The Foxwood Chronicles

By FreeThinker


       The following may contain scenes of sexual activity between males. If you feel you may be offended by reading this or that it may be illegal for you to read this in your jurisdiction, please proceed no further. The author neither condones nor advocates the violation of any laws. Because the story begins in 1982, the characters portrayed herein may engage in behavior which could be considered unsafe or unwise, if not illegal. The author neither condones nor advocates unsafe or unwise behavior. The author, however, cheerfully condones and advocates exercising your imagination and your ability to think critically and rationally. Please do not copy or post this without the author’s permission.

          If you would like to read other stories I have written, you may go to the Prolific Authors link on the Nifty home page and choose “FreeThinker.”


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Be good. If you can’t be good, at least be interesting.





The Foxwood Chronicles
Chapter Three
Slow Hand

As the midnight moon, was drifting through
The lazy sway of the trees
I saw the look in your eyes, lookin' into mine
Seeing what you wanted to see
Darlin' don't say a word, cause I already heard
What your body's sayin' to mine
I'm tired of fast moves
I've got a slow groove...
On my mind

I want a man with a slow hand
I want a lover with an easy touch
I want somebody who will spend some time
Not come and go in a heated rush
I want somebody who will understand
When it comes to love, I want a slow hand

                The Pointer Sisters
                 “Slow Hand”
                 Planet Records, 1981



          All was quiet around the large old house. Only the chirping of crickets and the singing of tree frogs interrupted the peace and silence of the night. A gentle breeze blew through the spruce trees around the house as the drooping branches and leaves of the giant willow in the back swayed and drifted in the warm, still air. In the distance, the sudden groan of a downshifting tractor trailer out on the highway wafted through the night. The lonely glow of the street light on the corner shed a silver blue cast to the tall white house.

          A figure moved in the alley behind the house. It slunk around the aging chain link fence. Because the house was on a corner, the garage, actually a converted carriage house, faced the side street. The figure snuck around the almost century-old structure and crept toward the safety of the weeping willow. He carried a sack under his arm, cradling it as if it were worth its weight in gold.

          From within the dark safety of the willow, the figure paused, gazing though the branches toward the house and paying careful attention to an open window on the second floor. He checked the Timex on his left hand and looked back up.

          After a moment, he jumped with the hooting of an owl. He set the package down and raised his hands to his mouth, forming a megaphone with them, and emitted his own owl hoot. Moments later, the door at the back of the house opened and another figure quickly, quietly snuck out. The first figure slowly moved out from within the protection of the willow and sprinted across the newly cut grass to a huge oak tree. A wooden ladder rose along the wide trunk and, holding the package tightly to his body, the figure climbed up into a tree house. Once inside, he set the package down on the floor, and peaked over the lower edge of the wide window facing the house and watched as the other figure darted across the back lawn to the tree. Hesitating at the base of the tree, the second figure looked around and then climbed up the ladder. The first figure helped him inside.

          “Damn, Jesse. Where the heck were ya?” the second figure asked as he wiped his dark hair from his eyes. “I didn’t think you’d ever show up.”

          “Sorry, Ryan. The rents were playing cards with the neighbors till almost eleven-thirty. I didn’t think they’d ever get to bed.”

          “Well, man, it was rough. Mine decided to do it tonight.”

          “Oh, dude. You can’t be serious.”

          Ryan nodded with a look of horror on his face.

          “Oh, yeah. They were drinking wine earlier. I should have known what was gonna happen. Dude, it was so gross. Dad was like groaning and shit and Mom was like, ‘Oh, oh, oh.’ Fuck! I thought I was gonna hurl!”

          Jesse tossed his shaggy, dirty blond locks out of his eyes with a jerk of his head.

          “God, what are they? Forty?”

          “Dad’s forty-two. Man, I can’t believe he can still do it.”

          Jesse shook his head in wonder.

          “I hope I can still do it when I’m that old. As long as I don’t have any kids to gross out.”

          Ryan chuckled and pointed to the sack.

          “Come on, dude. Give me some of what’s in there.”

          Jesse grinned and reached into the paper bag, withdrawing a bottle of Heineken. Ryan’s eyes grew wide.

          “Cool! The good stuff. All right.”

          Jesse shrugged.

          “I don’t know how good it is. I’ve never tried it. But, Danny says it’s pretty good. Foster’s is better, but he said they didn’t have any.”

          He pulled a second bottle from the bag along with a church key and opened Ryan’s bottle. His friend took a long swig and then sighed after swallowing.


          Jesse grinned and took an equally large drink from his bottle.

          “Taste’s a little, I dunno, sharper than regular beer.”

          Ryan shrugged.

          “I dunno. I like it. How much do I owe you?”

          “Nada. I got it covered.”

          Ryan shook his head.

          “No way, dude. Come on. How much?”

          “I got it covered, man. Chill. I’m helping Danny with the lawn Monday.”

          Ryan nodded.

          “Cool. I’ll come over and edge or something.”

          “OK,” said Jesse with a nod.

          The two boys sat back against the walls of the tree house and listened to the sounds of the night. Suddenly, Ryan looked over and said, “Hey. I thought we were playing tennis at the club Monday.”

          Jesse shrugged.

          “Well, I guess we’ll have to wait ‘til Tuesday. Besides, Sanchez’ll be free Tuesday afternoon. He can give us some pointers.”

          “He’s back for the summer now?”

          Jesse nodded.

          “Got back from Stanford Friday. The club’s hired him as the pro for the summer to teach the rug-rats and keep the old ladies occupied.”

          Ryan chuckled.

          “Dude, as horny as he is all the time, those ladies are in for a workout.”

          Jesse raised an eyebrow and leaned forward.

          “Man, I hear he’s been getting more than just the ladies. Danny says he heard Sanchez was going up to Frisco on the weekends.”

          “You mean he’s gay?”

          Jesse nodded.

          “That’s what Danny says. I don’t know if it’s true or not, but the guy was a walking boner his senior year. You know how Mexicans are, dude. They’re always horny and they don’t care if it’s a guy or a girl as long as they’re on top.”

          “Jesse, don’t say shit like that. You know I hate to hear people taking about different people like that.”

          Jesse frowned in contrition and took another drink of his beer.

          “Yeah, you’re right. But, you got to admit, though, that Michael Sanchez is the horniest guy you ever saw.”        

          Ryan nodded.

          “You got me there, dude.”

          As Ryan took another long drink of his beer, Jesse added, “Danny says when Sanchez took his sister to the prom year before last, he came three times and was still going strong when she passed out.”

          “Now, how the hell would he know that?”

          Jesse shrugged.

          “Besides,” Ryan added. “He’s not Mexican. He’s Cuban. They moved here from Miami when his dad took over the nuclear plant.”

          Cuban, Mexican. Same difference.”

          “It is not. Man, you’re starting to sound more like you’re old man every day.”

          Jesse frowned.

          “Don’t say that.”

          Ryan watched him for a moment as he felt remorse over what he had said. He finished off the Heineken and then said softly, “Look, Jesse. I didn’t mean anything by that. I know you don’t want to be like your dad.”

          “Quit talking about my dad. He’s my dad.”

          “Well, I know, but you’re always telling me how he’s always putting you down and shit and…”

          “Yeah, well. I can say shit about him. You can’t.”

          Ryan was surprised by the vehemence of Jesse’s statement. He paused a moment and then, quietly, said, “Dude, I can say shit. I’ve been your best friend since forever. I’m the one who lets you sneak into our house at night when your Dad’s drunk. And, if he ever beat’s you up again, I’m gonna kick his fucking ass.”

          Jesse stared down at his crossed legs before him and remained silent for a moment. Ryan reached over and squeezed the knee beneath his red running shorts. Jesse looked up and their eyes met for a long moment. Eventually, he smiled and raised a fist. Ryan did the same and they knocked their fists together in a gesture of friendship and solidarity.

          “Hey, speaking of fags…” said Ryan.

          “My dad’s not a fag,” Jesse objected.

          “No, Doofus. Not you’re dad. Sanchez.”

          “Well, I don’t think Sanchez is a fag. I just think he’s hornier than shit.”

          “Whatever. Anyway, did you see that fag walking down the street tonight?”

          Jesse grinned as he pulled two new bottles from the bag.

          “You mean that blond guy you were boning over?”

          Ryan flipped him the finger.

          “I wasn’t boning.”

          “The hell you weren’t,” Jesse challenged him, pulling the bottle cap off and handing Ryan his second beer. “You could have hung a line off that pole and gone fishing.”

          “Fuck you,’ Ryan replied before taking a swig. “But, he sure was swinging those hips. Hell, he walks just like a damn girl.”

          Jesse nodded.

          “If his hair was longer, he’d look like one. Man, did you see those legs?”

          Ryan nodded.

          “I wonder if he’s Crazy Old Mrs. Vanderlyn’s grandson, the one from California.”

          Jesse chuckled.

          “Ah, that’s it. He’s not a fag. He’s just from California.”

          Ryan laughed.

“OK. “I’ll give you that one.”

The two boys sat silently drinking their beer and listening to the sounds of the night. A mockingbird began to sing, the only bird singing in the middle of the night, going through it’s repertoire of songs. Ryan leaned toward the door to the tree house and looked outside, spying the bird on the power line along the street. Eventually, he sat back and took several more long swigs of beer.

His eyes slowly roamed over the inside of the tree house that he and Jesse had shared since second grade as their retreat from the outside world of demanding parents and pestering siblings. As the beer dulled his senses, his eyes landed on the bare legs of his closest friend. They roamed upward toward his thighs and Ryan felt an unwelcome surge within him. Well, to be honest, it wasn’t completely unwelcome, but he immediately looked away. Jesse noticed and smiled, though he said nothing.

As he finished his second bottle, Jesse reached over to the bag and withdrew the last two bottles. As Ryan finished off the last of his beer, Jesse handed him the final bottle. Jesse looked him in the eye for a second and then leaned back.

“You’re not gonna believe what happened this afternoon,” he said.

“What?” Ryan asked as he leaned back. He opened his legs and Jesse saw the tip of Ryan’s cock through the fly of his boxers. He decided that either Ryan had grown a lot in the last three years or he was on the edge of popping.

“I came by this afternoon to see if you wanted to go to the mall with Danny and me, but you and your Dad were over at the car parts store and as I was coming around the garage, I heard Brandon and Jeremy up here.”

“Yeah? So?”

Jesse took a long drink of beer to build up his courage.

“They were messing around. You know, like we used to when we were their age.”

Ryan raised an interested eyebrow.

“Yeah? How do you know?”

Jesse took a deep breath.

“Because your brother was telling Jeremy to jack him harder.”

Ryan chuckled.

“Your brother can’t jack any better than you can.”

‘I don’t remember too many complaints.”

Ryan thought for a moment and then asked, “You know if they were looking at a Penthouse?”

“I think so. They were looking at something. Brandon kept talking about how he wanted to suck someone’s tits. So I figured he and Jeremy were scoping on a mag.”

Ryan nodded.

“My latest Penthouse is missing. I was afraid Mom found it, but I guess I know where it is. I’m gonna have to kick his ass now.”

“Aw, come on. Give the little dude a break. He’s horny. Where’s he gonna get a Penthouse? Besides, it’s better to steal ‘em from your big brother than from the newsstand downtown like you used to.”

“I only did it ‘cause you were to woosy to do it.”

Jesse narrowed his eyes accusingly and Ryan grinned.

“OK. I won’t hurt him. I’ll tell him to ask next time. Shit, I don’t care.”

Jesse smiled and after a moment, said, “I think it was cool. It was almost like listening to us doing it. You know, I kind of miss the old days, you know?”

Ryan snorted.

“Well, it was sure a heck of a lot easier to get off with you than it is now with Debbie.”

“She still  won’t go down on you?”

“Fuck no. Hell, I’m lucky to feel her tits, fuckin’ prick tease. I don’t get it, man. She gets upset if I don’t mess with her. But, then, when I do, she’s all over my case for getting’ too intense or something.”

Ryan took a drink. He raised his right knee and rested his arm on it, holding his bottle outward and unknowingly giving Jesse a great view, even in the dim light of the tree house, of his balls.

“I can’t figure out girls,” Jesse replied. “I never know what Lindsey wants. They act like they want it, but when you give it to them, then they get all scared and shit. I think they just like to drive us crazy and string us along. I think they think that as long as we think we’re gonna get some, they think they can talk us into giving them other shit, like taking ‘em out, or getting presents and shit.”

Ryan shook his head bitterly as he gazed out the window at the dark sky.

“They use sex to get what they want. Us? Sex IS what we want.”

Jesse chuckled.

“Yeah. Tell me.”

Ryan took a deep breath.

“It’s a lot easier jackin’ with your buddy.”

This was exactly what Jesse was waiting for. He grinned at Ryan and said, softly, “You want to?”

Ryan looked at Jesse as if he were crazy.

“Naw, Dude. We’re fifteen. We’re too old for that shit now.”

Jesse looked away and sighed.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I just thought, you know, when I heard Brandon and Jeremy getting it on this afternoon, I don’t know. I guess I kind of miss when you and I did it.”

Ryan looked at Jesse for several seconds.

“Yeah, I know what you mean. I kind of miss being eleven or twelve. We had some good times.”

Jesse said nothing. He was staring out the window above, as Ryan had, until his best friend whispered, “What the fuck.”

Jesse looked quickly at his buddy and saw a full fledged boner sticking up through the fly of his boxers. Ryan grinned as he slipped his shorts down his legs and whipped his t-shirt off over his head. Naked, he crawled across the worn wooden planks over to Jesse.

“You always were kind of slow,” he said as Jesse’s eyes bathed Ryan’s cock in an almost worshipful gaze. Quickly he slipped of his running shorts, kicked off his sneakers, and threw his OP t-shirt over in the corner.

The warm night air felt wonderful on both their naked bodies and added to the excitement of the moment. Ryan sat back and gave Jesse room to work. Jesse extended his left hand and cupped it under Ryan’s fat balls, gently caressing them as his friend closed his eyes and moaned.

“Ah, Dude, that feels so nice.”

Jesse smiled. This was working perfectly, progressing just as he had dreamt it would so many times. With his right hand, he reached across Ryan’s legs and ran his fingers through the silky black hair around his friend’s cock. Jesse’s own cock throbbed madly as Ryan moaned and thrust his hips outward.

“Aw, yeah,” he whispered as Ryan’s fingers played with the hair and traced along the thick, hard shaft of his best friend’s cock.

As he rubbed a couple of fingers across the sensitive underside beneath the head, Jesse whispered, “Come on, man. Do me.”

Ryan opened his eyes and grinned.

“Demanding little fucker, aren’t ya?” he said as he reached across with both hands and began to fondle Jesse’s cock and balls. Jesse scooted in front of Ryan and the two fondled and felt each other for a long moment during which the only sounds were the signing of the frogs and crickets and the heavy, strained breathing of two horny teenagers, best friends seeking to make each other feel good.

“Man,” Jesse breathed as he stroked Ryan’s boner, “you sure got bigger. Dude, you’re huge.”

“Aw, come on,” Ryan whispered, feeling pride in Jesse’s admiration, “I’m not that big. Besides, you haven’t seen it since we were twelve.”

“A week after you turned thirteen. What is it, eight inches?”

Ryan grinned. “Eight and a half, but who’s counting. Yours is almost that long, but yours is definitely fatter than mine.”

Ryan was now stroking Jesse’s cock, as well, while he cupped and fondled his balls. The two boys silently stroked and felt each other. Jesse was loving this. For more than two years, he had dreamt of the day when he and Ryan might resume messing around. Well, Ryan might have thought of it as messing around. For Jesse, who loved his best friend more than a brother and would have done anything in the world to make him happy, it was making love.

Jesse had learned during the two years when they had hidden in the tree house exactly how to satisfy Ryan. He had carefully watched his pal’s face and listened to his breathing, his groaning, for any hints and clues as to how he was reacting and what turned him on. Ryan was not taking the care with Jesse’s cock that Jesse was with his, but that didn’t matter to the blond. His goal had been to make love to Ryan’s cock and balls again. If Ryan did anything to him, well that was just icing on the cake.

“Aw, Jesse,” Ryan sighed. “You always knew how to get me going. You do that so fucking good.”

Jesse gave him a nasty smile.

“You gettin’ off on this?”

“Oh, yeah. Big time. Man, maybe dudes should do it with each other. Guys know what guys want. We know what turns us on better than girls.”

“Yeah,” Jesse whispered. “Yeah, get off on it, Dude. Get into it, Ryan. I’ll take care of you.”

“Yeah,” said Ryan as Jesse brought both hands to his cock and started jacking two handed. “Aw, fuck. Aw, yeah.”

Jesse could tell Ryan was getting into the mutual hand jobs by the way Ryan was squeezing Jesse’s cock and the way he was squirming his hips around. Jesse slowed down, to make it last. Ryan looked up and grinned.

“You want to make this last, don’t ya?”

“I’m having a blast, Dude,” Jesse replied.

“Well, don’t wait too long, man. I need to get off bad. Do it. Go ahead. Make me shoot, Jesse. I want to cum.”

Jesse hesitated for a second and, then, deciding he didn’t want to piss off his friend and spoil the moment, he went ahead and started pumping faster and squeezing tighter. Ryan did the same to Jesse’s dick and Jesse, groaned as he squirmed his own hips around on the wooden floor in front of Ryan.

The two boys were both breathing hard and moaning insistently as their fists jacked each other faster and harder until Ryan started groaning.

“Fuck, fuck, aw, aw, AWWWWW!”

Suddenly, his face took on a nasty scowl as he gritted his teeth and thrust his hips forward. His fist kept jacking Jesse, but thick wads of cum started shooting from his cock, landing on both of their faces and coating their chests and legs.

That was all Jesse needed. The sight of his best friend shooting and the feel of his squeezing jacking hand on his boner sent him over the edge.

“Aw, fuck, Ryan. Aw, Ryan, Ryan, Ryan.”

Jesse’s cum mixed with Ryan’s on the two boys and in seconds, both friends were leaning back and panting.

“Oh, man,” Ryan breathed, “I haven’t shot like that in forever. What’s your fucking secret, Dude?”

Jesse grinned, but said nothing, at first. He wasn’t going to tell Ryan it was because he loved him.

“I guess I’m a master bater.”

As Jesse grinned, Ryan rolled his eyes.

“Man, that’s bad.”

The two continued to sit unmoving, their breathing settling down, as the cum dried on them and the crickets and frogs sang. Jesse felt so peaceful and happy. He was sitting naked with the guy he loved after a great mutual jerk, sharing the moment. What more could he ask for?

He looked up at Ryan’s face, but suddenly felt something was wrong. The look of contentment in Ryan’s eyes slowly, but surely, was disappearing. Ryan was thinking. Jesse knew it; and, he knew what he was thinking. It was the same thing he had discussed the last time they had messed with each other on New Year’s Eve, when 1979 turned into 1980. Jesse was afraid to say anything.

Suddenly, Ryan sat up and picked up his t-shirt. He silently wiped himself off and then tossed it to Jesse, who did the same thing.

“I better get back in, just in case the rents get up and see I’m gone,” he said flatly. Jesse frowned nervously.

“You OK?” he asked softly. Ryan didn’t look at him as he slipped his boxers back on.

“Yeah. You taking the empties?”

Jesse nodded as he picked up the trash. Ryan said nothing further as he crawled to the door. Jesse was desperate not to leave it like this.

“You gonna be at the club for dinner after church tomorrow?”

Ryan simply nodded as he looked at the ladder while he climbed down. He said nothing further. Jesse sat in the door of the tree house and watched as the guy he loved ran barefoot across the grass to the back door of the house and disappeared inside.

Dejectedly, Jesse dressed himself and, holding the paper bag with the empty beer bottles, descended the ladder, snuck across the yard toward the street and, with a last furtive look up at the window on the second floor, disappeared around the corner of the garage.




Thank you for reading Chapter Three of The Foxwood Chronicles. I hope you enjoyed it and will write to me at Also, please visit my blog, ChrisThinker for discussions of politics, culture, life, and all the things your mother told you not to discuss in polite society.