I rammed another cedar log down the throat of the big red chipper, watching as the wood appeared to simply vaporize when it hit the spinning blades. It was still mesmerizing, even after having spent almost two whole days grinding up trees into popcorn-size chips that Dad would sell for mulch. Or maybe as the world’s most difficult jigsaw puzzle.
I could think of a number of people I wouldn’t mind running through the machine while we were at it.
“All school bullies, take that!” I tossed an 8-foot log into the hopper. “Teachers who don’t give a shit? In ya go!” Another one down the chute. “Pedophile priests! Down the dumper!” That was big log that made a particularly satisfying sound as the blades chomped it up. “All politicians!” Chips flew out the other end. “Spammers!” Just helping to clean up the planet, sir. I looked around, expecting Dave to pass the next candidate from the pile, but he just stood there giving me a questioning look. We were almost out of logs anyway, so I reached over and hit the switch that stopped the chipper then idled the engine. We both took off our ear protectors.
“What was that you were yelling?” Dave asked.
“Oh, um, nothing, heh. I was wishing those logs were certain people I could do without.”
Dave looked into the chipper, where the blades were still spinning slowly, then at the big pile of wood chips, then back at me. “Eww,” was all he said, making a face.
“These are the last of ’em?” I asked, indicating the half-dozen logs piled next to the tractor. “No more out back?”
“Nope. That’s it,” said Dave, who had been using the forklift to replenish our supply from the stacks of sorted logs in the field behind the shed. “Everything else is marked for the sawmill. Or for fenceposts.”
Winter storms had blown down about half of the cedar trees that grew near the swampy area on Dad’s property, and that added up to hundreds of logs. A lot of them would get sawn up for lumber of various sizes, mostly decking, or split into rails for rustic fences, but some trees grew all twisty and corkscrewed and those got ground up into mulch for gardens, which is what Dave and I had been doing the last two days.
That and making a heroic effort to clean up the motorhome. Dave’s parents were back from their trip; actually they had been back for over a week now, and had been on his case to move back home, get ready for school, yada, yada. Anyway, Dad was having one of his big parties this weekend and he invited Dave’s folks along with maybe half the population of the city, so they for sure would want to inspect where he’d been living all summer. So not only did we have to clean up the place, we had to make it look like we hadn’t been sleeping in the same bed all summer, too. ‘Sleeping’, ha!
“Well,” I said, pulling on my work gloves, “might as well get these last ones done.”
Dave pushed the tractor throttle back up to speed then pulled the switch that engaged the drive to the chipper. The engine struggled for a few seconds to overcome the inertia of that big flywheel. Twenty minutes later the last of the cedar logs had been reduced to little pieces and we were shutting down the operation. The mid-afternoon sun hit the pile of aromatic chips and a gentle breeze mingled the scent of freshly cut cedar with the smell of diesel oil and hot machinery. And the heady odour of sweaty teenager! T-shirts had been stripped off early on this hot August day, and now Dave was close beside me as we wrestled the chipper attachment off the arms of the tractor’s three-point hitch. When he leaned over to disconnect the driveshaft I glanced around, then with both hands fondled those awesome glutes, which were so perfectly displayed in his tight, faded Levis and at the same time licked the area between his shoulder blades. Mmmm. Essence of Dave, mixed with cedar dust!
He backed up and wiggled his ass against my crotch. “Hold that thought, dude, I think I hear your Dad’s truck.”
“Aww,” I kissed the back of his neck then backed off, reluctantly. I think the heat and all the vibration from the chipper had made me horny—something sure had—and I might have risked peeling away those jeans to reach the treasure underneath right there and then, only Dave had stowed the driveshaft and was now getting up into the tractor seat. He paused the machine after rolling forward a couple of feet so I could climb up on the hitch arms, then we drove around the building to the main yard. It turned out not to be Dad’s truck we’d heard; instead it was Theo, Dad’s oldest employee, who was now unloading gas cans, tools and stuff. I jumped down and went over, while Dave backed the tractor into its stall.
“Hi Chris, how was your day?” Theo must have been over seventy, but still strong as a horse and looking cool as a cucumber even though he’d been working outside all day in the hot sun. He’d started working for my grandfather, and I’d known him ever since we used to visit my grandparents, when I was a little kid. He was also the only other person on the planet that had guessed about Dave and me. As far as we knew!
“Hey, Dave,” he added as Dave came up beside me. “So, Chris, your dad has been telling everyone about how well you guys did in the race last week.” I must have looked skeptical, because he continued, “I bet he hasn’t said anything at all to you, has he? He probably wouldn’t! I think one of his customers mentioned they saw you on TV, and how wonderful it is that you would do something like that for a good cause. Well, it is wonderful, of course! Not every kid your age would bother. Or be in shape to do it, either. Anyway, your dad is pretty proud, even if he won’t tell you so.”
We helped him shuttle the stuff from his pickup to the shed. As he opened the door to get back in the truck he paused and mentioned, “Oh, my nephew’s two kids from Amsterdam are staying with us for the weekend. I think they’re probably over at the pool, now.” There was a twinkle in his eye as he continued, “There’s something about them you’ll find interesting. And no, it’s not what you’re thinking!” And he slammed the door closed, driving off back down the long driveway to his house. Dave and I looked at each other.
“I guess he meant that they’re not gay, huh?” I didn’t know if I was disappointed or relieved. “But now I’m curious!” I said.
“Yeah, me too, but first I gotta get all this crud off me. I reek, dude.”
“Mmm. But such a nice reek!” I pointed out, as we walked around to the motorhome. As soon as we were inside I tackled him down onto the pullout daybed that he supposedly slept on. “Hehe, we gotta make this thing look more used,” I said while unbuttoning and tugging at his Levis. “Something’s making these jeans tighter, lift your butt!” Dave shifted his body while reaching for my belt buckle. We’d practiced this move many times over the summer, so it only took a couple of seconds to get into the familiar sixty-nine position, and we were both so ready that it wasn’t long before the sudden tensing up, the quickening strokes, then waves of pleasure, overwhelming every other sensation.
After lying there for a minute or two, probably looking like two stunned fish gasping for air, Dave got up to take a shower. I took the blanket outside and shook off all the cedar tree bits. Now that the place was so clean I didn’t want to mess it up before Dave’s mom came to inspect! I carefully checked for cum stains while spreading the blanket back out on the bed, but there weren’t any that I could see.
We didn’t spend much time over by Dad’s pool. For one thing, at the end of the day there were often various guests or guys on the work crew and their families hanging around. But on this hot August afternoon it seemed like a good place to be, and we were intrigued by what Theo had said about his, um… grand-nephews? We tried figuring out the math to guess how old these ‘kids’ might be, maybe in their late 20s, we thought. When we were both washed and changed into board shorts and t-shirts we slipped on sandals and headed over to the house.
As we rounded the corner of the garage and were about to go through the gate to the pool area, I crashed hard into Dave’s back. He had just stopped in his tracks halfway through the gate, staring at something that I couldn’t see beyond the fence.
“Uh, Dave?” I gave him a gentle shove. “Earth to Dave?”
He moved a couple of steps and I squeezed through the gap and looked over in the direction of his gaze. And what I saw stopped me for a moment, too! Climbing up the steps of the pool was a vision of an absolutely perfect specimen of the male human body. He looked to be about 17 years old, blue eyes and light blond hair, flashing a dazzling smile and wearing a small blue Speedo. And standing on the deck near him, drying off with a towel, was an exact copy of the first one, only he had a red Speedo. Then they were standing side by side looking expectantly at us, with identical smiles on identical faces. No wonder Dave was immobilized!
Red Speedo spoke first. “Hi! I’m Peter, and this is my brother Rudy. We’re visiting our uncle Theo.” He advanced, putting out his hand in greeting. “And you must be Chris and Dave.”
“Um, yeah.” I agreed, shaking his hand.
“So… which is Chris and which is Dave?” he asked, laughing.
“Heh. I’m Chris, and this is Dave,” I said, shaking Rudy’s hand as he came over. Dave had returned to earth and came forward to join us, still looking back and forth between the two visitors as we moved over to the row of deck chairs.
“Yeah, we’re identical twins,” Rudy explained, in case we thought they were cloned, or androids or something, I guess. I mean, they WERE identical in every way. Except for the Speedos! “Hehe, don’t worry, we’re very used to how people react. Although, usually my hair is longer than Peter’s, and we don’t always wear the same clothes…”
Peter took over, “…but with these haircuts,” he indicated the short brush cuts, “and without clothing…” he trailed off.
I went over to the outdoor bar fridge and brought back some cans of fruit punch. We pulled the chairs around into the shade and chatted for a while. Dave had returned to his usual outgoing self, and soon the conversation was flowing. It turned out that they had been in Colorado, spending the summer with friends there, doing some hiking and white-water kayaking, and just hanging out. Now they were on their way home to Amsterdam, back to university there—it turned out they were 18—both were studying engineering with plans to work in renewable energy.
Then it was Peter’s turn, and he asked Dave about how life in the northeast compared with Colorado, and what we took in school and so on. I tried to concentrate on what Peter and Rudy were saying, but my attention kept sliding down their toned bodies to the bulges in those little swim briefs. I had to wiggle around and make a casual adjustment to my shorts so my, ahem, interest wouldn’t become too obvious. I watched Dave’s eyes, and saw that he was having the same problem!
“So Chris,” Peter brought me back, “You guys look in really good shape. We were always told that American kids are overweight and spend all their time playing video games, but Theo says you two work hard all week then race for a college bike team on the weekend.”
I pointed out that the people they met in Colorado’s national parks probably weren’t the best samples to base an opinion of the entire population on, and that not everyone at our school liked being outdoors as much as Dave and I did. Also that we had ridden only one race, so far, but it looked like we would be starting a bike team at school in the fall. Then I had to ask, “Um, so do you guys work out a lot? Or how do you get to be in such good shape?”
“Yeah, we work out a lot,” Peter replied. “We’ve been on the swim team for 9 years and the coach is very strict. He makes us work hard all the time, tells us what to eat, when to sleep and everything.”
Rudy added, “Since last year we’ve been doing only diving. And now he wants us to try synchronized diving. He thinks because we’re twins we automatically do everything exactly the same!”
“Let’s move back out into the sun,” Peter said. “We’re not to come home with tan lines down at our knees.” He pointed to the slightly noticeable colour difference there. “As I said, the coach is very fussy!”
It was hot out of the shade, so after shifting the chairs I did a shallow dive into the pool and floated around for a bit. After a few minutes, Dave jumped in and we watched as Peter and Rudy executed perfect dives off the board at the deep end, with hardly a splash. Peter swam over to us, but Rudy did a couple of laps, slipping through the water like a dolphin. When I swam, it was more like thrashing around with lots of splashing! We alternated swimming and lazing about in the sun, with occasional raids on the refrigerator, until Dad’s ex-but-still-hanging-around-girlfriend Janice and some others, wives and girlfriends of Dad’s work crew, arrived to get things organized for the big party later. I think I saw a couple of the girlfriends wiping away drool as their radar tracked the twins from across the patio, hehe!
I suggested that we retreat to the motorhome before getting conscripted into setting up tables and moving chairs and stuff. Peter and Rudy pulled on shorts and t-shirts and I immediately lost track of which was which. The four of us ambled along the path that went along the edge of the fields behind the sheds where there was a little breeze, rather than cross the yard where waves of heat were coming off the dark gravel.
“So much empty space!” one of the twins exclaimed, looking out across the fields to the rolling hills and mountains beyond. “In the Netherlands we have farms, sure, but everything is tightly packed together.”
Naturally, when we got to the motorhome they wanted to see inside it. I let Dave give them the grand tour while I dug the old lawn chairs out from underneath and found a broom to sweep them off. Either Rudy or Peter waved to me from the driver’s seat, a big smile across his face. I half expected him to bounce up and down in the chair while making motor noises. Well, that’s what Dave had done the first time, hehe!
They came back outside and flopped down in the chairs. I caught a glimpse of blue Speedo as one of the twins adjusted the leg elastic under his shorts. Aha! Brown shorts is Rudy. “I can’t imagine driving that huge thing on the little roads back home,” he said.
“Ha! You’d probably abandon it the first time you had to fill the tank,” Peter pointed out. “We pay 1.83 Euros for a litre of unleaded, so what would that be in your gallons?”
Rudy whipped out an iPhone and started poking at it while we watched. “Er, hum… Euro… Dollar… ah, gallon…” he looked up. “So in the Netherlands you would have to pay 9.16 US dollars for a gallon of unleaded, which is over twice what it costs here, I think.”
“How far will that thing,” Peter indicated the motorhome, “go on a gallon of gasoline?”
“Hehe, not very far at the moment,” I said. “The motor has been disabled and the wheels are off the ground! But yeah, probably about 8 miles to a gallon, maybe less off the highway. Crap. That’s over a buck a mile! And Americans complain about the price of gas! Jeez.”
We continued discussing the differences between life in Europe and life in America until we realized that cars had been arriving and we could hear party sounds floating over from the direction of the house. Then Dave’s phone rang, and it was his mom telling him that they were ‘here’ and where was he?”
“I’d better get changed into some other shorts,” Dave said, getting up.
“Won’t you want to go in the pool again?” Peter asked “It’s going to be hot on that patio, I think.”
“Hehe, you two are gonna give someone a heart attack if you strip down to those Speedos in the middle of the party!” Dave laughed.
“Tsk. You Americans! You want your women to wear nothing, yet the men are to cover everything up. It’s like the Middle East in reverse!” Rudy rolled his eyes and the twins started walking back to the house. Dave and I did a quick tour around the motorhome to make sure everything was safe for a parental visit.
“Hey Chris,” he called from the bedroom, “Where did you put the lube and stuff?”
“In the drawer on the left.”
Dave appeared with the bottle of lube and box of condoms and hid them behind the access panel next to the shower. “You don’t know Mom,” he explained.
When we got back to the house the party was getting underway. I recognized Janice’s one and only playlist coming over the speakers. Might have to make some changes to the music, later. Dad was busy starting up a new, even bigger grill thing that he’d rolled up beside the built-in one, with a cluster of guys giving helpful advice while drinking beer around him. I think one of them was Dave’s dad, but I’d only met him a couple of times. Dave went over to him, though, so I’d guessed right.
“Hey Dad,” Dave said, putting a hand on his shoulder and giving a minimalist hug.
“Oh, hi Dave. Whoa—you look like you’ve been outdoors all summer! Hi Chris, how ya doin’?”
“Hi, Mr. Owens.”
“Hey Ben,” he yelled over to my dad, “I hope you haven’t been too hard on my boy!”
Hehe. Ask *me* about hardons and your boy!
Dad looked over, winked at Dave and said, “Your ‘boy’ is a good worker and a fine lad, and we’ve been real glad to have him on the team. I hope he’s gonna be able to work some weekends this fall. We can sure use him.”
“Where’s Mom?” Dave looked around.
Dad said, “She corralled Janice into a tour of the house. She’s already started working on me to sell it! Yeah, right! Ha!” He turned back to the grill. “Uh oh—here they come, now.”
“David!” she swept through the group in a wave of perfume, put her arms around him and gave him a big hug. Then she turned to me. “Chris!” I got a hug, too. Huh. She never seemed too happy to see me before; must have been the trip to Europe. At least she didn’t try to kiss me on both cheeks!
She turned back to Dave. “So, tell me ALL about your summer! You look simply marvelous, dear! Now, I want to see this little trailer you’ve been camping in, where is it? Doesn’t Chris live in this house with Ben? You could have stayed here, too! There’s lots of empty rooms. Well! Show me around, where are all the tractors you told me about?”
I had been quietly backing away, hoping to escape but Dave gave me his most heart-rending puppy-eye look over his shoulder as his mother led him away, and I relented. His dad and I followed along behind as Dave gave his mother the tour.
Mr. Owens said, “I know that Ben has been here since his folks died in that accident, but didn’t you live in Boston with your Mom?”
I didn’t know how well he actually knew the family, so I gave him the short form glossy version of how I wound up moving to San Diego with Mom, then back here. Dave’s parents were so totally different from mine! It was like trying to make casual conversation with the school principal or something! But if Dave was going to be part of my life, and I was hoping he would be, then I’d have to make the effort to be friends with his parents, too. Fortunately, we’d arrived at the “little trailer” before Mr. Owens could probe any further. I could tell from the little double-take he did that he had a pretty good idea how much these fully tricked-out motorhomes sold for!
Dave and Mrs. Owens were already inside, so we climbed the steps and joined them. Dave’s dad was more interested in the mechanical stuff: the dual-energy fridge and stove that worked on either electricity or propane, the size of the water and holding tanks and what had been done to hook up to permanent plumbing. He asked about the system for cranking out the dining area that extended out sideways. He did sit in the driver’s seat, but he didn’t pretend to steer!
Meanwhile, Dave’s mom was examining the kitchen with all the clever built-in gadgets, the bathroom with the tiny shower, the convertible bed up front where Dave’s stuff was carefully arranged. And, as Dave had predicted, she opened every drawer and looked in each cupboard, too. I guess we passed the test, because she announced that it was “very nice, dear”, told me that I was very lucky to be able to live there, which I knew, and then led the way back to the party. At the bottom of the steps Dave and I looked at each other, raised our eyes and let out a deep breath. “Whew!”
More people had arrived and there was a small crowd at the pool watching Rudy—unless they’d switched swimsuits—doing triple somersault dives off the board while Peter sat in the water, on the steps at the shallow end, surrounded by a gaggle of girls. He waved as Dave and I split off from his parents and headed around the pool. We shucked our t-shirts and sandals and got in at the shallow end, too. Two of the girls were daughters of guys that worked for Dad, and Dave knew them from school. Huh. I had no idea they even went to our school! Fortunately, they were more interested in Peter and Rudy than either me or Dave, but we were allowed to join the group, which was nice, especially since it was my house, kinda.
When Rudy did one last dive then swam over and joined us, the pool quickly filled up with adults being silly. Dad actually had to enforce the “no cannonball” rule a couple of times. Eventually the smell wafting over from the grill was too overpowering, so the twins and their groupies drifted over to get some food, with Dave and me following behind, close enough to appreciate those two perfect red and blue-covered swimmers’ butts.
We ate too much, and were beginning to feel the effects of the week of working outside in the hot sun, so Dave and I mostly just sat on the far side of the pool and watched the party go on around us. He’d negotiated with his parents to stay out here until next weekend, as long as he went home on Wednesday to go shopping for school stuff. And Theo said he’d asked Dad if we could work with him on Monday and Tuesday, so that was good; working with Theo meant staying on the property instead of being at a dusty job site in town. And Dad thought we deserved to take Thursday and Friday off, yay! I’m sure we could find something to do, hehe!
Finally people were getting into their cars and going home. Dave’s mom got pretty mushy while saying goodnight, both his parents hadn’t held back on the alcohol. I wasn’t sure they should be driving, but Dave said it would be okay. Rudy and Peter went with Theo and Anna, saying they’d see us tomorrow; Theo would drive them to Logan airport in Boston on Sunday.
Dave and I walked along the path back to the motorhome, the sky filled with stars, fireflies blinking like fairy lights all over the fields. A soft breeze had picked up from the mountains, bringing cooler air into the valley.
Dave stopped walking and sighed, “Aw, man. I don’t wanna go home, dude.”
I hugged him close, and we kissed. A lingering, loving, gentle kiss that said more than any words could, about how I felt right then. Suddenly it was urgent that we get back to the motorhome. Giggling, we held hands and ran the rest of the way, jumping up the steps, locking the door then hopping and skipping back to the bedroom as we kicked off sandals and got out of our clothes. We landed on the bed, hugging each other tight, tongues probing and tasting, bodies humping, our straining cocks moving together. Before long, much too soon, we were crying out as cum covered our stomachs making them slick and wet.
“I love you, Dave!” It was easy to say it now.
“I love you, Chris!”
We lay together for a few minutes, hugging and catching our breath.
“But I’m not finished with you yet, hehe!” Dave got up, reached around the door to get two towels, tossing me one as he cleaned himself off. Then he came back to bed.
“Your little butt would look cute with a Speedo tan line,” he said, tracing one out with his finger.
“Whoa. I don’t think I could ever wear one of those in public,” I said.
“Hehe. Who said anything about wearing one in public? You could get a tan in private, up on the roof maybe.”
“The twins looked pretty hot in theirs,” I allowed. “They’re in really good shape!”
“Too bad they’re not gay. What a waste!”
“Hehe. How do we know they’re not? I bet they don’t think we’re gay, either! They could be plowing each other’s awesome butt right now!”
There was a wistful silence as we pondered that scene.
“I wonder what it would be like, getting a blowjob from your identical twin,” Dave said.
“Hehe. Close your eyes and pretend it’s Alpha Dave doing this.” I leaned over and licked around the head of his cock, sucking it into my mouth while cupping his balls in my hand. This always worked on Dave.
“Wait! I’ve got a better idea!” He rolled off the bed and went out the door. I could hear the access door opening and closing, then Dave reappeared waving the supplies he’d stashed earlier.
“Hehe! Okay, which twin do you want to be first?”