Cory, Bo, and Doc
by Ashley Hardric ©2005
ahardric@gmail.com

Disclaimers: 
    This is a work of fiction.  That means it is not true.  Didn’t happen.  It’s a figment. No boys were involved or harmed in the writing of this story and no trees were sacrificed.  The author does not condone sex with boys; he just writes fantasies about it.  Further, sex in reality requires caution and protection, but my characters won’t catch any bad bugs unless I write them in.  Be safe and legal in the real world, and enjoy the story only if you are of age and location to do so legally.

    **This story is the property of the author and may not be reproduced elsewhere (i.e. other than Nifty Archive)  without his permission.**

     If you enjoy this story, a great way to demonstrate that would be to send a donation to the Nifty Archive to help keep the free service available.  Plus, feedback on the story is always appreciated.

    The references to Native American tribes, customs, history, and so on are totally invented, and are not intended to represent any specific tribe, or actual customs.
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Chapter 3

    With a DQ cone apiece, we sat at an outdoor table, making plans for our next adventure.  We decided not to push Bo’s luck immediately with attempts at staying out late or overnight, so we were going to take him home soon.  Cory and I had no school Friday, so we agreed to meet again then.  Cory wanted to go back to the canyon trail to look for artifacts; Bo wanted to try out the photo stuff.  I suggested a compromise.  “Let’s do both,” I said.  “We can try some shots in the canyon or by the lake, and we can check out the archaeological stuff at the same time.”

    “Cool,” agreed both boys. 

    Then Bo got his serious look again.  He pulled out the arrowhead and the bead.  “This is for you,” he said, presenting the arrowhead to Cory.  “And this is for you,” he said, presenting the bead to me.  “These are signs that were sent to us.  No one else could find them because they were there only for us.”  His totally serious face and voice told us to make no jokes about this.  Closing our hands around the two gifts, he held our hands in his, and somehow managed to hang on to his own cone.  “Keep these presents always, and remember,” he instructed.  He uttered a short phrase in his Indian tongue, and released our hands.  “Your ice cream’s dripping,” he informed me, slurping up his own.

                    * * * * * * * *

    Friday was sunny and bright, typical for Summer in the West.  Cory had previously promised to help out a friend at his job in the morning, so we’d agreed to meet at noon.  I picked him up then, and we collected Bo about ten minutes later.  The seating arrangement was identical to our previous excursion.  Cory’s arms held Bo in his lap, and he idly stroked the younger boy’s crotch.  Bo’s hands likewise explored Cory’s thighs.  He was soon obviously hard, and I knew Cory was as well.    He shifted Bo off his lap momentarily so that he could adjust himself.  Before the two horny teenagers could get into anything serious, however, we had arrived at the Canyons.  I drove to the same shade tree where I had parked the last time.  Today, however, another vehicle was there.

    “Shit,” Cory said.  “How come we have to have company today?”

    “I think they’re going to be leaving soon,” Bo replied.  “I have an idea.”

    “What do you mean?” I asked.  “You’re not planning to ambush them or anything, are you?”

    “Of course not!  Just make it clear to them that they want to leave.  Come with me.”

    He hopped out of the truck and entered the canyon.  We had no choice but to follow.  “They were here,” he said, looking at the ground, “and here, and here, and here.  They’ve gone down the trail.”  We followed him, unable to read any of the clues that he identified from the ground.  The secret bush door appeared before us, and Bo led us in.  There, he pulled us together in a strong hug, and then explained his plan.  “I’m going to ask the spirits to show themselves,” he said.  “Sometimes they will do that, and if you don’t know about it, it’s pretty scary.”  He arranged us as we had been before, and again raised his hands and his face to the sky.  This time he did not chant, but rather spoke a strange language in a matter of fact tone, pausing from time to time to listen, and then obviously replying.  Finally, he spoke a short phrase, and turned back to us.  “They will do it,” he said.  “I told them that I had found my true brothers to love, and that I needed their help, and they understood.  It was not any easier for gay Indians back then than it is now.”  No sooner had he finished speaking than a noticeable wind began to blow.  

    It did not remain a mere wind for long, however, and shortly became a virtual tornado.  Sheltered in the hidden room, we listened to the storm build.  Weird wind sounds whistled outside, and hail began to rain down.  Through the storm, we heard “Holy shit, man, let’s get out of here!” and then two men ran full speed past our hiding place.  Not long after they passed, the wind and hail stopped instantly. 

    “They’re gone,” Bo said matter-of-factly, and  muttered something in the strange language.  He led us out into the canyon again.  The sky was blue, the air was calm, and no one would have believed the incredible storm that had blown through moments before.

    We retrieved the photo bag from the truck, and headed into the canyon.  We reached the place where Bo had found the arrowhead and stopped. 
   
    “OK,” I said.  “Time for a camera lesson.”  I showed them the basic camera operations, and explained the concept of adding up time and light to equal a total exposure.  They both caught on quickly. 

    “So,” Cory said, “if I reduce the light but increase the time,  it ends up the same?” 

    And Bo added, “and if I increase the light, then I decrease the time?”  They were indeed quick learners.

    I added icing to the cake.  “And the neatest thing is that we can process our own pictures in the darkroom.  We don’t have to send them to a lab.  Now,” I said,  “Let’s practice.   If you’re going to take pictures, you have to be willing to have your picture taken.”  Cory and Bo immediately struck suggestive poses, mugging for the camera.   “I guess neither of you will have a problem with that,”  I added.  “So Bo, you put on your Band-Aid, and Cory, you wear your shorts and tee shirt.  OK.  Now, just pretend that you’ve encountered each other accidentally in the canyon while Bo is jerking off by himself.  And then just take it from there.”

    So the boys acted out the scene.  Bo sat on a rock, stroking his dick, clad only in his loin-strip.  His smooth body caught the sun perfectly, and glowed in the light.  Then Cory appeared behind him, sweating some, his shirt damp, and watched Bo before he was noticed.  Bo started up, startled, but Cory put his hand on Bo’s chest and then ran it down to his crotch.  His other hand encircled the younger boy’s body, and he held him close as he continued to stroke his cock.  His own erection was obvious now, and Bo dropped a hand to his side, reaching down to find Cory’s cock.  He manipulated the waist-band snap, and Cory’s shorts opened, revealing his perfect penis.  Bo fingered the solid rod and began stroking it up and down, as Cory did likewise to his.  The two chests began heaving, and the two unoccupied hands began roaming over each others’ bodies.  And I was snapping shot after shot, the motor drive on the camera whizzing constantly as I caught their passion on my film.  After not too much time, they both shot off, and I caught the images of their cum squirting out of their cocks, arcing through the air before splatting on the rocky ground below.  Both boys sagged back in post-orgasmic bliss, and I caught that too.  Cory brought a hand up to Bo’s face, and turned it up to his.  They kissed, tenderly and lovingly, and I captured that moment as well.  Then it was time for one of them to try their hand at the camera.  I chose Bo, since I wanted to see me and Cory on film together.

    “Don’t worry about using film,” I told him.  “With the bulk film and the power winder, you can shoot as much as you want.  Keep your eye on the meter, remember to focus, and don’t be afraid to experiment with different angles and views.”

    “Let’s start with Cory sunbathing nude, asleep maybe.  I’ll find him accidentally.”

    “Hey, you could be photographing nature and stuff.  Rocks and flowers,” Cory suggested.  “And then me.”

    “Yeah, and you can stay asleep until the shutter click wakes you up.  Bo can photograph the photographer.”

    Cory peeled off his tee shirt, and stretched his glorious naked body out on a grassy spot in full sun.  He rested one arm over his eyes, and seemed to sleep.  The camera clicked and whirred, as Bo captured him on film.  I picked up another camera and slung it around my neck.  I approached Cory obliquely, turned away from him.  Then I turned around, and despite knowing he was there, took an involuntary gasp at seeing his perfect beauty again.  Bo was close but not intruding, and the photographer’s piece of my brain noted that he was being careful to keep his own shadow out of the shots.  I sank to my knees beside Cory, and worshipped his perfection for a few moments.  Then with the lightest of touches, I ran my fingertip along his modest penis that flopped sideways against the top of his thigh.  Just as lightly, I continued downward, and caressed that thigh as well, returning to visit the balls that nestled loosely in their sac.  The penis was growing and moving, and Bo zoomed in on it, capturing its growth second by second. 

    “Am I awake yet?” Cory asked, his arm still over his eyes, his breathing rate increasing, his cock standing at stiff attention. 

    “Not yet,” I said.  “When you hear the shutter of my camera.”
   
    I tried some angles out in the viewfinder, and when I had a good one, I tripped the shutter.  The sound was Cory’s cue to wake up, and he moved his arm from his eyes.  I was now kneeling next to him, and he turned his face toward me.  The first thing in front of him was my crotch, and it showed a major bulge under my shorts.  He reached out a lazy hand and touched me, stroking my trapped member through the fabric.

   “Is that another lens in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” he asked.

     “It’s my special tool to use where the sun don’t shine,” I answered.  “Wouldn’t you like to see it?”

    He responded by opening the shorts and pulling my special tool out.  Then he sat up and removed the camera from my neck, and my shirt as well.   He pushed me down onto my back, and relieved me of my shorts as well as my shoes.  Then he picked up a tube of lubricating jelly, and liberally greased me up, covering my dick, my balls, and all of my groin with the slippery goo.  I thought maybe he was going to continue jerking me off, but he had other plans.  Putting the tube down, he straddled me and took my cock in one hand, holding and squeezing it as he guided me into his ass.  He settled fully down on me, and we stayed thus for a few moments, me engulfed in his tight ass, him filled by my manhood.  Then he raised himself up with his powerful legs, nearly taking my head out of his hole, and then dropping back down, and then repeating the process with long slow strokes.  I responded with pushes and pulls of my own, and grabbed his throbbing cock with my hands.

      “Bo, come here,” I gasped.  “Forget the camera now.”  Bo responded instantly, dropping down to take Cory’s cock from me and into his mouth.  His bony hips were next to my face, but I could not reach his prick with my mouth.  So I slipped my arms under him, and lifted him up and towards me.  He raised his leg and swung it over my head, straddling me opposite Cory.  I pulled his erect penis toward my mouth.  It was so hard I could not bend it down enough to get it inside without causing him major discomfort.  So I licked rather than sucked, washing the young balls with my tongue, and tickling the swollen tube from the base to the tip.  Three bodies were heaving and thrusting now, sweat dripping from upper bodies onto lower ones.  Bo was almost out of control, and I grabbed his hips to steady him.  He blasted his load first, his hot cum flying all over my chest and stomach.  Cory was next, filling Bo’s mouth beyond capacity and dribbling down his chin.  And then, with a final convulsive upward spasm, I filled Cory with my own seed, shooting burst after burst deep into him, and then returning to earth, both literally and figuratively.

    Three bodies, slick with sweat and semen, lay there panting.  Bo was kind of squished between Cory on top and me on the bottom, his head still trapped between our abdomens.  Cory shifted his weight to release Bo, and we got him turned around so that we were again face to face and in each other’s arms.

    The “click/whirr” of the camera brought us all out of our post orgasmic stupor.  We all jumped at the sound and scrambled to our feet.  “Omigod, someone’s here!”

    But our frantic look around showed us to be as secluded as ever.  I picked up the camera. 
A red LED was blinking, and then I realized what had happened.  “You did it, Bo.  When you put the camera down, you must have started the auto-timer, and the last time I used it, I was doing time-lapse shots.  So it waited fifteen minutes and then took the shot.  I wonder what we’ll get.”

    Still seriously smelly, covered with sweat and cum and dirt, we headed for the lake again to wash off.  As we had the time before, we lazed in the warm water, too tired and contented for more play.  Floating on our backs, warm water below and warm sun above, suddenly it dawned on me that we could be getting serious sunburns.  I rolled over and started to swim.  “Guys,” I said, “we better get out.”   I swam to shore and stood to drip-dry.  Both boys followed.
    “What’s up,” Cory asked.  
   
    “Sunburn,” I replied.  “Check it out.”  Sure enough, pink was starting to color both white bodies, and the golden one was darkening toward bronze.  Except for the same spot on all three.  Where our pricks had lain, there was a “shadow” -- a lighter spot untouched by the sun.

    “Uh oh,” Cory said.  “I think we made a boo-boo.  This may significantly affect our activities for a few days.”

    “Put some aloe on it right away,” Bo said.  “It will take the burn out and soothe any pain.  I know where to get some.  C’mon, this way.”

    He set off on another path we had not tried yet.  Out of respect to the power of the sun, Cory and I slipped on shorts and shirts before following him.  The path he followed was very narrow, almost nonexistent in spots.  But he followed it unerringly, finding his way over rocks and across stream beds as easily as if he were on the sidewalk in town.  Presently he stopped, where a bit of water seeped through the stones.  Several plump aloe plants grew there, and he snapped a couple of leaves off.  Running a thumb nail along each, he split them open, revealing the thick gelatinous interior.  “Take your clothes off again,” he ordered, and after we complied,  began rubbing the cool, slick jelly onto our burned bodies. 

    Actually, he started on me, and told me to do Cory.  I was happy enough to comply, and massaged the gooey aloe all over the firm muscles and soft skin.  Not surprisingly, when I got to his belly he was hard again, as was I, and  extra care was taken to thoroughly coat the cocks before moving on down thighs and calves and feet.  “OK, now do me,” Bo said, handing us each a new leaf.  “I don’t burn much, but the aloe is good for your skin.”  So we attended to Bo, and covered all of his skinny body with the therapeutic gel, and with our hands.  He, of course, was as hard as we were.  But it had not been long since our morning sex fest, and we decided to wait awhile longer.  Besides it was nearing lunch time, and the truck was quite a walk distant.  We donned clothes again and turned to start back.  Bo stopped us.
   
    “Not that way,” he said.  “This way.  We’re closer than you think.”  He led us onward along the nearly invisible trail.  After five minutes he stopped and pointed.  “The Rez is just over that hill, and that’s my uncle’s hogan,” he said.  A small, eight-sided log cabin stood there, built partly into the hill, a battered pickup truck next to it.  “He’s actually my Great-uncle.  He’s real old, and he taught me all my Indian stuff,” he explained, “and my mom taught me all the Anglo stuff.  So I do pretty OK in both worlds.”  He turned away from the cabin and suddenly we were on the entry road, only a few yards from my truck.

    “Gentlemen,” I announced, opening the back door and hauling out the cooler, “dinner is served.”