Difference between Boys and Men Ch. 01

Back in 1969 Butch Oliver was a 52 year old ex-Marine who was a contradiction to the old saying, "you can't judge a book by its cover" because the grizzled trucker was usually every bit as cold and unforgiving as he looked. His former wife would have testified to that but not to his face, because while Butch wasn't violent he was a mean man who could wither most people, be they man or woman, with a caustic stare.

Mary Oliver had put up with it for almost 20 years before the very things that had attracted the once rebellious woman to Butch had made him impossible to live with. The long haul trucker was rarely home but when he was the former Marine was demanding in every possible way, from her housekeeping to her cooking and the TV shows she watched, but especially in the bedroom.

Before Mary fled to her sister's place out in Arizona, she had a final conversation with her friend Betty in which she detailed the reasons she was leaving, and while Betty was aware that her friend's husband was a bit of a brute, Mary had never spoke of the sexual side of their marriage until that parting chat.

"You have no idea what he's like," Mary had complained. "He's only home 2 or 3 days a week but it's practically non-stop with Butch. Sex is all he thinks about."

"Hey, you've been married for a long time. You should be happy he still wants you Mary," Betty related. "Hell, my Herb screws me once a month if I'm lucky and spends the rest of the time farting and drinking beer. Plus, forgive me for saying this but your man might not be the most handsome guy in town, but what a body! Especially for a man his age."

"It's what attracted me to him from the start, but I can't take his constant demands of me any more, and that's with him fucking every broad at truck stops or hitchhiking the rest of the time," Mary confessed. "A couple of months ago I thought I would do him a favor and clean the cab of this truck out for him, and there were empty condom packages all over the stinking place. Even some used rubbers!"

"What did he say when you asked him about it?

"Ask him? No way because he knows I know and doesn't care what I think. He'd just drag me into the bedroom and screw me," Mary replied. "He's so rough too, and what makes it even worse is that he has a gigantic penis too."

"You're leaving this guy?" Betty had said incredulously. "Girl, I know you've threatened to leave Butch before, but if you actually do this time, do you mind if I come by to see how he's doing after you're gone?"

"He's all yours Betty," Mary said before saying good bye to her friend forever. "You've got exactly what Butch insists on."

"I do?"

"Yep. He's always said that he doesn't care what they look like, so long as they have a pulse and a pussy."

Despite her friend's warning a couple of months after Mary bolted, Betty paid Butch Oliver a visit, armed with a plate of cookies and a shoulder for the trucker to cry on. Betty had no idea if the cookies were ever eaten and she knew her shoulder wasn't needed, but when Betty waddled out of the Oliver's house well after midnight she did so knowing that her friend wasn't lying about Butch.

"The sex was amazing," Betty related on the phone to her sister after she recovered. "At least for a while it was, but it got so that he was just tossing me around the bed like rag doll and having his way with me, over and over again. The skin on my knees and back is rubbed raw, and as for my you-know-what? Thankfully Herb rarely bothers me for it, and I don't think I would feel him if he did. Never again."

"Well, at least not for quite a while," Betty reasoned after thinking about it.

Betty had considered getting in touch with Mary Oliver but changed her mind, not wanting to admit what she had done or having to listen to her saying 'I told you so'.

In the meantime Butch Oliver had set his sights on other gals, but on a Saturday afternoon in late June an opportunity arose that the randy trucker could not resist, and it only happened because of a camera his nearly forgotten wife had left behind when she fled.

***

Butch Oliver had just gotten home after driving halfway across the country for seven days, and he had been hoping for a quiet day around the house before heading to the local gin mill to pick up one of the willing locals for a workout in a bed instead of the cab of his truck but he saw that it would probably be noisy around here because the people next door were having some sort of party.

A graduation party according to the balloons and banners, and as she watched the busty woman and her daughter set up the tables he struggled to remember the girl's name. All he could recall that it was kind of a snobby name. That would be something that his ex-wife would know, but Butch never paid attention to any of that, and as he watched the scrawny girl laying down tablecloths he realized how time had flown because it seemed like yesterday the girl was riding a tricycle.

Butch had always referred to the kid as sweetie or girly but he caught on that she didn't like it because instead of saying hello she would nod and go on her way, her nose in the air like her shit didn't stink. That was the way she walked to the bus stop wearing that stupid Catholic school uniform, her head held high like she was the queen and her books clutched to her chest.

"Stuck up little snot," Butch growled to no one as she checked out the rather homely girl with a big nose and no tits to speak of, and while Butch found the neighbor girl no great shakes to look at he admitted to the empty kitchen, "I'd still do you, whatever your frigging name is - knock that attitude out of you."

Butch kept his eye on the party as he went about his business, today concentrating on weeding though his ex's crap and pitching what he didn't want, when he came across a camera that she had wasted money on. One of those Polaroid cameras that printed out pictures right away, and Butch - not being one to normally take or look at photos - was about to toss it in the trash when he saw there was film in it.

For the hell of it Butch played around with the thing and after glancing at the instructions tried to figure out how it worked, and when he thought he had figured it out he took a picture. After waiting the prescribed time he looked at the finished product and laughed his ass off.

"Not bad. Something for the ladies," Butch guffawed when he looked at the picture he had taken of his cock laying on the kitchen table, and he wished he knew where Mary went so he could mail it to her to remind her of what she wasn't getting any more, although the crow would probably be more pissed at seeing his dick on the damn table instead.

About that time Butch Oliver happened to look out the window just in time to watch the neighbor girl sneaking back into the woods that were behind all the properties on the block, a state owned welcome buffer from possible development, and while he usually had no interest in what went on back there, the sight of the graduate weaseling back there with some hippie kid with a Prince Valiant haircut got his attention.

Armed with the camera Butch Oliver went out the back door and made his way through the patch of woods, trying to be quiet like he had in the jungles of Burma while looking for the young couple. There was a chance that they were just doing some bird watching like Butch's former wife had done, but since Butch had a mind that most had conceded was a tad perverted he was hoping for something else, and when he saw the two teens he wasn't disappointed.

"Oh you prissy little thing," Butch muttered as he watched the neighbor kneeling in front of this scrawny hippie who had his shorts and underwear down around his ankles while his erection pointed at the neighbor girl, and as she leaned forward and took the pale needle dick into her mouth he snapped a picture, and then another.

It didn't last long, and the last picture Butch Oliver took was that of the pious girl turning aside and spitting out the load that the hippie had deposited in her mouth. After that the former Sergeant Oliver used the same stealth-like movements to go back home so he could enjoy the photos.

"I ain't no Ansel Adams," Butch chortled to no one as he set the photos on the table, but the quality of the pictures did get better as he went along, although that may have the result of his moving close and closer to the action, something he didn't realize he had done until then.

Something else he had gotten from the little stroll was an erection, and he made quick work of that as he retreated to the bathroom where he promptly rubbed one out while staring at his favorite of the photos, with the neighbor girl's lips down in the boy's pubes while she looked up at him.

"That could be you," he told himself, and because he had always liked them as young as the law allowed he didn't feel guilt about what his active imagination was working on as he cleaned his mess. "It will be you."

***

"What's your name?" Butch Oliver sang off key as he stood in the garage and warbled the old Don and Juan song from the past as he watched the neighbor girl the next morning cleaning the mess in their backyard.

The girl's Prince Valiant was nowhere to be found for the dirty work, so as the young lady picked up the cups and plates Butch appraised the form of his neighbor. Clearly she was no much like her Mom, who was a busty brunette with a cheerful disposition, a gal that Butch had considered making a move on more than once over the years. Her daughter was rather slender and boyish looking, her glasses and shoulder length hair giving her the look of a stern librarian, but the more Sgt. Oliver looked the more he wanted to get to know her before she headed off to college, if only he could remember her name.

"Mary?" Butch wondered allowed, but he knew that wasn't it because that was his ex-wife's name. It was something similar though, so his muttered the possibilities as he looked at her butt while she bent over in her shorts. "Mary Lou? Marianna?"

"Meredith!" Butch exclaimed when he finally remembered, shaking his head as he mumbled, "What kind of a girl's name is that?"

Regardless, he was emboldened by the knowledge that he would at least know her name as he approached the teen with the photos in his shorts pocket, and while he had contemplated getting a little dressed up for the occasion, his sweatshirt with the ripped off sleeves would give him a chance to show off his guns which were still impressive even at his age.

Meredith didn't see her neighbor approach so was startled when the ex-Marine cleared his throat, but she recovered quickly and even managed to offer a grim smile as he drew close.

"Mr. Oliver..."

"Good morning Meredith," the gravelly voiced man interrupted as he waved around the yard. "And I guess congratulations are in order."

"Oh. Thank you sir," Meredith replied before nervously babbling. "Mother - she was going to invite you but I guess you were away last week. "I'm sorry if we were loud or anything."

"Not at all. Looks like you had a good time," Butch responded, and judging by the way the nervous girl crossed her arms over her chest, his attempt to not stare at her titties was not successful.

"Mother, if you needed to speak with her she's sleeping in," Meredith offered as Butch tried to figure out what the crest on her sleeveless blue top meant, but he shook his head and reached into his pocket.

"No Meredith, it was you I wanted to speak with," Butch explained.

"Me sir?"

"Yes. Why don't we step over here?" he suggested in as pleasant a voice as he could muster while he nodded over to the side of the yard where there were no windows for her mother to look out, and while Meredith looked scared she walked over with him.

"I know that land behind our houses gets used by a lot of kids for drinking and stuff..."

"I never drink back there. That's the boys down in the new development," Meredith insisted but added, "I was under the impression it was state land."

"That it is, but I did see you wandering back there yesterday with that kid with the Prince Valiant haircut."

"Woody."

"Woody?"

"It's short for Woodrow," Meredith explained and then noted proudly, "He's going to be a sophomore at Dartmouth this fall."

"Boyfriend?"

"I wish. We're just friends I guess," Meredith answered nervously. "We were sort of going together but I think we broke up last night."

"I see," Butch grinned as he looked at the photo in his hand. "Yesterday I wandered back there hoping I could get a look at this woodpecker that my wife used to try and get a picture of, and what do you think I saw? Here. Take a gander at this."

Butch Oliver handed her a photo which the teen took with a shaky hand, and when she looked at herself on her knees in front of Woody she dropped the picture, hurriedly bending down and picking it up to glance down at it again while her eyes welled up.

"Oh no," she murmured under her breath before looking up as bravely as she could and saying, "That wasn't very nice to take a picture of that. It was a private moment."

"A private moment on public land," Butch noted. "Your mother. You said she was home?"

"She's sleeping. Why? Are you going to show her this? That isn't fair. Besides, I could rip this filthy thing up."

"Go ahead. It's yours to keep as a memory of your party and the hippie kid."

"He's not a hippie. He's in a fraternity."

"Good for Woodrow. Anyway, go rip it up if you want," Butch responded, smiling when the girl began to tear it but instead slipped it in her pocket. "Besides, there's more where that came from."

"No..." the teen moaned when she saw the other photos in the man's rough hands. "What do you want Mr. Oliver?"

"What I would like is to meet you back in the woods so I could enjoy your - ahem - talents like Woodrow did."

"Or else you'll tell Mother? That's extortion!" she huffed.

"Who said anything about telling your mother about anything?" Butch snapped. "I just got the impression that you like sucking cock and seemed to be damn good at it. I'm a guy that likes to get head, especially from hippie girls."

"I'm not a hippie."

"But you are a cocksucker," Mr. Oliver snickered.

"You're an old man though. As old as my father."

"Not in bad shape though, am I?" Butch noted, flexing his arm as he spoke. "Something tells me you're curious."

"Curious? About what?"

"About what it would be like - curious about the difference between boys and men," Mr. Oliver suggested as Meredith scuffed the ground with the toe of her sneaker. "Hell, it's like the difference between girls and women. Don't you think I've noticed you growing up next door here? You're no kid anymore. You're a woman now and a pretty sexy one too."

Meredith said nothing and the older man noticed that his compliment did not go unnoticed and in fact seemed to surprise the girl. As for Butch Oliver, even though calling his neighbor sexy was a stretch to put it mildly, there was something about the girl that was starting to turn him on. Maybe it was the quivering upper lip that gave away the fact that even though she was acting brave she was nervous. Whatever it was she had, it was working.

"Well? You want to go back to your spot in the woods?"

"And you'll let me keep the picture?"

"Yeah," Butch answered, and was about to remind the girl that he already said that but then it hit him that although he had never really said anything about showing it to her mother, it seemed like Meredith was using it herself - like it was providing the excuse she needed to go back into the woods. "You know what would be good? If you put on that school uniform of yours."

"I can't do that. Mother would think I was insane. I have to finish cleaning the yard."

"Want me to help?"

"No. Mother would wonder what was up if she woke up and saw you out here. I'll finish and meet you back there."

"Okay," Butch answered and then added, "You know, if you aren't planning on meeting me just say so. I don't want to play the fool."

"I'll be there. About a half hour."

Mr. Oliver nodded and then turned to go back home while Meredith went back to cleaning her party mess.Butch was walking with a spring to his step, the idea of having that girl give him head certainly making what would otherwise be a boring day anything but that.

***

Butch Oliver stood by the tree and paced like a caged tiger, his skin crawling with an anticipation he wasn't used to having, all for a very ordinary looking girl. Maybe it was because her mother could catch them, although that was very unlikely. Imagine getting caught, Butch pondered as he peeled his sweatshirt off and did some isometric exercises against the tree to get himself pumped up a little, the faint glaze of sweat on his tanned, leathery skin making him shine a bit.

Butch flexed his pectorals, making his still solid man boobs dance as he looked through the woods. It wasn't that warm a day but it was steamy back there, like the jungles had been back in the war, only it was a lot more fun waiting for a teenager tart than the enemy. Just when the older man was starting to wonder if he was being stood up, Meredith came into view, weaving through the brush.

"Here I am," the girl said with a solemn face, and Butch was pleased when he saw the girl sneaking looks at his upper torso in between looking at the sod at her feet.

"Glad to see you," Mr. Oliver replied as he took the girl's face in his rough hands, and up close she wasn't the snobby princess walking around with her nose in the air but a nervous young lady with faint acne scars on her cheeks and bushy eyebrows that her eyeglasses normally hid.

Leaning forward, he pressed his lips against the teen's, and while she didn't return the affection at first, by the time Butch leaned back their tongues had already done a little dance and Meredith seemed to be hyperventilating as she looked at the gruff looking man with the graying brush cut and leathery complexion.

"I'm glad you came back to meet me," he growled softly, and when he saw the girl running her hands up and down her forearms he asked, "It's like a sauna back here. You cold?"

"No."

"You're a furry one, aren't you?" Butch asked with a grin as he reached over and replaced her hands with his own and ran them over the fine down on her skinny limbs. "Feels soft. Here... let me..."

"Huh?" Meredith mumbled but before she could object Butch took the teen's wrist in hand and raised it up over head.

"Just checking," Butch explained as he ran the back of his index finger under the girl's arm, the light floral scent filling the air as he felt nothing but smooth and moist skin in her armpit. "I know you said you weren't a hippie but... did you shave for me?"

"No. Mother insists I shave daily," Meredith sniffed.

"She checks you?"

"No, but - she's strict about some things."

"Wouldn't bother me either way. I picked up this hippie chick hitchhiking up around Burlington, Vermont last month and she was as hairy as a guy," Butch said. "Relax. This is supposed to be fun. Let me see here. You sure didn't inherit these from your Mom."

"Hey!" Meredith gasped when the ex-Marine's hands went to her breasts, his paws cupping the girl's buds and kneading them roughly.

"Relax," Butch snorted as he fondled what seemed to be mostly bra and blouse. "I like little ones too. How about if we take your top and bra off?"

The teen shook her head violently no but although the girl's hands had grabbed his wrists she didn't fight the rough affection as she leaned her back against the tree, even letting her hand slide up the older man's arms up to his biceps. Butch smiled when he realized the girl had done that without realizing it, and after she squeezed his rock hard biceps for a minute he sighed.

"Like muscles?" Mr. Oliver asked before taking her right hand and bringing it down below his waist. "I've got another muscle you can squeeze if you want."