Out of the Woods

Kenny was staring off into the darkness when Mark got home. He lay in bed with his fingers laced behind his head, not saying anything as Mark navigated silently until the boy bumped into the night stand.

"Ow, shit!" he hissed.

"You can turn the light on," Kenny said. "I'm awake." The bedside lamp came to life and Kenny shielded his eyes. He tried to focus on Mark rubbing his abused shin.

"Can't sleep?" Mark asked, still grimacing in pain.

"Nah. It's been a weird night."

Mark pulled off his shirt and tossed it carelessly into the corner. "Did Johnny..."

"Yeah," Kenny said. "You should have heard them. Andy was yellin' like crazy."

"Ooh," Mark frowned in sympathy. "Johnny must have nailed the poor kid the first night."

"No, I don't think so. It sounded like good yelling to me. You know, like cumming."

"Well that's cool, huh?" Mark said, peeling the pants and briefs down his slim, hairless body. "He should be fun to fool around with if he gets into it that much."

Kenny pulled back the covers for his friend. "There's something else weird going on, too," he said.

"Like what?" Mark asked, climbing into bed next to Kenny and snapping off the light. They snuggled their nude bodies together as they did every night, and Kenny tenderly put his arm around him.

"Johnny wants us to go slow with Andy for a few days. Guess he's afraid of scaring him off."

"He doesn't seem like the type that's scared of sex," Mark said. "When I took him for his shower he just stripped down right in front of me and didn't think anything of it." After a pause Mark added, "And he's got one majorly hot ass, too."

"Yeah, I'll bet," Kenny said. "That's the other weird thing. Johnny says nobody touches Andy's butt, even after Johnny gets him. Not even a finger."

"Bummer!" Mark said. "Johnny's getting selfish in his old age."

"I don't know what it's all about but there's something going on."

"Johnny always has something going on," Mark said.

They cuddled in silence for a moment, the younger boy's rhythmic breathing having its usual calming effect on Kenny. A little more of this and he just might get some sleep after all.

"Then I had to deal with Monkey Boy," he said.

Mark chuckled. "Barry. He's so weird. What happened?"

Kenny stroked Mark's smooth bare shoulder. "Not that much, really. He was pissed when I told him he had to move out of Johnny's room and in with Kyle. I had to put my hand over his mouth or Johnny would've heard him for sure, but then all of a sudden he just stomped back out the door and didn't say a word."

"Where did he go?"

"How should I know? But I checked Kyle's room a little while ago and Barry wasn't there."

"Whoa!" Mark said. "I was pissed when Johnny kicked me out so a new kid could move in -- remember that black kid Darius? But I got over it, you know what I mean?"

"Yeah," Kenny sighed. "It's no fun being yesterday's news. Barry's a pain in the ass, but I hope he's OK."

"Me too," Mark said, and snuggled closer to Kenny, yawning.

They lay in silence for several minutes and Kenny thought Mark had fallen asleep. He stared into the darkness and absorbed the boy's warmth. Kenny didn't know what he'd have done these last months without the unwavering affection of his friend. Like all these boys Kenny had gone from no love at all in his life to the kind Johnny offered, and it felt wonderful and he would always be grateful for it. It may even have saved his life. But Johnny's love had strings attached and so it could never compare to the kind he got right here in this bed from a boy who gave his heart and soul without reserve. Mark would always be his adopted brother, no matter what, and Kenny would always try to be a good big brother and take care of him. Mark was the best thing in his life.

He felt a familiar touch.

"Feeling frisky tonight?" Kenny asked, grinning into the darkness. "Usually the hawks have worn you out by this time."

"Well," Mark said softly, "I was thinking you could pretend I'm Andy. You can call me his name and everything, and I'll squeeze real tight so it feels like the first time."

"Why would you say something like that?"

"I know how much you like him, and I figure it's buggin' you big time that he's in there with Johnny and not here with you. I don't mind, really," he said, "if it'll make you happy."

Kenny didn't speak for a moment, marveling at the depth of Mark's generosity. Then he turned, taking Mark in his arms and pulling him in, his leg firmly between the boy's warm, smooth thighs. He kissed Mark fully, even more passionately than usual.

"You know what would make me happiest of all?" he whispered.

"What?"

"To make it with the coolest kid I know -- a boy named Mark."

Their kiss was joined again and lasted longer than before. Kenny had no thoughts of Andy as his passion rose and he knew he was about to have the boy he most wanted in the world. He was still attracted to Andy, more than he'd ever been to anyone, but there was no doubt that right at that moment Mark had his heart in a firm grip.

They broke the kiss and Mark turned onto his side. Kenny moved up quickly behind him and reveled in the sweet softness and the heat that pressed back at him. He cuddled against Mark for a long time, nibbling soft kisses on his shoulder and neck while his fingers spread cool, silky lube onto his own dickhead. It was lovely, anticipating the familiar tightness that would soon enfold him.

"Are you ready, Marky?" he whispered, drawing himself up for that wonderful, first plunge that both he and his young friend loved so much, but Mark didn't move, and his breath came slow and steady. "Mark?" Kenny asked a bit louder, but he knew that despite the youngster's generous intentions he had simply run out of gas.

Kenny had never loved Mark more than he did at that moment. He chuckled softly in the dark and reached into his nightstand drawer for his trusty jizz rag to wipe off the unneeded lube. He settled down once again against the boy's back, hugged Mark close with both arms and with a deep sigh gave himself up to sleep as well.

8:36 am

It was as if his eyelids were epoxied closed. With an effort Andy peeled open first one, then the other, and blinked several times before he could focus. Muted light bathed the room in a pleasant beige tint, the color of the delicate pleated shades, and the steam heat hissed gently and, somehow, reassuringly.

He didn't know precisely where he was but he was getting used to that and he wasn't alarmed. He was more concerned with how weird he felt, his body pressing into the mattress with seemingly twice his normal weight and his brain so sludgy-slow it was like his head was full of maple syrup. His tongue was dry and scratched against his lips, and tasted like he had been licking ashtrays. Uncomfortable as he was his body still didn't want to move, although with each passing second his full bladder became a more and more urgent incentive to haul himself out of bed.

He overcame the inertia enough to throw the covers off of his chest, but that was about all he could do for the moment and he had to slide his lower body out from under and kick them away as best he could. All his available energy was used and he slumped there, chin on his chest, looking down at himself. He was naked, and for an instant he thought he might be in Charlie's guest room, but then some bit of remembrance swam through the molasses and he knew that wasn't right.

As he pondered who had undressed him and put him to bed Andy slowly became aware of a strange sensation, and his head full of mush required several seconds to identify it as an itch just below his belly button. He slid a hand down and was surprised to find his ordinarily smooth skin covered with odd, crusty patches such as he'd never encountered before. Andy was puzzled for a moment but by then the itch had been satisfied and the question ceased to be of any urgency to his lumbering mind. He yawned deeply, like a lion in the zoo.

It was not a child's room, a look around made apparent. It was incredibly neat, the only disarray being Andy's borrowed clothes draped across the desk chair. The room was very sleek and modern with a black lacquered dresser and armoire that matched the high headboard looming above his head. There was an entertainment center with a big TV and five or six other impressive components covered with lights and knobs and digital readouts that might play compact discs, or perhaps track a moon launch. In front of that was a low lounge chair, a black leather sling-like affair suspended in five places from a polished chrome frame. It looked like a giant stingray gliding across the ocean floor in one of those nature videos they showed at school, if stingrays dressed like Gestapo agents in old movies.

The only thing in the whole room that didn't look like the very latest thing was a cherry wood writing desk that was obviously very old yet didn't have a scratch on it's highly polished surface. Other than a brass banker's lamp the desk was bare. The room's most prominent feature by far was a huge mirror that spanned the width of an entire wall. In it Andy could clearly see the full length of his own nakedness and he had to wonder why anyone would ever need such a big mirror, and not even in the bathroom.

The room was grownup and expensive and cool, words that immediately brought his mind to Johnny. The very name brought a smile to Andy's lips and a lightness to his heart, though strangely he couldn't remember much about their first evening together. Shadows of recollection shimmered in the distance, but there was no coherence to them. The only thing he was quite sure of was that he had enjoyed himself very much.

"You're awake," he heard. Andy's heart filled with excitement at the sound of Johnny's voice. It was like a shot of adrenaline and the cobwebs seemed to clear from his brain the instant he turned to his new friend.

Johnny was as naked as the boy, leaning in the bathroom doorway with one strong shoulder against the jamb and his muscular arms folded across his chest. It was the first really good look Andy had ever had at a grown man's naked body, except an occasional glimpse of his father in the shower, or passed out nude after a bender. Despite something nagging at him that it was terribly impolite he couldn't stop his eyes from roaming Johnny's trim, athletic form.

A boy could certainly do worse than to grow up to look like Johnny. His wavy brownish-blond hair, strong jaw and intense green eyes made him movie-star handsome to Andy, who would have thought so even without the puppy-love that now quickened his pulse. Johnny wasn't a bruiser like Andy's father -- maybe six-feet and one-eighty compared to the Old Man's six-five, two-forty -- but he was square-shouldered and solid, with a slim waist and narrow hips. He was obviously in great shape; compact and toned in perfect, normal proportion.

Inevitably Andy's eyes were drawn to that place on a man that is most unlike a boy, the thick, darker-skinned penis hanging flaccid across heavy, loose balls. It was so different from the springy little finger between Andy's legs that never really hung straight down but pudged out from his immature body in perpetual semi-erection. Suddenly Andy flashed on a close-up image of a big cock, Johnny's cock, standing out full and straight. It wasn't a fantasy, it was a memory, and somehow he also knew how it felt to hold that thick, hot thing in his hand.

Gnats of memory flitted around his head; they darted and ducked, then stitched themselves into a lacy fabric that was full of holes but finally substantial enough to see. Strong arms held Andy close, chest fur tickled against his own bare skin, warm kisses pressed on his face and lips, then nibbled down his chest and belly and finally...

His eyes widened in alarm, and Johnny looked on with an amused, knowing smile, as if to congratulate Andy on finally catching up to reality. It had all been real, even that giant prick in his hand. He remembered now, its scorching heat, its pulsing firmness, the undeniable power that had thrilled him just to behold it. Now lying naked with Johnny so close, that strong, masculine body on open display just steps away, the full impact of the night before crystallized in Andy's mind.

He struggled to pull details out of the oatmeal in his head. Johnny had lain on him, kissing him and rubbing against him, and there was something thick and hot and sticky... Andy jerked his hand back down to his belly and found a crusty patch of Johnny's dried fluid and he remembered everything: the whispered words of love, the caresses each lavished on the other, the warmth and gentle ecstasy of Johnny's mouth. And now the memory was all it took to coax Andy once again to full, straining ardor.

"So," Johnny beamed, his eyes trained on the result of Andy's recollection. "I'd ask how you feel, but it looks like you're doin' all right."

Andy looked at himself and flushed in embarrassment. No human being had ever seen his boner before, and even though Johnny had already done a lot more than see it Andy's first impulse was to hide himself. But something in Johnny's eyes held him immobile and he felt his breath coming shallower and his heart beating faster.

In that one second Andy came face-to-face with a stunning self-truth; that he hoped with all his young heart that Johnny would come back to bed and love him again the way he had last night. He realized even as it happened that he had surrendered without a fight, abandoning everything he ever supposedly knew about how men and boys were supposed to act. He knew this was queer, and queer was wrong by most of the world's standards, but even as his heart pounded in fear it was wonderfully liberating to realize that he didn't give a damn. The world with its standards had always treated him like shit and he didn't owe it a thing.

"Morning," Andy said, but it came out more of a croak.

Johnny frowned in sympathy. "Cottonmouth," he said. "One of the minor down-sides of marijuana."

"My mouth tastes like mud," Andy said, and was gratified when Johnny smiled.

"How about a nice drink of water?" Johnny said, turning to the sink and filling a glass.

Andy expected him to bring it over to the bed but instead he only held it up in offering, and so the boy rolled unsteadily to his feet and padded over to get it. He knew that Johnny had made him get up just to watch him walk naked across the room, and the look on Johnny's face confirmed that he very much enjoyed the show. It flattered Andy that Johnny liked his body and he loved that the two of them were so comfortable together totally nude.

He remembered how weird Charlie had been about nudity and he wondered again about it. Charlie had certainly looked at him that first morning, a lot like Johnny was looking at him now, but while Charlie retreated like a hermit crab into its shell Johnny celebrated it as the most wonderful thing ever. Andy liked Johnny's way a lot better.

He slugged down the glass of water and then another, in his hurry dribbling some down his chin and onto his chest. Johnny traced his index finger through the drops and the boy's pulse raced at the contact. Then, when Johnny eased his hand over to one pointed nipple and teased it gently with a thumb Andy involuntarily sucked in his breath in excitement.

"I've got an idea," Johnny said. "Why don't you go pee and then let's take a shower."

"Together?"

"Of course," Johnny replied with an easy, reassuring smile. "You're in my life now, kiddo. We're gonna do lots of things together."

Andy gazed up at Johnny with enough light in his eyes to power the city. He stood in front of the toilet and bent his stiffie downward until it hurt, but try as he might nothing happened.

"I can't pee," he said sheepishly. "I need to real bad, but it won't come."

Johnny grinned and put his arm around Andy's bare shoulders. "Hard to piss through a blue-steel boner, isn't it?" he laughed. "Never mind," Johnny said, "You'll be able to in a little while, after you relax."

Johnny steered Andy to the shower and the boy gasped in surprise. The wide glass door was not frosted, allowing him to see clearly into the giant tile cubicle which was at least three times bigger than the usual tub-and-plastic-curtain affair Andy was used to. There were shower heads on three walls, one of which could snake down from its holder by a flexible metal hose and double as a hand-held massager. Along the back wall was a bench made of redwood slats, easily big enough for a grownup to stretch out on, and Andy wondered if people really showered lying down.

Johnny ushered him inside, clicked the door closed behind them and reached for the faucet handle. Andy cringed and braced himself for the cold blast he thought would come but the spray was nearly the perfect temperature right from the start.

"I wouldn't freeze your cute little ass the very first day," Johnny said, and Andy's sharp laugh echoed off the walls. "There's a special water heater just for this shower."

He was bragging a little, but Andy didn't mind. He was still reveling in being called cute, or at least his little ass being called that. There was no protest that guys aren't cute as he had with Charlie, but then a lot of things were different than they were a week ago.

"I think I can pee now," Andy said in mild embarrassment.

"Go ahead," Johnny said, and when Andy reached for the door handle he smiled and said, "No, just do it."

Andy's mouth opened in surprise. "In here?"

"Sure," Johnny said. "That drain in the floor goes to the same sewer pipe as the toilet does. Besides, I want to watch."

Andy gave a sheepish smile, not sure if he was being teased, but when Johnny gestured again at the floor drain the boy realized he wasn't kidding. His dick had lost a bit of stiffness to this strange situation and he knew he'd be able to pee, and he guessed if Johnny wanted to watch it was OK with him.

Andy pointed his semi-erect penis at the floor drain and willed himself to relax. A warm wave seemed to course through him and in a second the golden stream was pouring out of him. Wonderful relief enveloped him and he felt his nervousness ebbing away. He grinned up at Johnny who smiled in appreciation. The stream dribbled off to nothing and Andy watched the yellow swirl until it disappeared down the drain.

"OK, so it is kinda gross," Johnny said, squirting some body wash in a circle around the drain and swishing it a few times with his foot. "Careful in case that's slippery."

Andy stepped back toward Johnny, avoiding the drain.

"Get yourself wet," Johnny said gently, yet commandingly. He looked the boy over with appreciation in his eyes and Andy found himself putting his body on display, turning one way then the other, grinning as he watched Johnny's enthusiastic reaction. He stopped just short of striking poses and fully enjoyed having Johnny's complete attention.

Andy ducked his head under one of the three sprays and soaked his long hair, tossing it back and reaching up with both hands to slick it out of his face. When he met Johnny's eyes again the man was gazing with undisguised lust and Andy's heart pounded in excitement.

Johnny still had the shower gel in his hand and squeezed out a generous amount. He lathered it up slowly, never breaking eye contact, and Andy could feel raw anticipation rising along with the steam.

"Turn around," was Johnny's next quiet command, and Andy immediately complied. He stared off at the shining clean tile wall and wondered what remarkable new experience his friend had planned. In a second he had part of the answer as Johnny's muscular stomach pressed firmly against his back and two big hands full of suds came around and began slowly, sensuously lathering his chest. A soft, high moan escaped Andy. His fantasy/memory/desire was becoming real again and he eagerly gave himself up to it.

"You're incredible!" Johnny whispered. "I could make love to you forever!" He began to nuzzle and kiss Andy's neck as his strong fingers played the slippery bubbles around the boy's smooth, taut chest and belly. Andy closed his eyes and luxuriated in the extraordinary feelings.

"You're so beautiful," Johnny breathed into his ear and Andy's chest inflated. The term had nothing to do with gender anymore; none of that mattered when one heart spoke to another. When Johnny said it Andy felt beautiful and desirable, and from there it was only a small step to -- dare he think it? Lovable? He made the leap eagerly, even desperately, and never questioned whether it was right or wrong. He was glad he'd been frightened, glad he'd been beaten, glad he'd eaten garbage if it brought him to this place. He'd do it all again just to feel the way he felt right now.

One big hand crept down his tummy and Andy gasped in anticipation of where he knew it was going, where he prayed it would go. Johnny's other hand came to Andy's chin and nudged his head up and back, and in a second their mouths were pressed together in a deep, crushing kiss. As the wonderful massage of his private parts began Johnny's tongue slipped into Andy's mouth and the boy noted the taste of mint mouthwash. The soul kiss was new and different, his memory of last night still hazy at best, but Andy accepted it enthusiastically. He happily chased the swirling tongue that darted this way and that until it suddenly withdrew and he met Johnny's eyes with unhidden disappointment.

"Give me yours, baby," Johnny said, and with a grin of understanding Andy pressed the kiss again, probing between Johnny's open lips with his own eager tongue and delighting in the feel of Johnny's slippery muscle and smooth teeth, and the stronger taste of mint. The hand in front was really working him now and Andy thrilled to this sensation, much more than anything he'd ever produced on his own.

He'd never felt the physical need mixed with such emotions before and it was overwhelming. Andy was losing control and his knees felt weak. Johnny guided Andy backwards until his legs hit the bench and he abruptly sat. Andy was confused, but lay back obediently when a big hand pushed him down at the chest. Johnny snatched down the flexible shower head and quickly rinsed the suds off of Andy and himself, then dropped it uncaring to the floor. In a second he was looming over the supine boy, facing the opposite direction and straddling him with one knee on the bench. Eagerly he engulfed the small, avid stiffness before him, and that long, stiff thing bobbed over Andy's face, the big, hairy balls hanging loosely, the water cascading off of them.

Andy was naive, even he knew that about himself, yet he knew full well what Johnny expected. He couldn't help a little trepidation and he hesitated.

"Do it for me, Andy," Johnny said.

Even in his agitated state the boy recognized from the tone that it was not a request. It was an order; a gentle one, but an order still. He wasn't expecting that and it was a bit disquieting, but he knew he would do anything Johnny wanted. His most fervent desire had been to belong to someone, someone who loved him, and now he did and he supposed part of belonging was obeying. It was something that he had never before experienced, wanting to obey out of love and respect and gratitude, rather than from intimidation and fear.

He reached for it.

The sense-memory of the previous night flooded back to him and suddenly the big man-cock felt familiar in his hand, comfortable and -- somehow -- just right. Andy tightened his grip and pulled at the smooth, taut skin. Johnny's soft moan vibrated around Andy's sensitive dick and brought back even more details of his inebriated debut the night before. He began to stroke the hot, hard thickness, quickly rediscovering the rhythm that Johnny had taught him and duplicating it with his own hip-thrusts into the deliciously hot mouth that so magnificently pleasured him.

Andy was clear-headed now and remembered his first night of passion with crystal memory. He knew exactly what he was doing and why, and what Johnny wanted next.

"Scrunch down a little," he said, surprised at the sound of his own high voice echoing off the tile walls. Johnny lowered himself a few inches and that deep-pink helmet of a cockhead hovered inches away. Andy's tongue came out and gave it a tentative lick, the taste and smoothness of it flooding back to him.

He eagerly took it, delighting in his ability to give his man such pleasure. Andy concentrated on doing all the things Johnny had asked for in the big, soft bed. He pumped his lips up and down over the head, and even though it tired his neck to hold his head up that way he took Johnny's cock as deeply as he could and held it for thirty seconds or so. When his breath ran out and he couldn't hold his head up any longer Andy dropped it back to the bench with a soft thunk, breathing heavily.

"Are you OK, baby?"

"It hurts my neck," Andy said sheepishly, as if it was a terrible failing on his part.

"It's OK, baby," Johnny said, climbing off of the boy. "Slide down to the floor on your knees."

Andy obeyed, and when Johnny sat on the bench before him and opened his legs Andy knew exactly what to do. He leaned in and eagerly took the cock back into his mouth, bobbing up and down, sucking deeply for a moment then pulling back to tease and tickle the tip with his tongue. He found himself enjoying the act itself as much as the pleasure he was giving, and knew it was for him as much as for Johnny.

Johnny reached down and smoothed the wet hair from Andy's face, and the boy looked up, smiling with his eyes. Steadily he worked the big dick, his small hand gripping it around the base while his mouth played all over it. Johnny's leg muscles tightened and his belly twitched. Andy knew something was happening but he didn't remember the exact details of how it had gone the night before. Johnny's hands gripped his head more tightly and Andy suddenly knew that his mouth was staying on Johnny's cock until the end, and then he remembered what that meant.

It was mildly alarming knowing that the strange, thick fluid was about to spurt directly into his mouth, but if that was what Johnny wanted it was what Andy wanted, too. He kept sucking, kept tickling the tip, kept pumping up and down while preparing himself for he didn't know what. If it was disgusting, so be it.

Johnny's belly heaved and his hips thrust upward. Something hot and thick surged through Johnny's cock, hitting the roof of Andy's mouth and pooling on his tongue. He was prepared for it to be terrible, tasting of piss or even worse, but it was rather bland and not so bad at all, and he knew he would be able to hold it in his mouth long enough for Johnny to finish, and then he could spit it down the drain.

Johnny surged again and another jet of stuff filled Andy's mouth. Again, no problem with the taste but it was getting to be a lot. Then a third surge came and Andy couldn't contain it all, white globs escaping his lips and running down his chin. Andy tried to pull off, finding his breath running out, but Johnny held his head tightly.

"Swallow it, Andy," the man commanded, more firmly than any order so far. There was still kindness and love in his eyes, but he was more than insistent. He was unmovable.

With apprehension Andy forced himself to relax his throat and swallow a little of the spunk. He was more than a bit disgusted, reminded of when he had a bad cold and his throat filled with thick phlegm, but when he saw the pleasure and approval register in Johnny's green eyes it filled the boy with elation.

He drank the rest in one large gulp.

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Next time:

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