Date: Tue, 24 Jan 2006 11:31:47 -0700
From: Joseph Farrin <bigblaise@hotmail.com>
Subject: ONE FOOT ON THE MOUNTAIN

(I hope you enjoy this story -- enjoy it enough to write and tell me.  If
you do e-mail me.  I answer all mail, even flames.  Sometimes it takes
me a while, but I won't forget you.)

What's with the title?

Well, I have only one foot to put on the mountain; I have a metal
prosthesis from the knee down on my left leg.  At this moment it's on
the mountain because I'm here visiting a friend.

My name is Clint.

My friend has lived up here for about ten years. He has two legs, but
needs a cane to walk.

His name is Kendall.

We were in the same Company and both shot up the same day in Viet
Nam.  We are now both in our early fifties.

I was on my way from Phoenix to Oregon and took a short detour to
come to the small town called Climax, where Kendall lives.

CLIMAX -- maybe I should have used that as the title for this story -- a
lot of climaxing takes place in the story.

I couldn't believe the change in Kendall since I'd last seen him.  He has
a full beard, grey, looks ten years older than he actually is, seems to
have no spirit, but sure drinks a lot of them.  His house is disorderly
and needs a good cleaning.  He's living with an older, white haired
woman named Melissa who is his equal in alcohol consumption.

By contrast, I am sometimes mistaken for a man in his late thirties or
early forties; I have dark brown hair, I'm thin, clean-shaven and take
pride in my appearance.  If I didn't I wouldn't keep my job.

I didn't say anything to Kendall about how shocked it was.  Viet Nam
was a real disaster for everyone over there.  I guess I was lucky to
have been better able to cope with life, if any, right after Nam.  Those
early years took their toll on Kendall.

I was sure Kendall was living on his Veteran's pension, whereas I was
working as Head of Public Relations for a large construction company.
I take clients out to the site while their project is under construction,
take photos to them between times, take them to expensive luncheons,
arrange tickets to theater and sports event - anything to keep them
happy.  My job requires a lot of client contact and that's why I needed
to look sharp.

Kendall was as straight as they come.  I knew that.  It made no
difference to me.

I was as gay as they come.  Kendall knew that.  It made no difference
to him.

One thing Kendall did not know about me was that my balls got hot for
young boys, a hang over from Nam.  In Saigon there were a lot of
whorehouses.  There were also a few boy houses.

I'll say one thing for Kendall.  He had more friends than I'll ever have
and they hung out every day on or around his front porch from late
morning until around 9 or 10 in the evening.  Every day was an all out
party day, with some people drifting away now and then to be replaced
by new ones.  The night crowd stayed longer, drank more and some
were put in their cars to sleep it off -- Kendall left their keys on a nail
on
one of his porch posts.  A lot of the guys brought beer and liquor with
them.  If the supply got low, someone made a run to the little grocery
store three blocks away.

There was also a lot of pot smoking, a habit that I hadn't picked up on.

It was hard to get used to them.  Some of them were older guys,
scruffy, bearded -- trashy to be blunt. On the other hand, there were
teenagers that were hard-on material for sure, clean, tee shirts or bare-
chested, cut off blue jeans and rubber thongs on their feet.  The kids
drank every bit as much as the adults.

I always found a lot of sex in Phoenix -- bars, baths, bookstores and a
few guys that I got together with often -- but this young stuff was driving
both my cock and me crazy.

There was also a lot of foot traffic up and down the unpaved street,
including more jailbait.  Everyone knew everybody else.  Everyone
waved; drinking in public seemed acceptable. In most places the cops
would have ended it half an hour after it started.

After a few days of partying I started getting my stuff organized and
packing my suitcase.

Kendall started crying, begging me not to leave.  Melissa was crying,
too.  Who can stand to see a woman cry?

I told him I was on a vacation and had a job to return to.  He said he
needed me.  That did it!  It was the first time in my life anyone had told
me they needed me.

He wanted me to at least spend my vacation with him.  I told him I
would if he'd agree to my going to a motel.  He said one of the twelve
little cottages in his complex was vacant, asked to use my cell phone,
looked up a phone number on a rent receipt and dialed the owner of
the property, negotiated my renting the place for two weeks and said
he had an old army cot I could sleep on.    Mr. Harper, the landlord,
came by in his pickup truck to collect $250, a half-month's rent from
me and unloaded a foldaway bed for me to use -- better than an army
cot.  I remarked I was surprised you could rent anything for $500 a
month.  He said the others weren't as nice and rented for 400.

Melissa walked to the coin laundry and came back with clean sheets
and a supply of clean towels before she realized there was a stack
washer and dryer unit in the bathroom.  From then on everyone was
using it to do their laundry.

So, I again joined the on-going party and took a closer interest in it, as
it was now my vacation.

LARRY

As I said, there were a lot of teenagers, a lot of them drank, and all of
them smoked cigarettes -- sometimes grass.  I soon learned, too, that
they never had their own cigarettes.  I guess the clerks in the small
grocery store knew them, knew their age and wouldn't sell to them, so
they bummed them.  When a kid named Larry, a good looking, dark
haired guy with a killer smile and stepson to a guy named John, asked
me for one I told him I was out but I'd make a run to the grocery.  He
went with me and we returned with cigarettes and 2 packs of 18 cans
of beer

>From Larry, I gleaned that there were a lot of rich people in the area
but they all lived out of town on large acreages and the only time you
ever saw any of them was when they were picking up their mail at the
post office.

Right in town there were was a lot of families below the poverty level.
And a lot of the families in town were ones where either both parents
worked or one parent situations due to divorce.  The kids, as a result,
had too much freedom, knew too much for their age and, as I'd find
out, would bum money off guys as well as cigarettes.

Well, it took a while, but I finally did get into Larry's shorts and his
step
dad's too.  I'm not too proud of how I did it but I'll tell you anyway --
later on.  Funny thing, I never even thought of trying to get his step
dad's meat out of his zipper until I saw him taking a piss one night and
realized his cock qualified for the biggest cock I'd ever personally seen.
Now I'm not a size queen but I've never been known to discriminate
against a huge one given the opportunity to suck it off.

KURT

A few days passed.  I liked parties, but was out of training for a
perpetual one, so one noon I told Kendall I was going to the grocery
and to drive around for a while.  I bought a San Francisco Chronicle, a
candy bar and a large diet coke then drove around until I found a
shady parking space under some tall trees in a park, left the driver's
side door open and the cab window down on the other side to catch a
breeze.

I was absorbed in my newspaper and was startled when a cute, young,
blonde asked, "Do you have a cigarette?"

He had three boys, all of them younger, with him that stood back a
ways.

"Yea, but you're too young to smoke it."

"I'm 17."

"I'd believe 14, maybe."

"Honest, I just look younger."

"And honest, you should change your opening line."

I gave him a cigarette, anyway, and the four of them walked across the
lawn toward the apartment Larry had described while telling me where
his mom lived.  The three younger ones looked back and smiled,
amused, I guessed, that their buddy had conned me or that I was so
gullible.

The park tuned out to be so pleasant I returned the next day and the
same boy came up to the car, alone this time.

"Hi, again, can I bum another fag, and a light, too."

He smoked the cigarette and made no sign of leaving.  We exchanged
names and he stood in front of my open door on the drivers' side.

"What kind of a name is Clint?"

"If you mean what nationality, I'm English."

"I'm German."

I asked him if he wanted to get in and sit down.

He said, "No, but I'm wondering if you'd give me the rest of your fags
and loan me a couple of bucks."

"Maybe.  What do I get in return."

"That depends, all four of us yesterday guessed what you are.  But for
cigarettes and a few bucks all you get is a preview while I jack it up to
size."

(I'm far from obvious and knew damn well those four little shits hadn't
guessed anything.  Kurt was just tossing me more bullshit.)

I'd just changed a $10 bill at the grocery so I reached in my pocket and
handled him a bunched up $5 bill.  He threw his cigarette on the
ground and twisted it out with the heel of his shoe, pulled up the leg of
his cut off jeans, took out his hooded meat, pushed the foreskin back
and jacked it up to around 5-inches and fairly fat, as my eyes bulged
out of their sockets watching.  (Maybe he was nearer 17 than 14 after
all.)

"Jesus, you've got a nice one."

"Yea, a nice, big, fat German boy cock.  I see through your pants that
you're hard.   You'd like to have it, wouldn't you?"  With that said he put
it away.

"So what are we talking about here?"

"About a carton of cigarettes and $20.00."

"For what and how long."

"Masturbation or oral, no anal. A couple of beers before we start, then
long enough for both of us to shoot."

I hadn't paid for sex since Nam, but his terms seemed more than
reasonable and my already erect, 7-inch dick was practically hollering,
"Give him the twenty -- let's go!"  I hadn't played with a piece of boy
cock for a long time and, believe me there's nothing in this world
sweeter than a good size boy fucker that's all hard and on a cute kid
that likes to have a man play with him down there.  Even the thought of
fondling that uncut beauty and getting it in my mouth made me harder
than I'd been in a long, long time.  I was ready to go, too.

I told him where I lived, or he could go to the store with me to get the
cigarettes and the beer.  He went with me.  We sat on the bed, had a
couple of beers and a couple of cigarettes.  He was one of the daytime
orphans of a working, divorced mom like Larry had told me about.  We
undressed and played with each other's male toys while we had
another beer and cigarette.

I was a top and I intended to suck his boy cock, but it was a good thing
I was versatile as he had his own agenda.  He pushed me down on the
bed, straddled me and began dragging his little egg shaped balls and
rock hard pecker all over my body.  It seemed to really turn him on,
especially when he was rubbing it over the hairs on my chest. After a
short while, still rubbing, he reached back, grabbed my dick and held it.
Then he moved his body up, putting his cock in my mouth.

"Suck my big, German, boy cock, you cocksukcer."

It was obvious he was going to be an aggressive top someday.

After sucking his big, German, boy cock for a few minutes, I shot a
load and he shot one too.  I'll tell you there's nothing sweeter than
teenage cum pouring out of a teenager's dick.  This kid was really
something; he could have made a fortune in Nam.  He shot a big load.

JAY, ONE OF THE BOYS WITH KURT THAT FIRST DAY AT THE
PARK.

Two days after my work out with Kurt, he and Jay were knocking on
my door at 9:00 AM.  I hollered for them to wait, put my metal leg on
and hurried to let them in before someone saw them.

Kurt said, "Give me some money and I'll go get coffee and some
Danish rolls.

When he left, I trotted my 7-inch dick to the bathroom to piss, jumped
back into bed and pulled up the sheet.  It was too fucking early to play
the good host.

By being rude, I missed watching Jay shuck his clothes and get his
hard-on into bed but I felt it when he snuggled up to my back and
began dry fucking me between the legs, reached around and grabbed
it.  It definitely felt like it merited a look as well as a feel, so I
turned
around and looked at it.

Holy fucking shit.  The kid was maybe 14, had a real gift between his
legs -- six, fat inches with a meaty cockhead perfectly matched to his
shaft.

I'd just pissed off my morning woody but it was hard again -- harder
than my metal prosthesis.

Jay broke the silence with, "Kurt said you had a big one.  Let me suck
it.  Please!"

"No, I'll roll over to face you and you can turn around and we'll suck
each other at the same time!"

I've already told you that there's nothing sweeter than a teenager's
cum.  Well, there's nothing hotter, nothing more intense, than a
teenagers' lust.

Jay wasn't kidding.  He really did need to suck cock.  Isn't it just great
that more boys are born every minute and some of them grow up
queer - like that real old song Maurice Chevalier used to sing "Thank
Heaven for Little Boys, They Grow Up In The Most Unusual Ways." He
went to work on me as though I was going to take it away from him any
minute.

I did the same.  I loved that cock of his -- puffy, satisfying; you knew
you had a real cock in your mouth sucking him.  And he was so young
and so fucking cute.

He knew how to swallow, too - no hesitation, no gagging, he just
swallowed.  We'd milked each other for the last drop, he'd turned
around and we were sucking face when Kurt returned and cussed us
out.  "You assholes, you were supposed to wait for me!"

Jay said, "You didn't say that."

"You should have known that without being told."

I ended the debate, "Don't worry, Kurt, lets have our rolls and coffee
and we'll take care of you."

We did and good, too.

Jay never mentioned money.  Kurt didn't give me any change back
from the $20.00 I'd given him for coffee and rolls.  Either he forgot or
he considered that his fee.

That afternoon Melissa and I went down the mountain, at my
insistence, to buy a two-week supply of groceries, which I paid for.  On
the way she recounted all the trouble she was having with Kendall's
bank account; he left it up to her and she couldn't cope with it very well
between statements, so while we were in town I bought her an adding
machine and showed her how to use it.

She hoped that now she could be specific when he brought up money
questions, thus slowing down his buying beer the last week of the
month.

On the way back up the mountain, we picked up a hitchhiker who lived
in a mobile home park on the edge of Climax.  Melissa being with us
was the only reason I didn't rape the kid.  Dark brown hair bleached in
a wide streak at one side, fair skinned, brown eyed and skinny.  I could
damn near crème just fantasizing about what he would look like naked.
I ran into him twice before leaving Climax to go home but he wasn't to
be had.  Shit, I even out-and-out asked him for some but he said he
wasn't gay.  I was so embarrassed.  I felt like telling him he might not
be gay but he sure looked and acted like a cock teaser.  Guess you
can't have them all.

RANDY

Randy was the next one I did have and several times.  He appeared
one day and everyone apparently knew him but hadn't seen him for a
while.  After a while he drifted over to me and his story was that he was
a carpenter's helper, had lived in Climax for three months last summer
working for a contractor on a home remodeling but after the job was
finished he had left and gone home to Modesto.  Recently, the same
contractor had called him saying he had another job, he'd come back
but the job didn't materialize.

He was sleeping on the porch of a small, log cabin style building in the
park, broke, hungry and feeling down.  He had spent several nights
fucking some cunt all night and sleeping in her apartment during the
day -- it ended when she accused him of stealing stuff.

He was 18, short, blond, crew cut, dazzling blue eyes.  He had a good
build but was still trim.  He was bare-chested, had rings through each
of his generously large nipples, above which he had doves tattooed;
above one dove was tattooed "Sweet" and above the other one "Sour".
They both tasted sweet to me when I got the chance to suck on them
later on.  He also had his name tattooed across the small of his back.
One guy was sure he'd gotten the tattoos in prison, but I figured he
was too young to have been in prison -- maybe some juvenile detention
center.

I also figured he was straight, but straight or gay he turned me on.
What turned me on more than anything else about him was the way he
kept shifting his weight from one foot to the other while standing and
the way he kept jiggling his right leg when seated.  He seemed to be
nervous as hell and in need of relaxing.  He also made a lot of eye
contact with me and talked constantly -- another sign of nervousness.

I asked him if people weren't tempted to pull on his tit rings.  He replied
that once in a while a girl did.  I'd heard it was kind of kinky to suck a
guy's tits when they had tit rings in them, but I didn't tell him that.  The
first night, after what he'd told me about being broke, I took him to
dinner at the one and only decent restaurant in town.  He said the
bartender there was keeping his backpack behind the bar for him.

That opened things up, and while we were having after dinner coffee, I
asked if he wanted to stay with me, explaining I had a bungalow across
the driveway from Kendall's, no furniture except for a double bed.

He wanted to so we left the restaurant.

He showered first, and after I showered and walked out of the
bathroom with a towel around my waist, he was propped up on one
elbow, reading a magazine and had been playing with his meat, or at
least I thought he had -- maybe he just had one of those short, thick
ones that look about the same soft as they do hard.

"I'm not gay but I've fooled around.  This is the only way I can repay
you if you're interested."

I went back into the bathroom, hung up the towel, walked back to the
bed reached down and pulled the tit ring on his right tit, he dropped the
magazine on the floor and rolled over on his back.  That enabled me to
pull on both tit rings at the same time.

He said, "Not too hard." so I stopped, got into bed, and started sucking
them.  It seemed to turn him on, so I started biting them.  That really
got him going.  From what I'd done to him, his reaction, and from what
he said, I pegged him as passive, at least with men.   So what, he was
a nice hunk of young manhood to be in bed with, so I fooled around
with him until I had him hot as hell, talking rapidly and asking me when
I was going to suck his cock.

I said "Later" and got out of bed.  "We've got all night.  We don't have
to get up until we want to, so lets make it last."

I tossed him my cigarettes, lighter and a clean ashtray saying, "Just
don't burn the bed up.  And, what do you want to drink, beer or Vodka
Martinis on the rocks?  I've got exactly two glasses."

After asking what I was going to have, he had the same, Vodka
Martinis.  Good, I hoped he'd get soused so I could throw a fuck into
his boy pussy with my big dick.  After all, if he was fooling around with
men, as he'd said, sooner or later he was going to get fucked.  I might
as well be the one to pop his cherry.

It took awhile, he had a capacity for alcohol, but after an hour or so he
rested his head on my arm, I turned and kissed him, which sort of took
him by surprise.  "I've never been kissed by a man before."  He didn't
say anything when I put my index finger up his ass but objected loudly
when I tried to replace it with my erection.

After three Martinis I was surprised he'd noticed, but he did.  So, I just
kept kissing him, fondling his meat, sucking on it now and then and his
balls, too.  I knew he was hot and I just kept pleading -- telling him I'd
go slow and wouldn't hurt him. I just wanted to make love to him.

He came back with "I liked you the minute I saw you this afternoon, I'd
like to let you fuck me but I'm afraid. I've never been fucked."

"I know, that's why I want you so bad.  I'll go slow and easy. I'll pull it
back out if it hurts too much"

Shit, I didn't even have it all the way in until he was saying it was too
big and it hurt.  I kept telling him I didn't even have it in; when I got it
all
the way in and started fucking him, he'd like it."

But he just wasn't about to give me some so I sipped the last of my
drink, lit a cigarette and we talked some more.  I had all night if
necessary and I wasn't about to give up.  Every time I looked at his
nipples and his fat cock I got hotter to get to him. Then he asked if he
could have another drink and if I minded if he had a joint.  I told him I
didn't have any.  He said he did in his backpack we'd brought back
with us from the bar.

When I got up to mix the drinks I also felt around in my luggage and
found a bottle of poppers.  I thought I might as well try them on him.

Back in bed, I opened the brown bottle, took a hit in each nostril and
started masturbating.  He remarked that I was really getting it up and
asked what was in the bottle.  Taking a clue from Kurt, I rubbed my
cock all over his lower body, dry fucked him between his legs, rubbed it
up and down his stomach as far as his navel, told him what a
handsome, young boy he was, told him I wish I could have watched
him sink that fat cock of his into that pussy he'd been fucking until she
kicked him out.  Asked him if he'd ever fucked cunt while someone was
watching and if he'd find that exciting and asked him if I could kiss him
again, which he let me do.

Still no progress as far as getting it in and I had to piss, so I hobbled
off
to the bathroom.  I was about to leave when he came in, grabbed the
lube off the washbasin and rubbed it all over my dick and told me to sit
on the rim of the bathtub. I guessed what he was going to do -- the
magic moment had arrived.  He took a hit from the poppers and
passed them to me, then put his hands on my shoulders, stepped up
onto the rim of the tub and started to slowly lower his backdoor, boy
vagina all the way down on my hard cock, telling me to tongue fuck his
mouth while he fucked my cock off.  It was a long fuck.  We each took
two more hits from the bottle before we climaxed, almost
simultaneously -- me seven inches deep in his love hole and he all over
my stomach and up onto my chest.  Shit, it had all been too easy once
things got moving -- I wondered if he was a virgin or if he'd done it
before.  Anyway he was now no more a virgin than I was.  Hell, come
to think of it I was still a virgin; nobody had even gotten his dick up my
ass, as yet.

I guess fucking him made him a tiny bit queer.  After that first time, he
was like some women; there just wasn't enough cock to keep him
satisfied.  I could understand that.  I had the same problem.

A storm came up during the night that first night, woke him up, he woke
me up, rolled over on his back and held his legs up in the air.  It was
fuck time again for Randy!  With all the thunder and lightening it was
almost too exciting.  I was jamming my 7-inches into him really hard
and hoping a streak of lightening didn't come through the open window
and fry my balls off.  He stayed two more days, I gave him a hundred
bucks and he hitchhiked back to Modesto.  Including the two times I'd
fucked him that first night, my cock had plowed out his love hole five
times.   Before he walked out the door that morning to leave, he gave
me a long kiss, reached down and grabbed my junk though my pants
and said he really appreciated all I'd done for him -- the money and the
sex.

When he was packing up to leave he wanted to know if I'd give him
what as left of the bottle of poppers because they really made you cum
big time and made you dick spit out a lot of juice.


LARRY AND HIS STEPDAD

I told you I'd get back to tell to you about Larry.  One evening, early, I
took a vacation from my vacation, went down the mountain, had
dinner, went to a movie and got home about ten o'clock.   I pulled into
the complex's drive between the cottages and in the semi-darkness,
beyond the headlights; I could see three or four guys pissing around
the grounds of the cottages.

Melissa wouldn't let them come in the house to use the toilet, or, for
that matter, to use the toilet to cum in the house.  At night they pissed
anywhere, in daylight it was more of a problem.  Larry and his step
dad, John had asked me if they could use my bathroom and, along
with one or two others, had started using it regularly.

I'd no more than stopped the pickup than Larry opened my door asking
me to hurry, saying he had to piss like a Trojan.  He was also so
fucking drunk he could hardly get through the door to the house.
Needing to take a leak myself, and to see that he didn't fall, I followed
him to the bathroom and we pissed together.  I guess pissing with a
man got to him a little sexed up and he started erecting.  I didn't even
ask him, the minute his stream stopped I shoved him against the wall,
held him there with one hand and with the other pulled on his shorts
until they dropped to the floor, aimed my mouth for his teen aged peter
and started sucking away.

I was just swallowing my cocksucker's reward of hot, sticky, boy juice
when John, his step dad, came in.  I started saying my prayers, sure I
was at death's door and the thought flashed through my mind that I'd
never had a will drawn up -- now I was about to die intestate and I
always hated that word -- it always sounded to me like something that
was wrong with your bowels or your testicles.  Luckily for me John was
drunker than Larry and smelled of pot, too.

He looked down at me, helped me up to my feet, or foot rather, and
asked me if I was sober enough that we could take Larry home; he'd
show me where he lived.  I hadn't had one drink as yet, but John was
damn near out of it I thought, but all of them that hung around
Kendall's porch had a tremendous capacity for alcohol -- how else
could they stand to drink it all day long.

He held Larry up while I pulled up the kid's pants and then he carried
him out and dumped him on my bed, staggered back to the bathroom
and dropped his pants to take a piss.  After he finished pissing he
started playing with himself and his big cock started slowly lengthening
through 7, through 8 and then capped off at almost nine inches of fully
erected, fully aroused cockmeat.  It was so fucking hard I wanted to go
down on it right then and there.  It was so fucking beautiful I thought
my eyes were going to pop out of their sockets.  I couldn't keep my
eyes off it's massive shaft, bull balls and it's swollen, circumcised
cockhead that had poured such a huge steam out of its piss slit and
into my toilet. It was a fucking, living, cock fantasy -- a gay's dream; I
might never flush the damn toilet again.

He shook it off, pushed my head down in front of it and said "I don't
want Larry hanging around here any later tonight. His mother's going
to kill me as it is.  And I don't want him here when you suck me off."

"You mean you're going to give me that tonight?"

"You were sucking Larry.  You're evidently a cocksucker, so I'll give
you a real cock to suck."

He was drunk but still managed to talk some sense. "Let's not play
games.  I'm no fag but I can use some now and then like everybody
else, I'm drunk and I need some tonight."

"I'd think you'd have a line waiting for that thing."

"I don't mess with married women, that's a good way to get shot and a
lot of women find me too big, they can't take it."

I was hoping to hell that I could.  I'd never seen one as big as John's
let alone have an offer to take it."

It was a wild adventure getting Larry home.  Larry was the easy part.
The apartment was on the first floor apartment and you could park right
in front of the door.  John got Larry's arm up and over his shoulder,
carried him in and was back out in a flash.  He'd just dumped him on
his bed.  His mom was still out looking for something to pick up at the
bar.

Within that flash of time, he'd also unbuttoned his pants, was holding
them up with his left hand and putting a joint to his lips with his right
hand as he walked back and closed the door.

As soon as he was in the pickup, he slammed the door shut, lit the joint
and pushed his pants down and off the edge of the seat.  He wanted
me to suck him right then and there, but I refused.  There was nothing
right then that I wanted more than to go down on that big, hard dick of
his -- except I wanted it in bed, it was too good for a quickie, I wanted it
in bed, both of us naked.  I wanted to suck it for a long time and I knew
he'd pass out afterwards and I'd play with it the whole night. So he
settled for me holding it while I drove home, left handed. I sweat blood
the whole time praying a cop wouldn't roar up flashing his lights behind
me.  I was sober but I didn't think a cop would take kindly to me driving
with a big cocked drunk in the passenger seat smoking what the police
called an illegal substance.

When we got home, John got my bottle of Vodka from the fridge,
shucked his jeans, T-shirt, shoes and socks (all he was wearing),
folded and stuffed two pillows behind his head and spread his legs
wide -- he knew how to position himself -- he'd been sucked off before.
I got naked, grabbed a new bottle of poppers and took off my metal
leg. His dick had gone soft so I had the pleasure of sucking it back up
to it's full, erect, majestic size   I had left the bathroom light on and
the
door cracked so there was enough light in the room that I could see.

He jammed the pillows up under his head and looked down at me,
saying, "I like to watch a cocksucker work my dick over."  Those words
started the action. Here I was between the legs of a tall, well
developed, yet lanky, young man, probably in his late twenties, who
hung out in a tough crowd, an outdoorsman, a mountain man, one that
I'd stared at every chance I could when I thought I could get away with
it, a real man's man but one that I'd never dreamed of having sexually.
He just seemed above and beyond that, but I stared anyway
sometimes and dreamed anyway, because he was that good looking.
I've told you I like boys. I'd just swallowed his stepson's cock juice, but
I sure wasn't going to pass up going down on this guys fuck tool. I took
a hit from the brown bottle, lifted up his huge, flaccid, pleasure pole
with the thumb and forefinger of my left hand and held it up as I closed
my lips around his cockhead, made my warm, already wet mouth into a
pussy and sucked it all the way in. I had to back off slightly when I got
his fucker completely coated with saliva and worked up to the
maximum that his cock could erect.  The head had gotten so big and
shiny I thought it was going to burst open; I'd squeeze his shaft at the
base and watched it get even bigger.

I looked up, he was looking at me and he'd lit a cigarette.  He was
totally passive like some straights were; they just laid back and let you
suck away until you made them shoot, unconcerned about how long it
took because it felt good to their dick in the meantime.  I guess they
were that way because it bothered their conscience less.

It reminded me of what a guy in Nam had told me about fucking a cunt
in a whorehouse in Saigon.  He was sex deprived, as we all were,
horned up, fucking away at full speed, banging her pussy, giving her all
he had and she was eating chocolates.  To her it was just one more
American soldier, one more dick, one more fuck.  Nothing was new
about it, nothing was exciting.  It was a job.  As soon as he finished,
she'd take a douche to get his cum out of her cunt and hope she had
enough time for another cigarette before the desk told the next
customer what her room number was and her next fuck walked in,
stripped naked and she took his stiff cock in her hand and guided it into
her fuck hole to repeat what was the umpteenth time for the day.
Sometimes she wished she were better educated.  She wished she'd
learned to read.  A book might be more diverting than eating
chocolates while she and her Saigon sisters fucked the American
Army.

That was fine with me, his hands were rough but his body was smooth
and pale.  He had no more than a few hairs in the center of his chest,
about like I had.  He was handsome and he had the biggest cock I'd
ever sucked. I held his cock in my mouth while I held the bottle up to
each nostril took a hit and started sucking again.

I had news for John, I knew that sooner or later his big cock would
blow a load of juice for me to swallow and sooner or later after that
he'd fall asleep and sleep the night in a drunken stupor.  As for me, I
intended to return again and again during the night to sucking his cock.
If it got hard while I was sucking it that would be fine, if it didn't that
would be fine, too.  I'd never spent a whole night just sucking cock and
his was so big it really didn't matter whether it was hard or soft.  It was
big either way and I was going to get high on poppers, suck it all night
and when I climaxed I'd climax all over his genitals and his pubes, take
a break, have another Martini, smoke another cigarette and suck him
some more.

Ten minutes after he shot a load that I swallowed, then swallowed
again and yet again.  His balls shot a big dickful of juice. In another five
minutes he passed out.  He was out so cold he didn't hear me when I
said aloud, "John, you handsome, big cocked, fucking stud, you're my
whore tonight, you can eat chocolates, you can look at a porn
magazine, you can go to sleep, you can dream of fucking pussy but
tonight your cock is mine, all mine, and I'm going to fuck your big cock
with my mouth all night long."

And that I did, plus more.  If he moved in his sleep I accepted it if he
moved into a position where I could access his cock, if it wasn't I
pushed him into a position that was acceptable to me.  Occasionally I
would get his cock hard.  During breaks, I'd just sit on the edge of the
bed and look at his genitals, fondle his big balls, or climb on top of him
and rub my dickhead along his lips, along the sides of his nose, across
his eyelids or rake it through his hair; then mount him and rub his cock
all over my face, my nipples and all over my cock and balls and
through my pubic hairs.

Luckily I'd undressed sitting on the edge of the bed and my T-shirt and
jockey shorts were piled up at the foot of the bed.  I barely managed to
grab them and hold them up to his cockhead when he started to piss in
his sleep.  It saved his getting the bed too wet.  Around 4 AM I
managed to get his cock really hard, his whole body jerked, he raised
his head, looked down at me and screamed  "Oh Jesus".

I don't know what he'd been dreaming of, if anything, but I knew I'd
assisted in his getting off, his wet dream, whatever it was and got
another big juicy load for my efforts.  We both slept late.  In the
morning, he didn't say thanks; he never mentioned anything about
what had happened.  Typical for those macho guys that like getting
sucked as much as any other queer but don't want to admit it.

I thought maybe he was so fucking drunk he didn't remember anything
about what happened.  That is until he asked, "Did I piss in your bed
last night?


VAL

	For the next week I relived the whole night I'd spent sucking
John's cock, over and over.  Then, in one instant, I forgot all about it.

	I was near the end of my stay in Climax when one evening I
noticed a young boy running up onto the street from a narrow, graveled
road, down a little and across the road from where Kendall lived.  The
lane had little traffic; all I knew about it was that I'd noticed it curved
down a hill and disappeared into the forest.  He came right up to the
apartment complex, turned into the driveway between the units and
disappeared behind my house, where I parked my pickup up close to
my unit and about 20 feet off the driveway. His actions were strange
enough that I got up to investigate and found him lying, face down, in
the bed of my pickup.

"What are you doing, playing hide and seek?"

"Go away, go away, I don't want her to find me."

He sounded so frightened and his voice had such an aura of urgency
that I said, "OK".  He obviously had a problem and he was such a doll I
decided that whatever the problem was I was on his side.

I'd no sooner walked back up the driveway between the cottages to
Kendall's than a car came down the street, slammed on the brakes,
turned into our driveway and cruised slowly down it, backed up and did
a repeat.  When she stopped in front of my unit I approached her car
and asked "Are you looking for someone, can I help you?"  She was
really wired up and responded, "Did you see a young kid come in here
a few minutes ago?"

"Boy or girl?"

"Boy."

"No."

"Mind if I look?"

"Are you his mother?"

"No."

Then I mind.  You're on private property, I don't like your entering it
and if you don't leave I'll call 911."  With that said I pulled my cell
phone out of my pocket to prove I could and in a hurry, too."

She responded with "Fuck you, bastard!"

I shot back with "I wouldn't fuck you with some other's guys dick, you
cunt."  (Isn't it terrible how fast you can turn crude when you get pissed
off?)

She put her car in reverse and her tires screeched as she backed out
and damn neat hit another car.  I wondered what she was so fucking
up tight about, so I went back to back to my pickup and asked the kid.
He'd obviously heard what happened, jumped out of the bed of the
truck, slung his arms around me, hugged me and said, "Thanks, you
really clobbered that bitch."  (Guess he didn't like her either.)

"OK, the Wicked Bitch of the North is Gone, so why don't you tell me
what's up, there is obviously a story behind all this."

"I don't know if I can?"

"Oh yes you can, it will be easy.  Just start at the very beginning and
tell me what happened.  I won't interrupt you and if I have any
questions I'll ask you later.  How old are you, do you want a beer?"

"I'm 17 and I've drank beer before and I really need one, two, or three
right now."  We went inside my unit, sat on the edge of the bed and he
started with his story.  Just sitting next to him and looking at him made
me want to fuck him -- he was tall, skinny, had a crew cut, high cheek
bones that sloped down to a narrow chin.  His brows were heavy; his
eyes were big and blue.  Any girl would have traded him for his
eyelashes and his lips.

He was from Terri Haute, Indiana, had recently graduated from high
school and decided to hitchhike to San Francisco because he didn't
get along with the man his mom had married in his sophomore year
shortly after his dad was killed in an automobile accident.  His previous
ride decided to call it a day, stop at Elko, Nevada, do a little gambling
and retire early.  It was yesterday, around 5 o'clock in the evening,
when a young woman picked him up saying she was going to
California, not quite as far as San Francisco, but he could stay
overnight with her and start out again in the morning.  They stopped in
Reno and she bought him dinner.

Then, she turned off the interstate onto a mountain road and ended up
on the gravel road at her house about a half-mile down the graveled
road. Right after she turned off the Interstate she used her cell phone,
called her roommate and told her to call Myrtle.  They didn't have any
beer, but had him drinking Bourbon.  He was worried they were going
to get him drunk and want him fuck one or the other of them and he
didn't know how and didn't want to learn right then.  He also hoped it
wasn't Myrtle because she was big and kind of had a face like a man,
without a beard.

To make a long story short, they ganged up on Val, undressed him and
tied his hands over his head and to an exposed beam on the ceiling of
the second story apartment above a double garage with an attached
storage area below.  After they got him naked then they all undressed,
the woman who had given him the ride told him to spread his legs.
She laid face up on the floor with her head between Val's legs,
reached up and started playing with his penis and his testicles as her
roommate fingered her pussy until she got her all worked up. Then her
roommate started eating her pussy until she got all hot and excited and
told Myrtle to fuck me.  I hadn't been concentrating on Myrtle, but by
then she had a big, rubber cock without balls attached to a belt that
wrapped around the top of her legs.  She squeezed something out of a
tube along her finger, stuck her finger in my bottom and twisted it
around.  When she put that big rubber cock into my bottom I started
crying.  It really hurt and it still does.

Then he started crying again.  I pulled him over to me, he leaned his
head on my chest, I held him and let him have a good cry.  When he
stopped, I said, "Val, I only have two questions:  How did you get out of
there and do you have any need to return?"

"The girl and her roommate left to pick up Myrtle, saying she just lived
down the road and would be right back.  I looked and knew I couldn't
jump out of the windows of a second story building.  The driveway
sloped steeply away from the garage doors I knew I'd just tumble on
down. The other three sides had huge rocks all over.  I'd hurt myself
trying any window I chose.   I decided to try the door and was so
excited when I found they'd forgotten to lock the door I forgot my
backpack and just started running."

"And you need or want the backpack?"

"Yes, it has my driver's license, an address book and some travelers
checks my mom bought for me along with my billfold."

"Let's go get it!  But give me a minute first."

I ran across the drive to Kendall's, asked him to step around the
corner, told him the problem, my intentions and asked if he knew
anyone local in the sheriff's department.  He took my cell phone and
called someone named Carl, who luckily was on duty and asked him if
he could come over.

I explained it all over again to Carl and asked if he'd take Val and I
down there to get Val's backpack back.  He asked if I was lodging a
complaint.  I told him no.  He said he really shouldn't get mixed up in it.

I told him I was about ready to go back to Phoenix, had gotten $300
cash from the bank yesterday on a Master Card.  It was his if he'd just
follow Val and I down in my truck.  He could just sit in his car while Val
and I went up the stairs and talked to the woman.  He agreed.
We evidently arrived, unnoticed, during one of their sex games, as it
was a while before the woman answered the door.  She said she was
just getting in the shower and demanded to know what this was all
about. She looked all flushed -- shower hell -- shed been playing
games with her two lesbian friends.

Very sharply, she asked, "What do you want?"

"If you will just bring this boy's backpack to the porch here and after he
looks through it and finds his possessions all in order we'll leave."

I waved to Carl; he started the lights atop his car flashing -- but no
siren.

"Does he have a search warrant?"

"No, but I don't think that's his first priority.  He'll be more interested
in
asking questions about child abuse, sodomy with a dildo, that sort of
thing that took place here, last night."

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about."

"Well, just bring the backpack and you won't have to convince a
fucking judge and a fucking jury that you don't know what the fuck I'm
talking about."

Before we even got back home, Val asked if he could go back to
Phoenix with me.

TO BE CONTINUED