So Cal Summer 69

by Flip McHooter

Chapter 1

"Oh, geez, Ryan. I didn't see you there." The old man jumped when he heard me come inside the strangely empty and cavernous garage.

"Sorry, Mr. Bailey. I wasn't trying to scare you. I called out your name, but I guess you were trippin' or something," I said as I walked up next to him. He was staring down at his stained and beat-up old workbench, his calloused thumb running over the rough, wooden surface. It was a weird sight, seeing it totally clean and empty like this. It gave me a huge pang in my chest when I realized things weren't going to be the same around here any more.

"You got that right, son. My mind sure was wandering."

"How come? Aren't you packed up and ready to go? And aren't you excited to be moving into your new house? I know I would be."

"I suppose I am. I was just pondering the history that's gone on in this garage over the last thirty-some years. Sure had a lot of wonderful times out here. I'm certainly going to miss it."

"I bet. As long as I can remember this was like, I don't know, kinda like your clubhouse or something. Vin Scully and Jerry Doggett on that old radio you had over there on that shelf. You and your funny old guy friends playing cards and drinking beer. You taught me lots of great stuff out here. Shoot. Remember how sick I got when you let me try one of your stogies? And how mad Mrs. Bailey got when we spilled gasoline on your new power mower and almost burned the garage down? It's gonna be weird not seeing you around out here any more. I'm gonna miss you. A lot. We all are."

"And I'm going to miss you too, Ryan. You have no idea, young man," the old guy said wistfully, putting a shaky hand on my shoulder. "Your family as well. But I'm glad you're here. I was hoping you and I would have a private moment or two together to talk before I have to leave. Let's sit down on the steps for a second. I have something important I want to tell you before I head off to the desert."

"Okay, sure. What's up?" I asked. "It's not bad news, is it?"

"Oh no. Nothing like that. You might think it's a bit odd though," he said. Usually, he rattled on and on, always light-heartedly, but this morning he seemed to be taking his time, I guess trying to figure out exactly what he wanted to say. After a minute or so, he started up again, much more deliberate now, "Ever since Mrs. Bailey died last year, I've been very lonely. I miss her so darn much…"

"I know. We miss her too," I interrupted. I hated seeing Mr. Bailey so sad. "I miss her chocolate cookies with the crispy edges. But I guess I miss her singing the most if I had to pick one thing about her. She was always so happy, too, and that always made me happy," I said.

"Nobody could belt out those old tunes quite like she could, that's for sure. But here's the thing, Ryan. I know she's here with me, not physically of course, but in some sort of otherworldly form. It helps me to know that she's around. And you know, it won't be long before I'll be with her again. I'm actually looking forward to that."

"Don't say that, Mr. Bailey! You're gonna be around for a long time."

"Thank you, my boy. Those are kind words. But it's true. I am old, and the body's wearing out. I've had a very long and blessed life. Lots of great adventures, a wonderful, loving and beautiful wife, and three terrific and healthy children. And I've been extraordinarily lucky to watch you and your brother Jordan grow up from the time your mother and father brought you boys home from St. Luke's Hospital. You're like the grandsons I never had. It's all an old man like me could want."

I didn't know what to say because I felt so sad all of a sudden, and if I did say something, I'd probably start bawling. So I inched a little closer to him and sat there staring down at my feet, waiting for the old man to continue.

"So anyway, like I said, sometimes she talks to me, the missus. And this morning, right when I was starting on my first cup of coffee, we had another one of those little pow-wows, if you can believe it," he said, slapping his hand on my knee.

"Really? I never gave that stuff much thought. But I kinda think it's true, that when we die, we get to go hang out with our friends and family that have gone before us, and we get to zoom back here to see what's going on once in a while. I don't mean like hanging out on big, white puffy clouds, but more like someplace that's so wickedly far out we can't even begin to understand it." I surprised myself when I said that because I'd never given dying and spirits and all that religious mumbo-jumbo a whole lot of thought before.

"Exactly, my boy, exactly. I feel the same way. Like I said before, sometimes she talks to me, and this morning we talked again. You'll never guess what we talked about."

I stared at the old man for a second trying to figure out if this was a joke. Finally, I said, "Okay, I give. I have no idea."

"We talked about you, my boy."

"Me? No way. Why me?" I asked. "I'm just a goofy teenager that lives next door."

"That's just it, Ryan. You're not a boy any more. You're a young man now. Soon you'll be driving, and going out with friends and having your own great adventures, like I did when I was your age. You'll get a part-time job, meet different kinds of new and interesting people and make wonderful, life-long friends. Especially when you go off to college. Hopefully, you won't get drafted and sent to that nasty war in Vietnam."

"I hope not either. Coop's older brother Colt says that's a heavy scene."

"Ah, Cooper and Colton. Such crazy boys. Don't let those two get you into trouble."

"They're not that bad. Those guys just like to prank you on Halloween because you'd get so mad. You should have pranked them back, Mr. Bailey. That would have been boss."

"I suppose. Maybe I'll come back this year and really get 'em," he said with a chuckle. "They certainly won't be expecting it."

"No kidding. That would be so bitchin if you did. Let me know, and I'll help you do it. I never get a chance to get back at Colt. So, anyway, why were you and Mrs. Bailey talking about me? Did I do something wrong?"

"Well, this is the strange part. She told me that you've been worried about who is going to be moving in here. Is that correct?"

"Heck, yeah, I sure have. What if Manson followers move in?" I said. "Or those funny bald guys in those orange robes that dance around down on Colorado Boulevard and over at the airport asking for donations and getting in everybody's way?"

"Ryan, you watch way too much television. That's never going to happen. Listen up. Mrs. B wanted me to tell you that starting today, your life is going to change. In big, big ways. Everybody has a special summer they always remember and this, my boy, is going to be yours. She was very emphatic about that."

"Neat!" I was excited, but then I had a thought. "There's not going to be anything bad that happens, is there? Can it be all good?"

"I can't say because she didn't tell me. But I do know that there's always some bad mixed in so that way, we're aware how good the good really is. Maybe whatever happens that's bad, will make the good even better. Does that make sense? Dang it, I think I might have confused myself there for a moment. I'm certainly no philosopher, obviously."

"It kind of makes sense, I guess. I know all about good and bad. You oughta see my grades! So, did she say anything else?" I asked. "I mean, you guys are sorta leaving me hanging here. What's gonna happen? Who's going to be moving in?"

"A rather unusual and spirited woman and her two teenaged children. Today, actually. That's why this is so sudden. I've met the woman twice but never met her kids. From little bits of things I've pieced together, I believe the girl is a bit older than you, but the boy is your age," he said.

"Bitchin."

"If that means terrific, then bitchin!"

"You're funny, Mr. Bailey. I'm not sure you can pull that word off, but good try. Anyway, do you know their names?" I asked, excited now. It would be cool to have another guy my age up here at the end of our street.

"Lulu – that's her name – didn't tell me her kid's names. But Mrs. Bailey did," he chuckled and slapped my knee again.

"C'mon, Mr. Bailey. You're messing with me like you always do. What's his name? Did Mrs. Bailey really tell you?"

"She sure did. I don't remember what her exact words were, but something to the effect to 'tell Ryan that he and Jake are going to have the most interesting and exciting summer together'. That's pretty much it."

"Wow. That's some crazy shi… I mean stuff."

"Sounds like it to me, too." Before I could ask him another question, we got interrupted by one of the moving guys who wanted Mr. Bailey to do a final walkthrough. After he told the man he'd see him in a minute or two, he continued. "Boy, what I'd give to be your age at a time like this. I envy you, Ryan, I really do."

"Why?"

"So much is going on these days. One day you might be able to go to the moon, or possibly Mars. Think about that."

"That would be crazy, all right. Did Mrs. Bailey tell you anything else?" I asked. I was more interested in the here and now than going to outer space.

"She told me a couple of other things, but I don't want to spoil it for you or ruin the surprises in store. But she did want me to give you something." He stood up and dug around in the deep pocket of his brown wool slacks that he always wore. Finally, he held out a bright, shiny coin in the palm of his hand. "Here. This is Mrs. Bailey's lucky three-dollar piece. She always told me this was her A-number-one lucky charm. Her grandfather gave it to her when she was a little girl."

"Wow. It's a gold coin! That's so cool. Thanks, Mr. Bailey," I said, flipping the coin around in my hand. "And 1854. That's super-old."

"Indeed. It's called an Indian Princess three-dollar piece because the Lady Liberty on it is actually an Indian Princess. Some say it's modeled after Pocahontas, but I wouldn't bet the farm on that. They also say these were made from the gold they mined during the gold rush up in Northern California. Mrs. Bailey kept it with her all the time. Said it brought her protection and good fortune."

"How does it do that?"

"Well, I'm not exactly sure. I suppose when you're in trouble, you could rub the Princess' head to summon the spirits to help you out somehow. There's certainly enough spirits around here in our valley. I imagine it would help you on your next math test, too," he laughed.

"No kidding. Too bad school's out for the summer," I said.

"But seriously, keep it with you, okay? It must be important if she made such a big fuss about it."

"I will. I promise. And thanks. Thanks a lot. And if you talk to her again, you know, that way, tell her thanks and that we really miss her."

"And I promise you, too," he murmured. We sat there in the comfortable silence like we had so many times before. When the moving guy stuck his head in the door again, Mr. Bailey sighed and got up. "Ryan, are you too old for a hug with an old man?"

"Of course not," I said as I wrapped my arms around him, sticking my face into his navy-blue cardigan that smelled so familiar. Like I said, I was sure going to miss him.

It wasn't long after that when my mom, dad, my younger brother Jordy and our dog Sloan came out to say their goodbyes. It was a sad scene, and both my mom and dad had teary red eyes. It was odd to see my always stoic dad looking like he wanted to pinch out a tear or two. Finally, when everyone was talked out, Mr. Bailey took off, heading down the hill in his new cherry-red Buick Wildcat, following the lumbering old moving van.

Everybody was quiet after that. My folks sat on the porch quietly reminiscing, while Jordy and I half-heartedly tossed a chewed-up Frisbee around on the front grass, more for our dog's benefit than ours. I couldn't get into it because I was sad Mr. Bailey was gone, but stoked to meet Jake.


It wasn't more than thirty minutes after Mr. Bailey's moving van turned the corner and down the hill, when the craziest rainbow-colored Volkswagen bus, with big, pink daisy stickers on the hubcaps, no less, came smoking up the street. It was piled high with boxes and a few pieces of ratty furniture that were dangerously close to falling off. As it careened around the end of the cul-de-sac, loudly playing a song by Janis Joplin on the radio, it made me think it was going to tip over on its side any minute, especially when it came to an abrupt stop right in front of us. Witnessing that crazy maneuver made us automatically step back.

Sloan barked once and sat down hard on my foot, totally confused by what was going on. The passenger side window rolled down, and a bored looking girl in an almost see-through purple top barely containing her huge boobs stuck her head out and asked my mom if this was the Bailey house.

My mom, LuAnn, completely oblivious to those big bouncing boobies, said "It sure is, honey. You just missed him. It's okay to go ahead and park in the driveway if you want."

"Thanks," said the girl as the bus lurched forward, squealing into the driveway and slamming on its brakes, barely missing the flower bed.

Since we were curious about our new neighbors, and because we were standing right there anyway, the four of us trooped over to make introductions to see if they needed a hand with anything. My dad offered to help unload the microbus while my mom went around and introduced herself to the driver. I could hear the driver say her name was Annabelle, but insisted that everybody call her Lulu because she was "just a little bit dingy". And you could tell too, because she was wearing a long, flowing sack of a dress with a giant fake rose pinned to it, a huge, yellow floppy hat, and on one foot she had on a blue sock, and on the other a pink sock. Plus, big 'ol sunglasses like Yoko Ono wore perched on the end of her nose. And honestly, you have to ask where to park at the house that you just bought? The name Lulu certainly seemed to fit.

Lulu made a big production introducing her top-heavy daughter, Lisa, as she got out of the bus, and then Jake, as he rambled out of the back and followed his sister to the middle of the wide driveway.

Everybody seemed to be talking at the same time, so I took the opportunity to size Jake up. He looked pretty much like a guy my age, all arms and legs and long, long hair. He had light brown hair that had turned golden blond, slightly wavy, and long enough that it hung down past his shoulders. His bright blue eyes and a goofy grin portrayed a devilish streak. He wasn't necessarily cute, but not ugly either. But when he smiled though, his dimples detonated and his whole face lit up. I thought he was a total fox.

But what caught my eye was the tightest, blue cut-off shorts he was wearing. I had never seen some guy wear them that small. Wow, you could even see the outline of his tackle right there. What would happen if he got a boner like I seemed to get every five seconds? Wouldn't everybody see it, I wondered? Or worse, would it stick out the bottom and say hello to everyone?

Shit, this guy had balls.

Just then, Jake made a beeline straight for me, holding out his hand for me to shake and said, "Hey! How's it going, man? I'm Jake. Jake Mariano. What's your name?"

"I'm Ryan. Ryan Miller," I told him.

"Good to meet you. Your dog's sure friendly. What's his name?" he asked, scratching her behind her ears, her all-time favorite spot.

"Sloan. But she's a girl. And, yeah, she's friendly, but only to people she likes. Guess she likes you. You have a dog?"

"Nope, but I hope we can get one since we have a yard now."

"That would be super neat. We can take them hiking up the trail behind my house. There's lots of things to check out up there."

"Bitchin. Who's the squirt?" he asked.

"That's my brother Jordan. He's irritating sometimes, but generally a good kid," I said.

"Hey. I heard that." I'm sure he had, but his focus was entirely on Lisa. He hadn't taken her eyes off of her boobs for a second.

"All right, little man. Settle down. So Jake, are you going to PHS this fall? What grade are you in?"

"Yeah, I'll be going there. I'll be a sophomore."

"Far out. Me too."

"Bitchin squared. Is it a good school?" he asked.

"Um, yeah. Guess so. It's the only one I've been to so I'd don't have much to compare it to. The teachers are cool, for the most part. I think you'll like it."

"It's gotta be better than my old one. It stunk. So, what's to do here? Any other guys our age around?"

"Yeah, a couple. One's a dork, but the other one I'm good friends with. He's a year older and recently got a car. He has to work to pay for it, so I don't hang out with him that much any more."

"Too bad. But I'm here now," Jake smiled, showing off those great dimples again. "So what do you like to do?"

"Um, the usual, I guess. We have a big pool, and I have a killer treehouse where I like to relax. Do you like cars? I was planning on getting my dad's old Austin-Healy up and running this summer. Maybe you could help me out with that," I said.

"That would definitely be cool! I love old cars. You old enough to drive yet?"

"No, not for a few months. How about you?"

"Not until January," he said.

"Hey, me too."

"Right on. What day? I'm the twentieth."

"No shit? I'm one day older. The nineteenth. That's wickedly strange," I said.

"Ryan! Language, please," my mom yelled. She had supersonic hearing, which was always a problem for me.

"Sorry, mom. Geez."

"C'mon. Let's go check out my new room. I haven't seen it yet," Jake said.

"Good plan." His excitement was contagious, and he totally surprised me when he grabbed my wrist and pulled me running towards the Bailey's old house. Just before Jake and I went inside, I looked over my shoulder and caught a glimpse of my mom yakking away with Lulu like they had known each other forever. My dad was popping open the ropes of the roof-top carrier, while my little ten-year-old brother was still standing in front of Lisa staring straight up at her boob's like he was in some hypnotic trance. She was smiling at him and rubbing the back of his head. I bet if she asked him to flap his arms and fly, he'd take right off. And Sloan, ever the goofball, was running wildly between everybody's legs, trying to figure what these new smells were. I turned around and followed Jake up the stairs, never once taking my eyes off his super round bubble butt. I was definitely going to have to get a grip on myself.

"Which room are you going to get?" I asked, finally coming to and taking my eyes off his fine ass.

"My mom said I could have the one upstairs that looks out over the backyard. She and Lisa want the two bigger rooms in the front downstairs so this will give me plenty of privacy, something I never got at our old apartment. The master bedroom up here is going to be a music studio for my mom, I think."

"That's outasight, because you'll be able to look out your side window and see mine."

"Oh yeah, that's groovy. We can spy on each other," Jake smiled as he raised an eyebrow.

"You know, you're right. This room used to be the Bailey's guest room, and sometimes at night I'd spy out my window with my binoculars and see some of their guests changing clothes or getting ready for bed. They had a big family and used to have a lot of company. One time, I could kinda see Mr. Bailey's niece and her husband going at it. I'll never forget that. Sometimes I'd wonder if they knew I was watching and if they were doing it to show off."

"Sounds kinda pervy, but I like it. Did you pop a boner?" Jake asked and giggled.

"Oh yeah. Just about anything gets me hard, and sometimes it's difficult to hide," I said, laughing too. This was a first. I'd never talked about sex stuff with any of my other friends, but with Jake, it seemed natural. Weird, but natural. "Sometimes at school, I have to put a book in front of my crotch or put my hands in my pocket and move my dick around so nobody would notice."

"I know what you mean. I have the same problem. Since my dad split, mom's been saving like crazy to buy this house, and we haven't had a lot of extra money to buy new clothes. I've had to wear my clothes a little longer than I normally would. And sometimes my pants are too tight, and there's no room for my dick if I get a boner. I've had these shorts since the beginning of last summer. I can't even wear underwear – there's no room. Take a look. See what I mean?"

Jake moved around so I could see the outline of his dick through the front of his tight shorts. Holy shit. This was totally a first. His cock shot down his leg to the right while his balls stayed cupped on his left side. And I knew it! You could see that he was having trouble keeping the tip of his dick from sticking out the bottom cuff of his shorts. I started to get tingly inside, and the blond hair on my arms stood up.

"Man, that looks far out. I should try wearing some of my old, tight pants. I bet I'd get hard just by walking around and having them rub on my cock and balls. I have an old pair of purple crushed cords in the back of my closet that hardly fit any more. I'll have to try those on again."

"You should. It feels good."

"Yeah, but I wouldn't wear them outside my room. I'm too chicken," I said. "I mean, boner and all."

"I get it. But nobody's here but you and me, and I don't care," he whispered. I wasn't sure if I caught his drift, but I did know that his new room suddenly got super-hot.

"Um, okay," was the only thing I could think to say.

"It's fun to get a boner. I didn't have very many friends in my old neighborhood, so my boner was my best friend." He sure was honest. "Wanna see it?"

"Um, yeah, I guess." Oh fuck.

"Bitchin. Pull yours out too," he said quickly. "Let's see who's bigger!" Jake slipped out of his shorts and walked over to me with his hot rod pointing straight out like a blind man's cane. "What are you waiting for? Whip it out."

"Okay. Here goes," I said, nervous beyond belief. I unbuttoned my shorts and let them drop to the floor. As was always the case, my hard boner sprang right up and slapped my stomach. It felt weird to be doing this, but exciting all the same.

Catching me off-guard, Jake grabbed hold of my dick, completely startling me, but I kinda liked it. Then he asked what was wrong with it.

"Nothing. Why?"

"What's this rubber at the end? Is that normal?"

I cracked up and told him "Of course it's normal, dummy. That's my foreskin that covers the head of my cock. All boys are born with foreskin, and for some reason almost all of them get whacked off by something my dad calls circumcision."

"Oh. Never seen one like that before. It's cool."

"You see a lot of boners where you come from?" I joked.

"Well, uh…truth?"

"Oh yeah. I wanna know, now," I said, absentmindedly palming my boner. Seemed like Jake was doing the same thing to his, too.

"Okay, but don't tell Lisa. I've watched her get screwed by her boyfriends," he said and gave a little laugh.

"Oh, wow. Who's being pervy now? That's some crazy shit."

"I know. It was. I'll tell you about it sometime."

"Okay," I said. "You had sex yet?"

"No. You?"

"No. We go skinny dipping at our house, but that's it. I hope to soon, though. It seems like I'm always horny."

"I hear you. So, you wanna have a contest and see who can shoot the farthest?" Jake asked. "I've always wanted to do that. Does that freak you out?"

"Um, no, I guess not. But let's hurry, I'm so horned up that I'm about to blow. And our parents are probably wondering where we are."

"You're right. This isn't going to take me very long either. I'm so freaking horny too."

We took a quick look around to make sure everyone was still busy outside, and then leaned back against the wall, dropped a big load of spit into our palms and started pumping our cocks like crazy. After a couple of minutes, I couldn't stand it any more and let go a big volley of jizz that shot over four feet on the floor. But I was outdone when Jake let loose a string of profanities that I'm sure everyone outside must have heard. He arched his back, stuck his throbbing cock out into the empty bedroom and fired a sperm missile that hit the side of the door, almost seven feet away. Wow. I had some practicing to do, and soon! Still panting, I grabbed a rag that was on the floor and cleaned up the mess with my foot.

"That was outasight. I haven't been able to jack off for a few days," Jake admitted.

"I can tell. Your load went high and wide. Do you always shoot like that? The only reason I ask is that I've never seen another guy shoot before, so I was curious."

"Not normally. I haven't had the chance to spank the monkey lately. It's super tough living in a small apartment with women. There were a couple of times I was afraid I was going to get a period, and then what the hell would I do?"

"Are you serious? Like that's gonna happen," I said.

"I'm just funnin' ya. That was outasight."

"Yeah, no shit," I said. It was much better than that, but I didn't want to sound overeager.

When we caught our breath, and our dicks had stopped oozing and had shrunk back to almost normal, we went back downstairs to bring the last of Jake's stuff up to his room. He didn't have too much since the moving van with the rest of their furniture wasn't due until tomorrow. That gave me an idea. I might be jumping the gun, but something clicked in my head and said that this guy would be a cool friend to mess around with.

"Hey, Jake," I started, "since you don't have your bed and stuff yet, you wanna stay over at my house tonight? We can camp out in my treehouse in our backyard. It's really private, and nobody will bother us. Either that, or we can stay in the pool house. The only person that might bug us is my little brother, but I can get rid of him by paying him off with a new record or something."

"Yeah, that sounds outasight. Maybe we can have another sperm shooting contest," he said, smiling over at me. "That was freakin' bitchin. I'll bring the tape measure this time so we can chart our progress."

"You're funny. I think I'm gonna like you living next door," I said.

"Me too. I'm glad my mom bought this house. This seems like it's going to be a pretty groovy summer hanging out with you."

"Bitchin."

Talk about this story on our forum

Authors deserve your feedback. It's the only payment they get. If you go to the top of the page you will find the author's name. Click that and you can email the author easily.* Please take a few moments, if you liked the story, to say so.

[For those who use webmail, or whose regular email client opens when they want to use webmail instead: Please right click the author's name. A menu will open in which you can copy the email address to paste into your webmail system (Hotmail, Gmail, Yahoo etc). Each browser is subtly different, each Webmail system is different, or we'd give fuller instructions here. We trust you to know how to use your own system. Note: If the email address pastes or arrives with %40 in the middle, replace that weird set of characters with an @ sign.]

* Some browsers may require a right click instead