Date: Thu, 20 Jul 2006 04:38:21 -0400
From: carl_mason@comcast.net
Subject: HOBO TEEN - 2

Copyright 2006 by Carl Mason

All rights reserved.  Other than downloading one copy for strictly personal
enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any
form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, except for reviews, without
the written permission of the author.  However based on real events and
places, "Hobo Teen" is strictly fictional.  Any resemblance to actual
events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.  As
in real life, however, the sexual themes unfold gradually.  Comments on the
story are appreciated and may be addressed to the author at
carl_mason@comcast.net

This story contains descriptions of sexual contact between males, both
adults and teenagers.  As such, it is homoerotic fiction designed for the
personal enjoyment of legal, hopefully mature, adults.  If you are not of
legal age to read such material, if those in power and/or those whom you
trust treat it as illegal, or if it would create unresolvable moral
dilemmas in your life, please leave.  Finally, remember that maturity
generally demands safe sex.

This story is highly indebted for its inspiration and many of its details
to the book Riding the Rails; Teenagers on the Move During the Great
Depression by Errol Lincoln Uys.  New York: Routledge, 2003, and the
award-winning documentary film by Michael Uys and Lexy Lovell, Riding the
Rails, produced by WGBH Educational Foundation, Boston, 2005.


CHAPTER 2

(Revisiting Chapter 1)

Cy stuck it out through the autumn and the winter, earning a buck here and
a buck there that her promptly turned over to his mother.  Captain Sam even
took him aboard the Betsy G for a week's fishing off the coast of Maine,
making up for the missed summer trip.  He actually earned a few dollars on
that one.  Increasingly, however, he sensed the impossible pressure on
everyone - as well as sorely missing the daily contact with his friends in
school and sports.  Early in the spring, the gangling fifteen year-old
announced that the family would have one less mouth to feed.  He was no
longer a child and would search for his father out in California.

(Continuing Our Story - Mixed Feelings)

Somewhat tentatively, the teen stood at the side of the road.  Was it too
early to hitch a ride into Boston?  He looked around at the familiar
sights: the pale morning light, the remaining wisps of fog working their
way into the trees, the occasional seagull.  Saying goodbye was so damned
hard to do - even when it was necessary.  Deep in left pocket, his fingers
crinkled the two one-dollar bills that his mother had pressed upon him -
and the additional dollar that Aunt Grace had insisted he take.
Family...his family...  A tear involuntarily coming to his eye, he wondered
if he would really be able to make it on his own.

His reverie was interrupted by an approaching car.  Instinctively, Cy
thrust his thumb into the air and was happy to see the new Packard sedan
come to a halt just beyond him.  He sighed in relief as he noted that its
passengers were an elderly doctor and his wife from Boston.  Rockport
neighbors of one of his lawn and garden customers, he had met the
Blessingtons during the past summer.  A few moments of chatter confirmed
that they had come north to check on their home after a destructive
nor'easter had lashed Cape Ann.  While Mrs. Blessington seemed saddened by
his leaving home, they insisted on taking him right into Boston, some 30
miles to the south.  It was surely not a hard journey!  The 1934 Packard
Club Sedan Super 8 was as quiet and comfortable as it was beautiful.  Cy
almost went to sleep on the luxurious upholstery.  To top it all off, they
stopped and fed him a fantastic lunch as they approached the city.  Once at
the Boston Common, Cy left the car with the good wishes of the kind couple
ringing in his ears and a five-dollar bill clasped in his hand.

Inasmuch as the Sumner Tunnel had been opened some four years earlier,
reaching East Boston posed no great problem.  Nor was there any doubt that
he had reached his destination when he arrived at the great, 50-acre
terminal at the docks.  Indeed, he spied several B&A (Boston & Albany)
freight trains in the yard, including a long B&A freight that was being
loaded.  The guy with whom he had washed dishes at a Gloucester diner had
told him the truth!  Instinctively, he knew that darkness had to cover his
next actions - and that was several hours away.

The day was relatively warm and pleasant.  Purchasing a soda at a
neighborhood mom and pop store, he wandered over to a small park across
from the terminal and found a tree that he could lean against.  In truth,
Cy was trembling.  Never had he been as excited - even when he had hooked
into that giant swordfish several years ago.  Earlier in the morning, he
had more than a few doubts.  Now he felt alive, free from the horrible
pressures that had weighed down on him for several months.  Damn!  He even
felt free of the pressures that weigh down on teenagers all of the time!
Cy could scarcely believe how alive his body felt!  Suddenly, he snapped to
full consciousness and found himself grinning happily at an older teen who
was leaning comfortably against a nearby tree.  He hoped that he hadn't
done anything wrong when the teen grinned back, stood up, and ambled
towards him, hand outstretched.

"Archie, Archie Blevins," the tall redhead said with a wide grin.  "Cy
Whitman," the younger teen responded as they shook hands vigorously.  Nice
guy,' thought Cy.  Built!  Two, maybe three years older than me, though I
think I'm just about as tall.  Thank God I grew some last summer!  Wonder
what he's up to...'  Within a very few minutes, the two youngsters were
sprawled out on the ground, chattering away as if they had known each other
for a lifetime!  It seems that Archie - just 18 and from Bangor, way up in
the State of Maine - had been on the road for two years.  As he had
promised his father, a general handyman, he had made a quick trip home.
Proudly, he recounted how he had handed his mom and dad nearly two hundred
dollars - a fortune to his nearly destitute family - that he had earned on
his journeys.  "Super!" Cy had responded, clapping him on the shoulder.
"And what's next?"  "Well," Archie responded, "this time I want to see more
of the West.  Work a little less...see a lot more," he snickered.  "How
about you, Cy?"  Naturally, the full story of economic conditions in
Gloucester came out, as well as Cy's intention to relieve some of the
pressure and join his father in San Diego.  Snickering a bit more loudly,
Archie allowed that San Diego was "pretty far west."  "How would you like
to make at least some of the trip together, Cy?" he continued.  "Young guys
face some special problems on the road and, besides, I think we can become
good friends.  We could have some fun and I could teach you what I've
learned.  Interested?"  "Am I ever, Archie!" Cy almost yelled despite his
desire to appear mature and laid back.  What a day it had been!

Before the early spring sun set, Cy unwrapped some food that his mother had
packed for him - and that he hadn't had to eat due to the generosity of the
Blessingtons.  Archie also took some home cooking out of his pack.
Sharing, they sat down to a pretty good dinner.  By 9:00, shivering a bit
in the night air, Cy was glad to hear Archie say that it was time "to catch
out," i.e., board the long B&A freight that had been loaded and seemed to
be preparing to depart.  Walking until Cy wondered if they would ever stop,
his friend finally found the spot for which he was evidently searching.
Carefully, they entered a particularly dark section of the terminal yard
and silently headed for the freight trains that they had observed all
afternoon.  Railroad "bulls" (detectives) seemed to be everywhere, but
Archie clearly knew what he was doing.  After several close calls, they
eventually reached the long freight and checked it out thoroughly before
choosing a boxcar, one of whose side doors was open.  Receiving a helping
hand from his new friend, Cy followed him to a corner of the far end of the
car.  After Archie had placed a railroad spike that would prevent the door
from completely closing, he removed an earth-colored blanket from his pack,
spread it over them, and said they had to remain quiet until the train
left.  It had to have been close to eleven o'clock when they heard the
highball (the two short blasts from the whistle that signaled the train was
leaving).  With a great spurt of steam, the locomotive got under way, the
cars violently jerking as the engine lurched forward.  Our boxcar creaked
and groaned, shivered and shook, rattled and complained - but we were on
our way!

Perhaps an hour later as they sat in the open door of the car, variously
watching the occasional lights of eastern Massachusetts pass by and gazing
with wonder at the stars above, Archie gently put his arm around Cy's
shoulders.  "You've done good, man," the big teen muttered.  "You're out of
there and that's a big part of the battle.  Want to celebrate?"
"Celebrate?" Cy asked, a happy grin on his face.  "Yeah, celebrate," Archie
reiterated, holding his breath while placing an open hand on Cy's upper
thigh and squeezing slightly. Glad that the night hid most of his blushing,
the younger teen swallowed convulsively and whispered, "Yeah..."  (In
truth, he had kinda hoped that something like this would happen since he
had first seen Archie in the park.)  "Good!"  Archie responded, moving his
hand up into Cy's crotch.  "My God, Cy, is that all you?"  he burst out.
"What in hell do you have packed in there, a beach towel?"  Emboldened, the
Gloucester teen muttered breathlessly, "Guess you're going to have to check
that out, Big Guy!"

Archie rose immediately, retrieved his blanket, and spread it out on the
boxcar floor in front of the open side door.  For a moment, he stared down
at his buddy before sensually removing his shoes, socks, shirt, and pants.
Finally naked, the faint moonlight playing on the planes of his lean,
muscled body, he strode over to Cy, helped him to rise, and kissed him
deeply as he held him close.  Feeling his equipment beginning to lurch like
the locomotive as it got under way, Cy returned the kiss fervently,
whispering in no little embarrassment that he would need Archie's
direction, for he really didn't know what in hell he was doing!  "Relax,
friend," his companion responded.  "I promised that I would show you what I
know.  This one's for you.  Just rest against me and let me show you how
proud of you I am - and what a sexy beast I think you are."  "Oh, yeah," Cy
murmured as the redhead slowly stripped him until only his fully- packed
jock strap was left on his body.  At that point, Archie slowly and gently
helped his young friend to collapse onto the blanket.

For several minutes, the older teen sensually licked nearly every surface
of Cy's body - his chest, his nips (already erect and hard), his flat
stomach, his solidly muscled thighs, his feet - even his toes.  Shortly, as
the lad's body began seriously to writhe on the blanket, Archie noted that
whatever it was under his jock strap seemed to be trying to get out!  The
constant jerking, vibration, and undulation reminded him of several crocs
or, perhaps, King Kong caught up in a large net.  He could contain his
lustful curiosity no longer!  Determinedly, he set his teeth in the belt of
the super jock and slowly peeled it away from its contents.  Gasping, he
fell back on his heels.  Calmly, he admitted to himself that he had never
seen anything like it - nor had he ever smelled such an unbelievably sexy
combination of teen sweat and musk that greeted his nose.  Neither the
long, thick tube of flesh (not to speak of the heavy head that might have
served as a blackjack in a gangster movie) nor the smooth sack that
stretched down for some distance before revealing the heavy balls that it
sheltered had no equal in his experience.  He gazed at it in wonder, in
appreciation, even in awe.

Grinning into Cy's eyes, Archie slowly lowered his open mouth over the
glans.  (Indeed, that took considerable stretching!)  Making no effort to
suck or bob his head, the master slowly circled his open mouth over the
glans now colored a dark rose.  As his buddy sighed and quivered in
anticipation, he lifted his head slightly and moved his tongue to the seam
on the underside of the lad's penis and scrotum.  Gently, almost tickling,
the redheaded one used his tongue to lick down the underside of the penis
and the scrotum, and up the perineum to the anus.  After circling the anus
for a minute or so (and even touching the anus with the tip of his tongue),
he began the reverse trek.  Reaching the glans at the top of the penis,
however, he changed his strategy.  Holding Cy's heavy balls in one hand and
gently manipulating them in his palm, the stiff tip of his tongue jabbed
repeatedly at the frenulum (or triangular area on the underside of the
penis where the foreskin is attached).  A moment later, he took the glans
into his mouth, kissing it, licking it, worshiping it.  In time, this led
Archie to kiss his way up and down the shaft, licking and sucking as he
went.  (He would have loved simply to swallow the entire penis and suck
lightly on it, but the size made this impossible, at least on this first
try.)  As he made his early attempts to take more and more of Cy's cock
into his mouth, he did direct the boy to place his hands around the back of
his neck and gently draw his head down upon the cock that now looked as if
it would explode at any moment.  That succulent flesh - completely engorged
and pulsing in rhythm with his beating heart - was now blood red in color
with a veritable stream of precum flowing from the urethra down the shaft.
He also managed to suggest that his pleasure would be heightened by the
youngster's running his fingers through his hair and along his shoulders.
At the same time, he kept up an unremitting stimulation of Cy's genitals,
licking, sucking, and rubbing.

Wondering how in hell this newbie had lasted so long, Archie sensed that
the end was near.  Cy began to moan and writhe nonstop and his genitals not
only seemed to be bathed in a reddish glow but had petrified after nearly
doubling in size!  The thought that he had never seen anything to compare
again ran through his head as his hand, resting on the newbie's solid
chest, seemed to sense the beginnings of an explosion.  Within seconds,
Krakatoa had nothing on Cy Whitman who seemed to erupt all over the boxcar.
Perhaps that is just a tad overdramatic.  Maybe it was more like a major
oil well coming in!  Fire red, black, or pearly white, however, the effect
was much the same.

As the young man from Gloucester mumbled to his new pal, he so wanted to
return the favor. Nevertheless, stark naked, cuddled under the blanket in
the arms of a handsome (naked) buddy, warm, and unbelievably satisfied
sexually - albeit exhausted physically and emotionally - he fell asleep
almost immediately.  As a matter of fact, he didn't stir until Archie poked
him into consciousness, telling him that they would soon be entering New
York Central's Selkirk freight yards about a dozen miles south of Albany.
(Author's Note: Though it struggled to maintain its identity, the Boston
and Albany came under the control of New York Central in 1900.)


To Be Continued