This is a work of fiction. No one was exploited in the creation of this fable. In some locales, even reading about fictional teenagers having imaginary sex is prohibited. Local laws apply.
This story explicitly depicts young men forming erotic bonds with each other. Generally they are between the ages of 14 to 17, and they "generally" agree that peer relationships are best. However, among this particular group of youths, there are some who consider scoring some hot older fellow a coup, while there are others who remain enchanted by younger lads. These liaisons appear as dangerous edges, and the author has attempted to depict such outlawish trysts in a realistic way. Also, some of the fellows depicted here do other "bad boy" things like experiment with drugs and get in terrible fights. Last, being sexually versatile, as jocks typically are, they occasionally even have sex with girls. Ultimately, many are the spirits of the young who, in these pages, simply say, "Fuck the rules."
There is plenty of raunchy sex in this tale, but if all you are looking for is pure fapping material utterly devoted to some precise specialty, you might want to look elsewhere. In publisher's lingo, this is a "Coming of Age" novel.
Author's Note: An interesting thing about Ricky is how rarely he understands himself. It seems that others are always "getting him" before he does. Oddly, even though I write about them, characters seem to have a life of their own, just like Roan's arrows.
All week, Roan had been thinking how to approach Ricky.
He had not really explained it well to Ricky. He had been following an owl who kept flitting from tree to tree. He wanted to see the owl catch something. The Boone family lot was a good place to watch owls. It was good hunting grounds for them. He wanted to see how close he could get to one, so climbing the tree had already been in his mind when he saw Ryan and Ricky take what he knew was a sneaky route back to the gazebo. It had aroused his curiosity. He did not think that he, himself would be "treed!"
Then, he discovered that Ricky was one of those people who had that extra sense of "feeling watched." He was like an Indian that way. He had magic. There was that weird moment where Ricky had looked right at him as he hid in the tree. He had spoken to the owl.
This gave Roan goosebumps all over.
But no. Ricky had just gone back to bed, only to toss and turn and thrash around. Trembling, Roan had climbed down only when he heard Ricky snore a little. He was shivering. He felt guilty. He felt he had witnessed a private time; he had violated something sacred.
He had not seen much in the dark, but he had seen enough. He knew that his cock got hard and stayed hard watching them. He knew that he wanted to do that kind of stuff with another guy. He knew that made him gay. That was the word. There was no other word. He knew!
He had watched Ricky and Ryan after that. Those were their names. Keeping it casual, he had asked around, who was who, who lived in what cabin, who was just visiting, and who was from an old family.
Everyone knew Ricky.
And he was so handsome!
But Ricky was all eyes for his buddy Ryan, who was just visiting.
Roan watched. And waited. There was that one moment the next day when Ricky was trotting down to the beach, and he had looked right at him. Like he knew. But the moment passed.
He had hoped to catch Ricky's eye, but he never saw anything other than that one, intense glance. It figures. Why would a guy like that be interested in a boy like me?
But then, when that guy Ryan left, Ricky looked so sad! He was all alone. No other kids were on the rocks. Roan knew then it was now or never, so he made his play.
And Ricky, to his great surprise, had looked him over and found him hot! He could see it in his eyes. Of course, it helped that he had boned up. This way, Ricky knew. That had just happened. But Ricky was so beautiful!
The questions. Total third degree. Roan was not expecting that. He had tried to think of all the things Ricky might say or do, but that surprised him. Even though he knew Ricky liked him and thought he was hot. He thought it was simple. I like you. You like me. Let's do it!
But it wasn't like that.
And then! It was like that! Roan had been worried that Ricky would, well, just try to rape him. He was not too worried, but who knows what a strong guy will do when he is excited? He was surprised that instead Ricky wanted to be so... so receptive!
Roan was no fool. He knew that Ricky was doing him a favor. He doubted that Ricky just liked to suck dick and get fucked, only. He saw the way he had fucked that Ryan guy. He would want his dick sucked, and he would want to fuck him.
That was fine. Roan wanted that too. He was willing to try everything. It was better with an older guy. In the meantime, he was glad that Ricky let him have his way. Maybe that was how it was with gay guys? Let the new guy have his kicks?
But then, there was that way Ricky had man handled him, making him suck his dick, making him gag, and blowing his load all over his face, laughing. Roan was surprised to find out how fun that was! He had liked the way Ricky bossed him for that time. And the feel and taste of a big cock in his mouth! Wow! It was hard and soft at the same time. He loved it. Cock sucking was beautiful.
Roan had not known how it would be. It was a risk. He knew he wanted to do more with this older boy, but he also knew he liked just getting off over and over. Finally!
In the end, he decided he would just let it happen.
After they had played on the secret beach, Roan had gone back to his cabin. He and his dad were going to build a sweathouse. Roan could not neglect that, nor did he wish too. He did not tell Ricky that. He would tell his father that he had met a white boy who was pretty cool for a white, and only with his father's permission would he invite Ricky over. He only told Ricky that he had promised he would spend time with him, and Ricky accepted that easily.
The next day, however, sitting on the rocks with him, above the beach. Ricky was cool and distant. This upset Roan.
But Damn! He was so amazing!
He was so tall and strong. His skin, except for the parts covered by his shorts, was almost as brown as his own, and he was not all hairy like so many other, older teenagers. He was all rippling muscle, and he had tough looking little nicks and scars here and there on his skin. Roan especially liked his chest muscles. Like a movie star! Ricky's nipples were particularly lovely. They were not dark, like his own. They blended in with his skin, and they were, he had found, very sensitive. And Ricky had such long legs! The shapes of them were perfect! And that ass! Roan started to bone up, remembering the big handfuls of butt cheeks he grabbed wile he fucked Ricky's hot hole. He had even slapped that ass! And Ricky had just laughed, encouraging him to fuck him harder, faster!
Then there was that way Ricky would reach up and swipe his hand through his golden hair. So sexy! And that big dick and heavy balls! Roan had been a little intimidated, at first, but he got over that fast.
Ricky was in his favorite spot on the rocks. He always sat there. Roan had sat beside him, sitting on the beach side, a little higher up in one on one of the recessions in the rocks. It allowed him to stretch his legs out, enticing Ricky, and it kept him from sliding down the slope of the rocks. Ricky was just staring at the water, seemingly ignoring him. He had gone, "Huh?" several times when Roan had tried to chat. He wasn't even listening!
Finally, he asked him, "Why, Ricky? Why do you you seem far away?"
Ricky had looked at him strangely, he said, "Honestly, Roan, I'm feeling guilty! It's not fair to you. I'm a big guy. You're a little guy. I'm into architecture, music, literature, and history. You are into... Oh! I don't know! What are you into?"
Roan could not keep the tears from rising into his eyes. What the fuck?
He wanted to shout, "How could you? How could you hold me and kiss me and love me like that and then say, 'Oh, I don't know, you know?' It was wrong! Fuck you, you fucking fuck!"
He wanted to scream!
But he did not say those things.
Instead, he said, "OK. Now you have really hurt my feelings! You never even asked. You never even really talked with me, I mean, well, about our lives. My life. Not really. You are not being fair! How do you know what I'm into or not into?"
Ricky did not look mean. He was not a mean guy. Quietly then, Ricky said, "Fair enough. Fair enough. So what are you 'into?'"
Roan, knowing they had to find a common ground, and feeling desperately wounded, rose up for battle. "I love being outside. I love the wind in the trees and the feel of cold water. I love to watch life living life, the creatures you know? With their habits and patterns and beauty? I love the sun and the moon. I love the cold and the rain and the snow and the heat. I know a lot of things! Why, if there was, like, a zombie apocalypse, I could survive!"
Ricky stared at him, not saying anything.
"I am a good hunter too. I bet I could shoot an arrow better than you, and, I could catch more fish!"
That worked! Ricky nodded with his eyes big. He said, "I love all those things too. Maybe we could go camping. Have you ever shot a gun?"
"Yes. A couple times with my uncle, but, I like my bow much better!"
Then Ricky was smiling, "But sorry, there is NO WAY you are a better fisherman than me. I am the king fisher of this river; well, except for my uncle Dan and my grandfather and a couple of my grand uncles."
"Oh," Roan said, feeling victorious, "I doubt that very much!"
"We shall see then, won't we?"
"Yes, we shall see!"
"I'm no good with a bow, I must admit."
"I could teach you."
"Hoo hoo! Right now! Let's swim across, grab my bow and arrows, head up the tracks, cross the upper bridge, and shoot our way down the wide part. How about that?"
At Roan's cabin across the river, very near the swimming hole, dripping wet, Ricky met Roan's mother. She, he could see, had much the same look as her son. Also, she had that same long, long black hair. Being wet, Ricky waited on the front porch while Roan dashed inside to gather up his gear. The mother, after meeting Ricky, immediately came back out with a tall, frosty-cold glass of "ginger" tea. It was fantastically delicious! It made Ricky's tongue tingle, and it made his mind feel sharp and clear. When he commented on this, Roan's mother said ginger was a known "nootropic."
"Yes, mind enhancing. It makes you smarter!"
"May I have some more?"
She laughed happily at that and brought him another glass. Before he could drink it down, Roan reappeared with his bow and arrows. He had changed from his swimming trunks into a pair of jeans, but he was still barefoot and shirtless, holding some additional clothes and what appeared to be moccasins as well.
Ricky offered the mostly full glass to Roan, who promptly took it and guzzled it down. Ricky told him, "Your mom says it is 'nootropic.'"
Roan grinned. "My mom knows all about medicine." He pointed at a spot on his forearm. "You see this scar?"
"Exactly!" This was evidently very funny to Roan, for he laughed loudly for a long time.
His mom, shaking her head and chuckling, shook her head, and taking the empty glass, said, "I am all out of the tea, but would you guys like water?"
"We'll be fine, Mom," Roan answered.
She returned inside, and Roan handed Ricky a large, plaid shirt. "This is my dad's. It'll keep you from burning. You sure you don't need shoes?"
"I should be OK."
"It gets hot on the tracks. I cut my foot one time on this shard of metal on the tracks."
"I'll be careful. It's only a half mile up the river to the north bridge."
"More like a mile, I think."
Ricky knew it was not a mile, but he did not argue. "I'll be OK. Cool moccasins by the way!"
"I made them! Well, I and a my uncle Thomas. He makes Indian stuff. He helped me and taught me. This style is actually Blackfoot. My tribe made sandals of woven grass. I shot the deer I made the leather from. We used its brains to tan it!"
"Wow. You are like the first guy I ever met who know how to tan leather... besides me!" Ricky announced the last triumphantly.
Roan eyed him suspiciously. "So," he tested, "how much brains does it take to tan a hide?"
"There's an old joke about that," Ricky answered, testing him back, and then in unison, they said together, "An animal has just enough brains to save his skin, dead or alive!"
This was extremely funny to them both.
Roan finished putting on his moccasins, lacing them very carefully, and he threw on big, white t-shirt with some Indian design, a circle with weaving in the middle, and feather decorations. Ricky put on the big, plaid "lumberjack" shirt, but not before smelling it.
Roan noticed that. He said, I've seen how you like to smell stuff too. What does that shirt smell like?"
"Kind of 'woody,' like cedar or juniper, maybe."
"Yep. My dad lines the closets with that. Keeps the bugs out!"
What Ricky was finding interesting about this exchange was that they were not flirting with each other at all. They were just a couple of teenagers doing stuff that guys their age liked to do, and competing with each other the way guys liked to do.
They had made a game. Following Roan's route, they arrived at the open area above the community where the place widened out into a broad, sandy area. The walk had been hard on Ricky's feet. The train tracks were brutal. The greasy black railroad ties were hot, and often sticky with oozing tar. The gravel in between the ties and on the sides was jagged. So Ricky had tried to walk most of the way, balancing on the rail of the track. Roan, not to be outdone, had tried the same. Keeping count of the number of times they lost their balance was the challenge, and it had been an even match. They were both good at the game.
It was only after crossing the long, wooden bridge, when Ricky said he wanted to soak his hot feet in the water that they flirted a bit.
It was the very same shady, private spot under a cottonwood that Ricky had taken Joshua on their long walk back, and Josh had wanted to rinse his "raunchy ass." Ricky slipped his feet into the cold water with a sigh; Roan sat right next to him and leaned into him affectionately. Ricky reached up and petted Roan's hair, noticing it was still wet behind his neck. Upon commenting about this, Roan said, "Yeah. It takes forever to dry, but it keeps my head cool. Long hair is a pain. I have to wash it and comb it a lot, but it is the way of my tribe, you know?"
"I like it. You have beautiful hair. You are beautiful, Roan. I am sorry I hurt your feelings."
"It's OK," roan said, looking down in that shy, humble way of his. "Say! You know why they named me 'Roan?'"
"Well, a 'roan' is a kind of horse coat color. Have you ever heard of that?"
"I have heard of that, but I never heard what it meant."
Roan smiled. "It's a kind of coat that has black hairs and red hairs in it. Did you notice I have some reddish hairs in my black hairs?"
"I did notice that! I also noticed that your hair has a little reddish color in the sunlight."
"Yeah, I have a red-headed grandfather on my father's mother's side. A lot of Indians, probably even most, are mixed these days, did you know that?"
"I thought that might be true, but I never heard an Indian say it. But that makes me ask, 'What is an Indian?' Also, you don't mind being called 'Indian?'"
"I do not mind. My dad says the 'Native American' thing is a big deal for some, but in California and Oregon, I never heard of any who cared. Our ancestors came from Asia. You know that, right?"
"Yeah. But I heard that some Indians don't believe that. They say they were always here."
"Well, that's bullshit. DNA tests prove it. My tribe is actually related to the Mongols north of China, and when you compare pictures, it's obvious!"
"You know a lot, Roan!"
"Nah. I just know some stuff." There was that humble streak again.
"But you asked, "What is an Indian? That's a good question. For me, it means I am a part of my tribe, and my tribe is a part of me. I can not tell you where one ends and the other begins, and if someone told me I had to move away from the land of my tribe? I would just die. I know a couple of Indians that you could not even tell they were Indians by looking at them, and they are the same way."
"Hmmm. I feel the same way about this place and my family. Maybe it's not the same, but it is kind of the same."
"Maybe," Roan said non-committally, but he rubbed his cheek on Ricky's shoulder sweetly.
Ricky added, "There are, like, six hundred people in my family, and we all live up here and in Oregon. I even have a Yaqui great, great grandmother."
"No. How could I lie about something like that? Why would I?"
"Because now it's cool to be Indian, but it used to be the worst thing you could be! That's what my mom and dad say. That's what all the elders say! Only now, suddenly. being an Indian is cool, so everyone is saying, 'Yeah, I'm part Cherokee' or whatever. Part bullshit, is what they are!"
Ricky laughed. He was a little surprised by Roan's rant, but not terribly so. He could never begrudge a Native American his anger. He explained, "Yeah, I understand that, but really! One of my great, great grandfathers came from Spain to Mexico, and he married an Indian. They raised sheep and made blankets in Mexico, so I'm part Mexican. Seriously! Then my great grandmother on my mom's side married a white guy from California. He was a traveler, a trader, and they moved to California. My great grandmother said her Spanish father was blond. Did you know that there are blonds in Spain? And she was kind of gold colored."
Roan looked at him curiously. He said, "Well, you do have a little hint of that, tall, strong squared off look that Yaquis have. And those cheekbones. Hmmm. I believe you! That is fucking cool! If it's a 'great-great,' that makes you one-sixteenth Indian! Oh, wait till I tell my dad! He'll let you sweat with us!"
"'Sweat' with you?"
"Yes! Did you see the teepees behind the cabin?"
"Well, there's one he and I made for sleeping. That's where I sleep, and any boys who come over, and the other is not covered yet. It's smaller, but that's for sweating. You know about that, don't you?"
"Where, like, you heat up rocks and pour water on them inside the teepee?"
"Yeah, except most tribes around here don't make a 'teepee' exactly, they make these more rounded things, but my dad and his brother actually grew up on a Blackfoot reservation, so they have all these things they make and do from there. They are part Blackfoot, and so am I, but not my mom. She is Modoc and part Navajo. She grew up in Arizona! He mom is from Oregon though, and like I said, we Indians connect to a place, and my parents needed to come back to here."
Ricky was touched by all that. He looked down at Roan and lifted his face up gently with delicate fingers on his chin. Roan looked back at him, the deep pools of his dark eyes glowed with shards of glittering, golden sienna, like opals.
"And what," Ricky asked, when at last their lips parted, "does your tribe think about queers like us?"
"Oh," Roan said, tossing his hair in the dramatic way he did, "It's no big deal. Not like white people, uh, no offense?"
Roan continued, "In fact, many of us are considered shamans. I have always enjoyed doing things that the men think are women's work, like weaving, and making fishing lures, and gathering herbs. I have heard the talk. They say say we walk in two worlds, and we are prone to being a little crazy."
Ricky laughed loudly. "I'll buy that! But you say making fishing lures is 'women's work?'"
"Yes. Traditionally. I think it's because you have to have delicate fingers."
"Hmm. I make my own flies for fishing. I first learned from my Uncle Dan, but I even took classes back home."
"You fly fish?"
"I warned you I was a good fisherman! I can shoot the eye out of a sparrow at a hundred yards with my rifle too — without a scope!"
They were back to their boyish bragging.
"Well, we will just see about that! Wait until you see how I shoot a bow!"
"Yes! I am looking forward to that! But, you know? I got all sweaty from the walk on the tracks. I'd like to take a quick dip to rinse off."
Roan liked that idea. The tree branches overhung the river, and even though there was a cabin on the other side of the stream, there was no one by the river there. They undressed quickly and had a "quick dip," without getting their hair wet, giving each other, on Ricky's suggestion, fast scrubs to each others armpits and nether parts making each other giggle with the tickling. It was, of course, very sexy, but it was also done very quickly, and as quickly, they dressed.
The break was over.
Ricky did not take Roan to his "spot," the place where he and Joshua had fucked so often. He would save that for later. Instead they walked over to the far side of the "meadow." It was dry, so one could hardly say "meadow," but it was like a meadow, with few trees. On the east was an rising slope with no houses, no trails or roads, and no people. Ricky insisted they scout the area to make sure there were no people. It was, he announced, "A good place for shooting arrows."
It was Ricky, finally feeling horny again, who suggested it. They'd pick a target. Whoever got closest won, and the winner got to play "winner's choice."
That meant "something gay," Ricky explained.
"I don't think that's very smart of you, Ricky," Roan teased. "I think that means you really want to suck my dick and get fucked over and over!"
"I do want to suck your dick and get fucked 'over and over!' I like your cute dick, and I like getting you off!"
"Hmph! Well, you better not try to miss! I hate having to hunt for lost arrows!"
As it turned out, Ricky had underestimated Roan's bowmanship and overestimated his own skill. He had figured that Roan was not lying about being a good shot, but he had not expected him to be as good as he was.
Ricky, try as he might, could not outshoot him!
The first time, aiming at a pine cone, Ricky's shot glanced off to the side, but Roan stuck it dead center, knocking it from the low, sweeping branch!
While searching for Ricky's arrow, Roan teased him, "Oh, you are going to be sucking my dick and getting fucked a lot today! Does that make you happy, you fag!"
They were in a shady spot, far from the road, under an old white oak. It was a good spot for sex.
"Actually," Ricky suggested sweetly in a lilting girly tone, "I was hoping you might like your ass kissed and licked. Maybe you would like me to do that? First?"
Roan giggled at Ricky's imitation of a poof. "Yes!" he said, his tone bossy. "Besides, you owe me!"
"I 'owe' you?"
"Yes! For hurting my feelings! Kiss my ass, you fag!"
As he said this, He turned his back to Ricky, undid his fly, and slid down his trousers, revealing his hard, brown little butt, which, as he lifted up his t-shirt, he wiggled enticingly.
Ricky was glad Roan had taken his hint. As Roan held up his shirt and leaned with one hand against the trunk of the old oak, Ricky knelt down behind him and lovingly massaged Roan's lovely round butt checks. With paired thumbs, he parted them to reveal the little pick rosebud of Roan's sphincter. It was tiny!
Ricky gave the crack a preliminary lick, not letting his tongue quite touch Roan's diminutive ring. This made the boy shudder and shake his butt up and down excitedly. He kissed his cute butt all over then, making happy cooing noises while Roan sighed. He smelled good. He tasted like sweaty boy!
Then, slowly, he licked all around the hole, making it pucker and pulse! Roan had a truly beautiful anus! There were only a few delicate, fine hairs there. Feeling Roan's taint grow firm as he stroked it with the tips of gentle fingers, and seeing Roan's darling balls ride up, Ricky knew Roan was completely hard and probably already ready to shoot.
Testing this, Ricky used a little more force to squeeze Roan's balls. Such a cute wrinkle between them! He tried to stick his tongue in Roan's tight little fuckhole, but that was impossible. He only succeeded in making it pucker up more.
Roan was then jiggling his butt so quickly, he was almost twerking! Ricky could hardly lick it with all of Roan's excited motions, so grabbing Roan's balls with one hand and compressing them with a strong grip, he reached up with his other hand and stroked Roan's rigid member delicately, the way he had learned that this most sensitive of lovers liked.
What Ricky liked was the way any guy's cock throbbed and pulsed as his load exploded, which Roan's did, decorating the trunk in front of them with precious fertilizer.
Roan suddenly sagged then. His legs were shaking, he moaned. "Wow. You really know how to get a guy off, huh, Ricky?"
This was a compliment Ricky could accept.
He popped a mint into his mouth as Roan pulled up his jeans and did his fly before turning around and kneeling to kiss Ricky. As a new thing, and sweetly seductive treat for each other, they passed the mint back and forth between each other's mouths.
Roan, after spitting the mint back into Ricky's mouth, commented, "I think I am understanding what really turns you on."
His expression was enigmatic, as he petted Ricky's hard cock, which was tenting his shorts,
Ricky was figuring that out too.
"Let us," Roan suggested, standing up, "set up a target so if we miss, we won't have to hunt for the arrows. Something low so we are shooting down. Hmmm. How about we put this pine cone against the tree stump over there?" He indicated a gray, old, low oak stump nearer the mountain side.
This was agreeable to Ricky. He enjoyed watching Roan cutely pace off the distance with straight-legged goose steps.
Roan announced as he scraped out a line in the sandy soil, "This should be just about exactly a hundred feet. That's a good range for a bow. That's about as far away as I get when I am hunting. But let's do three out of four; I have eight arrows. That should be enough. Otherwise, you are going to be sucking my dick or letting me fuck your ass, like, fifty times an hour!"
Roan did not quite get the joke when Ricky kidded him, "It's nice that you are so fair."
"Yes," Roan agreed seriously, "I try to be fair."
Ricky was definitely enjoying Roan. He was not merely a hot, baby bull stud, he was an interesting person! He regretted that strange need for distance he had felt about him because he was so young. The kid was holding his own.
Ricky really tried to shoot as well as Roan, but he was simply a superb shot. His form was so elegant! He would take a stance, very precisely, shuffling his feet, getting it just right, then draw back the bow as he lifted it, and fire almost the instant he had it sighted.
Most times, the arrows would not stick; they would bounce off the stump. This was because they were "target points." Ricky knew what those were. He had noticed they were blunted from heavy use. Also, not all the arrows shot as straight as others.
But Roan knew that. To "make it fair" he would hold the arrows behind his back, shuffle them, and have Ricky pick a hand.
Ricky commented, after only hitting the pine cone once to Roan's three, "Well, these are your arrows. so you've learned how to shoot them."
"Yes," Roan agreed, "they are, and they each have their own personality, but a good bowman should be able to study any arrow and make it go where he wants because he can see which way the arrow likes to go, and, anyway, you owe me a blow job."
Ricky did not fail to notice how Roan spoke of his arrows as living things. Interesting! But he sighed. "I see how this is going to go. How about I get your cock just sloppy wet and then you fuck me with it? How about that for all the times you beat me at target practice. I concede! You are a brilliant shot! I wish you would teach me! I obviously do not know what I am doing. I admit it! OK?"
Roan chuckled huskily, and his look was teasing when he said, "How about I come in your mouth, and then fuck you a couple times?"
Letting himself be dominated by this younger, smaller guy was an erotic thrill, but Ricky had really had enough of that game. He said, "Oh, I know this is a kick for you, Roan, and fair is fair, but let's not take it too far."
This guy! What a dude!
Roan knew perfectly well that Ricky was "playing" him.
His hurt feelings from the late morning were forgotten. Ricky genuinely liked him. He liked him so much he wanted to please him. He was making an effort to be an equal, not a bossy, domineering, know-it-all "big kid." He figured out Ricky was "coming his way." And he knew at some time, Ricky would demand a turnaround.
Roan was down for that. He'd play along. He had wanted Ricky to respect him, and he was satisfied. Ricky respected him.
He also figured out that for Ricky, the big kick was getting guys off. That's what got Ricky off. He was not sure that Ricky even knew that about himself, and Roan took a prideful pleasure into having that insight. He was younger than Ricky, but he could see into people maybe... better!
He decided he would not tell his hot, blond friend this. Ricky would have to figure this out for himself. Besides, Ricky was the coolest older guy Roan had ever known. Well, besides my dad. And my uncle... And maybe Chief Franklin...
But those guys were straight. And they were really old and not sexy at all. Ricky was his sexy friend.
And then, almost as if he was reading his mind, Ricky, naked, legs spread, stroking his long white cock, laughing, teasing, taunting, is saying, "All that stuff you've been thinking about when you jack off? Do it! Do it now!"
Roan ripped off his shirt and kicked off his moccasins. He slipped off his jeans a leapt on top of Ricky, straddling him.
First, he ground his junk into Ricky's He liked that action. Roan liked, What did Ricky call it? 'Frottage?' He kissed him. Roan liked kissing. He loved kissing. He kissed Ricky a lot. And then, feeling bold, following an instinct, he asked, rubbing noses, smiling evilly, "You want to be my bitch?"
Ricky panted, "I like it when you boss me!"
Roan had to suppress a silly giggle. He grunted instead and got up on his knees to scoot forward. He grabbed the back of Ricky's head, and he made Ricky rub his face against his cock and balls; at the same time, he thrust his hips, swaying them from side to side so his cock slapped against Ricky's face. He used his dick to poke Ricky's eyes, and he slapped Ricky's nose before he stuck it in Ricky's mouth and face fucked him as hard as he could, still holding Ricky's head!
Ricky actually whimpered a little bit, and that turned Roan on even more. He almost came!
But Roan did not want to come yet. After yesterday, after coming over and over, his balls had ached all night. Ricky, he had figured out, liked to hold it off. He would try that.
So instead of just dumping his load down Ricky's throat, right then, he hopped off him and got behind Ricky, again grabbing his head in both hands, and he wiped his sweaty balls on Ricky's face. Feeling the big guy's tongue lashing out, he squatted astradle his face and rubbed his asshole on it, spreading his butt cheeks with his hands.
Ricky is a nasty boy! He likes it. His hips are bucking and his long spear is so hard!
He lets Ricky lick his hole for a while. Roan likes that. It is so soothing! He laughs at Ricky. "You are one nasty fag, huh?"
Roan moves his hips back so he can fuck Ricky in the mouth again. And Ricky, gasping for breath, pants, "Talk dirty to me!"
Roan, fucking his mouth hard kneeling behind, with Ricky's head tipped back, can see the bulge in Ricky's throat as he long-cocks his mouth, complies with Ricky's demand. "You are the faggiest fag, huh, Ricky boy? You like cock? You like getting your mouth fucked?"
Ricky obviously likes it!
Again, Roan almost blows his load, but he holds off. He orders Ricky to get on his hands and knees. "I am fucking you like a dog! Bitch!
Ricky does as he is told. Instantly. He is whimpering and moaning and panting.
Roan sticks it to him, forcefully entering Ricky's tight, hot hole, and pounding him hard and fast. He even gives Ricky's butt a few hard slaps! This only makes Ricky giggle. He gets Ricky in a strong grip. He bends over to wrap one arm around his chest and another around his neck so he could fuck Ricky even harder!
That does it.
He can not hold off. His balls clench up and it feels like his butthole could have opened a beer bottle, so hard did it clench as he explodes inside Ricky's sensational boy pussy.
But of course, Roan was not finished. After a few more shuddering thrusts, without a word, Roan dropped out of Ricky's incredible cunt and pushed Ricky over onto his back, and spreading his legs with his he fucked Ricky again!
Ricky was half on the big shirt they used as spread and half in the dirt. Roan didn't care. He lifted Ricky's arms up over his head to make him feel owned, and holding his upper body up, he fucked him more, teasing him, "You act all tough, but look at you now? You are such a girl! You love getting fucked, don't you?"
"I love it!"
Roan fucked him hard again. For a little while, and then, suddenly, he wanted to kiss Ricky. He wanted to slow fuck him. He wanted to make it last. So he slowed down and let go of Ricky's arms. He dropped forward and kissed his man boy very sweetly and lovingly. Ricky responded by wrapping his arms and legs around him, making Roan feel small, and... beloved!
It was beautiful!
Roan almost came again. He held himself off only by driving his cock in deep and not pumping in and out. In this way, for perhaps a half and hour he fucked Ricky. But Ricky had a way of squeezing his sphincter that grabbed at the head of his dick strongly. It felt like Ricky was using his ass to jack him off!
He thought he would faint at the third and final climax of that afternoon's lovemaking.
He wanted to suck Ricky's cock then. It was time to get his guy off. He was such a good sport!
Feeling very girly and gay, Roan then gave Ricky the best blow job he could. He used his hands a lot, playing with Ricky's big balls and stroking his thick, long cock. He could not swallow cock like Ricky. In fact, his jaw ached a little from only a few minutes of cock sucking.
But Ricky was primed and pumped. And of course there was too much to swallow! Fuck, but this guy makes a lot of jizz!
Ricky, he knew, liked to lick it all up. He let him wash his face with his tongue, slurping up all the come noisily, and, with the gayest flourish, spit it onto Roan's tongue!
"That was crazy!" Roan gasped, laying beside him as Ricky sat up to dig in the pockets of his shorts for the mints. He offered one to Roan, but Roan told him, "I like what we did before, you know? Sharing?
Ricky says nothing. He only smiles as he pops the mint in his mouth to get it all wet with his saliva before passing it gently into mouth, then swishing it around with his tongue.
Using one of Joshua's lines, Ricky tells Roan, "Paybacks will be epic, little dude!"
Roan only laughs.
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