Date: Wed, 23 Mar 2005 14:00:10 -0800 (PST)
From: Rob Hoek <storyguy22@yahoo.com>
Subject: Summer Sabbatical (Part One)

Another summer, another tale! This is a work of fiction, and to the best of
my knowledge, never actually happened. Should any of the characters
resemble real persons, it's purely an accident. All of the typical
legal-ese remarks apply, so if you shouldn't be reading this stuff, don't!
This chapter got a little out of control on me, an is longer than is my
norm, Can't say what additional chapters might do, need to wait, and see.
Those among you who have read my prior Nifty efforts will be aware that
this is my first dalliance into the Bi-Sexual literary arena. Not sure why,
change is good, I suppose. Your comments are always appreciated, and looked
forward to, so if you are so moved, send them to: bobhook10@hotmail.com.


Summer Sabbatical
    (Part One)


Having taken a full time teaching job right after my college graduation,
and then working a straight five years with no real vacation time, I had
applied for, and been granted a three month sabbatical. I had made
reservations at a mountain resort, securing a small, private cottage tucked
away in the tall pines at the edge of a flowing trout stream. My plan was
to relax, read, and renew my lifelong passion for fly- fishing.

I had spent a few days at the resort during college, having been invited to
join a classmate who knew of the place, and shared my fly fishing
interests. I had remembered the place fondly, although this trip I would be
solo, a condition that had generally become the norm for my life over the
past several years. My name is Rick, recently turned 31, and very
single. My social life had suffered a serious blow back in college, when I
stupidly confessed my bi-sexual bent to my girlfriend of the time, and she
had freaked, at the very idea that I harbored male- to- male sexual
interests, and promptly dumped me. My very bruised ego suffered greatly
from the experience, and I withdrew into my shell, eternally grateful that
I had not been given the opportunity to divulge the full depth of my small
predilection, which actually was a passion for not just males, but more
particularly, young males, anywhere from about age 11 to 15. My attraction
to the fair sex of a similar age range nearly equaled that of my fondness
for boys, and while I seized all opportunities to mentally salivate over
both sexes, my sexual fantasies regarding either had remained just that,
fantasy!

The city where I had attended college, and had taught the past five years,
was fraught with perving opportunities, and I could be frequently found at
various malls, and parks throughout the city, practicing my subtle leering
at the lovely young creatures at play. Many a Saturday would find me seated
at an outside table at a mall coffee house that I favored, sipping some
exotic blend of coffee and chocolate, and seriously checking out the
assorted young eye candy of either sex that was wont to frequent the area
on week-ends. As I watched the parade of cuties, my mind would categorize
materials for my private jackoff session later that evening, often times
playing a subtle, mental video in my head, as I picked that evenings star
attractions.

It never ceased to amaze me, the very distinct difference in attitude
displayed by the boys, as opposed to the girls, relative to things
sexual. The boys seemed, much to my never ending disappointment, hell bent
on dressing in as baggy, and non-revealing, garb as was humanly possible,
while the fair lasses seemed just as hell bent on dressing in a manner that
revealed as much of their flawless, taut, skin as the law and, presumably,
their parents would allow! The warm summer weather brought forth a virtual
sea of teen girl skin, the shorts, or skirts, cut so short as to defy the
ability to sit, without seriously exposing more than a glimpse of the near
non-existent underwear they flaunted. The micro-thongs, and hip-hugger type
panties that they favor flashed into view frequently, often amid loud,
attention getting, squeals of fake embarrassment, as the young harlots
deftly drew as much male attention as possible, man, and boy, alike. Not to
mention the short cropped tops that completed the tempting ensembles,
baring that creamy girl skin between about three inches below the cute
little navel, to an area just barely short of exposing their nubile, pert,
breasts! And, of course, tight, perhaps two full sizes smaller than their
actual size, causing the mini band of material to stretch tightly across
their cute tits, putting the swollen nipples on full, mouth watering,
display for all takers. Is it any wonder that these little darlings
disappeared from the city streets in shocking numbers, something akin to
street walkers on a dark night!

Boys, now, were entirely another story. The devils, they all knew what they
had going on inside of those damnable baggy shorts, and pants, and a lot of
them, if not most, knew damn well that people like me craved the occasional
glimpse of boy bulge.  Or, the pleasure of viewing a taut, small, boy butt,
framed in all its natural beauty by a snug fitting garment of some kind
that allowed some expansion of the imagination. But, alas, not in today's
fashion world. Boys, it seems, are guided by some unwritten oath that they
shall at all times dress in clothing clearly two sizes too big for their
luscious frames, and further, insist on displaying twice as much boxer
shorts above the waist of their pants, or shorts, as below it. Just who,
I'd like to know, mandated this hideous change from the days of my own
boyhood, a glorious time, filled with extra snug Levis, and those
ultra-short, tight, elastic waist shorts of the recent past? The fool
should be whipped, at best, for denying the serious boy lovers among us the
freedom to salivate, as we view the sleek outlines of yummy boy parts,
defined in those form fitting garments of yesteryear. A pox be upon him,
wherever he may be!

But I digress from the telling of the tale at hand. Still, venting just
feels sooo good!

I packed lightly for the trip, assessing that my needs would be simple,
given the remote setting, and I actually carted more books, DVD's, and
fishing tackle, then clothes.  Saturday morning, I loaded the car, and
departed for the 3+ hour drive to my temporary Shangri-La, stopping for
lunch along the way, and arrived at a little after 1:00 pm. I registered,
and located my cabin, parked the car, and went in for a look around. The
place was every bit as great as I remembered. Small, yet cozy, a fair sized
living room area, nicely furnished, a big screen TV, and high, open beam
ceiling. A large sliding door opened onto a redwood deck, which overlooked
the river. The bedroom, and bath were down a short hallway off the living
room, and the king sized bed looked inviting. The kitchen was well
equipped, and I decided my first task was a trip to the small grocery in
the nearby town to stock up on food supplies.

I hauled my meager luggage inside, and unpacked, standing my favorite fly
rod, and creel, near the front door. I made the short trip into town, and
picked up the groceries, and liquid refreshments, both adult, and G-rated
versions. Back at the cabin, I stored away the food items, opened a beer,
and walked out on the deck. Leaning on the rail, I drank in the beauty of
the flowing river, and the tall pines, breathing deeply of the fresh
mountain air. As I lost myself to the serenity of the place, I caught
movement out the corner of my eye, and shifted my attention to its
source. Rounding the bend of the river was a boy, somewhere around 12 to
14, I guessed from this distance, and dressed in those damned baggy shorts
that I railed about earlier, his shirt tossed over one shoulder, and tennis
shoes. As he got closer, I decided that he was definitely a cutie, sandy
colored hair, cut longish, with a center part, and going over his ears at
the sides. A slightly round shape to his face, and his bare chest displayed
a leanness to his torso, leading to a cute little "inney" button, and not a
trace of hair, including his underarms, I noted, as he flicked his hand at
a flying bug near his face.

As he neared the cabin, he looked up, spotted me, and angled his gait to
walk over, and stop below me. Looking up, he smiled, revealing perfect,
snow white teeth, and, OMG, dimples! "Hi!" He chirped in a melodic, boyish
voice. I smiled down at him, and replied, "Hi, yourself!" Still blinding me
with the perfect smile, he said, "So...you must be Mr. Rogers, right?"
Impressed, both my his apparent perception, and the killer dimples, I
nodded, and answered, "That would be me, Mr. Mystic, are you a mind reader,
or...?" he giggled sweetly, and shook his head, causing his soft hair to
ruffle over his cute ears, and said, "Not hardly Dude....I'm Chris, and my
Grandparents own this place, and I saw your reservation was due today, is
all." I chuckled, and replied, "Ah...I see...well...hi, again,
Chris....and...I'm Rick, actually...not Mr. Rogers when I'm on vacation!"
he did that cute giggle again, and said, "Ok....cool....so, hi again,
Rick!"

Being the hospitable person I am, and driven by the strong desire to
eliminate the fifteen foot or so distance between us, I said, "So,
Chris-the-owners-Grandson.....come on up, and I'll buy you a cold soda!"
Moving toward the stair, he replied, "Sweet....I'm there, Dude!" And I
watched, as he jogged the steps two at a time, until he stood before me,
again adding to the brightness of the day with his perfect smile. He
extended his smallish hand, and said, in that not-yet-fully-changed voice,
"Welcome to the Lure Resort, Rick." I gripped his soft hand, and we shook,
as I replied, "Thanks, Chris....I'm definitely happy to be
here....especially now." He actually blushed slightly, which only served to
fuel my barely concealed perving, and mumbled something that sounded like
"right". "Grab a seat, Dude...Pepsi, or Coke? He let go of my hand, and
moved toward the table, answering, "Whatever...either is cool."

I ducked into the kitchen and got a Coke, and a fresh brew for myself, and
walked back onto the deck. Chris was seated, his feet propped up on the
deck rail in front of him. I handed him the soda, and took the opportunity
to note the nicely toned legs extended below the hem of the shorts, and
drank in the faint peach fuzz that shimmered in the sunlight. His torso,
and legs were nicely tanned, and it was apparent he was frequently
shirtless, which suited me just fine. He was on the small side, assuming I
was close in guessing his age, and slim, with nicely defined shoulders, and
chest, and I made note of the attractive set of dime sized nipples that
dotted the flawless skin. His tummy was also tanned, and flat, the tiniest
wrinkle of boy fat gathered at his trim waist. The damned shorts were baggy
enough for two boys, and sadly precluded any opportunity to gauge the
treasures contained within, but the wide display of boxers above the waist
was a clear indication that whatever its dimensions, the package was
enjoying relative freedom of movement as opposed to being restricted in
tightey- whiteys. The prevailing style of my own not so distant youth had
been briefs, and, while certainly sexy in their own right, were a serious
source of discomfort, given the frequency rate of the typical teen boys
erections.

I pulled up a chair, and we chatted, sipping our drinks. Over the course of
the conversation, I learned that Chris had just turned 14 last week, and
that he had just finished 8th grade, and would be entering high school in
the fall. Home was in Southern California, which explained the great tan,
and he was spending the summer break with his Grandparents at the
resort. He expressed surprise at my revealing that I was a teacher,
indicating that he considered me "to cool" for that, and I explained that
my teacher demeanor was largely reserved for the classroom. Beside, I told
him, even teachers like to have fun, an idea that apparently had not
previously occurred to him!

At one point in our conversation, Chris indicated a need to use the
facilities, and he stood, heading inside, and again I cussed the infernal
baggy style of dress! As he returned, he reclaimed his seat, and hit me
with that killer grin, saying, "So....you fly fish too...awesome...I saw
your stuff by the door..." I grinned back, nodded, and said,
"Too...?....does that mean that you're into it, too?" Nodding his head, he
answered, "Oh yea.....for sure...like, since I was a kid!" I chuckled at
that, briefly thinking to myself that he was still a kid, but not saying
it, and replied, "Whoa, Chris...that's awesome...is the fishing any good
lately?" He nodded again, saying, "Most of the time it is....I know some
good spots up the river.....it's actually not so hot right here...to many
guests fish it too much." Linking the duel benefit of spending more time
with this cutie, and the possibility of gleaning some local knowledge of
the fishing, I beamed at him, and said, "Uh...not to impose...but....how
would you feel about sharing some of your secret holes with me?" He did
that cute blush thing again, and giggled softly, and it dawned on me then
exactly what I had just said, and I blushed, as well. "Uh...sorry,
Dude....fishing holes...ya know...?" God, I thought, he's so freeking cute,
and even more so, with the rosy blush going on! "Sure, Dude....not a
problem...anytime you want...if your up for a pretty long hike...the way
good spots are up stream a ways, and there's no roads." I leaned over, and
offered him palm for a hi-five, which he returned, and said, "That's really
cool of you Chris....seriously!" He did the mega-smile again, and answered,
"Naaa....it's all part of the service here at the Lure Resort!" And he
giggled that sweet giggle, again!

Soon after, Chris downed his soda, and saying he needed to check back in
with his Grandparents, he left, but not before we had agreed to meet here
at my cabin in the morning, then try our luck on the river. I made some
dinner, and ate, then curled into the comfy recliner chair, and read for a
while, my mind more occupied with a very interesting boy named Chris, than
with the reading material in my hands. I rehashed the earlier conversation
in my mind, trying to get a read on the subtle nuances that had surfaced
when I had made the "secret holes" remark, and later, the reference that
Chris had made about being "part of the services of the resort", but was
reluctant to over read either, fearing that my thinking was apt to be
clouded with wishful thinking. While the vague possibility of some sexual
interest being transmitted by the cutie existed, it was, at best, a long
shot, and I implored myself to move carefully. He was, after all, barely
14, and, horny and curious teen, or not, that particular road, when not
carefully negotiated, could result in the involved adult owning a personal
wardrobe limited to orange jumpsuits imprinted with the name of the local
lockup.

I awoke about 7:00 am fully rested, having slept like the proverbial log,
the utter silence of the remote location, coupled with the quality of the
bed, making for perfect sleep conditions, and I felt better than I had in a
long while. I put some coffee on to brew, and headed for the shower. As I
soaped my body, my thoughts returned to young Chris, and I allowed my best
case scenario thoughts take over. Let's, for the hell of it, assume that he
is both horny, and curious to explore things sexual. So far, so good. Now,
let's consider his present circumstance, and options, for pursuing said
curiosity. First, he is at a remote, mountain resort, inhabited pretty much
by people of retirement age, excepting yours truly, and not exactly over
run with opportunities for encounters with nubile young females with a
disposition similar to his own. Second, while masturbation is commonly the
favorite sport of the average 14 year old boy, it does have a way of
leaving him with the lingering thought that there must be more to this sex
thing. Let's also factor in the statistical possibility that, given his age
and the state of his hormones, he has, at some point, "experimented" with a
friend, and therefore has, to some degree, learned that hands other than
your own feel much better touching you "there".

All of this mental wandering, coupled with the location, and actions, of my
sudsy hand, had induced a strong erection in my own horny and curious cock,
and I shuddered as I gripped the rock hard instrument, briefly stroking its
length. Screw it, I decided, lets quit the "what-if", and let things play
out as they will. Hell, at the very least, I'd be spending a great day with
a killer cute young boy, and at the same time be honing my rusty fly-
casting skills. There it was, cast a fly upon the water, and who knew what
might rise to it? I ignored my pulsing prick, and rinsed off, dressed, and
followed my nose to the coffee maker.

I had just finished the breakfast cleanup, when a soft tap came from the
cabin door. I swung it open, and my cock gave a small twinge, as I greeted
a smiling Chris, standing on the porch. "Hey!" Came his greeting, and I
stepped back, indicating he should enter, and replied, "Hey,
yourself....good morning!" As he moved forward, I let my eyes quickly drink
in his lithe body, now dressed in a sweatshirt, and, thank you God, Levis!
Brief as it was, the moment allowed me to discern a very sweet bulging at
the crotch of the snug fitting jeans, and the equally pleasing protrusion
of small, snug, boy buns, the Levis clinging nicely to the firm melons. He
walked through to the kitchen, and turned toward me, leaning that cute butt
against the cabinet, and asked, "So, did ya sleep ok?" I nodded, and
answered, "Big time good, actually....great, even...it's so quiet here!" He
smirked slightly, and mumbled, "For sure....like....too quiet, even." I
chuckled at his remark, and replied, "Yea, I suppose it is too quiet for
teenage energy levels....you probably should have brought one of your
girlfriends along to keep you entertained!" I joked, and he blushed again,
muttering under his breath, "Yea, right....like, I SO don't need any of
those!" Really! I thought to myself, interesting, indeed!

We packed a couple of sandwiches, fruit, and drinks, in a small cooler with
ice, grabbed our tackle, and headed up stream, following a small path at
the rivers edge. The scenery, and the fresh morning air were perfect, and I
let my eyes enjoy the swaying movements of Chris's cute butt as I followed
his lead. We walked a good hour, passing numerous cascading waterfalls
along the river, each flowing into large pools, deep, and breathtaking in
their clarity. The trail wandered away from the river for a ways, and at a
point where it veered even further from the stream, Chris turned off the
path, and walked across a small meadow to the waters edge. I caught up, and
he said, "This is a good hole, I usually catch a couple here, and it's a
awesome place for a swim when it gets hot later, too." I looked past him,
and actually gasped at the beauty before me. A large, deep pool of the
river, maybe fifty feet across, translucent in its total clarity, fed by a
post card perfect water fall. The fall was maybe twenty-five feet high, and
wide, arching over a rock out cropping about twelve feet above the pool,
creating a place behind it large enough to walk into. We set our gear down,
and rigged our poles, then each took up a casting position at opposite
corners of the pool, and set about testing our luck.

I watched Chris between casts of my own, and admired his angling skill, as
he deftly paid out his line in several graceful whips of his rod, then
gently landed the fly on the waters surface, causing only the tiniest of
ripples. I once again said a silent thank you to the Big Guy upstairs, for
providing the snug Levis in place of the damnable baggies! On his third
landing of his fly, the calm water erupted, as a brook trout rose, and
struck the fly with a fury, as Chris snapped his rod tip, effectively
setting the hook, as the fish dove, creating a serious bend in the fly rod
tip, as Chris began working his catch. The fish surfaced, and tail-danced
across the pool, in an effort to throw the hook, then splashed noisily back
to the surface, and dove again. Chris worked the trout for several minutes,
a look of concentration on his cute face, his perfect teeth gleaming in the
morning sun, as he grinned widely. Soon, he had worked his catch to the
shoreline, where he bent, and deftly netted the nice sized Brooky. Me, I
stared in awe of his tight bubble butt, which was pointed directly at me,
as he bent down! Standing, he held the fish up for my inspection, and I
grinned, and signaled a "well done" to him.

We worked the pool for about half an hour, Chris netting three nice trout
to my two, then decided we had stirred it up enough to preclude further
action, and continued on upstream. By 1:00pm we had bagged two limits of
trout, and I was marveling at how relaxed, and stress free, I had become in
such a short span of time. Why, I asked myself, don't I do more of this? We
broke down our poles, and cleaned the fish, then hiked back down stream to
the pool we had first fished, and picked out a spot at waters edge to eat
some lunch, and rest. Quietly drinking in the natural beauty of the spot, I
vowed to bring my Digital camera on my next visit. Turning to Chris, I
smiled broadly, and said, "I owe you, Champ, big time owe....for today!" He
grinned, and nodded, the sweet blush crawling across his creamy cheeks, and
said softly, "Yep....cool...I'll prolly think of something..." And he
giggled softly. I smiled, and looked into his sky blue eyes, and said,
seriously, "Name it, Dude....just name it..." He blushed some more, and
nodded slightly, then stood up, his nicely bulged crotch right at my eye
level for maybe half a minute, and yes, silly, I stared, then turned away,
mumbling about taking a leak.

He walked a few yards away, and standing profile, dug into his fly, and
produced his sweet boy meat. Trying hard not to stare openly, I checked him
out, at the same time curious as to his stance, since he easily could have
accomplished his task facing away from me totally. I've never considered
myself a piss freak, but my own cock stirred to attention at the sight. A
drop dead cute teen boy standing in a mountain meadow, legs slightly
spread, his hand lightly supporting what appeared to be an adequately sized
piece of boy meat, as he drained his bladder onto the soft grass at his
feet! My racing mind flashed, processing several thoughts at once, as it
occurred to me that he had intentionally positioned himself so that I would
see his sweet cock, and also how very much I wished that I was there,
holding that sweet cock for him! He finished, and stroked his tool a bit,
adding to the firmness of my own erection, then zipped it away, and walked
back over to stand again in front of my staring eyes, then sat back
down. "Everything come out all right?" I asked with a chuckle, and he
blushed again, then nodded, and replied, "Uh huh...awesome...needed that!"
Climbing to my feet, and answered, "Yea, good plan, actually." And I
crossed to the area he had used, hauled out my semi-hard cock, and relieved
my own bladder, as Chris sat quietly watching. Once again seated next to
Chris, I smiled, and said, "You were right....felt good!" He blushed
deeply, and paused, then looked into my eyes, and said, almost a whisper,
"You're big, Dude!" It was my turn for a blush, and it came, as I said
softly in return, "Just average, actually.....must be the distance!" He
blushed some more, and mumbled, "Right....well...next time....I'll check ya
closer!" I nodded, and said, "Anytime, Dude.....it's all part of the
service!" He giggled, and nodded his sweet head!

We ate, and rehooked the catches of the day, verbally speaking, then packed
up, and headed back down the trail to the resort, as my mind filled with
the possibilities of the coming days at my personal little Shangri-La, and
a certain member of the resident staff, more to the point, a boy named
Chris!

(To BE Continued)
bobhook10@hotmail.com