Chapter 11 - About a Girl.
By the time the boys had cleaned up and stowed everything - and Brian had figured out how to turn the generator off again - It was after nine am. Brian seated himself back behind the steering wheel and took a deep breath before twisting the key in the ignition. Now that it was daylight and there were a lot more cars moving around him, he was feeling a renewed sense of dread at having to operate this whale of a vehicle. Even just pulling out of the rest stop was nerve wracking, with all the smaller, more maneuverable cars zipping around him. Luckily the RV parking at the rest stop had been set up so that the big rigs could just pull in and then pull right out again without having to back up. Brian was not ready for backing up.
Justin had immediately assumed the navigator’s role. The captain’s chair where the second passenger sat was offset a little behind where the driver was positioned - this was because the main door in and out of the RV was on the right side at the very front. From his chair, though, Justin could not only see the in-dash GPS display, but by swiveling his chair around, he could access the built-in computer console set into the countertop behind him. This made Justin the perfect navigator with all possible modern adventure technologies right at his fingertips.
The boy had the GPS system up and running before Brian had even reached cruising speed on the interstate. With the operating manual in his lap for guidance and the computer’s operating manual open on the counter next to the monitor, he was already busy typing and tapping away. Brian was too busy trying to concentrate on keeping the behemoth on the highway and within the lines of his lane of traffic to worry much about what the boy was doing, though. He was pretty sure he just had to keep driving eastwards for about another two thousand plus miles. That was more than enough to keep him occupied.
“This is SOOOOO cool, Brian!” Justin announced enthusiastically after they’d been on the road for less than five full minutes. “The GPS is tied into the computer thingy so you can see the maps on the computer. And then I used the moving thingy to point an arrow at this green dot on the map and it showed all sorts of pictures of stuff around here that we can go to. There’s museums and restaurants and parks and hiking trails . . . Oh, and it shows the closest gas stations - which will be good when we need to get more gas for the RV - and campgrounds . . .”
Justin was quiet for about two minutes while he apparently figured out how to use the computer’s mouse to explore all the adventure potential coming up on the road ahead. “So, we’re about five miles from a town called Baker City, Oregon. There’s a museum there and something called a Farmer’s Market today . . . OH! Oh, oh, oh, Brian! Did you know that we’re following along the Oregon Trail right now! This highway parallels the original trail road. And there’s a museum right off the interstate we can go to. Can we, Brian! Can we, please. Please! I read a great book once about a kid on the Oregon Trail and all his hardships and . . .”
“We can’t stop at every fucking roadside attraction and tourist trap we drive by. If we did, it would take us fucking months to get home and I don’t have that kind of time, Sunshine.” Brian snarked. “Besides, I have absolutely no interest whatsoever in seeing some redneck’s idea of a good time. Next thing you know you’ll want to stop and see the World’s Biggest Ball of Twine or Carhenge or the Leaning Tower of Cow Pies or some other shit. I might have been forced into driving an RV, but I haven’t sunk THAT low yet!”
“Yeah . . . you’re probably right. It probably wouldn’t be all that interesting anyway . . .” Justin’s crestfallen tone matched the dejected face Brian could see reflected in the mirrored surface of the dashboard.
Justin closed up the computer manual book and turned in his chair so that he wasn’t looking at the computer anymore. A quick sideways glance showed Brian that the boy was now just staring dispiritedly out the window and all his effervescent excitement from just a moment before had evaporated. Brian hated that he’d been the one to dash the kid’s excitement and also how easily the younger man had let himself be defeated. And he also hated that the poor kid really hadn’t had any life to speak of before last week - seeing as how his mother never let him out of their fucking house. Could Brian really deny the kid the chance to see one or two grammar school attractions and interesting curiosities?
“Fuck! You’re killing me here, Sunshine. You know that, right?” Brian whined, reminiscent of his best friend, Mikey. “Fine . . . We can go see the fucking Oregon Trail thing, Justin. But you only get one hour. And no more than one field trip a day, so choose your roadside attractions wisely. Oh, and I won’t go see anything having to do with cow shit - I don’t care how excited it might make you.” Brian relented with a scowl. “So, where the fuck do I turn to get to this magnificent ancient trail?”
“Yay! Thank you, Brian. Thank you. Oh, and you need to take the next exit,” Justin directed, and before Brian knew what hit him he was driving his whale-sized RV across sagebrush covered plains towards some hetero tourist trap that he wouldn’t normally have been caught dead in.
The narrow little two lane highway that they had to drive down from the interstate to get to this wondrous adventure spot was a bit of a challenge for Brian. It wasn’t really technically wide enough for his Whale and another car to pass at the same time. He had to sort of swerve partially off onto the shoulder every time another car came down the road. But, somehow, Brian managed to keep them out of a ditch. After about five miles of this, they pulled through a gate with a big sign saying they’d arrived at the Oregon Trail Interpretive Center. Brian parked the RV in the lot - which thankfully had RV parking spaces that he wouldn’t have to back out of - and had barely turned off the engine before Justin was down the stairs and out the door.
The first thing the boy did was run off down the little side trail that led from the parking area to where a ring of authentic replica Conestoga Wagons adorned the prairie. Along with a bevy of ten year old boys, there for the day with their scout troop, Justin spent several minutes climbing in and out of the realistic wagons and reading all the informative educational plaques. Brian just stood off to the side, shaking his head at the kid’s antics and taking the opportunity to smoke a cigarette. When another parent joined him and asked which of the horde of kids was his, Brian laughed uproariously and pointed to Justin, who was now dressed in a printed cotton shirt, a leather blacksmith’s apron and a cowboy hat, and was busy showing another visitor the cool pile of horseshoes and other ironmongery he’d found in one of the wagons. The other parent gave Brian an odd look and then moved away to finish his cigarette in peace. Brian couldn’t resist the temptation, so he headed over directly to where Justin was and gave the young man a big sloppy wet kiss right on his lips. The leader of the boy scout troop immediately moved the rest of the boys away from him while Brian chuckled.
As soon as Brian could get Justin out of his dress-up clothes, they headed into the main museum. The permanent exhibits were mostly a bunch of hokey dioramas that Brian couldn’t have been bothered with. Justin, though, seemed spellbound by everything he saw. He made Brian sit with him to watch a video presentation on the rigors of the trail that gruesomely detailed the numbers of folks that died from various causes along the way. Then Justin spent the next twenty minutes working alongside two little girls to help them pack up a wagon with all the essentials they’d need on the trip - it was an interactive exhibit so every time they thought they’d got the load right, they’d push a button on a nearby console and were told why whatever they’d picked wasn’t quite right.
Brian meanwhile wandered around, not really finding anything much to hold his interest for long until he reached a little side alcove with a plaque indicating this part of the exhibit was called, ‘Sinners and Saints: Indelicate Stories of Emigrants in the West’. That actually DID interest Brian slightly so he headed inside to view the less than savory stories of the REAL people of the west. The gist of this exhibit seemed to be that the original emigrants were quite the bunch of alternative thinkers. Brian was fascinated to read about all the characters who’d made up those original settlers. And, because they were so far removed from the strictures of civilization, the West seemed to be quite the haven for folks who just otherwise didn’t fit in.
There were drawings and original manuscripts from the time and also headphones placed along the walls of the exhibit giving more information on the different facets of the stories that were to be told. Brian came across a particularly eye catching themed story set, ‘To Have and To Hold . . . Clothes Make the Man’, which told the tale of several cross-dressing emigrant women who chose to live their lives as men . . . and mostly got away with it. Apparently, to take advantage of some of the freedoms granted to men, more than a few women took on male roles. A couple of these - the exhibit specifically noted a Charley Parkhurst, who’d made a living as a stagecoach driver in California, and an Idaho resident going by the name Joe Monahan, who made a great deal of money in the mines, but lost everything before settling into cattle ranching - managed to pull off their masquerades for decades, only to be found out after their deaths to have been women, not men. Brian had to respect anyone, male or female, who had the balls to be who they wanted to be in contravention of society and he lapped up those stories. Who would have guessed that Drag Kings had been around a century before it was fashionable?
There was also a large part of the exhibit dedicated to the Native American peoples who were known as Two-Spirited. Brian was fascinated to find that, almost two hundred years ago, gay people in North America were not only accepted but also revered by at least a segment of the nation. And, from what he read, the emigrants that followed the Oregon Trail were at least tolerant of these Two-Spirited People as well. Too bad the practice hadn’t held up in the intervening hundred or so years.
In fact, Brian was so caught up in this particular exhibit that he didn’t have any idea how much time had passed. When Justin finally tugged on his shirt sleeve and told him that the allotted hour for this field trip was up, Brian was actually a little reluctant to leave because he’d just started reading yet another interesting account about how women in the Oregon Territories were given the right to divorce their abusive husbands right from the very beginning - probably because there were so few women in the territory at the start and they therefore held a lot more power. But, Brian didn’t want to be caught out breaking his own rules this early in the game, so he let his Sunshine pull him out of the museum and back to the Whale of an RV.
“Brian, wasn’t that exciting? I’ve never seen so many interesting things in one place before. And look . . . someone even gave me this cool T-shirt.” Justin proudly pushed out his chest in order to display his lucky acquisition.
Brian groaned, only now realizing that this trip would likely involve even more tacky t-shirts on his Sunshine’s behalf. Maybe he could just pretend he didn’t know the boy for the next two thousand miles? Based on the way Justin was hanging on Brian’s arm and jumping around him like a chihuahua on crack, that didn’t seem likely though. Guess he was going to have to learn to deal with novelty tee’s. When Justin leaned closer and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, Brian decided that it wasn’t such a bad deal after all.
As soon as Brian got the RV back onto the Interstate heading southeast, the drive became a bit tedious. There was basically nothing to see outside except endless rolling hills covered with sagebrush and piles of dirt. There weren’t even very many towns through this stretch so there was nothing to break up the boredom. They did stop in a little truck stop at a place called ‘Farewell Bend’, Oregon to get Justin a soda and Brian a new pack of cigarettes, some condoms, and lube - just in case, you know. Justin of course scurried off to read the Historical Marker sign, but other than that, there wasn’t much else going on in Farewell Bend. Brian was happy to wave goodbye when they finally pulled out.
Once they were back on the road though, Brian started feeling antsy. He’d never spent this long cooped up with one guy before. It was far too quiet and there weren’t any distractions to keep them occupied. There was just Justin sitting there, drawing in his sketchbook, or playing games on the computer. Sometimes the boy would even start to hum softly. None of which did dick to lessen Brian’s slight sense of anxiety. He kept thinking that something he wouldn’t like much was about to happen.
“Brian?”
And here it is, thought Brian, almost relieved when the kid started into the conversation that he’d been half expecting.
“Why was that Chester guy yelling at you about cookware yesterday? He sounded so mean. What was so special about those pots and kettles anyway? And what is a coming bucket?” Justin asked with his trademark innocence - eliciting the expected groan from Brian.
“We weren’t really talking about cookware, Justin. Do you know what a proverb is? Chester was accusing me of doing something that he was just as guilty of doing himself. That’s what was meant by the Pot calling the Kettle black - they’re both just as black because they both get blackened by the fire. That’s the basis of that proverb.”
“Okay. That makes sense, I guess. But what about the coming buckets? Is that a proverb too?” Justin inquired.
“No, that was me being nasty back at Chester for saying all those mean things,” Brian paused trying to think of some way of easing the kid into this discussion. “You know that white stuff that came out of your penis this morning when we gave each other a hand job? The stuff you said tasted salty? That’s semen, which is more commonly known as cum.”
Justin was still a bit confused, because he still didn’t know what that had to do with buckets. Or why Brian would be doing THAT with Chester - Justin hadn’t liked Chester much and he didn’t think Brian had been fond of him either. So why would Brian offer him a job? The young man didn’t say anything, though, he just sat and looked over at Brian with a quizzical look on his beautiful face. Brian took another brief pause before forging ahead.
“You see, I first met that guy Chester at this party a few months ago. And while he was there, I saw him going off to have sex with many, MANY, men. He wasn’t very particular about who he went off with either. He just let them use him however they wanted, and I’m pretty sure he wasn’t always being careful. My saying that he was a cum bucket implied that I didn’t think he was being careful and using protection when having intercourse and was being filled by that white stuff aka cum.”
“But he said that you went off with a lot of men too - that you were just as black of a kettle. Does that mean that just like Chester, you’re a cum bucket? And how would you get filled with it. Did you taste it all . . . like this morning?”
Brian couldn’t help but chuckle at the boy’s unjaded rationalization. But a second later, when he realized that Justin had basically NO concept of sex at all and that he was going to have to explain EVERYTHING, his laughter died. Shit! Brian really did not see himself in this role. He was much better at demonstrations than explanations. But, that didn’t seem like it would be enough in this situation. So, with an exasperated sigh, Brian launched into a full-out explanation of the birds and the bees . . . with a decidedly gay tilt to things.
When he was through, Brian looked over at his companion and noted the stunned expression on the boy’s face.
“You mean . . . people actually do that stuff? To each other? You put your willy . . . there? I . . . I . . . Wow! I didn’t really ever think . . . I mean, wow . . . And people LIKE that?” Justin seemed pretty lost for words. “Have YOU ever had someone put their willy . . . you know, back there?”
“Yep. I have. And I liked it, too!” Brian admitted, enjoying the even more shocked look on the boy’s face.
“But . . . wouldn’t it hurt? I mean, it must have hurt A LOT.” Justin was remembering the size of Brian’s willy from this morning, and he looked down at his hand, gauging the size of THAT by the size of his palm and getting even more worried. “How long did you have to stay in the hospital afterwards, Brian?”
Brian laughed so hard at that question that his eyes teared up and he almost ran the RV off the road. “It’s not THAT bad, Justin. I mean, yeah, it can hurt a little sometimes, but that’s a part of it. And once you get past the small amount of pain, it’s really fucking wonderful. It’s actually one of the best parts of being a gay man.” Brian started to explain but then he had a brilliant idea that would also get him off the hook for at least a little while.
“My mother told me about sex, Brian, but she never said ANYTHING about this,” Justin tried to explain his mother’s sex education teachings. “She said that if two people kissed, that one would get pregnant and a baby would come nine months later. She never said anything about my willy or . . . or putting it there! And I think she was talking about a girl and a boy kissing, because I did think that only girls could have babies, although she didn’t really explain that part either and I got a little confused sometimes by everything she would say.”
“If you really want to understand, Justin, I’m probably not the best teacher . . . well, not while I’m driving. I’d be happy to show you more about what happens between two boys once we’re stopped. But in the meantime, why don’t you fire up that computer and check out the ‘Joys of Gay Sex’. It’s a book, but I’m sure you can get it through the internet. It will explain everything. Well, everything about gay sex. If you want to know about straight sex you’ll have to talk to someone else or look it up somewhere else. That shit grosses even me out.”
So, for about the next hundred miles, Justin was pretty much engrossed by his research. Brian kept hearing these little amazed screeching noises from the vicinity of the computer. He didn’t want to interfere though, so he kept his attention focused on the road. There was a lot of clicking and ohh and ahh’ing, so Brian figured that Justin was going beyond just the rudiments of sex positions. And, about the time they were coming up on the road signs indicating they were getting close to Boise, Idaho, he heard Justin sigh as he shut down the computer once again.
“Wow! I really had NO idea, Brian.” Justin finally broke the silence, turning around in his chair to stare at the road ahead of them. “And, you say you’ve done . . . these things?”
“Well, I don’t know exactly what THINGS you’re talking about, Sunshine. But, given my past . . . Let’s just say it’s probable that I’ve done most of what you’ve come across.” Brian admitted.
“And you LIKED it?” It was said more as a statement of fact than as a question. And then Justin fell silent again for a time as he processed all he’d just discovered while Brian waited to see what would come next. “Hmmmm. I guess that I have a lot more to learn about boyfriends than just about kissing and hand jobs and tasting like fish babies . . .”
“That you do, Sunshine. That you do. But, one thing at a time . . .” Brian contemplated all the possibilities of what might happen over the many, many miles yet to come on their journey and groaned.
Brian just hoped that his now much too tight pants, which were painfully constricting his hard cock at the moment, wouldn’t remain that way for the entire trip.
