Tangled Sheets

by Michael Thomas Ford

  “Thank you,” he said, looking quickly at my ticket and handing it back in one huge hand. His fingers were long and thick, and his arms were covered with the same burnished golden hair as on his head. After checking the rest of the tickets, he moved on to the next row.

  “I love taking Jon’s train,” the woman across from me said to her friend. “He really makes sitting here a lot easier to take.” I completely agreed with her but didn’t say anything. Instead, I closed my eyes and tried to fall asleep again. But all I could see was Jon’s face and those blue eyes. I wondered if his chest under his white shirt was as hairy as his arms and felt my cock start stirring in my pants.

  Quickly, I shifted the briefcase on my lap, hoping no one would notice my unruly dick acting up. I tried to get Jon’s face out of my head, but as the train rolled on beside the river I continued to think about him. My rock-hard cock was pressing against my groin, and my balls felt trapped inside my boxers. I desperately wanted to jerk off and couldn’t wait to get home, where I could lie on my bed and shoot a load off thinking about the hunky ticket puncher.

  Finally, the train started to make its stops. Beechwood, Irvington, Briarcliff Manor. As each stop neared, Jon’s voice came over the loudspeaker, waking those who were dozing and reminding passengers to take all of their belongings with them when leaving the train. Every time his deep baritone rang through the car I felt a tug in my nuts.

  The train emptied a little more at each stop, and finally I was alone in the car. I stretched out, putting my feet up on the seat across from mine. Now that there was no one to see me, I put my hand between my legs, lazily massaging my aching balls through my pants and daydreaming about Jon.

  The train bounced over a bump in the tracks, and I opened my eyes. Jon was sitting in the seat across from me, watching me intently. One hand was resting on his obviously hard cock, the fingers rubbing the head where it lay halfway down his thigh. He had a big grin on his face. “You know you’re not supposed to put your feet up on the seats, don’t you?” he said slowly. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to fine you for that.”

  He leaned over and pulled the tie from around my neck, letting it slide around my throat. Then, taking my hands in his powerful grip, he wrapped the silk around my wrists, tying my hands together. Pulling them over my head, he wrapped the other end of the tie around the lower bar of the steel frame that rose out of the back of the seat to hold cardboard advertising posters. While it didn’t hurt me, I knew that I wouldn’t be able to break the knot he had tied. All I could do was sit there looking up at him.

  I was afraid someone would come in and see us, but Jon seemed unconcerned. Outside, I could see the summer landscape flashing by in a blur of green, but inside all there was was the deep blue of Jon’s eyes as they stared into mine. Slowly, he undid the buttons on my shirt and pulled it open. He ran his hands over my chest, pinching my nipples slightly as his fingers moved over them. Then he untied my shoes and pulled them off along with my socks. Finally, he unbuttoned my pants, removing them and my shorts in one quick motion and tossing them on the floor of the train.

  Freed from its prison, my cock stuck straight up toward my chest, my balls slipping down between my spread legs to rest on the cool vinyl of the seat. As a result of all my fantasizing, a string of precum was dripping from the tip of my dick, forming a silvery spiderweb between my cockhead and my stomach. I wanted badly to stroke my throbbing meat, but all I could do was wait and see what happened next.

  Jon sat down and looked me up and down. He unbuckled the black leather belt at his waist and pulled the zipper of his blue uniform pants down slowly. Then, shifting his hips forward, he slid the pants off, pushing them down his thighs. He wasn’t wearing underwear, and as his pants moved down his legs more and more of his cock was revealed. It was as thick as my wrist, with a head the size of a lemon. His stomach was covered with thick dark brown hair, but his balls were smooth and bare, hanging heavily beneath his stiff prick.

  Once his pants were off, Jon shed his shirt, exposing a well-built chest with nipples that stood out against his tanned skin. As I’d hoped, it was also covered with thick swirls of fur. Still wearing his hat, he leaned back in his seat, placing one foot on either side of me so that I had a good view of his prick. Wrapping his fingers around his thick piece, he began to jerk off slowly, letting his hand slide gently up the shaft and then squeezing the head before traveling back toward his balls. As he milked his cock, precum began to drip from the lips of his swollen dickhead. He wiped some away with his fingers and worked it into the skin of his prick. Soon the length of his dick glistened wetly with his juice.

  Watching this hunk stroke his cock was making me horny as hell, and the fact that I couldn’t touch him made me even hotter. I couldn’t keep my eyes off his hand as it moved up and down his hard-on, thinking about what it would be like to have him inside me. My own prick was begging to be stroked, too, but the knot that held the tie around my wrists only got tighter the more I pulled against it. The fucker must have been one hell of a Boy Scout.

  Jon was really enjoying watching how worked up I was getting. As he pumped his meat with one hand, the other worked his tits, rubbing his nipples between his fingers and tugging at them until they were as hard as rocks. Then, smiling wickedly, he spread his legs even more, putting a foot on the armrests on either side of me. Hefting his bull balls in one hand, he pulled them up, holding them against his cock like a bunch of flowers. His meaty ass cheeks were spread, giving me a look at the rosy hole at their center.

  Squeezing some more cock juice from his shaft, Jon wet one long finger and ran it under his nuts and down toward his asshole. Still pumping his prick, he slipped his finger in between the lips of his tight cherry, slowly turning it as he penetrated his ass. As I watched Jon fuck himself, my nuts almost blew, despite the fact that no one was touching them. Jon’s finger slid slowly in and out, matching the rhythm of the train as it traveled over the tracks, pushing his hips up until his whole finger was buried inside his hole. The shadows coming in the window ran over his body like a film on a wall, bathing him in flickering light as if I were watching him under water.

  As he fingered himself faster, pushing his finger deeper and deeper between his legs, I could feel the heat from his skin where he lay close to my body. But every time I would move so that he was touching me, Jon would pull away, keeping himself just out of my reach. He was stretching his ballsac, rolling his nuts around in his hand and slapping his hard prick against his stomach while he worked on his ass. The sight of this big stud fucking his own asshole was almost more than I could take.

  Finally, when I thought I couldn’t stand it anymore and was about to beg him to untie me, he stood up and turned around. Placing his hands on either side of the seat, he leaned over, pushing his hairy ass right at my face. I watched it come toward me, waiting to bury my face between his hot mounds. But Jon stopped just before the smooth curve of his delicious butt reached my mouth.

  Pulling against the tie, I leaned forward and ran the tip of my tongue over the warm skin of Jon’s ass, feeling the rough hair, tasting his sweat. I traced the line of his muscular cheeks and licked as far as I could down his leg, wanting more than anything to stick my tongue into his man crack and taste what was waiting in there.

  Jon pushed back a little more, just enough for me to get my nose in between his ass cheeks. I was rewarded with the rich scent of his musk, so strong it clung to my face where I pressed against him. Eagerly, I snaked my tongue into him, working it in as far as I could go. The sides of his ass closed against my tongue as I slid it up and down the sides of his crack, licking him clean. Then he pushed back roughly, and I tasted the sweet center of his butthole. My hungry tongue dived into the wrinkled opening to his chute, and I tasted the precum he had fingered into it just minutes earlier.

  As my mouth worked on his asshole, I could see Jon’s shadow against the wall. He was jerking off, pushing his fist against his balls on the way down and pulling at the h
ead as his hand swept up again. The more I tongued him, the harder he pounded his meat, the motion of his hand throwing long shadows across the floor. His balls swung steadily under him, every so often slapping against my chin as I nuzzled deep in his butt.

  Soon he began to moan audibly and rammed himself against me, forcing my tongue into the depth of his spit-slicked ass chute. I heard him let out a low groan and felt his body stiffen. Pulling my face away from his ass, I saw thick ropes of cum flying from his cock, spattering the blue vinyl of the seat in front of him with wave after wave of cream. Jon gripped his prick tightly, coaxing still more cum up his shaft and out the tip. It hung heavily from his engorged dickhead for a few seconds, then rolled off and fell slowly onto the seat like honey from a spoon.

  Jon turned around and faced me. Amazingly, his cock was still as hard as it was before he came. The vein in his dick throbbed once more, and another pearl of cum appeared. Jon wiped it away with his finger and brought it to my lips. He slipped his finger into my mouth, working it between my lips like it was his asshole. I sucked the jism from his finger, surprised at how warm and sweet it was.

  Jon stood over me, his cock pointing at my chest, his balls hanging like overripe fruit about to fall from a tree. I could smell the rich scent of his crotch as his hand continued to move steadily up and down his still-stiff dick. Kneeling over me on the seat, he leaned forward, and the head of his prick pushed against my lips, warm and still wet from the load he’d just shot. I let my mouth close over it, stretching my lips to fit the whole thing in, hoping I’d still be able to breathe. I could feel the vein that ran under his cock and down to his balls pulse against my tongue as inch after inch of rock-hard flesh sank into my throat, coating it with a mixture of sweat and cum.

  Jon hovered over me like a dark angel, his hands grasping the sides of the steel frame, his hat casting a shadow over his eyes. Sweat ran slowly down the valleys of his chest, and his mouth was set in a grim line as he fucked my face. His upper body rested against my arms where they extended over my head, and as he slid in and out of my mouth I felt the muscles of his chest tense and relax beneath their blanket of soft fur. His breathing was soft, and he moaned low in his throat as he ground his crotch against my face.

  After a few minutes of letting me taste his delicious prick, Jon pulled out. He let his balls hang in front of me long enough for me to suck on each one, then pulled away. I thought he was going to shoot another load over my face, but he had other ideas. He stood up and reached down, pulling my legs up so that I was pushed back against the train seat with my feet resting on his chest. He grasped my ankles in his hands, closing his fingers around them tightly. It was the first time he had really touched me, and I felt a quick stab in my groin as my dick responded eagerly.

  Still not touching my cock, Jon ran one hand over his chest, wiping up some sweat. Then he reached for my ass and slid his fingers up and down my crack, spreading my cheeks and stroking the sides. He quickly found my waiting hole and pressed his fingertip against it. It opened easily, and I felt his thick finger enter me. He investigated my chute, moving his finger in and out slowly, teasing me.

  Putting his hands under my ass, he lifted me so that I was even with his waist. My legs slipped over his shoulders, and his strong arms locked around my thighs, pinning me against his sides. Still tied to the steel frame, I hung a few inches above the seat, supported by Jon’s hands.

  Jon’s cock was still slick from the tongue washing I had given it, and it slipped smoothly into my ass. He lingered a moment as the tip penetrated my hole, letting me adjust to his size, then slid the rest of his prick in in one quick motion, not stopping until his balls came to rest against my ass. He stayed there not moving, letting me feel the heat in his cock as it pumped steadily inside my ass like another heart.

  Then he began to fuck me. At first he moved slowly, pulling all the way out until just the end of his dickhead was inside my asshole and then sliding smoothly back in. As he pumped me, his blue eyes looked steadily into mine, never moving away. I stared transfixed as he filled and emptied me with his cock, gasping as he entered me, waiting for him to return when he pulled out. Then he began to speed up, thrusting in and out quickly, pulling my ass against his belly with each thrust. My wrists were aching where the tie pressed into them, but still I wanted more of him. Behind Jon, I could see the liquid gold he’d shot running down the back of the seat. The pressure in my balls was rapidly growing, and I knew that I was going to come any second.

  Jon sensed that I was close. As the train flew over the tracks, he pumped me harder and harder, jackhammering his swollen prick into me. My asshole sucked eagerly at his dick, swallowing every inch he fed me. I felt the boiling in my nuts come to a head, rising up my shaft, and watched as a stream of spunk shot from my cock and covered my chest. Jon continued to pound me, and my ass muscles clamped down on his dick as I shuddered and another load of cum erupted from me, this time hitting me in the face and neck.

  As I licked my own cum from my lips, I felt Jon swell inside me, stretching the walls of my chute until I was sure they’d burst. With one final grunt, he fell against me and came, his cock filling me again and again with waves of heat as his balls emptied their juice deep in my ass. Jon pulled out of me and lowered me back onto the seat. I was covered with cum, and my ass was still burning from the fucking he’d given me. He untied the knot that held my hands behind my head. There was a dull pain in my arms, and I rubbed my wrists to get the blood flowing again.

  Jon was getting dressed, pulling on the familiar uniform as if he’d just stepped out of the shower and was getting ready for work. His hat had stayed on during the entire ride. Looking at his watch, he picked my clothes off the floor and handed them to me.

  “We’re almost at your station,” he said. “Don’t forget to check the surrounding seats for your belongings before leaving the train.”

  The Boys of Summer

  When this story first appeared in the Hitting Home collection, I was shocked to discover that the entire section featuring the characters at summer camp had been edited out without my knowledge. Citing fears of it being mistaken for pedophilia, the editor had removed it. In doing so, she removed the heart of the story. This piece isn’t about boys having sex; it’s about the powerful effect of first discovery and how that can return years later in a different form.

  I hadn’t seen Brian in almost twenty years, so when he walked into my sporting-goods store it took me a minute to recognize the man in front of me as the boy I had known. But as soon as the feeling of having met him somewhere before blossomed into full remembrance, it all came rushing back at once.

  The summer I was twelve, I was sent for two long weeks to a camp in the forests of upstate New York. I’ve forgotten the name now, but it was something vaguely Indian, the kind of place with lots of unfinished wood and legions of blue-shirted counselors scurrying around trying to combat adolescent angst with classes in beaded belt work and organized swimming relays. I have always been something of a loner, and the idea of having to spend fourteen days with dozens of other boys who enthusiastically enjoyed the prospects of archery and sing-alongs was not something that appealed to me. As I watched my parents disappear down the dirt road in their station wagon to a summer of freedom, I breathed in the overwhelming scent of pine and felt the doors of the prison close on me in a wash of sickeningly fresh air.

  When I arrived at my cabin, my worst fears were confirmed. The place was filled with a group of loud, hyperactive adolescents busily engaged in trying to drag a small, screaming boy clad only in undershorts out of his bed. The boy was holding on to the sheets desperately and looked like he was trying very hard not to cry. The other boys had taken a hold of his legs and were tugging on them, taunting him in mimicking voices as he begged for them to leave him alone. “Come on, Morris,” one of the boys said. “Give us a good show.” The speaker, a fat redhead whose new white tennis shorts cut deeply into his pudgy legs, was grinning stupidly as he yanked on the
younger boy’s hands, trying to break his grip. Morris let loose with a howl and vainly tried to kick the redhead in the stomach.

  Just before the boys pulled Morris away from his bed, the door at the other end of the cabin opened and another boy entered. He was shorter than the redhead, but his body was sinewy with muscle. Unlike my pale, freckled Irish complexion, his skin was tanned a dark honey color, as if he had spent most of his life outdoors, and his blond hair was tousled in an offhand way, falling carelessly over his blue eyes. He was carrying a fishing pole, and his legs were speckled with mud.

  When he saw what the redheaded boy was doing, he dropped his pole and rushed forward. His left hand knotted into a tight fist and swung up as he moved. When it connected with the redhead’s face, there was a satisfying smacking sound followed by a thud as the bully hit the floor of the cabin heavily. A spatter of red burst from his nose, and he began to wail, his fat hands covering his face.

  The other boys were immediately silent, staring first at the boy on the floor and then at the boy standing above him, his hands clenched at his sides. Morris, who had scrambled back into his bunk, was smiling happily down at his tormentor. “Thanks,” he said to his rescuer.

  The boy nodded and went to retrieve his fishing pole. Without a word, he placed it under his bunk and then left the cabin as quietly as he had entered it, leaving the other boys staring after him. Because I had gotten to camp late in the day, there was only one bunk left, the one directly above the blond boy’s. I hastily threw my stuff onto it and then went out to go after him.