Date: Thu, 14 Feb 2002 06:49:57 -0700
From: Clone Buggs <cqsqfq@hotmail.com>
Subject: Across the Alley part 18

Across the Alley XVIII


	We had some rough weather over the mid-West, and the plane was thrown
around the sky like a sheet of newsprint in a windstorm.  Phillip was
terrified, it being his first, and if he was to be believed, his last trip
on an airplane.  As we transited out of Kansas, down across New Mexico, the
turbulence smoothed out, and we sailed into Sky Harbor without so much as a
bump.  I thought he would drop down and kiss the ground when we landed,
until I pointed out we were still on the upper floor of the terminal.
	Phillip was almost in shock after the flight, and was looking around at the
terminal with wide eyes.  Dale and John were waiting for us at the baggage
claim, and were surprised to see me with a young man their own age.  I
introduced the boys to each other, and heard John comment under his breath.
	"Man you attract them like flies don't you?"  I grinned at him, and slapped
him on the back.
	"Aren't you glad I do?"  He grinned back at me and I could see he liked
what I'd brought home from New York.
	I knew Jack was at work, and didn't expect him to be at the airport, but I
sort of expected Danny.  When I asked the boys where he was, they both
shrugged.  I felt a pang of worry, but didn't know what to do about it.  We
piled into my Mercedes, with Dale driving, and Phillip and I sitting in the
tiny back seat.  As we drove out of the Airport, and picked up the Red
Mountain freeway to the Squaw Peak North, I pointed out the various peaks
that rise out of the Valley like monoliths of history.  I had to show him
how to think about Camelback to see the camel hidden in it, but he got it
and laughed.
	He wanted to know how far it was to the Grand Canyon, which was a hole in
the ground he really wanted to see.  He was a bit disappointed when I told
him it was a long drive North, and would have to planned as a trip.  We
stopped at my favorite Mexican restaurant for a bite, and as we were
entering, my cell phone rang.
	"Hello?"
	"Hey Dad."
	"Danny!  Where are you?  We just got in, and we're about to have a bite to
eat at El Comal.  Can you join us?"
	"Bill and I are in Tucson right now.  We were down in Nogales, visiting his
Uncle.  We've been trying to work out the problem with his parents.  We told
them day before yesterday, and the shit hit the fan.  His dad dropped a bit
of info about his brother in Mexico who was a Maricon.  We decided to go
talk to him about the problem to see if he had any influence with his
brother."
	"Any luck?"
	"Maybe.  Anyway, we'll be home in a few hours and will see you then."
	"Drive carefully."
	"See you soon."
	`We ate our meal with Phillip whistling about how hot everything was.  His
idea of Mexican food, had been a fast food chain that had a Chihuahua pup as
a spokes dog a few years ago.  He was pleasantly surprised at the true
flavors, but was having trouble with the heat.  I got him a Jamaica drink,
and the heat went away, which made him smile.
	"It's the sugar.  You can eat it straight out of the sugar dispenser in you
hand, and it'll do the same thing.  It takes the heat away."  He was
grateful for the information, and finished every bite of food on his plate.
	At the house, we showed him around, and made him as comfortable as we
could, given the limited space we had available.  Dale and John took him
into their room, while I tried to get caught up with e-mail and snail mail
that had arrived while I was gone.  I could hear the boys laughing and
joking in the back bedroom, and the almost musical sounds of their laughter
was pleasant to my ears, and listening to the rise and fall of their
youthful voices, i must have drifted off to sleep in my comfortable desk
chair.
	I had a series of jumbled dreams, with faces and sexual equipment I could
no longer identify, but as the dreams continued, i suddenly found myself
reexperiencing my first sexual encounter as a boy of sixteen.  Surprisingly,
the images were now less fearful in my dream even though in previous
occurrences, the dream had felt like a nightmare.  This time, something was
different.
	A friend and I were playing a war game in the thick undergrowth of mesquite
trees that grew along the big irrigation canal that ran behind the high
school grounds.  It was late in the afternoon, when we discovered the path
that lead down the bank of the canal into the thorny trees.  Never having
noticed it before, we were intrigued enough to follow it down under the
trees.
	The path meandered parallel to the canal for some distance before it opened
up into a kind of bower under the trees.  We could see that someone was
living there.  Clothing was arranged on top of a wooden box and a small
campfire was smoldering in the rock surrounded fire pit.  the box contained
a cast iron skillet, and several cans of beans and chili con carné.  Gary,
my friend was all for tearing up the camp, and throwing the skillet, clothes
and food into the canal.
	I argued with him about it, but he grabbed the skillet and ran back along
the winding path.  I chased after him, yelling for him not to do it, because
who ever it belonged to, would me mad at us for doing it.  He ignored me and
when he reached the bank again, sailed the iron skillet through the air as
far as he could throw it.  The chunk of iron splashed down and disappeared
beneath the muddy roiling water.  For some reason, this made me cry.
	"Sissy."  Gary's taunt, just made my tears worse, and I ran home crying.
He followed a few yards behind me taunting me for being a wimp.  At home, I
had the house to myself since my parents were both at work, and I cried for
several minutes over Gary's taunts.  I finally got control of my emotions,
and thought about what I could do to make things right with the stranger
whose skillet Gary had chucked into the canal.  I looked over my mother's
collection and saw she had four that were different sizes.  I selected the
one that looked about the same size as the lost one.
	It was beginning to get dark by then, and I determined to return the
skillet before my parents got home from work.  I took the skillet in hand,
and slipped out of the house.  I reached the canal ditch, in a few minutes,
but by that time, the sun had set below the horizon.  Doves were calling in
the mesquite jungle, and the crickets began to sing.  As I approached the
path down through the trees, I felt a wave of fear wash over me.  I almost
put the skillet down at the entrance to the path and fled home.  Something
made me stop and think about it.
	Suppose, I thought that the camper was not coming home, and somebody else
came along and found the skillet. I knew a lot of boys from the high school
ditched school and hid out along the canal, in the citrus groves, eating
fruit when it was ripe, or hunting birds with slingshots when it wasn't.  I
bucked up my nerves, and started down the dim path through the trees.  I
thought I smelled a whiff of smoke, and paused trying to see through the
jungle of tree trunks.  I could see a glow from the fire, and I thought a
shadow stooped over it.  I walked on cautiously, my heart beating a mile a
minute.
	As I approached the bend in the path that would take me into the bower, I
smelled something cooking.  I peeked around the trunk of a big mesquite, and
saw a man hunched over the small fire with the carcass of a dove impaled on
a stick roasting over the fire.  I stepped forward, and stepped on a dry
branch which snapped like a gunshot.
	The man leaped up, and turned toward me frozen like a deer in headlights.
He growled something at me with his deep voice, but I didn't understand what
he'd said.  Trembling, I held out the skillet toward him, and stood shaking
in my boots.  He peered into the darkness behind me, and I heard something
that sounded like he'd asked if I was alone.  I nodded at him, and he
relaxed a bit, and sat back down next to his fire.
	I stood there, shaking with the skillet gripped so tightly in my hand my
knuckles were white.  My arm was getting tired holding the heavy thing.  I
finally found my voice, and holding out the skillet, told him I was giving
him one of my mother's skillet because a friend of mine had thrown his in
the canal.
	He beckoned me to come closer, and when I crept up close enough to him, he
reached out and took the skillet from my tired hand.  He offered me some of
his bird, which smelled good.  I shook my head, thinking I'd be home eating
my dinner soon, and this was his dinner, probably hard come by.
	I asked him if he loved there, and he said he did.  He had a job irrigating
the groves for Mister Dobson, but he didn't pay enough to pay for a place to
live.  He got along he said, bringing water in a jug from Mister Dobson's
place when he got finished for the day.  His biggest problem was keeping
clean, but he sometimes went swimming in the canal at night if there was
enough moon.  He had a fear of snakes and bats, and told me he was afraid
he'd get onto one or the other when there wasn't enough light to see.
	He asked me to sit and talk to him for a bit, because he never had anybody
to talk to.  He'd been a soldier in the first world war, and had been gassed
by the Germans.  He'd been sickly in his lungs after he got back home, and
found the dampness in the East where he was originally from, to be hard on
his breathing apparatus, which is what he called it.  His military doctor
told him he would do better in Arizona since the weather was a lot dryer.
He'd hoboed out West on boxcars, and landed in Phoenix a few years before,
and although he said he felt better in the dry climate, he hadn't been able
to get enough employment to keep himself from being homeless.
	He didn't mind the nights in the mesquite jungle, but he had a hard time
buying food in the store down at the intersection.  The manager thought he
was dirty, and wouldn't let him in the store if there were women shopping.
He also suspected he was being charged more than was the true prices for his
canned goods, because a can f beans had gone up to over a dollar.  He was
thinking of cutting them out of his diet.
	Without thinking, I offered to do his shopping for him if he wanted.  For
some reason I liked the old guy who looked to be about forty-five or fifty
years old, about the same as my Grandpa.  He dug in his pocket and handed me
two dirty dollar bills, and told me it was all he had at the moment, but he
was craving some canned peaches.  I told him I'd be back with his peaches,
and took off up the path, almost relieved to be away.
	I ran to the store as fast as I could, forgetting all about the need to be
home when my parents arrived.  At the store, I bought him two cans of
Elberta peaches, and two cans of pork and beans.  The total was less than a
dollar, and I took the paper bag, and put his change into it and took off
like the wind back to the jungle.
	He was grateful for the peaches, and a little angry when he found the beans
had been so cheap.  He grumbled about getting even with the SOB at the
store, but finally asked me to take the change for my trouble.  I told him
he needed it more than me, and he shrugged, turning the glass vinegar jug up
and drinking some of the clear water.  When he finished, he set the jug
down, and asked me if there was anything he could do to repay me for my
kindness.  I shook my head, but he then told me he could make me feel real
good for a while if I wanted.
	This interested me, and I asked him how.  He asked me if I jerked off any.
I told him I did once in a while, but not very often, since the last few
times some white stuff had been coming out that scared me.  I didn't know
what it was, and I thought I might be getting sick.  It looked like puss.
He laughed, and told me it was called cum, and was normal.  He wanted to
know if I felt good when it came out of me.  I had to admit that I did.
	"Come `ere,"  his voice was softer, and I stood up and moved closer to him.
  He reached for me, and put hid arm around me and pulled me close.  His
free hand felt the front of my cutoff jeans, and he squeezed my little cock
through the cloth.  I started to respond instantly.
	"You like that boy?"  His fingers tugged my zipper down, and probed inside.
  My hard little dick flexed under his touch, and I shivered.  I nodded at
him, struck dumb at what was happening.
	"Take that big boy dick out and let me see it." He tugged at my pants, and
they slipped over my narrow hips, dragging my briefs down with them.  My
cock bounced against my belly, and the old guy took it in his fingers and
examined it in the firelight.
	"Nice cock for a kid," he jacked it for me a few times, and then let it go.
  I felt let down for some reason, and grabbed my cock in my left hand and
started to stroke it fast.
	"Here, leave off that jerkin'.  I'm gonna take ker of you."  He was
standing beside the fire, and had unbuttoned his pants.  He pushed them down
his legs, and I saw he had a giant hard-on sticking out from under his dirty
shirt.  He hadn't been wearing any underwear, and I could smell a rank odor
rising from his cock.  When he turned to face me, I saw he had a huge pair
of balls hanging down under his cock shaft.  I'd never seen a nude man
before, not even my dad, and the idea that I was faced my a massive hard-on
on a full grown man, made my little dick hard as stone.  I wasn't sure what
was happening to me, but I wanted to reach out and touch his big bone.
	He was unbuttoning his filthy shirt, and when he opened it to pull it off,
I saw he had a chest full of gray grizzled hair.  I was smooth as a piece of
paper, and his hair fascinated me.  I reached out and ran my hand through
the stiff mat on his chest.
	"take yer shirt off too."  he threw his shirt on top of his pants and stood
there naked in front of me wearing only his worn old boots.  I pulled my
tshirt over my head, and we both just stood there and eyed each other in the
flickering light.
	"You ever done this `afore?"  I shook my head, and just looked at him with
wide eyes.  His body odor was strong, but I didn't care.  He had a strong
wiry body covered almost completely with grizzled hair.   I wanted to touch
him, and reached out to do so.  He turned quickly, and I found my hand
closing tightly around his long thick cock shaft.  He moaned and reached
down for my little five inch pecker.  I felt like something was about to be
revealed to me that had been hidden.
	"Get down on your knees kid and put my dick in yer mouth."
	"What?"  I didn't imagine I could do that because it was so big.
	"I said for you to suck my dick."  He pushed the head toward my mouth, and
using his hand on my forehead, and his other hand on my chin, he forced my
mouth open and pushed the reeking head of his cock into my drooling throat.
I gagged and a wave of nausea swept over me.  I tried to vomit, and almost
did, until he pulled the head out onto my tongue.
	"Now you jus' suck it kid, an' I'll give you a taste of a man's cum.  I
ain't had nobody on my dick in years, so make it feel good."  I had no idea
how to do what he wanted, but he took my head in his big dirty hands, and
began guiding my head over his stiff cock.  My tongue was picking up tastes
that I'd never experienced before.  Some I thought must have been dirt, as
he wasn't particularly clean, but other were definitely him.  My mouth
watered, and soon, saliva and what he later told me was precum was running
down my chin and dripping onto my chest.  He began rocking in his old boots,
and I felt his cock head driving deeper into my throat again, but this time,
I didn't gag, and he kept pushing himself deeper into me.
	I was in some kind of delirious sexual heat, and felt I was going crazy
with his cock in my throat.  My own dick was flexing uncontrollably, and
suddenly started spraying the white stuff he'd called cum all over his legs.
  He felt it hit his hairy shins, and grunted.  The next thing I knew, he'd
pulled back out of my throat leaving only his cock head in my mouth, and
grunted again.  His big shaft flexed, and then my mouth was flooded with
something that tasted like chlorine smelled.  I gagged again, but he told me
to swallow, because more was coming.  I swallowed, and he shot another big
load into my throat.  I swallowed again, and again as he deposited several
more spurts of his cum into me.
	When he finished and pulled out of me, he dropped to his knees, and lifted
me up with his dirty hands under my armpits.  He buried his face in one of
my hairless pits, and his tongue tickled as he licked and sucked my naked
skin.  He pushed me down onto his pile of clothes, and then pushed me back
onto my shoulders.  I caught a glimpse of my cock, still stiff and vertical
between my legs.  The campfire was dying down, and the light was almost too
dim to see anything.  But, I didn't need to see.
	He took my cock in his mouth, and turned on the suction.  I gasped as the
thrilling sensations flooded my senses.  He didn't bob on me, but just used
his tongue playing over my stiff cock, and sucking my shaft with a suction
that made me feel I was about to be turned inside out.  None of this lasted
long, because I was suddenly blowing another load of cum into his mouth.  He
moaned when the spunk hit his tongue, and he sucked harder if that was
possible.  I felt like I was emptying my balls into his mouth, and he was
sucking my essence deep into his body.  I hadn't had a single experience in
my life until then, that electrified my emotions like he was doing to me at
that moment.  What kind of magic was this old homeless man working on my
young body.  I was writhing and grunting as I shot load after load into him,
begging him to stop.
	When he did stop, I collapsed on the pile of clothes, and he let my
softening cock plop out of his mouth.  He sat back on his heels, and grinned
down at me.  I noticed for the first time, that he didn't have any teeth in
his mouth.  HE fished in his shirt pocket, and pulled a pair of false teeth
out and pushed them back into his face.  He clacked them together a time or
two, and then smiled down at me.
	"How uzz `at kid?"  I was speechless, and lay there gasping for breath.  He
finally stood up and pulled on his pants. rolling me off the pile of
clothes.  The dirt in the bower was filled with broken twigs and thorns.  I
felt several sting my flesh, and jumped up and started to pull them out of
my skin.
	He pulled his pants on over his hairy legs, and told me I'd better get
dressed.  I realized I must be late, my mom and dad would have been home a
while ago, and I was not there.  I'd have some explaining to do when I got
home.  I pulled on my shorts, and grabbed my tshirt and started down the
path to the canal.
	"Hey kid," he shouted at me.  I stopped and turned to face the dim shape in
the dark bower, slightly illuminated by the glow of the coals of his cook
fire.  "Come again tomorrow, and I'll teach you to fuck like a man."  He
laughed out loud, and I silently ran for home.
	That night, I dreamed all night of his giant cock poking into my butt.  In
the morning, I knew I wouldn't go back into the jungle ever again, but as
dusk came, I found my feet on the bank of the canal.
	I woke up from my dream, when I felt my dad's belt landing on my ass for
staying out so late, and refusing to tell him where I'd been.  I was
disoriented for a moment, but heard Phillip and John laughing at something
Dale had said.  I yawned, and looked at my e-mail lists, and decided I
needed to do something about dinner before Jack got home.  I put my Mac to
sleep, and pushed out of my comfortable chair and headed for the kitchen.

End