Thanks for reading!

Any use of real places, events, corporations or products within this text are strictly for the purpose of adding realism and authenticity to the writing. Critiques are always welcome. Also, please let me know what you think of the format. If you want more information about any rodeo events, there are tons of resources online.

Written exclusively for Nifty Archives. This story involves sexual relationships between boys, aged 15 and older. If this is illegal in your area, please do not read on. This story is work of fiction. Any similarities between real places, people, and events is completely coincidental and unintentional. If you read the archives frequently, then you know the drill. Take the rest with a grain of salt. This story is (c) 2007-08, Milos. All rights reserved! Please do NOT repost this story without permission.

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A note on this chapter:

A lot of people were having issues reading the first version of this chapter due to the way it was formatted. I didn't realise that so many people were using newer technologies to read internet stories. (One person said that they were using Text-to-Speech software, and the columnar format was goofing things up.)

This is the second revision of the first chapter without the odd formatting. All subsequent chapters will be formatted the same as well. Music cues are gone.

I apologize for taking so long to get to this point. Life gets busy sometimes, and I feel like I am back at a point where I can pick this back up.

# # #

This basement smells like cedar. When I was little, Momma painted the walls green and hung wood panels around the bottom of the wall. It keeps pretty cool down here.

The third step creaks when I come down the steps. The basement is L-Shaped. When you walk around the corner, there's a wrap around couch where dad spends most of his time at home watching TV. He says he comes down to get away from his hay fever. He really watches the car races.

Dad and Momma are going through the videos again. Once in a while, if it tickles their fancy, they pull out the box of family videos; their wedding, Chase's first dance recital, my dad breaking his arm on the trampoline. Intermission for the local fair and rodeo.

'...Bobby Gilders with three seconds. Someone get that sheep outta there. Next up we have young Lem Taylor.' -- 'Just barely five years old as of yesterday.' -- 'Five seconds is the time to beat.' -- 'Looks like he's in the pen and ready to go. Gate's open and there he goes! Little Lem Taylor.'

The kid on the sheep is me.

'That is one ugly sheep!' -- 'Yes it is. Oops, looks like he's going over sideways a bit. He's holding on for life.' -- 'This kid just wont let go. There's five seconds.'

"Oh, Lem," Momma looks over the back of the couch, "you remember that?"

I watch without saying anything.

'Looks like he's going for more. Watch him, Red! Here he comes!' -- 'And there he goes, all the way to the south gates by the Perkins Chute there. Still holding on.' -- 'Oh! Rolled off right into the gate. Lem on his feet, give him a round of applause! Waiting on word from the judges.'

It's Momma's proudest moment. Little me, little wranglers, little boots -- my shirt tucked in. I remember my belt was too tight. Being loaded on the back of the sheep by my uncle. He was an official then.

'That's quite a ride from the young man.' -- 'What'd you say, Red?' -- 'I says I ride a sheep to work every day!' -- 'You Do!?' -- 'Yeah. My seats are covered with 'em!' -- 'Red Dawson, your friend in entertainment here at the Burlee Fair and Rodeo.'

Red, the local rodeo clown, he dances around on the screen. Dad lets out a loud snore and wakes himself up.

Momma looks at him. "Do you remember that, Gary?"

'Nine and a half seconds, Bob! A new fair record for Mutton Bustin'!'

Dad blinks at it and leans forward. "That the one where Lem rode it clear-ta Coal county? That musta' been eleven or so years ago." It was just across the arena.

'All of our contestants here today will receive a brand new belt buckle. And a special prize for young Lem: a brand new pair of Justin Boots from our friends down at Western Montana Ranch wear...'

I remember the smile on Dad's face when I won those boots. I take off my hat and scratch my head. "Can I go out?"

Dad looks at me. "Where you goin' on a school night?"

"Collin's got a new horse he wants to show me." I lied. Been getting better at it.

He looks at Momma, "I don't know -- what do you think?"

Mom looks at him, then me, "I don't care. Be back before nine. Your midterms are tomorrow."

I put my hat back on. "Thanks Momma."

Memories on the TV. A judge takes me back to the other kids, then Dad lifts me to his shoulder. We went for ice-cream after that. He ordered me chocolate. He says real men eat chocolate ice-cream. Strawberry is for girls, he always says. I remember I wanted strawberry, but he gave me chocolate.

I excuse myself. Ice-cream melts faster than memories.

The basement is dark. I stub my toe and trip up a few stairs, land on my wrist funny. It aches a bit, so I rub it.

"Have a nice trip?" Momma walks up behind me, helps me up. "Don't forget you have practice tomorrow."

# # #

This is a story about a rank named Backdraft, a red brangus with a large white spot on his brisket. Sixteen-seventy-four pounds of lean hamburger. One horn points up, the other down. Eighty-seven buck-off percent. ID number XNR432J. He's what they call a head hunter.

# # #

I look into his eyes. Green. There're brown flecks in them. His hair is short and brown; it always sits flat against his head. His ears are a bit large, there is a small cleft in this chin. His eyes are round, curious. They're not sharp and set like his father's. His lips are soft and broad, but not curved up in a natural smile like you see some people with. His eyelashes are long. His skin is soft and almost perfect, except a small pimple on this temple. His mother says he can stop people with his smile.

He looks out of place; something I just can't figure out. He blinks at me and a lop-sided grin spreads across his face as I open the medicine cabinet. He disappears. I grab a comb and shut the cabinet. The mirror swings toward to my face. It makes a breeze that smells like stale toothpaste and my brother's cheap perfume.

"I hafta use the bathroom!" Chase knocks on the door. "God! Are you playing with yourself again?"

I slam the comb down. "It's not Jason," I try in my deepest voice. I sound like a damn kid.

"Come on, Lem! I gotta pee!"

"Give me a minute!" I wet a washrag with hot water.

She slaps the door. "I can't hold it!"

"Christ! Use mom and dad's bathroom!"

I hear her run up the hall, "you suck!"

I splash water on my face and scrub it clean. The other one stands up with me, our cheeks rosy from scrubbing. I wonder if this is what I look like when I say something stupid. I open the cabinet again and put away the comb. I'm looking at Jason's perfume; a black glass bottle with a silver top. I say it softly; Stetson Black, coll-og-nee. I spray some on.

"I need the bathroom!" Jason hits the door hard.

I fumble with the cap and put the perfume back. "Give me a minute. I'm almost done."

"Now, you little shit!"

"Go jerk it in your own room!"

There's a trick to open the bathroom door when it's locked. If you pull the door and twist the knob just right, it knocks the locking pin in. Jason takes two steps in. He puts his hand on my chest and pushes me against the towel rack. He almost knocks me off my feet. He holds me there and looks around. "Were you in my shit?" He grabs a fist-full of shirt.

"Dude. Sorry! Sorry!"

He thumps me on the head and pushes me out the door with his foot on my ass. "Get out!"

"Jason, you're an asshole!" He slams the door behind me.

Mom yells from the basement. "Knock it off up there!"

# # #

Momma has Russian Olive Trees along the dirt road up to the house. They're coming into bloom. It's nice when the air doesn't smell like cow shit. I pass the barn and the antique horse drawn tiller that sits near the gate. It's just after seven and the sky's turning pink.

My boots scratch under my feet while I walk around in circles near the mailbox. A pair of headlights come over the hill; it's Ronnie's truck. I wave him down when he gets closer. Ronnie qualified for saddle bronc at state this year.

Matthew is with him. When Ronnie slows down, Matthew smiles like he's glad I'm coming.

Ronnie leans across Matthew and pulls the door open, "You goin' to Dawson's, too? Hop in." Ronnie's cool like that. He's always stuck up for me when we were younger, especially when my brother was being mean.

"Thanks," I crawl into the cab next to Matthew.

Mattie grins at me. We've been best friends since we were little. They moved in next door when I was four. He's a year younger than me, we started growing apart when I started seventh grade. He didn't like being stuck behind without me.

Matthew and his brothers are scarecrows. Thin as a rail. They all have messy blonde hair that looks like it's wet most of the time, but it's always clean; not greasy or anything. They all have these orange eyes, too. Most people would call it a brown, but it looks more like orange to me.

Matthew has big ears, and long, thin fingers. Last they measured, he was just under six foot. He's painfully shy, and if there's ever more than three of us in a group, he won't say anything. He's pretty good at chasing the cans or pole bending, but he's been too old for the last few years. When the crowd cheers for him, he turns bright red and hides under his hat.

He was a walking hormone when he discovered tugging the string.

Ronnie pulls a Chilli Peppers CD out of his visor and puts it in his radio. Ronnie doesn't really listen to country that much.

I scratch at a spot on my jeans. "Um, momma wants me home at nine."

Ronnie smiles and watches the road. "Serious? You know this thing goes until eleven?"

"I don't know. Think I can get a ride?"

"Mom wants Mattie home at ten. What if I take you to the fork at nine fifteen or so an' you two walk back?"

I nod. "Guess momma wouldn't be too pissed if I came in a little bit late."

We go over the bridge, down a wide dirt road, and past the Rolling W Ranch. Ronnie takes a sharp turn past a few mail-boxes and drives toward a large field. After a few minutes, we're near a small grove of trees on ol' Dawson's land.

Dawson's a Vietnam vet -- he drinks too much for his own good. He inherited his ranch when his dad died from lung cancer. At the rodeos, he's usually standing on the chute behind a flask of Jack and a Hot-Shot. I guess he's an okay guy.

Senior class has a bonfire going. There's a big circle of pick-up trucks around it. A few people holding bottles of beer. Mom and Dad know Jason's gonna be here, but they wouldn't want me hanging around. Guess if Jason tells them I was here, Jason's porn stash might find it's way to his laundry basket before mom sorts it.

We park and I see Collin across the way slobbering on a bottle of beer. I hop outta the truck and walk over; Mattie runs to catch up and stays in tow. Collin's a Junior this year.

"Hey man, if my mom asks, I came over to see your new horse."

He punches me in the arm. "My mom woulda seen you if you came over."

"Just tell 'er I stopped by really quick before you came here."

"She dun' know I'm here. 'Sides, she'd be pissed if I didn't bring you in to say hi." He reaches over the side of his truck and gets a bottle of beer. He holds one out to Matthew, who just shakes his head. He holds it out to me.

Momma has beer radar with Jason. "Better not."

He pops the cap and puts it in my hands. "Drink up."

I look at Matthew, his eyes are bothersome. I just hold onto it.

Jason's truck pulls in. The blond bimbo running over to him, that's his girlfriend. Jess. He gets out of his truck and lifts her up, spins in a few circles as she jams her tongue his ear.

"Now there's a girl with a bad reputation." Collin throws back the rest of his beer and walks off.

I tug on my brim and turn away. I hand the bottle to Matthew; he looks at it stupidly. "If you take a sip, I'll take one."

"I... I really don't know."

I steal the bottle and take a big swig. Dad used to give me sips of his beer here and there when I was younger. I give the bottle back to Matthew. He tries a small sip and chokes on it. "You're supposed to drink it."

"It tastes awful!"

"Just drink some!"

He throws it back and pretends to be drinking. I put a finger under the bottle and tip it back for him. He groans a bit and lunges back so it doesn't spill on him. "That's enough!"

Between the two of us, we finish the bottle.

Brooke Reynolds walks by and gives me a wink.

Matthew swallows hard. "She likes you."

I blush. "No she doesn't. Betcha she gets Junior Miss Rodeo this year. She's probably got someone. Girls like that are stupid, anyway."

"Why? What do ya mean?"

"Pretty girls are stupid."

We walk around the party for a while.

Clouds stretch in long lines, a red half-moon hangs behind them. Mattie and me walk around the ring of trucks while the flames in the bonfire get taller.

"Hey there. You're Jason's brother, aren't you?" Mattie and I turn around . Brooke is leaning against a rusted Camaro.

"Yeah, I guess."

She laughs smiles wide, "you guess? That's cute."


We walk on, Mattie stays ten feet behind us. "You goin' to state to watch your brother ride?"

I shake my head. "No. I'm riding in Cutbank."

"Oh? What event?"

I step over a log and head toward the field. "Saddle Bronc."

She flings her hair to the side. "No bull riding?"

"Naw, Jason broke his arm on a bull when he was thirteen; momma won't let me ride beef until I move outta the house."

She looks over her shoulder. "Matthew Hedquist, you come over here."

Matthew has his thumbs in his pocket. He kicks at the ground and looks out from under his hat.

"Come on, now. You don't hafta walk all the way back there." She smiles at me, "nervous little critter, isn't he?"

Matthew walks up beside me and looks at her uneasily. We start forward again.

She hooks one of Mattie's elbows. "Are you riding this weekend?"

"Uh, yes, ma'am."

She looks like she's been shot. "Ma'am?"


"What're you riding?"

"Team Ropin'."

She tilts her head. "Ah."

We walk around the trucks just out of the fire light and talk, the three of us. Somewhere along the way, I get another beer I split with Brooke and Mattie. I feel like I've been drinking cold medecine.

Brooke puts her arm around my back. I don't know what to do. This' never happened to me before.

There's something sad in Matthew's eye. I look over at him and he looks to the distance, like something more important caught his fancy. He grabs at my elbow, "it's getting on nine." He shows me his watch.

"I gotta be getting' on home."

She smiles. "I wish I could come watch you ride."


She kisses me on the cheek.

I look across the fire and see a guy I never seen before.

Brook catches on and looks over. "That's Jeff. They moved over from Idaho."

I can't take my eyes off him. I feel like I'm falling out of the sky. I think Brooke is saying something to me. My ears are numb.

Matthew yanks me off kilter. "We gotta go."

"Wait a damn minute here. You almost pulled me over."

Matthew bites his bottom lip and turns red. He looks away.

"Miss Brooke, I'm sorry, but we gotta jet."

She gives me a hug.

I look over the fire at Jeff. My head is floating. I walk backwards and wave at Brooke.

She smiles and waves.

"Come on!" Matt runs off to Ronnie's truck.

# # #

The truck stops at the fork in the road about half a mile from home. Mattie and I get out and take to walking. Ronnie flips a bitch and heads back to the party. I hit a nick in the road and trip over my feet.

Mattie laughs at me. We walk a little ways, quiet-like. "She really likes you."

I look at him almost sideways, "who likes me?"

"Brooke does."

"No, she doesn't."

"You can see when she smiles."

I think back and see Jeff. "Yeah, she's somethin'."

"You said she was stupid."

"I guess I was wrong." I stop and close my eyes.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't know. I feel funny."

"Betcha it's the beer."

"No, I mean something else." We walk on.

"Like what?"


He doesn't say anything as we walk shoulder to shoulder. He rubs his arms after a cold breeze churns in the valley.

"You should see if you can spend the night."

I look at him. "We have midterms tomorrow and Thursday. No way my mom or your mom'd go for it."

"How bout Thursday night then, seeing we don't have school or anything? We could get some movies. Be easy since we have practice Friday mornin'."

"I guess so."

He slows down a bit. "Ya think we could do that thing we always did last summer?"

I know what he's thinking. I play stupid. "What thing?"

"You know, when we..." he sighs, "that thing."

I turn my head and look at him cold. "You mean play with each other?"

He looks at the ground and kicks his boot, "I guess."

"Maybe. I don't know."

"Lem? You wouldn't tell anyone about it, would you?"

"Think I want to get my ass kicked? They'd think things, Mattie."

He's quiet for a bit. "Think you'd ever date a girl like Brooke?"

"I don't think she's interested."

"She'd be lucky to have a guy like you."

I cock my head sideways. "What's wrong with you?"

"That girl kissed you on the cheek when you took goat tying and you didn't shut up about it for near a week. Brooke has it for you, and you don't even know it. I'll never get someone like that..." He trails off. "Shit."

This is the first time I've heard him swear -- ever.

"Don't you worry yourself about it, I really don't think it'll happen."

He seems to lighten up. "Who needs 'em? Girls."

We look at each other with a smile. At the same time, like we did when we were kids, "ewwwwwww! Jai-Jai!"

He has a soft, tenor giggle.

We stop at my front gate and look up the road. "Call me tomorrow?"


He looks over at a building off the barn, "I, ah... you wanna?" He kicks his foot.

"I don't know, Mattie, I'm already late."

"Please? Come on, I really don't want to wait till I get home."

"I'm beginning ta' think you like her."

"I... um..." He looks down again, "just real quick? Please?"

I shrug.

We walk to the storage building. It's big enough for a small tractor and a riding mower. The place smells like gas. A ladder goes up to a small attic. After Jason and Ronnie met, they cleaned it up and got a couch up there somehow. It was their clubhouse. They used to look at Playboys up there before they stopped being best friends. It's too hot to hang out there during the day, and it's too cold in the winter.

The only light in the room is from a digital clock with blue numbers. Matthew sits on the couch and starts pulling off his Ropers. I sit on the floor, stare at the clock blankly. His pants and underwear hit the floor; he sits on the edge of the couch, leaning back with his feet on the floor. He spreads his knees apart.

I rub it flat-handed at first, I start at his balls and move up. I wrap my fingers around. He puts his feet on my shoulders, his knees are bent out like he's on his horse. I'm close enough I can smell his label; his musk and sweat -- the salt of his skin.

He groans and squeaks once in a while. I swell up a bit myself. My mind is somewhere else. I pull a bit faster.

Mattie starts pumping his hips. I imagine myself pulling off Jeff. The glint in his eyes and the way the light falls against his jaw reminds me that I am wrapped around Matthew.

"Unnnnhh!" He gasps. "Unnn uhhhh uhhhhhhh mmmmmmmmmm..." His hips fly forward like a horse out of a chute. He breathes like a wild animal. Stop and squeeze. The pressure builds and fires off. "Annnnnnnhhhhh!"

I feel the warmth land on the back of my hand. I stand up.

"Want me to do you?"

I look around and shake my head, "I have to get inside before I get in deep shit."

He just sits there breathing hard, his arms across the back of the couch. There's a sad look in his eyes. I hate it when he looks at me like that. It makes me feel bad.

"Mattie, no. I can't." I start down the ladder.

"See you at school tomorrow?"

"Yeah. I'll ask my mom about Thursday."

I know he's a bit happier when he says "cool."

I walk up the drive toward the house. The lights are still on in the basement, and the windows on dad's truck are still rolled down. He probably fell asleep in front of the TV again.

Something sticky on the back of my hand burns my insides like a wild fire. I smell it -- like thick bleach. I stop and close my eyes; I see Jeff. I don't know anything about him, so why do I feel like I would die for him? What's making me feel like this? Why?

I look at the stars and twirl in slow circles. I lick it off the back of my hand. All of it. For this minute, I feel Jeff on my tongue. Salty and spicy, has a burn to it. I try my all to swallow it down, and it lurches down my throat -- slowly. "Jeff." My squeak barely makes it to my ears. "Jeff."

I hear feet running off behind me. I look over my shoulder and see Matthew in the moonlight. My belly sinks to know that he might have heard me. I never swallowed Jeff's offerings. I've never even talked to Jeff. I've just swallowed Mattie's stuff. I just stand here, watching Mattie run home, and wonder what the hell I've just done.

I go through the sliding door on the porch and close it quietly. I untie my Ropers and walk lightly through the house. I don't want to wake up Momma or any of the dogs. I make it to the bathroom and rinse my mouth out with Listerine, and I brush twice. I don't wash my hands.

I change into a tee-shirt and a pair of blue plaid flannel jammie bottoms. They're still too long for me, but it's my favorite thing to wear to bed. I go down to the basement. I block out the cedar by smelling Jeff. There is a nervous pit in my stomach, but it's not for talking to my parents. It feels like risk.

"Night, Momma."

She has her hands over the back of her recliner. She wakes up, "I didn't even hear you come in. How was the horse?"

"Real beauty. Collin was leaving for the party when I got there, so I didn't much get to see it. I ran into Mattie on the way back, so we went over to his for a while."

"Oh." She checks her watch, even though there's a time-telling piece on the VCR. "Guess I should be getting to bed. Will you help your brother load Boscoe into the trailer in the morning? They're leaving early."


"I'll wake you up at five, then." She squints at me, "you feeling okay? Your eyes are glossy and your cheeks are flushed."

"I'm fine. Got into a sneezing fit over at Mattie's. Think it's allergies."

"There's some Clariton in my cupboard. I'll get you some tomorrow."

"Oh, Momma?"


"Mattie was wondering if I could spend the night on Thursday since we don't have school on Friday. Then we can go to practice on Friday morning."

"If it's okay with his parents, I don't see why not."

"Night, momma."

She blows me a kis., "Night, sweet pea."

I go back to my room and get into bed. The wood floors are cold, and the spring breeze coming through the window feels good. After I turn off the lamp, my jammies end up around my ankles. I smell the back of my hand while I let my hand wander. My mind takes me on a ride.

"... Jeff!"

# # #

The trailer with Jason's horse is loaded. Jason walks around the barn getting his tack ready. Dad has been talking with him really close, and it makes me nervous.

I run back to the house. Momma's making an early breakfast before Dad and Jason head out. It's a treat when she makes muffins from scratch. I sit down at the table in front of my math book.

Mom looks at me. She's sizzlin' up ham steaks. "Your brother was three sheets to the wind when he came in last night. I'm surprised he didn't wake you up when he went to bed."

"I was pretty out of it. Is that why Dad's been whispering in his ear all morning?"

"He's pretty mad at him."

# # #

Someone brought a ghetto blaster to practice. It's sitting on the bench about three rows up from the chutes playing Garth Brooks. I've got a saddle on a training horse. A junior is helping me get setup.

My spurs clank on the metal bleachers as I run up a few steps to get my gloves. I hop the back of the chute and sit on the edge while I wait for Coach. Mattie is sitting with a small group of team ropers, waiting for the arena.

"Pony up, boy!" Coach sinches a rope.

I sit down in the saddle and tie my left hand off. The junior is holding the bridle while coach finishes tightening the flank rope. The horse tries to jump forward. I readjust, my hand is still snug. This horse won't jump too high unless I really piss him off.

Coach scratches his nose, and puts his hands on his hips. "Watch your shoulders, keep that hand up. This one's an honest bucker, but he likes to bail out. Watch him!"

I hold my right hand up and pull down a bit with my other. Lean back a bit. I nod at the guy holding the rope. "Go!"

He yanks the rope and the chute flies open. I get my points in just below the horse's neck, and he leaps almost straight up on his back legs. There's daylight between me and the saddle; I land it rough and hit my nuts hard enough to knock the wind out of me. I get in a kick under me. The horse makes small hops.

"Lean into him! Shoulders, dammit!"

I spot Jeff sitting on the edge of a chute. My body crumples forward and I let my legs down on the front haunches a bit. My hand comes loose and I roll off the business end of horse.

"That's a disqualification, Lem! God damn it -- if you're gonna ride like a pussy I'm gonna stick you on a sheep!"

Jeff watches me run back to the chute. Our eyes meet. The 8 second buzzer rings behind me.

I sit up on the gate and try to catch my breath. "What the hell just happened?" Coach is in the run looking up at me.

"I Came... Came down square on my nuts."

"Suck it up! Get your saddle and try again." He walks off to see to another go round.

I'm surprised when Jeff walks past behind me and slaps me square in the back, "breathe, kid!" He walks off, carries his tack to a chute with a training bull.

I climb down the back of the gate and run up behind him. He's half over the chute, wrapping the bull.

"Need help?" I almost choke when I say it.

He eyeballs me. "This thing'll bend you in half."

I nod blankly. "I'm, uh, Lem." I hold my hand out to him and he looks at it. He flicks his hat brim and tugs the neck of his chest plate.

"Taylor!" Coach is leaning over a chute. "Get your God damned saddle and haul ass to chute three!"

# # #

I'm in my jammies, sitting next to Mattie in his basement. He sleeps in his undies and a tee shirt. It's supposed to be Ronnie's basement, but he lets us watch movies on his TV and crash on the floor when I sleep over. The new James Bond movie with Daniel Craig is on the satellite.

His mom comes half way down the steps and stops. She's in her night gown. "You two gonna sleep down here?"

"Yeah, mom."

"Okay. We're going to bed. Keep it quiet down here."


"You need anything, Lem?"

"No, ma'am. Thank you."

"Goodnight, you two."

Matthew turns the volume down a few notches. The door upstairs closes. Matthew gets up to take a piss.

I lay back and try not to doze off... close my eyes for a second... an explosion on TV... car tires screetching... music... sleep tugging at me...

Mattie sits down close; it feels like he's leaning against me. I open my eyes and look at him. "What's up?"

He shakes his head. We sit on the couch for a while.

"Let's do something."

"Like what?"

He runs a finger under my jammie waistband tugs, lets them snap back to my side. I stare at the TV, but I can feel him looking at me. I try to look at him without any expression.

I'm not saying yes, I'm not saying no. He knows it.

The invitation's enough. He slides off the couch to his knees, tugs at my pajama bottoms. I lift my hips up a bit, but don't really help him. He takes his undies off, all that's left on is his wife-beater. He sits on his sleeping bag, the bottom of his feet together and his knees out.

"Come sit down here."

I stand up and take a step forward. He pulls my whities down and rubs me. I close my eyes and see Jeff; moan a bit. He pats the spot in front of him, leans back and pulls something out of his sleeping bag.

I sit down, pull my knees to my chest. He grabs my ankles and pulls my legs forward, puts his legs over mine and wraps his legs around my back. Pulls my feet around his back like mine are. We are sitting with our butts together, hard as we dare.

He opens the bottle of lotion he was hiding, puts some on his palm. It's cold when he puts his hand on me. I take the bottle from him and do what he does.

He grinds his against mine. He takes us both into his hand. It feels good. I wonder if Jeff's ever done this. What would this feel like with him? My heart jumps again. I can only think about Jeff's strong hands - the mysterious way he looks out out from under his hat like a curious bird.

Matthew grits down and moans. He whispers in my ear. "Your turn."

The air against it's cool, but I feel heat from his body. I start pulling slowly. Mattie pulls himself against me, tucks his face into my neck. I feel his breath. "Don't stop, Lem. God, don't stop." He inhales suddenly, bites my shoulder.

This is weird.


"Don't stop!" He hugs onto me even tighter, my hand jammed between us. I'm not even moving it -- it's just his thrust. I close my eyes and think of Jeff. The rubbing, his breath. I start countering his movement. He puts his forehead against mine, pulls the back of my neck. "God!"

"Shhh." I try to concentrate. He bites my shoulder again and grabs my shirt with his teeth. "Uhhhhh." He thrusts forward with every moan.

I think of Jeff, I hear Mattie, Jeff, Mattie... He thrusts quicker, I go faster. "Oh, God! Ohhhhhhh..." He sounds like he's crying.

I'm so close. I think of Mattie, I hear Jeff. "Ah! Ah! Ahhhhh! Ahhhh! - Fah... God Fuck!"

Matthew pushes me over and gets on top of me, grinding and rubbing the sticks. We're both going now - it's almost too much. Mashing it together. I can't stand it. I put my hands on his butt and pull down on him. He cums just a little bit before I do. I feel warm and throbbing, I feel Jeff breathing into my neck, my ears are ringing, eyes watering. I stare at the ceiling.

Another explosion. A car chase. Someone got shot with a silencer. Aston Martin. The ceiling. Ringing. Breathing. Heart Beating -- the both of us. Weight on my chest. Sticky. Sweaty. Breathing harder. Jeff on me.

Matthew pushes himself up on his arms and looks down into my eyes, strawberry blond matted against his head; I'm crushed. I feel like I'm staring right through him. The ceiling. God... Jeff.


Please let me know what you think of the story. Send critiques to with the subject "Lem.". Thanks for reading!