keep him on track. When we’d met last year at a dinner party that included Chester and his boyfriend—and my cousin—Dre, it had been friction from the start. I’d never been the kind of person to pull punches, and I called things as I saw them. Carl, back then, was decidedly behind the times in everything, and afraid of change. It wasn’t that the way he did things, or viewed life, was bad. I simply saw that he was hiding behind both his son and the humdrum of routine because of fear. I’d challenged his worldview, and that didn’t go down well—at all. Thankfully, we made it through that period, and Carl made changes in his life for the better. I was proud of him and the strides he still took, daily, to be the man he truly wanted to be. But the Hawaiian shirts… “Sweetheart, they may be in good shape,” I said, “but that doesn’t mean you need to wear them anymore.” I leaned back on my elbows on the bed where I lounged. “You’re holding onto them for another reason, I bet. Spill it.” Sighing, Carl sat beside me after putting on the polo shirt. He ran a hand over his shorn head—a change he’d made from the flowing hippie hair, sideburns, and bald spot he’d been sporting the year before. I sat up, placed an arm around his waist and my head on his shoulder. I knew he’d talk eventually. I just had to wait him out. “I…Ben, don’t get me wrong,” Carl began. “The changes I’ve made, they’ve all been good, and I’m thankful to you for opening my eyes about a lot of things. But the Hawaiian shirts…I started wearing them after my divorce as a sign of independence. It was something just for me, and made me feel good about myself at a time when everything was in upheaval, and I had sole custody of a young boy. Tossing them out would have…” Ah. Now I understood. “I’m sorry, love,” I said, rubbing his stomach through the thick cotton of his shirt. “I didn’t realize the significance behind them. I just assumed…well, I should know better. Forgive me?” Carl wrapped an arm around my waist and kissed my hair. “There’s nothing to forgive, love. I should have said something earlier, but I guess I wasn’t ready to do so. I was afraid you’d think it was a cop out.” I lifted my head to look at the man I loved more than life itself. “I never want you to feel like you can’t tell me anything. If I push too hard, just push back. I’ll understand, truly. I love you, you know.” “I know.” I decided to show him just how much he meant to me. I got down on my knees in front of my lover and unbuttoned his jeans, intent on the prize behind his zipper. “Um, you know we’ll be late if you start that now.” He didn’t tell me to stop, though. “I do,” I replied, winking at him as I leaned forward to mouth his c**k through his tighty-whities. Carl gasped. “You know the guys will never let us live it down if we’re not on time for the fireworks display.” “Yup.” I urged him to lift up so I could pull his pants and briefs down far enough to get at his c**k. “We can handle it, love. And I’ll be there to protect you.” “As if I need the protection of a man ten years my jun—” His words ended on a moan as I took him all the way into the back of my throat and swallowed. “Jesus,” he whispered, slowly pumping his hips into my mouth as I went up and down his length, teasing the leaking tip, and licking the veins that pulsed almost obscenely on his flesh. I pulled off to say, “I figured that would shut you up.” I went down on him once more, bobbing faster and faster while I rolled his balls in my hands. Carl fisted my blond curls, holding me immobile as he plunged in, his rhythm desperate until he came. “Fuckin’ s**t!” he exclaimed, his hands flexing in my hair as he shot down my throat. It was the best feeling ever, giving my lover the ultimate release. He fell backward onto the bed, his c**k slipping out of my mouth and resting, half-hard, on his jeans. I sat on my heels, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand as I took in the view of him, sated and spent. As an artist, I decided I would have to paint him like this, and soon. “You need,” he panted, “you need me to do you?” “I want to do your ass, love. Turn over.” I helped his languid limbs move, and soon he was bent over the edge of the bed, his ass up and his nether eye winking at me. I loved his hole. It was always so tight. I spit two times on his crack and used my fingers to stretch him a bit. We’d stopped using condoms last month, so I’d gotten to enjoy him bare. So good. Carl pushed back against my fingers. “I’m ready, love. I need you, not your digits.” “Impatient, aren’t we?” I said, spitting on my hand to slick up my d**k. I tapped his hole. “For you? Always,” he replied, and nudged me with his ass again. “This what you want?” I asked as I slowly penetrated him, inch by inch so as not to hurt him in any way. “Yesss,” he hissed. Carl turned his head to the side on the blanket, and I saw that his eyes were closed as he fisted the material beneath him. I slipped a hand from his hip and reached beneath him to feel his c**k. It was still semi-hard, though I guessed it would be a while before he was up to anything else again anytime soon. I pushed on, his hole exquisitely snug as I filled him with my c**k, my favorite place to be. I rubbed his back. “Okay, love?” “Better than. Come on, baby. f**k me like you mean it.” And I did. By the time we were done, the blanket was crooked, and I had Carl beneath me, sweaty and smiling while I tried to catch my breath. “Now we’ll definitely be late,” he said, wiggling out from under me to lie flat on his back and breathe. I was sure he was leaking c*m onto the blanket. What a sexy thought! “It was worth it, right?” “Always. Shower with me?” He turned his head and gave me a sweet smile. “You don’t have to ask me twice.” I got up and pulled him along behind me. A short while later, as we drove to the fireworks show, I glanced at Carl and smiled at the Hawaiian shirt he’d chosen to wear instead of the polo. If it made him happy to wear it, then I was happy, too. THE END