Mooning Mr. Wilson

A Half-Assed Production sponsored by:

Sandra’s Anti-Drug/Butthair Campaign that slogans “Crack Kills!” for good reason

Making trouble for myself has always been impulsive. It’s not something I think about and then decide I’m going to do; it’s just this tug on my insides that tells me it’s time to be naughty. Going with these impulses of mine, at times such as right now, frequently ends up with me on a roof, destined to fall to the ground, crash, and burn.

Miscreant that I am I snuck into Elaine Wilson’s backyard in order to break her out of the house. Unfortunately, her father has, in all eighteen years that he has not only known, but also despised and disapproved of me (due to his homophobic tendencies), set up a fail-safe system that works sixty-two percent of the time.

So here I am, staring down the most fearsome animal to roam our humble neighborhood since little old Prudy’s pit bull, Crusher. The bloodthirsty orbs that gleam at me through the darkness belong to a killing machine by the name of Mr. Will (short for Willikins1).

He inherited the complete opposite of his namesake’s disposition towards me. In other words, just as Mr. Wilson hates me with the intensity of hellfire and brimstone, Mr. Will loves me with a lusty passion that has almost turned my male anatomy into a bonefied feast on more than one occasion.

And yet Elaine still insists that I come to her house every Saturday night and break her out so she won’t have to attend church the next morning. Countless times I risk my life, and more importantly my manhood of all things, to outwit a seemingly innocent cat.

Speaking of that seemingly innocent cat, Mr. Will meows cutely and blinks. Hah! As if that façade will work on me. I know he’s a nympho. I know from experience. I stare through the bleak darkness of early nightfall and watch him warily. He’s sitting in the tree he chased me up and is now blocking my only escape route.

I lean over the edge of the roof considering the jump and my head spins. Two stories doesn’t sound like all that much but I’m sure as hell not jumping down. My ears detect a light ‘thump’ and my head whips around just as Mr. Will’s fur brushes along my bare leg. I instantly retract the limb with a jerk and set myself in a precarious position at the edge of the roof. Damnable cats. There should be a law that bans all cats from jumping the distance between trees and roofs.

Mr. Will advances as he purrs, the sick freak that he is, and I can already feel the itchy rashes I know I’ll have by daybreak tomorrow. Stupid allergies.

“Please, not now!” I plead but Mr. Will won’t have any of it. He rubs his body sensually against my inner thigh.

“Get the fuck off me!” I hiss as Mr. Will zones in on my crotch. Why the hell he does this every time I see him is beyond me. It’s like he’s putting on the show of a sex starved kitten when really he’s a freaky molester! His tongue attempts to hit it’s goal but I roll away effectively tossing him off me before he can wet my zipper as is his usual twisted fashion.

My lips quirk up in a grin as he mewls from where he landed hard a couple of feet away.

“That’s right you fucker—,” my eyes widen before the curse makes its way out of my mouth.

“Ahh!” I cry as my arms flail and my body tumbles off the roof. I close my eyes and my hands somehow grab onto something. My heart is racing and my fingers cramp painfully as the taste of copper fills my mouth. I cringe and clenching my teeth look up to see Mr. Wills mournful eyes. I don’t blame him. Repeated rejection hurts.

I would know.

But alas my arms are starting to burn. I grunt as my mind finally realizes that my body is about to give up and I heave as hard as I can. My lean arms tense with the stress and my feet bounce off the side of the brick house before getting a bit of a hold. I hoist myself through the window and take in my surroundings.

Fuck.

Fuckitty Fuck Fuckers.

I’ve never been in this room before.

Sketches, posters and paintings are creatively placed along the expanse of the dark walls. The dim glow of a blue lava lamp gives everything a surreal lighting that makes me wish I were still up on the roof getting raped by Mr. Will. Various unidentifiable masses loom from the ceiling and my eye catches sight of a glow in the dark mannequin that is nailed to the wall.

Shit.

This must be Elaine’s (sexy) older brother’s room! Well at least now I know where I am. One room away Elaine is probably anticipating my arrival. I throw myself at the door and hope for a speedy escape but as I’m about to open it there’s no resistance.

Because someone on the other side is opening it.

Well poo.

I jump to the side on impulse as the door swings open and bang my elbow against the wall. My arm goes limp and my eyes screw shut in an attempt to rid myself of the familiar trippy feeling that takes over when a funny bone has been hit. The person who just opened the door has effectively sandwiched me between the door and the wall. My heart is pounding and the steady thrum of my pulse beats in my ears.

I want to hiss in pain. I also want to breathe but I’m too scared. The other person in the room is riffling around in some drawers for something. All I can think of is hurry.

“Avery?” Mr. Wilson’s voice calls out from downstairs and I inhale sharply before cursing in my head and hoping that the other person didn’t hear. Footsteps pad over to the edge of the doorway and Avery’s bare feet come into view as he leans out.

“I just got out of the shower Dad! I’ll be down in a minuet!” is the shouted reply. He swings the door shut and locks it before turning away, not even bothering to turn on the other lights in the room. I let myself relax because I still have some cover in the form of darkness.

But now I can’t hide behind the door. Frantically my eyes search for somewhere to hide from… oh dear god. All he’s got on is a towel and he’s pulling his pajama bottoms out of a drawer. I have to do something! He’s going to change right in front of me! My eyes rest on the door and my heart plummets when I realize there’s no way I’m getting out without alarming him because the lock will click and light will spill in from the hallway.

Why, one might ask, am I so scared of being discovered in Avery’s room? The answer: he made it quite clear when we first met as kids (through a series of glares and cruel remarks) that I’m pretty much scum in his eyes. He’s the one that usually busts Elaine and I with her parents when we’ve done something of ill repute. Hence, I really don’t want to spend the rest of my weekend suffering from a headache and ringing ears given to me by an angry Mr. Wilson who found me breaking into his house.

Plus Avery’s extremely intimidating because he’s really attractive. That and if any of the hints Elaine has given are true then his orientation isn’t the straightest. I must admit ever since I was a kid I’ve always sorta crushed on him.

Wow, I’m such a loser.

I’m not a perverted loser though (okay so maybe). But still, there’s no way I could sit in the dark and watch him strip down to the bear essentials. Not that I’d be complaining, but there’s way too much of a chance that I’m going to get caught.

I’ve decided that since the only two escape routes are the door and the window, both unavailable due to the door being locked and the warm body occupying the space in front of the window, I have to take drastic action. I need to come up behind him, blindfold him and escape to safety somehow. I creep towards his turned back and size him up. I can take him. He’s shorter than me (something surprising that I hadn’t noticed before because I always crushed on him from a distance) and he’s not all that muscular, whereas exercising is my life.

I get the same feeling that accompanies an intense game of hide and go seek, but ten times worse. My bladder is full, my nerves on fire. I keep thinking that Avery will be able to hear me and whirl around to catch me in the act. The act of what I don’t know, but I know it wouldn’t be good.

Crouching I silently slide off my shirt and twist it in order to make a blindfold. I stop right behind him. He tenses up and I slap my hand around his mouth being careful to hold his jaw closed so he can’t nip at my fingers. My other arm goes to containing his violently struggling body by wrapping around his waist.

He almost breaks loose and even though I hold on just like good ole Crusher, he throws my balance off so we land on the floor with an ‘oof’!

“Avery, are you okay up there?” Mr. Wilson’s concerned voice drifts through the door and I panic. I clamp my legs around him, pinning him facedown to the ground before releasing his mouth and blindly groping for my shirt to blindfold him. He gasps a little bit before regaining his voice.

“What the fuck,” he asks, but he’s calm now.

“I apologize but I seem to have fallen into your window and on top of you. Please, I’m not going to hurt you or anything, I just want to get out of here without causing too much trouble. Tell him you’ll be down in a few minutes or something. Anything,” I ramble in a whisper as his breathing returns to normal. I wind my shirt around his head effectively blocking his vision. I can only pray that my voice is as raspy as it sounds so he won’t be able to tell who I am. He nods to show he understands my directions.

“I’m just drying my hair out real quick! I’ll be down in five!” he yells through the door to placate his father then to me he breathlessly inquires, “Could you please get off of me now?”

I detect a smug lilt to his tone added in with the insufferable disdain. I chose to ignore it.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” I reply and it finally hits me full on (now that I’m somewhat safe), that I’m straddling him. My ‘little friend’ starts to stir impatiently at the ideas our position puts into my head but then I quell any further subordination with a thought fit for a cold shower: this is my best friend’s brother who never liked me to begin with. A brother who is also the owner of a nympho cat who has the hots for me. That does the trick.

Well… It works well enough to suit my current needs.

I swing my legs off of him but don’t give him time to get up on his own. I wouldn’t trust Avery with my collection of pennies (numbering 37 cents I’ll have you know), let alone trust him to refrain from trying any funny business. So I wrap my arms around him from behind and lift him up. I can only pray he doesn’t feel my suspiciously hardened nipples as his back is pushed against my chest.

“Sorry about all of this,” I breathe into his wet hair that smells slightly of pomegranate just like Elaine’s. Coming from his dark mane makes the scent fantastically erotic. He shivers and I realize that I’m breathing into his ear. I like the way he feels against me and going by all the signs, my lower anatomy likes it too.

I have a half-naked guy in my half-naked arms. And he’s not struggling half as much as I would expect him to.

“What are you waiting for? Aren’t you going to jump out the window?” he asks cooly. “I could scream right now and you’d be screwed. My dad would make sure of it.”

“I know,” I reply but I’m reluctant to leave. I’m really not gung-ho for leaving through the window because that means I have to jump and that means broken bones, or worse… Mr. Will’s attempts at kitty cuddling and bestiality. That and the electricity of Avery’s chest, rising and falling, and his skin against mine is paralyzing me.

“Yeah, Dad never liked you Ray. Then again, neither did I,” he responds. I frown as I twirl him around forcefully in order to search his blindfolded face.

“What! How’d you know it was me!” I exclaim and he blindly fumbles with the towel that is slipping around his waist with his now free hands.

“I’d know your voice anywhere. I have to listen to you and Elaine’s stupid chatter as I’m trying to sleep when you come over, y’know. That and you always smell like the same kind of soap,” his uppity attitude overlays his initial calm.

“Well excuse me for being clean and not being a tight ass,” I growl and realize that now that he knows it’s me there’s no reason why I can’t leave this room, grab Elaine, and make a run for it. In fact I take a step towards the door in order to possibly cut short the argument that will surely ensue if I’m left with the overbearing Avery.

“You’re not going anywhere. I’ll yell to Dad,” Avery smiles smugly and easily unties my shirt from around his head.

“You… you,” I struggle for words as anger seethes through my veins, “You pompous jerk! I don’t get why the hell you don’t like me! What did I ever do to you?”

At this point, if I can get an answer, the hell I’m going to get from Mr. Wilson and my parents will be worth it if only to know why he hates me so much for no freakin’ reason.

Avery’s eyes narrow in the soft blue light of the lava lamp that slowly morphs in never ending dynamics. He doesn’t seem to have an answer for me though so I shake my head to show him it’s not even worth hearing anymore. I turn my back to walk out the door in order to slip into Elaine’s room. Her room is, sure as hell, less creepy than this one. Shit, he’s still holding my shirt.

I tense up suddenly as my hand reaches the knob and have a premonition of what’s about to happen.

“Daaa—” I hear the yell begin to belt out of Avery’s mouth and in a moment I have him pushed up against the wall next to his window, effectively knocking the breath out of him. His eyelids flutter and his lips are parted. Water drips from the ends of his messy black hair and makes trails from his collar bone to the hollow of his neck. My shirt drops to the floor without a noise.

I can’t take it.

So I continue to deprive him of air by planting my lips firmly on his.

My heart is in my throat as I refuse to be tentative and I do what I’ve wanted to do since I hit puberty. I gently cradle one side of his face with my hand and softly kiss him.

He is unresponsive and quickly I lose confidence. I slowly pull back feeling dejected and denied for the hundredth time in my life.

Much to my surprise he doesn’t let me pull back all the way. He wraps his arms around my neck and I take this as an opportunity to deepen our kiss into something moist and searching. One hand finds the smooth skin of his back and the other rests over his slightly damp towel, pressing his hips gently into mine. I pull him as close as I can before he pushes me away gasping for air.

“Sorry,” I blink breathlessly and his half-lidded eyes seem to be searching mine. They’re looking for something and suddenly, for no reason, I want to hide.

What did I just do?

My arms are cold as a breeze slides in through the window and I want to be skin to skin again. I’m hungry for it now. Forget Elaine. Forget Mr. Wilson.

Forget everything but the burning gaze that’s got me cornered and self-conscious.

“You’re not sorry,” he concludes and I don’t know what to say so I shrug and bite my reddened lower lip that must mirror his. His are almost purple with the blue light of the lava lamp softly illuminating them. I resist the urge to swoop in and claim them as my own once more.

“Look at me,” he commands and I drag my eyes up from their appreciation of the soft lines of his mouth. I can’t make myself meet his gaze so I look past him out the window. I want to run away.

So that’s what I’m going to do.

“I’m sorry,” I choke out once more before launching myself out the window without a second thought. His hand reaches out to catch the seat of my pants, accidentally pulling everything down and my fall is slowed for a few moments before the ground rushes up to meet me.

Somehow, someway, I instinctively land on my feet and propel myself forward in a somersault. I straighten myself and immediately wish I hadn’t because of the nausea that threatens to ruin what little balance I have left.

For a moment I stand there, all wit scattered to the four winds as my body teeters dangerously. In a flash everything comes back to me and my brain registers that the cool night air shouldn’t be licking at my ass. And that it shouldn’t be shadowed by something that looks like a person from inside the window that ought to be an uninterrupted square of light instead.

Oh wondrous predicament. I would know that quivering mass of disapproving anger anywhere. I just mooned Mr. Wilson.

I frantically pull up my trousers and make myself somewhat decent, remembering that my shirt dropped to the floor in Avery’s room.

My eyes catch the horrible sight of Mr. Wilson’s reddening face and the pure terror that is written on his visage. His mouth works and I faintly hear a screech that resembles “Elaine!” Mr. Wilson disappears from the window momentarily and a light on the second story comes on next to the one emanating blue light.

That’s when Avery catches my eye. He’s a mass of black against blue and my jaw goes slack. My body protests from ill usage and bruised muscles so I refrain from running to catch him or something equally stupid.

I can’t help but wonder if he put pants on or if he’s going to risk his towel falling off when he jumps.

Because that’s what he’s doing. He’s teetering on the edge. He’s like a dark flash, at the window one moment, and next to me in the next. Maybe it’s just my mind skipping around from the jarring sensation of hitting the ground so hard but I don’t remember seeing him land.

My brain screams at me to run somewhere that I’m safe from his gaze but my body won’t move because he’s pulling at my heart like a loadstone pulls at iron filings.

I avert my gaze and open my mouth to warn Avery, catching sight of two dark figures looking out from Elaine’s room at us. Before anything can come out my breath is taken away and his mouth is sealed tight against mine.

I make a small sound of surprise in the back of my throat as his tongue tentatively swipes at my bottom lip. Surprised grunts turns to a series of moans as we explore each other’s mouths as quickly as we can before we have to break apart for air.

I rest my forehead against his, taking in the pajama bottoms he has on and our shirtless state.

“You know your Dad and Elaine are watching us,” I state and run my fingers up and down his arms. I’m delighted when my administrations are rewarded with a fine trail of goosebumps.

He shivers and resituates his head to the crook of my neck. His breath feathers lightly on my collarbone driving me to the edge of chaotic insanity and back.

“I know. They’re probably in Elaine’s room getting off on it. The sicko’s,” he adds with a smile that I can feel unfold as he presses it to my skin. The familiar brush of Mr. Will’s fur should startle me but all of my attention is focused on one thought.

“I’m still lost. If you’re okay with this, whatever this is,” I begin as I turn my eyes to the night sky above us, “why did you hate me so much before?”

My heart is pounding and he must know it. Must know that I’m afraid of what he’s going to say. Elaine makes some sort of catcall from the window and Mr. Wilson starts to spout off threats but it’s peripheral and I ignore it to hone in on the words my heart is racing for. The words I’m living for.

“I still kind of hate you,” Avery admits, his lips brushing against my shoulder and I force myself to wait for the rest of his sentence before I break apart. “It’s because you don’t do whatever my father tells you to. You don’t let him control you. I’ve never been able to do that,” his voice is soft.

He pulls back and my neck freezes over without his warmth. It’s his turn to avoid my gaze but I tilt his chin up gently and look him dead in the eye.

“I’ll show you how,” I promise and I don’t give it another thought. Right now I know that kissing him isn’t something logical. It’s not something to decide. It’s like getting mixed up in something troublesome or like jumping out a window; it just happens. And when it does…

It’s worth the risk of a crash landing.

---

1Mr. Wilikins is actually the name of my friend’s cat. I stole it for the purpose of having a nympho kitty ‘cause seriously. Who doesn’t love sex crazed kitties?

(Wrote this last night and edited it this morning as I was chowing down on some ice cream and fishsticks. Mwahaha… fishsticks.)