By Carson Carruthers
The morning after skinny-dipping in the pond started as usual. I kiss Robert and slip out of bed and go to the bathroom. When I came back he and Carl were still sleeping cuddled together, one's arms around the other. I was amazed at how much they looked alike and were yet so different, not only in age but in the way they talked and walked -their mannerism were totally different. Robert was as the expression goes - laid back. He took everything in stride as it came along. Carl was just like he walked -- too quick and the then had to wait for everyone else to catch up. He was sharp when it came to thinking I will give him that. I never expected some jock farm boy, who by the way looked the part from head to toe, would be so logical and quick thinking. I suppose that had come from living with his Uncle Spencer, who had the reputation of being a sharp cookie and a wheeler-dealer. I know he made money hand over fist. He drove a new Cadillac every year and had an office in the bank. I had often heard my father talk about Spencer Moore being an astute businessman. That in my father's word would mean that he was sharp. Well, I sat on the side of the bed and started tickling the bottom of Robert's feet. Then I tickled behind his knees. I guess it finally got to his brain through his sleep because he reached behind himself and slapped really hard hitting my arm. I let out a scream. They both woke up then. I was rubbing my arm. "What's the matter?" Robert asked.
"You just belted me." I answered.
"Oh, no, you were the mosquito."
"What the hell are you guys talking about?" Carl asked rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
"Robert doesn't love me anymore. He hit me." I said in a pouty voice.
"What were you doing?" Robert asked me.
"Just this," I said and started tickling him again.
" No wonder you got swatted. I thought that you were a mosquito that I was dreaming about." Robert pulled me to him and kissed me. He said, "That's you. A pesky old mosquito"
For the next few years, that was my name "Skeeter."
It would get to the point that both Robert and Carl forgot why I was ever called Skeeter but they remembered that they had given me the name. That was not all I got that morning. Robert had never had anal sex with me. I had never had anal sex with anyone and was scared to death. The night before when Carl had eaten my ass out was the closest anyone had ever been to my asshole. Not even a doctor had examined it. We went down and had breakfast. Carl and Robert had both been talking so that I could not hear what was going on. Mom Stanley decided that she had dinner far enough along that she could go to Sunday school and Church. Mr. Stanley was going with her. She wanted us to go, but Robert told her that we did not have shirts and ties. That part was true. He said that it would not be right to leave two guest alone, so he would sacrifice going to church as a social duty. I swear that I thought I was going to break up when he said the thing about his social duty. Anyway we went back upstairs and in less than twenty minutes we heard the car leave. We knew that they would be gone for at least two hours. They were Methodist, so they knew that they would be back in time for lunch. I had heard friend talk about going to the Baptist Church where it had been as late as two o'clock in the afternoon before the preacher stopped preaching. He told me that you could hear a lot a bellies groaning and rumbling in the congregation. They got rid of that preacher right away.
We were all sitting around on Robert's bed. He was playing something on his radio. Carl was stretched out in nothing but a pair of jeans. He had not brought clothes to change. I had on a pair of shorts and a tee shirt. Robert had on jeans and no shirt. I lay back on the bed. Robert came over and kneeled between my legs. I thought to myself that this boy never gets enough. Robert pulled my shorts down around my ankles. He rubbed my cock through my white cotton briefs. I had not graduated to boxers or no shorts like he and Carl. I felt his finger as he entered my ass. I was already hard, but my dick seems to try and get even harder. That is a weird feeling and unless you have had it happen it is hard to explain to someone else. He scratched the area between the back of my balls and my asshole with his thumbnail. I was feeling so good. When Carl saw what he was doing he started, lightly at first, and then with more determination to pinch and twist my nipples. He held me up and removed my tee shirt. Then he laid me back with my head in his lap. His randy cock hard in his jeans was pushed against the side of my face. They had me moaning. For the first time since we had been together I could moan or scream as loudly as I wanted. There was no one in the house but us. Robert pushed my legs back and Carl held them. Robert with lots of saliva started wetting my crack and hole with his spit. His tongue was invading my tightly little muscle. I gradually gave in and allowed him to enter me. All this time both he and Carl were cooing to me to relax. No one is gong to hurt me. All this time I was sure that Stanley was going to plow into me and split my young ass into two sections. The tissues in my ass would not be able to stand up to his assault. I was sure of that. If nothing else, I would bleed to death. I would be too embarrassed to go to the doctor to have anything done. Death. Maybe I was being a little too melodramatic since he had three fingers and his thumb in my hole now and nothing seems to have torn. Rick was smiling encouragingly as he fucked me with his fingers. "Wait. You will like Stanley better since he has no nails to scrape you with." He had put what seemed most of a jar of Vaseline into my bowels. His fingers were moving in and out with ease. I thought that was not so bad and was enjoying the pressure that he was putting on my prostate although I did not at the time know what to call it. It felt good. Then Carl became very aggressive with me. He pulled both my tits until I was screaming. Then he slapped me on first one check and then the other with his rampant cock. It was like getting hit with a sock filled with hard sand or rocks. I was trying to grab him to make him stop when I reared up on my elbows trying to throw him from my chest and realized that while Carl had distracted me Robert had pushed his greased cock all the way into my ass. I immediately tense up, but with an eight inch cock all the way in, there is little more that token protest one can make by becoming tense. Carl placed his cock in my mouth and started pumping in an out. I knew that he was turned on big time since his cock was already pulsing and red-hot. I only took a couple of turns, and he emptied his load down my eager throat. I could taste his sweet cum. Last night I had not noticed the taste of his cum. Like sucking on his nipple gave a sweet flavor, so did his cum have that same taste of sweetness. Rick's cum was not sweet. It was sometimes nutty and maybe even almond tasting, but it was not sweet. Rick's cum was like a lot of men's I would discover later. The taste of his cum depended on what he had eaten or drunk. Finally, I could concentrate on getting fucked. It thought to myself that it was a strange way to say something as intensely exciting and pleasurable for two people and then the word should be something that people bantered around so easily. I was constantly hearing "fuck this" or "fuck that" at school. There was one kid who had moved there from New Jersey and every other word he said was, "fuckinga." Carl had cleaned his cock off in the bathroom and come back to lie beside me. He held me in his strong arms as I trashed from side to side enjoying the pounding eight-inch monster that was ramming my prostate. I felt just so close to shooting my lode. Every time that I reached for my dick to give myself the relief I so disparately wanted. Needed. Had to have. Carl would pull my hand away. Robert was sweating as he did all the work of pushing his tool in and out of my tight ass. I was now trying to hold him in with the muscles in my bowels. He was struggling to free himself only to drive it back into me. He was bottoming out with every plunge. I would know that I had been fucked when he was finished. There was love and lust and sex in his eyes, and he looked at me. He loomed over me gigantic. I felt so thin and small and vulnerable under this boy-man. He was loving me. He was not just fucking me. This was my partner for life who was screwing me. Taking what was his and marking his territory and mate. He was gentle. If he hurt me I was so distracted by Carl that I did not know it. Even if he did hurt me, the fact that he had planned so that I would be distracted and relaxed to avoid my pain was a statement of his affection and care and love. I could have asked for no one better. He was hitting my prostate again and again. I could feel my own impending orgasm. Carl still would not let me touch my own cock. I thought that he was holding me back for Robert's sake but that was not it. I could tell that Robert was nearly ready even with all the sex we had last night. I knew that I was. He then started to fuck me with short hard stabbing strokes. The head of his cock was plowing into that spot. All I could think of was that I was going to cum. I wanted to cum. I kept trying to get my hand to my cock and Carl held me back and then it happened. I started shooting off. At first I was so surprised, I had cum without touching my cock or anyone or anything touching it for that matter that I almost stopped cumming. Then I shot. Great long looping splats of cum were landing on my stomach and chest. It was on Robert chest and face. There was cum on Carl's hairy arms as he held me. Robert had shot his load at the same time. I was glad that we had cum together. He leaned in and kissed me. I said, "Thank you. I love you."
"I love you, too, little man." And he kissed me on the lips.
He and Carl between the two of them lifted me bodily from the bed and carried me to the bathroom. Carl let me down onto the toilet easily as Robert started the water in the shower. Most homes only had bathtubs without showers, but Robert had talked his father into having one installed when they had to have the bathroom redone about a year before. It was a luxury to stand under the cascading water and feel the sting of the water on my skin. I checked there was no blood. Everything that had come out was cum and what was normal. Robert got into the shower with me and scrubbed my back paying special attention to my butt. We were still telling each other how much we loved each other and drying each other off when we heard the car pull in the drive way. Carl had gotten in the shower when we got out. He rushed his cleaning. We were all out, dried and dressed before Mom Stanley called up the stairs that they were home and that she would have dinner ready in about twenty minutes. I must say there were three smiling happy boys who came down to lunch that Sunday.
Mr. Stanley was sitting in the living room reading the Sunday Greenville News. He had turned the television on which was the first time that I had seen it on since I had been there. People did not have time in this family to be watching television I discovered. It was a floor model that sat directly on the other side of the room from his recliner. I guess every man has his kingdom. Every man's home is his castle. That recliner was his throne. Rick and Carl sprawled on the sofa to watch the television. I went onto the kitchen to see if I could help Mom Stanley. I had really gotten to like her and the whole family over the past few days. It seemed much longer than just a weekend. Mom Stanley was pulling stuff from the refrigerator that she had prepared before church. There was another bowl of jello cubes. She told me how much Robert liked his jello. She told me that there was not a flavor that he did not like. She had made cole slaw again. Then another platter with sliced tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, and green onions. She then pulled a bowl out with sliced cucumber and onions in vinegar. She said that they were called refrigerator pickles. I was running back and forth to the dinning room table putting everything on pads so that the cold bowls would not sweat on the tables. I could see Carl, Robert and Mr. Stanley talking through the yellowed curtain on the French doors that separated the dinning and living rooms. They were laughing. I thought it was so nice that boys could relate to their fathers. Mine was so old I never talked with him other than to discuss politics or school with him at the dinner table. My father had never touched me in my life. Mr. Stanley was a quiet man, but I had seen him kiss his wife and I had seen him swat Robert on the butt playfully. Those were signs of affection that I never had, and I felt cheated.
When I got back from the dinning room, she was dishing up the food from the stove. There were biscuits that had been kept warm in the oven and covered with clean dishtowels. A pot roast with potatoes, carrots and onions. Then a huge bowl filled with green beans that had been cooked with fat back. The fat back had been scored so that the flavor could permeate the pot of beans easily. The platter with the roast and vegetable was loaded, and it was heavy for me. I was really afraid that I might drop it. I knew that would be my death by the hands of those hungry boys sitting in the living room if I did. I will say that this family ate and ate well. The cooking was good. I was afraid that when the time came to take Robert away from here that he would not leave because of his mother's cooking. That is when I started trying to learn to cook. Trying. That is the word. I went back to help get the last dishes for the table. I could feel a tingle in my ass. I may have been walking a little funny. I knew I had been fucked. "Is something wrong, Rick," Mom Stanley asked with concern in her voice.
"No, Mam', things are as right as can be." I knew there was a shit-eating grin on my face. She just looked at me and shook her head. I think she suspected what had happened to me.
That afternoon after we had done the dishes, Robert, Carl and I lay out in the backyard on the grass under the Chinaberry tree. It was hot. None of us had on shirts. Robert found a pair of shorts for himself and one for Carl. None of us had on underwear. The less clothes in this heat the better. We talked about what had happened the night before with Tommy and Trevor. It was like we had psychically called them because while we were still talking about them they showed up on their bicycles. An old beat up truck pulled in the driveway. It was Alex with him was Trey and a boy I had seen at school but was another one like Carl that I had no classes with. I knew that he was on the football team. They came on around to the back yard. Now we were all sitting around on the picnic table and some on the benches. Alex introduced everyone to George. George was the right end on the team. I always thought the names of the positions on the football team were some sort of sex designation. In this case George Granger should have been the tight end. Alex let everyone know right away that although George did not live on the street he was one of the gang. George was good looking. He was slightly heavier than Alex but was all muscles. He had light brown hair. Maybe five ten but not as tall as Robert. He had hazel eyes. There was not a lot about him that was not pretty average but when it was put together with sparkling even white teeth and a grin, he was gorgeous.
The main topic of conversation that afternoon was not sex. It was not the gang involved in an orgy. I am sure that had we been anywhere else that afternoon I would have been able to describe George's cock in detail with the rest of his description, but we were in the Stanley backyard. No. The conversation was about Asa. That afternoon the attack plan and the groundwork were laid for what was to be a major project of the Elm Street Queers - Operation Asa. We were all still teenagers. We might be having sex or even adult sex, but we still watched "I Spy" and Maxwell Smart. We may love each other and plan on staying together for the rest of our lives like Robert, and me but we were still kids. We still had fun. We enjoyed having fun. Although we were to get into some really serious psychological areas of Asa and our own minds, we were going about it in a playful manner. We had a code word. Everyone was sworn to secrecy. There was talk about brainwashing. The Chinese. The torture in POW camps. Breaking a man. Psychological profiles. Someone had read an article in Time magazine about subliminal teaching and how it could be used. Who had a tape recorder? Carl. Good. Get Will and Phil to help you.
The shade from the Chinaberry tree was longer now and the heat seemed less intense. Mr. Stanley came to the backdoor. "I hate to run you boys off, but if we are going to get Carl home before dark so that he can do his chores we better get going." The screen door slammed shut behind him as he went in the house not waiting for any sort of answer. Everyone started saying good-bye. George offered me a ride home in his old truck. I thought about it, but I wanted to stay with Robert as long as I could. Robert said that I could ride with them and then they would drop me off at my house unless I wanted to stay another night. I said that I had better go home before I was disowned. George , Trey and Alex , all my age, took off in the truck. Trevor and Tommy took off on their bikes. I was pretty well in the shadows by the picnic table, but Robert and Carl led me behind the old garage. Carl said, " I just wanted to say good bye, Skeeter." He took me into his arms and locked his lips onto mine. His tongue was everywhere. It was great. "We have to keep this in the family," he said as he rubbed my ass.
"Carl, thanks for this morning. I'm not sure that I appreciated it then but the distraction was appreciated later once I got to think about it. You both were looking out for me. You did not let me get there and then decide to be gentle, you planned it ahead. I appreciate it." I kissed him on the cheek.
Then Robert took me in his arms. "We probably are not going to get a chance to say good-bye with the folk in the car, so... . " and we kissed.
All this was in a tender twilight moment. We came from behind the garage with semi-hard cocks in our shorts. I knew that I had to get some clothes on before going home. My poor mother would be socked to see me without a shirt, socks and shoes. She might faint if she found out that I did not have any underwear on. I was chuckling to myself as I put on a clean tee shirt and started getting my clothes together. "No, don't take those." Robert took the dirty clothes that were in my hand and threw them back on the closet floor. "I have to wash clothes tomorrow anyway. I'll wash yours and hang them up. That way you will always have some clothes here if you need them." I gave into him.
It was cool riding in the car with the windows open. Mr. and Mrs. Stanley in the front seat. Robert sat behind his father with me in the middle and Carl on the side behind Mrs. Stanley. Robert kept playing with my leg. Carl was really quiet like something was bothering him on the way back to his place. When we got there, Mr. and Mrs. Moore came out. I had never seen Carl's father to know who he was, but as soon as I saw him I recognized him. I had seen him in town several times. I thought that he was one of the finest older men that I had ever seen. He and Spencer looked a lot alike . I mean they were brothers. Carl's father was older though and had that gray hair around his temples and a bunch of graying hair could be seen at the opened collar of his shirt. I had to stop staring at him. Carl did not speak to his father but rather told us that he had stuff to do and would catch us later. He went in the house. We were all sitting on the porch. Mrs. Moore had gotten us glasses of cold iced tea. Carl came back wearing bib overall and boots. No shirt. I was ready to cum right there. There was nothing under those bib overalls and I knew it. He sort of waved when he went by but still did not say anything. We left as soon as we finished our iced tea.
Everyone was pretty subdued on the way home. I still had not figured out just what was wrong. Finally, Robert said to his parents in the front seat. "It does not look like it is any better."
"No, but what can I do? They are both my brothers. If I take sides then it will be just like Carl and his father." Mrs. Stanley said. "I cannot have either one of them not talking to me. If it were not for me, I am not sure how they could get anything done since one or the other has to send messages through me constantly. It is not as bad as it was since they finally have lawyers splitting everything up."
I was wondering what they were talking about. Robert patted my hand. " Family."
"Well, I guess you might as well know. Uncle Spence and Uncle Bo, Carl's father, had a fight. Uncle Bo kicked Uncle Spencer off the farm. This was almost a year ago. Carl found out what it was about and will not speak to his father. We still do not know what it was about. It seems that only Carl and the two brothers know. They do not even know how Carl knows. It is something strange. Anyway. Carl took Uncle Spencer's side and since then Uncle Bo and Carl have not spoken a word. They do the work. Carl does his and Uncle Bo does his. My aunt of course loves Carl but she loves her husband so I guess you would say she is on his side. She has to take messages back and forth between the two of them like my mother does between her brothers. The family has its secrets and this is one of them. When I was out there picking beans, you would have never known that there was anything wrong. It was just like they never were around each other that much and they worked in different areas of the farm. Weird."
"Rick, we have really enjoyed your staying for the weekend. You come by any time you want to and plan on staying over again next weekend. You bring some clothes so that you can go to church with us on Sunday." We had pulled into the drive and Mrs. Stanley had gotten out so that I could push the seat forward and get out myself. I sort of half hugged Robert but he knew what I meant. Then Mrs. Stanley did hug me. It felt so good. My mother had never hugged me much and since she retired she had not hugged me at all. I hugged her back. There was a tear in my eye. I loved Robert so. He was a part of her. I had to love her. I did I loved this whole family even with its secrets. I stood on the porch and watched then pull away. Robert waving out the back window until I could no longer see him.
I went in. Nothing had changed. The house was the same tidy self. There was a note on the kitchen table saying that my parent had gone to Greenville to visit a friend in the hospital. They would probably have dinner there. If I wanted something there was sandwich meat and bread for sandwiches. I thought about all the wonderful food that I had eaten at the Stanley over the weekend. I made a couple of sandwiches and got a Pepsi from the refrigerator. Then I did something that I had never done in my life. I took the food to my room to eat. I found that old Time magazine and read the article about Chinese brainwashing. Operation Asa was to take place right after the Fourth of July and that only left two weeks to get everything ready. I would call Robert and meet him at the library. I ate. It was the best sandwich I had ever had in the house where I had lived for these past sixteen years. Never. I mean for real. I had never eaten anything anyplace other than the kitchen or the dinning room. If my mother knew that I had food in my room, she would probably have a stroke. I knew that I had to eat and then get the evidence. Can you believe that a sixteen year old would look at a plate and glass - both mpty-as being evidence of a crime. That I had done. I had committed the crime of unconventionality. If they ever found out that I had a boyfriend, it would probably be considered the crime of the century. The meat was some sort of jelled beef. It was brown in color and spicy. I had put a lot of Duke's mayonnaise on it. Southern Sandwich Bread. I'd even go north for Southern Bread. That commercial always made me grin. I lay the magazine on my desk and to keep peace in the family and the emergency room empty, I took my plate and glass back to the kitchen where I proceeded to wash, dry and put them back into the cabinet. I read some, but was restless and could not go to sleep. I kept thinking about Robert. There was a lot to think about.
It was cool in my room. I was down to my underwear. I thought that I might as well take that off too. I did and my small cock and balls were swinging back and forth as I walked across the room. I turned the lamp by my bed off. I opened the curtains and then raised the window all the way. My door was shut and latched. I had started doing that to be safe, not that either of my parents would open the door without knocking. I do not remember either of them ever coming in my room, at least not when I was there. I sat and looked out at the night sky. It was pretty. I had really never missed having a regular family until this weekend after being with the Stanleys. It was nice to have people come by. I would never think of having people just drop in. Even my mother and father's relatives did not just drop in. No one had ever spent the night with me. Asa was the last person who had been to the house until Robert came in the other day when I was getting more clothes. I played back the movies of the weekend in my mind. I thought about the wonderful sex we had had. I thought about what had happened this morning. I had been a virgin until then. At least as virgin as a guy can get I guess. Now I really did belong to Robert. I was watching the clouds move across the sky. They looked like they were bouncing into the moon. Thinking about how Carl had distracted me this morning and how easily Robert had slid that huge cock of his into my ass, my dick was pushing hard against the wood of the windowsill. I humped my dick against the rounded wood of the sill. I thought that I better stop that. It would be hard to explain how I got a splinter in my cock. My hand would be safer. The images of Robert over me. His look into my eyes, my soul. The feeling of being possessed by him came anew as my hand moved up and down my cock. My other hand was fondling my balls. I rubbed my nipples and then fingered my asshole. It was still sore. It was a good sore. Thinking about the Robert filling it full with his normous cock. Having Carl who was so handsome holding me, his sweat smelling sweet as I pressed my face into his armpit. All these pictures flashing through my mind. The memory of the feeling of his cock pushing into my ass and hitting that spot. Making me cum without even touching my cock. My hand going faster and faster. I cupped my hand in front of my cock to catch my cum. I could not allow it to spill on the floor. My cum exploded. It shot over my hand. Oh shit. I would have to find it somehow in the dark. I just had a wonderful orgasm and all I could think of was where it had landed and how I was going to clean it up.
I was frantically looking for the wet spot. Why I did not cut on the lamp and find it I have no idea. My parents still were not home. I had gone to my bathroom and gotten a handful of toilet tissue. I could not find the spot of cum. I was on my hand and knees feeling of the floor. I started to cry. First, just a sob. Then the tears started running down my face. The frustration of looking for a spot became the symbol of the frustration of my entire life living as I had lived. The frustration of not having freedom to do what and when and how I wanted. I did not want independence. I only wanted not to have to worry that a spot of cum had landed somewhere on the floor. I did not cum much. It was a small insignificant spot of cum, but it was not the spot of cum. It was the whole thing of being orderly, and neat and everything in it own place. It was my old mother and my old father being grandparents, not parents, not even good grandparents. They might love me, but it was with all sorts of conditions. One of the conditions was that I did not splatter cum on the floor. I did not eat in my room. I made sure that my bed was made. I hate it. I hated all of it. Why could I not have a normal family like Robert? Why could I not have a mother that hugged me like Mom Stanley did? I lay with my face in the pillow and bawled. I cried for all the things that I had endured for the past sixteen years and for all the things that I suddenly realized that I had missed in those sixteen years. Finally, I forgot about the cum. The tears subsided. I feel asleep.