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Chapter 6 - Sandboxed memories, golden showers, and bazinga moments

Chapter 6 – Sandboxed memories, golden showers, and bazinga moments

Chapter Songs – Too Close - Alex Clare | Young and Beautiful - Lana Del Rey (song that inspired the flashbacks)

The ‘ha-ha-ha-has’ and the ‘boo-hoo-hoos’ surrounded one small boy with a huge predicament. ‘Ha-ha-ha-ha!’ one boy laughed facetiously with no regard for the damage that his mono-syllabic and idiotic tirade could do. ‘Ew, gross!’ came the glowering insult from a rambunctious little girl who might be genetically predisposed to have her period early on at the age of five. ‘Matty got three legs. Ha-ha-ha!’ was how the kids, in unison, ridiculed poor old Matty Boi coldheartedly.

The children who surrounded dear old Matty had brutal honesty. They pointed accusatory fingers at him like pitchforks. It was difficult to chance upon empathy here, because these kids could not even spell the word, let alone know what it meant. There was no need to recoil behind the appearance of sympathy either, for they were too young and stubborn to acquire such emotion.

The young man in the middle of it all should have been crying, but he wasn’t. He was strong and tolerating. Words did not break him for he had the heart of a golem. His feet firmly stood their ground, unflinching, immovable. He fought blade with blade, returning the favor with a look of sharp daggers. If only their expressions could kill, then surely this would have been a bloodbath.

Harsh laughter rolled like pencil shavings from the children’s fetid mouths. Scoffs and guffaws were the pointy tips of their sharpened material. Their chortles of disgust were a valid physical response for they were yet to learn what facetious means. And just like the weeks prior, this was just a normal day for a young Matthew Holston, who forgot yet again to zip his pantaloons.

The children went wild with how oblivious young Matty Boi was. He scratched his head and tried his best to look normal. Instinctively, and guided by the concentration of laughter that was directed at his groin, he looked down. Ripples of warmth swirled around his cheeks. He felt hot like the sun. The children were the planets, tracing an axis with their pointy fingers as they pivoted around him. Poor little Matty, he was much too young to be the center of the universe.

He needed to be saved. It would only take one hero, or maybe even a heroine, to make a difference. That person happened to hide behind a quiet corner, watching as Matt shrunk under intense ridicule. The would-be heroine felt pain just by looking at him. A dull ache manifested in her chest. She didn’t have the words to explain it, but the feeling was strong enough to compel her to become the little boy’s savior. Determined to uphold goodness, she made to save him.

“Stop it!” Finally, her empathetic voice surfaced. It broke the shackles that held Matt from understanding what friendship truly meant. She marched towards the sandbox. Murmurs and whispers heightened as she valiantly trudged the path. Her piercing squint could kill, and so would the sharpened pencils in her hands. She had three in each like that of Wolverine. She was a mutant, and damn proud of it, “Leave him alone you p*****s!” She really was courageous. A valiant princess no doubt, oh yeah.

She made swinging motions with her claws, and for some reason the kids dispersed and scattered. It was a valid emotional response this time, one born out of fear and playfulness. They wiggled like worms, giggling with mischievous simpers like the raggedy bunch that they were.

Her claws retracted, “You okay?”

The young Matty Boi nodded.

She held out her left hand.

He took it with his right.

And together, with jubilation and mirth, they walked hand in hand to greet the morning sunshine.

We were yet again thrown in the cusp of Matty Boi’s pervy presence as he swung his well-toned buttocks in a choreographed series of erotic hip-thrusting movements. ‘And it feels like I am just too close to f**k youuu, yeah…’ he sang, completely screwing the lyrics to Alex Clare’s song titled ‘Too Close’, which is still available on iTunes® if ever you are interested in downloading. Normally I would suggest a slew of websites that offered free downloads, but then I got paid by iTunes® to advertise syndication, so yeah, whatever.

‘And it feels like I am just too close to f**k youuu…’ Matty Boi continued singing the lyric, oblivious of our presence as we watched him eat his meat-filled burrito –the actual sammich, not his dong you pervies– over the kitchen island. Oh yeah. Delicious.

At this point in the narrative, I would insert a photo of Edvard Munch’s ‘The Scream’ which if you didn’t have an idea about is a revered painting of a thin man with both hands squeezing his pale face into a mortified blood-curdling look. ‘Thud!’ went the sound of a fangirl who fainted.

‘Whoa! You guys, someone fainted!’ said Matty Boi as he removed his Beats® headphones. Yeah, I’m re-advertising Beats® headphones because sales have dropped somewhere in the US.

Now, we knew what the fainting fangirl’s intentions were. Clearly she wanted attention from dear old Matty Boi. And so with jealousy coursing through our mischievous veins, we started kicking the crap out of her. ‘f**k you b***h for craving attention! Matty boi is ours! Fuuuck youuu!!’ we screamed in unison as we kicked the crap out of her. Now, don’t you dare look at me like that. Even I, the narrator, wanted a piece of Matty Boi’s red-headed monster. Uh. Yeah.

The fangirl was rushed to Emergency shortly after we gave her a good beating. Served her right for being too clingy, heh. Anyway, Matty Boi made to speak, ‘Um, you guys scare me. So ah, where were we? Oh yeah, I was dancing to Alex Clare’s song. It’s got great melody you guys. If you’re online reading this, just press play on the YouTube clip. Okay, enough with this bullstool monologue. I know you guys want some storytelling, so let’s do this shiz and get jiggy with it.

‘Ring, ring…’

“Yo, wot up!?”

“Hey, um, Matt it’s me, Collin.”

“f**k youuu!! I ain’t gettin’ edged again. I almost died last time! They even had me do the Saint Andrew's Cross! Goddammit!!”

“I’ve got a job for you man.”

“f**k you!!”

“No, it’s not what you think. It’s classier this time. I swear on my mom’s crack.”

“I ain’t fallin’ for that shiz again man. Last time I did, I ate your cousin’s p***y!”

“s**t! f**k! Why do you keep reminding me of that!? Gahd! Ugh. Shiz. Gross.”

“Whatevs man, hit me.”

“Okay, yeah. So, um, there’s this bridal shower—”

“I’m out the door. Bye!”

I vibrated on my Harley at a velocity that wasn’t too fast or too slow. It was just the right amount of speed to dribble my balls and prepare them for what’s to come. In a matter of minutes I made it in front of a fully furnished, decked out, densely clad, and pumped up swanky residence near Miami Beach. I recognized it as one of the many houses I did construction for.

I knocked at the door only to get knocked back by a rack of knockers. Her boobies were like bazongas the size of Texas. Bang bang bosoms yes they were. Oh God. When I looked at her, I couldn’t help but get distracted. And it was always those two things in front of her. Jeezus mother of fudge they were big. I spoke while trying my best to compose myself, “Hey Miss Titties. s**t, I mean, um … yeah. Collin sent me. I’ll be your entertainment for the evening.”

She trailed her index finger from her throat, down her neck, over and across each plump breast before burying it between her Grand Canyon of a cleavage, “You’re cute,” she winked at me.

I didn’t know what to say. I thought I was gonna get something more than just cute. But I guess I was just that … cute. Shiz, I mean, cute is like a step below handsome, or hot, or scorching, or handsomely scorching and hot. I felt insulted, “The girls are waiting for you to come,” she rasped the last word dripping with lust. I gave a mischievous smirk with a few teeth. Me. Come. Lol.

Lola had me wear a tight Miami Police uniform. Yeah, that was her name. Lola. If you spoke Filipino language, that’d mean old and matronly, but she wasn’t. Oh boy she wasn’t. She was all botoxed and shiz like Stripperella. You know Stripperella? Google yo. It’s a 2003 cartoon about a stripper-heroine named Erotica Jones, whose voice-over talent was Pamela Anderson. Oh yeah.

Lola wanted me to act like the po-pos, raiding their party and whatnot. The girls were so into it. I was almost convinced that I really was a cop doing a drug bust. They even had the paraphernalia and stuff. Some of ‘em even snorted white crap, which upon closer inspection was indeed crack.

“Hey there girly girlies! Let's have a kiki! It’s turkey lurkey time!” Lola beamed with a roll of crack up her nose. Aw man, she looked hammered and knackered. She might topple over her bazongas if she wasn’t careful. They looked so heavy on her.

I watched in awe as they wore their peacock hats and skanky outfits. They were voguing to the beat of the music, with hands that were all Egyptian-like and twirly. Each movement looked well-rehearsed with a choreography that’d make Ryan Murphy blush. It looked like a f*****g musical production in Glee! That was how good they danced.

“Matt? Is that you?” went a familiar voice. Oh fudgedammit.

I made for a very awkward greeting, “Hey Quincy Quinn,” And if you can’t remember her, she was the preppy gal I sang Everybody Talks with in Chapter 2.

“Matt, you didn’t tell me you were a stripper,” she accused.

“No, no, no … I was fillin’ up for Collin coz he had to like—ah!” A b***h grabbed my junk.

“Ugh!” Quinn exclaimed, utterly grossed out by her friend.

“Gyaaahhh~!” I elbowed another slut who slithered around my chest and licked my n*****s.

“Oh my God, Matt … I really thought you were different. Guess I was wrong,” was how she voiced her repulsion of me as if I didn’t measure up to whatever mantle or standard she expected.

“It’s not what you think. I was just doing my friend a favor. I am not a manhoe by profession.”

“You know what? f**k you Matt. f**k you!” Jeezus. What was wrong with her? It wasn’t like we were dating and shiz. Yeah I liked her, but she didn’t have to make me feel like garbage.

“Whoa, hang on a second. What about you huh? Why are you here—Jesus Christ!” I pushed another b***h out of the way. She was gonna suck me off in front of my possible future who looked a lot like my tortured present that was threatening to become a bitter past. Hmm.

Did this mean I really liked her?

“I’m here coz I’m a good friend to the bride. And I can see that you’ve made yours too … Jesus! Claire! You’re such a floozy!” She yelled at one of the bridesmaids whose mouth was cupping and salivating against my bulge.

The horny maiden let go of my crotch then looked up, “Oh, come on Quinn. Tell me you don’t want this? Rarely can one sight the Lochness monster! You need to take pictures of this rare sighting. Quick!” The horny floozy waved her ultra high-resolution 80 megapixel digital camera.

“Ugh! I’m leaving. Take care, Matt,” Quincy left. I felt like I let her down or something. s**t.

Lola tapped on my shoulder, “Get to work, Romeo. And sorry you couldn’t f**k your Juliet, okay? Now, get on board the inflatable.”

“What?” I was several shades confused.

“We pay you to obey and not complain. Now, get that sexy piece of ass over there and kneel!”

Holy crap, what did she mean by that??

I did what I was told to do. I knelt inside a round inflatable. From what I gathered, I believe one of the ladies wanted to give me a golden shower. I wasn’t keen about the pissing activity. I found it sickening. I knew it was going to be a very uncomfortable situation, emasculating almost.

I shrouded my mind with images of things I could buy with the Benjamins I was gonna make. It made me stronger and less freaked out about the whole pissy business. With a huge gulp of air, I planted and settled inside the plastic pool.

“I’ll pay you an extra thousand over what you’re getting, okay honey?” Miss Pissy Pants encouraged, brushing a wad of Benjamins under my nose. I sniffed then mustered a fake smile.

She took position and nestled her nether lips on top of my head. I felt like a bird’s nest who’s about to get laid. Well, laid on, not f****d.

I readied myself for the humiliation. She wriggled and squirmed around my head, allowing the pressure to build and skitter. And after what felt like a millennia, warmth poured through my hair. Her champagne-colored juices doused my brows, and then stung my eyes. It streaked down the stem of my nose, the tip of which looked like a faucet - a frigging faucet for golden pee!

I felt like crap. They disgraced me. I was reminded of the kids who used to tease me for having a huge dingus. I needed someone to save me, but no one came. I thought I was gonna cry, but I didn’t. I guess not much had changed. I’d grown big, but small things like this still got to me. Well, at least money was gonna pour in. It would pay my bills for a full week or two, hopefully.

I didn’t get to shower. Also, I didn’t get any action. Fudge. It wasn’t my night tonight. But at least I had a wad of cash in my hand. I guess it was worth it. I didn’t know a gigolo could earn so much. I guess I was now officially a male slut. Hmm … so, yeah ladies, call me up sometime.

I phoned a friend. I didn’t want to be alone tonight, “Hey, can I come over? I need company.”

“Sure. I’ll text you my address,” I could almost see him smile as he said that with hospitality.

“Thanks Harold. I owe you kiddo,” A part of me wanted to say I love you, but I kept it to myself.

I needed a place to stay other than my own. And I didn’t want to crash at Collin’s either. I wanted to be with someone who could make me feel loved and valued. I knew that Harold wasn’t gonna make me feel like a stupid fire hydrant that dogs peed at. He respected me. I think.

It was an embarrassing cab ride to Harold’s. I paid extra because it wasn’t Ponce who drove me this time. I’d probably have gotten a free ride had it been Ponce, but yeah, it wasn’t. It was some drunk who smelled just as badly as I was. We were a heady mix of pee against the leather settees. It was like being inside a men’s public bathroom that hadn’t been cleaned for eons. s**t.

I got out of the smelly cab, went up a few flights two at a time then knocked on Harold’s door.

The door opened, and I was immediately welcomed by the smell of fruits. He smelled so tropical and fresh that I felt undeserving of his virginity. I was expecting him to flinch or make a face at the smell I knew I had in copious amounts, but he didn’t. He just smiled and offered his home to me. His hospitality melted my heart. He was such a refined young gentleman. Or was it because he was Asian? His people are known for their hospitable ways. I guess that would explain it.

His place was modest and kind. There weren’t a lot of clutter. He only had the basics. It made me feel appreciative of what I had back home. I thought of showing him my own place sometime. I wanted to make her Queen of my abode. I knew he was gonna like my place because I had a flat screen TV, an Xbox, a Playstation, a Wii…ner that’s huge, and all the other things a young man like him would fancy. Hmm … it made me wonder. How young was Harold? I never asked him.

The soapy foam rose in the tub as I submerged myself in its waters’ warmth. Bubbles fizzed like a carbonated drink as I walloped like a child in Harold’s bath. He entered the room. I didn’t mind his presence. I actually wanted him to join me, but then there wasn’t enough space in the tub.

“They’re meanies aren’t they?” he expressed with eyes that were downcast. He felt bad for me.

“Yeah … tell me about it,” I sighed heavily while squeezing the soaked sponge over my head.

At that moment, I felt a dull ache spread through my chest. I didn’t want to be alone tonight, “Harold.”

“Yes?”

“Can we ah, could we, um,” I couldn’t say it even if my body wanted to. I gave it a few seconds, “Can I love you tonight?” And even in warm water, I felt butterflies metamorphose in my stomach.

I felt something cathartic, something healing when he smiled at me. It was all I needed to hear.

I took extra care of him this time. I didn’t want to leave bruises on his beautiful fair skin. I made him pillow his head over my left arm, while my free hand explored his body. I enclosed my lips to a kiss over his shoulder as I spooned him. My heart was beating rapidly as I licked across his nape going down. I was so turned on that in mere seconds I was jutting hard between his thighs. At this moment I didn’t care about the condition that sped my heart. If I were to die, I would do so right here as I cradled Harold in my arms. I could die knowing that I spent my remaining hours with a young man who had managed to take my breath away the first time I ever saw him at Wal-Mart®.

Harold’s skin was warm and flushed, with a kind of sweat that smelled like fruity succulence. He pushed against my erection as I palmed his s*x. His breathing was uneven, as heavy as mine was. Oh God forgive me. I couldn’t stop smelling him even if I tried. He smelled of cherries and bananas. It was a weird lovely scent, quite virginal, but dangerous at the same time. I couldn’t stop sniffing the back of his hair. He was the cleanest partner I ever had. His inexperience was immensely attractive.

I pulled myself down the bed sideways then pushed my nose between his butt cheeks. I lifted a tongue and snaked it into his damp entrance as I groped his sac into frenzy. He was wetting against my face, but that didn’t stop me from roving my tongue around the warmth of his inner thighs. He rasped my name several times and all it did was harden me even more, “Har, why do you taste so good?”

I felt for his tip and noticed that it was already leaking. So I grabbed his junk to keep his blood from pulsing. He cried my name and begged for me to enter him, “Harold, are you sure about this? You were in pain the last time,” I didn’t want to hurt him again. I remembered him bleeding the first time we did this. And it hurt me to see him cry, “We can just jerk each other off,” was how I negotiated.

“No. I don’t care. Just please make love to me. I need you. Everything hurts right now,” I too was in pain from trying to curb the pressure in my groin. But Harold’s safety came first. I didn’t want him hurt.

My breathing became labored the minute I spat in my palm. I knew I was going to hurt him, but the pain of suppressing my carnal urges was just too much to bear. I needed to be inside his slick heat. And so I massaged and scissored to loosen him up. He was so warm down there. I could feel the spasms push down my extremities as I frisked the outline of his ring. He groaned as he rode my fat finger. I took my time for I didn’t want to shock his system. I needed him well-lubricated.

His body arched as I pushed deeper and whirled. His breathing caught up as I hit something inside that tickled him. It was then I knew that he was ready for me, “Now, Matt. I want you inside me now. Please, I really need you. I c-can’t hold it much longer,” I saw his tears as I turned him around to face me. He was his most beautiful when he winked away the water in his eyes.

I pushed my body between his legs, and then buried myself slowly an inch at a time. His muscles down south shuddered and clenched when I managed to sink half my size. His mouth hung open then he closed his eyes. His breathing fanned my face as I met him nose to nose with every plunge. His knees curved around my waist, and I held on to them for support as I made love to him, “Harold, look at me. Are you okay?” He slowly opened his eyes and nodded in response.

Even if my tempo was slow, it still was rhythmically pleasurable because of how tight he was. His inner skin folded against my length as I pumped him with affection. He made to meet my motions by bouncing down. He was helping me make love to him, and I adored him for that. He was such a brave young man who tolerated how thick I was. Others would have bounded out in tears, never to glance at me again, but not Harold. He was different. His body was made for love.

I feathered the sides of his mouth with kisses, going down to the sides of his chin. His lips were the softest I ever kissed, and they tasted like cherry lip balm. He bit my lip, but not so much that it hurt, and then whispered that I go faster. And so I did. I grabbed his hips and then pounded into him to take us both closer to nirvana. He pulled and jerked at his while mine disappeared and re-appeared past his nether lips. Our rhythm was glorious and fast. And within seconds, I felt a small tickle erupt into a grand release as I came inside him. He produced the same in his hands as he jerked and arched his body against me. I pulled down to mash my mouth with his, nibbling and suckling each lip into my mouth as I licked his tongue to meld with mine, “I love you, Matt.”

The words were what I needed to hear from him. And as I slowly pulled out dripping, I knew that we made a connection, a union that no one could sever, “I love you, Harold. I really do.”

I looked him in the eye as he did mine. My heart steadied when I told him that I loved him. He took my face in his hands then pulled me down for a passionate kiss. At that moment of stunning clarity, I made to forget my past. What mattered was my present, as Harold and I became one.

Three people huddled inside the Principal’s office while the children played outside. The kids chased each other with vigor and delight. They shrieked with glee, and moved with unbridled energy through the monkey bars. Their giggles and laughter seeped through the narrowed slits of the office windows as the three people sat to discuss the well-being of one Matthew Holston.

The three serious faces looked outside through the blinds. They turned their gaze from the children to the one boy who was playing happily with Lady Deathstrike, a name she was dubbed for sporting three sharp pencils between fingers in each hand. Now, even Matty had three pencils planted between his fingers. Guess that made him Wolverine then. They clawed at each other like they were mutants. They were so adorable to watch. They were very close to one another.

Burgundy smiled a quiet frown. It was an odd expression. She wasn’t smiling nor was she frowning. It gave her a look of melancholy as she spoke, “Yes. I’m afraid we have to. This isn’t the place for him anymore,” She conceded to a tough decision she knew would break her heart.

Charles nodded his affirmation, “We’re just concerned about Matt. It’s not a problem to move to a different part of town,” His tone was more relaxed than Burgundy’s. Though at the back of his mind, he knew that the transition would prove jarring, for he planned on moving Matt as far away as he possibly could. Away from all the mischievous prattles that kids were known for.

The Principal compromised with an empathic tone, “I understand Mr. and Mrs. Holston. It hasn’t been easy for him,” She too was quite young to be promoted to her station. It was as good a guess as any that she was a prodigy herself, “Matt is gifted … and I meant that in every sense of the word,” Her voice was enveloped with sympathy and regret. She knew that the kid had a bright future, but he wouldn’t get it in a place that was as dark as this. She needed to let him go.

There came a pregnant pause. As if they were overwhelmed by a wave of sadness that they didn’t know how to overcome. The young principal made for conversation to break the silence, “Any plans on which school you will transfer him to?” She asked, trying to hold back the tears.

“Happy Kids Childcare, at Byron Avenue near Miami Beach. Matt loves the water,” Charles disclosed the location of Matthew’s would-be school.

Burgundy nodded and pushed a smile, “Yes. Matt loves the water. He actually said that if he were to wed, he’d like it somewhere near the beach.”

The thought made the principal smile. She didn’t understand why, but the sadness on her face faded into a look of wonder for the young man. Rarely did a child like Matt come by, and even if he only stayed for a while, it was as if he left an indelible mark in her heart, “He thinks ahead. You guys are lucky to have Matt. He is a gifted child.”

The three adults stood, and then made their way outside to join the less serious children, “Matt, honey, it’s time to go. Say your goodbyes,” Burgundy choked, trying her best to stifle a tear.

The child wonder did not budge. He knew that his connection to the one friend he made was about to be severed. There was something heartrending about saying goodbye to a best friend. He loosened his grip, letting the pencils fall on sand. The girl gave her a look that racked every bone of his body to frisson. Tears pooled around their eyes. It was time to say their goodbyes.

Matt pulled a brief smile, and then regarded his friend at arm’s length. He leaned close and rubbed his nose against hers. It was a moment for the two of them. It was a sad, sad goodbye.

“Goodbye Quinn…”

“Take care, Matt…”