DADS AND SONS - FATHERS' DAY FIGHT WAGER (Part 2 of 5)

DADS AND SONS – FATHERS’ DAY FIGHT WAGER
Part 2 of 5

At the now vacant poolside, BUCK JUNIOR had just emerged from the Men’s Changing Room. His too-small gold swimsuit barely covered his considerable manhood. BUCK JUNIOR at 19 years of age, stood 6’2” and weighed in at a very muscular 220 pounds. He had longish, very curly jet-black hair which waved loosely above his thick, jet-black eyebrows. His blue eyes were so dazzling they sparkled like sapphires. In short, he was the fuckin definition of PRETTY-BOY BEEFCAKE PERFECTION - and BOY, DID HE KNOW IT!

BUCK JUNIOR glanced over at the distant volleyball game which had just begun. He shrugged and strolled over to the diving board where he proceeded to perform one perfectly executed dive after another.

Just then, BUTCH JUNIOR arrived through the front entrance. He spotted the volleyball game now in progress, then turned to the (almost) vacant poolside area and his thoughts exploded, “OH, WHAT THE FUCK DO WE HAVE HERE! The NEW GUY in town about to take another spring off the diving board! So, THIS is the cocky dude who’s become my rival at school.”

Having looked forward to this confrontation, BUTCH JUNIOR calmly shed his shirt, doffed his jeans, revealing his own too-small swimsuit (in bright red) which also barely covered his considerable manhood, and proceeded to slow-walk the length of the pool until he stood directly opposite the diving board. BUCK JUNIOR, immediately recognizing his rival, interrupted his dive. He stood on the board, placed both hands on each hip and confidently matched BUTCH JUNIOR’s gaze. The two young men took their time sizing each other up.

BUTCH JUNIOR, also at 19 years of age, stood at 6’1” and weighed in at a very muscular 225 pounds. He had sandy-colored, very straight hair cut short and dark brown eyes which were universally considered “dreamy.”

BUCK JUNIOR had to grudgingly admit to himself that his rival was ALSO PRETTY-BOY BEEFCAKE PERFECTION. (“SHIT!”)

After several minutes, BUTCH JUNIOR invited a flex-off by spontaneously going into a series of smooth muscular poses. He started by popping first his left pec several times, then his right pec an equal number of times. He then flashed a double biceps pose then gracefully turned and displayed his broad muscular back.

In response to BUTCH JUNIOR’s body builder exhibition, BUCK JUNIOR climbed down off the diving board and strolled indifferently over to a lawn chair retrieving a towel and proceeded to dry himself off. He did so in a way that showed off his own perfect body from every angle. BUTCH JUNIOR watched, pretending as hard as he could NOT to be impressed.

It was hard to tell whose face was handsomer. BUCK JUNIOR’s nose had a thin bridge. BUTCH JUNIOR’s nose had a fairly wide bridge. Both had deep clefts in their chins, the difference being BUCK JUNIOR’s chin was round, BUTCH JUNIOR’s chin was square.

It was truly FUCKING ASTONISHING that both these serene young SONS - evenly tanned, smooth-skinned, hairless, tat-free, perfect-complexioned, ideal templates of male beauty - could possibly be related to their permanently pissed-off, hairy-ape, ugly-ass, cretin-like DADS.

Meanwhile, a mere two minutes into the volleyball game, BUTCH SENIOR spiked the ball with great force causing BUCK SENIOR to dive hard sidewise in an effort to punch it back over the net. Unfortunately, Sarah Bivens, 40 years old, 115 pounds, with zero athletic ability couldn’t get out of the way fast enough so she landed flat on the ground face up as BUCK SENIOR’s full weight landed directly on top of her. It was a miracle from heaven that she was raised from the ground with her body and face intact.

Families were aghast. Children cried, mothers were indignant while fathers looked around helplessly. Sarah Bivens was led bawling from the field. Mr. Franklin sputtered with rage, but his weak-ass admonitions aimed at the two colossal men were ignored as they strutted like roosters, swinging their arms around energetically while showboating their sweaty burly torsos at the cowed crowd.

Everyone dashed from the field to the pool in a panic gathering their belongings to leave. FATHERS DAY WAS OFFICIALLY A WASH-OUT.

BUCK SENIOR and BUTCH SENIOR ambled behind the crowd quite pleased at the debacle they had caused. Further proof of this could be noted by the prominent bulges swelling their shorts and by BUCK SENIOR’s ample, chewed-on nipples rising to their full height and length. Simultaneously, they caught sight of their SONS poolside still intently inspecting each other’s physiques.

As the two DADS and the two SONS assembled, oblivious to the masses filing hurriedly by them through the pool exit, it was obvious what the day’s agenda was. BUCK SENIOR broke the ice first directing his remarks to BUTCH SENIOR, “MY SON deserves to be TEAM CAPTAIN in whatever FUCKIN team sport he chooses, and just so you won’t try any BULLSHIT to keep YOUR SON in the top spot just cause you’re the GODDAMN FUCKIN COACH, I say we SETTLE ALL SHIT between us today.” BUTCH SENIOR smiled tauntingly back. “THAT’S WHY WE’RE HERE, SHITHEAD!”

BUCK SENOR pointed in BUTCH JUNIOR’s direction. “AS AGREED, bring YOUR SON back to my place. We got a big ol backyard. Let the two of em SETTLE IT.”

BUTCH SENIOR said, “FINE!! WINNER TAKES ALL! FUCKIN A!”

BUCK SENIOR said, “SHIT, YEAH - SON FIGHT - AND WINNER TAKES ALL!”

BUCK SENIOR glanced over at BUCK JUNIOR. “Whatta ya say, SON? YOU SET TA GO?” BUCK JUNIOR looked over at BUTCH JUNIOR. They both regarded one another silently, then simultaneously nodded their mutual assent. BUCK JUNIOR, still looking at BUTCH JUNIOR said, “Yeah, DAD, sure, WE’LL FIGHT.”

BUTCH SENIOR, clapping his hands together, instantly sprang into overdrive. “FUCKIN A!! BUTCH JUNIOR, grab your fuckin towel. We’re headed over to the ol Anderson place. RIGHT FUCKIN NOW! We’ll meet you GODDAMN MUTHA FUCKERS there.”

BUCK SENIOR was already grabbing his things and roared at BUCK JUNIOR. “HAUL ASS, SON! THIS SHIT IS ON!!”