Do you remember that unkempt yard I told you about? The one on the way to Johnny’s house. When we were going to play king with Gary. The one where I got the poppies for his hair, and behind his ears? Well, about two weeks after Gary’s coronation, I was walking down to Johnny's, because I thought we should go over to Gary’s and go swimming. I immediately saw Johnny standing in front of the unkempt house; he was on the sidewalk, facing the house, and something had his complete attention.
got closer, I saw that he was talking to a boy who was standing in the middle of the yard; I came up next to Johnny, but because there was company, I “Johnny,” I yelled with a wave. He waved back but stayed right there. As I didn’t touch him. Sometimes, when we meet, we might pat each other affectionately, or even kiss. But we’d never kiss in public or in front of anyone but Gary.
“Dave, meet Roberto, Roberto—Dave.” Johnny introduced us as I went up to the rather dilapidated fence that ran along the sidewalk and offered my hand. Roberto shifted the rake that he’d been holding and we shook hands; he had a pleasant grip. We exchanged ‘hi’s’ and then Johnny shook hands too, saying, “I guess we should shake too. Roberto works here sometimes,” Johnny expanded. I looked around and noted that the rake had created two piles of trash, one on each side of the walkway and that the flowerbeds—which contained a few clumps of poppies—were now free of leaves, twigs, scraps of paper and all the other oddments that seem to appear all by themselves to make more work for boys who would rather be doing almost anything else. Roberto was explaining the circumstances in the house: apparently the owner (whom I’d never even seen) was ill and his daughter was moving into the house to help take care of him; she had hired Roberto’s older sister to help her out and Roberto was getting all sorts of odd jobs that the two women didn’t want to do.
I wasn’t paying all that much attention because I was looking at Roberto, a very attractive boy. He had beautiful coal black hair that fell in wide curls; it was longer than any of ours; he had dark brown eyes, flashing white teeth that smiled through these wonderful heart-shaped lips; he had a lovely light brown tan and was wearing a silver chain with some kind of medallion around his neck. His neck had a really elegant line to it that made it seem to sweep. Like maybe he could fly if he really wanted to; he was also wearing one of those sleeveless t-shirts that was way too big for him, and a pair of cut offs that were likewise way too big. He had to wear a belt to keep them up and the waistband was bunched in several places where he’d tightened the belt; they were way too long also, the frayed hem came down to his knees and his legs were beautiful and were meant to be seen. As it was, there would have been very little point in climbing a tree with him because you wouldn’t be able to see anything interesting. This outfit, however, accented his slender physique, and the fine lines of his graceful limbs. He was also wearing sandals. An article of apparel that had yet to appear in the high end shops we favored.
Granmum was funny that way. She could be very practical, she could be very frugal; but her pearls were real.
I forgave Roberto all of these infractions. He was obviously not in control of his wardrobe. Neither, for that matter, was I. I still went barefoot or in sneakers, t-shirts could come off or on, at the whisper of whim; but I was now wearing khaki shorts with razor sharp creases. Granmum had observed this style on Gary and approved the look. So that was pretty much that for cut offs. On the day that I had been preoccupied with bringing Gary and Johnny together, she had gone shopping for shorts for me, had of course succeeded in her quest, and now I had several pair in muted colors and that is what I wore. Actually, I liked them. I never wear underwear when I wear short pants, and there was a lot more room for me in these shorts than I ever had in cut offs. There was a feeling of freedom that I really liked. Of course, I complained about the shorts to authority whenever the opportunity presented itself. Authority cared not.
I looked at Roberto’s waist wondering if he was wearing underwear, but could see no sign of them. I knew that Johnny was not. I noted that Roberto had a tiny tuft of hair in his armpits, but none was visible on his chest, most of which was visible because of his saggy shirt. I liked Roberto’s long, graceful hands, and the way his ears were neatly tucked against his head so that his hair sometimes fell over the top of his ears. Very daring.
“We're sposed to go to Gary’s,” I pointed out.
“Yeah. I know…well…see ya,” Johnny sounded reluctant, as he smiled at Roberto.
“By Roberto. See ya soon,” from me.
“See you guys.” from Roberto. He smiled a little wistfully I thought.
When we got to Gary’s, we went in the backyard gate as we usually did. Gary was naked by the pool, fishing leaves out with that long aluminum pole with the scoop screen on the end. He grinned, we waved, and as the door to the house was now standing open, went into the room that I had decided to call a den; though I sometimes thought, when I was feeling a moment of drama, that it should be a veranda. We were going to pay our respects to Commander Van der Leyden, Nurse Corps, United States Navy. We stood in the doorway and chorused: “Good morning, ma’am.” (Gary had taught us a lot more about the Navy than just how to tell time ‘properly’.)
“And a fine good morning to the two of you,” she smiled over the rim of her glasses. Unlike most of the ladies in our world, she did not immediately attempt to feed us.
“I’ll be at the pool,” Johnny announced as he disappeared in a twinkling. I remained to discuss the possibility of a trip to the beach for the three of us. Transportation was the problem. None of us were old enough to drive (though I knew how because I lived on a ranch and there was a pick-up truck that was, for all intents and purposes, mine; I let everyone know that I had the truck and the skill to drive it, too). Of the three adults available for transport, the Commander seemed the most likely prospect: simply put, I wanted the adult to drive us to the beach and drop us off, like about nine or ten in the morning, and then disappear; I wanted them to reappear about five or six in the afternoon and bring us home. Johnny’s mother was clearly out as she was always gone most of the day, and sometimes late into the evening, what with office work and showing real estate and all that stuff. My grandfather, equally, was absolutely out of the question. It would become an expedition: there would have to be an umbrella, a pick-nick basket (“an hamper” as he would have it), beach blankets, assorted lotions, and worry. We would be under close observation whenever we got within ten yards of the water; if we got to the water, he would be at the surf line, ever alert for cramps, rip-tides, killer whales, and every other peril of the sea. Certainly, we could not be naked. Then, it would get too hot too quickly (“you’ll catch polio in this heat”) and we would have to reload our expeditionary force, and there we’d be, motoring home by two o’clock in the afternoon at the latest. There would have been too much of that old fashioned love.
There was some loud whooping from the pool and some serious sounding splashes.
I think the Commander liked us, she looked smilingly thoughtful and said that this might be possible. The likelihood of success improved dramatically as she began to itemize the penalties that would be exacted if we behaved irresponsibly in any of several different ways; or failed to be at the designated pick up spot at the appointed time. She thought this might happen, possibly as soon as next Thursday, but she’d have to check with the hospital first. I thanked her sincerely. None of the sins she had listed were among the ones we were planning.
I went out to the pool, shucked my shorts with no concern for starch or creases, and dove in with Gary and Johnny. I swam to the end, clambered up the ladder and went to the closet in the dressing room where the masks, snorkels, and fins were kept. I selected a mask with the snorkel attached, ran back to the board and I caromed off the diving board with a glorious splash. Earlier, I had explained to Gary how I liked looking at him under water and he’d introduced me to mask and snorkel. Now I’d be able to watch two beautiful boys naked underwater. The view was enchanting. It was live art. They weren’t doing anything but being beautiful: splashing, wrestling, trying to dunk each other, grabbing, rubbing, floating together easily, from time to time, as they caught their breath—captivating.
At first, I had been reluctant to go skinny dipping in the pool when the Commander was present, given all the authority that she represented as a Commander and as Gary’s ‘Mother’; but Gary had pointed out that she expected it, and that she was a nurse and dealt with naked people all the time. This made sense. Plus I really do like to swim naked.
I quickly regretted not getting fins, too, as that would have given me a great speed advantage for sneak attacks on Gary and Johnny, but without the speed advantage; well, it couldn’t possibly be as much fun. I considered our tan lines for a while. They were almost gone. I kind of regretted that because tan lines are really sexy in their own way; but of course, no tan lines are sexy too. If we were in Siberia we’d almost certainly not have tan lines, but we’d still be sexy as hell.
I practiced snorkeling for a few minutes until I noticed that I was alone in the pool. The recliners were empty too. Into the dressing room I charged where there was great sexy fun in progress. I joined at once. There was no game being played here—just passion.
We showered and relaxed in the recliners for a bit. There wasn’t much time left as Gary’s Mom was taking him off to the base to get some shots. He was all ‘no big deal’ about the shots. “We get ‘em all the time in the Navy. Foreign travel ya know.” He had shrugged them off. Personally, I don’t care much for shots.
The Commander yelled for Gary so Johnny and I got dressed and said our goodbyes. The Commander startled me somewhat by giving us both a parting hug.
When we got to my house, we just went ahead and volunteered for lunch. I was really hungry. I’d worked hard all day. I mean, think about it. I’d been scheming and planning, sucking and fondling, swimming and sunning—and all of that just since breakfast. Makes me tired just thinking about it. Soon we were tucked into grilled wurst sandwiches with onions and melted cheese on rolls, Fritos (a favorite of mine), and those really crisp Polish pickles that I called ‘smack zee y-robs’ in an effort to pronounce the oddly printed label.
Granmum, tea in hand, joined us at the table. “I hear that Master Gary has a colored girl working at his house. Is that true?” ‘Danger…danger’ chimed my internal alert. Certainly, you could take it to the bank that she already knew the answer to that question. Extreme caution was in order. You see, “master” is one of those double-edged words; it could be just a meaningless formality to be endured like if you’re being introduced, or some such. But if Granmum said “Master David”, or “Master “Jonathan”, or “Master Garrett”, it could almost certainly mean big trouble. Trouble, like they say, with a capital “T”.
“Yes ‘um, they do.” I rushed on. “Gary’s Mom’s a really important Nurse and needs the help at home because she’s so busy at the hospital and Gary’s Dad’s the Captain of a ship over by Japan and can’t be home at all.
“She’s a really neat lady and fixes us lunch a lot. Good lunch, too, not PB and J or stuff like that.” I congratulated myself on what I considered to be a stroke of genius establishing a commonality with Miss Jean and Granmum on the importance of feeding us. I thought this was a good touch and I wish that I could say it was intentional. But it just sprang out.
Now Granmum held to a notion of something called “Good Christian Work.” This notion was vague and defied definition; but she could pluck it out of the sky, kinda like Johnny coming-up with a new rule for a game we’d played many times before without it; a rule that invariably benefited him. Granmum could then bestow this approval, like a blessing, upon one endeavor while viewing another effort, without the blessing, with something between distant disinterest and withering contempt. As best as I could figure, if you were never finished with something: it was Christian. Thus cleaning a stable, or doing the dishes were “Good”. Building the stable, or the kitchen, were not. In this manner, the notion stretched mysteriously on.
“What do you call her?” She continued. I breathed easier; this was about manners, not about sin.
“Miss Jean. We call her Miss Jean.” With the guilelessness of absolute truth.
“Good.” Relieved, she bestowed her blindingly beautiful smile on us; but she had a point to make. “Always speak to her politely. Keeping house is Good Christian Work. And under no circumstances are you ever to mention her color in any way. And that goes for you, too, Master Johnathan. Is that clear?”
“Yes ‘um,” we replied. It wasn’t a chorus because one of us had to finish chewing and swallowing before responding. Failure to do so would, of course, have been trouble with a little ‘t’. We chatted about summer pleasantries for the rest of lunch. We asked to be excused to go outside, rinsed and stacked our dishes, and burst out into the glory of the afternoon.
I took Johnny to the walnut tree and expounded on the problem of the tree house. If this were to become reality, it would be up to us. The spectacle of Pobbin in necktie and French cuffs building a treehouse was too funny for words. Seriously! He would remove his jacket and put on this big apron, and then work in the garden with his tie on and his cufflinks gleaming. He even had a sun helmet he wore.
We selected a few ripe apricots from the nearby apricot tree and then saw Roberto trundling down the sidewalk with a wheelbarrow. So naturally, we had to hail him and dash to the sidewalk, offer an apricot, and find out what was going on. Nothing was going on, of course; but it took a few moments of idle discussion to determine this. Then too, we were eating apricots. They were juicy and delicious. Granmum appeared on the front porch, so we introduced Roberto. Roberto was like Gary: he “Ma’am’ed” with complete propriety, and while being named, he gave her a little bow. Perfect.
Granmum had neighborhood concerns, however, and skillfully elicited all the latest from the house with the unkempt yard. During this we learned that Roberto’s sister was not really a maid, as Johnny and I had at first assumed, but was more like a nurse who cooked. I listened to Granmum as she visited at Roberto and I learned that the owner’s name was Astimendi; Granmum knew that he “poor dear” had been gassed in the “Great War” (as distinct from the more recent one which was just “The War”) and he had suffered ever since. She learned that it was his eldest daughter who would be moving in, but as she also worked, she could not be there all the time; she learned that his son was still out amongst the hang jongeren and so was of neither assistance nor account. Roberto only worked there every once in a while for specific tasks. Roberto bore up beautifully under all of this and I’m sure that he had given Granmum a great deal more information that I had missed. She beamed on him approvingly, told him that he must not let me and Johnny lead him astray, and swept back into the house.
Roberto said he had to go and we watched him wheel off down the sidewalk with complete approval. Johnny said, “let’s get naked in the jungle.” I thought this was a grand idea, so off we went and did.
We were sitting in the usual corner and we had the book that Johnny’s Father had bought out and were discussing it. Johnny was discovering all kinds of new words. Like “scrotum”. Who could have possibly come up with such an ugly word for something so silky and beautiful? There were others, but I was only vaguely listening to him. I was enjoying the moment. The warmth, the mottled shade and sunshine. Johnny’s beauty. Those sorts of things.
We had spread towels in this corner, but they were over a thick bed of leaves from the cherries. So when I stretched out to lay on my side, there was some considerable rustling. Then Johnny also shifted onto his side; he was propped on his elbow as he read and had lifted one knee to point skyward. It was a gorgeous pose for reading and I feasted on the view as he droned on, something about ‘semen and the prostate gland’. Somehow, the rustling seemed to last a little longer than the motion Johnny had used to strike his current pose. I rustled the leaves with a foot, and the rustling stopped when I stopped. I wasn’t really worried. Granmum would never come all the way out here looking for us, she would call us in, or clatter out the screen door if she had some chore or other. The Packard and Pobbin were out and about. In any event, Pobbin would usually leave the Packard running in the driveway and call for me to put it away. So there’d be plenty of time to get decent no matter what. It occurred to me that Gary might be planning a sneak attack. But they’d barely had time to get to the base and back, much less get shots. Maybe a change of plans. But I was suspicious now. Then I heard some rustling when both of us were still.
Johnny droned on about how erections happened and why. I rustled in the leaves and started a surreptitious scan of our jungle. I made no sudden movements, languidly stretching and relaxing as though I had not a care in the world, as in fact, I did not. My attention became riveted on a slender brown foot, in a tatterdemalion sandal beneath some branches that partially covered our path to this nook. This is interesting. How did Roberto find us? Why did he come looking for us so quietly? What did he think about us being naked? I did not look-up, not wanting to risk eye contact yet. I thought about saying something like, “come here Roberto”; or, “we know you’re there Roberto”, something like that; but instead I whispered to Johnny, “Roberto’s watching us.”
You gotta hand it to Johnny. He didn’t miss a beat in his discussion of the contents of “ejaculate”, calmly continuing on until he came to a pause in the text. “Tell him to come here,” he whispered and resumed reading normally.
“Roberto. We know you’re there. Come ‘ere.” There was a short pause, then with a gentle rustling, Roberto stepped onto the path and into our nook. He’d taken his shirt off and it was dangling from a back pocket. I thought that his cut offs were riding a little lower; they seemed kinda tented over his crotch, but I couldn’t be sure because they were so baggy.
Johnny and I remained completely naked and made no effort to cover up. We weren’t hard and had done nothing in our nook this afternoon. I was already considering explanations involving Johnny’s Father’s book, just in case Roberto took it into his head to tell someone we were naked in the bushes. The ‘circumcision’ thing, would I thought, be a perfect explanation should one be needed. Roberto didn’t seem threatening or anything. In fact, he had a kinda wistful half smile that showed a little sparkle from his teeth. I again noted how beautiful his eyes were, and I loved the way his eyebrows started well back from the bridge of his nose, almost on a line with his eyes, and arched gracefully for almost the exact length above his eyes.
“Hi,” from Johnny, “what’cha doin’?”
“Well.” Long pause during which I noted that his eyes were roving all over us as if to drink of our nudity. “I. Uhm.”
“Let’s be friends,” I offered. “Here. Sit down,” and I resumed an Indian style seat while patting the leaves for Roberto while Johnny remained sprawled just like before.
Still the wistful smile and another long pause. “I. Uh. Kinda. Er.”
I reached over and pulled gently on his big toe, “Whyn’t cha take off yer sandals? Barefoot is fun, ya know.”
“Well?” Johnny asked.
“He means, ‘do yah wanna be friends, or what?’” I amplified. “Cuz it ain’t real nice sneakin’ around in the bushes. Ya coulda just said ‘Hey’, ya know?”
“Yeah. I wanna be friends and all. But. You know.” And of course we knew very well what he was trying to say. You can’t just go up to a guy and say, “Let’s be pals and get naked”; you needed to be way surer of things. Then too, we were naked gringos and he was Mexican and that doesn’t always work so good. You had to admire him.
“We like to be naked,” Johnny commented. You could see Roberto blush, he didn’t go red, but he darkened a little and looked down.
“Sometimes we go to Gary’s and go skinny dipping.” Me broaching one of my favorite topics in the world. “You ever go skinny dipping? Have ya met Gary?”
“Not yet.” It was getting easier for him to talk. “No, is he the dark haired guy? I seen ya talkin’ to him once.” I smiled. He hadn’t been skinny dipping, but he hadn’t ruled it out either.
“Yeah, That’s him. We’re kinda like The Three Musketeers.” He looked blank. “It’s a book where these four guys are best friends and do everything together.” I explained.
“Four guys?” He wondered not unreasonably.
“Yeah, First there were just three, but then they met this other guy, so there were four. But they already had the nickname so they were stuck with ‘Three’. Even though there were four of them. Ya know how names can be.”
“Oh. That’s interesting. But I’ve never been naked with guys before. Except at school, yuh know, after gym, and yuh know what that’s like.” He’d returned to Johnny’s question. He had a real interesting look on his face, it seemed like he was scared and hoping all at the same time.
‘Okay,’ I thought. It’s time to be a little more direct. He wouldn’t be here, and he wouldn’t have answered the way he did, if he weren’t interested.
“Let’s try it and see what’cha think,” I said as I reached over and started to unbuckle his belt. “This has gotta be awful tight.” He flinched just the tiniest bit as I began to undo the buckle. I discovered that he had a boner too, because I arranged for the edge of my hand to rub his front as I reached for the buckle. I’d have said it was ‘on accident’ if he objected but it wasn’t and he didn’t. I gave Johnny a little smile and look as I worked the buckle loose.
Johnny smiled too saying, “Guys do lotsa stuff together.” Saying this he gently stroked Roberto’s leg from thigh to shin. Languidly, just like petting the cat.
Releasing his belt buckle, I ran my fingers around the inside of his waistband. I pretended I was loosening the belt, but I was actually checking for underwear. I found none. I let my fingers slide slowly across Roberto’s fly as if it were the most normal thing in the world. I sat up on my knees beside him and unsnapped his fly. Johnny was gently straightening his legs. I looked at him carefully, he was sitting back with his hands on the ground beside him. His eyes were closed and he was breathing quickly. He wanted this to happen as much as we did. It took me both hands and several moments to unbutton his cut offs as they were so big. But once unbuttoned, it was easy, and we pulled his cut offs down and off.
“It’s nice being naked,” I remarked with passion rising.
“And there’s way more to it than that,” Johnny seconded.
It looked to me like Roberto was equipped with that foreskin thing that the book had mentioned. That me and Johnny didn’t have. And weren’t happy about. I caught Johnny’s eye and pointed with my chin. “Later,” he whispered.
Roberto was lying on his back between me and Johnny. He was a beautiful picture. Eyes still closed, a small barely openmouthed smile, his silver medal lying right at his throat between those two little bones, the chain going every which way—a sparkling contrast to his light brown flesh. But the glory was his sex: his boner was long and slender and was reaching eagerly for his belly button; he had more pubic hair than any of the rest of us, it formed a lovely black bush in a perfect triangle above his triumphant sex.
“You have nice hair,” I commented, fluffing his bush. That was the end of conversation. Our delight in mutually pleasuring each other; our delight in making Roberto’s introduction to sex with boys intensely pleasurable, took over, as passion so frequently does. There was no more talk. Nothing went unkissed; there were strokes and caresses; there were murmured endearments; there was—simply put—passionate love.
“Dios. Dios. Dios.” Roberto murmured as we returned to earth.
Bathed in the glow of sex and affection, we sat around together, like three Indians in the warm rain forest. Roberto said that he didn’t have to work at the Astimendi’s tomorrow, so we planned to introduce Roberto to Gary. Unlike previous introductions, this did not seem like a big deal. We decided that Johnny would go over to Gary’s in the morning and that Roberto would come to my house for lunch. Then I would bring him over to meet the Commander. We thought it fortunate that he would meet the Commander before Miss Jean. That way there would be no question of his being accepted by Miss Jean, who might otherwise have had some concern about Roberto being Mexican and so, possibly, ‘riff raff’. We knew, somehow, that this would make no difference to the Commander. This way, Roberto would be able to go skinny dipping. And stuff.
The plan worked flawlessly. It was a simple one and they’re always the best. Roberto had already charmed my Granmum and she enjoyed feeding him. The Commander was also pleased to meet him and his natural courtesy worked well on her. I think she was pleased to see how many friends Gary was making. Miss Jean was delighted.
We swam, sunned, worked out (you know what I mean) in the dressing room and showered. It was a great day.
I was already thinking of him as Berto.