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: Ricky follows his own advice here. He gets bold.
Before and after that, however, we have some "Days of Our Lives" moments for our hero. If you have read this far, you are into the story enough that you won't mind a little ordinary teenage drama to enrich things. Right?
It was still dark when Ricky woke up with terrible thirst. He had a headache.
Rinsing off and brushing his teeth in the back of the Boone cabin, he fretted about River. He seemed cool about it all last night. Would he remain cool? They had been drunk. River had been upset over Susie. He might have a change of heart. He might get distant. He might shy away from Ricky.
He did not notice that his knees were scratched up until he showered and the hot water stung them.
He found this amusing.
He decided to simply do to his usual routine. Clean up, eat with his family, play with the girls, do his assigned chores, and then either read or play music until the sun hit his gazebo. He did not ordinarily ever seek out company in the mornings; that would usually wait until after lunch.
Since he had woken up so very early, his cabin was dark. Everyone else still slept, so Ricky pulled out his guitar and practiced scales, transferring his keyboardist's knowledge to guitar. He did not even have a book of chords to work with, so he was actually having to discover the fingerings for himself. It was a fascinating exercise for him, and it took his mind off everything else.
He would have to simply watch and see how it all rolled out.
Finally, he saw some movement at his cabin, so he went there. He wore his normal attire — his pair of short, cutoff blue jeans with the sides slit, no underwear, no shirt, and no shoes. Seeking out the medicine cabinet in the still dark and quiet cabin, he sprayed his knees with antiseptic, popped a couple aspirins, and then went to the kitchen where he found the twins digging in the refrigerator. He offered to make breakfast for them, and that he did, knowing that soon others would join them. He whipped up a big batch of pancake batter and busied himself with what he knew would be a long morning as the people straggled in to eat.
It was fine. His aunt Michele even kissed him and said her girls would clean up. It was a particular pet peeve of Ricky's that when a cook did not have to clean, he or she would tend to trash the kitchen, so Ricky had long since resolved to never do that to others. Jackie and Susie would have little to clean.
He he tried his best to ignore his lunatic brother Patrick, who, as usual, would cram food into his mouth with his hands and stare at Ricky malevolently as he loudly chewed, open mouthed. Ricky was simply not wired to understand why anyone would purposely do anything that they knew irritated another person. He looked at his brother like he might look at a bizarre insect.
The twins wanted to go to the swimming hole early, so Ricky offered to take them. Of Susie he saw no sign. She was often a late sleeper, but Jackie offered to go to the hole with them all.
Alone on the beach in the cool of the morning, while the little girls splashed in the water, not quite confident swimmers yet, he and Jackie chatted. Ricky filled her in on what River knew, and assured her he was not going to give anything away, so if Susie confronted her, she was to say she had no idea what she was talking about. Jackie pondered this and indicated that she better fill Jasmine in, for Jasmine could blurt stuff out sometimes, yet, she had added, "Jasmine really does not like Susie ever since Susie made a joke about her 'training bra!'"
Ricky then had a dip in the cold water. He lifted and tossed the girls to make them laugh and squeal until they were blue-lipped from the cold and shivering. Then, with peals of laughter, he hoisted them both, one on each hip, and ran with them up and down the beach.
There were no other beachgoers. Most times, on most days, the place was fairly empty until after lunch. It was not until eleven or so that the beach was even in sunlight, so high and tall was the mountain ridge to the east. This coolness was what made the east side of the river such a fine location for summer cabins.
Playing with the little girls was one of the great joys in Ricky's life. They were happily cavorting in the shallows, chasing minnows and looking for "pretties" as the girls called the brighter colored river pebbles, that Ricky almost missed the sleek forms of the young, brown boys across the river slipping into the water and swimming across. At the vanguard, Roan, swimming quickly, and to the rear, little Mason, swimming in a still awkward dog paddle.
He could hear Mason's piping voice calling, "Wait! Wait for me!"
But Roan ignored him and emerged onto the beach in his tight, black, long-thighed Speedo that hid nothing yet appeared a bit more chaste than a "real," racing Speedo.
Roan of course knew both of Ricky's sisters. Always the gentleman, he lavished them with tickles and playful splashing. Mason, who Ricky knew only passingly, was new to the girls, and Roan introduced him. Ricky could see the rapture in their eyes to meet such a cute boy.
Ricky was delighted by Roan's new look. His hair was in a long braid down his back, and had on not one but two beaded necklaces. Mason in his huge, baggy surfing shorts was virtually bedecked in jewelry — a turquoise necklace, and bracelets on both his wrists and ankles.
When Ricky commented about all that, Roan told him, "We have been making jewelry! These are presents! Here! I made this one for you!"
He reached up and undid the tie on one, saying, "See this one? It matches the color and pattern of rattlesnakes! See these beads? They are bone! And these they are wood! And these? They are quartz! Do you like it, Ricky? Here! I will put it on you."
He dashed behind Ricky to do just that, even as Ricky reached up to feel the necklace. "I love it, Roan! Wow! But I have no gift for you."
"That's OK. I know how white people are all fucked up about gifts. You always have to wait. You don't keep stashes of gifts always ready for guests like Indians do. You can make me something or buy me something when you have time. It's OK."
Mason, not to be outshone with regard to gifts, was adorning Ricky's sisters with his brightly colored bracelets. He told them that he would accept kisses in return, and this, they were happy to do.
Roan looked at Ricky with his eyebrows arched. He grinned. "Hint, hint," he whispered out of earshot from the others. He made Ricky laugh.
While the other three played in the shallow water, he asked, "You did not tell Mason about us, did you?"
"No. Should I have?"
"No. Please not."
"That is what I thought."
Ricky then asked, "How is it going with him, Roan."
"Hey," Roan answered stretching his pretty legs out in front of him, "I do not kiss and tell."
"Good lad. He seems happy with you. That's all I need to know, anyway. Look at how he is with the twins! Is that cute or what?"
Mason was an exquisitely beautiful child. He did not so much look native American as Middle Eastern. Syrian, perhaps. Ricky recalled that Roan had said his mother's family was from Pakistan. That would explain it. He was strong and well formed. His hair was as Roan said, "So black it was blue." He had big, pretty eyes and a slender, effeminate face.
Ricky felt no more attraction to him than he did his little sisters. He was a year or two younger than Roan, and so within his friend's age range, but not his. His voice had not even begun to change, and he was obviously pre-pubescent. Even his cheeks still had a bit of baby softness.
"That's cute." Roan said this as he cutely rolled his his legs back and forth so his pretty feet banged together.
"You're teaching him how to swim?" Ricky asked, referring to Mason.
"Not really. He doesn't know he doesn't know; he thinks he knows, but he doesn't, so he doesn't listen, so what can you do, you know?"
"Yeah. We have to learn things each our own way. I used to be scared of the water, but my cousin Jackie was diving into those rapids before I could when she was six! I was eight and still afraid of the rapids. Seeing her made me really try harder. But then, Jackie is an amazing athlete. She went to the state championship for age group in gymnastics last year. She may go to the Olympics!"
"Really. She's super cool too. I expect Mason will pick up river swimming soon enough. You say he'll be here a month?"
"Yeah. You wanna come to his birthday? No! I take that back. You have to!"
"Sure. When is it?"
"I forget. I'll ask my mom and have her write it down. No. I'll put it in my phone! I'm not so good with dates and time. My mom and dad say I am always on Indian Time. I say, 'Yes? So what's the problem?' Heh."
Roan was an amusing fellow.
"Ricky changed the topic. "Can you take this necklace off? I want to look at it."
"You really like it, do you?"
"I really like it! But I can undo the knot! I need to tie it myself so my fingers remember."
Roan got behind him again and undid the knot. Ricky examined the necklace more closely. The beads were beautiful, like Roan said of "bone, wood, and quartz," the color of a rattlesnake, buff, gray, dark brown, and dark gray. Very subtle. There were two colors of wood and two colors of bone. Each bead was different. He commented, "These beads are hand made!"
"Yes! Mason brought them. He brought a bunch of stuff for making presents. He does stuff like that. He's really girly that way. I love him! By the end of the day, he will have given everything all his jewelry away. Then he will make more."
Roan's tone changed. "Say, you seem worried about something, Ricky. You keep looking up the path. Are you expecting something or someone? Is something happening?"
Ricky told him how his his cousin Susie had ditched his friend River, and he was expecting some "drama." He told him how he had given River some advice, and he wanted to see how it worked out. Roan wanted more details, but Ricky told him he could not say much more because "that would involve giving away secrets." This was something Roan could understand.
Ricky asked, "Did you finish the sweat house?"
"Not yet. Almost. But Mason and I fixed up our teepee. We lined the bottom with fir boughs so it stays drier, and it's warmer at night. My dad and uncle were doing some 'fire clearance' trimming, so we got a bunch of fir boughs that way. Then we rigged it up so we can raise the sides so it doesn't get so hot in the day. You should come see!"
"I will. Hey! How about right now? The twins can swim across the river. Can they come?"
The twins knew the drill. Ricky would go first and wait on the other side downstream. The girls would dive in higher up. Should the worst occur, Ricky could catch them before they were swept downstream. But both girls swam like little otters, so nothing bad ever happened. Ricky could tell that Mason, while trying not to be obvious about it, was a little nervous about diving in like the girls. He managed, however, to jump in, awkwardly, feet first, yet rather than dog paddle, he did swim underwater. Ricky smiled. The same trick that worked on him also worked on Mason. Boys have their pride, and younger girls outperforming them in any physical feat was not to be!
Roan's teepee was built below their cabin in the trees nearer the river. For such a large structure, it was still hard to see from any distance. It was quite well built, not a "boyish" fort at all, but a genuine piece of indigenous architecture. The "skin" was two layers, a recycled cargo parachute on the inside and a brown polytarp in the outside.
"Where did you get the long poles?" Ricky asked, for such long, straight, slender poles were unusual.
"My dad cut them in Oregon from an overgrown stand of secondary growth," Roan explained. "He does a lot of woodcutting for the tribe, and he does government contracts too. He always knows where to get wood. We trimmed these down with axes to make them narrower at the thick end. I helped! My mom won't let us build a fire in it. She says it's a 'firetrap.' So Mason made these covers for our battery lanterns out of red and gold paper, so it looks like fire! It is beautiful in here at night."
Mason was, at that time, romping around inside the teepee with the twins. Ricky wanted to say hello to Roan's mother, so Roan told Mason to "guard" the girls while he and Ricky went to the house.
After that, Mason suggested they all go see if they could find any ripe blackberries off to the side of the road along the tracks leading to the lower bridge. It was the long way back to the other side of the river. It was still early in the season, but in the sunny places with good groundwater, some succulent berries could be found. It turned out there were not many, but they did find a patch of honeysuckle, which was a new thing to the twins. Roan and Mason showed them how to pluck the small white flowers and suck out the sweet nectar. They admonished them to never pick a patch clean but to always just pick a few here and there "so they grow back."
Then Roan and Mason grew excited to discover the purple flowers of soaproot! They both excitedly — yet carefully — dug this up, revealing the plump, furry tubers so useful for many things, from brushes to soap and glue. Ricky stayed with Mason and the girls while Roan ran back home to give this prize to his mother.
In this way, they wended their way back to Ricky's side of the river, and by then, it was lunchtime. There was no sign of Susie, but the mothers were in their usual places in the kitchen, happily chatting, and already drinking wine. Roan and Mason stayed for lunch.
Ricky's mother and aunt were absolutely convinced that one absolutely could not swim after a meal, for one would get "cramps." Ricky had no idea what "cramps" even were; he was absolutely convinced that they had absolutely no idea what they were talking about, but it was a "rule." At that epoch of his life, though Ricky was a "fuck the rules" kind of guy, he nevertheless promised his mother he would not swim for an hour, but he was going to the swimming hole.
His route took him by River's cabin, but finding no one home, he dropped down to river and the rocks. There, he finally saw River and his big cousin George sunning themselves. There were a few other teenagers whom Ricky greeted. It being a weekend, the place was a little more populated.
River shirtless in his suntanned, slender exquisiteness, did notice his arrival, and he did turn to give him a casual wave.
Good. He's not acting weird. Ricky was fantastically worried about that.
George was sitting in Ricky's favorite spot, so Ricky plopped down next to River, yet kept a bit of distance. George asked him, "How you feeling, Ricky?"
"I had a bit of a headache and I woke up crazy early. I was only drunk once before last summer, you know?"
George laughed. He said, "The days I could get fucked up on six beers are long gone for me bro'. Enjoy it while it lasts. Fucking River puked last night!"
River looked down shyly, then up at Ricky oddly. To George he said, "Man, you didn't have to tell him!"
But Ricky picked up a subtle signal. River still looked up to him and wanted his approval! Much of his nervousness vanished. He asked River then, "So? Susie?"
River smiled darkly. "Yeah. I saw her. I played it kinda like you said, all cazh."
"Cazh," Ricky surmised, was a Southern California saying for "casual."
"Yeah?" he asked, looking out over the swirling water, enjoying the sparkles.
"Yeah. All cool like you said, you know? I told her, 'So I missed you last night.' She said, 'Oh, sorry, I was at my friend Zoe's.' Lying, you know?
"I told her it was a burn, just taking off without saying anything. I didn't accuse her of lying, but then, I did follow your advice, I said, 'You know, Susie? It's not like we are boyfriend and girlfriend, but I did think we were friends, and I can do better than that. I don't need someone who's so casual about promises. I'd really rather not hang with you any more. Sorry.'
"I fucking dumped her!"
"Did she cry?" Ricky asked.
"Yeah. I almost felt sorry for her."
George chortled, "Bitches. Fuck bitches!"
It was, evidently, supposed to be a joke, for George repeated, "Get it? FUCK bitches?"
River and Ricky pretended to laugh.
Ricky sighed. It was all rather anti-climactic. It was just another ordinary day of teenage drama that came to nothing.
Alongside him, River sighed as well. He said, "I miss her. I wish it could have worked out."
"I know, man. She does have a sweet side. And she is a pretty girl! Her mom? My aunt? She's a controlling bitch. Susie might just be 'acting out' in frustration. My mom says stuff like that; anyway, I'm sorry, bro'."
George, ever the fount of clichés, chuckled, "Bro's befo' hoes!"
Things got a bit boring for Ricky then. Roan had his Mason and Ricky did not wish to aggressively pursue River. He returned to his ordinary summer vacation routines.
Usually, when Ricky's father came up near the end of the summer, Ricky would move his camp from the gazebo to the back porch of the Boone family cabin. That summer, he did not wish to do so. He wanted to stay in the gazebo, claiming what in his mind, was "the realm of The Prince." He considered it his legal right, for the central lot was actually owned by his father and not his uncles on the Boone side of the family.
The big tent cabin behind the Boone place was a wooden frame structure. Over the frame was a white tarpaulin of special, waterproof fabric. This went down the sides and had zippered windows in the walls, and these could be rolled up for ventilation. Behind these windows was mosquito netting. One of Ricky's chores was to prepare the tent cabin for occupancy. There were a lot of Boones.
The whole thing had to be hosed down, soaped, scrubbed, and rinsed again, for the white plastic coating tended to get stained by pine pitch. In addition, it all had to be recoated with some stinky silicone stuff every so often.
The inside was always dusty and musty. It to had to be cleaned and all the mattresses aired. Ricky could probably have done the work in a couple of days, but he had a week, so he used the time to take his time and do a fine job. The cabin itself was no problem, one of his aunts had already done her part.
Then there was the ancient long bed pickup with the camper shell that remained at the cabin all year. This was Ricky's favorite part, for he had the keys, and he could drive it locally. He much enjoyed checking all the fluids, airing the tires, washing it, and lately, even making minor repairs. Thus, he had the perfect excuse to take it out for the occasional test drive, and that he did. He knew every secret back road through the whole region. Sometimes he would see a forest ranger and wave at them. He knew them all by name, and they knew him. They knew he did not have a driver's license, and they did not care. They would rather see him driving rather than one of his inebriated relatives. That was, in fact, how his grandfather had persuaded to local station manager to ignore Ricky's use of vehicles on forest service roads.
River was a fairly constant companion during this time, and visits from Roan and Mason were daily occurrences. Ricky had hoped that River might indicate he was interested in a bit of action, but he never did. They never talked about their single dalliance. Ricky was not too bothered by that. He had established to his own satisfaction that a gay boy like him could have friendship with a straight boy like River, and the two could be fine with each other.
There were little things that were different. River tended to not shy away whenever they brushed against each other "accidentally." He would every once in a while kid Ricky when he caught him staring at a cute guy, and Ricky never bothered to hide that aspect of himself with River any more. Ricky would occasionally remark about something he found sexy about River, and River would accept these compliments, yet he would not pursue it.
Ricky decided that he would wait for River to initiate something, but he never did. Ricky could live with that. He let it be.
All during this time, there was an awkward aspect to his family's continued presence. His mom was normally expected to vacate the cabin. There was only "supposed" to be a week-long overlap with the two sister's family's. His mother was wearing out her welcome. Jackie told him. The tradition to have some overlap between him mom and his aunt Michele was an extra week, but that week had come and gone, and his mom was still not leaving.
Things were tense.
She had taken to drinking wine early in the day, but getting sloppy drunk before dinner was out of character.
Patrick was doing his usual mischief, having a tantrum whenever he was asked to help in any way, leaving messes, but worst of all, he had taken up his nastiest habit: He was a practiced and habitual thief. He even got into his aunt Michele's purse, and was busted in this by Ricky because his loud, piggy, eating noises around the side of the cabin revealed him stuffing himself with chocolate.
Ricky had dragged him, screaming, up the stairs to show his mom and aunt how he had chocolate on his hands and face, and more candy stuffed in his pockets. He used his usual lie, saying he had "found" the candy.
Aunt Michele had had enough. Ricky was disgusted with his brother. It was a bad situation already, but Patrick had made it intolerable, shaming the whole family.
So said Jackie, sadly. She had heard her mom and dad discussing that her purse had obviously riffled through. Patrick was crafty enough to not steal all the money, but everyone knew who had done it.
Jackie was only sad for Ricky and the twins. They had acquired lost, faraway expressions. Mary had taken to sucking her thumb in her sleep. Catherine could usually be found at her friend's house, watching television and not playing outside.
Ricky's family was coming apart.
What happened to delay his mother's departure was that his step-dad had hired a lawyer, and he was refusing to leave the house! Ricky's mother had nowhere to go, and, thanks to his stepfather, she had no money. It was impossible for his mother to stay, but it was also impossible for her to leave!
Because she was often drunk, Ricky could not even console her. Drunks, even in Ricky's young experience, could not be consoled. They just went on and on forever and ever like broken record players.
Ricky decided to talk to his uncle Dan about it all.
He went fishing with him and his cousin Danny one evening. When Danny went off to a favorite hole of his to see if he could catch a big old trout he knew to be there, Ricky stayed near his uncle. He did not fish much that evening. He couldn't concentrate. When his uncle sat on a rock to change a fly, Ricky saw his opportunity.
"I know my mom has worn out her welcome."
His uncle just looked at him.
He had a had time holding back his tears. He burst out, "My family is breaking apart! I don't know what to do. I keep trying to console my mom. I keep trying to get her to take action, but she's just, so... apathetic! I don't know what to do!"
His uncle studied him respectfully. "We've been looking into the legal thing. Your step-dad has no ground to stand on. His lawyer is just stalling. It can't last. The family is helping your mom. OK?"
Ricky digested that. "OK. Thanks, uncle Dan. But one last thing?"
Ricky could tell he was getting uncomfortable and impatient, so Ricky said, "You're, like, the only adult in my life whose keeping things in perspective. If I can't talk with you, then I'm screwed!"
His uncle nodded. "I appreciate your talking to me, Ricky, man to man."
He reached over and gave Ricky a gentle touch on his neck and shook him a little bit. It was a tough but affectionately fatherly thing to do.
Then his uncle said, "So are you going to fish or what?"
"I'm going to fish!"
Ricky caught seven fish, but he only ate two by the river, adding the rest to the family freezer. Then, stupid Danny, as they were cleaning their catches did not believe that he had caught seven fish! He actually accused Ricky of lying! He said, "No one eats fish raw!"
It was always that way with that guy. He had even seen Ricky eat his catch raw and then had to go on and on about how "gross" that was.
Ricky kept his temper. But in a low growly voice that he knew intimidated his cousin, he said, "Why would I lie, Danny? I don't even care what you think. Out of respect for your father, I refuse to argue."
Danny shut up then.
Ricky saw his uncle looking at him sharply.
The one bright and brilliant note in this otherwise doleful period came on River's last day.
Ricky had been feeling melancholy enough over his family, but the fact that River was going back to San Bernardino the next morning filled him with another layer of sadness. River had managed to engage the attentions of several girls, but mainly he tended to show them attention only when Susie was around, "rubbing her face in it." He was, like Ricky, a popular guy.
Instead of macking the girls, however, on the last day, River spent all his time with Ricky. They even drove the truck to the store together, then, on a whim, took it out for a further spin way up into the high country to the west. It had been a glorious day of hiking. They had seen a mountain lion. Usually, city people tended to be terrified of mountain lions. River had not been frightened in the least. The lion, whether a he or a she, had stared at them from a ridge for the longest while. River said they had them in the desert near "'Dino," and they'd see them when they were out dirt biking sometimes. Also, they were known to come into town to hunt small pets. He was fairly accustomed to those big cats and considered it an honor to see one.
That night, because knew he would miss it, he told Ricky he wanted to go for one last swim in the dark.
"It'll be fucking cold when we get out, man! We should bring a couple towels each."
River was a little more used to the cold water than when he had first come, Ricky had noticed, but he still tended to shiver until the sun warmed him up. At night, of course, there was no sun.
So they had grabbed towels and met again on the beach.
It was a beautiful, starry night. The Mountain glowed dark purple and pale blue in the distance.
Standing on the beach in the dark, still dressed, River told him, "We'll be leaving super early, Dude. I won't see you again this summer, ya' know? And I just wanted to say 'Thanks.'"
"Yeah. Thanks for the good times. Thanks for the hottest fucking blow job ever. You're gonna be a hard act to follow Bro'. I love you, man."
He hugged Ricky. Warmly and closely.
And then, to Ricky's astonishment, there, in the cool dark by the river, he had kissed him!
It was a dry kiss. The kiss of brothers, but it was a kiss.
"Oh God," Ricky gasped, "Now you've given me a bone-and-a-half!"
River laughed in his cheerful way that Ricky loved so much. He asked him then in that shy way of his, "Dude, can I ask you something?"
"We never talked about it. What happened. You know."
"Yeah. I know. I did not want to make you uncomfortable, River. Were you? Did it weird you out? Are you OK with it?"
"I'm OK. I was a little weirded out. A little, but then I saw you were just the same guy you always were. So that was cool."
River seemed to drift off then. Ricky sensing that River wasn't done, said, "But?"
River looked back at him. Even in the dark he could see a hint of sultryness in his big, brown, pretty eyes. "'But' I actually was kinda hoping you would bring it up again."
"We were drunk, you know."
River smiled lightly. "I don't think that was the cause. I think you got me drunk because you wanted to blow me. You planned it, didn't you?"
"Yes, River, I planned it. I wanted to seduce you. You took a walk on the wild side. After that, it was your call, so I let it be. I was hoping you would bring it up. I was hoping you would initiate something or drop some hint, but you are a shy boy, aren't you?"
"Yes," River said. "I am a shy guy."
"I keep telling you that you should have more confidence. I keep telling you that you are the prize."
"Yes, you keep telling me that."
"Well, I'm not going to initiate it, River. That's your call, but I think you can guess my reaction."
River chuckled. He got the hint. He said, "I could use a bit of trim, bro'. These bitches have not been putting out, and my balls are getting blue."
His heart pounding, Ricky had to fight to keep his voice nonchalant. "Well, it just so happens that I can help you with that, River. You wanna go skinny dipping?"
"It'll be really cold."
"We have towels."
"Someone might see us!"
"You know that flat spot on the other side of the diving block?"
"Well, when we get out with our nutsacks like shriveled little walnuts and our dicks all sucked up into little acorns, we could wrap up in our towels there! If anyone comes down to the hole, we will see them first and just pretend we just got out of the water. How about that?"
"It'll be great! C'mon, River! You wanted some excitement. This is it. Don't be shy. Be bold!"
River laughed. "I'm down!"
It was agreed. They dashed together over to the diving block to undress.
It was a warm night. They stood on the diving block nude, the black, cold waters of his river swirling mysteriously under the winking stars, feeling divine.
Ricky was planning a special treat for River!
"BRRR!" River exclaimed as he hurriedly clambered up the rocks beside the diving blocks. Ricky, below him, had the sweetest view of hard, naked, little rump with his dangling delights between his slender thighs.
As River quickly wrapped himself in a towel, hopping up and down, shivering visibly, Ricky followed. He was cold, but he was not going to show it. Still below him on the one spot he could stand, he told River, "Hand me a towel, huh?"
River did that, and only then did he join him, standing close. Using his big, beach towel, he wrapped both it and his arms around the smaller guy and hugged him to him. He relished the marvelous feel of River's hard, slender body against him, and he felt his cock began to grow. River kept his arms wrapped around him, using his towel to shield himself from skin to skin contact, but he did not shirk away.
There were still two towels unused.
"Sit down on this towel," Ricky told him as he then bent down to arrange it. River moved his feet away for this. Ricky took the other towel and tossed it down a little lower. That was for his knees. He was not going to make the same mistake twice.
Kneeling then, the towel across his back, he moved to part River's thighs before him. River protested, "I'm all shrunk up! I'm embarrassed!"
"Aww! You're cute when you're shy! You won't be shrunk up for long. You ever had your balls sucked? I'll warm you up, River."
A little reluctantly, River let him go down. Ricky got his head between River's cold, wet thighs. He said, "You keep a lookout!"
Then he got busy. Trying to keep from laughing out loud, he did start on River's balls, and they were shrunk up. They were so far sucked up into his body that they almost blended in with his perineum. He could feel the ridge of skin dividing the two sides of his scrotum like a thick cord under his tongue while the skin on either side was as corrugated as a big, fat, peach pit. He wrapped his entire mouth around the whole of Rivers testicles and rocked his head back and forth, sucking them, while working his lower lip against the back part of the scrotum.
River relaxed. He sighed, "Ah, Dude! That feels great!"
Ricky then took that opportunity to give River's asshole a luscious licking, making River gasp again. He tasted delicious. He was immaculately clean there, and pleasantly hairy. It was not a forest there, just a masculine guy. Ricky did not linger long on River's cute ring, but he had always wanted to get at that part of River's body.
He went back to his balls, warming up then. Emerging from their hiding place. "Hello, my lovelies," he told them. "You want to come out and play?"
River, above him, laughed nervously at this silly chatter.
Ricky continued to tongue his balls until he felt River's cock was about half hard, and then he gave that a good licking, using the round and around technique he had developed. He took a few moment to slurp up the river water from his friend's pubes, and he spent a little energy tonguing the exact spot where the top of River's wonderful penis joined his body. This was one of his favorite places on a guy's body. Sex without tasting that part of a dude's cock was hardly sex at all.
He wanted River's cock juicy wet before he sucked it. This too had become part of his usual repertoire.
And suck it he did. But this time he reached down and back with spit wet fingers to work his own hole while he did it. Ricky's cock, was, of course, wholly engorged and required no stimulation. Sucking a dick always made Ricky hard.
Taking a moment, he looked up at moaning River to say, "I love to suck cock, River."
River, acting butch then, commented, "I noticed!"
Ricky used his fingers to pull on River's balls then while he sucked him. He spit on his fingers; in this way he could get a lot of saliva on them to once again stick them in his fuck hole. He slobbered all over River's cock, and once it was fully rigid, he hopped up on River's lap, surprising him, and making him try to protest as he straddled his thighs and sat down on his cock!
It did not quite slip into Ricky's ass as easily as it would have with better lube, but it did go in.
River was pinned, and he balked a little, "Uh! You didn't tell me you were gonna take it in your ass! Oh fuck!"
"Shut up and fuck me, River!" Ricky hissed.
River groaned. Ricky was not all sure he would accept this. It was not River who was doing the fucking, after all, it was Ricky, bottoming from the top, fucking River's cock with his ass.
Wow does his cock feel good!
It tickles Ricky's insides with the forward little bend.
He wraps his arms around River, really holding him, dominating him. He brings his ankles up to hold River's thighs down with his feet between them. The guy can not even much move, so overpowering is the position! He distracts River from any protest he might have by really fucking that cock, using his strong sphincter to grip and squeeze River's dick, jacking him off with his ass as he begins to move up and down, a little faster, a little faster.
Best of all, Ricky's cock is pressed right into River's chest, it even reaches the base of his neck.
That part of it is probably way more gay that River would wish, but it is also way too late for that. He soon has River moaning. He relaxes. And then? He starts to try to grind up into Ricky as he wraps his arms around Ricky's back, accepting this new experience. Feeling this, Ricky moves his feet and ankles off his thighs again and lifts up a bit to give River a little more wiggle room, but he also rocks forward to keep his cock pressed against River's chest as he rubs it up and down against his slender friend's breastplate.
River's cock feels so wonderful inside him!
He drops down again and does not so much go up and down but rock and wiggle River's cute dick within him, stimulating his internal nub so well that he feels his climax rising at the same time River is gushing inside him. The excitement of this brings on Ricky's own finish. He splashes River's neck and chest.
He collapses down onto a moaning sighing boy and kisses his cold, wet hair. They are glued together in a warm, sticky mess.
"Oh! Dude! You came all over me man! Fuck!"
Ricky had to resist the urge to laugh at his tone. The way he complained!
He shut him up by slipping off him and licking up his own come. He felt a little guilty.
"Did I go too far with you, man?" He asked.
"Yeah. You went too far with me!"
"Are you mad?"
River chuckled. "No. Now let go of me. I need to clean up again."
They went for another dip then, cold as it was, and they wiped themselves off with their damp towels before hurriedly dressing, still shivering.
River was very quiet. Ricky thought he might walk off without a word or a backward glance. He even started to, but then he suddenly stopped, turned and walked back to Ricky who had remained standing on the diving block.
He reached up and placed a hand on Ricky's shoulder. He said, "It's OK, man. You got off getting me off. I asked for it, and you gave it to me."
It could be awkward.
Ricky was not sure he would ever see River again. He couldn't leave it on that note, not their last moments together.
"I'm sorry, River," he said. "I think I took advantage of you. You are just so sexy to me. I wanted your cock in me, and you saw what you did for me!"
River looked at him for several seconds in the dark, under the stars by the river. "Don't be sorry," he said. "It was fun. I could have made you stop. You would have stopped, wouldn't you?"
He came nearer. He let himself be hugged, and he let Ricky kiss his head. His last comment was, "You shoulda asked, though."
Ricky did not tell him he was feeling a dribble of his come down one thigh. River would say, "TMI!"
Ricky remained at the river after his friend left. He went for yet another swim alone. As always, the water refreshed his soul. Eventually, he went back to his gazebo to listen to music and play guitar.
He did not see River again that summer.
The situation with his family continued to grow more tense. Ricky's father finally arrived, and there was no love lost between the two sides of the clan. Ricky and Patrick were the common link. His mother, for some reason, decided to not let his dad spend any time with Patrick.
It was an old, long, horrid story. The basic source of the breakup, so Ricky had always heard was that his dad was an "alcoholic who could not keep a job."
Of course, the deep, dark secret was that his father had cheated on his mother.
With another man.
He had found this out from his grandfather, who finally pitied him enough to tell him the truth about his father being gay.
Ricky could understand the family's anger. He could not understand the eternally burning fire of unforgiveness and hate.
Probably, Ricky mused, the reason he had denied his own nature for so long was because he feared that same kind of hate. He knew that his father had never touched either him or Patrick in any way other than the ways a father might touch his sons. He well remembered the social workers asking leading questions after the divorce, and he had repudiated their insinuations. But Patrick? Who knew what that kid would say? He was a pathological liar. He would tell anyone what he thought they wanted to hear. He would say anything to get people to feel sorry for him.
So there was a mystery.
His mother had the right to refuse visitation. She had full custody of both Patrick and Ricky. His father had long ago "signed a paper." He had told Ricky, much later, that he thought he was doing the right thing. He had thought he was doing what was best for him and Patrick, but the real reason, Ricky found out, was that his mom wanted to force his step-dad to take responsibility for them.
The ploy had not worked. Ricky had exchanged a dysfunctional — but kind — father for a dysfunctional and cruel stranger.
His dad had straightened up. He got off the booze. He returned to college and finished his degree. He'd started making money with his photography. After not seeing them for years, he had finally reached out to Ricky and Patrick.
Ricky's mom had consented to an occasional visit. Then these visits had become fairly regular. "Fairly," because his father travelled a lot.
And the funny thing was that Patrick really did not act out when they were with their father. His dad could handle Patrick, and he and Patrick did not fight. His dad would make Patrick practice proper table manners. He had to chew with his mouth closed when he chewed, and he would not let him lean over his plate and shovel food in with his hands.
His mom never quite believed Ricky when he told her this. She seemed to think that Patrick was just fundamentally broken, and everyone should just accommodate his "idiosyncrasies." His father said that Patrick was "autistic," whatever that was, but there were ways to handle him.
In Ricky's opinion, the real bad blood had its source in his Aunt Michele. She truly despised his father. She was a grudge holder. Ricky had no idea what the issue was. No one ever told him. His father would just say, "She never liked me, Ricky. I'm sorry."
When Ricky confronted his mother about her refusal to let Patrick stay with their father, even though she had earlier agreed, he went so far as to suggest that she was being selfish, but she had dismissed him as being "petulant."
Then, suddenly, his mom consented to let Patrick stay with his father!
Ricky did not know if his uncle Dan had talked to his aunt Michele who had talked with his mother. No one told him. His mom would not say why.
Things smoothed out a little then.
A few days later, his mom told him that she and the girls were going home. His step-dad, she told him, after a visit from a deputy sheriff, had "vacated the premises!"
Just like that. A universe of torment, then, poof! Gone!
After that, for a few days, it was just him, his father, and Patrick. They generally stayed away from the rest of the clan. Only Jackie would come visit.
However, Ricky made a point of kissing his aunt and greeting his cousins at least once a day. His uncle Dan, in return, always made a point of inviting Ricky fishing.
But most of the time, he was with his dad and Patrick. They had fun. They went sailing on the lake by the mountain. They often went to the shooting range up on the ridge to the west. Patrick was learning. Sort of. Getting him to never, never, never allow the barrel of a weapon to pass across the front of anything but a target was a hard sell with him. He persisted in the belief that not ALL weapons were loaded, cocked, and had the safety off. So every time he goofed, his dad would just take his BB gun away from him for a few minutes. He would say, "Hand over your weapon."
When Patrick inevitably protested, his father would repeat the command. He would only explain why once Patrick had relinquished his BB gun. It only took a few times before Patrick was truly attempting to move the barrel up and over every time he moved across a non-target. Ricky, however, never, ever, let Patrick get behind him if he had his BB gun, and he would always make sure that Patrick was far to the rear or to the side if he was, himself, shooting.
Ricky had his own 22 rifle that his dad kept for him. It was great to be able to finally get some practice in again, even though shooting with his brother around was a nerve wracking experience. At first, he even balked, "No Dad. I'm sorry, but I can't shoot if he has a gun. I have to keep an eye on him."
His dad had only gently said, "I'm keeping an eye on him, Ricky."
They had stared at each other. His father had a hand on Patrick's shoulder, and Patrick had his BB gun pointed down. Ricky knew it was not cocked, was unloaded, and had the safety on. He decided that maybe he did not need to be such an asshole to Patrick.
Besides, Ricky thought, getting shot by a BB is not so bad anyway.
It took an hour or so of shooting before Ricky was finally able to recover his "shooting Zen." Soon, his shot groups were tighter than his father's. His dad was never one for effusive praise, but he did comment, "Hmmm. I think I may need to have the prescription for my glasses checked." He smiled and winked at Ricky when he said that.
It was all the acknowledgement Ricky needed. After that, he even helped Patrick, and, amazingly, Patrick let him.
They ate in restaurants all the time, which Ricky and Patrick both loved. Ricky could always order as much as he wanted of anything. They played golf, which bored Patrick, but enthralled Ricky, recognizing it a meditative sport, requiring excellent calm of mind and purity of will. They rode mini go-karts, which Patrick loved and bored Ricky because they were so slow. They went to movies — they could always find some movie that they all enjoyed.
Ricky's dad "spoiled" them, and they loved it.
Ricky knew that his father genuinely enjoyed his time with them. It was a fantastic relief from his step-dad who did not even pretend to like them unless someone he was trying to impress was watching.
Also, to Ricky's satisfaction, his father was a working fool. He spent hours and hours on the computer working with his images. He was always emailing and calling his clients. He was constantly managing his vast portfolio. With his father also came internet access; he had to have it for work, and, "Damn the year long contract," for, he said, "I lose more money in one day than a year costs."
Best, his father agreed he should have his own cell phone and computer. This was huge! He could finally call and text all his friends. He would no longer be the one weird kid without a cell phone. Ricky wanted an iPhone and a Mac. His dad used those, so Ricky knew he liked them. But his dad only told him he would get him something of quality, saying, "It's cheaper in the long run." He'd get a cool phone and he'd get an unlimited plan so Ricky could stay in touch with his friends and always have internet. His father had seen him looking up anything and everything, and he approved of the way he used the internet for knowledge and communication, not entertainment.
Mainly, that is!
As far as the Mac went, he had one Ricky could have! It was an "old" one of his. He would have "James" bring it up.
James. That was his dad's new boyfriend!
His arrival was no problem, but with James came two problems.
The first form of the trouble came in the form of Jason, James' thirteen year-old cunt of a son, and with him came the second nightmare, Collin, Ricky's old buddy from home.
Ricky was glad for his dad. James was all right, but Jason proved to be, in Ricky's opinion, a waste of oxygen. And Collin?
Collin was another story. A long one. One could write a whole book about Collin.
Questions? Comments? Critiques? Don't be shy. Let me know. All feedback is useful. Your letters have been helpful and encouraging. Heck, I'll even write you back. I like to do that.
A great resource like Nifty costs money to run, and maintaining the archive is a lot of work. Your donations help. Feel free to throw a gift of change into this wonderful fountain. http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html