The Ruination of Dylan Forbes

By Chad Bordes

Dylan Forbes is a man caught somewhere between reality and illusion. He takes us on a crazy ride through his life and leaves a message along the way. It’s a story about not knowing where you truly are, how you fit in, how life puts you where you sometimes need to be, of growing up, growing old, and learning that moments are truly all we have in this life.

About the author:
Chad Bordes started writing at 14 years old. It is a passion inspired by his father who pushed him to take a creative writing class. He has maintained a blog for the better part of 20 years and likes to write about what he sees and feels around him. A true world explorer, he now lives in southern California.

• Language: English
• Publisher: DX Varos Publishing
• Release date: Apr 6, 2021
• ISBN: 9781941072936

Book preview

Chapter 1

"Education makes us what we are"

Helvetius

I guess the first time I realized I could never be content living in a small, rural town in Southern Mississippi was the night of my high school graduation. Sitting in the school basketball auditorium, with temperatures hovering close to one hundred degrees, I could not help but reflect on the last seven years of my life. Until this day, I had been exceptionally happy attending Pine Elementary and High School. Family life and education were the two things this rural community exerted little stress other than the normal peer pressure that most adolescents experience during their formidable teen years.

During high school, I followed Pine High Bulldogs championship basketball team, envying Bubba Hoda, the dashing and romantic captain who lead his players to victory week after week during the basketball season. Now that I think back, I never missed a home game with the exception of one. During my junior year, the third game of the season was cancelled when the entire team contacted poison ivy while swimming nude at willow pond. Apparently, the entire shoreline was covered with poison oak and ivy. The coach announced the game’s cancellation amid boos and cat howls from the entire student body. I fully realized that it would be impossible for our respected champions to play the game with swollen testicles and a constant desire to scratch the infected area.

This night was different and cheering was silent as the school’s band repeated the opening movement of Elgar’s Pomp and Circumstance overture for the ninth time. Mr. Livingston, the school principal, announce the graduating class’ valedictorian at the podium. Earl Ray Connolly stood upright with pride and dignity, as the class and attendees applauded loudly.

Hancock county and all in attendance here tonight are right proud of you Earl Ray, announced Livingston, and we’re anxious to hear your plans for the future.

Again, Applause.

Earl had a way with words and I eagerly awaited his wise and sagacious response.

After a great deal of soul searching and prayer, I have decided on sharecropping.

There was total silence in the gym, then the entire audience, students, teachers, and attendees rose to their feet and applauded loudly. Mississippi is proud of their many fine, religious, hard-working sharecroppers. In fact, the state would be in sad shape without them. Earl Ray was the hero of the night.

Prior to that evening’s commencement ceremony, I had every intention of continuing my education in Hattiesburg at one of the state’s fine universities. In fact, Earl Ray and I had discussed the possibilities of rooming together off campus. Earl Ray was keen on the idea of college but had expressed some concern regarding financing. His family was not what one would consider affluent in the area. His father was a damn good tractor mechanic but since a large majority of the farms used horse and plow, it minimized job opportunities on his behalf. He did however manage to find odd jobs repairing lawn mowers and dirt bikes.

Earlier in the school year, I had encouraged him to apply for financial aid. I understood it was turned down due the fact that the state had borrowed heavily from the moneys appropriated for education and financial aid. It appeared that the state of Mississippi desperately needed cash for the landfill development necessary to house a large chemical and dye factory in the lower part of the state. The governor had assured the legislation that approved the package that he was selling the state his land for next to nothing.

What’s more important, cried Senator Fartland, a strong supporter of the chemical plant, Jobs or education?

Since Mississippi lead the United States in the race for unemployment, the population wisely opted for the employment. It was at that moment that I decided to leave home, furthering my education through travel. The world would be my classroom, it’s inhabitants my instructors.

Chapter 2

"Youth’s the season made for joy"

John Gay

I informed my parents at the breakfast table the following morning of my decision to quit school and move out of the house. I expected a great deal of flak from both of them and was eloquently surprised by their silence on the issue. Upon finishing my meal, I excused myself and started up from the table. I was a fraction of a second late in noticing my father’s huge fist coming towards my mid-section. Mother screamed, plates and glasses fell to the floor, and the impact was painful.

You stupid little bastard, he yelled as his hand gripped my throat and lifted me from the kitchen floor.

Your mother and I have spent the last eighteen years of our life working our fingers to the bone so that you could have a proper education and this is how you repay us? my father screamed.

I tried to explain to him in twenty words or less that I appreciated all they had done for me, but for reasons unknown, the words would not come out. My father dropped me, turned, and walked out of the kitchen in disgust. My mother stood in front of the sink, weeping profusely.

I felt it best to vacate the room for the time being until the tension died down. I had made a list earlier that morning of all the necessary preparations for the move. This was as good a time as any to start packing. This would also be a good time to say necessary farewells to neighbors and friends. One of the last people I decided to call on was Gwen Turnbell. She and I had been on again, off again lovers since twelve. Gwen did not take my impending departure lightly. I asked her if she would go out with me this evening and she gladly accepted.

The balance of the day was spent cleaning out the closet and the clothes bureau. The one small overnight suitcase I owned would not hold everything, however, the problem was quickly solved when I found a large Sunnybrook egg crate on a shelf in the laundry room. Granted it wasn’t attractive, but it served a purpose. With nothing more to do around the house, I decided to bike over to Earl Ray’s place and inform him of my resolution to leave Mississippi.

Upon arriving to Earl Ray’s place, I found his mother in the backyard hanging out the wash. I’d always been fond of Earl Ray's mother. Mrs. Connally was a big woman with friendly eyes and the largest tits west of Mobile. Granted she was old, but she was still one of the best looking thirty-four-year-old woman I had ever laid eyes on.

Dylan, what a pleasant surprise, she said

Good day to you Mrs. Connally. Is Earl Ray Home? I asked.

She shook her head side to side before she spoke.

You just missed him. He drove over to Moss Point with his father to pick up some irrigation pipe for the backfield. He won’t be back until early evening I’m afraid, said Mrs. Connally

I’m leaving Pineville, I blurted

Oh, she said, Going on vacation with the folks? she remarked as she turned and proceeded to hang the wash.

No Ma’am. I am moving to New Orleans. Going to get a job and an apartment of my own. I said

She didn’t immediately respond. She could tell I was nervous and by the looks, I could tell she was distracted when finally she spoke.

Don’t tell Earl Ray you're leaving Dylan. He’s sick inside that we can’t afford to send him to college. Your leaving will really hurt the boy, she quipped.

Her voice began to quiver and I could not help but notice the small tears materialize in her eyes. We stood in silence for several minutes, neither of us having anything of great importance to say to one another. Finally, I turned and started to walk away.

Good luck Dylan, She said to me.

Thanks, I replied as I peddled away on my bike.

Racing toward downtown Pineville, I suddenly felt empty and alone. Was I doing the right thing? Deep down, I knew the importance of family, friends, and a strong community, but this new urge to break free and discover life was greater than anything I had ever known.

I knew I would miss Earl Ray. He and I had been friends since the first grade. We ran away together at eight, shared our first sexual experience together at eleven, and spent summers working his father's’ small farm. We had explored many dreams, hopes and visions, yet for some strange reason, the magic of age eighteen meant transition, a time for separation.

As I biked along highway 603, my thoughts reached back to my eleventh birthday. My parents presented me with a four by six pup tent, purchased from the downtown Sears Catalog store. When I informed Earl Ray of my new acquisition, he immediately began to plan our big weekend camping trip.

Earl Ray’s father was so excited, he allowed us to take Missy and Strawberry, his two mare workhorses, on our weekend outing. Earl Ray’s mother remarked that her two favorite young men were going off to explore nature. I didn’t realize at the time how precise she was. That weekend, I learned my first lesson pertaining to the birds and the bees.

Three hours after leaving home that Friday evening, we reached our camping spot. We unpacked, set up the tent and bedded down for the night. Earl Ray finally broke the silence. He reached into his knapsack and withdrew the latest issue of Detective Magazine. I recognized the cover format immediately, a mad murderer strangling a voluptuous blonde, whose gigantic breasts appeared to protrude from the magazine.

We perused each and every photo during the next thirty minutes, with very little said between the two of us. Finally Earl Ray laughed out-loud. I looked down from the pictorial and noticed that his cock stood erect beneath the magazine in his hand. I stared in utter amazement. Although I had matured rapidly in this area over the past year, I had no idea that my best friend had rushed nature to this extent. Earl Ray’s penis was at least nine inches long and swollen to the size of my fist.

You get hard looking at boobs? he asked

I certainly did, but not to his extent. I was ashamed to reveal myself. I watched closely as Earl Ray grasped the cock in his hands and began to move the skin slowly in an up and down motion.

Ya ever jack off? he asked.

I don’t think so, I replied.

Hell, I knew I hadn’t. I didn’t even know what the word meant.

Best free fun you can get, he replied.

No kidding? I said

You hard? he asked

Kind of, I said

With that said, Earl Ray pulled down the sheet cover from the lower half of my torso. My dick was standing erect.

Try it, he half demanded as he began to move his hand up and down on his massive organ.

Before long, yours truly was imitating his every movement when suddenly, I felt as if my asshole was being pushed through my groin. A warm and truly great sensation rushed from my toes, up my legs and released itself in the form of white, milky fluid through the tip of my penis.

As I looked towards Earl Ray, my face felt flushed and hot. With a glazed look upon his face, he concentrated every effort on whipping his massive organ to a climax. Finally, he moaned and fell back onto the floor of the tent with sperm spurting from the head of his penis. We seemed to lay there in silence for an eternity. The stillness was relaxing and fulfilling.

Great isn’t it? he says in a winded voice. I looked over and noticed him looking at me all the while, sporting a sheepish grin.

Where the hell did you learn that?, I asked him

I laugh now when I think of his response. He claimed he was at home, in his room reading a superman comic book, fully enjoying the caricature of Lois Lane, when he felt his penis begin to swell. He moved his penis between his thighs and continued to read but the heat of his body caused a full erection. This sensation was new to him and he began to rub the soft palm of his hand over the head of his cock. He felt instant relief and pleasure as a warm, milky substance erupted from his organ. He told me in complete confidence that he had continued the practice of doing this ten or more times daily.

I’m sure we broke his record during that night. The following morning, my penis was so sore. I had trouble walking. During the previous seven hours, Earl Ray and I had played every masturbation game ever invented including, who could shoot the farthest, who could come the fastest, and who could hold back the longest. If that wasn’t enough, the following day, we fucked his father’s mares. Although it was completely disgusting, it was rather exciting in a random sort of way.

As I look back now, I realize this innocent sex was dissimilar to the premeditated sexual experiences I would encounter in later life. At the age of 11, I owed my conscience nothing. Life’s music was sweet and gentle.

Chapter 3

"The more things a man is ashamed of,

the more respectable he is."

George Bernard Shaw

Downtown Pineville consisted of nothing more than one block of office buildings and shops. The largest being the Sears Catalog store. No new business had opened during the last eight years and none had closed down. Mr. Murphy, of Murphy’s Hardware and Plumbing Supplies, died two years earlier but his nephew, Clarence Murphy had quickly stepped in and taken over operations.

As in any small southern town, the buildings housing the bank and the mortuary were by far the most attractive in town: both well-kept and painted yearly. The rest of the town urgently needed a face-lift.

Bubba Hoda and several of the warthog basketball team were hanging out at Miss Molly’s diner. It was close to one o’clock in the afternoon and I felt famished. I ordered a grilled cheese, the cheapest item on the menu. Over casual conversation, I explained to Bubba and friends, of my intent to quit school and move to New Orleans.

You must be crazy, admonished Bubba, as he slammed his empty iced tea glass down on the counter. Leave Mississippi to live with a bunch of queers and niggers in that fucking city.

Had a cousin who lived in New Orleans, remarked Lester. Knifed to death while walking his poodle in the Quarter. Happened right on the main drag according to newspapers. Hell, Sheriff Necaise said his blood was splattered all over Pirate’s Alley.

God almighty, remarked Skinner.

Never liked the motherfucker, continued Lester, Queer as a three dollar bill, he was.

Must run in the family, laughed Bubba as he punched Lester firmly on the right shoulder.

Screw you! retorted Lester.

The conversation continued with more horrifying stories of life in Louisiana’s largest city. I ate in silence. When I started to leave Bubba spoke,

Want to egg some niggers tonight!

Can’t, I replied. Taking Gwen out this evening.

A little farewell pussy? laughed Skinner. I ignored the remark.

Tell me, asked Bubba, Is it as tight as I hear…do tell.

Tighter, I replied. I could hear their devious laughter as I pulled the coffee shop door closed behind me.

Few teens in Pineville had transportation in those days. I was no exception. Getting around was difficult. On weekends, if I played my cards right, Pop’s car was mine for the asking. Along with the keys came the usual lecture.

Don’t give a damn if you stay out all night, but I want that truck back in the driveway by midnight!

That evening, my father handed me the keys to his 1957 ford pickup. He always seemed reluctant in doing so, but when I assured him that Gwen and I were just going out to say our farewells, he relented. He liked Gwen and told me so on many occasions. In fact, he never failed to tell me that she was too good for my kind.

Don’t you go knocking that young lady up, he would say. You respect a woman till you marry her!

I always laughed at this last remark. Was there no respect after marriage?

Gwen looked wonderful that night, as if she dressed for her own farewell. I was certain she knew something.

Where are we going? she asked immediately upon getting in the truck

The evening is yours, I replied. Want to catch a flick?

Same movie as last Saturday, she replied. It was held over.

She was silent as I started the engine. I looked over at her and realized instantly that she knew I was leaving.

Let’s go up to Willow Pond, she said.

Don’t have any rubbers, I responded.

Not for that, she blurted out angrily. We got to talk.

There was complete silence during the twenty-minute drive to the lake. The area was deserted when we arrived. It was too early in the evening for most nighttime lovers. I pulled off the main road and cut the engine. The silence continued for another few minutes and then finally she spoke.

You’re leaving, aren’t you?

Sort of, I replied, surprised by her blunt approach.

What kind of answer is that? she said.

What I meant to say is that I am moving, but just to New Orleans, I replied defensively. But it isn’t as if I’m moving thousands of miles away. I can make it home for weekends.

Where does that leave us, as she started to cry.

Having to think fast and having a way with words, I was able to convince her I was not stepping out of her life forever. I was so nervous. I am pretty sure in all of the confusion that I told her that I loved her and would marry her…eventually.

On the word marriage, she had my fly down and my flaccid penis in her mouth. The entire process took less than thirty seconds. My male organ had come of age since my eleventh year. Large, and fully erect, it was as proud a possession as any man could desire. It excited me to watch her force the huge penis into her little mouth. Amid the soft noises associated with sex, I heard sounds approaching the truck.

Hold it a minute,’ I uttered softly. Instead of lifting her from my penis, I accidentally pushed her face firmly into my lap. She began to gag. For God’s sake, be quiet," I said.

She lifted her head, eyes smarting, and face red. I had no trouble locating the source of the noise. Out of the bushes strolled Bubba Hoda, Lester Ladner, and Skinny McCoy. Hoda was wearing tight cut offs and his stocky athletic frame filled my entire vision. Approaching the truck’s window, his eyes glanced down at my half naked torso, then to Gwen’s face. Her surprised look left nothing to his imagination.

Looks like we interrupted a little blowjob, boys, he said laughingly as he turned to his companions.

Or maybe we are just in time to get one, sneered skinner.

I tried to turn the key in the ignition but Bubba reached inside the cab and drew my hand away. He proceeded to withdraw the key and tossed it to Lester. Get out the truck! he ordered.

Gwen immediately opened the right passenger door and lowered her feet to the ground. I tried desperately to force my penis back in my jeans, a very difficult maneuver when in the seated position. Zipping my fly, I climbed out of the vehicle.

The details that follow are somewhat sordid. I remember Bubba Hoda removing his short, fat penis from his pants; a cock resembling his thick, stubby neck. Before I knew what was happening, the three of them had Gwen on the ground and Bubba commenced to fucking her ruthlessly. I tried to intervene but was laid into by Lester who hit me with a right hook and knocked me to the ground. I could hear the noises and must have passed out. I came too briefly to see Skinner, who was as excited as a kid drinking RC Cola all day, pull out his pencil-thin penis, drop to his knees and try to force his miniscule erection up Hoda’s asshole. Bubba quickly put a stop to it, but not before yelling out in excruciating pain.

I watched the entire ordeal disoriented and dazed, unable to go to the aid of the girl. When Lester Ladner took his turn, I swear that I noticed Gwen reach out with both hands grasping his buttocks and forcing him deep within her. I could hear Bubba say, Just like you said Dylan, tight as a vice, as they strolled away from the clearing. A tight little snatch for sure! It was at that moment I lost consciousness.

I must have been out for twenty or thirty minutes. I could hear Gwen calling my name and then I felt the cold water on my face. Seems that Gwen gathered some water from the pond and poured it on me. I was completely disoriented and helped Gwen into the truck. Neither of us spoke on the drive home. In fact, she never once looked in my direction. When I pulled into the driveway, she jumped from the truck and started for the house. Before reaching the door, she turned and screamed out, I hate you Dylan Forbes, and I never want to see you again. You are a spineless, weak, piece of shit!

Never wants to see me again, was the thought that floated in my head as I drove off. Could it be that Bubba and the boys were sexually better than the stud? I doubted it seriously. It bothered me that I felt no compassion or sympathy for Gwen. I rationalized by telling myself that she somehow brought the incident upon herself. I switched on the radio and caught the end of Elvis wailing, That’s Alright Momma, Elvis seemed to have an understanding of life and what it was all about.

Chapter 4

"This is the morning to take the air."

John Gay.

My folks offered to drive me to New Orleans on Sunday after attending church. As much as I wanted to save the $4.00 bus fare, I decided it best that I remember them in the environment of Pineville. The drive from our home to the bus station was uneventful, everyone in the car looking at me as if I were a convicted felon heading for death row. When we arrived at the bus terminal, I suggested they drop me off, but mother wouldn’t consider it. She had my father park the car and the entire family followed me into the station. I found myself whispering to the cashier when I ordered the one way ticket; afraid their hearing the word one-way would send them into a cave of despair. To make matters worse, the station master informed me that the bus was running 25 minutes behind schedule.

I begged