Date: Sat, 18 Jan 2003 08:43:47 -0800 From: Elliott Payne Subject: River Oaks Summer Part 2 A furious storm raged that night. My room lit up with bolts of lightning, and an old coke can rattled on the shelf each time the thunder rolled through. I dreamt of Chips's older brother, who I hardly knew, an Eagle Scout whose picture had once made the metro section of the newspaper. Now he was an evil scout chasing me around my own house, the house we lived in when I was younger, cursing, livid, pushing me down. It was morning. I went down to the kitchen. My dad was still there finishing his breakfast. I poured some coffee and sat with him at the kitchen table. What was his own youth like, I wondered, growing up in a small rural town in south Texas. Did such things happen then? No. Certainly not. My father would never participate in these things. He fucked my mom missionary style, once a month maybe, and that was it. One thing was for certain, in my mind at least, he would fucking disown me if he ever found out. He had made enough derisive comments about fags and queers for me to understand that this behavior was morally wrong, against the laws of nature. Well, he was never going to find out what I was all about, and that was all there was to it. I went upstairs and took off my clothes in front of the bathroom mirror, thinking about going back over to Chip's again today. Okay. What do I have going for me? I know I have a really cute face, with long dark hair and dark eyes. Very good looking, actually, people do notice me. A bit feminine? Well, yes, I'll have to admit it, but young boys often are. Right? And girls have always been crazy for me, since like the third grade. But my body and my dick. Jeez. The other guys, especially jocks like Chip, they're so much bigger than me. They have muscles, chests, biceps. My body is small and thin, and I am only now beginning to have hair on my pubes and under my arms. Most of my peers are growing up, developing, getting real thick pubic hair, developing chests and shoulders. I feel embarrassed when I look at my body. I want to do other stuff with Chip, but I could never let him see me naked. He would just start laughing. Yet, I'm sure, he does see something. He did select me. I walk over to his house, but when I reach his front yard, I chicken out and keep walking, down to the end of the block, and back. Okay this time I make it up to the door, stand there for a bit, oh fuck, finally press the doorbell. Presto. There he is. Gray shorts this time and a white muscle shirt, no shoes. Has big feet, I notice. In junior high I had had crushes on a couple of guys. But the ones I picked were nothing like Chip. My fantasies usually involved thin twinkie guys like myself. Chip was a football player, not a lineman, but like defensive backfield. Beefy but not a garbage truck. Tall with dirty blonde hair and very fair skin. Not someone I would have chosen myself. But his skin was smooth and man that dick was really cool. This time, no pretension at all, we got down to the basement, smoked a little bit of weed, turned on some tunes. Chip's dick starts tenting right away. He peels his shorts off, no underwear, laughs nervously. "Do you mind Duncan? I like to be nude when I get high." This guy has some guts. "No problem." He takes off the tee shirt. He has really smooth white skin, and very little hair on his body, around his pubes, yes, a dark blonde bush, and a faint trail of hairs up to his belly button, but none on his chest, and none at all on his butt. It's so smooth and milky white. He has a large dark birth mark on the back of his thigh. He sits down on the couch, spreads his legs out a bit, and just lets me drink in all of his nakedness. I am hypnotized. His dick is hard and throbbing. He enjoys showing off his body to me. He is very excited. Pre-cum leaks from the head of his stiff penis. I sit near him and stare. I touch my dick through my jeans. "You can take your clothes off too if you want." "No thanks. I'm okay." "Suit yourself Duncan." We sit together like this for quite a while, listening to music, having a soda. Every so often he will get up, go to the stereo, change the record, go to the fridge for some ice cubes, maneuvering around the room to provide me with the advantage of every possible angle, his big dick standing at full erection, enjoying the warmth of my eager gaze. Now he stands in front of me, one foot on the coffee table, examining an album cover, his dick pointing straight at me. Next he faces away, bending over to pick up a discarded lighter, presenting me with a delicious view of his hairless ass cheeks, his furry blonde crack, and his small brown anus. My mind swims in the warm luscious nastiness of it. He sits on the couch next to me, turns sideways with his back resting on the arm, feet on the cushions, legs spread, facing me. I have the full view of his ass, crotch, loose hanging balls, his big pumping pink dick straining upwards to his belly button, the whiteness of his lower abdomen, his bushy blonde pubic hairs, the whole show. He grasps his dick and begins pumping slowly. He looks at me. My scalp itches. "You like lookin at my dick don't you Duncan?" I nod. He's pumping harder now. "What else do you want to do with my dick, Duncan, besides just watch it?" "I dunno." Sliding the head all the way back into the foreskin, squeezing it slowly back out, pausing, pinching the base of the head tightly. "You wanna touch it Duncan?" "Uh huh." Nodding. "Come over here ... Its okay." I kneel beside the couch. He takes my hand, places it around the shaft of his dick. "Just play with it. Do whatever you feel like." I pump it up and down gently. I can nearly get my hand around it. It is smooth and warm, and pulses in my hand. He squeezes with his dick muscles. I can feel it surge and twitch. I stare at it, in my own hand, another boy's hard dick in my own hand, pumping up and down, squeezing, oozing pre-cum. I work my own dick with my free hand, through my blue jeans. This is better than jumping off the bluffs at Lake Rexford. He's getting close. "Pull down your pants Duncan." I stand, uncertain, not letting go of his dick. "Please Duncan, just your pants." I unfasten the button, and unzip the fly. In a flash Chip yanks down my jeans, while I continue jacking away at his dick, faster, more forcefully. I'm standing in my white briefs, with my pants down around my ankles, my dick so stiff it hurts, a large wet spot on the front of my underpants. I don't care what he does now. He can get me naked, kiss me, French kiss me, put his dick in my mouth, my butt, I don't care, I'm fuckin so horned up, I'm gunna blow any second. He leaves my briefs on me, doesn't push, squeezes and caresses my butt through the white cotton fabric with one hand, and rubs my front with the other hand. He doesn't go under, only caresses and rubs from the outside. I start to blow in my shorts. He feels me coming. I'm still squeezing his dick and pumping for all I'm worth. "Jack me dude ... Keep fuckin jackin me ... Hard ... Jack me hard." He blows. Spunk flies everywhere. I get it all over my hands, on the couch, on my shirt, all over his chest. He gets up, goes to the bathroom for a towel. I glance at my watch. 3:30 in the afternoon. I've been here over four hours. How does that happen? After I come I feel nervous, claustrophobic. I am dressed when he returns. I'm surprised he's still naked when he comes back out. "What no swim again?" "I gotta go." "More grass to cut?" "No. I gotta go home." Its too wet to do any work today. "So soon?" "I gotta go man." He chuckles. "Duncan, before you go..." "Yeah?" "Here, let's smoke a burro." A Marlboro, he means. "Good idea." He fishes out the pack - reds, in a box - and lights two with the Bic lighter he picked up earlier, hands one to me. We smoke. His dick is soft now. He tells me anytime I want to come over to play with his dick, its okay. I don't have to do anything I don't want to. I can just look at it, or touch it, or we can read Playboys together. "And if you wanna do more, that's cool too. It's my favorite toy, Duncan, and my parents taught me to share my toys." Copyright 2003 Elliott Payne