Jock Stud
by Lambert Wilhelm


FOREWORD 

It's been said that every person has some dark passion within his soul -- 
some hidden secret, desire, or whim that may never surface to be seen by the 
closest confidante, or even recognized by the person himself. Such a secret 
can be evil and sinister, or it may be trivial and trite. 

In America, such dark passions are easily submerged and hidden by the 
complexities of everyday living. Yet sometimes dark passions surface -- and 
another Richard Speck or Charles Manson emerges. Sometimes such passions are 
exposed -- and another Watergate or ITT affair hits the headlines. 

JOCK STUD is a dramatic representation of a wealthy man whose secret passion 
for young boys and his own teenage son torment him, and of a 
eighteen-year-old slum kid whose practical wisdom goes far beyond his years. 
When the two of them meet, desires are laid bare, passions nakedly exposed, 
until both are set free of their own unique fears. 

JOCK STUD -- the story of a man who finds that the truth does indeed make 
him free. A novel of fiction for entertainment. A page of our restless 
society as food for serious thought. 

The Publisher 


CHAPTER ONE 

"Pull your fuckin' pants down!" Greg ordered. 

Jamie obliged. He didn't remember when he'd ever seen his brother so angry. 
Maybe the time over on Lester Street. Greg had almost killed that punk from 
the Steel Chains. He'd done it with his fists, too. Pounded the poor 
sonofabitch into a bloody pulp so that the kid's own mother couldn't ever 
recognize him. But Greg wouldn't hurt Jamie like that. That's why he'd 
chosen this way. He was taking out his own frustrations by fucking Jamie. 
This was punishment only in Greg's mind, not in Jamie's. Jamie had leaned 
long ago to look with pleasure on the run of his brother's cock in and out 
of his asshole. Did Greg still think that the best way to punish was a fuck? 
What had supposed to be degrading had evolved from that into something else 
a long time ago. 

"Bend over the Goddamn bed," Greg said. He was undoing his belt, his fingers 
pausing to fondle the buckle. Slowly he pulled the leather strap free of the 
belt loops. He knew his brother wasn't expecting this. Jamie was bent over 
the bed, his firm young ass ready for Greg's cock, not for Greg's belt. Greg 
had never hit him. Oh, he'd threatened many times, but he'd never done it. 
Even the next time he'd gotten furious, over that petty theft at Johnson's 
Department Store, Greg had fucked because he wanted to give a punishment 
that would leave no scars. Jamie had such a boyishly perfect body. It would 
have been a shame to mar it. A butt-fuck would have been enough. "See, you 
ain't a man just 'cause you swiped a coupla bicycle chains, you little 
bastard," Greg had said that first time. "What kinda man'd let himself get 
fucked like a woman?" There'd been no beating that time. 

Greg hit the startlingly white ass, seeing the strip of blush form on the 
creamy flesh as quickly as the leather slipped away. 

"Jesus, Greg!" Jamie said, his voice choked on the shock of the unexpected 
pain. He started to push off the bed, but Greg was on him, sitting on the 
boy's ass, clamping him between thighs, riding his brother's lower back like 
a rider on an animal. Greg's left hand clamped hard into Jamie's neck, 
holding the boy's face back on the bed. 

"Didn't expect that, did you, you little cocksucker?" Greg asked roughly. 
"That you could go out an' pull this one, an' your old brother wouldn't find 
out. And if he did, well, shit, what the fuck? Big brother never did nothin' 
any more than hop on for a quick fuck, get so carried away with screwin' 
he'd forget about any real punishment. You think I don't know you been 
startin' to enjoy gettin' cornholed? Well, by God, this's gonna be one ride 
your brother's gonna give you that neither one of us is gonna enjoy." 

Jamie started to say something, but he groaned instead as Greg's right hand 
wielded the belt like a riding crop, down and back over the buns of his 
brother's ass. 

"Hurt does it, you little thief?" Greg asked. He was starting to sweat. He 
had to wipe the beads of perspiration off his forehead with the back of his 
right hand. "Well, it's gonna hurt a fuckin' lot more before I'm finished 
with you." 

Jamie could feel the resulting swells across his ass. There was a pulsing of 
his tender flesh, a throbbing warmth that was somehow beginning to give him 
a hard-on. His swelling cock was jabbing into the bedspread. 

Greg hit his brother again, his whole body shuddering with the resounding 
slap of the leather against the flesh beneath him. Greg was disturbed that 
the sounds of the whipping weren't quelling his desires. He thought a 
beating would substitute for his need for sex, for the growing need he had 
long ago admitted to himself that he had for his brother's young body. Where 
sex had ceased being a disciplinary action, the whipping would now have to 
suffice. Or would it? Another whack of the belt against Jamie's butt, 
another feel of the resulting trembling of Jamie's body against his thighs, 
and Greg knew he was only getting himself hotter. His cock was hard in his 
pants, was getting harder. Jesus, he was horny! He felt guiltier than hell 
that this had become so much of a turn-on. He should have known it would be 
this way. Since even before Jamie's sizable nuts had dropped, the boy's 
crotch sprouting its silver-blond hair, Greg had been excited by his 
brother. Greg wasn't the only one, but he'd made Jamie his own personal 
property. All those hot-ass blacks and Puerto Rican studs knew tat if they 
tried anything funny with Jamie Bravo, they were going to get repercussions 
from the kid's older brother. And no one in his right mind wanted to get on 
the wrong side of Jamie Bravo's brother. Greg had been Lord of the King 
Knights when he was younger. After the syndicate had begun taking an 
interest in the neighborhood, Greg had graduated to big time in comparison 
to what he'd been before. Greg was the syndicate's local representative, and 
nothing happened in his neighborhood without being cleared through him -- 
nothing! 

Greg knew. God, yes, he knew. You usually only thought of the weak ones 
getting raped in jail. Well, that was a crock of shit! Greg hadn't been a 
feminine little faggot even back in those days. He'd fought. Christ, yes, 
he'd fought. Even a young, butch stud could only fight so much against those 
odds. The memory had stuck in Greg's mind. He could imagine Jamie's tight 
young ass being used as Greg's had once been: those blond buns being put at 
the disposal of every greasy, cheese-smelling cock that wanted to fuck it. 
Jamie had come so close, so fucking close! 

"So close," Greg mumbled, as if Jamie had been somehow eavesdropping on the 
silent conversation Greg had been having with himself. The additional fury 
spawned by that particular erotic vision made him lower the belt even harder 
the next time. 

"Greg," Jamie mumbled. His mouth was drooling into the blanket. His body was 
alive with conflicting emotions. There was the pain resulting from his 
beating, the hot sunbursting that had grown now to encompass his whole ass. 
There was the hurt of Greg's claw like fingers still anchored into his neck. 
There was, however, the surprising presence of pleasure -- that pleasure 
having completely hardened Jamie's cock. His dick had leaked a mess of 
pre-seminal fluid that had soaked into the bedspread beneath the boy's 
belly. 

Greg hit Jamie again and then again, his cock swelling hugely in the folds 
of his pants. The cock was paining in its inability to complete its 
erection. Greg would have liked to adjust his rod, let it grow to its full 
stance, but he was afraid of the additional stimulation that would occur 
when his fingers moved his cock. 

Jamie was crying. His tears streaked his face, ran over his cheeks. He could 
taste them on his tongue. His whole body jerked with each ensuing blow Greg 
delivered. His butt hurt. This was a totally new experience. It was strange, 
in that his torment was continually equalized by the pleasure. 

Greg stopped suddenly, dropping the leather to the floor. The belt circled 
like a snake, the sound of its dropping loud against the hard floor. Sweat 
was rife on Greg's body. It had formed damp ring of darkness beneath his 
arms, a line down his back and down the front of his shirt. He felt the 
sting of the sweat in his eyes, the run of it along his neck and down his 
sides. 

He stood, stepped back, saw for the first time the welting his beating had 
left on the creamy white surface of Jamie's ass. Greg actually wanted to cry 
at the damage he had done. He didn't; Greg hadn't cried for as long as he 
could remember. 

Instead, he dropped to his knees, ran his hand gently over the ridges of 
discolored flesh. His fingertips detected the involuntary flinching of the 
skin beneath them. The skin was warm beneath his touch. He wondered if it 
would be equally warm against his mouth. He put his face to the ass, rubbing 
his cheeks gently against the blushed buns. 

They were warm, so very warm. 

Greg wanted suddenly to say he was sorry, but how could he? He'd never 
really hurt Jamie before, not even when he'd fucked him, but Jamie had to 
learn. He had to know that the consequences of what he'd done could have 
been far worse than they were. Jamie had probably seen it all as a fluke, a 
game to be played where he could pick up a few extra bucks in the bargain. 
They'd taken guns with them. God, what would have happened if they'd killed 
someone? There would have been no saving any of them. Not even Greg's 
connections could have hushed it up. There would have been prison. Christ, 
but these little bastards had no conception about what went on behind those 
closed and barred gates. And if they could at least begin to imagine, they 
could somehow manage to visualize themselves simultaneously sacrosanct -- 
untouchable by the law. How stupid. How very, very stupid. You either had to 
be very rich or very powerful to escape the law, and Greg and Jamie Bravo 
were neither. 

Greg turned his lips into Jamie's butt, kissing the swaths of swollen skin, 
pretending that maybe his kissing would make the pain go away. At least none 
of the blows had broken the skin. There would probably be no marks remaining 
in a few days, no scars. Yet, for the minute, the welts looked ugly on the 
creamy flesh, and Greg doubted that there would be any immediate cure for 
them. 

Greg put his hands to each bun, moving them apart and thrusting his face 
into the crease of his brother's ass. The slopes of the butt had become 
sweaty during the beating. Greg licked, tasting the saltiness. God, it was 
luscious having his face buried against this ass! The butt was so 
well-shaped, so firm, so young, so pale and crisscrossed with lines of 
redness. Greg tried to stop himself from going further, but he couldn't. 
He'd never been able to stop himself as far as Jamie's ass was concerned. 

Jamie, beautiful Jamie -- so blond, so hung, so good-looking. Almost before 
Greg had known what sex was about, he had had the hots for his brother. The 
very first girl he had screwed, he had imagined was Jamie, little Jamie who 
was then so far from even reaching puberty. Greg's imagining had made sex so 
much better, Jamie's ass seeming so much more exciting than that girl's wet 
hole. No matter who Greg had had sex with, after that fist time, it was 
always Jamie he was making love to in his mind. It was always Jamie's legs 
that were opened for him, Jamie's asshole that was taking his cock, Jamie's 
mouth that was crying out those grunts of passion. 

Greg's nose found the pucker of Jamie's bung within the valley of his 
buttcheeks. He sniffed, smelling the aromas. He loved them, was hungry for 
them, sometimes found himself dreaming of them. They were always the same, 
yet somehow different. Now they were stronger, mustier, smelling of sweat 
and young male ass. At other times, they smelled of pine-scented soap, 
especially after Jamie had showered. 

The smells had their accompanying tastes. The sweat was always salty on the 
tongue, combining with harsher, tanniclike flavors as Greg probed the 
asshole itself. There were smells and tastes Greg couldn't define, couldn't 
put words to. They were indicative only of Jamie's ass, and Greg had never 
found anything to duplicate the effect they had upon him. 

The throbbing in Jamie's ass had not ceased with the ending of the whipping. 
Hot flashes warmed the beaten butt, washed over it, flared higher when 
Greg's hands, lips, or tongue touched pieces of the molested flesh. Still, 
Jamie had a hard-on. He had a stiff dick, and he was horny. He knew Greg was 
horny, too. He knew that Greg would now end up kicking him. The spanking 
with the belt had been no substitute for the fuck, even if it had been meant 
originally to supplant it. The beating had been merely a preliminary. And 
Jamie somehow found this new aspect sexually exciting. He could hardly wait 
for Greg's rolled tongue to jab up his butt, work there for a while and then 
be followed by the bigger bulk of Greg's cock. Even though the whipping had 
hurt, still hurt, would continue to hurt after the pleasure of the fucking 
was long gone, Jamie knew that it was responsible for the increased level of 
his excitement. 

Greg rolled his tongue, his hands pushing the butt crease wider as his 
tongue touched the pucker and pushed to penetrate it. His wet tongue drove 
inside the bung easily, tasting, savoring those tastes as it went. 

Greg's bout of punishing was over. He knew what he was moving on to now 
wouldn't be a form of chastisement. His fucks had begun as such years ago. 
Remembering how humiliated he'd been when he'd first had his ass fucked, 
Greg had naturally picked such a fuck for Jamie as the ultimate punishment 
he could think of for the boy -- in the beginning. However, it had 
gravitated into something more as time went on, something Greg found himself 
utilizing more and more -- not because it was a punishment any longer, but 
because he had come to enjoy it, and, what's more, he sensed correctly that 
Jamie enjoyed it, too. Greg still used punishment as an excuse for a 
screwing, but the seriousness of those crimes warranting a fuck had long 
become of less degree than had been the original that began it all. That was 
why there had to be something more than just the fuck this time. The fuck 
itself was no longer punishment, could have no way masqueraded as such. 
There had to be something more this time. This hadn't been petty theft of 
bicycle chains, but grand larceny. 

Greg continued to lick Jamie's ass, eating out the bung until all the 
flavors there were muted to a blandness on Greg's tongue. Greg was still 
angry, but most of his vehemence had been worked out of him by the whipping 
of Jamie's ass. 

Greg injected a mess of saliva through the roll formed by his tongue. He 
sopped the asshole, messing the brown pucker in preparation for the fuck to 
follow. Greg then reared back on his knees, quickly undoing the fly of his 
trousers. He fished inside, into the breach of his underwear, hooking the 
neck of his cock. It was hard. Jesus, was his prick hard. He pulled, and his 
cock was so stiff that it only reluctantly came free. When it did, it was a 
jutting of hard male meat that stabbed upward along the young man's shirt to 
a point that corresponded roughly to the position of the belly button hidden 
beneath it. Another reach into the fly brought out a pair of healthy balls. 
They dropped downward in the flaccid flesh of their sac. 

Greg had a more than respectable cock. It wasn't huge to the point of 
grotesqueness, but it was certainly a piece of meat any man would have been 
proud to have for his own. It was a good eight inches from its knotted root 
to its capping knob. It was circumcised, a band of scar tissue turtle 
necking the naked mushrooming of the rosy summit. The cum-slit was a deep 
one, pouting as it perfectly centered the pulpy knob. The cock wasn't 
perfectly cylindrical, but tended to be wider across its belly and back. It 
didn't erect in a perfectly straight line, either, but bowed outward at its 
middle, the cockhead arching backward into Greg's belly. Its root sat 
surrounded by a bushing of thick, dark crotch hair. 

Greg wrapped his hand around the neck of his cock, milking it for its 
juices, spreading the resulting ooze over the cockhead and shaft. 

Jamie waited, anticipating what was about to come. He wanted Greg's cock. If 
he'd wanted it in the beginning, he wanted it even more now that his ass was 
still tingling from its beating. Jamie's cock was hard, God awful hard. Did 
Greg know? Could Greg see how hard his prick was? 

Greg hadn't yet noticed. He probably couldn't have imagined his beating as 
having given Jamie anything but pain. How could Greg have begun to imagine 
that the clash of leather against flesh could have been just as much a 
stimulant for Jamie's pleasures as it had been for his own? 

Jamie kept his face buried in his arms. He didn't look back at Greg, didn't 
want to do anything that might make Greg suddenly stop. Had Greg stopped 
now, gone no further, left without fucking, that would have been a worse 
punishment for Jamie than the actual beating of his ass had been. Jamie was 
hot for his brother's fat cock. Without actually seeing Greg do it, Jamie 
could still picture how it was, how Greg's cock and balls were sticking free 
of the gap in the young man's fly. Jamie could remember how excited he'd 
been when he'd first seen that cock and those balls. 

Greg used his left hand to pry open the crack, locating Jamie's asshole once 
more, his right hand pulling his cock downward into position. He came 
forward, preparing to fuck his brother dog-style. It had always been 
dog-style. Initially it had been that way to add to the humiliation; now it 
had merely become a habit. It was a good way to fuck. Greg could imagine the 
agony of his brother's face that first time so long ago, when, even then, 
there had only been evidence of pleasure registered instead. There had also, 
originally, seemed something more degrading in fucking a man as if he were 
an animal. Greg had been fucked that way, held over the edge of a prison cot 
while his ass was filled with cock after cock after cock... 

Greg pushed for his entrance, actually trembling as the asshole opened to 
accept his rosy knob and a couple inches of cockshaft. He was always 
surprised by how tight the asshole was, how it hugged closely to his 
entering cock, the sphincter a vise tat threatened to gum his cockhead off 
its shaft. 

Jamie wiggled his butt. He couldn't help it, he just did. He wanted more of 
his brother's cock up his asshole. He wanted his butt to gobble up that fat 
cock to its balls. He was hornier than he'd ever been in his life. The 
beating of his ass had somehow made him that way. Not even Jamie realized 
how fucking turned-on he was until he felt the initial insertion of Greg's 
cock up his tight bung. Now, he really wanted it. He wanted it fast and 
furious. He wanted that prick bucking over his prostate, penetrating through 
his ass, through his belly, shoved in so deeply he could even feel it in the 
base of his throat. 

"Fuck me, bastard!" Jamie groaned as his own bouncing ass managed to slip 
itself another couple of inches over Greg's cock. His words surprised both 
him and Greg. It was the first time he'd said anything to indicate he was 
looking forward to a screw. It suddenly removed all pretense that this 
ritual was one of torture or punishment. Jamie wanted to get fucked; he 
wasn't being forced into it because of something he'd done. He wanted his 
butt plugged with cock. He wanted his ass stuffed with cock. He wanted his 
bowels overflowing with cock. He wanted it all. He wanted it now. 

Jamie's words excited Greg. He should have pulled out of his brother's ass 
right then. He should have yanked his cock free and stuffed it back into his 
pants and left the room now that the illusion was completely shattered. But 
hadn't it really been unofficially shattered long before Jamie had screamed 
for Greg to fuck him? Hadn't it actually been the fact that Greg knew the 
fuck was no longer a punishment that had forced him into the beating to 
begin with? And if he'd known that, had actually long known it, ten why had 
he continued to perform the ritual and cornhole his young brother? Why had 
he now, the whipping completed, moved on to the fuck? Why? Because his body 
called out for a fuck. The sound of leather against bare butt had been its 
own stimulant, its own aphrodisiac. Greg wanted to fuck Jamie for the same 
reasons that he had always wanted to fuck him -- for the gut-shattering 
ecstasy to be had from blasting his fat, stud prick up young, male ass. Only 
now they both admitted to each other that they knew what they were about. 
The masquerade had been completely ripped away. Oh, yes, they would fuck. 
They were too far into it for either of them to abort, but this time they 
would be fucking for no sham reasons. The punishment for the crime had 
already been administered. This, then, was something else entirely. 

Greg shoved again, his cock gliding in, his balls swinging to bang Jamie's 
ass, his belly against the buns. Greg leaned over Jamie's body, molding to 
him. His prick was in, in all the way. It was heaven. Jesus, it was heaven. 

"Oh, Christ, Jamie," Greg said, his voice coming low and muffled with his 
pleasure. How had the two managed to arrive at this moment? Why had it 
seemingly taken such a stupid move on Jamie's part to bring them to this 
point in their mutual realization? Greg loved his brother. Loved him more 
than fraternal love. Loved him as passionately as any man could love a 
woman. He'd known that when they'd told him of the robbery, of Jamie's 
involvement in it. Greg had tasted his fear then, the fear of losing his 
brother, the fear they would arrest him, put him in jail. Greg loved Jamie 
too much to see him go there. He'd acted. He'd had the robbery covered. He'd 
pulled strings. 

"I want you," Jamie said, his butt sore where Greg's pants were chafing 
against it. "God, I want you." 

Greg put his hands on the boy's shirt-covered chest. He could feel the buds 
of taut nipples even beneath the covering material. He tentatively dropped 
his hands lower, moving onto the boy's belly. He did so slowly, even 
nervously, because he was about to do something he hadn't done before during 
all of his previous fucks of Jamie. But, God, had he wanted to! He was going 
to take hold of Jamie's cock, service it with his hand even as his cock was 
servicing Jamie's ass. Before, Greg couldn't have touched it. Touching 
Jamie's dick wouldn't have been part of the act they were both playing. But 
they'd now discarded the acting, hadn't they, discarded it like a butterfly 
sheds its useless chrysalils. It was all out in the open this time, and 
there was nothing to hold Greg back. Greg wanted the feel of that cock 
against his fingers, and now it could and would be his. 

Greg found the cock, the feel of it velvety against his hand. The cock was 
hard. How many other times had Jamie's cock been hard while Greg fucked him, 
hard without Greg's having known about it? Jesus, they'd wasted so much time 
in coming to this point, so much fucking time. 

Jamie had felt Greg's hand moving down his chest, his belly, even farther. 
He couldn't hope, could he? He couldn't actually believe that Greg was going 
to grab his cock until his cock was grabbed, and then, Jamie felt the thrill 
rolling from one inch of his being to the next. How many nights had he 
dreamed it would be like this? How many times, when being fucked, had he 
actually shut his eyes and imagined his brother's hand where it was now? 
Many times. Jesus, God, it had been an uncountable amount of times. And now 
that it was happening, Jamie was afraid he was going to cream before any of 
it had time to go a second further. There was a sunburst of pleasure from 
his groin and into his belly. Jamie fought to calm it. 

Greg intuitively sensed what was happening and automatically withdrew his 
fingers -- not for long, but only until Jamie's trembling ceased beneath 
him. Then Greg quickly reclaimed the dick, stroking it, drawing its loose 
outer folds of velvety skin back and forth over the more solid inner core. 
It was almost as if he were jacking off his own dick, crouched as he was 
over Jamie's body, and, in a way, he was beating his own meat, wasn't he? 
They were brothers, weren't they? They were the same flesh, the same blood, 
from the same cum, manufactured in the same set of balls. So how had one 
popped out so dark-complectioned, the other so beautifully blond? 

Jamie's possible premature climax had faded quickly. When Greg's fingers had 
again clamped around the shaft of Jamie's prick, beginning to draw the skin 
of it back and forth, Jamie knew he would be able to go longer than a few 
seconds until his eruption. Jamie was happy. What a waste had he blasted his 
wad into Greg's hands without any further lead-in. 

Greg fucked -- fucked his cock up Jamie's ass, fucked his hand back and 
forth along the enormous girth of Jamie's cock. His fingers on the cock were 
making long, slow, easy slides -- the kind Greg liked when he had his own 
dick and balls propped up over the edge of the sink, his fist pumping his 
cock for a come. His gripping slid along the cock from its head to its root 
and then back again. There was a simultaneous plugging of Jamie's butt by 
Greg's dong, followed by a withdrawal of most of those cock-inches from the 
tight bung. 

Jamie revolved his ass, sensuously stirring the entering and exiting cock up 
his butt. He and his brother moved quickly to achieve an easy fucking 
rhythm. Greg's cock glided smoothly in and out, that mass riding along on a 
lining sopped with spit and leaked pre-cum. Within his fingers, Greg felt 
the warm stickiness of the natural lubricant being leaked copiously from the 
pouting cum-slit that cleaved Jamie's cockhead. 

Time passed, the fucking and the masturbating cadences increasing in their 
momentum. Greg's hips had a new force as they battered his lower belly 
violently into Jamie's welted ass. The cock was pushed and pulled up the 
asshole, Greg's nuts smashing with painful pleasure into Jamie's butt. The 
sphincter of Jamie's ass continued to gum, concaving as the cock slipped in, 
convexing as the cock slipped out. 

The walls of the boy's ass collapsed against the cock as it entered, 
collapsed into a further smallness into the void left by the exiting rod. 
The ride of flesh against flesh caused a building of heat. There was a fire 
up Jamie's ass. 

"Harder!" Jamie pleaded. "Fuck me harder!" 

Again Greg pushed to bury his cock balls deep up the contracting asshole. 
The head of his cock banged into Jamie's prostate, deflected, plowed deeper 
into the bowel. It was followed by inch after inch of cockshaft. There was a 
short pause while the cock came to a complete stop up the asshole; then, it 
was in motion again. This time it was the shaft of the cock which was 
followed by the knob as the big rod pulled out of the asshole. 

Greg, realizing his moment wasn't all that far off, began jacking off 
Jamie's cock with an even faster rhythm than he was fucking his butt. Greg 
wanted Jamie to come, wanted the feel of Jamie's young jizz webbing his 
hand. 

"Easy," Jamie whispered, speaking into his forearm which was sopped with 
spit. "I'm close, big brother. I'm fucking close." 

Which was fine with Greg. Greg confidentially couldn't imagine anyone being 
any closer to an orgasm than he was. Even before Jamie's plea had left the 
boy's mouth, it was Greg who felt the tremors beginning to herald the end. 
Greg's muscles began to go stiff, his chest began to heave with his panting, 
his hips began to go wild in their bucking. 

One last time, Greg's cock buried up Jamie's ass, staying there while the 
walls of Jamie's ass vibrated around it. 

"Oh... fuck!" Greg grunted between gritted teeth. And then his nuts let go. 

The load of wet sperm sprang free of the suffocated cock, basting Jamie's 
prostate with a deluge of scalding fuck cream. It was the trigger that sent 
Jamie off the deep end. The younger boy trembled, shook, squealed out his 
delight as Greg's pumping fingers smeared his cock with his own erupted cum. 

The two were consumed in the ecstasy of the moment, lost in a world that 
consisted only of their two interlocked bodies. Wad after wad of hot jizz 
blasted from each pouting meatus. The spunk up Jamie's butt flooded back 
over the plugging meat of Greg's cock and drooled from his asshole. 

When it was over, the two were exhausted. Never had their mating been such a 
mutual releasing of pent-up passions. They both breathed heavily, almost 
gasping as their lungs fought for air. 

Finally Greg pulled himself free. His exiting cock brought with it a mess of 
spent cum that trickled with other excess juices down the crease of Jamie's 
ass. Greg got to his feet, feeling his legs weak. He looked down at the body 
he'd just filled with his spunk. Jamie looked so helpless and vulnerable 
that Greg felt a tightening in his own throat. His hands moved automatically 
to stuff his cock back into his pants and to fasten up his fly to conceal 
it. He stepped back a couple of feet and dropped into a chair. 

With the passion of the sex over, the pain of the whipping was again evident 
within Jamie's body. As the boy tried to get up, his tortured ass was 
fiddled with the ache of bruised flesh. He got slowly to his feet, feeling 
the ooze of his brother's cum dribbling down the inside of his thighs. He 
reached down for his pants and pulled them upward over his leg and thighs. 
The material of his trousers was harsh against his butt as he slid it up 
around his buns. The bay grimaced with the renewed pain. He pushed his cock 
back behind his trouser fly and buttoned up his pants. His legs were stiff 
as he turned to face his brother. His ass felt as if it had been cooked 
slowly over a hot fire and was now beginning to crack in a releasing of 
liquid, fatty juices. 

"Why, Jamie -- why?" Greg asked, his head buried in his hands. 

"Why not?" Jamie asked, thinking his brother had been making reference to 
their sex. "I ain't gonna get pregnant." 

"Oh, Christ, not the fuck," Greg said, looking up at his brother, his face 
registering a genuine anguish and concern. "Why the robbery?" 

Jamie shrugged. "I was bored," he said. "I was fuckin' bored, and it sounded 
like something different to do. And it was." 

"You're too young to be runnin' around with tat group of bums," Greg said. 

"When you were my age, you were doin' the same thing." 

"Well, I don't want what I had for you," Greg said. "I damn well want it a 
little better for my brother." 

"There ain't no better things for us," Jamie said, far older than his actual 
eighteen years. "People like you 'n me are stuck in this fuckin' hole for 
the rest of our lives, and there ain't no way we're ever gonna get out." 

"You know Davis Carthy had a piece with him this afternoon when he went into 
that grocery store?" Greg asked. 

There was a short pause, and then Jamie decided upon telling the truth. Why 
not tell the truth? If there wasn't that much between him and his older 
brother, it would have made their sex somehow less meaningful than it really 
was. 

"Yeah, I knew," Jamie said. 

It was at that moment Greg knew he had to do something about his younger 
brother, and do it pretty damned fast. 

CHAPTER TWO 

"You told him, didn't you?" Jamie asked, stripping off the elastic cupping 
of the jockstrap which had been pressed tightly about his cock and balls. 

"Me?" Blane Tanners asked, his voice muffled within the T-shirt he was 
dragging over his head at the moment. "That what the rumor is out on the 
street?" 

"Hell, no, that ain't the rumor out on the street," Jamie said, adding his 
damp athletic supporter to the pile of gym clothes on the bench beside him. 
"There ain't no rumor out on the street, and that's damned funny." 

"Why blame it on me?" Blane asked, smiling. He was a handsomely attractive 
stud in his late twenties. He had black hair that was tousled and thick, 
black eyes set beneath thick lashes and brows, a nose which had been broken 
twice in street fights but didn't show it, a mouth that was pouty and 
sensuous, a square jaw and deeply clefted chin. "You never told me anything 
'bout a planned robbery." 

"I didn't hafta tell you," Jamie said, his hand gently shaking his cock and 
balls to evaporate the sweat that had made his snaking cock stick to his 
heavy scrotum. "You got enough contacts on the street without hearing 
nothin' from me." 

"Me? Have contacts?" Blane asked giving a little laugh and dropping his gym 
shorts and jockstrap down around his hips in one fluid movement. "I just run 
a recreation center for you poor slum kids." 

"Bullshit!" Jamie said, sitting stark naked on the bench, eyeing the equally 
naked man who stood before him. 

Blane bent down and picked up his shorts and jockstrap, adding both of them 
to his own pile of clothing. He leaned his ass back into the coolness of the 
nearest metal locker and folded muscular arms over his equally muscular and 
hairy chest. 

"Even if I wasn't the one, I'm fuckin' gad someone did it," Blane said. "You 
were all a bunch of Goddamned idiots. I wasn't gonna bring any of this up 
till you did, but you all deserved to get your butts spanked royal." 

Jamie couldn't help smiling at that. Not only were Blane and Greg very good 
friends, but their minds had a way of running along the same track. 

"Go ahead 'n smile," Blane said, misinterpreting Jamie's thoughts, "but if 
things had worked out different, you'd be smilin' out of the other side of 
your mouth now." 

"You sound like my brother," Jamie said. Blane even looked like Greg in many 
ways -- the same dark complexion, dark eyes, rugged good looks. They'd been 
inseparable in their younger days -- Blane and Greg. Together they had ruled 
the neighborhood turf. In a way, they were still both port of the ruling 
hierarchy. 

"You damn well oughta listen to one of us," Blane said. 

"You and my brother ever make it together?" Jamie asked suddenly, standing 
at the same time to head for the shower. "The rumor is, the two of you had a 
real hot affair goin' once." 

"What else the rumors say?" 

"My brother had a bad time in prison that time they pulled him in after 
those gang wars. They say you brought him outta it." 

"Greg never needed anybody's help," Blane said. "Not even mine. He could 
always take care of himself. That's a helluva lot more 'n I can say for his 
brother." 

"I can take care of myself," Jamie said, dragging a towel free of the opened 
locker door over which he'd previously draped it. 

Jamie entered the shower room and stepped beneath a nozzle that cut him off 
from Blane, who had remained temporarily in the other room. Jamie threw his 
towel over a pipe where it would be kept out of the line of spray. He turned 
on the water. The first rush of it was cold, hitting Jamie before the boy 
could successfully jump out of the way. Before Jamie had finished adjusting 
the water to his satisfaction, Blane had joined him in the shower room. 

Blane, a towel hung around his neck, assumed a pose similar to the one he'd 
had before Jamie had deserted him minutes before. He leaned into the cool 
tile, folding his arms and watching. 

Blane wanted a serious talk with this young boy of whom he thought so much. 
He wanted to really take hold of Jamie and shake the shit out of him and 
some sense into him. Instead, the only things he let touch the boy were his 
eyes. It was always a pleasure to look at the naked perfection of Jamie's 
body. 

Jamie stepped into the flush of water, letting it wet his platinum-blond 
hair. The thick hair turned slowly wet to frame the handsomely boyish face. 

Jamie was attractive. There would have been few people, even taking into 
account the various tastes of the whole, who would have contradicted the 
statement that Jamie was a good-looker. He had those all-American, 
boy-next-door looks that were epitomized by models in advertisements but 
which existed so seldom in reality. His hair was so blond it was almost 
white, and it would have looked right at home on an albino. Jamie, however, 
was not albino, his complexion being of the peaches-and-cream variety that 
still managed to tan naturally. The boy's skin had a bronzed tint, even 
though he spent all his time on city streets which seldom got a ray of sun 
that hadn't first been filtered through layer after layer of soot and smog. 
His eyes were green, his lashes and brows of a blond coloring that was at 
least two shades darker than the hair on his head, the effect being 
attractive in that it avoided the impression made by so many natural blonds 
that he had neither brows nor lashes. His left cheek was dimpled, his chin 
clefted, neither deeply. His mouth was fully-lipped and sensuous. The whole 
combination of facial features in no way relayed an impression of 
femininity. Jamie pretended to ignore Blane, although it was hard for him to 
do. Blane's adult body was a maze of muscle that domed his chest into two 
matched pectorals and scalloped his belly with taut ridges that wash boarded 
the abdominal surface. And below all that evidence of male animal was a 
wrist-thick drooping of cock that would have quickly told anyone that Blane 
was certainly a lot of man. 

Jamie reached for the bar of soap in the niche of the tile and began to soap 
down his body. The boy's physique certainly wasn't filled out with the more 
abundant adult muscles of Blane's body, but it was well-sculptured in its 
own way nevertheless. It was smooth and almost hairless all the way from 
face to toes, with the exception of the blond strands that clustered at his 
crotch and beneath the boy's arms. There was a muscular definition that 
managed to indicate where pectorals would one day develop into swollen 
mounds of muscle, but the chest was, beside that, boyishly undeveloped. 
Jamie's belly was flat and faintly concaved between his hipbones. His legs 
were long and well-formed. His arms were swimmer's arms -- not bulged with 
muscle any more than the rest of the body, but definitely not skinny. And if 
Jamie's total good looks weren't enough, he had the added advantage of 
having a decidedly male cock on his young man's body. The cock hadn't been 
any longer than other boys' in the beginning, but, with the advent of 
puberty, all of that had quickly changed. Balls had dropped, and his prick 
had virtually exploded. What had been normal for a prepubescent youth had 
become a giant cock for a youthful adolescent almost overnight. 

Jamie turned his back to the spray, taking hold of his cock with his 
soap-slicked fingers to wash it. 

"Next time it's not gonna be as easy to get you all outta a mess like this 
time," Blane said. One hand held to each side of the towel draped around his 
neck. "If it wasn't for a favor somebody owed your brother, nothing woulda 
saved any of you punks. Doesn't any of that sink in just a little?" 

"You know what sinks in?" Jamie asked, his hands sliding over the snake of 
his cock, over the bulbous bulk of his balls. "It sinks in that both you 'n 
my brother are fuckin' hypocrites, telling me to stay home 'n stick my 
thumbs up my ass for fun while you two was out at my age muggin' old 
ladies." 

"I never mugged an old lady," Blane said in all seriousness. 

"Shit, you know what I mean." 

Jamie turned his front into the water, letting the run of the liquid wash 
away the soap. He then began to lather up again. 

"I know what it was like when Greg and I were kids," Blane said. "But things 
should change for the better, shouldn't they? I mean, it shouldn't just 
hafta be a repeat of the same old things over and over and over, year after 
year after year, should it?" 

"That why you came back here?" Jamie asked. "I mean, after you got that 
college scholarship 'n got all educated, we thought you'd split for good." 

"I like kids," Blane said. 

"Yeah, I know," Jamie said, a leer in his voice. He cupped his right hand 
beneath his cock and his balls, thrusting his genitals forward. He gave 
Blane a wink. 

"Can't you ever be serious?" Blane asked. 

"I'm tired of everyone bein' serious," Jamie said. "You're serious, my 
brother's serious, my mother was serious, my father was serious. Shit, can't 
there ever be a little fun outta life?" 

"You call fun bein' put in jail so a bunch of bad-assed blacks and Puerto 
Rican studs can rape your young ass?" 

"I'm tired of hearin' all those horror stories, too. Least that'd be 
somethin' different." 

"You damn well won't think so if it ever happens to you," Blane promised. 
"Sometimes, once they get started, those guts don't stop. Once you've gotten 
through the line, the first guys're all hot an' horny to start again. You 
know how long a good-looking kid like you'd last in the slammer? You could 
count the minutes on the finger of one hand." 

"I can take care of myself," Jamie said. "You don't grow up in a shithole 
neighborhood like this without knowin' how to handle yourself." 

"You'd have been raped here long ago if it wasn't for your big brother," 
Blane said. "Take it from me, baby." 

"Who'd wanta rape me!" Jamie said, giving a nervous little laugh. "All they 
gotta do is ask for my butt, an' it's theirs. You didn't havta fight me to 
the floor for that first fuck -- remember?" 

"I'd like to think I was a little bit different from the typical queer on 
the streets," Blane said. 

"Oh, Christ!" Jamie said, turning his back to begin soaping more of his 
chest, his belly, his cock and thighs. Blane was special. Blane was special, 
and Greg was special. And Jamie knew they had both been concerned about him 
and what he'd done. He pretended to be smug only because he was ashamed that 
he'd been involved, that those other kids had sucked him into their little 
games. He was embarrassed that his big brother had been forced to come to 
his rescue again. Jamie knew what happened to young kids who got taken away 
to jail even overnight, and he could feel the gut-twisting nearness of its 
having happened to him. Kids less attractive than Jamie had come back hardly 
able to walk, making vows they would die first before they spent another 
night in those sexual hell-holes. There'd been a kid over on Lester Street. 
Jamie had seen him a few times. He'd got picked up for shooting horse. He'd 
gone to jail and died there. The police had said he'd O.D.'d, but rumor had 
gotten out that he'd refused to be fucked and had gotten beaten to death. He 
shouldn't have bothered fighting. He only ended up dead, and he got fucked 
in the end midway. 

"Listen, Jamie," Blane said. He'd left the wall and had walked over to the 
boy in the shower. He put his hand on Jamie's shoulders but didn't try to 
turn the bay to him. "Some people do get out of here. You can be one of 
them. Maybe that swimin' scholarship we talked about. Maybe it'll be 
something else, but Greg and I'll make sure you get out. Just don't screw it 
up before we can find the strings to pull to do it." 

"You're gonna get me out like you got out?" Jamie asked facetiously. "What 
good did that fancy college education do you? You ain't nowhere except right 
back where you started. Here you are, runnin' a run-down recreation center 
for juvies who could give a shit. You call that out?" 

"This is what I do best," Blane said. "Or it's what I like to think I do 
best. Once you get out, you won't have to come back like I did." 

"Sometimes I don't think there's a way outta here," Jamie said, "an' that 
scares me, you know? 'Cause, it's all so fuckin' dirty here -- it ain't just 
the streets or the buildings that look like shit, but the people. They're 
dirty on the outside, an' they're dirty on the inside." 

"You'll get out, I promise you," Blane said. 

Jamie turned to face Blane, the boy's blond body glossed from the water. 

"Why'd you come back here?" Jamie asked. 

"People were here that I cared for," Blane answered. "What's life, even life 
out there, without the ones you really care about?" 

"You still love him, don't you?" Jamie asked, knowing now what he had always 
known. 

"Who can say?" Blane shrugged. "Love is so many things to so many different 
people." 

"An' you knew he'd never leave, an' so you gave up all that to come back to 
this shithole." 

"Your brother and I shared some good and some bad times together," Blane 
said. "Bonds are sometimes made from less. Who can say it's love or 
somethin' even more than that?" 

"Greg'll never get outta here," Jamie said. "The syndicate owns his ass, but 
good." 

"Without those syndicate connections, you'd be in jail now," Blane reminded. 

"I remind you of Greg?" Jamie asked finally. On the surface, it would have 
seemed a ridiculous question: Greg was dark, Jamie was blond; Greg was all 
adult muscle, Jamie was all boyish litheness. But there was more to a 
similarity than just physical characteristics. Jamie's mother had more than 
once told Jamie he was beginning to act more and more like his older 
brother. 

"You asking if I have sex with you because you recall childhood memories?" 
Blane asked, because the answer to that was probably a yes, even though, 
Blane would have probably never admitted it to anyone, including himself. 
"If you are, the answer's no. I have sex with you because you're Jamie 
Bravo, not just your brother's duplicate. You're a young, good-looking stud 
that can get me hotter than hell any day of the week by just standing in 
front of me. Take a look down there between our bellies and tell me what you 
see sprouting to life. It's not Greg Bravo's brother that's doing that to 
me. It's a young, blond stud who has got more going for him than he could 
ever imagine." 

"You gotta help me get out, Blane," Jamie said, some of the actual fears 
finally beginning to show trough in his voice. "I get dreams I'll end up 
here forever." 

"I will," Blane said. "I will, stud. I will." 

Blane took Jamie in his arms, and the boy came more than willingly, meshing 
his body with Blane's as the water washed over them. Against his own 
comparatively hairless body, Jamie could feel the curling ham that matted 
Blane's chest, belly, and legs. Jamie pressed his cheeks into Blane's chest, 
raised his face as Blane bent to take Jamie's lips against his own. Their 
spit was warm, mingling with the water that cascaded over them. 

"There's a better way to prove you're a man than robbing grocery stores," 
Blane said when the kiss we broken, his belly feeling the hardness of 
Jamie's cock jabbed against it. "You want to feel like a stud, you come to 
me." 

"I wanta fuck you," Jamie said, his cock thumping a tattoo against the 
hardness of Blane's belly. 

"Do you now?" Blane asked, his hands running the length of Jamie's spine, 
cupping the boy's buns in the squeeze of his large fingers. "Does a punk 
your age know anything at all about fuckin' a man?" 

"Try me." 

"On for size?" Blane asked, one of his hands passing around Jamie's hip and 
grabbing the boy's cock. "You think something this big's gonna fit up my 
tight little asshole?" 

"It won't be a trip it ain't made before -- right, man?" 

"No, I guess not," Blane ginned, giving Jamie's cock a few playful strokes. 

Blane turned in Jamie's arms and stepped out of the spray so that the soap 
soon to be slicked into the crease of his ass wouldn't be quickly washed 
away. He bent from the waist, his hands on his thighs, offering up his ass 
to Jamie's will. 

Where one would have expected patches of hair on Blane's back -- after 
seeing the hirsute conditions on the front of his body -- Blane's back and 
shoulders were completely hairless. The ripple of muscles was evident 
beneath naked skin. The spine made a trailing indent that was muted as it 
reached the lower back and the swellin of the man's ass. Hair began again on 
Blane's butt, silky strands of it that traveled along the inside of the buns 
and ran along the crease to blossom over the back of the man's muscular 
thighs. 

Jamie knew what to do, and it wasn't just because he'd followed his 
brother's movements as Greg had prepared to fuck him. Jamie's initiation 
into male-male sex had not come from his brother. Jamie had fucked and been 
fucked shortly after his balls had dropped. He'd known the score long before 
Greg had decided to use a butt-fuck as some kind of punishment form. For 
someone who had always enjoyed the feel of a man's cock up his asshole -- 
having never endured the humiliation of a gang rape -- Jamie had thought 
Greg's choice of chastisement a little strange, but he wouldn't have let on 
for the world. If Greg had early lusted after his brother's body, the 
feeling had early been mutually reciprocal. 

Jamie's body might have been off limits because of Greg's ultimatums on the 
street, but when Jamie took the initiative, there had been few men who could 
resist the opportunity for sex with him. At eighteen, Jamie was not as 
ignorant about sex as Greg might have believed. You didn't live on the 
streets as Jamie had done and maintain your innocence for long. 

Jamie liked the feel of Blane's ass beneath his fingers as he soaped the 
cleavage formed by the twin buns. Blane had the feel of a man about him. 
Blane was a man and not a boy. So much of Jamie's male-male sex had been 
with kids as ignorant as he was. Blane, however, hadn't been ignorant. He'd 
come into Jamie's body with a world of sexual experiences behind him. 

If Blane had been originally attracted to Jamie because he saw in the boy 
just a passing glimpse of Greg's personality, then Jamie had been attracted 
originally to Blane because the boy suspected Blane and Greg had once fucked 
up a storm together. Jamie had early determined to find out what was so 
special about the man who had managed to have sex with Greg even after Greg 
had supposedly undergone the traumas of rape in a jail cell. It must have 
taken quite a man to get Greg over enough of his hang-ups so that he could 
actually go to bed with another man and enjoy the sex he found there. And, 
as Jamie had found out, Blane was quite a man. 

Jamie's fingers lovingly worked the crack between the swells of the 
buttcheeks, his soapy fuck-finger locating the pucker and playfully prodding 
the bung. The boy's cock was hard and ready, made more ready when, satisfied 
with the lubricant on Blane's butt, Jamie returned his attention to 
lubricating his own cock. 

"About ready, stud?" Blane asked, turning his head to look behind him and 
getting a quick glimpse of the lathered cock Jamie had ready for him. 

"Shit, yes," Jamie said, stepping forward and using his left hand to part 
the asscheeks as his right hand guided his swollen cock to Blane's puckered 
bung. 

Jamie pushed, and, for a quick instant, Blane thought someone was trying to 
fist-fuck him without first going through the finger-by-finger preparation. 
His brownie concaved with the exerted pressure, yawned finally wide enough 
to accept the bulbous knob. The fisted mass pushed inside, the mouth of the 
asshole slipping to tightly gum the shaft of the dick. What had seemed like 
a clenched fist even before entry, now seemed even more like one lodged as 
it was up Blane's butt. 

"Anyone ever tell you it's damned obscene for a eighteen-year-old-punk to 
have an elephant's cock?" Blane asked, his voice a bit breathless. 

"You for one," Jamie answered, shoving to slid his cockhead deeper and plow 
in a couple of healthy cock-inches behind it. 

"Jeeeesssusss," Blane hissed. "Careful you don't split my ass at my age." 

"Don't worry," Jamie said, driving more of his cock home. "You could prob'ly 
take an elephant cock easy." 

After the initial shock of his hung accepting the cockhead, Blane's ass 
muscles quickly adjusted not only to that bulk but to the rest to follow. 
Blane mentally willed his butt to relax, and it did so. He'd been fucked 
enough times in his butch young life that his body knew what was required of 
it in order to get the most out of any screw. 

Jamie put one hand to each of Blane's hips, using his hold to keep the man's 
body relatively static while his pelvis bucked to drive his cock in to the 
root up Blane's butt. Jamie's sizable balls flopped against Blane's ass, the 
resulting ache a supplement to the pleasures spawned by the insertion of his 
cock up the tight asshole. 

Once Jamie's cock was completely inside, Blane unbent, coming again to a 
standing position. Against his back, Blane could feel the smoothness of 
Jamie's chest, the hard buttons that were Jamie's nipples. His arms at his 
sides, Blane brought his hands back along his and Jamie's thighs, reaching 
behind them so that his fingers were able to take hold of Jamie's young ass. 
Blane pulled the boy closer into his body, jiggling his butt to a tighter 
fit into Jamie's lap. 

"I can feel your prick inside me, stud," Blane said, acutely aware of the 
press of the fat cock against his prostate. "It's in real deep." 

Jamie, a bar of soap in his right hand, began to lather Blane's body. 
Jamie's fingers mixed soap suds into the hairs on Blane's chest, painting in 
the lather, drawing swirls and figures on Blane's chest and belly, bath 
hands moving steadily downward for an eventual claiming of Blane's hard 
dick. All the while, Jamie's cock, hard as bone, was securely anchored up 
the confining snugness of Blane's butt. 

The two were actually now moved almost completely out of the spray, but they 
were still engulfed by the mists of rolling steam. The golden crotch hair 
clustered around the root of Jamie's cock were mingled with the darker halts 
that lined the crease of Blane's butt. The two firm buns of Blane's ass were 
joined tightly with Jamie's crotch and lower belly. 

Jamie enjoyed his cock up Blane's ass. It was so fucking exciting having his 
cock jabbed deeply up the hole where the vibrations of the ass walls could 
spasm along the total length of his cock. It was exciting to fuck Blane, 
because Blane was so evidently a man. There was no mistaking Blane for a 
woman or an effeminate faggot. There was just too much muscle here on this 
body, too much brawn, too much cock and bull-like balls. Jamie had never 
fucked a girl, and he couldn't imagine ever wanting to fuck one. A woman 
seemed too soft, too pliant, so possessed of all those characteristics which 
would make a fuck somehow hardly exciting. 

Both of Jamie's hands grabbed hold of Blane's cockshaft, the boy's fingers 
interlacing across the broad underside, his thumbs locking over the equally 
broad back of the cock. Blane's prick was a handful, two handfuls as a 
matter of fact. Jamie could feel the run of veins against his palms and 
fingers. He brought his hands downward into Blane's belly, pulling all the 
loose flesh down over the hard bone like core, of the rod he held. The heels 
of Jamie's hands mashed into the compacting mass of Blane's nuts. As Jamie 
felt the bulge of the cock within his fingers, he couldn't help imagining 
how it would have been to see this huge cock being planted up Greg's ass. Or 
did Greg, after his traumatic gang rape in jail, ever allow Blane to fuck 
him in the ass? Somehow, Blane didn't seem like the type of stud who would 
have long been satisfied with continually playing the bottom man in any gay 
relationship. 

Jamie began his screw in earnest, pulling his cock slowly out of Blane's 
butt as his hands slipped up the shaft of Blane's cock en route to the rosy 
knob. Blane's butt seemed reluctant to release the dick it had so thoroughly 
adjusted to, and the friction caused by all those exiting inches exuded a 
heat that spread to engulf both his asshole and the cock which was fucking 
it. 

"A kid as young as you shouldn't know how to give a guy such a good fuck," 
Blane said, his body trembling with the drag of Jamie's thick cock over and 
against the walnut-sized prostate positioned up his butt. 

"You rather have a fuckin' rookie up your ass, man?" Jamie asked, his hips 
jamming his cock again up the butt, his hands again on a downward stroking 
over the shaft of the cock they were strangling. 

No, Blane far preferred the expert way Jamie's cock was plowing his ass -- 
the kid had a point there. Except it seemed a bit strange, perhaps even a 
bit sad, that someone as young as Jamie was already so knowledgeable about 
sex -- any kind of sex. Blane knew for a fact that there were places in the 
States where a kid Jamie's age wouldn't have been matured beyond his guilt 
complexes from masturbation. Here Jamie was fucking his God 
only-knew-what-number asshole. Blane had been out in the world, seen how the 
other half lived, and he couldn't help wondering if kids like Jamie weren't 
really missing out on a hell of a lot by not being able to discover life or 
sex in a slower, more gradual manner. Life somehow had a way of rushing in 
on the kids in the slums, stealing away childhood's to make mere kids jaded 
adults before their time. 

Jamie leaned his cheek into Blane's back, feeling the softness of the skin, 
the hardness of the muscle knotted beneath it. His cheek stuck in the 
moisture. The boy pumped his ass, gave a continual series of in-and-out 
slides that were slow, long, and languid. 

Jamie suddenly felt very safe with Blane there in the shower. Beyond the 
shower room, the outside doors were locked and secured by four padlocks and 
an alarm system. No one could get in without their knowing about it. No one 
could know what they were doing, could endanger the perfection of their 
mating. Jamie had long ago started coming around after closing to shoot a 
few extra baskets with Blane. Jamie had long ago started to finish up his 
visits with other balls beside those dropped through the white net of the 
hoops. 

With each push and pull of his cock up Blane's ass, Jamie felt the pleasures 
swelling inside of him. He was strangely content in knowing that the 
pleasure wasn't a one-sided thing. Jamie knew that Blane enjoyed these 
sessions. Jamie could tell Blane was enjoying this particular session. It 
was easy to detect the faint trembles that rolled through Blane's body as 
Jamie fucked it. It was easy to distinguish the throbbing of the cock Jamie 
held gripped between his masturbating fingers. It was easy to recognize each 
and every spasming that clamped Blane's asshole tightly around the fucking 
plug of Jamie's cock. 

Jamie was right in his assumption that Blane was enjoying. Hell, yes, Blane 
was having a good time being fucked! Why the hell not? The cock up his butt 
belonged to an attractive young stud who knew a lot about how, to fuck a man 
and make that man enjoy it. The cock up Blane's ass was doing its job. Blane 
liked these moments. They made him thankful that he'd come back to the 
neighborhood. Sex away hadn't been quite like this, but then sex away from 
the slums had never included Greg Bravo or Greg's brother. 

Jamie's cock was drooling its mess of pre-cum with each glide of his cock in 
and out of the asshole. Blane's shitter was sopped with the sticky 
transparent fluid and the soap that somehow managed to make the fucking 
strokes smoother while simultaneously increasing the existing friction of 
flesh against flesh. The fit of the asshole around the cock became even 
tighter, the snug gripping acting more quickly to strip the cock toward its 
climax. 

They were both into the screw by now. Blane's hands still clamped into 
Jamie's butt and aided Jamie on all the inward thrusts. Blane pulled the boy 
into him so that the kid's pelvis bruised his butt even as the cock fucked 
it. 

There was a bubbling of suds at Blane's asshole, churned up inside the bung 
and now foaming at the pucker. The white mass haloed the circumference of 
the cock base, got caught in the webbing of blond hairs that clustered on 
Jamie's lower belly and balls. 

It was good, it was fucking good. And the two would have liked for it to go 
on forever. Lost in sex, they could forget the ugliness of the world beyond 
the shower, beyond the building that housed the recreation center. It was 
dark outside, and in that darkness things were happening which were far 
removed from the beauty of this screw. Men and women were getting raped, 
little old ladies were getting their purses snatched, people were getting 
mugged or knifed or shot, stores were being robbed, teenagers were popping 
pills, shooting heroin, sniffing coke. There was hell all around them, but 
these two men had somehow managed, if only for a few precious moments, to 
find a pocket of heaven within the purgatory. 

Jamie turned his face into Blane's shoulder, his forehead pressing into the 
muscle, his nose pugging. 

"I'm close," Jamie grunted, his fists continuing to whip Blane's cock even 
while the boy's hips moved into a faster fucking rhythm. 

"Let it come, stud," Blane said in reply. "I'm gonna be right there with 
you... right with you... right... JESUS FUCK ALMIGHTY!" 

And Blane was there with him. Or, rather, Jamie was there with Blane, since 
it was Blane who actually went into orbit first. Blane's balls, cum-bulged 
and housed within their grapefruit like mass of tough skin, let loose. The 
hot jizz rushed through the tubes, pulsed out of the slit of Blane's cock 
like a comet with a snow-white tail. The wads of cum were airborne, shot 
after shot blasting free to splatter eventually upon awaiting shower tiles. 

The eruption of Blane's cock sent the man's whole body into spasms of 
ecstasy. His asshole opened wider and then collapsed against Jamie's fucking 
cock. The walls of his asshole undulated along the rod as Blane's guts 
seemed focused at his crotch and ejecting through his own cock. 

Blane's fingers clamped hard into Jamie's butt, squeezed until even that 
firm young flesh turned red and oozed through the spaces between his 
gripping fingers. The visual effects of Greg's beating had faded, but the 
soreness which had remained was aggravated now by the clawlike insistency of 
the fingers on Jamie's butt. The resulting pain, which really didn't seem a 
pain to the hyped boy, was only a mere stimulus to shake Jamie's body with 
its own eruption. 

Jamie let go, his cock feeding Blane's butt with a vomiting of hot, salty 
cum. The cock, which continued a staccato pumping even as it was into 
ejaculation, streamlined through its own mess of sperm, streaked the ass 
walls with jizz, suctioned a wet wash of fuck cream from the bung to let it 
mingle with the soap suds on Jamie's belly and balls. 

Jamie's legs went stiff. Every muscle in his body tautened. His nipples were 
rock-hard against Blane's back. The boy opened his mouth, grunting 
undecipherable words of pleasure as he drooled spit all over Blane's 
shoulder. His fingers wet with the sperm now oozing from Blane's cock, Jamie 
squeezed hard against his handful of man-meat. 

"Jesus," Blane mumbled softly. And for the next few minutes, there were no 
sounds in the room except for the water and the heavy breathing of two 
sexually exhausted studs. 

CHAPTER THREE 

At least being the big boss' son had some advantages, Tyler thought as he 
moved into the smaller pathway that forked off from the main trail and began 
its slow meander through the trees. When the world started to press in, 
Tyler would just inform the foreman that he was taking off the morning or 
the afternoon. Of course, Tyler's little self-announced vacations were 
always quickly jotted down and passed on in reports to W.J., but so far 
there had been no repercussions. Until there were, and possibly even after, 
Tyler would continue to get away occasionally. He suspected his old man 
hadn't put up any complaints so far because Tyler did have some rights, his 
being the heir apparent to the whole company. Aside from that, Tyler's 
breaks with the work routine were actually very rare and could be understood 
by the foreman and the rest of the logging work crew. Tyler, after all, 
wasn't really one of them. 

It was possibly a bit of a surprise to everyone that Tyler had managed to 
fit in with the basically illiterate work group. But then Tyler had always 
seemed to be able to adapt well with circumstances, and this had been no 
exception. It had helped that he didn't really look like the stereotype rich 
kid. In fact, Tyler wasn't really a kid any longer by a long shot of the 
imagination. 

By the time he'd started up as a member of the logging crew, Tyler had been 
through one unsuccessful marriage that had produced a son, had been through 
four years of college, two years of Vietnam, and he was thirty-three years 
of age. Tyler's athletic skills in school and his combat training had given 
him a physique which was as good as any of those men he worked with. Oddly, 
Tyler had been able to mix in with the group and keep his identity a secret 
for over two months before the truth leaked out. By that time, most of the 
men had come to consider Tyler just another one of the guys. When his 
identity did slip out, most of the men continued to like him, but they were 
no longer as friendly and buddy-buddy as they had been. It wasn't that they 
found him any different, but they had recognized the world that suddenly 
existed between them. 

Tyler crossed the little stream and turned to follow tat part of the path 
that angled downhill along the course of the waterway the land he was on 
didn't belong to Franklander Lumber or else it would have been stripped of 
its timber. That's why Tyler had come over here. He was tired of watching 
trees drop on all sides of him and wanted to enjoy a virgin tract of timber. 
He wondered how long it would be before the owner of this acreage sold it 
off to the big companies that were clamoring for the marketable commodity 
that was growing on it. 

Tyler wasn't sure when he realized he wasn't alone. Just one minute he knew 
there was someone watching him and had been watching him for quite some 
time. It was a weird feeling being seen but being unable to see the other 
person, and it wasn't the first time it had happened, now that Tyler thought 
about it. 

Tyler wasn't too happy with his discovery. He had wanted to be alone really. 
Even this invisible personage was an intrusion on the privacy Tyler desired. 

"Hello!" Tyler yelled, his hands to his mouth. He'd stopped on the path. His 
voice disturbed a nest of blackbirds who proceeded to scold him from the 
nearby treetops. Tyler actually hadn't expected any insults, and he was, 
therefore, thoroughly surprised when the kid appeared out of the bushes 
about five yards ahead of him and stood facing Tyler uncertainly. 

"Hi," the boy answered. His voice was low and nervous. Tyler could hardly 
hear him. 

"Hi, yourself," Tyler answered. "You been here for long?" 

"I saw you back down the trail," the boy answered, "but you didn't look like 
you wanted to be disturbed." 

Tyler walked slowly, closing the distance between them. For some reason, the 
kid reminded him of a frightened animal getting ready to bolt. 

"You live around here?" Tyler asked. He continued his approaching, stopping 
about four feet from the boy. 

"Down through there," the kid answered, pointing. "Down by the main road. My 
father owns the land on this side of the river." 

"And he sent you to tell me I was trespassing?" 

"No. I often walk up here and just happened to you." 

"Hope your father doesn't mind my using a couple of his trails," Tyler said. 
"It's getting so torn up over across the way that it sometimes gets a bit 
depressing." 

"Dad says that before long companies like that one are going to have the 
land stripped bare." 

"Your dad knows W.J. Franklander, does he?" Tyler asked. 

"They tried to buy up this land as well as some other acreage we've got over 
on the Horse River," the boy answered, evidently having confused W.J. 
Franklander with his company. "Dad wouldn't sell. He says they don't give 
one shit about ecology." 

"And your dad does care?" Tyler asked. 

"He was raised around here. His dad was here way before any of the logging 
companies came in. Dad hates loggers, but he'll have to give in eventually. 
You can't stop progress." 

"Yeah, I know," Tyler said, reaching for a pine needle on a nearby tree. 
"The world needs more of your fathers and less of the W.J. Franklanders. 
What's your dad's name, son?" 

Tyler had called the kid son, and it really wasn't a misnomer. Tyler's boy 
couldn't have been too much older. It had been a while since Tyler had seen 
Terry. He wondered how the kid was. Tyler really hadn't been much of a 
father. He could see that. He hadn't been much of a husband, either, for 
that matter. He'd been too young to get married. For once he should have 
listened closer to his old man, but, at the time, it had been the old man's 
insistence that Tyler not many which had forced Tyler into his elopement. In 
those days, anything W.J. didn't want had to be for the better. 

"Colby. Jack Colby," the boy said, answering Tyler's question. 

"And you're..." 

"Jeff Colby," the boy said. 

"Well, Jeff, my name's Tyler." He was going to say Tyler Franklander, but he 
decided against it. 

"I know," Jeff answered. He must have thought he'd answered too quickly, 
because he managed an embarrassed look that was followed by a blush. 

"You know my name?" Tyler asked, vaguely curious. He certainly had never 
seen the kid around anywhere before. 

"I heard one of the loggers call you that," Jeff answered, his voice still 
low in an evidenced continuing of his embarrassment. 

"You walking in my direction, Jeff?" Tyler asked, still wondering where Jeff 
had been when he'd heard one of the loggers call Tyler by name. Surely not 
on the other side of the river. But if it had been on this side when Jeff 
had heard someone call Tyler by name, ten it had been during the couple of 
times Tyler had been over here with Carl Jordan. If that were the case, the 
boy's admission suddenly offered some interesting possibilities. Tyler tried 
to remember if he'd had the feeling of being watched on those couple of 
times he and Carl had been looking for a secluded spot in which to have some 
privacy. 

Without further talk, the two started down the path together. Finally, they 
reached a place where the stream bed bowled into a natural pond. Tyler, who 
was going ahead because of the narrowness of the path at that point, waited 
for Jeff with his ass leaned against a moss-covered boulder. It was quiet in 
the woods, peaceful. 

Jeff left the pathway, walking on stones to the edge of the pool. He 
squatted down and dropped his fingers into the water. 

"I swim here sometimes," Jeff said, turning to give a quick look at Tyler. 
Jeff's eyes didn't linger long. Tyler was watching him, a curious expression 
on his handsome face. Maybe Tyler was wondering where Jeff had learned his 
name. Maybe it was a mistake to have let that slip. How would Tyler react if 
he'd known the boy had been watching when Tyler and that other logger had 
had sex? Or maybe he already knew. That thought made Jeff tremble. 

"How is it?" Tyler asked. 

Hard, Jeff wanted to answer, but Tyler hadn't been referring to the state of 
the boy's cock. He had been referring to the temperature of the water. 

"A little cold, still," Jeff said. He dipped his hand into the water again, 
letting the liquid spill through his fingers. 

Tyler wiped the palms of his hands against his trouser legs, realizing they 
were sweating. He was mildly shaken by what he'd just been thinking. At 
thirty-three, it wouldn't be too hard to start feeling like a dirty old man. 
Tyler remembered now that it had only been a couple of minutes ago that he 
had remarked to himself that Jeff Colby was probably little younger than his 
own boy. 

"How old are you, Jeff?" Tyler asked, his thoughts taking verbal form before 
he'd actually realized it. 

"Eighteen," Jeff said. 

Jeff knew what Tyler was thinking. Why in the hell was everyone so concerned 
about age? Jeff knew his own mind -- at least enough of it to know what he 
wanted from Tyler. Why was it that older men always seemed to think they 
were taking advantage of anyone under twenty-one? Didn't it ever occur to 
them that some kids wanted to be taken advantage of? He certainly wasn't 
here now because Tyler had searched him out. So far, Jeff had been the 
aggressor. Jeff had spotted Tyler over a month ago, had gone home and jacked 
off while thinking about the man before he'd ever dreamed his fantasizing 
might actually come to be the reality. Jeff still remembered the day he'd 
seen Tyler and that other man, both of them hot and sweaty and grunting like 
two animals. He'd gone home and dreamed about it. He'd been embarrassed in 
the morning when he'd awoke to find his sheets soaked with his nocturnal 
emissions. He'd been glad that hadn't been the day to get new sheets. His 
mother would have probably flipped. 

So, why should that other man, that logger, get to have all of the fun just 
because he was older than Jeff was? Jeff knew just as well as that hunky 
bastard what he wanted, and he wanted what was between Tyler's legs. Jeff 
didn't want to waste away most of his young years experimenting with kids as 
ignorant as he was. He wanted a teacher who knew what he was doing. Tyler 
knew what he was doing. Jeff had seen that, watching concealed as the two 
loggers had mated with each other on the forest floor. It might have been 
different if Jeff were uncertain about his homosexuality, but he knew what 
he wanted. He wanted cock. Tyler had a cock. Jesus, did Tyler have one. Jeff 
had seen it, and Jeff now wanted it. 

"You know, I have a son about your age," Tyler said, watching the boy, 
wondering -- despite himself -- if the basket Jeff was showing could 
possibly be real or his imagination. It was hard to think of a kid this 
young as a sexual animal, of having balls that had dropped and sprouted 
hair, of having a cock that could spurt thick cum. Was Tyler's son now going 
around with the equipment of a man hung between his legs. Tyler could wonder 
that despite an inner embarrassment in doing so. 

"Do you have an age hang-up?" Jeff asked. "I don't." 

Jeff stood up, knowing the bulge of his swollen cock would be more than 
evident against his left thigh. He wanted Tyler to know that Jeff knew the 
score, that Jeff wasn't a kid about to be seduced by an older man but rather 
someone who wanted what Tyler had to give and who had gone to the point of 
searching the older man out to get it. 

Tyler knew what he would have liked Jeff to mean by his comment on age 
hang-up, but he couldn't believe that's how it actually was. What did Jeff 
Colby know about sex? What, especially, did Jeff Colby know about male-male 
sex? 

The answer to that, for all practical purposes, was that Jeff knew really 
very little except that he would have liked to know a good deal more. The 
boy had played the normal amount of grab-ass games with the other boys. He'd 
graduated to jacking off and had once been a member of a circle-jerk. The 
latter, composed of a total of four boys, had resulted in none of the kids 
involved talking to each other for a month after it was over. Most of the 
male-male sex Jeff had, thus, had been in his mind. After he had seen Tyler 
and that other logger in action, however, he had come away with a bit more 
of the specifics. Male-male sex consisted of sucking cock and fucking ass. 
Jeff had seen cock sucked, seen ass fucked, and he hadn't been turned off by 
it. Quite to the contrary, rather than having been revolted by the display 
of two males in rut, Jeff had merely found himself wondering how it would be 
to fill his own mouth with cock, fill his own butt with cock, jab his own 
healthy cock up another man's deep throat or deep asshole. Now his fantasies 
were no longer just any male but a specific one -- Tyler. Jeff wanted to 
know more about what Tyler had been doing with that other stud in the woods 
that day. Couldn't Tyler see that? Couldn't Tyler see the swollen mass of 
cock at Jeff's groin and know the boy was just waiting to be shown the 
secrets Tyler knew and which Jeff desired to know? 

"You're so young," Tyler said, knowing his own cock had gone hard and was 
bulging his pants at his crotch. His reaction was to want to conceal his 
obscene hard-on, but any attempts to have done so would have only called 
Jeff's attention more closely to it. 

"Does so young mean too young?" Jeff asked. He was surprised at how he was 
acting. Maybe he had just determined at the outset that he wasn't going to 
be talked out of doing what he wanted to do. He'd known from the minute he'd 
lucked onto Tyler again that this was the day it was meant to happen between 
them. Today Tyler was alone. Today Tyler would have no one else with him to 
pull down his pants and suck his fat cock. Today Jeff would be that person. 
As if hypnotized, Jeff had found himself walking out to meet Tyler when the 
man had sensed his presence back on the trail. Jeff had come out because 
he'd known that today was the day he'd been waiting for his whole life, and, 
by God, no one was going to deprive him of it -- not even Tyler, not even if 
Jeff had to rape the older man right where he stood. 

Tyler was confused. He couldn't believe what was happening. He couldn't 
believe Jeff's hard-on, and he couldn't believe his own. He couldn't imagine 
Jeff's words being a veiled invitation for sex. Does so young mean too 
young? What had the kid meant by that? Too young for what? For sex? Jesus, 
Tyler thought, he must be out of his head to imagine a proposition for sex 
from such a young kid. 

Jeff walked the short distance that separated them. He walked with a 
determination that told him there was no time like the present to get this 
phase of his sexual initiation out of the way. It was going to be now or 
never. Jeff knew what he wanted, and he was determined to get it. He'd 
decided each night in the privacy of his own bedroom, his hand wrapped 
around his cock, that it was going to be Tyler who was going to take him 
through the mysteries, Tyler with his butch studly body, his muscles, his 
fat cock and hairy balls. 

"I saw what you and that other logger did out there that day," Jeff said. 
His voice sounded strange in his ears. He felt a sudden flushing of power 
through his body as he saw the various emotions race suddenly across Tyler's 
face -- fear, confusion, desire. Jeff felt very much in control. It was a 
feeling he enjoyed, one which he nurtured. 

"Me and what man?" Tyler asked. Why was his cock hard? Why was he beginning 
to sweat? Why was he here now with this young kid? He looked at Jeff, at the 
boy's blond hair, his blue eyes, his boyishly undeveloped chest beneath the 
shirt, the manly bulge of the cock in the boy's trousers. 

"You know what man," Jeff said, challenging. "I know what man. I was 
watching the both of you. I watched you all the time -- from the beginning 
to the end." 

"I don't know what you mean," Tyler said. So, why didn't he leave? Why was 
he glued to the boulder he was leaning against? Why was he suddenly so 
afraid? 

"You leaned your back up against a tree," Jeff said. "And the guy tat was 
with you began to undo your belt." 

Jeff's fingers found the buckle at Tyler's waist, began to unfasten it. 

"What in the hell are you doing?" Tyler asked, slapping the kid's hands 
violently, too violently, away. His action surprised himself as well as the 
boy. 

Jeff was confused. He felt very much the child again, being suddenly 
chastised by a grownup for something he'd done wrong. Jeff had lost his 
sense of dominance in this situation, and he now fought to regain a portion 
of it. He put his hands back on Tyler's belt, angry to find his eyes 
blurring with the tears that were swelling inside of him. 

Tyler didn't slap the boy's hands again, but he didn't let them go on to 
immediately do what they wanted to. He grabbed them instead with his own 
hands, holding them secure in a viselike grip. 

"Stop it, Jeff!" Tyler said, his voice sounding low in his throat. 

"Why?" Jeff asked. He was crying, and he knew he was crying, and he suddenly 
hated Tyler for ruining the way it should have gone, for ruining the way 
Jeff had always imagined it would be. Jeff would have undone Tyler's pants. 
He would have unzipped the man's trousers, just like he'd seen that other 
man do it. Then he'd have reached into the opened fly and taken hold of the 
white-hot shaft of Tyler's cock and dragged the stiff rod into the open. 
He'd have dropped to his knees and kissed the swollen head of that cock. He 
would have sucked on it while Tyler commanded him to eat prick like he had 
commanded that other man that day in the grove. But Tyler had spoiled all of 
how it should have been. The Goddamned sonofabitch had mined it! 

"Try to understand," Tyler said, his voice sounding hoarse, his chest gone 
tight. 

"Let me go, you queer bastard!" Jeff screamed. He almost managed to jerk his 
hands free, but Tyler continued to hold him, somehow now afraid to let the 
boy go. 

"Jeff, I want you to try and understand," Tyler said. Jesus, what did he 
want Jeff to understand? That Tyler was on the verge of pulling out his cock 
and feeding it up the boy's mouth? That Tyler was tempted to yank down the 
boy's pants and feed all of his prick up Jeff's tight virgin ass? Could any 
young boy understand that? Even begin to understand that? 

"Bastard!" Jeff exclaimed. "Queer, queer, cocksucking bastard!" 

Jeff tried again to wrench his hands free, but he couldn't. He felt 
mortified, ashamed. He wanted someone, and they didn't want him. The boy was 
humiliated. He only wanted to get away now, run away, hide away. He was 
still crying, and he hadn't cried in years -- not even when his father 
punished him. A man didn't cry. Only women cried. Tyler's refusal had 
somehow managed to make Jeff feel less than a man. 

"You're so young," Tyler said, still frying to explain both to himself and 
to Jeff. "Christ, can't you see I'm old enough to be your father?" 

Jeff stopped struggling. 

"And I'm old enough to get a hard-on," Jeff said, attempting to regain some 
aspect of his dignity. "I'm old enough to want something. So, who's going to 
judge when I'm old enough to get it? You?" 

Tyler used his hold on Jeff's hands to pull the boy closer to him. He looked 
down on the youth who was a good foot shorter than he was. He waited until 
Jeff appeared relatively calm. 

"If I let you go, will you promise not to run?" Tyler asked finally. 

For a good fifteen seconds, Tyler waited for the answer. When it came, it 
was merely a mumbling. 

"Was that a yes or a no?" Tyler asked. 

"I won't run," Jeff promised, although he wondered about the purpose of 
staying. What was the point? 

Tyler released his hold, waiting tentatively for the boy's attempt to bolt. 
Jeff didn't run. He was so physically close to Tyler that he was acutely 
aware of the man's exuding warmth. He was close enough to be acutely aware 
of the hardness beneath the stretched material of Tyler's crotch. If there 
was a hard cock there, it was there for some reason. So, what was the 
reason? Was Tyler holding back only because of the difference in their ages? 
Was tat really all that was keeping them apart -- Tyler's misconception that 
anything he did was a taking advantage of a kid who was more than half his 
age? Could Tyler actually still believe tat after Jeff had made a fool out 
of himself to play the aggressor? 

Tyler moved his hands slowly, bringing them to Jeff's tear-stained face. He 
ran his fingers along the boy's cheeks, his thumbs gently tracing the curve 
of the boy's lips. He lifted Jeff's face to look upward toward his own, 
looking at it, marveling at the blueness of the boy's eyes. He dropped 
slowly to his knees, his new positioning making Jeff taller. Tyler's hands 
left the boy's face and glided down Jeff's body, resting finally, on the 
youth's hips and holding there. 

"How often have you and someone else done what you saw me and that other man 
do?" Tyler asked, his voice now gentle and soothing. He found himself very 
cognizant of the bulging of Jeff's crotch. It was hard to believe that all 
that evident hardness belonged to one so young. 

"What difference does that make?" Jeff asked. "Are you going to tell me how 
many times you've done that sort of thing before?" 

"No," Tyler said, "I guess not." 

Tyler moved his hands, brought them slowly to begin the unbuttoning of 
Jeff's shirt. Jeff didn't move, hardly believing it was beginning to happen. 

Tyler's fingers moved deftly. Even Tyler was amazed at how smoothly his 
fingers released the buttons, revealing the hairless expanse of the chest 
beneath. Tyler ran his hand up over the naked chest, working the shirt off 
over the boy's shoulders. Jeff let the shirt fall to the ground behind him, 
not bothering to even make an effort to pick it up. 

Jeff's flesh was golden, toasted by the sun. It was smooth beneath Tyler's 
fingers. Tyler ran his hand over it, bowed his face into it, tasted it with 
his lips and his tongue. 

Jeff put his hand into Tyler's hair, feeling the silkiness of it as he was 
simultaneously experiencing the wet warmth of Tyler's tongue. What in the 
name of Christ had all the problem been? This was what Jeff had wanted. This 
surely was what Tyler wanted. So, why had there ever been the silly pretense 
that it had been otherwise? 

Jeff's body wasn't without definition. The outline of the pectorals was 
formed but not developed. The belly was firm and flat, stretched between the 
two hipbones and punctuated with an indented navel. Tyler's tongue found 
first one nipple and then the other, aware of how they rose to meet his 
tongue. The flesh tasted of boy, of youth. Tyler rubbed his cheek against 
Jeff's belly and then began unzipping the boy's pants. 

Jeff felt Tyler's fingers expertly undoing the top snap of his pants and 
beginning to draw down the zipper. Despite himself, the boy was apprehensive 
about what Tyler would find. Jeff knew he had a big cock for his age, but 
how would it compare to the man-cock Tyler had been used to? Jeff hadn't 
seen tat many naked men to form an adequate basis for comparison. He'd seen 
his PE teacher's cock in the showers at school. He'd seen his father's cock. 
Both of those didn't seem so much more impressive than his own dick, but 
those were only two people, two cocks. Jeff was suddenly afraid that now 
that Tyler was going to see him, his dick wouldn't stand up against the 
others Tyler had come across. 

Size was the last thing on Tyler's mind. The man had never been a size 
queen. He would have been equally delighted with a six-inch cock or a 
ten-inch cock. He was only thrilled now that he was about to get this boy's 
prick at all. He was excited by the anticipation, was suddenly starved for 
the taste of the boy's rod no matter what the size. 

Tyler put his hand into the breach of the fly, his fingers working into the 
opening at the crotch of the boy's underwear. He found the hard warmth of 
the prickshaft, the bulk of it still bent downward along the boy's left 
thigh. 

Jeff groaned with the feel of strange fingers on his dick. He dug his 
fingers involuntarily into Tyler's scalp in direct response to the pleasure. 

How was any of this wrong? Tyler asked himself as he pried the cock up and 
out of its nesting. He certainly wasn't a dirty old man seducing a young 
boy. He was merely enjoying something natural with a member of his own sex. 
The kid had been right. If Jeff actually knew what he wanted, then who was 
Tyler to tell him differently? After all if it hadn't happened with Tyler, 
mightn't it have happened with someone else? And God only knew the trauma to 
be had with being brought out by the wrong man. Maybe it was better to be 
doing it here and now. Tyler knew he would be gentle. If this was actually 
the boy's first time, that gentleness would be important, wouldn't it? 

Jeff's cock was hard. Were all boys' cock this hard? The erection was jabbed 
downward into the left pants leg. Tyler pried it out a little at a time 
until the dick broke completely free of its confines and bounded immediately 
to an upjutting position. 

Had Tyler been a size queen, he would have had little complaint with the 
prick Jeff was offering him. The evidence of size and bulk which had been 
only hinted at behind the bulge of the boy's clothed crotch was now proved 
even larger in the reality. Tyler could hardly believe that a cock that size 
was sprung from the belly of a mere child. 

The cock was a good ten inches of blue-veined meat. It was thick as well as 
long, and even Tyler's large hand was going to have trouble making a 
completed fist around it. It rose from a nest of blond crotch hair, the 
strands of that hair poking out at the base of the cock. The underside was 
wide, rising from the root to the circumcised knob. The cockhead at the 
summit was heart-shaped, flaring before tapering to the end. The cum-slit 
was deep and pink, beaded with pre-cum. Some of the juice had already leaked 
free while the cock had been confined in Jeff's pants. Tyler's fingers had 
detected the dampness of the underwear, and the man could clearly see the 
shiny slick of those juices on the knob and on the neck of the thick dick. 

With the unveiling of the cock in all of its glory, Tyler knew he had come 
to the point where there would be no turning back. The man knew he would 
have to have it. If he had had any doubts and inhibitions of taking on a kid 
so young, they would have to be discarded now. 

Tyler reached his right hand back into Jeff's pants, cupping the full warmth 
of his balls and scooping the scrotum out to hang downward over the opened 
zipper. 

The balls and the sac which contained them were the perfect complement for 
the massive cock reared above them. The bag of flaccid skin, covered as it 
was with a furring of wiry blond hair, moved with its own life. Tyler 
watched the movement and was excited by it. 

By not looking at the rest of Jeff's body, by not concentrating on anything 
but the prick and the accompanying balls, Tyler could easily imagine Jeff 
was a man. He thought momentarily of fantasizing the man rather than the boy 
throughout the whole ensuing sexual encounter, but then he discarded the 
idea. What would have been the point? His pretending to suck a man's dick 
wasn't going to change the fact that Jeff was only a boy, so Tyler had 
better face up to that fact from the beginning and enjoy it. Now that Tyler 
had come this far, he knew he was going to enjoy it. He'd known from the 
beginning he would enjoy sex with this young teenager, and that was what had 
been partly responsible for Tyler's initial panic when the boy had moved to 
unbuckle Tyler's pants. But that panic was now gone. 

Desire for the boy had taken over Tyler's body. Those desires wouldn't leave 
him until long after Tyler had feasted on the fuck cream that was bulging 
Jeff's balls. The man knew it, wondering if he would ever be sorry. The boy 
knew it, well realizing this moment had been long hoped for and would be 
long remembered. 

Tyler bent his head into Jeff's crotch, momentarily by-passing the cock in 
favor of the nuts. He pursed his lips to kiss the bag, sucked to siphon the 
loose skin into his mouth. The hair-covered flesh slipped inward until one 
ball and ten the other popped trough Tyler's ovaled lips and into his mouth. 
Tyler's mouth moved to a position that was flush with the underside of 
Jeff's thick cock. His nose was pressed firmly into the dick, smelling the 
delightful aromas of a clean young male's sex. 

Jeff felt his legs go weak. For a brief instant, as Tyler's face was sucking 
up the boy's balls, Jeff thought he was going to faint with the pleasure. He 
held to Tyler for support, his fingers still on the man's scalp, his fingers 
lost amid the silkiness of all that tousled black hair. 

This wasn't how Jeff had imagined it would be. 

It was better. He had always suspected it would be himself who would uncover 
Tyler's balls, go down on Tyler's cock. How surprised he now was to find his 
cock bared, his balls wet up Tyler's sucking mouth. 

Tyler's cheeks were ballooned with his large mouthful of meat. He swished 
the sac and its balls back and forth, drowning the scrotum in a mess of 
bubbling warm saliva. Increasing the suctioning that had originally drawn 
the gonads and their covering into his mouth, Tyler's cheeks collapsed 
inward on the nuts, squeezing the delicate balls until a dull aching seemed 
to radiate outward into the pit of Jeff's belly. The boy felt the aching and 
was surprised that the discomfort of it was not completely lacking in its 
additional degree of pleasure. 

Tyler was not long over Jeff's nuts. His hunger had only been increased for 
a taste of the hard male cock above them. Tyler pulled his head back from 
Jeff's crotch, stretching the big balls. Finally, one ball and then the 
other popped free. The weight of the released nuts drooped the sac back 
between Jeff's thighs. The scrotum was wet with Tyler's spit, was already 
beginning to contract and pull upward toward the base of Jeff's cock. The 
skin of the sac continued to move, continued to grow thicker as the boy's 
body was priming for its orgasm. 

Tyler's tongue gave the nuts one final licking and moved upward for its 
first contact with the boy's prick. The hardness of the cock was hot against 
Tyler's tongue. He lapped the underside, his tongue moving upward toward the 
rosy knob. Simultaneously, his hands had moved to the boy's butt, his 
fingers anchoring in the pants-covered buns. 

How many cocks had Tyler sucked? How was this particular cock any different 
from any of those? He had sucked many cocks, having lost count long ago of 
just exactly how many, and this cock was different, even if Tyler wasn't 
able to actually define those characteristics that distinguished it from the 
others. 

Tyler's tongue reached the spongy knob, feeling the shaft trembling beneath 
his licking as he robbed the pouting cum-slit of those juices which had 
pooled there and started to overflow. 

Tyler worked his forehead into Jeff's lower belly, able now to get a good 
view down the whole length of the dick. Along the back was a latticing of 
fine blue veins that appeared and then disappeared along the expanse of 
milky flesh. There was one vein, bigger than the others, that began at the 
base of the cock and meandered up the back until it faded again into the 
skin at the beginnings of the circumcision scar tissue. Tyler would feel the 
run of that vein along his upper lip as he dove over Jeff's prick. His 
anticipation of doing so only made the man that much hotter. 

Eagerly, Tyler put his lips to the head of the cock, dropping them downward 
until they'd slipped into the groove formed by the flaring of the knob. 
There was a new flushing of pre-cum onto his tongue, the taste of which made 
him immediately hungry for even more of the cock than he had already managed 
to claim. He dived, the blunt head of Jeff's rod butting his palate and 
arching back through the opening of his throat. Tyler continued to suck up 
the cock until he felt his throat beginning to reject it. Then he paused, 
waiting for his face to adjust to the inches of cock which had already dived 
in to fuck it. 

Jeff moaned. He couldn't help it. This sucking warmth that was beginning to 
engulf his whole cock was an entirely new experience for the boy. Here was 
noting that could be duplicated by grab-ass games in the gym or by jacking 
off with cold cream in the privacy of the bathroom. This was something you 
couldn't adequately know until you were part of the experience. Even Jeff's 
wildest fantasies were now made pale by the actuality of the moment. 

Jeff heard noises, low animalistic growls, and he didn't immediately 
recognize them as his own. His legs were actually shaking, his fingers 
kneading Tyler's head as if the man's scalp was a blob of raw dough. 

It took a relatively short time before Tyler was able to proceed further. 
He'd sucked enough cock in his time that his throat was able to easily 
adjust to the biggest dicks anyone ever offered him. Jeff's cock, despite 
its magnificent bulk and length, had been no exception to the rule. There 
was only a two-second lapse between Tyler's pause and his completion of the 
slide down over the rest of Jeff's rod. 

Tyler reached bottom, his lips gumming the base of the cock. His nose 
burrowed into the blond crotch hairs, his chin pressing into the contracting 
mass of the youth's balls. 

"Oh, Jesus!" Jeff squealed. 

Both Tyler and Jeff were surprised by the sudden orgasm that racked the 
young blonds body. Tyler was, perhaps, the more surprised of the two, since 
Jeff felt the explosion in his brain before it was transferred to his 
spasming cock. Tyler, used to sucking on cocks jaded by the experience of 
being swung on by male head, hadn't really anticipated the quick results to 
be had from his expert mouth and tongue working over a cock that was virgin 
to male mouth or ass. Tyler automatically sucked away the cream, however, 
marveling nevertheless at the tremendous amount. He sucked and sucked some 
more, and even then there seemed to be a new wad of jizz leaving the cock 
and flooding his throat with each successive gulping. 

Jeff, who had been temporarily lost to the world as his orgasmic shudders 
possessed him, could momentarily think of nothing but the ecstasy. As the 
climax washed over him, passing into its final moments, however, Jeff knew 
that, as pleasurable as it had all been, he'd somehow shot off a little 
early. He'd watched Tyler when the man had been sucked off by that logger, 
and it had seemed to Jeff that Tyler was never going to get his rocks off. 
Yet Jeff had blasted his nuts almost as soon as Tyler's face had moved to 
completely take in his cock. The boy was disappointed that it was to be over 
so quickly, even though he wouldn't have missed out on it for the world. 

Tyler was disappointed, too, since he had only just begun to enjoy the taste 
of the boy's cock. He was so disappointed, in fact, that he had no 
intentions of immediately giving up his mouthful. The dick he was eating, 
even though it had finally finished spitting up cum, was still hard. Tyler 
was determined to keep it that way. 

Jeff, who thought it would all be finished when he'd quit orgasming, was 
delighted to find that Tyler was apparently no way done with his prick. 
Jeff, knowing he was good for at least another come, was determined not to 
shoot off prematurely a second time. He was glad Tyler hadn't spit out his 
cock, happy that the man hadn't been disgusted by Jeff's inability to hold 
on that first time, overjoyed that Tyler had enough foresight to know that 
Jeff was good for more than just one blast-off before his cock would shrivel 
into uselessness. 

In fact, Tyler was relatively surprised that Jeff's cock hadn't seemed to 
lose any of its hardness after the volume of cum it had given up during the 
first blasting. The fact that Jeff's cock was still bone-hard, more than 
anything, could point up to Tyler that he was indeed eating the cock of a 
young stud in his prime. Maybe it was ridiculous to delegate teenagers into 
celibate corners until they came of legal age. By the time they did become 
of age, some of their best sexual years had been wasted away on jacking off. 

Tyler's face began to slide up the cock, his tongue lapping the rod in 
seeming challenge for it to dare and go soft, his saliva glands continuing 
to manufacture new gushings of spit to bathe the cock in sticky wetness. 

Tyler's lips came upward to the flaring of the knob, paused only momentarily 
for a quick inhalation of air before dropping once again down over the cock. 
While the first trip down the shaft had required a brief respite at the 
halfway point, the second fall was successfully achieved in one, long, fluid 
motion. Tyler's throat had adjusted, knew what to now expect. 

Again down at the root of the cock, Tyler wasted little time before 
returning back up the shaft. In fact, his head moved easily into a bouncing 
cadence that drew the dick totally in and then spit it almost out of Tyler's 
hungry mouth. Tyler's firm lips pulled and pushed the outer layer of loose 
skin over the more solid inner core of Jeff's hard prick. 

Jeff's pleasure, which had peaked during his first orgasm, had never really 
completely drained away in the aftermath of that climax. Tyler's immediately 
move to work the cock for a second eruption had managed to hold Jeff on a 
fairly high plateau of enjoyment. Now, as Tyler's face was well into its 
bounce over Jeff's cock, the pleasure had begun to swell once again within 
the boy's body. Jeff was worried tat the pleasure was, perhaps, swelling too 
fast. He'd often jacked off twice in succession, but the enjoyment during a 
second masturbation never built up as quickly as it was doing now. But then, 
this experience was so sensuously superior to beating his meat, there could 
really be no basis for comparison between the two. 

Tyler sucked, his lips again gumming the root of the cock and then again 
beginning another upward slide. His tongue wrapped around the hard rod, 
beating it until the cum-slit wept more and more pre-cum. His mouth was 
stretched wide, so wide that the corners of it pained with the yawning. 

It was a lovely cock -- this cock -- Tyler now had in his mouth. The taste 
of the meat itself, combined with the residue of hot cum still on Tyler's 
tastebuds, made for a delicious meal. Tyler couldn't remember when he had 
enjoyed sucking a cock so much. His last sex had been with Carl, and that 
had certainly been okay. Carl had been a handsome enough stud, with a fat 
uncircumcised dick, but eating tat foreskin-shrouded tool just wasn't the 
same as this. 

The fact that Tyler was having such a good time could partially be accounted 
to the fact that it had been a long time since his last sex -- a month being 
a long time for someone as virile as Tyler Franklander. After the discovery 
that Tyler was the boss' son, Tyler's relationship with Carl had cooled. 
Their sex was never the same once it was known who Tyler was. Carl was a kid 
who'd been raised in the woods, hadn't even finished high school. He 
couldn't cope with the idea of having the boss' son suck him off or vice 
versa. Since then, Tyler had been alone. 

He was alone no longer. Here in the woods, away from the prying eyes of 
everyone, Tyler was sucking cock -- big cock, big cock that was on a young 
boy. He was enjoying. He would continue to enjoy. There was something 
infinitely thrilling about taking a virgin prick into his mouth, tasting 
virgin cum before anyone else could sample its flavor. Tyler couldn't have 
known how much of a turn-on eating virgin dick could be until now. He was 
hotter than hell, and he hadn't even touched his own rod. He could almost 
come by just sucking on this boy's cock. Wouldn't that have been a new 
experience for Tyler? But then, even if Tyler's dick wasn't about to blast 
on its own without a little help from his hand, the whole experience was a 
new one for Tyler. Because if Jeff had never before had his cock sucked by 
another man, this was the first time Tyler's mouth had done its work on 
someone as young as Jeff. Before, he had steered away from younger meat, 
jail-bait, kids who Tyler figured didn't know their minds and who he felt 
would be better off finding out which way they wanted to go without any help 
from him. Maybe he'd made a mistake before. Maybe there were young kids like 
Jeff who already knew what they wanted. Why shouldn't Tyler's mouth find 
them? As Tyler's lips glided once more over the uprisen bulk of the cock, 
dropped to the stalwart root, dragged upward until the dominant vein on the 
prick's back had ridden its length along Tyler's upper lip, the man somehow 
suspected that Jeff was liable to be his first and last experience with 
young, virgin boys. Few young men would be approaching Tyler as Jeff had 
done, and Tyler somehow didn't see himself approaching them. With that 
realization playing through his brain, Tyler was determined to enjoy this 
sex while it was his. 

Jeff found his hips had assumed a back and forth movement to coincide with 
Tyler's sucking, a fucking motion that drove his cock as Tyler took it, that 
pulled his cock as Tyler released it. The boy's hands, still on Tyler's 
head, rode with the up-and-down cadence of Tyler's sucking face. 

"Eat me, eat me, eat me!" Jeff said, his voice breathless, remembering how 
it had been, how excited he'd become when Tyler had made that demand of Carl 
in the grove of trees that one, hot afternoon Jeff had watched with his hand 
full of his own hard cock. 

The buildup to the orgasm wasn't as long as Jeff had suspected it would be, 
but it was long enough so that when Tyler sensed its approach, he didn't do 
anything to slow down the speed of its arrival. There were several things 
Tyler might have done to keep Jeff's orgasm in abeyance. He might have 
squeezed the boy's balls hard, letting the pain cancel out some of the 
pleasure. He could have clamped down hard into the cock at the flare of the 
knob. He could have scraped the cock with teeth unprotected by the fuck of 
the lips. He could have pulled his face completely away to remove all 
stimulus. But Tyler did none of those things or anything else to impede the 
flow of pleasure through Jeff's body. Tyler was hungry for Jeff's second 
load, and Jeff prepared to serve it to him. 

Tyler hungrily ate the hard cock, siphoning it into the depths of his 
throat, aware of how compact the once-flaccid sac flesh had become at the 
cock base. The boy's scrotum had grouped itself into a mass the size of a 
grapefruit, the balls it contained bulging with newly manufactured fuck 
cream. Beneath Tyler's fingers, Jeff's butt had gone solid with taut 
muscles. His belly was drawn in tighter than usual and sweat glossed his 
skin. The crotch of the boy's trousers was soaked with a mingling of Tyler's 
saliva and his own drooled pre-cum. 

Inside Tyler's mouth, Jeff's cock began to throb noticeably, as if it were 
an entity all its own. The man mentally prepared for the teenager's climax, 
prepared to physically siphon away all evidence of that climax once it 
occurred. 

"Oh, fuck!" Jeff mumbled. His hands automatically shoved Tyler's head 
downward over his cock just as it began erupting thick jizz. In 
accompaniment to the downward thrusting of his hands which pinioned Tyler on 
the exploding cock, Jeff bucked his hips forward so that his crotch ground 
into Tyler's feeding face. 

For Jeff, the second orgasm even surpassed the first in its intensity. The 
boy shut his eyes, threw back his head, opened his mouth and gave a growling 
of pure, unadulterated pleasure. For those too-brief seconds of orgasm, Jeff 
thought his whole body was being vacuumed through his cock and jettisoning 
into the depths of Tyler's belly. 

Tyler wasn't surprised at the orgasm -- that, after all, being what he had 
so diligently been working to achieve. What did surprise him was the large 
volume of wet, warm sperm Jeff proceeded to feed him. After the seeming 
gallon of spunk which had accompanied the first eruption, it was 
inconceivable that there was all of this cum which had remained to follow. 
Yet, there it was -- milky, creamy, warm slugs of coagulated sperm. With 
each trembling of Jeff's cock and body, another load let go, until the cock 
was still jerking, Jeff's body still quivering when all of the jizz was 
finally gone. 

Tyler sucked up the last tardy traces, reluctantly releasing Jeff's dick 
from his mouth. He looked upward, seeing Jeff's flushed face looking down at 
him. 

"Thank you," Jeff said, his voice hoarse, his hands still resting on Tyler's 
head. It was the only thing he could think of to say. 

"My pleasure," Tyler answered, and the hardness of his cock somehow told him 
he wasn't finished with Jeff Colby's studly young body yet -- not by a long 
shot. 

CHAPTER FOUR 

It was good sex, but it wasn't the same as it had once been, and that, Blane 
supposed, was only as it should be. He and Tad were, after all, now 
different than when they'd first met as two college frosh and launched a 
whirlwind of sex and mutual discovery. Blane had been the high-school jock 
who had gotten to college on a track and field scholarship, and Tad had been 
the rich man's son who had balked at his father's plans for Harvard and 
opted instead for the state university. Looking back, Blane suspected their 
relationship had begun on pretty flimsy footing. Blane had been out to prove 
that even if he came from the slums, he could still make it with somebody 
like Tad Thaner. Tad had thought it would really be a bit of a lark if his 
old man ever found out he was carrying on a torrid homosexual romance with a 
kid so evidently from the other side of the tracks. That their relationship 
had blossomed into something deeper had actually surprised them both. They'd 
had many long discussions that went on deep into the night as they tried, 
like most college kids, to come up with the answers to life and the 
universe, and, like those who had come before them, they'd solved no great 
problems, answered no mysteries. But they had gotten uproariously drunk on 
more than one happy occasion and had had a lot of good times. After 
graduation, they had both made solemn pledges to keep in touch, but they had 
gone from regular correspondence to merely exchanging Christmas cards in 
less than three years. Blane had gotten the wedding announcement eight 
months before and had been a little too short on cash at the time to send a 
gift. He wouldn't have gone to the wedding or reception under most 
circumstances anyway. He didn't know Miss Jocelyn Potter-Sykes, but he knew 
he wouldn't like her. He had sent a note of congratulations instead. 

When he'd opened the door, he hadn't immediately recognized Tad. It wasn't 
that Tad looked any older, it was just that Tad had been the last person in 
the world he'd expected to see. Blane had thought it was Jamie knocking, 
even though Jamie had already stated earlier that he wouldn't be by. Still, 
Blane had hoped Jamie had somehow gotten away, since very few people showed 
up at the recreation center after it was closed. 

"I know you were probably expecting some handsome young stud," Tad said, 
smiling, "but at least try to act a little pleased." 

"Tad?" Blane asked, his vocal recognition actually preceding his conscious 
one. "Christ, it can't be!" 

"Well, close your Goddamned mouth and invite me in," Tad said. "I was afraid 
I was going to get mugged before you even opened the door. The fucking cabby 
didn't bother waiting, even after I'd given him a tip tat was too damned 
big. You'd have thought I'd asked him to take me to the moon instead of just 
across town." 

"Can in this neighborhood get ripped off while in motion," Blane said. 
"You're lucky you got him past Jackson Street at this time of the night." 

"Doesn't it scare you, living in an area that the police are afraid to 
patrol even in the day?" Tad asked, walking past Blane and into the hallway 
beyond. 

Blane locked the door, turning to face Tad. It finally began to sink in that 
it was really Tad Thaner standing there. 

"By God, Tad, it's good to see you," Blane said, extending a hand for the 
first time and giving Tad's fingers a firm squeeze. "Did you bring the 
little woman?" 

"The little woman isn't very little," Tad said, frowning. "She's pregnant 
and looks like a two-ton truck." 

"Tad Thaner -- husband and father," Blane commented. "Who would have 
guessed?" 

"Not me," Tad said. "But let's not ruin an evening by talking about Jocelyn 
and her fat belly. I thought I'd get away from all of that for at least one 
evening." 

"What brings you both to our fair city?" 

"You," Tad answered. "What else but thoughts of seeing you again could pull 
me into a neighborhood like this after the sun went down?" 

That from the doorway to the bedroom was a comparatively small step to take 
didn't surprise either of them. The cooling of their romance hadn't occurred 
because they had grown physically tired of each other. God, no. Actually, it 
had been because the two had a physical relationship that had been a bit too 
perfect, a bit too exquisite, a bit too passionate. They'd both, quite 
frankly, been frightened off by the very intensity of it. Neither had really 
been mature enough at the time to attempt making something lasting out of 
it. By mutual agreement, they had forced themselves to let things cool. Now 
that there were oceans and oceans of water under the bridge and each knew 
there was now remaining very little chance of something permanent springing 
up between them, the two were eager to get back into bed together. They 
actually wanted to see how sex now would compare to sex then, see if they'd 
been right in all the ecstasy they remembered, or if they'd been merely 
exaggerating to themselves all that had happened back in those good old 
days. 

Tad had brown hair, cut short but not military. He had large gray eyes that 
had lost but little of their twinkle. He had a Roman nose that wasn't so 
large as to dominate his face. Rather, it blended into the rest of his 
features the dimpled left cheek, the deeply clefted square chin, the 
sensuously wet lips to make a decidedly masculine composite. When Tad 
stripped off his clothes, he was heavier than Blane remembered, but the 
excess weight seemed to sit well on him, and there was still no way Tad, 
even these years later, could have been called fat. His firm physique had 
acquired, after four years of college gymnastics and swimming, a 
well-sculptured form that Tad had followed up later with much pampering at 
the club. His chest was well-muscled, absent of most body hair except for a 
few strands that haloed each nipple and a line of hair that ran along the 
cleavage of the domes and down to the belly button. There was a fanning of 
silky brown hair over his lower belly, a concentration of similar strands 
grouped about the base of his swollen cock. 

The state of Tad's cock, its turgid hardness, certainly gave the impression 
that his marriage had done little to turn him off to the prospects of gay 
sex. His cock, a thick and lengthy one, rose upward from bull-like balls, 
containing so much bulk it actually couldn't achieve a rise that made it 
parallel to Tad's belly. The cock, instead, jutted upward at a 
forty-five-degree angle. He had a thick anchorage amid the nesting of crotch 
hair, that thickness being maintained the total length of its shaft. The 
cock began its taper only after the flaring of the knob. The head of the 
cock was almost halved by a deep cum-slit that was glossed with leaking 
juices. The circumcision scar was a wide band of tissue encircling the neck 
of the cock just before the mushrooming of the tip. 

When the two kissed, their hard-nippled chests met, their stiff cocks 
aligning side-by-side between their mated bellies. Their lips were firm and 
warm, their tongues battling in spit-warm mouths. It was a good kiss, one 
that held up favorably in comparison to those which were past and 
well-remembered. 

In the bed, they moved easily to a sixty-nine position, each eager to renew 
an acquaintance with a familiar prick. Cocks seldom changed physically after 
reaching puberty, and neither man was disappointed in what he found nestled 
between the other's muscular thighs. 

Tad was on his back, his face looking upward at the dick Blane's splayed 
thighs were offering him. Down between his own legs was a cock that was even 
then being savored by Blane who looked down on it. 

Blane watched the movement of the flesh about Tad's nuts, and he got 
suddenly hungry for the fat prick that was ready and available for his 
licking. Diane bowed his face into Tad's nuts, licking over them and up to 
the broad belly of the cock whose back was now laid out on Tad's stomach. 

Beneath Blane's hairy belly, Tad reached a hand upward and began massaging 
Blane's balls. The sac and its nuts hung so low they almost pooled over 
Tad's face. However, as Tad's fingers continued to fondle the gonads, the 
bag that housed the balls began to contract noticeably, elevating upward 
toward the thick root of the erected rod. With his other hand, Tad reached 
upward for the cock, feeling its stiffness protesting as he yanked the head 
downward toward his mouth. The segment of Blane's lower belly into which the 
base of the cock was seemingly affixed became ballooned outward as Blane's 
cock was moved into the more convenient position for Tad's sucking. Tad had 
visions of the thick cock popping free from Blane's belly even if he knew it 
never would. 

By yanking down Blane's dick, Tad found that the knob almost touched his 
lips without his even having to lift his face up to claim it. The man 
reached for a pillow on the bed beside him and propped it beneath his head. 
Given the additional elevation, Tad was now able to open his mouth and take 
a good two inches of Blane's hard cock with little bother. Almost as soon as 
his lips closed around the pulpy knob, Blane's cock rewarded Tad with a 
gushing of tasty pre-cum. 

Blane in the meantime, hadn't left off servicing Tad's prick. Blane's tongue 
had licked slowly up the belly of the cock and had centered its lapping 
momentarily on the prickhead. He, too, was tasting pre-cum, the flavor of 
which made him only hunger for the richer, creamier cum that was nestled in 
Tad's fat balls. 

Blane placed his chin firmly into Tad's belly, pressing with difficulty into 
the solid scalloping of the muscle until his mouth was able to align with 
the drooling cum-slit. Blane kissed that deep hole, and then opened his 
mouth to completely swallow the whole knob. He scooted his chin forward, 
working his face deeper into Tad's groin, siphoning up more and more of his 
cock. 

Surprisingly enough, despite the years which had passed since he had sucked 
off Tad, Blane was finding that the stiff cock he was now taking was still 
somehow familiar to him. It seemed to fit easily into his mouth, as if he'd 
long ago adjusted to the entering bulk and hadn't forgotten. The head of the 
cock pushed directly into Blane's throat, and the man edged even closer to 
Tad's balls. 

Tad put both hands on Blane's hips, using his possum like hold for support 
as he lifted his face upward over Blane's down jutting dick. Tad's gumming 
lips pressed tightly into the neck of the cock, pushing the loose outer 
layer of flesh up toward Blane's lower belly. He continued to lift, gagging 
only slightly, and then silently, as the head of the cock clogged into his 
throat and slipped even deeper into the compressing dampness. 

Tad enjoyed the taste of Blane's cock on his tongue. As he'd remembered, it 
was an exciting piece of meat, and Tad enjoyed eating it. Jesus, how could 
he have been such an asshole as to let this escape him? This, after all, was 
what he really needed, what really turned him on. His wife certainly had 
never done anything for him, nor had that vacuous hole between her legs. How 
could Tad ever get sufficiently turned on to a pair of thighs parted only by 
a gash when he'd been so used to a sprouting of cock like this one he was 
now sucking? He'd been a tool to allow himself to be sucked into thinking he 
could play straight, adapt completely to the heterosexual world. Oh, he'd 
fucked Jocelyn, played at being a straight stud. He'd even gotten her 
pregnant, which had made Tad's father happy. But Tad still hungered for 
cock, and he could hate himself for tying himself down with first a wife and 
now a child. Christ, why couldn't life have been one big a fuck, suck, and 
screw as it had during those four years of college with Blane? Why had all 
of those good times ended? Or had they actually been as good as Tad now 
remembered them? 

Whether or not the passage of time had made the past seem far rosier than it 
had actually been, Tad did know for certain that there was one thing his 
memory hadn't exaggerated, and that was the lusciousness of Blane's cock. 
The thick prick, now almost lost up Tad's mouth, still held its old 
fascination, could still make Tad hot and horny just with the taste of it. 

Tad pulled his face that last fraction of an inch over Blane's rod, his nose 
pressing Blane's balls and his chin in the black crotch hair of his lover's 
lower belly, just as Blane's mouth had reached the bottom of Tad's cock, his 
nose into Tad's balls, his chin still pressing the muscles of Tad's belly. 

The two were in harmony. The two were one. They were once again united, 
cock-to-mouth and mouth-to-cock, as they had been so many times in the past. 
It was an exhilarating experience to remember old passions and experience 
their resurrections. 

Tad let his head begin its fall back down toward the bed. He let his lips 
drag halfway down the neck of Blane's cock, then pushed back up to the man's 
balls. He dropped again, this time a little farther than before, quickly 
reversing to gum toward the root of the cock. 

Blane worked his hands beneath Tad's ass, his fingers sliding into the 
crease formed by the two muscular buns. He probed for the pucker with his 
fingertips as his head simultaneously rode back up the wrist-sized shaft of 
Tad's dick. He located the opening of the ass when his face was once again 
plowing deep over the hard-on. He poked for entrance when his throat was 
clogged with all of Blane's cock. The bung protested the entrance of an 
unlubricated finger, but Blane persisted and was aided by a wiggling of 
Tad's butt that worked the asshole over the finger even as the finger was 
working up the asshole. 

Again Tad's face rode upward between Blane's thighs, his mouth even more 
anxious for cock now that his butt was plugged with Blane's finger. His eyes 
were open, watching his progress. Looking cross-eyed at the neck of the cock 
his mouth was claiming, Tad could hardly believe that the throbbing mass 
actually fit so securely in his throat. Tad sucked to verify to himself the 
easiness of the fit. His pursed lips reached the root of the cock, giving it 
another good gumming. His tongue whipped the spit-wetted dick, washing all 
of its buried inches with even more swirling saliva. His mouth was stretched 
so much that he doubted he could have gotten his jaws to yawn any wider than 
they already were. 

Tad's cock got only stiffer as Blane sucked back up the stem. Blane's mouth 
glided up to the pulpy knob, paused, dived, paused, slipped again up the 
thick shaft of the cock. He moved quickly into an easy bouncing cadence, 
timing his sucking to coincide with those of Tad's, the latter being slower 
because of his more awkward position. 

Blane sucked on the pulsating prick, his finger twisting up Tad's bung. With 
each suck, he was acutely aware of Tad's rubbery lips at work on his prong. 
Time certainly hadn't paled Blane's ability to enjoy with Tad, had it? 
They'd been good before, and they were good now. Blane tried consciously to 
keep relaxed, wanting the first sex of their reunion to last. At the same 
time, he found relaxation virtually impossible. Tad's swinging on his cock 
was making him go all mushy inside. That mushiness would soon convert to a 
tautening of muscles. Blane knew ecstasy would soon follow after that. 

Tad had the shaft of cock sucked right up to the fat balls, his tongue 
continuing to lash the bulky mass. He tasted more salt on his tongue, 
considered it only the hors d'oeuvre before the main course to follow. 

Both men were pros at giving head. In college, they had sucked off each 
other enough times alone to remove them from any amateur standings. As it 
happened, they'd both had enough experience even before college that their 
first sexual union with each other hadn't been that of two fumbling novices. 
After college, after they'd both gone their own ways, neither had remained 
celibate. Blane had temporarily resumed his affair with Greg Bravo and later 
with Greg's brother. Tad had gone on the prowl for a man even before the cum 
on his honeymoon sheets had gotten dry enough to flake. 

As the suck progressed, each man renewing his acquaintance with a cock he'd 
once known as well as his own, each was able to utilize more and more of his 
expertise to swell those pleasures already running rife through his 
partner's body. Tongues whipped cocks, lips gummed, cheeks massaged, throats 
vacuumed with skill. Each man teased the other closer and closer to climax, 
at the same time trying to judge how his own nearness to orgasm corresponded 
with the nearness of his companion. They both worked for a simultaneous 
eruption, confident they could pull it off. 

Blane dragged his taut ups over the cock, suctioning loose outer skin around 
the blood glutted inner core. Over and back, over and back, his hungry mouth 
masturbating the spit drenched dick. He corkscrewed his head over the cock, 
his finger twisting up Tad's asshole. 

"It was still good, wasn't it?" Tad said. It wasn't a question but a 
statement. Blane didn't answer. It had been good, and both men knew it. 

"Do you ever wonder how it would have been if we'd only tried a little 
harder?" Tad asked finally. "The two of us were really so scared about all 
of this, weren't we?" 

"No use mulling over what could have been, is there?" Blane asked. Yes, he'd 
thought of how it might have been, but things never worked out. Blane seemed 
to have fairly bad luck with the people he cared for. There'd been Greg who, 
despite his ability to give himself partially to Blane, was really too 
traumatized still by his early gang rape to ever form a permanent gay 
relationship with anyone. There'd been Tad who'd been too immature at one 
time and who was now married with the added complications of a child on the 
way. And Jamie? What of Jamie? The kid was so young, but he wasn't so young 
that he didn't know how to please another man in bed. Jamie was special to 
Blane, but Blane couldn't help looking on the kid more as his younger 
brother than a lover. That came from having been so close to Greg when Jamie 
was struggling through puberty and early adolescence. 

"So, shall I tell you what brings me here?" Tad asked, realizing Blane was 
right. You couldn't live in the past. Tad had made his bed and had to lie in 
it. That thought was somehow amusing, and Tad couldn't help smiling to 
himself because of it. 

"I already asked, and you told me you'd come just to see [missing text]." 

"That's true," Tad admitted. "But there's a bit more to it." 

Blane stretched on the bed until his spine popped as a result. 

"Actually something fell into my lap the other day, and I immediately 
thought about you. How you used to tell me every night how great it was to 
be out of this environment, even if it was only for a few years. I 
remembered how you'd trotted back here to try and save a few souls. Have 
you?" 

"Saved any souls?" Blane laughed. "I'm afraid my days of such illusion have 
long gone." It was easier to admit that now than it would have been a few 
years ago when he'd been fresh with enthusiasm for his project to rescue the 
kids of the slums. 

"Well, you're about to make your contribution to at least a few young studs' 
salvation's," Tad said. "You got a few poor, deprived kids around here that 
you think deserve getting out, maybe for college and the whole bit?" 

"You're serious?" 

"I can't guarantee they'll stay away from the old neighborhood," Tad said. 
"After all, you came back, didn't you?" 

"Let's forget about me for a while. What did you have in mind?" 

"I thought maybe I'd like to get fucked for quick beginners." 

"That wasn't exactly what I meant." 

Tad smiled, thinking how strange things worked out. He'd been thinking of 
Blane about the time this assignment had been dumped into his lap. How much 
easier knowing Blane was going to make all of it. What did Tad know about 
the poor, neglected riffraff that hung around the streets just waiting to 
mug little old ladies? The closest Tad had ever gotten to this kind of 
environment was going to bed with Blane Tanners. 

"I know that wasn't exactly what you meant," Tad said, turning to his belly, 
"but I've decided, on second thought, that there'll be plenty of time for us 
to talk over that aspect of my visit a little later. Right now, I'd actually 
rather have a fuck. You haven't last any of that well-remembered virility in 
your old age, have you?" 

"Fat chance of that," Blane said, rolling to cover Tad's prone body, his 
cock had already regaining the hardness it had lost after blasting up Tad's 
mouth. 

CHAPTER FIVE 

Tyler slowed the car, passed the young hitchhiker and then pulled over along 
the side of the road in front of him. The kid ran to close the distance. 
Tyler pushed the button to lower the automatic window on the passenger side. 
He waited until the kid's face appeared in it. The youth was blond. Jeff was 
blond. 

"Need a lift?" 

"Thanks," Jamie said, opening the door and getting in. "Nice care you got 
here. Foreign?" 

"Italian," Tyler answered, moving the auto back onto the highway. The road 
was devoid of traffic and had seemed that way for the past hundred miles of 
driving. "How far are you going?" 

"Estling. Know where that's at?" 

The name sounded vaguely familiar, but Tyler couldn't place it. 

"Is it on this highway?" Tyler asked, adjusting the rear-view mirror so that 
it wasn't focused on the road behind but on the kid in the seat beside him. 
He tried to guess the kid's age. He found it was difficult to pinpoint any 
satisfactory estimate. The boy looked very young, but there was an air about 
him of a maturity that went beyond mere physical appearances. 

"There's a turn-off in Petersborough," Jamie answered. "Think you'll be 
goin' that far?" 

"I'm heading all the way to the coast," Tyler said. "If Petersborough is on 
the way, sure I can drop you off there." 

"That'd be great, man," Jamie said, settling back into the plush bucket 
seat. There was a smell of leather in the car. The aroma was heavy and 
slightly aphrodisiacal. Jamie felt enveloped by the luxury. This was the way 
to go. It sure as hell beat riding in a train with a bunch of turkeys. 
Although, Blane was likely worried and furious upon discovering Jamie's 
disappearance. 

"You wouldn't be a runaway, would you?" Tyler asked, making it sound like 
the joke it was. He was curious, however, as to what the kid was doing out 
here in the middle of nowhere. 

"Me?" Jamie laughed. "I really look like one?" 

"So what's a clean-cut kid like you doing thumbing out here in the 
boondocks?" 

"Must be the haircut an' new clothes," Jamie said. Beneath him, all around 
him, there was the purr, of the expensive auto. It was an almost sexual 
experience to be sitting here with this attractive stranger in the private 
little world made by the Italian car. "If you'da seen me a coupla days ago, 
you prob'ly wouldn'ta stopped the car." 

"I doubt that," Tyler said, turning from the mirror to get a good look at 
his companion. Again, he found himself thinking of Jeff. He'd been torn in 
two directions when he'd gotten word from his father that he was to leave 
the logging crew and report home. He'd been sorry to go but happy to get 
away just the same. He wouldn't have missed his experiences with Jeff for 
anything, but at the same time it had been a huge responsibility bringing a 
young boy out. And Jeff had been a novice, even if he had come on like 
gangbusters during their first encounter. Tyler didn't know how bias other 
people could be in initiating a neophyte into the mysteries of gay sex, but 
be couldn't be. He'd felt very protective toward the young boy who was the 
age of his own son. Simultaneously, he had realized that he had no right to 
be possessive toward him. In a way, it was probably better for both of them 
that it was forced to an ending this way. Jeff would soon discover that, no 
matter what he might presently think, Tyler wasn't the ultimate last word in 
sex partners. It wouldn't take Jeff too long to discover that, either. Jeff 
was an attractive, sensuous young man, and Tyler had left him with enough 
experience to cope with anything in bed. Tyler just wouldn't be there to see 
it, and that realization had somehow released a heavy burden from the man's 
shoulders. 

"Oh, I guess I didn't look all that crappy," Jamie said, deciding he didn't 
want to give the impression he was a burn in disguise. After all, despite 
the fact tat the money hadn't been abundant enough to throw away, Greg had 
always seen that his younger brother had clean clothes and cash for a 
haircut. Compared to some of the other people in the neighborhood, the 
Bravos were sitting pretty. "I had to get spiffed up more'n usual so some 
rich guy wouldn't stick his nose too far up in the air when he met me." 

"That all sounds a bit complicated. Is it?" Tyler asked, putting his foot on 
the accelerator. He could tell the effect the car had on the boy. There was 
certainly something to be said for that old adage that some men enjoyed cars 
more than they did women. 

"Some rich guy's holdin' an athletic competition for some of us poor kids. 
The winners're s'posed to come away with college scholarships. I figure 
there's gotta be a gimmick somewhere. No one gives somethin' for nothin'." 

"This guy can't be too rich if he's making all of his competitors walk," 
Tyler commented, his foot growing heavier on the gas. He could see the way 
the young blond's body was being pressed back into the sensuous grip of all 
the expensive upholstery. The kid liked the speed, the faint vibrations of 
the motor, the smell of the leather. His face was noticeably flushed. 

"Oh, we had train tickets, but I rode far as Hilltown and then cashed in my 
ticket. Figured I could make it the rest of the way by foot an' keep the 
extra for spendin' cash." 

"Hope that doesn't get you off to a bad start with your rich benefactor," 
Tyler said, his eyes partially on the road and partially on the speedometer. 

"I don't give a shit what the guy thinks," Jamie said. "It wasn't my idea to 
come to this thing anyway. I don't plan on comin' away with nothin' but the 
couple dollars I ripped off those rail tickets." 

"You don't mind my driving a little fast, do you?" Tyler asked, knowing the 
answer to that question before he had even asked it. 

"Nab," Jamie said quickly, and then added after a short pause: "I kinda like 
it." 

"So, what kind of an athletic jock are you?" Tyler asked. 

"I do pretty good at swimmin'," Jamie said, his eyes fascinated by the way 
the trees were whipping by outside the car's window. It was weird, but he 
had no real sense of speed. He was lulled by the persistent low humming of 
the motor, by the softness of the seat, by the hypnotic pounding of his 
heart against his ribcage. "I'm pretty good on the track, too. Got some good 
trainin' from Blane Tanners. Ever hear of him?" 

"Afraid not. Is he good?" 

"He useta be real good," Jamie said, actually proud of Blane's past exploits 
on the track field. "Broke a lot of college records, an' a couple still 
stand." 

"It's because of him that you're on your way to Estling?" 

"Him an' my brother are tight. They're lookin' to get me outta the city. 
They're sure I'm gonna end up a typical juvenile delinquent." 

"And you? What do you think?" 

"Who knows?" Jamie shrugged. "Maybe they're right. Maybe I will." 

"So maybe you'll win one of those scholarships and eventually head for 
college." 

"Shit, Blane had four years of college," Jamie said. "That didn't keep him 
from comin' back to the old neighborhood. He's back there now, runnin' a 
crummy recreation center an' tryin' to save all our souls." 

"I take it you don't approve?" Tyler asked. He saw an upcoming curve that 
seemed a little too sharp to take at the speed they were traveling. It was 
strange how tempting it was to try and make it anyway, but Tyler's better 
judgment got the best of him, as it always did. He eased off the pressure of 
his foot on the gas pedal, letting the car coast into the curve. 

"He was an asshole to come back," Jamie said, bank on the subject of Blane. 

"You're awfully young to be such a cynic," Tyler said. 

"Cynic? That the big word for it?" 

"No matter what the word, you're too young to be one." 

"You grow up fast where I live," Jamie said. The car had slowed to a normal 
speed, but the adrenaline of the fast ride was still active in the boy's 
veins. The feeling was as good as speed -- the drug variety. "You didn't 
grow up knowin' too many hard times, did ya?" 

"We were very poor," Tyler lied. "I vowed early that I'd get out and, make 
something out of myself." 

"Sure, man," Jeff said facetiously, not for a minute being pulled in by 
Tyler's line of hogwash. 

"You don't sound too convinced." 

"No one gets outta the slums," Jamie said. "I don't believe none of those 
phony success stories. I don't know one guy from my neighborhood who ever 
made it anywhere for long. Shit, you're so useta it, you feel funny walkin' 
down a street where there ain't a chance of gettin' mugged." 

"Why is it you don't look anything like a juvenile delinquent, I wonder?" 
Tyler asked. "I somehow can't picture you as ever looking too seedy even 
with longer hair and dirtier clothes." 

"Man, you don't know the half of it," Jamie said, feeling somehow slighted 
that Tyler didn't see him as a delinquent. He didn't really know why that 
derogatory label seemed suddenly so attractive to him, but it did. "Kids in 
the streets learn a shitload of things early." 

"Like what?" Tyler persisted, amused in that he sensed he had somehow 
disappointed the kid in not seeing him as one of the typical slum rats one 
usually pictured as inhabiting the streets of the ghetto. 

"Like sex," Jamie said, picking a subject which he thought would have the 
biggest shock value. He also picked it, because he'd gotten a hard-on while 
the car was at high speeds, and his cock was still solid within his pants. 
He'd momentarily thought of mentioning the fact that he had been involved in 
a robbery, but didn't really want the guy to get upset and dump him by the 
side of the road for fear of getting stuck up and robbed. 

"You mean your balls have actually dropped?" Tyler asked, deciding to 
exchange verbal shock for verbal shock. The kid's affected macho was faintly 
amusing. 

"Dropped a long time ago," Jamie answered. 

Tyler gave an obvious glance at the bulge of Jamie's crotch and then caught 
Jamie's eye before turning his attention back to the highway. 

"Yes, I would say they had indeed dropped," Tyler commented, unable to keep 
the smile off his lips. 

Jamie wondered if he was embarrassed at Tyler's blatant stare and decided he 
couldn't be. Jamie didn't remember ever having been embarrassed by anything. 
Now, he decided he was just a bit surprised. Tyler's stare had been 
startlingly obvious and something Jamie hadn't been expecting under the 
circumstances. Jamie had always believed that Tyler's action was indicative 
only of the lower class. The evident expense of the car, the apparent 
affluence of the driver, had somehow eliminated initially all passable 
sexual aspects from this particular encounter. Even though Blane had told 
Jamie that the morals of the rich were even lower than the scum in any 
slum's gutters, even though there was always talk of finding a rich sugar 
daddy to take someone out of the back streets and set him up in an apartment 
across town, Jamie had actually had very little experience with people 
beyond those within his own immediate neighborhood. Jamie, for the first 
time in his life, actually began to feel uncomfortable and definitely out of 
his element. 

"I hope I didn't embarrass you," Tyler said, his smile widening despite 
himself. After all, it had been Jamie who had brought up the subject of sex 
to begin with. "The car still affects me that way, too, sometimes." 

"Affects you what way?" Jamie asked, sorry he had asked almost as soon as 
the question was out of his mouth. He wondered if Tyler would give him a 
straight-forward answer. 

"Gives me a hard-on," Tyler said. 

Jamie didn't answer. He settled deeper into the soft leather of the seat. He 
didn't answer, because he frankly didn't know what to answer. Maybe all of 
this was just harmless chit-chat. Maybe this was how everyone talked who 
drove Italian sports cars. Maybe there were no inherent innuendoes. Jamie 
was suddenly afraid he was going to make a fool out of himself, and he 
didn't want that. He was enjoying the pleasure of riding in such comfort. He 
was even enjoying his companion's company. He had frankly found himself on 
the verge of panicking out on that deserted road. It had all been so 
strange, what with all those frees and not a building in sight. Jamie had 
been born and raised in the city atmosphere. He really wasn't used to places 
without wall-to-wall concrete. Tyler, with his car, had arrived in the nick 
of time. 

"Don't worry," Tyler said, noticing the uneasiness that had taken over since 
the youth had shifted the conversation to the subject of sex. "You have 
nothing to worry about from me. I'm a perfectly harmless man with a son 
who's probably about your age." 

About your age. It had been basically what he had said to Jeff that first 
day out in the woods. The phrase hadn't stopped him then. Would it stop him 
now? Tyler gave another quick glance in Jamie's direction, trying to read 
something in the boy's face. Tyler then began chastising himself and turned 
his attention back to the road. A car passed them, coming from the opposite 
direction. It was the first car Tyler had seen in over an hour of driving. 

Tyler knew what he was thinking, and he was frankly disgusted by his 
thoughts. He'd just been congratulating himself but seconds before on how 
lucky he'd been to sever his sexual ties with Jeff, and already he was 
thinking of sex with this young kid who, on closer examination, might prove 
to be just as young as Jeff had been. Tyler should have never given in to 
Jeff that day in the woods. Once he'd overcome his intuitive taboo about 
tricking with mere youngsters, he'd broken down his defenses for time and 
eternity. What was he now? A man destined to seek out youth and innocence? 
Still, what kind of innocence could this kid have, despite his evident 
youth? The boy had admitted himself that he'd had sexual initiation early, 
and a kid didn't hitchhike too long on any road, going anywhere, without 
learning the facts of life damned fast. That would have especially been the 
case with someone as good-looking and evidently well-hung as this young 
stud. 

"My name is Tyler, by the way," Tyler said finally. "I don't think we ever 
got around to official introductions, did we?" 

"Mine's Jamie." 

Jamie -- Christ, the kid's name even started with the same first initial. 
Jeff. Jamie. Was Tyler falling into some kind of perverted groove? 

The two rode awhile without saying anything. Jamie began to feel more 
uncomfortable in the silence, sorry that he'd allowed himself to get carried 
away. What had he been trying to pull by talking about how it was back there 
in the city? 

Tyler undoubtedly wasn't interested. And what had he been doing by bringing 
up sex with a complete stranger? Still, after a few minutes to think back, 
Tyler hadn't been at all shocked or put off by Jamie's introduction of sex 
into the conversation. In fact, Tyler had been quite fast in pursuing the 
subject. 

Jamie stole a quick glance at the space between Tyler's opened thighs, 
thinking he could actually discern a boner jutting downward along the left 
thigh. But then, hadn't Tyler already made the harmless comment that the car 
often had a sexual effect on him, also? 

Tyler's cock was hard all right, but it wasn't the car's fault by any means. 
The man had found himself going back over the things he'd done to and with 
Jeff over the past three weeks. It wasn't so much those thoughts which had 
made Tyler's cock spring into a hard-on. What had actually been the prime 
stimulus had been the man's spontaneous substitution of Jamie's face and 
body into the place of Jeff in much of his present fantasizing. 

"You don't look old enough to have a son my age," Jamie said, thinking 
suddenly of how old his own father had been when he'd died. 

"I married young," Tyler said, glad Jamie had at least decided to again come 
to life. 

"Where's he now? Your son, I mean. Home?" 

"God, you might think it's horrible, but I don't even know. The last I 
heard, he and his mother were in Los Angeles or Las Vegas." 

"You divorced?" Jamie asked. He'd known a lot of kids who had come from 
broken homes. He always felt sorry for them. His mother and father had 
always been on the best of terms. 

"Yes, we're divorced," Tyler said, trying to remember what his wife looked 
like now, what his son had looked like the last time he'd seen him. He 
couldn't clearly remember either. 

"I'm sorry," Jamie said. 

"Don't be," Tyler answered, momentarily lost in his own thoughts. "She did 
absolutely nothing for me after a while -- in bed or otherwise." 

"But you had a son," Jamie reminded. What could be butcher than fucking a 
woman and getting your own son? And yet, Blane's friend, that Mr. Thaner, 
he'd had a wife, and Jamie had had the feeling that he and Blane had still 
been making it together in the bedroom. 

"I was playing a game," Tyler said. "Life is full of little games, and 
doesn't it sometimes get damned tiresome playing them? Wouldn't it be nice 
if two people could meet, like each other, and have sex without going trough 
the fucking rigmarole of game-playing?" 

"Yeah," Jamie answered. 

Tyler suddenly pulled the car to the side of the road and stopped it amid 
the sounds of burning rubber and flying gravel. 

"Do you actually believe that it's even possible to meet any person and not 
go through the game-playing?" 

"Sure," Jamie answered. And what was Tyler really asking him? Could the two 
of them have sex, just like that, just because they both found each other 
physically attractive, just because they both had hard-ons? Did Tyler find 
Jamie attractive? Jamie was realizing quickly that he was sexually attracted 
to Tyler. Tyler had the older butch looks that Jamie had always found 
appealing in another man. That Tyler's masculinity could still hold up in 
such expensive surroundings was an excellent proof of the man's aura of 
maleness. 

"Would you like to drive the car?" Tyler asked. 

"Me?" Jamie replied automatically. Oh, he'd driven a car once or twice, 
usually after he and a couple of other kids had swiped one and gone 
joy-riding for a few blocks before dumping it, but he'd never been behind 
the wheel of a machine like this one. The very thought of having all that 
horsepower at his command was slightly heady. His throat went tight, his 
hands went sweaty. More adrenaline ejected into the boy's system, and he 
felt giddy. 

"I want to go fast," Tyler said, "Real fast. I want to go on a ride with 
you. Just you, and me, and this high-powered baby. Down the road. I want to 
experience now. Are you game?" 

Tyler didn't wait for an answer. Leaving the motor idling, he opened the 
door and got out, walking to the passenger side. Jamie opened his door and 
came out to meet the man. They stood facing each other, each ones eyes 
dilated with anticipation of what was to come. Tyler knew he'd always been a 
bit afraid behind the wheel of this car, and that was why it had never gone 
as high as it could. Even a couple of minutes before, the auto had been 
nowhere near its peak speed. Tyler sensed Jamie would take them faster if 
just to prove that he had the guts Tyler was apparently attributing to him. 

Tyler took Jamie's right hand, pulling it quickly to the hardness at his 
crotch. 

"Take me fast!" Tyler said. "So fast that this hunk of meat here in my pants 
can cream from the excitement. Do you think you can trip me out that far?" 

"I can fuckin' try," Jamie said, excited by the feel of the ridge of hard 
cock flesh beneath the bulge of Tyler's trousers. 

"Do more than try," Tyler said. "Do it!" 

He dropped Jamie's hand from his grain and pushed past him into the auto. 
Shutting the door behind him, Tyler affixed the seat and shoulder belts to 
secure his body. 

Jamie went around to the driver's side and got in. 

It would be a ride both of them would never forget, while, at the same time, 
it would be a ride that neither of them actually could remember. It would 
come back to them later in life as one of their most thrilling and exciting 
moments. It would be a blurring recollection of fear, gut-knotting fear that 
could paralyze the belly with sickening nausea. But there was also a 
recalling of a simultaneous ecstasy that was somehow actually sexual. 

They'd begun slowly, amid a grinding of gears as Tyler talked Jamie through 
the controls. Then the car had begun to gain speed, and Tyler had felt the 
force of their movement pushing him back into the soft glove leather of his 
seat. The trees outside had become a misting of green. The divider dashes in 
the center of the highway merged into one pulsing trail of white. Somewhere 
in his mind, Tyler could recall hearing the buzzer that he'd been told would 
sound when the car was nearing its peak velocity -- a buzzer he hadn't heard 
until then and would never hear again afterwards. 

The road had dropped several times into little dips, and the car had 
actually become airborne. The roller-coaster effect brought Tyler's belly up 
to his throat and left it there. The highway sloped upward into a small 
hill. The car was going so fast the grade didn't even slow it down. 

It had been ecstasy! And then, there on the crest of the hill, the ecstasy 
had mingled with the fear, and the fear had emerged the dominant. Tyler 
actually knew the noise in his ears was his own resounding scream of panic. 

A car had been illegally passing on the upgrade. As Tyler's car crested the 
hill, it was destined to encounter both highway lanes full of moving metal. 
Jamie, suspecting there was nothing to be done, didn't even take his foot 
off the gas. He would later try to remember if he hadn't actually shut his 
eyes. 

What happened to save them? It was one of those things which was somehow 
unexplainable unless one merely accepted the fact that some high entity had 
apparently decided it just wasn't these two mortals' time to go. Tyler would 
say he thought the passing car had managed to pull back into its proper 
lane. Jamie would say that both cars had opened to either side of the road 
while he went through the center. 

Suddenly, the car was just rushing full speed down a deserted highway. 
Jamie, his heart in his throat, put his foot on the brake. There was a 
squeal of tires and the stench of burning rubber as the car slowed slightly. 

There was a dirt road that forked off from the main one. Jamie aimed the car 
for it, feeling the resulting jolt as the auto left the asphalt and hit the 
dirt. The road was narrow, seemed to be closing in on each side of them. 
There was a fence across the road, seemingly running to meet them. 

Jamie's foot went down on the brake hard. The car shuddered, skidded, turned 
like a top in the roadway and came to a jolting stop. Before Jamie knew what 
he was doing, he was out of the car and running. There was dust everywhere, 
billows of it that rose all around him, cutting off everything. He smelled 
it, tasted it, became lost in it. 

The boy stopped. He was panting, breathing hard. He felt like he was going 
to puke. He dry heaved, realizing somewhere in his mind that he still had 
his hard-on. He thought that was somehow a bit sick. 

Jamie felt the strong pressure on his shoulder as he was turned abruptly. He 
saw Tyler in front of him, the man's eyes wild and dilated. 

"You could have killed us!" Tyler screamed, his hand coming out to strike 
Jamie hard along the side of his face. There was a resounding noise as flesh 
collided against flesh. 

Strangely, Jamie felt no pain. After the blow, he just stood there waiting, 
anticipating something. What, he didn't know, but he knew it would happen. 
He could feel the premonition in his guts, in his whole adrenaline-hyped 
body. 

Tyler reached out both hands and took hold of Jamie's shirt. He pulled, 
ripping the material and popping the buttons. He stood, staring at the young 
blond's naked chest and belly, at the dust and the dirt that was streaking 
the boy's handsome face and platinum-blond hair. 

"Oh, Christ!" Tyler mumbled, his voice coming out weak and childish. 

And within seconds, the two were in each other's arms, collapsing in a 
rolling heap of tangled arms and legs to the ground. They kissed, tasting 
the earth on their tongues. The world around them was viewed through a fog 
of minute particles hanging in the air about them. 

Then they were naked, their clothes somehow stripped free. Buttons had been 
ripped from material, cloth ripped in their hurry to undress. Their bare 
flesh soiled with the dust they continued to roll in, their cocks becoming 
muddy with a mess of dirt and natural lubricant that had leaked from the 
cocks in great gushings during the preceding minutes. 

Tyler was hot. He'd been high on amyl once and had felt something like he 
did now. His heart was loud in his chest, his cock was hard and throbbing, 
and he had a need for release battling within him. He grunted like an animal 
as he felt his cock push into a clutching of warm spasming flesh. He vaguely 
realized that Jamie was on his belly beneath him, Tyler's cock rammed deeply 
up the boy's tight young ass. How it got there, Tyler didn't know. But it 
was there, and Tyler somehow needed it there, knowing intuitively that what 
his cock found up that ass was the only thing that was going to save him 
from his madness. 

Jamie fought for a breath of air amid the dirt that clogged his lungs. There 
was a fire up his ass, and he'd squealed like a stuck pig with the lightning 
of it. His body was beset by so many concurrent sensations that he could 
separate none of them. His mind refused to focus. Jamie somehow imagined he 
might still be in the car, still speeding with it down the road. So, what 
was the cause of the pain in his butt, the pressing that was squashing him 
into the earth-smelling hardness beneath his belly? 

Jamie was being fucked. Tyler was on top of him, the man's huge dong, 
lubricated with mud and pre-cum, was frantically pumping Jamie's asshole. 
The boy's chest and stomach were working into the ground, his cock, having 
already leaked copious droolings of pre-cum, burrowing in the warm mud of 
its own making. 

There was pain. There was pleasure. There was an intermingling of the two. 
Both the man and the boy fought to return to reality, each succeeding in 
varying degrees of non-success. 

"Rape me!" Jamie squealed, knowing for certain that it was cock up his butt, 
but not knowing whose cock: Greg's? Blane's? The man's in the car? 

And where was the car? Jamie's cheek pressed into the ground. He could 
actually believe he saw the car, sitting askew in the roadway a few yards 
from him. So, he wasn't in the car then. He was on the ground. He was 
getting screwed. Tyler, that butch, studly bastard, had jumped on to ride 
him. The world was topsy-turvy, but Jamie didn't care. The pain and the fear 
were both fading, becoming lost amid the one overpowering sensation that was 
moving to dominate all other feelings within the boy's young body. 

Tyler's cock jammed balls deep once more up Jamie's ravaged butt, the man 
grinding his belly into the boy's asscheeks, revolving his hips so that his 
cock twisted up the tight asshole. His hips rose and fell, rose and fell. He 
fucked frantically, aware that his pleasure was building, but still a long 
way from actual orgasm. 

Tyler's cock coasted deep up the butt, gliding over the prostate and into 
the depths beyond it. The knob of his cock pulled after it inch upon inch of 
hard meat. The crotch hair crowding the base of Tyler's cock was pressing 
indents into the firm flesh of Jamie's buns. Tyler yanked his hips upward, 
feeling the luxurious exit of his cock, the incessant gumming of the boy's 
asshole as it slipped into the groove made by the flaring of his spongy 
knob. 

It was hot, hot because they were screwing full in the sun, the rays 
managing to get through even the shroud of settling dust, and, also, they 
were hot because of the heat burning within them. Their bodies turned wet 
with sweat. Perspiration oozed from passion-dilated pores and mingled with 
the dirt. They became streaked with the mud like savage barbarians rutting 
in the dawning of time. 

Jamie's hands clutched for handfuls of dirt, compressing them to 
finger-etched balls of earth within his gripping. His ass continued to be 
battered by Tyler's frenzied humping. The boy groaned, letting the 
experience of the moment take hold of him, surrendering to it. He couldn't 
remember ever feeling as he was feeling now. He was still hyped from the 
incident with the car. He was on a natural high. His prick was hard, and his 
ass was full of hard cock. Janije had temporarily exited the world he knew, 
had been thrust into a world that was completely new to him -- a world the 
boy somehow doubted he would be lucky ever to have a passage into again. 

Tyler fucked, aware as he'd been from the beginning that some outside force 
seemed to have control of his body. His hips humped Jamie's prone body with 
a will all their own. It was all Tyler could do to survive the twisting 
spirals that were tying sensuous knots in his guts. He wanted it all to end, 
simultaneously hoping it would continued to go on forever. 

Tyler's muscled chest heaved with his need for more oxygen. The sweat which 
had formed on his forehead began dripping through the mud to sting his eyes. 
There was a dull aching in the depths of his belly and a tightness that 
constricted his chest and throat. Muscles throughout the man's body twitched 
uncontrollably. He wondered if he'd gone suddenly spastic, commenced a 
seizure while buried up this young butt. 

Tyler continued to fuck, his body aching with the strain of enduring the 
ride to eruption. The ecstasy always managed to keep one step ahead of the 
actual discomfort. It was a force to drive Tyler ever onward with the hope 
of someday achieving that ultimate, shattering fulfillment he desired. 

Tyler shut his eyes, wondering who or what had control of him, who or what 
was dictating the frantic fucking cadence of his hips, who or what had given 
him the energy to continue. He progressed with his ride of Jamie's ass, his 
scrotum long ago contacted to a degree which had yanked his cum-bulged balls 
flush to the base of his pumping cock. 

Tyler heard the wheezing of his own gasps for air as his pelvis pounded his 
cock up the ass in a seemingly higher gear than ever before. He pushed and 
pulled his cock in a violent series of thrusts and withdrawals in and out of 
the clutching butt. The spasming vise of Jamie's asshole masturbated the 
cock that kicked it. The walls of the bung gripped, clutched, chewed on the 
cock that slipped back and forth inside it. 

Jamie's body was bruised from the attack. His chest and belly were scratched 
by the pebbles that speckled the ground beneath him. His buttcheeks had gone 
black and blue with the pounding. Again and again, Jamie experienced the 
plugging and the emptying of his asshole. The boy was numbed by the 
combination of pain and pleasure. He wondered if there would ever be an end 
to it, wandered if he actually wanted there to be an end to it. 

"Please!" Jamie begged. Was it a plea to continue the kick or to bring 
everything hurriedly to its cataclysmic conclusion? 

"Yes!" Tyler bellowed in reply. Yes, what, he didn't really know. It wasn't 
up to him to say what happened. It had been taken out of his hands from the 
beginning by those primeval forces that could stay forever dormant in some 
men. Tyler was no longer a modem man. He was an animal. Jamie was an animal. 
They were screwing for one purpose and one purpose only -- the satisfaction 
of their powerful, driving list for fulfillment. 

It all ended in an explosion of the senses, a rupturing of nerve ends. As if 
struck by lightning, Tyler's body went stiff, shook as with palsy. He tried 
to grunt, but nothing would come out. For a brief minute, he began to doubt 
that even his cum was going to spurt free. The deluge of jizz seemed somehow 
dammed, unable to exit. But then, suddenly, overpoweringly, it came -- 
gallons and gallons of the opaque mess spilling out of Tyler's cock and into 
Jamie's twitching ass. Like the beast Tyler thought he was, he sank his 
teeth deep into Jamie's neck, tasting the saltiness of the young boy's blood 
which his biting brought to the surface. 

Tyler's teeth clamped tightly into his shoulder, Tyler's cock lost and 
exploding deep up in his ass, Jamie found his own release. Even as Tyler was 
spasming his climax atop Jamie, the boy's nuts blew their wad. The resulting 
pleasure was so great that the boy screamed. He thrust his butt upward hard 
into Tyler's groin. He screamed again, flopping uncontrollably like a fish 
out of water. His whole being was engulfed in the pleasure of the moment. 
For a brief instant, Jamie actually thought he had died. 

CHAPTER SIX 

One last time, Tyler almost asked Jamie how he could get hold of him in 
Estling. Once again, Tyler found himself hesitating, realizing it would 
probably be better to cut this relationship off here just as he'd severed 
his relationship with Jeff. The one had lasted three weeks, this one for 
only a day and a night, but, surprisingly enough, it was this second one 
which Tyler considered the more dangerous. All Tyler's sex with Jamie, 
commencing with the weird and unsettling mating in the dust of that deserted 
road, and ending with the blow job Jamie had given him just before their 
arrival in Petersborough, had been more intense than any sex Tyler could 
remember. Tyler had decided Jeff and Jamie were about the same age, but 
there was no way Jamie was the novice Jeff had been. When Jamie had said he 
had learned a lot about sex in the area where he'd grown up, he hadn't been 
just whistling Dixie. 

Jamie had lingered by the opened car window after Tyler had dropped him off, 
as if expecting Tyler to ask about another time and place to get together. 
After all, people didn't have wild sex like they had had very often. You'd 
think someone would be anxious for another session of the same however, 
Tyler hadn't said anything. Jamie thought he knew the inner struggle Tyler 
was waging with himself. Jamie had gotten the distinct impression that Tyler 
was disturbed about their age difference. As far as Jamie was concerned, 
such a hang-up was ridiculous, but try telling that to a man who couldn't 
help thinking of his own son every time he fucked another eighteen-year-old. 

Jamie had commented that he hoped they'd meet again, and when Tyler hadn't 
take up on that obvious cue but had only answered that he hoped so, too, 
Jamie had made himself accept the fact that this was indeed the end. He 
waved a final good-bye and headed off down the road. 

No matter how big the kink Blane would have in his ass because Jamie had cut 
out by himself for a few hours, Jamie was glad he'd started hitchhiking. He 
watched the car disappear, and the boy turned to follow the arrow sign 
designating Estling at twenty-four miles distance. He began to figure out 
how he would explain to Blane about another set of new clothes. He certainly 
couldn't tell him the truth -- that his shirt had been ripped to shreds by 
an ardent admirer, that he had checked into a motel to take a shower and 
indulge in an all-night sex orgy. Blane wouldn't have understood any of it. 

After Jamie had been lost to the rear-view mirror, Tyler had felt suddenly 
depressed. He began immediately to wish he hadn't been such an asshole. He 
would have liked to have seen Jamie again. Why had the kid been so fucking 
young? 

Tyler drove as far as Grafston and stopped to eat, then called in at the 
office. 

As it turned out, W.J. wasn't in when Tyler called. W.J. was out of town on 
business. However, he had left word that his son was to contact Tad Thaner 
immediately. There was a number Tad could be reached at. 

Tyler hung up and was dialing the new number when he noticed the area code 
corresponded to the one on the telephone he was using. He was still 
pondering that when the operator came on the line and the phone suddenly 
began ringing at the other end. 

"Emerald Lake Lodge." 

That rang a bell. The lodge had been sifting on a tract of land Franklander 
Lumber had purchased about five years before. They'd only wanted the timber 
on the adjoining acreage, and the lodge had been part of the sale. 
Unfortunately for Franklander Lumber, the ecologists began raising all holy 
hell before the ink on the sale had even gone dry. The land happened to have 
a grove of redwood trees that had been around since before Columbus. That 
hadn't been any real news to W.J. Franklander. It was that grove of frees, 
among others, which had made the purchase of the land so damned attractive. 
He had planned to cut everything down and convert it all into so many board 
feet of finished lumber. However, before W.J. could get his men and 
machinery in, the people of Estling and the surrounding area had come out in 
full force to stop the sacrilege. 

Estling -- that was where Tyler had heard that town's name before. Tyler had 
thought when Jamie had dropped the name on him that it had sounded familiar. 
Now it clicked. Five years after Franklander Lumber had bought the land 
around the Emerald Lake Lodge, they still hadn't gotten the lumber they'd 
wanted. It was all tied up in the courts with a maze of suits and 
counter-suits. 

Tyler asked the person who answered to get him Tad Thaner, and he listened 
now as movement on the other end told him somebody had again picked up the 
receiver. 

"Tyler?" came the familiar voice. Tad Thaner and Tyler were old friends, 
actually a bit more than friends. They'd had their little flings, beginning 
shortly after Franklander Lumber had bought out the company run by Tad's 
father. It had been one of the provisions of the sale that Tad came with the 
company, and it had turned out to be one of the better things which had 
happened to Franklander Lumber. Tad was young, but he was good. He'd moved 
up in the company since he'd joined it. He would go further, too, and, 
what's more, Tyler was glad for him. He liked Tad, liked him very much. 

"What brings you to the Emerald Lake Lodge?" Tyler asked. 

"The same thing that's going to bring you here," Tad answered. "It's a new 
project of your father's." 

"Oh, Jesus, what now?" 

"Why don't I tell you when you get here?" 

He drove fast back to Petersborough, trying to rationalize his hurry as he 
sped along. He tried to tell himself that he was anxious to hear what new 
brainchild his old man had cooked up, but he also knew there was another 
reason for his speed. He had hopes of finding Jamie. How surprised the kid 
would be to see Tyler again. How glad Tyler would be to see him. Christ, why 
hadn't he asked how he could find him? Chances were, Tyler would end up 
stuck cut at the lodge and Jamie would be somewhere in Estling. The two 
might never get together. 

Tyler turned into the lodge's driveway, realizing he didn't even know 
Jamie's last name. How was he going to make even discreet inquiries without 
raising a few eyebrows? He was going to have to think of some way. 

There was a bustle of activity at the lodge. It looked as if it was doing a 
booming business, which was strange, since Tyler had been under the 
impression that the lodge had been allowed to fall into disuse after its 
purchase. Tyler also found it a bit strange that most of the milling crowd 
were young men. 

Tyler pulled the car to a stop in front of the lodge. Tad came out of the 
building and down the stairs to meet him. 

"What is this?" Tyler asked, getting out to take Tad's offered hand. "It's 
beginning to look more and more like a Cub Scout convention." 

"Come on inside for a little drink and refreshment," Tad said, leading the 
way back up from where he'd come. They went into a lobby filled with a large 
grouping of couches and chairs, many of them filled with the sprawl of more 
young bodies. Tad made brief introductions of Tyler to the young man behind 
the front desk, Blane Tanners, and then he directed Tyler into the office. 

Tad closed the door behind them and turned to look Tyler over. 

"Your time in the great out-of-doors has done you a world of good," Tad 
commented. "You look fantastic." 

"Compliments will get you nowhere," Tyler said. "Is there someplace I can 
get a drink?" 

"First, I think there's something else we'd better take care of," Tad said, 
walking to close the short distance between them. "This," he said, his 
fingers moving to caress the bulged cock ridge along Tyler's left thigh, "is 
not something a virile young man like you should be flaunting before all of 
those youngsters out there. Without any girls around here, you're liable to 
soon find a few of the young men lining up to service you. That would end up 
possibly being fun but also being a bit of bad publicity if it ever leaked 
to the press. And bad publicity is just the opposite of what your daddy 
hopes to get out of this little enterprise." 

Tyler thought Tad had just been making a joke about taking care of his cock, 
but he soon had other things coming. Tad had decided the minute he'd seen 
the hard cock at Tyler's crotch that he was going to have it. Tad had gotten 
hornier than hell watching all that young meat bulging teenage pants for the 
past couple of days, and although he'd never considered himself a chicken 
queen, he'd seen what looked like a few mouthfuls he wouldn't have passed up 
if they were offered him -- at any other time and any other place. The 
problem was compounded by the fact that Tad felt he could have had a lot of 
the kids out there by just asking for them. From the looks he'd been 
getting, the blatant stares he'd seen directed at his crotch, Tad knew that 
the kids out there knew a hell of a lot more about sex than he had at their 
age. Well, whether they were available or not, he was determined to keep his 
hands off of them. If they wanted to play around, they'd have to make do 
with each other. Tad could have easily blown everything he'd worked for by 
playing around in any one of those pants bulging with young meat out there 
in the lounge, and he didn't want that. Not only could he imagine such a 
sexual liaison as endangering his position with Franklander Lumber, but he 
also realized the responsibilities he had now to Jocelyn and their unborn 
baby to avoid any scandal. 

"Your cock is as fat as ever," Tad said. He'd unzipped Tyler's pants, and 
his fingers had found the swollen meat. 

Tyler hadn't put up any protest. He'd gotten his hard-on while thinking of a 
reunion with Jamie on the road to Estling, and when that meeting hadn't 
transpired, his cock had remained hard nevertheless. The best way Tyler 
could think of getting it soft again was by having someone suck it. And if 
Tad wanted to say his hello that way, then why the hell not let him? 

"How can you be here pulling out my cock with all that out there?" Tyler 
asked, looking down at his cock now jutting free of his pants as Tad fished 
back into the trousers for Tyler's balls. 

"All that cock out there is off limits," Tad said. "This one isn't." 

"Don't you think it might be wise to lock the door?" Tyler asked as Tad was 
sinking to his knees before him. "Some of those kids could walk in here and 
be shocked to death by all of this." 

"Don't worry about our being disturbed," Tad said, knowing he wasn't going 
to stop now for anything. "Blane will stand guard. He knows how horny I am, 
and he was drooling over your hard-on himself when you walked in. I've 
already told him to see that we weren't disturbed after your arrival." 

"He's one of our little group?" Tyler asked. He should have possibly paid 
more attention to the man behind the desk, but the youngsters had been so 
distracting. Tyler vaguely recalled a butch, muscular stud, who certainly 
didn't give any outward signs of preferring cock over cunt. 

"I'll tell you all about Blane later, too," Tad said. Now that he had 
Tyler's cock pried out in the light, he wanted to get down to business. He 
needed a little variety in the meat he ate. He'd been getting more than his 
share of Blane's cock, but a little change of menu certainly never hurt 
anybody. Besides, all of that young cock had gotten Tad so hot and horny 
that if he'd sucked Blane's dick as often as he'd wanted to, he'd have had 
the rod sucked raw by now. 

Tad had Tyler's cock held captive in one hand, his fist holding the shaft of 
the big dong. The cock was harder than hell. Tad could wonder what it was 
that had gotten it that way. He might have suspected the cock and ass of one 
or two of the butch young studs in the lounge, but Tyler's cock bulge had 
been evident from the minute he'd stepped from his car. 

Tad gave the dick a couple of preparatory strokes, watching hungrily as the 
cum-slit gushed a stream of pre-cum that began to drool over the slope of 
the rosy knob. 

Tad bowed his face over the rod and sucked up the cockhead while his free 
hand was expertly unzipping his own pants and letting his hard dick jut out 
to where he could get to it. He started to pump it even while his face was 
sliding downward over the cock jutting from Tyler's groin. 

Tad's throat muscles relaxed for the prick, the man watching as the cock 
slipped in. He took it in four quick gulps. His pursed lips gummed the root 
of the dick, his mouth leaking a mess of spit to bathe the inches of meat 
he'd succeeded in swallowing. 

God, it was good swinging on cock and pumping his own in turn. As starved as 
Tad was for prick at this stage of the game, he wondered how he was going to 
last for the duration. 

Tad's mouth dragged back up the stalk of Tyler's rod, pausing with only the 
pulpy knob entrenched behind his taut lips. He tasted the salty residue of 
the natural lubricant which continued leaking from the sucked cum-slit. 

Tyler widened his stance on the floor for better balance, putting a hand on 
each of Tad's shoulders for support. By looking downward, he could see Tad's 
head sinking down over bin crotch. He could feel the progression of Tad's 
face as the wet warmth which had just held his knob enclosed was suddenly 
expanded to take in more and more of his stalwart dick. 

Tad's throat quickly adjusted to taking Tyler's cock. The young man was soon 
able to move into a working cadence that dropped his mouth deep over the 
cock and then back up the thick shaft to the last inch that was the head. 
His jaws ached with their stretching for the mouthful, but the pain was 
insignificant. 

"You always could give good head, you bastard," Tyler said, his hips 
bouncing with a fucking rhythm that coincided with Tad's sucking movements. 
"But aren't you a little old to be playing with yourself? I was told it'd 
make hair grow on the palm of your hands." 

Tad growled something in reply, the sound turning his sheathing mouth and 
throat into a living vibrator that tingled the entire length of Tyler's 
cock. He momentarily pulled the protective fuck of his lips from his teeth 
and dragged the bared enamel over the big fuck-stick. 

"Jesus, careful!" Tyler panted, feeling the slight pain and knowing it was 
merely Tad's retort to Tyler's previous bit of witticism. 

Tad muffled his teeth with lip again and got to work. He was hungry for the 
taste of hot cum running over his tongue, sliding down his throat and into 
his belly. He knew from past experience that Tyler's nuts held a hell of a 
load. When it came, Tad's cheeks would balloon wit it, concaving only as Tad 
suctioned the deluge of sperm away to die amid his digestive juices. 

Tad beat his cock faster, its leakings turning his hand wet. 

While his hand pumped, his mouth sucked. He took the lengthy cock into his 
throat, moving his free hand around Tyler's hips and onto a cheek of his 
ass. He bounced his head over the cock -- up and down, sometimes giving a 
shake of his head to make the cock penetrate his face at a different angle. 
Tad drooled spit, some of it smearing the opened crotch of Tyler's trousers. 

Tyler's hands had moved from Tad's shoulders to the man's head. His fingers 
glided up and down with the bouncing of Tad's face, Tyler's hips driving his 
fucking cock in and out of the salivating mouth. 

Tad knew what he was doing and wasn't about to waste any time. He wanted cum 
in his mouth and cum in his hand, and he wanted it quickly. There would be 
time later for a more lengthy encounter. Now, it was just to get these 
boners pacified so their owners could begin discussing business. 

Tad really went to work. His face bounced harder, his mouth sucked, 
slobbered, ate. His fist pumped his cock, beat it closer and closer to 
climax. As his own body prepared for explosion, Tad knew Tyler was getting 
ready to blow. He could tell, because Tyler was now more actively fucking 
his face than he was sucking. Another hint was the noticeable pulsing of 
Tyler's cock against his lips and tongue. 

Tyler was about ready to get his rocks off, and there was pleasure of 
course. Tyler, however, couldn't help subconsciously comparing this suck 
with the one Jamie has given him that morning. It was hard to imagine one 
blow job being different from another, but they were different just the 
same. Tad was good at giving head, but he just wasn't Jamie. Jamie had had a 
style all his own. As Tyler's nuts jerked tightly against the root of his 
cock in preparation to blow his wad up Tad's face, Tyler became more and 
more determined that Jamie wasn't going to escape him if he could help it. 

Tad prepared for the sudden shoving of Tyler's hips that would drive the 
man's exploding cock securely home for the final time. Tyler obliged by 
giving it to him. Tyler, both hands pushing Tad's head downward, thrust his 
lower body into Tad's face and let his balls blow. He ground his pelvis into 
Tad's face, his crotch hair scratching. 

Tad's timing had been almost perfect. Actually, Tyler orgasmed first, but a 
few final pumps of Tad's hand over his cock brought his nuts off in a very 
close second. As his mouth filled and kept filling with the hot washing of 
sperm, Tad's hands were webbing with the less energetic blastings of his own 
cock which had followed his initial gushings. 

Tad let Tyler keep his face anchored over the cock until the throes of 
pleasure had passed. Then when Tyler relaxed his hold on Tad's head, Tad 
dragged his lips upward one more time, milking the cock for any tardy jizz 
remaining inside. He tasted the last of the mess, his tongue washing the 
knob one final time as he spit out the cock. 

Tad got up from his knees, his hand still holding his cum-strewn dick, and 
walked to the desk, opening the drawer and fishing out a handful of tissue. 

Tyler stuffed his own cock, which had been sucked clean, back into his 
trousers, then zipped up his pants to conceal it. 

Tad finished mopping up the jizz from his fingers and his cock. He, too, 
tucked his dick back into cover and brought more Kleenexes around to wipe up 
the mess his splattering sperm had made on the carpet. 

Tyler took a seat in a chair facing the desk, waiting for Tad to finish with 
the cleanup. 

"Well," Tad said, depositing a wad of soiled tissue into the wastepaper 
basket at the end of the desk. "You don't know how much better I feel now, 
after that." 

"That should hold the both of us for a while," Tyler said. 

"And now, you'd like to know why big daddy has assigned you and me to 
Emerald Lake Lodge." 

"Shoot." 

"I just did." 

"I see you haven't lost your sense of humor." 

"Actually, we're both here to improve the public's opinion of Franklander 
Lumber. As I'm sure you must realize, being the boss' son, Franklander 
Lumber has had some substantial run-ins with the more gung-ho ecology groups 
over the past few years." 

"I'm aware of that, yes." 

"Well, Franklander, as you also know, supplies the wood pulp to Hollander 
Paper, a major subsidiary, and Hollander Paper has a few large government 
contracts." 

"I take it there's been some question about contract renewals?" 

"We're merely moving to nip the problem in the bud before it has a chance to 
interfere. Quite frankly, there are some very highly placed people who think 
Franklander Lumber's bad publicity over the last few years can't be ignored. 
Some people have been really big on ecology these last years, and 
Franklander has long been known to be a hold-out, to going along its own way 
without giving a damn about what anyone else thinks. Franklander was 
actually large enough to do just that in mast instances. However, times do 
change, and Franklander does need a new image if it wants to continue with 
its part of the profit pie." 

"So what's all of this? And all of that out there?" Tyler asked, motioning 
toward the door, and indicating the scene behind it. 

"Your father wants the world to know that he cares -- not only about ecology 
but about people." "What kind of crock of shit is my old man cooking up 
here?" 

"It's called public relations," Tad answered. 

"What is?" Tyler asked. "How about giving me the specifics?" 

"I'd be glad to," Tad said. "After all, as W.J. Franklander's son, you're to 
be his official representative at this little enterprise. The old man 
thought you'd be a better figurehead than he was in this new move. He's been 
too much in the antiecology spotlight lately. But you..." 

"Go on," Tyler said. He was curious. Maybe he wasn't going to have to look 
too far for Jamie after all. "And while you're at it, how about getting me 
that drink you promised me an hour ago?" 

CHAPTER SEVEN 

It was morning, early morning, but it was going to be a warm day, and some 
of the kids were already outside. Terry could hear them as they tossed a 
Frisbee out on the lawn. The boy got out of bed and went to his shirt which 
was piled with his pants and underwear on a nearby chair. He unbuttoned one 
of the pockets and took out the square of neatly folded newspaper, then went 
back to the bed, falling belly first onto the mattress and springs. He 
propped both pillows beneath his chest and, once comfortable, proceeded to 
unfold the paper. 

What Terry had retrieved from his shirt and now spread out in front of him 
for perusal were actually two newspaper clippings plus their accompanying 
photographs. 

"Athletic supporter Tyler Franklander," began one of the articles in bold 
type, "is shown here at the site of the competitions now being held at 
Estling's Emerald Lake Lodge for the children of financially deprived 
parents. Tyler Franklander, whose father William is head of the 
internationally known Franklander Lumber..." 

Terry didn't bother reading the article. He'd read it before. What did again 
catch his interest was the picture of his father with his arm around an 
attractive blond youth who had just moved to claim a semifinals title in the 
field and track competitions. To anyone else, the picture wouldn't have 
generated any immediate amount of curiosity. It was the same type of 
publicity shot seen in the paper everyday -- the sponsor of an event 
congratulating one of the winners. 

What made this picture so unique was not the picture itself but how it 
looked when taken in comparison with the other photo Terry now moved up 
beside it. 

"Tyler Franklander," the second picture's caption began, "is shown here at 
Emerald Lake Lodge with his son Terry, who came to watch the last week of 
scheduled competitions that would award to financially deprived amateur 
athletes over one hundred thousand dollars in scholarships." 

The Tyler Franklander in one picture, smiling and happy, was a startling 
contrast to the Tyler Franklander in the other, the latter appearing very 
still and proper in a photo which had been obviously posed. 

Terry compared his likeness with the attractive blond in the other 
photograph. Terry was just as blond, just as good-looking, just as young as 
the other boy. So, what was there that would make Tyler react so differently 
to Terry than he had to Jamie Bravo, unless it was the fact that Terry was 
his son? 

Tyler had not been happy to see Terry. That had been more than obvious, and 
Terry certainly hadn't needed the pictorial verification he now had before 
him to tell him that. He'd known before the picture had ever been snapped 
that his arrival on the scene wasn't even expected. Terry had thought his 
father knew he was coming. 

Terry was a perceptive enough young man to see the swarm in the hornet's 
nest which his arrival had caused. After the day's competitions had finished 
and most of the press people were back in Estling in their hotel rooms, 
calling in their stories, the shit hit the fan at Emerald Lake Lodge. 

W.J. Franklander, who had been hanging off on the sidelines carefully 
watching what was happening from a distance, was suddenly summoned by a 
phone call from his son. The shouting between them that happened shortly 
after the elder Franklander's arrival might have filtered out 
undecipherable, but it certainly hadn't gone undetected. 

To everyone's apparent surprise, including W.J. Franklander's, Tyler had 
just suddenly aborted his shout session, rushed from the office to his car 
and disappeared in a mass of squealing rubber and flying gravel. That had 
been two days ago, and nobody knew were Tyler had gone, including his 
father, who had been left with making excuses to a press corps that had 
warmed to the son but was suddenly a little dubious when confronted 
face-to-face with the crafty old man himself. 

Terry pushed both pieces of paper off the bed, watching them flutter to the 
floor. He rolled over on his back, folding his arms behind his head, 
wondering what had happened and why that had made the gap so deep between 
him and his father. The divorce had certainly been part of it, but it had 
been more than that. Tyler had been awarded full visiting privileges and had 
never taken advantage of them. Something else had happened, then, before the 
divorce. Terry searched his mind for an answer. All he could ever remember 
were the good times they'd had together. There had been a lot of the good 
times. 

One particular day was always recalled vividly. He'd been ten. He and his 
father had been wrestling on the lawn. They'd hugged tightly to each other 
and had rolled over and over on the grass. They'd stopped finally, Terry's 
young body sprawled out on top of his father's chest and belly. Terry could 
still remember looking down at his father's handsome face, seeing the flush 
that had risen in the man's cheeks, seeing the tousled fall of the thick 
hair over his forehead and into his eyes. Terry had also been acutely aware 
of something else -- a hardness along, his father's belly that was pushed 
tight against the boy's own crotch. 

Tyler had rolled, taking Terry with him, pinioning the boy's body beneath 
his, the strange hardness now even tighter against Terry's lower belly, 
grinding with a painful pleasure into Terry's young cock and balls. The boy 
had felt secure beneath his father's warm muscle and flesh. He'd gone heady 
with the manly smells. His father had kissed him. It had been a kiss far 
different from any Terry could remember up to then or could remember after. 
It was as if the boy was being actually sucked completely into his father's 
body, was being somehow eaten alive. Terry had surrendered himself to the 
moment, had felt a recurrence of those strange sensations which had even 
then begun to stir and warm his groins keeping him awake at nights. Then 
Tyler had sensed something outside the world he had made for him and his 
son, and Terry had seen his mother standing silently by the side of the 
house watching them. She hadn't said anything but had just walked up the 
steps and onto the back porch. Tyler had left Terry and gone after her. The 
boy hadn't wanted him to leave. Terry had wanted his father's body pressed 
down on top of him forever. He blamed his mother. Six months later, there'd 
come the divorce, and Terry had only seen his father a couple of times 
since. 

Terry had loved his father more than he could have ever loved his mother, 
and he'd been deeply hurt when Tyler had up and pulled out of his life with 
no apparent explanations. He'd been hurt, but he hadn't kept from believing 
that his father was coming back. 

As Terry had gotten older, his father still avoiding him, the boy had picked 
up a few pieces to be fitted into the puzzle. His father had apparently 
married Terry's mother but had never really loved her. He'd had sex with 
her, Terry being the prime result of such a mating, but he had preferred 
another type of sex than that found in the nuptial bed. Somewhere along the 
line, Tyler had possibly gone to bed with Terry's uncle. Paula had never 
gotten along very well with her younger brother, and Christopher had once 
screamed that he'd actually been a better lay for her husband than she had 
been. 

Homosexuality had not been mentioned in the divorce proceedings. W.J. 
Franklander had paid plenty to Paula to keep the charge exclusively one of 
mental cruelty. W.J. Franklander had paid plenty to Paula to make her agree 
to let Tyler have visiting privileges. W.J. Franklander had liked his share 
of young men, too, but his wife had been a bit more sophisticated and 
civilized about it than the bitch his son had married. On no account did 
W.J. think that his son's sexual proclivities should deny him the right of 
being the father he, by fact, was. 

And now W.J. Franklander had paid Paula a lot of money to have himself made 
the boy's guardian. Paula wanted to remarry. The guy was young, he was 
attractive, he we hung. He was also poor. There we the additional problem 
that Paula's alimony payments were scheduled to come to a stop as soon as 
she remarried. Paula had gone to her ex-father-in-law and sold him her son 
for more money. She loved Terry, but she was still a young and vital woman. 
She needed a man. She thought she'd found one in Tyler. She'd been wrong. 
She thought she'd found one now in Sean, and she didn't want to let him go. 

W. S. Franklander had paid the price gladly and taken his own grandchild 
under his protective wing. 

"We're going to give you back your father," Terry's grandfather had told him 
triumphantly. "You two have been without each other for too damned long." 

Well, W.J. had apparently chosen the wrong place and the wrong time to pull 
off his proposed reunion. Tyler had bolted. Terry tried to understand, but 
he couldn't. He thought he had some of the pieces, but he couldn't fit them 
together to get any completed picture. He only knew by looking at the two 
newspaper photos now on the floor that, where Tyler still had the knack of 
spontaneous affection for some people, he had apparently lost that capacity 
when it came to his own son. 

Terry missed his father, missed the good times they'd once had. He couldn't 
help wondering if maybe it wasn't something he'd done that had made Tyler 
turn from him. 

Terry had been fondling his cock and balls while he'd been thinking of his 
father. His cock was hard now, jutting from the golden cluster at his groin 
to the hairless flatness of his belly. He knew what that hardness had been 
inside of his father's pants that day. He knew, also, that the tingling 
inside his guts when he'd realized the presence of that hard-on had been the 
stirrings of his own sexual awareness. 

Terry's hand languidly pumped his cock as the cum-slit leaked juices that 
his whipping fist smeared along the knob and shaft of his prick. He stopped 
jacking off long enough to prop a pillow beneath his head. He then lifted 
his legs and let his hips curve upward over his face. He dropped his knees 
down around his ears, his cock slipping into the ovaling of his lips. His 
tongue licked immediately, and the boy tasted his own juices. His right hand 
took up again the slow stroking of the cock, milking it of more liquid to 
emerge salty on Terry's tongue. 

Terry bounced on the bed, the spring of the mattress working his mouth about 
his cock. Looking upward over the creases of his young belly, Terry could 
see the inches of his fat dick, the blue vein that snaked along one side of 
it. His healthy balls hung low in the scrotum, drooping down along the 
length of his rod. His nuts were moving inside their bag, the skin shifting 
even as he watched. 

Terry's spine had relaxed even more, dropping his cock farther so that he 
could take more of his meat into his mouth. His lips holding the cock 
secure, Terry let both hands reach upward for his ass, his fingers clamping 
the cheeks of his butt. With his hands thus placed, Terry exerted a pulling 
pressure that bowed his crotch nearer his face. The boy sucked up even more 
of his own cock. 

Terry enjoyed eating his prick. As a matter of fact, it was actually the 
only type of sexual release he practiced. He'd graduated from jacking off as 
soon as he had discovered his body was supple enough and his cock big enough 
for this type of activity. Even at his young age, his butch good-looks and 
man-sized dick had given him a couple of opportunities where he might have 
tried cunt, but he'd let the opportunities pass. He just wasn't turned on by 
it. 

Terry's cheeks sucked inward, concaving against the cock inside his mouth. 
His tongue continued to whip the dick, wrapping it sensuously. He enjoyed 
the taste of his cock, wondered if some other guy would enjoy it, too. 

His left hand still pulling on his ass to keep his cock deeply entrenched, 
Terry let his right hand slip back down to his nuts. He began massaging his 
eggs, pinching them like only he knew how it should be done. The resulting 
dull ache came as a supplement to the pleasure. When his scrotum had grown 
much thicker, crawled higher toward the base of his cock, Terry put his hand 
back on his ass, pulling his dick deeper yet inside his face. 

Terry was in no hurry. There was very little he had to do today. He wasn't 
doing anything except watching. Those other kids were slaving their asses 
off for something Terry had by right of birth. He was guaranteed a college 
education if his grades were good enough. The only similarity between 
himself and some of the slum kids was that the bill for his future education 
was going to be footed by the same man -- W.J. Franklander. 

Slowly and easily, Terry ate his own meat, working it over with his lips and 
his tongue, sucking in more and more of it as his body bent farther. He'd 
managed to claim over half of his cock, knew that before he'd blasted, he 
would have himself gobbled up to his balls. 

Terry felt very content when he ate his prick. Maybe it was because of such 
moments he was aware that he really didn't need anyone else. For a few short 
moments, Terry was his own self-contained world. He could be lost in 
himself, could be lost in loving himself. The pleasure would rise, and he 
would control it for a time. He knew what to do to hurry it an its way to 
completion. He knew what to do to delay the inevitable orgasm for a few 
minutes more while he could enjoy the ecstatic build-up. Terry could forget 
everyone else at these times. Here on this bed, his mouth wrapped around his 
cock, Terry could forget everyone, everything, except himself. 

Jerry was a perfect physical specimen for his age. He had a young boyish 
body with just a hint of the development he would have at same later age. 
His chest was already contoured by two slightly defined domes, his belly 
etched with the tracings of the muscle that would mature with age and raise 
to washboard his belly. He had naturally broad shoulders, a tapered waist, 
good arms and legs. He was already handsome, many of his father's handsome 
features evident but refined. His blond hair was thick on his head, combed 
in a tousled sweep over his forehead and feathered over his ears. His eyes 
were deep blue, almost purple, speckled with flecks of gold. A well-paid 
dermatologist had kept his complexion clear of pimples. 

Terry's lips edged finally into his lower belly, his cock lost deeply inside 
his throat. His nose was pressed tightly into the compact mass of his own 
balls, his chin chafing against his own crotch hairs. He twisted his face 
over the cock, letting the rod slip free of his mouth. His lips hugged the 
exiting inches. 

He pulled his hips don into his face again, taking the cock into the velvety 
wetness. He was comfortable with this cock. It was part of him. It belonged 
to the body it was fucking. It fit perfectly up his throat as if it had been 
made for it. He could easily picture himself coiled in his mother's womb to 
enjoy the same pleasures there that he was enjoying here now. 

Terry gave himself up to the suck. All other thoughts seemed to fade from 
his mind. He'd achieved the state of mind for which he'd strived. He was at 
peace with himself. He continued to eat his meat, licking furiously at the 
cock that fucked his face. His balls were cum-bulged now. The cock, already 
stretching Terry's mouth open as far as it would go, was throbbing even 
bigger. 

Terry growled over his dick, enjoying the resulting vibrations. The boy was 
aware of the juices beginning to chum inside of him. He sucked slower, 
wanting to delay the inevitable. After climax, the world would come crashing 
back onto him. Terry didn't want the reality. It wasn't very flattering to 
his ego to know that his father didn't want him, that his mother had sold 
him like a piece of meat on the auction block, that his grandfather had been 
the buyer but had forgotten long ago how one went about raising a young 
teenager. 

Terry tried desperately to prolong, curled on the bed in his little ball, 
his cock a piston up his mouth. The boy delighted in the feel and the taste 
of himself. He didn't want any of it to end. 

But it had to end eventually. Even the boy, who was so familiar with his own 
body that he could several times contain an eruption and proceed with more 
build-up, was destined to eventually have to let it come to an end. Once the 
fires were conjured within his body, they eventually had to become the 
masters. No one could keep them enslaved forever. It was only a matter of 
time before they swelled, peaked, slipped back to oblivion until next lime. 

Terry fought to maintain his control, even going so far as to bite his cock 
hard at one point when he thought an orgasm was upon him. Control was his 
for an awfully long time, but he eventually lost it. He knew when the reins 
slipped from him. His mind registered the hasty approach of an ejaculation, 
and he knew it was time to do something, time to perform one of his sexual 
tricks to stop it, but his body wouldn't respond. His lips and mouth just 
continued to gum and eat, his head and hips continued to bounce, his throat 
continued to vibrate around his twitching prick. 

Shock after shock of pleasure rocked his body. He spasmed on the bed, his 
balls spewing a deluge of wet, warm jizz into his mouth where the boy 
quickly sucked it all away. His eyes blurred with the ecstasy. He thought he 
was sucking his guts out of his belly trough his cock. 

"Eat me, Daddy!" Terry squealed, his voice coming out mumbled and 
undecipherable about the plug of his spasming cock. 

CHAPTER EIGHT 

It was only natural that the two would eventually gravitate toward one 
another. After all, one was the son who saw affections which should have 
been meant for him directed toward another. The second was the lover who 
suspected, each time Tyler grunted his climax, the man had been imagining 
himself locked in torrid embrace with his own son. 

Their eyes had met and locked one afternoon as Terry stood with his 
grandfather at the edge of the swimming pool, watching Jamie swim to another 
victory. Jamie had pushed himself free of the water to hear W.J.'s 
congratulations and met Terry's gaze. Jamie had gone to the shower and 
waited. He'd actually expected Terry then. When, after a while, it became 
apparent Jamie had been mistaken about Terry's arrival, he had showered and 
dressed. He walked out onto the porch. There were other events going on 
around the area, but Jamie wasn't involved in any more of them for the rest 
of the day. He easily picked out W.J. over by the pole vault, but Terry was 
no longer with him. 

Terry had left his grandfather when Jamie had gone to the lockers. He had 
thought of drifting back into the shower room, but he had decided not to. He 
had no qualms about seeing Jamie stark naked, actually would have enjoyed 
the spectacle, but he wanted a bit more privacy. He crossed the competition 
field and leaned against a tree on the edge of the forest, pretending to 
concentrate on the activities but actually waiting for Jamie to reappear. 
When he saw him emerge from the lodge, Terry waited until he was sure Jamie 
had seen him and then slipped into the underbrush. Through an interlacing 
weave of dried bushes, Terry saw Jamie casually leave the porch to follow 
him. Within minutes, the two met on a small path, turning to walk on it by 
mutual consent. Now that they'd gotten together, they really didn't know 
what to say to each other, so neither momentarily said anything. They walked 
for a considerable distance in silence. 

"You swim?" Jamie asked finally. 

"Not as well as you," Terry answered. "I saw you today, and you're good, 
really good. Even Grandfather said so." 

"I mean, there's a swimmin' hole up here I found when I first got here. It 
catches the afternoon sun. Oughta be great 'bout now." 

"Okay," Terry agreed. 

After a while, the path forked, and Jamie led the way along the correct one. 
He eventually left the path completely and climbed a small rise. Terry could 
hear the rush of running water. 

"Watch it," Jamie instructed. "It's kinda steep." They climbed down a sharp 
embankment and into the sun. A small waterfall splattered its spray on tile 
rocks, and there was a small pool a little distance away. Jamie began 
immediately to strip off his clothes and soon entered the water. It was ice 
cold -- not like the heated pool at the lodge. 

Shortly Terry joined him. The two swam silently for a few minutes and then 
climbed out on the warm slab of rock to dry. Jamie sat by the edge of the 
pool, his feet dangling into the water, and Terry pressed his cock into the 
stone beneath his belly, propping his chin on his forearm. 

"I met him on the way here," Jamie said finally. "I was hitchin', an' he 
stopped to gimme a lift." 

"Who?" Terry asked, and the question was so superfluous, Jamie didn't even 
bother answering it. 

And that was the beginning. Where it had been Jamie who had begun the 
conversation, it was Terry who ended up talking the most. He took Jamie back 
to his childhood and up through adolescence, mentioning many of the good 
times. He talked about things he'd never talked about with anybody before -- 
not secret things but just shared moments. Terry had really had few close 
friends in his life, and even Jamie was hardly a friend. Yet Jamie was in 
the right place at the right time. He was willing to listen, and Terry did 
want to talk. And it helped that they were both naked. That seemed to break 
down all barriers which might have existed between them. 

Terry never mentioned his day on the lawn when his father had kissed him and 
then run guiltily after his wife who had witnessed the blatant sexual 
display; Jamie never mentioned the fact that he and Tyler had fucked in the 
settling dust of the speeding car and then later in a motel room. 

"You're close to my father," Terry said eventually. His back had dried, and 
he sat up now to let the sun get to the rest of his body. "That makes me a 
little jealous, since he doesn't even seem to know I exist." There was an 
unmistakable edge of bitterness which he was unable to keep out of his 
voice. 

"If you think he don't know you exist, then you're a first-grade asshole," 
Jamie said. 

"Did he ever say anything about me to you?" Terry asked. He was afraid once 
he'd asked the question, afraid that Tyler had never said anything about 
him. 

"Christ, one of the first things he ever said to me was that I was young 
enough to be his son," Jamie said. "He told me a coupla times how much I 
remind him of you." 

"Funny," Terry said. "The one day I saw him at the lodge, he didn't say half 
a dozen words to me." 

"Your father's scared shitless," Jamie said, wondering how far he should go, 
how much he should say. A lot of it, after all, was only his own thoughts on 
the subject. He could have been all wrong. Still, he didn't think so. 

"Dad? Scared shitless?" Terry asked unbelieving. 

"You're scared he don't love you at all. He's scared he loves you too 
fuckin' much." 

Terry waited for further elucidation, but it wasn't forthcoming. Jamie had 
decided to commit himself no further. 

"Don't ask me to explain that," Jamie said finally. "I don't know if I could 
without tellin' you somethin' 'bout your father that ain't for me to say." 

"You mean about his not liking girls?" Terry asked. It was the first direct 
reference either of them had made to Tyler and sex. 

"You know that?" Jamie asked. For some strange reason, Jamie had suspected 
Terry would be completely ignorant of that sexual aspect of his father's 
life. 

"People talk," Terry said. He wrapped his arms around his bent legs, put his 
chin in the groove between his two knees. "I listen." 

"It upset you if it was true?" Jamie asked. 

"It is true, then?" 

Jamie kicked his feet in the water, reached his right hand into the pool and 
cupped some of the liquid which he then ladled over his chest. 

"You better ask him that," Jamie said eventually. 

"I don't have to ask him," Terry answered. "I've known the truth for a long 
time. The only effect my knowing has had on me was that it made me jealous. 
When I found out my uncle had been in bed with my father, I could have 
killed my uncle -- not because he'd done it but because I hadn't." 

"You really feel that way?" Jamie asked. He was beginning to see why Tyler 
was running scared. If Jamie had been old enough to have had a kid like 
Terry, he would have been hard-pressed to keep his hands off him no matter 
what the social taboos. 

"That's sick, isn't it?" Terry asked. He spoke as if Jamie's answer, whether 
affirmative or negative, would be the last word needed to convince him one 
way or the other. 

Jamie shrugged. He might have answered yes at one time in his life -- before 
Greg. Not now. Maybe it was because he personally found exceedingly exciting 
the conjured pictures of Tyler's muscular maleness entwined with his son's 
cool, blond beauty. Jamie was embarrassed that he was beginning to get a 
hard-on. 

"Wouldya really do it?" Jamie asked out of pure curiosity. "I mean if he 
wanted to, wouldya? 'Cause if the answer's yes, you oughta see why the fuck 
your father's runnin' scared." 

"I don't understand." 

"No? Think about it, man. If, when he's with me, he's talkin' about you all 
the time, but with you he don't say over six words, don't that tell you 
somethin'?" 

"You're suggesting..." 

"I ain't suggestin' nothing." 

But what if he were suggesting what Terry thought he was? Then, what a 
fucking waste of five years. What a damned fucking waste! But how could 
Tyler have known how Terry had felt about him? How could he have known that 
Terry had spent the past years jacking off and sucking himself off while 
thinking of his father? The point was, Tyler hadn't known. None of that had 
been written on Terry's forehead during the few brief encounters he'd had 
with his father since the divorce. And Tyler was afraid of corrupting his 
own son. That was why Tyler had been avoiding his blond, blue-eyed little 
boy who wasn't so little any more. The man was still feeling guilty about 
those stirrings in his loins back on that hot summer day when the two of 
them had rolled on the grass together. Incest -- that was what society 
called it. What kind of a father was it who could get turned on by his own 
son? The thought that it was incest he was imagining every time Terry pumped 
his cock or sucked it off hadn't stopped the boy's fantasizing. Terry had 
rationalized the incestuous implications in his mind. After all, what he did 
was fantasy, not actually reality. But had Tyler been able to so easily 
rationalize what it meant to sexually desire his own son when he knew it 
would have been so easy to make it reality with the pure strength of his 
muscle, never dreaming his desire might have been reciprocal? Maybe it was 
time Tyler stopped running. 

"I know what you're thinkin'," Jamie said, interrupting Terry's line of 
thought. 

"Do you?" 

"I can read it on your face, man. You're thinkin', 'If I want it, an' he 
wants it, what's the harm an' who's gonna stop us?' But you think you can 
really handle it?" 

"What's to handle?" 

"That scares me," Jamie said. "I like your father a lot. I don't want you to 
screw up his head any more 'n it already is." 

"You think our going to bed will make things worse instead of better?" 

"You ever done anythin', kid?" Jamie asked, feeling very much older at that 
minute in his life. 

"Done any what?" 

"Done it. It. Gone to bed with another man." 

"Why?" 

"'Cause if you ain't, an' then you go to bed with your father an' panic, 
you're gonna fuck both of you up. How you gonna cope with incest when you 
ain't even sure if you can groove with gay sex?" 

"What makes you think I haven't done anything?" 

"'Cause you woulda said so right off. You told me about wantin' to go to bed 
with your father, about how to arrange it. Why not tell me 'bout a plain old 
suck or fuck with another guy unless you never done nothin'? An', baby, 
gettin' it on ain't always like you think it's gonna be." 

"I'll handle it," Terry said with confidence. 

"Prove it!" Jamie said. He pulled his legs out of the water and stood up. 
When he faced Jamie, his cock was a hard mass jutting upward from his bagged 
balls to his navel. He walked to Terry, the latter not doing anything but 
looking up at him. 

"You think I can't handle that?" Terry asked, his hand cruising up and down 
the back of Jamie's leg. Terry sounded calm enough, but he sure as hell 
wasn't calm inside. 

"If you can't handle this one, you sure as fuck won't be able to take care 
of your old man's," Jamie said, his right hand wiggling his cock back and 
forth in front of him like a metronome. "His dick's a lot bigger'n mine." 

"You've made it with my father, haven't you?" Terry asked. The idea didn't 
turn him off. Quite the opposite. Terry was excited that he would soon be 
doing with Jamie's cock some of the thing his father had done with it. He 
didn't know if the other boy had noticed, but Terry's cock was almost as 
hard as Jamie's. 

"A coupla times, yeah," Jamie admitted. This was the first time he'd had sex 
with both a father and the man's son. He had a feeling it was going to be an 
experience to be remembered. 

"And you're going to show me how it's done? How I can please my father once 
I get him naked in bed?" 

"I can fry." 

"Kind of young to be playing teacher, aren't you?" Terry asked, his hand 
climbing up as far as Jamie's balls. The nuts he found were a handful, the 
loose flesh warm against Terry's fingers. It was the first time he'd ever 
had hold of another man's balls. His hand lingered, reluctant to pull free. 

"I learned a helluva lot in the neighborhood I grew up in," Jamie asked. 
"Your old man didn't believe that at first, but he fuckin' well did in the 
end." 

"What first, teacher?" 

"First I'm gonna fuck your ass," Jamie said. "Alter that, when I got your 
butthole filled up with my hot spunk, I might let you see bow it's like up 
my ass. Your father says I got one of the tightest little butts he's ever 
screwed. Think you might wanna put your hard cock up a pit that's been 
fucked royal by your old man?" 

"I'd sure as hell like to give it a try," Terry said. 

"Get up," Jamie said, watching Terry's body uncoil and come to a standing 
position. 

"And from here?" 

"We'll find some place more comfortable," Jamie said. "I wanta go easy on 
you the first time. If it's good the first time, you'll be lookin' for a 
second an' a third time around. But before we go lookin' for a spot -- you 
ever got really kissed by another guy?" 

"Sure. By my grandfather." Terry could have told Jamie about that other 
kiss, that one from his father, but that was somehow still too much of a 
private memory. 

"Well, I ain't your granddaddy, stud," Jamie said, taking Terry in his arms. 

And Terry didn't need the first kiss to tell him that much. Terry had known 
from the minute Jamie had stripped for the swim that this boy was nothing 
like his grandfather. Terry had seen W.J. Franklander's cock once. It was 
small and puffy and hidden beneath an overhang of gray-haired belly. Now, 
Jamie's cock wasn't small but large. It wasn't puffy but hard. It wasn't 
hidden but plainly visible as it reared its fist-sized knob upward and 
drooled its mess of pre-cum. Terry certainly wouldn't have been turned on by 
W.J. Franklander's cock as he was by this one. 

The kiss was highly reminiscent of the one Terry had received from his 
father that day so long ago, muted only in that Terry now knew enough about 
his own sexuality and sex in general that none of it was as new as it had 
been that first time. Still, Terry had to admit that there was an infinite 
degree of pleasure to be had in the kiss, pleasure that was supplemented by 
the unique experience of having another boy's naked flesh pressed so tightly 
into his own. 

Terry's mouth was opened by the pressure of Jamie's experienced lips. 
Jamie's tongue found the resulting breach and delved for the succulent 
warmth of Terry's spit. Against his chest, Jamie was aware of the softness 
of Terry's flesh, of the hardness of Terry's nipples, of the turgidness of 
Terry's cock aligned against his own cock between their mated bellies. 

Terry's tongue began to move, the boy catching on quickly. The tip of his 
tongue wiped the smooth enamel of Jamie's teeth, slid along the boy's gums, 
battled with the sensuous slipperiness of Jamie's tongue. 

It was a long kiss, a deep kiss, a kiss that left both boys faintly 
breathless when it came to its eventual finish. 

"Somethin' tells me you ain't gonna need much teachin'," Jamie said, his 
hand gliding down the curve of Terry's back and resting on the swell of the 
boy's buns. 

They didn't have to go far to find a place convenient for the sex they had 
in mind. The first time Jamie had discovered the rather idyllic setting, he 
had scouted it for a spot. He'd never dreamed at the time that it would be 
Tyler's son he would be bringing here, but he could certainly be glad now 
that it was. 

The stones were covered with a thick, green moss that was pleasantly cool 
against Terry's naked flesh as he obliged Jamie by rolling his belly into 
it. Terry's hard cock pressed an indent into the sponginess, and the rest of 
Terry's body found the moss adjusting to his contours. Terry was actually 
quite comfortable as he felt Jamie's hands easing his thighs apart to kneel 
between them. 

Jamie was excited, there was no doubt about that. He ran his fingers gently 
along the back of Terry's left thigh, coasting it upward to the solid curve 
of the boy's ass. Jamie's cock was a powerful mass of meat, uplifted between 
his hairless thighs. His balls drooped so low that they pooled in a flaccid 
mass of skin upon the moss. The boy milked his cock for its pre-cum, 
deciding the copious fluids that oozed free of his cum-slit wouldn't be 
enough for the entrance of his cock up a virgin ass. 

Terry waited, rather apprehensive. He'd had things up his ass before in 
preparation for the butt-fuck he knew he'd one day be getting -- a finger, a 
carrot, a small cucumber -- but he'd underestimated the size of the first 
cock that would fuck him. Jamie's cock had all those other inanimate tools 
beat all to slit. And Jamie had said Tyler's cock was even bigger. Terry 
tried to imagine that. The bulge at his father's crotch that day on the lawn 
had seemed giant-sized, but Jamie's dick was certainly the biggest Terry had 
ever seen this side of his own. 

Jamie spit in his hands to give him more juices to rub into the neck and 
head of his cock. He spit again, coating his rod with a thick veneering of 
saliva and love juices, each time wiping the excess off his fingers and into 
the crease of Terry's ass. 

Finally, Jamie moved into position, scooting forward so that his cock, when 
it was pried down from his belly, dived its head into the crease of Terry's 
butt and centered on the tightly closed bung. 

"If it starts hurtin', tell me," Jamie said. "This ain't suppose to hurt all 
that much, so if it's gettin' bad for you, don't be a hero. Your asshole's 
gonna hafta do some stretchin', but if we take it slow, it's gonna do it. 
Ready?" 

Jamie leaned forward, the head of his cock pressing for an entrance. He 
increased the pressure behind the placement of his cock, aware the second 
Terry's asshole began to yawn to accept the beginning of what Jamie planned 
to feed it. 

Terry told himself to relax, remembered how much easier it was to plug his 
butt with his fuck-finger when his asshole wasn't all tensed up. Still, a 
finger wasn't a cock like Jamie's, and it was a hell of a lot easier for a 
butt to accept something as small as a finger than it was for it to accept 
the sausage-sized dimensions of Jamie's cock. 

Beneath his belly, Terry felt his own dick leak another oozing of pre-cum 
which beaded on the moss just prior to its smearing on his stomach. 

If this was a first for Terry, it was also another first for Jamie. Not 
counting Jamie's never having fucked a father and son combination before, he 
couldn't ever remember a time he'd fucked a virgin ass. Oh, he'd plugged 
plenty of butt before, but they'd always seemed to have made way for someone 
else's cock before Jamie had gotten to them. It was hard to find virgin ass 
in Jamie's neighborhood. Usually, too soon, a youngster's asshole was 
claimed by some bigger stud who forced his way into it. Jamie could have 
thanked his lucky stars that Greg and Blane had been around to make sure 
Jamie's ass would be given up only when Jamie wanted. Very few kids in the 
slums had had that prerogative. 

The cockhead slipped securely into the slot that finally opened for it. No 
sooner had the sphincter opened, however, accepting the knob of Jamie's 
cock, than it seemed to clamp shut with a vengeance. The ovaling of Terry's 
asshole vised hard against that part of the cockshaft that formed the groove 
beneath the flaring of the knob. The exerted pressure was so intense that, 
far a brief second, Jamie thought one of two things was going to happen. 
Either his cockhead was going to be torn from its thick neck, or he was 
going to lose his hard-on. As it turned out, neither happened. 

Terry, not knowing how he was going to continue even accommodating this much 
of Jamie's cock, gave an involuntary jerk that didn't eject Jamie's cock but 
actually succeeded in bucking the butt upward to take even more prick. 

"Christ!" Terry groaned, despite all attempts made by him not to. 

Jamie fell to cover Terry's prone body, being careful to keep his hips 
elevated so that he wasn't driving any more of his cock up the butt than was 
already there. Jamie's arms collapsed, placing his elbows and forearms into 
the moss on either side of Terry's shoulders. 

"Easy, man," Jamie said, his voice low, his mouth close to Terry's ear. He 
lifted to pull a fraction of his cock out of Jamie's butt. "Just try an 
relax." 

Christ, Terry was trying, but it was different taking a hard cock belonging 
to someone than it was taking whatever things Terry had found in the past to 
jam up his ass. Jamie had certainly been right when he'd said there was a 
difference between fantasizing and reality. Terry was glad he was getting 
fucked by Jamie before he crawled into bed with his own father. When Tyler's 
fat cock came jabbing into Terry's ass, the boy wanted to be able to take it 
quickly and easily, not having to do like he was doing now -- squealing like 
a stuck pig. 

Jamie knew that all it would take would be one forceful shove to bury all of 
his cock up Terry's ass. That one, followed by another savage hump while 
Terry's body was shuddering with the shock of the first brutal drive, would 
have placed Jamie's cock in to its balls. Then if he would just hold on, 
Jamie's nuts would have been off in no time, his cock stripped to eruption 
in the jerkings of Terry's raped ass. Jamie knew tough studs who'd told him 
how they'd done it, how they'd just hopped on, shoved their dicks in, rode 
virgin ass to a climax. One kid had even suggested that he might like to do 
just that to Jamie sometime when his big brother wasn't looking. Greg had 
found out, somebody other than Jamie having told him, and by the time the 
stud had recovered from the knee to his nuts Greg had given him, he hadn't 
seemed nearly as interested in the shape of Jamie's butt as he had been 
before. 

Jamie didn't violently take Terry's vulnerable butt, however. He wanted 
Terry to enjoy, because his enjoyment was important. Terry was Tyler's son, 
and Jamie liked Tyler, liked the man a lot. Surprised to discover that Tyler 
was the son of W.J. Franklander, the rich fart putting up the dough for the 
competitions, Jamie had been even more surprised when Tyler had sought him 
out and personally arranged it so that the two of them could continue with 
the sex they'd begun on the road. To Jamie, Tyler, was an okay guy, not at 
all how he'd pictured someone with money. To Jamie, Terry was also an okay 
stud -- and not just because Terry was the son of the father. Jamie wanted 
Tyler and his son to be able to make a go of it if they ever managed to get 
as far as the bedroom. And why the hell shouldn't they be able to? Who were 
they hurting? They were actually doing more harm to themselves by trying to 
keep their feelings locked up inside of them. 

So Jamie waited, inserting no more of his cock up the virgin asshole than 
the head and inch that was already there. He waited, without driving in more 
of his dick, despite a swelling need inside of his guts to do just that. 

Terry didn't think he was ever going to adjust to the small bit of cock he 
had, let alone be able to accept all those inches of cock yet remaining to 
make the plunge inside his ass. He was, therefore, frankly surprised when 
the discomfort up his butt seemed to dissolve with the same suddenness as it 
had appeased. One second, Terry was on the desperate verge of telling Jamie 
he was going to have to pull free, enduring only because it meant so much 
for him to succeed at this time, with this boy; the next second, all of the 
pain was gone, replaced only by a sense of fullness in his ass. 

Jamie waited longer, refraining from further insertion until an intuitive 
feeling told him it was safe to proceed. 

"Better?" Jamie asked, his moving lips brushing Terry's ear. 

"Better," Terry affirmed, realizing that the sting in his eyes was caused by 
the sweat drooling from his forehead. 

Jamie worked his cock deeper by giving a series of short forward-and-back 
fucking movements, each downward jab burying one small fraction more of his 
cock up the bung than had been there before. This way, Terry's ass was able 
to adjust a little at a time instead of all at once. The slow and easy 
placement of the cock up the asshole worked perfectly. Fractions turned, to 
inches, and the inches turned to more inches, until Jamie's cock was two 
thirds of the way up Terry's butt without Terry having again had to endure 
the discomfort which had been present with the initial plugging of the cock 
up his asshole. 

Terry's body jerked when the cock collided with his prostate, but it wasn't 
a spuming of pain. The pain had suddenly left him completely. The tight 
feeling he had in his belly, and the taut stretching of his ass sphincter 
around the neck of Jamie's cock, were something other than a paining. It 
actually, already, was beginning to border on pleasure. 

Jamie knew the wont of it was over. Terry's butt was comfortably tight, but 
it wasn't so small that it wouldn't be able to take his prick. Now that 
Terry was beginning to loosen up a bit, his fears of the unknown vanishing 
as he began to realize that there was nothing distasteful or agonizing about 
a butt-fuck, no matter what he'd heard whispered by studs who knew nothing 
but shit, Jamie was going to be able to dive to his nuts up this butt, pump 
this asshole until his balls erupted a mesa of cum to cream the chafed bung 
with a sexual balm to soothe it. 

As Terry's butt accommodated Jamie's cock, his ass muscles losing their 
tightness and expanding for the plugging cock, Terry was struck by one 
revealing insight. What he now experienced was how he had always imagined it 
would be, but it was not how he actually taught it would be. Despite how 
often his mind had tripped out on homosexual fantasy, he'd still 
subconsciously believed that it would be far less enjoyable than he wanted 
it to be. He'd believed he'd attributed too much pleasure to male-male sex, 
because he always imagined it was his father who was with him, and Terry had 
so desperately wanted there to be good times like there used to be. Yet, 
down deep in his mind, undying in its little corner of darkness, was the 
fear that socially condemned sex couldn't actually be as gut-shatteringly 
wonderful as he'd dreamed it. 

Well, it was, and Terry was soon to find that out, was actually beginning to 
find tat out already. Terry breathed a sigh of actual ecstasy as Jamie's 
cock sunk its last up his butt. Jamie's balls came to smash against the 
cheeks of Terry's butt. Jamie's belly pressed to a rest on the firm young 
buns. 

The two rested, breathing in cadence as they marveled, each in his own way, 
at their success. They were one for a minute, joined as closely as two men 
could ever be. There was a uniting between them, however, that went beyond 
the purely physical presence of Jamie's cock up Terry's butt. 

"It'll be good," Jamie said, whispering low into Terry's ear, knowing that 
he somehow wanted this to be the best sex ever. He wanted it to be good not 
only for his sake, not only for Terry's sake, but for Tyler's sake. "I 
promise you, it'll be good." 

"Yes," Terry said, feeling a fullness that clogged not only his ass but his 
belly and throat, knowing tat he could believe Jamie's promise to make the 
good even better. "Make it good. Make it damned good." 

And Jamie had all intentions of doing just that. He pulled his hips upward, 
drawing behind them that bulk of cock which he had worked so diligently to 
place. He knew, as he pulled it out, that its resubmergence up the hole 
would be far easier than had been the first time. The butt knew what to 
expect now, and the asshole had been smeared with spit and love juices which 
would aid the second slide of the cock up the butt. 

Behind the exiting cock, the ass walls slipped shut. The next slides of the 
cock up the ass would be easier, but they would be accompanied by the 
tightness of a butt that was prepared to squash any cock inside it. This was 
virgin ass after all. No run of cock had stretched it so out of shape that 
it would offer any cock a loose fit. 

Jamie kept his hips on the rise until his cock was pulled free of the butt 
except for the pulpy knob which was still lodged firmly up the butt. He 
paused only briefly before pushing down to bury his cock once again. The 
cockhead and shaft slipped sensuously against an asshole that was wet with 
the natural lubricants which had smeared it. The completed insertion was 
made in one, long, easy glide, and it was immediately followed by another 
withdrawal. 

Terry was now completely at ease, actually comfortable with his chest, 
belly, and cock cushioned by the inherent springiness of the moss. For the 
first time he realized that the rising pleasures in his body were making his 
senses more acutely aware of things outside the realm of the screw. He heard 
a bird singing somewhere in the trees, heard its trills echoed by those of 
another bird. He heard the rushing of water over stones. He smelled the 
earthiness of the ground, saw the moss he lay on was sprouting small yellow 
flowers and delicate hair-like stems. Beneath Terry's belly, his cock was 
moving against a surface of moss that was wet with the pre-cum leaked from 
the drooling meatus. The roll of Terry's belly made his cock slide 
sensuously among the crushed yellow flowers. 

Their bodies seemed to fit perfectly. When Jamie had completed a downstroke, 
his cock lost to its limits up Terry's ass, the boy found his belly molding 
to Terry's ass and lower back, his chest tight against Terry's back, his 
head dropped into the slot formed by Terry's neck and shoulder. Jamie 
particularly noticed it, because most of the guys he'd fucked recently had 
been bigger and older than he was. Blane and Tyler were so tall that Jamie's 
head had rested between their shoulder blades when his cock was squeezing 
them from the rear. Fitting as well as Jamie and Terry did somehow made the 
fuck far more perfect, far more enjoyable than it might otherwise have been. 

Jamie, who had begun with a series of slow strokes, moved on to an even 
faster fucking rhythm as soon as he was sure that Terry's ass had 
accommodated itself completely to the slower movements of the cock inside 
it. The boy maintained the long smoothness of his fucking, despite the 
increased tempo, each thrusting pushing from knob to balls, each withdrawing 
pulling from balls to knob. 

Terry was surprised at how getting fucked by actual cock could be so 
different from the cock substitutes he had made use of whenever he'd 
pretended his ass was getting worked over by his father's cock. A real cock 
had a feel all of its own, a hardness disguised in the velvety texture of 
the layer of loose flesh that covered the more solid inner core. The cock up 
his butt wasn't as harsh as his finger or the carrot had been. Terry's 
finger-fucks had always been of comparatively short duration. Usually a few 
seconds prior to an ejaculation, when a twisting of a finger up his butt 
could make his orgasm a bit more intense, he'd jab it in. A fuck by a real 
cock, however, placed the cock in the ass and started its pumping before 
there was even a hint of an approaching orgasm. Then, as the pleasure built, 
the cock continued it's in-and-out strokings, it movement somehow managing 
to enhance existing pleasures and conjure even more new ones. 

It was good. Jesus, it was good -- for Terry, for Jamie. It was an 
indication of Jamie's skill and expertise, despite his youth, that the fuck 
was not a quick and frantic one. While the boy had known from the beginning 
that a fuck was better if both partners enjoyed, his knowledge that a long 
fuck was usually a better one now kept him using a well-paced rhythm even 
though the point had been reached where he desperately desired to move 
onward into an even faster cadence. 

Terry's cock continued to masturbate between his belly and the cushy moss on 
the stone. Terry's body rocked with the thump of Jamie's belly into his ass, 
that rocking moving the flesh of Terry's cock sensuously about the cock's 
hard center. The rod drooled more transparent juices, webbing cock and moss 
in a wet, warm womb. 

Jamie hadn't actually expected his enjoyment in fucking the son to be as 
great as it had been in fucking the father. He was, therefore, surprised at 
the degree of ecstasy that was flooding through him. While there was 
unlikely ever to be the same set of circumstances to give him the peculiar 
sensations indicative of that time he'd fucked with Tyler in the dust of 
that road, the pleasures of all ensuing fucks had certainly been no greater 
than what the boy was now feeling. And Jamie was confused by that. He'd 
always assumed sex with an older man was more enjoyable. Perhaps he'd been 
mistaken. Perhaps there was a lot to be said for screwing around with a guy 
his own age. Then again, perhaps, this sex was so good only because of who 
Terry was, of who Jamie was, of who Tyler Franklander was. No matter what 
the rhyme or the reason, the sex was good. There was no denying that. Jamie 
was enjoying, and he fought to make that enjoyment last. 

Birds continued to sing, water continued to cascade, the ground and the 
flowers continued to exude their own particular aromas, but both boys had 
suddenly lost all awareness of that. Their centers of concentration had 
become narrower and more local. Most of their senses focused in entirely on 
the aspects of the fuck. They heard only the panting of themselves; they 
felt only the warmth of their sweaty flesh; they saw only the blur of their 
passions; they smelled only the heady aroma of males in heat. 

Terry was actually shocked when it first occurred to him that he was going 
to come. Never had he expected Jamie's fucking of his ass to be enough to 
make his own nuts erupt. Of course, the fuck of his butt by Jamie's hard 
cock wasn't totally responsible. Terry's cock was being steadily massaged by 
its movement against the moss as Terry's body rolled atop it. Still, Terry 
had assumed the natural conclusion to such a fuck was to have the cock 
explode up the ass. Terry had expected only that. His climax, if it was to 
come, was assumed to be later, when Jamie let Terry fuck him. It just seemed 
inconceivable that, without either his hands or Jamie's wrapping his cock, 
Terry was going to blast his wad. 

Inconceivable or not, Terry's increasing build-up of pleasure told him that 
an orgasm was just in the wings. The boy found himself wiggling his butt 
with delight, rolling it so that Jamie's cock would glide inward at just the 
right angle to swell Terry's passions even further. 

If Terry was surprised at the hastily growing chances of his own eruption, 
Jamie was no way surprised about the approach of his own. There was no way 
now on God's green earth that Jamie could have pumped this virgin ass for 
long and not blasted a good load of cream up it. There were some things in 
life which were impossible, and not climaxing as a result of this fuck would 
have been one of them. 

There was a breeze tat passed over their passion-hyped flesh, evaporating 
their sweat. It kept their bodies from growing sopped and sticking together 
as if plastered by glue. 

Terry was drooling. His spit had trailed over his forearm and drenched the 
moss. His eyes had been shut, and he hadn't even remembered shutting them. 
He didn't open them. He was at peace in the blackness behind closed lids, 
his mind more easily concentrating on the pleasures at work inside of him -- 
those pleasures that were twisting his guts into tiny knots. 

"I'm close," Jamie whispered. He would have liked the fuck to go on forever, 
but what he wanted and what he got were two different things. He was close, 
and he thought he'd better prepare Terry for the finale. 

Christ, how much closer to a blasting could Jamie be than Terry already was? 
For the past few humps of the cock in and out of his ass, the boy had 
thought that was all that would be needed. He'd thought he was posed on the 
brink of explosion, only to find that there was still a ways to be pushed 
closer yet to the edge. His throat had gone tight with his need for 
ejaculation, his belly had gone taut, his guts had twisted with that same 
need. He growled with his need, the sounds coming out like a loud purring. 

"Fuck me... fuck me... fuck me..." Terry begged, his voice keeping tempo to 
the movement of the cock up his ass. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. Fuck me 
fuck me fuck me." 

Jamie had fucked him already, but the fucking had finally come to its 
cataclysmic ending. Jamie's hips moved into high gear, pushing and pulling 
the cock up the butt with a speed that even surprised Jamie. Jamie's fingers 
clamped on the moss as the boy fought to hold on for his ride. His head 
arched back, his neck stretched, his mouth opening. His belly smacked 
Terry's ass, the sound of its hitting muffled amid the roaring in Jamie's 
ears. 

Terry couldn't believe such ecstasy was even possible. With each jab of 
Jamie's pelvis into his bruised ass, Terry felt his cock jerk in the moss 
beneath his belly. And ten that cock was creaming, creaming, creaming. Terry 
was too shook to even release the cry formed in his throat. It got caught 
there, choking but unuttered. His whole body jerked, his ass spasming. 

"JESUS FUCKING GOD!" Jamie bellowed, his head still thrown back, his words 
accompanied by a high, shrill howl. 

"FUCK ME, JAMIE!" Terry yelled, finding his voice. "FUCK ME, JAMIE, FUCK 
ME!" It would only be later that Terry would remember, and marvel, at how he 
had called out somebody else's name besides his father's at that moment of 
orgasm. 

Jamie released his load, his cock continuing to hump the jerking asshole as 
the thick cum blasted deep into an ass still virgin to the feel of hard, 
male cock. The moving rod was flooded with its own wet white juices, the 
opaque deluge sucked out of the ass with each pull of cock out of asshole. 
The run of it trailed the crease of Terry's ass, beading finally in silky 
blond hair. 

They were both a long time in recovering, Jamie's body finally going silent 
on top of Terry. They breathed heavily, waiting for their lungs to suck in 
air, waiting for their hearts to stop pounding quite so frantically in their 
chests. 

"You know," Jamie said finally, his voice low and gravelly, his lips close 
to Terry's ear, "my brother an' me've fooled around a lot, an' it ain't hurt 
us any. So incest really ain't that big a deal, right, man?" 

Terry could thank Jamie for trying to smooth over the eventuality of a 
mating between Terry and his father, but, right now, he was more interested 
in something other than his father's fat cock or ass. 

"Did you say something about letting me fuck you now?" Jamie asked. His 
cock, although webbed in the mess of its own making beneath Terry's belly, 
was by no means yet soft. 

"How 'bout a swim first?" Jamie suggested. 

But Terry didn't want a swim first, and, in a very few seconds, Jamie found 
he didn't really want a swim, either. 

CHAPTER NINE 

Jamie tapped loudly on the car window, laughing when Tyler was startled by 
the noise. 

"Jesus, you scared the shit out of me!" Tyler said, seeing who it was. 

Jamie shrugged, giving indication that he could hear but very little through 
the locked windows and doors. Tyler leaned over the gear box and manually 
opened the door. 

"I said, you scared the shit out of me," Tyler repeated, watching as the boy 
climbed into the passenger seat and closed the door behind him. "Where in 
the hell did you come from? I've been watching the road for the last couple 
of hours." 

"Watching, hell. Looked to me like you was sleepin'." 

"I've been driving all last night and today," Tyler said. "Guess it was a 
bit hard to keep my eyes open. It would have been a fucking shame if I'd 
missed you even after you'd gotten here." 

"You mean, you really drove all that way just to see me?" 

"Isn't that what I said on the phone? With all the driving I've done these 
past couple of days, I never seemed to be able to find another hitchhiker 
quite like you." 

"That's great for my ego, man," Jamie said, "but why didn't you drive on up 
to the lodge instead of havin' me meet you a mile down the road? What if I 
couldn't of gotten away?" 

"I gambled that you could and was apparently lucky enough to win." 

"Shit, we both got lucky," Jamie said. "I almost had to take the train. 
Blane stuck to me like glue this time." 

"I wasn't worrying about your getting away from me. By the way, 
congratulations on your win." 

"Least you been readin' the papers," Jamie said, flashing a wide smile. 
"Guess I did do pretty good for myself huh?" 

"I'd say that, yes." 

"Too bad none of the winnings were in cash. I hate to hafta wait till I'm 
ready for college to collect somethin' I won this year." 

"I would have liked to see it." 

"You coulda been there, you know." 

"No. And don't ask me to explain." 

"You shoulda stuck around to get to know him," Jamie said. "I think you 
mighta liked each other." 

"I'm hungry. What do you say we go get something to eat and then find a 
place to stay the night?" 

"There's a diner a little ways up the road," Jamie said, noticing that Tyler 
seemed determined not to be down into a conversation about his son. "An' 
afterwards, I know just the perfect place to stay the night." He reached 
into his pants pocket, the to wad upthrusting of his hips required in the 
movement showing the boy's swollen cock to good advantage at his crotch. 
Jamie pulled a key free and handed it to Tyler. 

"To the lodge?" Tyler queried curiously. 

"I lifted it soon's I knew I'd be runnin' into an old friend tonight," Jamie 
said. "Thought maybe you'd wanta go back to the scene of the crime." 

Tyler put both of his hands on the wheel and turned away from Jamie to look 
out of the window. 

"You don't understand," Tyler said after a long pause. 

"I think I understand a lot more'n you think." Tyler dropped his hands in 
his lap, leaning his head back into the soft leather of the seat. 

"I didn't drive back all this way to talk about it," Tyler said. 

"No?" 

Tyler turned his gaze back to the boy. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

"Take it for what it's worth." 

"I think you're a little young to be playing psychiatrist." 

"I like him," Jamie said. 

Tyler started the car. 

"Let's get something to eat, shall we?" Tyler asked, the tone of his voice 
indicating that the matter was closed. 

Twice over dinner, Jamie excused himself -- once to take a piss, once to 
make a phone call. Both times he joked with Tyler, stating his bladder 
seemed to get smaller as the night went on. 

"I hope it gives you a rest once we get you to bed," Tyler had countered. 

By the time the meal was finished, Tyler was in a better humor. He'd had one 
Scotch before the meal and another during. He wasn't drunk, but he was 
relaxed. 

They walked back to the car from the diner, Tyler feeling the lodge key 
rubbing against his leg. 

Tyler put the car key in the ignition. The familiar purring of the motor 
rose around them. 

"You're positive there's no one left at the lodge?" Tyler asked. 

"The last bus load shoulda left while we was eatin'. I called from the john 
while I was takin' my second piss. Didn't get no answer." 

"My father?" 

"He left right after the award presentations yesterday afternoon. Had an 
important business meetin' somewhere. Blane an' Tad stayed behind to clean 
up. They went out with the last load. An' Terry took a cab to the airport 
this morning. He's spendin' the summer at some house your old man has in 
Malibu." The part about Terry's having already left was a lie. 

"I know the place," Tyler said, making no other comment. 

"You're a damn fool, Tyler," Jamie said. "He wants you, you know?" 

"I always knew I'd make a raunchy father," Tyler said, pulling the car out 
of the parking lot and onto the highway. "How right I was." 

"He wants you more'n a son wants his father." 

"Stop it, Jamie!" 

"But everything'd be so simple if you'd just let it." 

"I said, stop it!" Tyler repeated. 

"You're still so young to be such a Goddamned old fool," Jamie said. 

Tyler turned the car sharply to the side of the road, braking to a sudden 
stop. 

"I don't want you to say mother thing about my relationship with my son," 
Tyler said. His knuckles were turning white with the pressure of his grip 
upon the wheel. There was sweat on his forehead. "If there's a problem, I'll 
have to take care of it in the best way I know how. Now if you can't do us 
both a big favor and keep your mouth shut, you can get out." 

"You wouldn't even drive me to the train depot for old times' sake?" 

"You are a little bastard!" Tyler said. He put the car in gear and eased it 
back onto the highway. 

The lodge looked deserted when the car pulled to a stop in front of it. 

"You sure you wouldn't prefer the razzle-dazzle, tinsel glitter of your 
local Holiday Inn?" Tyler asked. "This place does seem to look a bit macabre 
in the dark." 

"Thought you liked your sex a little kinky," Jamie smiled, opening the door 
and getting out. "I don't know many guys who go from high speed to fuckin in 
a dirt road." 

"You're too much," Tyler said, getting out of the car. But he had a hard-on 
just the same. And in the darkness, in the shadow of the night, Jamie could 
look very much like Terry -- so very fucking much like him. 

Tyler unlocked the door, and the two went in. Tyler moved to turn on the 
lights, but Jamie stopped him. 

"Let's not spoil the mood, man," Jamie said. 

"I don't know about you," Tyler answered, "but I can't see too well in the 
dark." 

"Follow me," Jamie said, taking Tyler's sleeve and leading the man across 
the room and to the fireplace. Jamie brought down two large candles from the 
mantel. 

"Candles, Jamie? Christ, are you serious?" Tyler asked, obliging by lighting 
the wicks with his gold Cartier lighter. It was surprising how much light 
the two flames made in the darkness. 

"I always did wanna fuck by candlelight in a spooky old lodge," Jamie said. 
"My cock's so hard, it's about to pop my zipper." 

"Your cock is always hard," Tyler observed. 

"Come on," Jamie said, walking away with a candle in each hand. 

"I thought we were going to fuck by that candlelight," Tyler said, 
following. 

"Right. Let's go find a bed." 

"A bed? How ordinary." 

Jamie seemed to know exactly where he was going. Tyler followed, having to 
admit the whole scene was really kind of a turn-on. Jamie opened one of the 
doors, and the two entered a room which was no different from any of the 
other countless rooms in the lodge. There was a bed with springs, mattress, 
but no sheets or blankets. There was a chest of drawers and a couple of 
chairs. Jamie set the candles on the chest of drawers. 

"Let's see if the last guy left somethin'," Jamie said, opening the doors of 
the wall closet. "Hey, good. Here's a coupla dirty undershirts." 

"Why are we in such luck?" Tyler asked. "I thought we were here to shed our 
clothes, not put any on." 

"Yeah, but now I won't hafta rip up my own clothes." 

"Were you planning to rip them?" Tyler asked. "I don't see no rope handy. 
Where else am I gonna get somethin' quick to tie you to the bed while I fuck 
you?" Jamie ripped one shirt, the sound somehow harsh in the silence of the 
room, then closed the distance separating him and Tyler. "That idea turn you 
on? Just a little? It turns me on a lot. Here, feel." He pulled Tyler's hand 
to the bulge of his hard cock. 

"I don't know, Jamie." 

"You ain't afraid, are you?" Jamie asked. "Afraid my slum upbringings'll 
come through once I got you tied up? You wonderin' if I'll freak out? You 
think I'd tie you up an' leave you?" 

"Would you tie me up and leave me?" 

"What the fuck for? There'll be guys here early tomorrow morning to seal 
this place up. If I left you, all you gotta do is scream." 

"You're actually serious about tying me to the bed?" 

"Look at your own cock," Jamie said. "Shit, man, you're as hard as I am. You 
wanna feel what it's like to be tied up an' helpless. You want your ass 
plugged with cock. That's whatcha came back for, ain't it?" 

"I thought I came back to fuck you." 

"Okay, tell you what. You let me tie you to the bed, an' I'll come sit on 
your cock an' bounce away till you get your rocks off." 

Jamie began to strip down. Tyler watched for a few seconds without doing 
anything, and then finally he began to undress, too. Why the hell not? He 
hadn't been disappointed with any of the sex he'd had with Jamie this far. 

The first thing Tyler noticed was that Jamie's days in the sun and the fresh 
air had given the boy's body a healthy color. The smooth flesh was toasted a 
dull bronze which was only enhanced by the light of the room. The youth's 
emerging naked body, aside from the new tan, was just as Tyler remembered 
it. God, it was beautiful -- so fucking young and beautiful. After Tyler had 
had the big blowup with his old man, he had driven all night, eventually 
picking up a young man in the early hours of the next morning. The kid had 
been about twenty-five and good-looking. The sex with him, though, had been 
somehow disappointing. At the time, Tyler had been afraid that he had been 
spoiled by younger men to the point where he wouldn't even be able to ever 
again enjoy sex unless it was with a youngster. Could that really be true? 
If his excitement at seeing Jamie again stripped naked was any real 
indication of the way things were going, Tyler had indeed become someone who 
preferred chicken. 

Jamie sat on the edge of the bed, ripping the T-shirt into strips while 
Tyler finished undressing. 

"Don't tell nobody, but your cock's hard," Jamie said, smiling, finishing 
with his self-assigned chore. He brought the shredded T-shirts with him from 
the bed. He stood so close to Tyler that the man's hard cock left a spot of 
pre-cum on the boy's smooth belly. 

"I'm still not sure I want to put myself at your mercy," Tyler said, knowing 
he wasn't really lying. Yet, there admittedly was something a bit exciting 
about the prospect of being made completely helpless. Tyler couldn't 
remember a time when he'd actually been totally under another man's control. 
What would it feel like? Would Jamie change? Would the kid suddenly turn to 
a Mr. Hyde, begin stuffing all sorts of things up Tyler's vulnerable 
asshole? 

"If you don't dig it, I promise to untie you," Jamie said. "Come on, stud, 
be a sport." 

Jamie took Tyler's hand and led the man to the bed. Tyler came, but he did 
so reluctantly. 

"Jamie, I'm really not sum I can go through with this." 

"Don't trust me, do you?" Jamie pouted. "You think this poor slum kid's just 
been waitin' all his life for the chance to tie up some rich WASP an' work 
him over good." 

"I think I know you a little better than to think something quite as 
ridiculous as that." 

"Yeah? Wouldn't take much for you to prove it." 

"I feel like a fool, Jamie," Tyler said, sinking to sit on the bed and then 
obligingly falling back on the mattress. "I never dreamed when I put that 
call through to you this morning that I'd be tied to a bed by you this 
evening." 

"What's the fun if you always know what's gonna happen?" Jamie asked. "The 
kick's in doin' new stuff." 

"You grow up quick in my neighborhood. Ever tell you that?" 

"Yeah, you told me," Tyler said. 

Jamie looked down on the bed where Tyler had positioned himself in 
preparation for receiving the bonds Jamie had ripped from two old T-shirts 
to secure him. The boy took a few quick seconds to enjoy the perfection of 
the man's body -- the domed pectorals, the wash board belly, the hard cock, 
the bagged balls, the powerful thighs and legs. God, Tyler was one beautiful 
stud! Tyler had it all -- or almost all. Soon he would no longer find 
himself wanting for much of anything. 

Jamie splayed Tyler's legs, tying them separately to opposite sides of the 
foot of the bed. He then walked around to the head of the bed. 

"You can back outta this now if you really wanta," Jamie said. "But if you 
don't, stud, I guarantee you're gonna have an experience that'll blow your 
mind." 

"I've come this far," Tyler said. "Why stop now? I haven't been disappointed 
in anything you've suggested in the past. I only hope I won't end up being 
disappointed with this." 

"You won't," Jamie said. "Believe me, man, you won't." 

Jamie first tied both of Tyler's wrists together and then, having Tyler 
stretch his arms up along the bed over his head, Jamie secured the strips of 
T-shirt to the headboard. 

"Comfortable?" Jamie asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed and running 
his fingers down Tyler's chest, over his belly, skirting both the cock and 
the balls to run along the man's right thigh. The huge cock on Tyler's belly 
pulsed. 

"As comfortable as possible, considering the position I suddenly find myself 
in," Tyler said. He'd had thoughts in the beginning that he could probably 
break free at any time no matter how well Jamie tied him. However, now he 
wasn't so sure. As easily as Jamie had ripped the material, he had somehow 
twisted it to make it stronger, and his knots, if not as professionally tied 
as they might have been, did show all indications of being able to keep 
Tyler sufficiently anchored in place no matter how hard the man might 
suddenly begin to struggle. 

"Now, I'm gonna leave you," Jamie said. He laughed when he saw the confusion 
and possible fear etched suddenly on Tyler's handsome face. "Hey, stud, 
don't panic. I'm only gonna take a quick piss." 

"That bladder of yours giving you trouble again?" Tyler asked, relieved at 
Jamie's excuse. For a second, just a quick second, all sorts of things had 
shot through Tyler's mind. So, why was his cock still so rock-hard? 

Jamie left the bed and walked to the dresser. He blew out first one of the 
candles and then the other. Darkness flooded into the room. Through eyes 
that hadn't yet adjusted, Tyler watched Jamie walked to the door. Tyler was 
going to ask why the lights had been extinguished, but Jamie spoke first. 

"Don't go away now, willya?" Jamie asked the amusement of his voice carrying 
across to Tyler despite the shadows that concealed the smile on the boy's 
face. 

The door opened and shut silently behind Jamie. Tyler heard the footsteps in 
the hallway outside, listened until they faded. He waited in the dark room, 
trying to estimate how long Jamie was gone, how long it would take Jamie to 
walk to the bathroom down the hall, take a leak, walk back. He took the 
opportunity to try his hand at his bonds. As he'd suspected, they held, 
actually seemed to get tighter as he strained against them. He decided there 
would be little point in trying any harder than he already had. If Jamie 
didn't come back, there would be plenty of time to attempt his strong-man 
routine with a bit more gusto. Right now, he might as well relax and enjoy. 

Time seemed to drag. Tyler quickly lost track of it. Jamie had left Tyler's 
wristwatch on his arm, but it was impossible for Tyler to see it. And why in 
the hell had Jamie turned off the lights? Tyler's eyes had adjusted somewhat 
to the new dimness, but the absence of light made fears rise that might have 
been held in check with even a couple flickering candle flames. 

Tyler looked down over his chest. On his belly, he could see his cock. It 
was as hard as it had been when he'd taken off his clothes. Any fears Tyler 
did have were apparently not strong enough to soften his hard-on. In fact, 
if anything, they were actually stimulants to make his dick go even harder 
than it already was. 

It was a new sensation for Tyler to be helpless. He'd always been a big kid, 
capable of taking care of himself. He'd been in his share of fights, and 
he'd won those few that had mattered. He'd been able to take care of a 
couple tough-eased bullies in his time before they could even deliver any 
effective blows, and here he was now, made completely helpless by a young 
kid who didn't look as if he was even dry behind the ears. 

More minutes passed. Surely, the kid could have finished his piss by now. 
He'd taken a couple trips to the bathroom back at the diner, and that hadn't 
been all that long ago. Off somewhere in the distance, Tyler thought he 
finally heard a noise. Jamie? Or was it merely the building settling? 

Then there were the footsteps. At first, since he'd been anticipating them 
for so long, he thought these were only his imagination. Then he heard tern 
more distinctly, knew when they paused outside his door. 

"Jamie? For God's sake, what did you do, take time for a sit, too?" 

There was no answer. Tyler heard rather than saw the doorknob turn. Still, 
the door didn't immediately open. 

"I thought we were going to fuck, you little bastard?" 

More silence. Tyler waited, listened, could tell by the faint movement that 
Jamie was still just outside of the door. Tyler waited. What else could he 
do? There was something to be said for the waiting. Tyler couldn't know how 
well Jamie was actually calculating all of this, but Tyler was really 
sexually excited. If he'd been able to get his hand free at the moment, he 
would have taken hold of his cock and started to pump it -- hard. 

The door creaked as it came open, revealing as it did so the shadow of the 
young boy who'd been standing behind it. 

"You little bastard, you've got me hornier than hell," Tyler said, giving a 
nervous laugh of relief. 

No matter how much he'd told himself it had been just the boy behind the 
door, his mind couldn't help having imagined it would be someone or 
something else. Now that Tyler could see the silhouette of the youthful 
body, the thick tousled blond hair that was evident even in the dim light, 
Tyler was ashamed of his doubts. Christ, he was a grown man and shouldn't 
have been afraid of the dark! 

The figure in the doorway approached slowly. Tyler squinted to get a better 
look. There was something, something about this that Tyler found horribly 
exciting. 

"Jamie?" Tyler asked. The boy had reached the bed. Tyler felt the give of 
the springs beneath his ass as the youth crawled into position between his 
splayed legs. "Aren't you going to say anything? Not even apologize for 
taking so long and making me think the worst?" 

There was no reply. A hand reached out, almost tentatively, for Tyler's 
cock. Fingers glided over the rod, barely touching before pulling away. 
Tyler didn't know why, but that brief caress was more of a sexual turn-on 
than it would have been had the hand fisted about the cock as Tyler had 
expected it to. 

"Don't be shy," Tyler said, hoping to coax the fingers back to his cock. 
God, the kid sure knew how to turn a man on -- first the uniqueness of tying 
Tyler to the bed, and now acting as if he'd never even touched another man's 
cock before. "You should know by now that it's not going to bite." 

Tyler felt the boy's hands on his thighs, gently running through the hairs 
there. The fingers petted up and down, never touching the cock but affecting 
it nevertheless. The big dong thumped against Tyler's belly. 

Tyler wished he had a pillow to prop behind his head so he could more easily 
see what was happening down between his opened thighs. The way it was, his 
neck hurt after a while, and he had to let his head press back into the 
mattress. Above him was the ceiling. 

Fingers bit into the muscles of Tyler's thighs. The man lifted his head, 
looking down his chest and belly, seeing the blond hair as the youth bent 
over Tyler's belly. A tongue licked Tyler's stomach, dragging wetness over 
the man's navel. It licked again, closer to the cock but not yet claiming 
it. 

"If you don't take it pretty soon, it's going to cream without you," Tyler 
said, wiggling his body in an effort to get his cock up to those lips that 
were butterfly-kissing over his belly. 

When the boy's lips did close in on Tyler's cock, the man almost did cream. 
He fought for control, his hips bucking as the hungry mouth fell down to 
claim the knob and a couple of fat inches. 

"Oh, Christ, stud, you've got me hot and horny," Tyler mumbled, feeling the 
spit ooze out of the sucking mouth to soak his cock with moisture. Tyler's 
head was back on the bed, his eyes staring toward the ceiling once more. 

The cock was sucked, on only long enough to get it sapped with spit. It was 
then released from the siphoning mouth to fall, with a resounding thud, back 
to Tyler's belly. 

The bedsprings gave again as the youth crawled up over Tyler's lower body, 
moving into a kneeling position over Tyler's belly. The raised ass was 
poised over Tyler's cock. 

Fingers again wrapped Tyler's dick, pulling the spit-drenched tool upward 
from the belly. Tyler felt the young blond's ass lowering, felt the young 
blond's buns slipping to hug the knob of the cock as it pressed through the 
ass crease and found the hung. 

"Take me, Jamie!" Tyler grunted, heaving his hips upward in an effort to 
drive his rod deeply up the boy's ass. "Take me all the way down to my 
belly." 

The ass began to sink, the hung opening for the cockhead, opening wider to 
take in part of the cockshaft. 

"Jesus!" Tyler grunted. He'd known Jamie's ass was tight, but he never 
remembered it being this tight. Tyler would have liked to put his hands on 
those young hips to yank the body down even faster. He even forgot his hands 
were tied and tried to do just that. 

The asshole continued to swallow up the cock, sinking until the boy's buns 
hit bottom, smashing into Tyler's lower belly. It hadn't been one continual 
slide from knob to balls. The youth had paused twice to let his ass adjust 
to the plugging. Tyler was surprised that Jamie had to take his cock by 
stages when he'd long ago learned how to take it in one slide, but, again, 
the unexpectedness of the maneuver only increased Tyler's excitement. 

The boy leaned forward over Tyler's body, the palms of his hands flattening 
over the hardness of Tyler's nipples. The boy lifted his hips, dragging free 
the ass from the cock it had just managed to completely claim. The butt 
reared upward until its hole was only clogged by the head of Tyler's cock. 
It then began its downward slide again, this time -- aided by the spit and 
natural lubricant oozed onto the ass walls by the cock -- the butt managed 
to go from the knob to the balls in one complete and uninterrupted slide. 

"Ride me, stud," Tyler pleaded. "Jesus, ride me!" 

The boy did. Once his ass had become adjusted to the big prick, the youth 
was able to easily begin a fucking rhythm. His hands on Tyler's chest for 
support, the blond pulled and pushed his ass over Tyler's cock. The mouth of 
his bung concaved with each sliding home of the cock, convexing each time 
the shaft of the cock slipped free. 

God, Jamie was a wizard! If Tyler had been a bit dubious about whether he 
could derive any pleasure from being lashed to a bed and worked over by a 
young teenager, he'd had another think coming. Not since he had fucked Jamie 
on that dirt road could he recall anything to compare to the intensity of 
this moment. Through blurred eyes, he saw the still-dark silhouette of the 
youth bouncing over his cock. 

"So good. So good," Tyler moaned, his head rocking on the bed, his tongue 
wetting his passion-dried lips. 

"I told you you'd like it," Jamie answered. 

"Yes, God, yes," Tyler mumbled, and then the realization hit him. It had 
been Jamie who had just spoken, but the voice had come not from the figure 
bouncing on his prick but from the periphery of the room. Tyler turned his 
head in that direction, wondering if his eyes were playing tricks on him. 
Was the pleasure beginning to make him hallucinate? 

A match flickered in the darkness, revealing Jamie's face and the candles on 
the chest of drawers. The wick of one candle caught flame. 

Tyler couldn't believe it, couldn't actually understand. How could Jamie be 
there now, smiling at him, candle in hand, walking toward the bed, when 
Jamie's butt was still bouncing over his cock? 

"We went to an awful lotta trouble to work this out after you called," Jamie 
said. "I wantcha to know that." 

Tyler was beset by conflicting emotions. On the one hand, he wanted the fuck 
to cease so he wouldn't be so distracted and could think. On the other hand, 
he wanted his sexual release, in fact desperately needed it. What in the 
hell was happening? 

Samie sat on the edge of the bed, balancing the candle on his knee. He ran 
his free hand over the man's chest and belly, up to Tyler's neck and face. 
He traced the line of Tyler's sensuous lips. 

"You know whose room this was?" Jamie asked. The candlelight seemed to catch 
in his hair and hold there, giving a halo effect. "It was Terry's. You know 
whose T-shirts those are tyin' you to the bed? Terry's." 

"Stop it!" Tyler said. He didn't want to hear any more, but he knew he 
would. There was more, and he would have to hear it. 

"You know whose ass you're fuckin' now?" 

"Jesus, no," Tyler mumbled. "Sweet, Jesus, no." 

"Terry's." Jamie said. "Terry's." 

Jamie lifted the candle so that Tyler could see the face of the boy whose 
ass was riding over his cock. It was Terry. It was Tyler's son. Tyler's cock 
was jabbed deep up his own son's ass! Terry's eyes looked gazed with 
pleasure, his face flushed, his body glossed with sweat that glowed in the 
pale light. He didn't stop his fucking motions. He continued to ride his 
father's cock. 

"See whatcha both been missin'?" Jamie asked. 

"No," Tyler moaned. "Please, no." 

Tyler fought for control. He couldn't let himself come, could he? He just 
couldn't -- as if his abstinence might actually counteract the fact that he 
had already come too far with his cock up his own son's asshole. Maybe 
something could be salvaged if he just didn't blast. Why in the hell was 
Terry continuing with the fuck? Couldn't Terry see the implications of what 
they were doing? 

"Just relax," Jamie said, his hand working beneath Terry's rising and 
falling ass, taking hold of Tyler's compacted balls. "Let it come. You want 
it. I want it. Terry wants it." 

"NO!" Tyler screamed helplessly, but protests were to no avail. 

Tyler's nuts erupted, exploded hot bullets of cum up his son's twitching 
ass. The father grunted and groaned, caught in a webbing of ecstasy that 
refused to release him. He rode the waves of pleasure, fighting to free 
himself from the bonds that held his arms and legs. All he succeeded in 
doing was jerking his exploding cock up his son's tight young asshole. 

Jamie watched the spasming of the father and the spasming of the son. 
Terry's cock had erupted during Tyler's throes of ecstasy. The boy's spunk 
pulsed free of his cock and splattered to globes of whiteness on Tyler's 
belly. The room was filled with sounds of males in orgasm. 

Jamie used his fingers to rub in the cum Terry had splattered on Tyler's 
chest and belly. The mess was warm and wet between his fingers. He was 
content. Blane and Greg had possibly been right after all. Maybe there was a 
way to get out of the slums and stay out. And maybe Jamie had found just the 
ticket to take him out first-class. Tyler and Terry would help him. Hadn't 
he been the one responsible for fulfilling their wildest fantasies? 

W.J. Franklander would be appreciative, aside from the college scholarship. 
Jamie had won during the old man's competitions. Hadn't Jamie done what the 
grandfather couldn't do -- given the son back to the father and vice versa? 

"Untie me," Tyler said, his voice weak from the throes of the orgasm which 
had just shaken him. 

"What's the hurry?" Jamie asked, his fingers still trailing in the mess made 
by Terry's exploded cum. "Your son an' me still got a few more surprises for 
you. Right, Terry?" 

"A lot of surprises," Terry said, his own voice breathless after his 
ecstatic ride on his father's erupting cock. 

"Why don'tcha just lie there an' relax, Tyler," Jamie said. "The good 
times're just startin'." 

And Jamie was right. They had! 


THE END
