I found him by the lake, sitting on a rock and tossing stones into the water. “Hi,” I said. “I’m Tom.”
He nodded. “Brian,” he said, his voice soft and low, unlike mine, which was starting to break with alarming frequency.
“That was great what you did in there,” I said. “I mean really great.”
Brian grinned. “It was kind of cool, seeing Hayes fall on his ass,” he laughed. “He had it coming.”
I sat down next to him, and we started to talk. Brian was thirteen and lived on a small dairy farm. He had won a trip to camp from the local 4-H club. He missed his dog, a big bear of a mutt named Sam, and hated almost everything about camp except the lake. I in turn told him about my running battle with my older sister, my father’s job at the steel mill, and my secret wish to someday pitch for the Yankees.
For the next week and a half, Brian and I did everything together. We were like two sides of the same coin—he light and I dark. For both of us, the horrors of camp were lessened by each other’s company. After that first run-in with Hayes, the other boys kept Brian at a safe distance, and by association with him I was viewed as an equally dangerous animal. Because we didn’t cause any trouble, the counselors were content to leave us to our own amusements as long as we were back at the cabin before lights out, and we spent the days exploring the forests or paddling around the lake in a stolen canoe we hid in the weeds.
On the Thursday before camp was to end, everyone went on an overnight camping trip to an island about an hour from the camp. By hiding under the cabin, we managed to elude our counselor, who was so busy trying to keep thirty boys under control that he didn’t notice our absence. Once they were gone, we came out and looked around the empty cabin happily. We had it all to ourselves for one night.
“What shall we do?” I asked Brian.
He grinned at me. “Skinny-dipping. Last one to the lake is a rotten egg!”
Brian grabbed a towel and was out the door and down the path to the water before I could even start. As I followed him, a trail of scattered clothes marked his progress—shirt, shorts, and shoes discarded as he ran. By the time I got to the shore I was just in time to see the pale moon of his backside as he jumped with a whoop into the lake. His body slipped into the water, sending up a splash as he disappeared below the surface.
I quickly shed my own clothes and followed him. The water was cold, but the feeling of swimming without clothes was wonderfully exciting, the water slipping freely around my dick and balls. I dived under and swam toward Brian, catching a glimpse of his skin through the murky darkness. But before I could reach him, he disappeared. I came up for air and looked around but couldn’t find him. Suddenly he burst up next to me. “Gotcha,” he yelled, and put his hands on my shoulders, pushing me down.
As I swept past his body on my way down, I felt his cock brush against my ass and back, my hands scraping his legs. This contact made my own dick stir, and as I swam back to the surface I wondered if he had felt the same thing. In the way that boys do, I had sometimes questioned what his dick looked like, if it was bigger or smaller than mine. But now that I had felt its physical presence between his legs and the feelings it stirred in me, I wanted another look.
Brian was paddling in place when I broke through the water’s skin. “It’s getting cold in here,” he said. “What do you say we go in?”
I nodded, and we swam to the shore. As we emerged from the water, we avoided looking at each other, and I wondered if Brian was thinking about the same thing I was. Wrapping our towels around us, we ran back to the cabin. Once we were inside, we dried off roughly. Brian dropped the towel and sat on the edge of his bunk, hugging himself with his arms. “Christ, that water was freezing,” he said.
Now that he was sitting still, I got to look at his dick for the first time. Between his legs, his balls had shrunk and pulled up close to his body, the wrinkled skin prickled like gooseflesh and slightly bluish. His cock was shriveled into itself, the pink head sitting in a nest of soft skin. His pubic hair shaded his crotch with a fine golden spray so different from the dark shadow that was just beginning to come in around my own dick.
Looking at Brian’s cock, I remembered how it felt rubbing against my back in the lake. I wanted to touch it, but I didn’t know what he would do if I did. I dropped my own towel and sat down next to him, not saying anything. When I looked over, I saw that he was staring at my dick, too.
Nervously I reached out and gently cupped his balls in my hand. They felt strangely small, like acorns in their tight sac of flesh. His skin was still damp with lake water, and the skin beneath his ballsac was cool and slightly gritty with sand from where he had dried himself with his towel. Brian spread his legs wider and pushed his cock up into my palm. Without looking over, he placed his hand on my stomach and moved it down my groin. He stopped when he reached my dick, as if he didn’t know what to do next. Finally, he wrapped his fingers around the head, rolling it around in his palm.
I lay there with Brian’s dick in my hand, feeling for the first time a cock other than my own. I had played with myself enough times to know what it was like, but touching another boy’s dick filled me with a new kind of excitement, a feeling of warmth that crept along my skin as I felt Brian’s blood beat under my hand.
Brian’s eyes were closed, as if he was holding his breath. I looked down at his cock in my hand. It was beginning to stiffen as I caressed it, stretching up from his hairless balls. The tip was flushed a deep pink, and a drop of precum glistened against the lips. Brian reached over to his shelf and picked a bottle of hand cream. “It’s for mosquito bites,” he said. “But it should work.”
He squeezed some of the pale green liquid into my hand, and I smeared it up and down his cock. The lotion was smooth and cool, and my hand slid easily up and down the length of Brian’s dick, jerking him off. After a few minutes, I felt his dick swelling inside my fist, and suddenly he gasped. A spray of sticky cum shot over my hand, and I felt the warmth of his jism on my skin.
I released Brian’s softening prick and sucked on my finger, tasting the salty slickness of his spunk on my tongue. Brian was lying back, his mouth in a half smile. My own cock was standing straight out, rock hard from the excitement of giving my first hand job. I started to jerk off, but Brian stopped me. Pushing me back against the bed, he wiped a mixture of cum and hand cream off his belly and used it to stroke my dick until I came, my body shuddering so intensely I thought I might crumble into dust.
Afterward, we lay holding each other, feeling the afternoon sunlight soaking into our skins. That night we stayed out late, searching the skies for bats before falling into Brian’s bunk exhausted and happy. We spent the night together, our arms around each other as we slept alone in the cabin. When the rest of the camp returned the next morning we got holy hell for skipping the overnighter, but it was worth it.
Neither one of us ever discussed what had happened, taking it I suppose as a natural part of growing up. Camp was over in two days, and we never got the chance to repeat our lovemaking. And despite promises to write afterward, we never did.
But now Brian was standing in front of me, just as if he’d never left. His face was wider, and he sported a closely trimmed beard, but his eyes were still bright blue and his hair, while cut short, was still the color of late-summer corn. He had grown into a big man, standing well over six feet with broad shoulders and a chest that filled out his blue work shirt well and muscular legs that looked great in the faded jeans he was wearing.
He looked up from the piece of paper he was holding and started to ask me something. Then he stopped and stared intently for a few seconds until recognition flashed across his face and he broke into a smile. “I’ll be goddamned,” he said. “Tom Caffrey.”
I reached over and shook his hand, his fingers closing around mine in a firm grip. “You’ve grown up a little bit since the last time I saw you,” I said.
Brian laughed. “You’ve done some filling out of your own. Looks like you’
ve turned into a regular woodsman.”
“Hey, if you’re going to sell this stuff you have to know how to use it.”
“This is your store?” he asked.
“Well, mine and the bank’s. What brings you in here?”
“A little business of my own. I run wilderness tours for executive types. Heard about the mountains up here and thought they might make a good spot for my next trip. Thought I’d check it out myself first. I just got in and need to pick up a few things before I head up.”
“Sounds just like the sort of thing you’d get into. What do you need?”
Brian smoothed out the list he had crumpled when he shook my hand. “Just some small stuff I forgot to bring. Lantern wick, bug spray, that kind of crap.”
I looked at Brian’s hand. There was no wedding band on his finger, and I hadn’t seen anyone come in with him, but that didn’t mean he was alone. I wasn’t sure if he still went in for what we did in the cabin twenty years before, but I sure did and I wanted badly to find out just how much he’d grown up.
“You going up there alone?” I asked cautiously.
He nodded. “Yeah, all by myself. You remember how it was—the great loner. Besides, not too many people want to sleep in a tent with a guy who snores.” He made loud sawing sounds and laughed.
“Well,” I said. “It just so happens I know those mountains pretty well, and I wouldn’t mind getting out of this place for a night. Besides, I can get you a good deal on the stuff you need. I know the owner. What do you say?”
Brian grinned. “I’d say that would be just fine. What time do you want to head out?”
“Meet me back here at three. It should only take an hour or so to get up where we want to be, and then we’ll have the whole night to catch up.”
Brian said good-bye and left the store, promising to be back in a few hours. Right at three, I heard his truck pull up and he came in. After checking with my assistant to make sure she knew where everything was, I grabbed the equipment I’d gathered together and headed out.
Riding in Brian’s truck up through the mountain roads, I found out more about his life since we’d parted. After high school he’d joined the army. Given his dislike of anything approaching being told what to do, this surprised me. But the army had trained him to be a ranger, and once his tour was over he’d started his business, which by all accounts was doing very well. He made no mention of any romantic attachments and never asked me about mine.
The spot I wanted to show him was up a crude dirt path the locals called a road but anyone else would call a washout. Brian’s truck clawed its way patiently upward, though, and it wasn’t long before we pulled into a level area hidden behind a stand of towering spruce trees. The trees formed a windbreak for a grassy clearing, and there was a small mountain lake filled by a narrow waterfall that crashed down from a break in the rocks.
Brian was more than impressed by my secret find and walked around nodding his head and smiling. “Tom, my boy, I think you have found paradise,” he said solemnly, patting me on the back.
“I thought you might like it,” I said. “No one around for miles, and your very own swimming hole.”
Brian had a small tent that, once it was framed together and sitting up, looked like a green uprising in the grass that surrounded it. Once we had spread our sleeping bags out and put the rest of our gear safely inside, we lay in the grass staring up at the sky.
“It makes me feel thirteen again,” Brian said, a blade of grass between his teeth.
“I know what you mean,” I said. “You do feel small out here.”
Brian sat up and looked over at me. “Let’s go swimming in the lake, like we used to do at camp.”
He stood up and started taking off his shoes. When he had them off, he started running for the water. “Last one in’s a rotten egg,” he bellowed.
As I chased after him, I became twelve again. His clothes, bigger now but thrown aside with the same childish abandon, were strewn over the grass where he had run by. I saw him pause at the edge of the water, his ass pale as it was when he was a boy, and dive in. Once more I followed him, the water closing over my head and taking me back twenty years.
When I came up, Brian was floating a few feet away. “Colder than it looks, isn’t it?” he said. “Hard to believe we didn’t turn into ice cubes swimming in this stuff. Better move around or you’ll freeze solid.”
We swam around for a while, but neither of us initiated any playful games, and I resigned myself to the fact that Brian and I weren’t the same boys we had been back in camp. Still, it was relaxing to be in the water, floating peacefully and knowing that Brian’s cock was somewhere below the dark glass of the lake. If I couldn’t have him, I could at least fantasize about it.
Then a fat drop fell squarely on my face, and more followed. Looking up, I saw angry black clouds scuttling over the sun.
“Looks like we’d better head in,” I called to Brian.
We swam to shore and hurried out of the water, racing for the tent. We got inside just as the heavens opened up, zipping the flap closed and hearing the rain hit the canvas above us.
Brian was sitting on his sleeping bag, toweling off his head. I did the same, warming up as I wiped the water off my skin. When I’d finished, I looked at Brian. He was watching me intently, sitting with his legs pulled up, leaning forward and resting his hands on his knees. His thick forearms were covered in soft golden hair, as was his chest. A trail of it spilled down his rippled abdomen, splashing into a pool of bush between his thighs. His cock hung down over heavy balls, the thick shaft ending in a fat tip that was slowly growing thicker.
Brian leaned forward and without a word crawled across the few feet that separated us. Putting a hand on my chest, he pushed me back and slid on top of me. I put my hands on his back and felt the heat and muscle rippling beneath his skin. Pulling him down, I felt the hair on his chest press against my own, mingling like shadows and light. His face was over mine, and he leaned down and kissed me, his lips parting to draw my tongue in.
I wrapped one leg around Brian’s body, pulling him tighter into me. He ran his mouth over my face, kissing my cheeks and biting softly at my chin before moving down my neck. My hands traveled over his body, feeling the curves of his muscular ass, slipping into his crack and then under him to feel his stiff cock. Now fully erect, it pressed against my stomach as he rubbed his body up and down.
As Brian sucked intently on my nipple, I kneaded his balls, running my finger along the area behind his nuts and sliding it gently into his asshole. He groaned as I pressed against his pucker, pushing me deeper into him until he’d taken in most of my finger and I cupped his balls in my palm. He ground his ass against me, inviting me to fuck him harder. Soon I was sliding in and out on his ass juices and a steady stream was flowing from his cock onto my belly as I milked his insides.
Brian slid off my hand and knelt between my legs, pushing them apart with his knees. Taking my aching prick in one big hand, he began to jerk slowly while sucking on the head, his lips moving in time with his hand motions, his beard tickling my shaft. As my cock slid in and out of his throat, I thought about the time we’d made love. Since then I’d had my prick buried in a lot of asses, but none of them ever felt quite like that first time with Brian had. And over the years a lot of guys had wanted to plow my butt, but I never let them. I didn’t really know why; something just wasn’t right. But now I understood.
“Brian,” I whispered. “I want you to fuck me.”
Brian looked up at me, my cock still in his hand. “Are you sure?”
I nodded. “I’ve been waiting for this for twenty years.”
Brian turned and rummaged in a backpack next to the sleeping bag. He pulled out a familiar-looking plastic bottle. “Well,” he said. “I guess it’s a good thing I brought this, then.”
He flipped the top on the bottle and squirted some liquid into his palm. Once I smelled it, I knew just what it was—the same hand lotion we’d used the fir
st time.
I laughed. “Old habits die hard, huh?”
Brian smiled. “I use it to jack off with. Reminds me of old times.”
He coated his prick with the lotion, then ran his hand along my ass crack. His finger found the opening to my chute and pressed in, sliding easily on the thick cream. He went slowly, turning his finger and loosening my tight muscle until I relaxed. Then he pulled out, put my legs up over his shoulders, and pressed the tip of his cock against my waiting hole. Pressing forward, he slid in in one smooth movement, his thick cock stretching me and bringing tears to my eyes. I thought he’d never get the whole thing in, but soon I felt his balls brushing my ass and he stopped.
I breathed slowly, letting myself get used to his prick in my ass. Despite the pain, it felt great having Brian buried in me. I felt his cock twitch, felt his hands on my thighs pulling me closer. Then he began to fuck me, pulling out slowly and pressing back in in steady rhythm. As he did I jerked off, my hand matching the movements of his thrusts, my balls slapping softly against my fist when Brian pushed into me all the way.
He pushed my legs back toward my chest, his hands under my knees, so that he had a full view of his cock slipping in and out of my asshole. His motions became harder and deeper, his prick filling me again and again as he reached places I never knew existed. I could feel the pressure in my balls mount as I let myself open to Brian’s cock. His prick was bringing me to the boiling point, and every time he slapped against my ass I was coming closer.
Finally, he pounded into me one last time and the spunk flew from my nuts, coating my chest and neck as I gasped for breath. Brian wrapped his arms around my legs and pulled me forward, at the same time plunging into me. With a loud grunt, he came deep inside me, his prick flooding me with its cargo of hot cum.
Tangled Sheets Page 19
