CHAPTER ELEVEN

I was dragging when I woke up Saturday morning. I felt totally wiped out as I stumbled naked onto the landing.

Entering the warm, soft sunlight streaming through the cathedral windows, I grabbed the banister and took the first step. I stopped in mid-step – and simply gawked at the rich fall tapestry that spread out before me beyond the window.

I instantly forgot about being tired. I soaked in the warmth of the sun and was reborn. As far as I could see down Taylor Mountain and up the one across from me was a riot of color. I knew I was home. I knew I was where I was supposed to be. I sat down on the top step and lost myself in the panorama before me.

My stomach finally growled to pull me back to reality. I took the stairs two at a time down to the kitchen. I was one boy who needed a fix of French roast, mountain-brewed caffeine. Without it, I couldn't even contemplate nature.

With mug in hand, I let myself out onto the verandah and found a place where the sunlight would warm me.

I sat in the sun, my feet hoisted onto the railing and sipped the coffee. Caffeine burnt through the webs that always built up in the corridors of my mind during the night. And I began to grapple with what was now reality for me.

I had found out last night that the blond whom I'd thought of as a dream was real. He'd proved to me convincingly that I was both queer and what Paul and his friends would call a bottom. He hadn't been a dream and his pecker was as real as today was.

I'd wanted it in my ass last night and I wanted it there this morning. That was reality. It didn't matter how I'd come to that point or, even, if I'd somehow been blocking it out of my mind all these years.

The bastard had sure been able to speak whole sentencess and keep his mouth closed when he was doing it. He'd said that he was using telepathy. That was impossible on the face of it. Only, the blond had been forming those whole sentences without using his mouth and I'd been hearing them.

I decided to put aside my disbelief for a while. I'd accept telepathy as a working hypothesis until a better one came along.

That still left me with who he was. He'd said he was my great-grandfather. A guy who maybe was twenty, claiming to be a man over a hundred. My first instinct said it wasn't possible but, if I was going to accept fully operational telepathy as a working hypothesis, I sort of had to accept him for what he said he was.

I shuddered at that. Me riding my great-granddaddy's dick didn't feel right at all. It was incest. Only, I hadn't thought twice when Henry proved to be sexually available, and he was my cousin. And he was about as far removed from me as the blond was.

Sipping at the coffee, I faced up to what bothered me most about the question of who he was really was just the age factor – or lack of it. I just did not want to get it on with a wizened, old man of a hundred. I had no problem with spreading wide for a good-looking blond of twenty.

A man of a hundred years just wasn't going to look like a twenty year old. He wasn't going to have the stamina to keep fucking through the whole night. Shit! I didn't have it and I was only twenty-six.

Somehow, if the hypothesis was going to work, the blond had found the fountain of youth. And he'd found something even better than Viagra. Both stood out as glaring impossibilities. I wasn't a medical doctor or researcher, but I knew enough that neither chemistry nor surgery had found the secrets he claimed as his own.

Reason demanded that he not be my great-grandfather, regardless of what he said and regardless of the fact that it worked well in tandem with his telepathy. I was willing to admit that he was a close cousin, however. It'd take the family's gene pool to create a look-alike to the first Sam Adams Taylor – and the blond definitely looked like my great-grandfather.

I put my problem with his being who he said he was aside. I didn't really accept the hypothesis based on him being the first Sam, but I didn't reject it out-of-hand, no matter how improbable it was. I figured I'd drive around the mountain this afternoon and pick old Euston Taylor's brain for more reasons to accept it as a working hypothesis or to reject it.

There were a whole lot of things to ask the old man about this second weekend that I'd returned to the family. I just hoped that I could get some sense out of him, instead of the confusion I'd gotten from Henry yesterday. I needed to get a grip on what was going on in me and around me up here on the mountain.

I got up and poured another mug of coffee. Returned to my chair in the warm sun, I settled back in to mulling things over.

Now that I thought of it, so much of the reality of Taylor Mountain didn't seem right.

Henry and then the blond had told me that every male up here engaged in homosexual activity – at least as teenagers. I could accept one out of ten – but all of them?

They'd both said that the blond guy was doing the honors on these kids, too – at least, their first time. That sounded awfully like pedophilia to me. But he'd fucked me for three nights now, and I sure didn't look like some little kid, not even a twink.

If he was going around fucking all of the sons, I didn't doubt in the world that their daddies wouldn't be scouring the mountainside with pitchforks in hand. Only, there sure hadn't seemed to be any sense of vigilante-ism at the longhouse last Saturday. The menfolk stood around talking, the women set out food, and the kids played. Pretty normal for 2001, I thought – relaxed, comfortable, laid back.

Then, there was what Ralph and Janet had been saying last Saturday before the council meeting. The fucking foundation owned everything. It might be a co-operative, but it sure wasn't an equal one.

True, housing, education, medical care – everything apparently – was taken care of on an equal basis. Each family had a portfolio of stocks and bonds – I knew that for a fact, I managed those portfolios. But I was getting the impression that, if they were going to live on Taylor Mountain, they toed the foundation's line.

Those were only the beginning areas I wanted some answers to. I just hoped that old Mr. Euston would give me those answers.

I was beginning to think I understood why dad had kept quiet about his family to me. And why he only came up to the mountain once a month. Dad had been one of the most loving men I could imagine, but it was all cerebral – a mental gentleness and acceptance that didn't extend to touching and feeling. I still wasn't exactly sure how I'd gotten hatched – the man hadn't seemed to have a sexual bone in his body. I could see him reacting to the blond coming onto him. Rather, I couldn't see him reacting, except to cut to the bone his visits to anywhere the blond was. Sex just hadn't existed for my old man. Neither had close friendships. It probably had been best for him and for mom, that she died before she was thirty.

* * *

"Hi there, Sammy," Henry called as he broke through the line of trees just below my car and started toward me. He laughed as he got closer and could see my nudity. "You working on getting a tan this early in the morning?"

I looked down at myself and smiled as my meat began to uncurl in reaction to the sound of his voice. "I knew you were coming and just didn't see the need to get spiffed up so that I could take it all off again," I told him as he reached the steps. "Want some coffee?"

"Yeah, that'd be good."

"In the kitchen. Sugar's still in the bag, milk's in the refrigerator. Help yourself." I watched as he went directly to the door and let himself into the house. I leaned back in my chair and relaxed, letting my dick grow.

A few minutes later, Henry was back on the verandah. I didn't look up until he was pulling a chair over so that he would be beside me. He'd stripped inside and was sporting a major hard-on for me and the world to drool over.

"Somebody horny this morning?" I asked.

He chuckled. "I stay horny, Sammy. I also like how you make me feel. You don't just get off in me; you want me to get as much out of it as you do." His fingertip moved to the root of my pecker and moved slowly up the cumchute. "Besides, we both know what we're going to be doing fairly soon – so, why take time out to get ready in the heat of the action?"

"Makes sense to me," I told him.

Henry leaned back in his chair, propping his feet on the rail but keeping his legs spread. His nine incher laid over his belly, throbbing to his heartbeat. He sipped his coffee and looked quickly at me, surprise across his face. "This is good coffee, Sammy. It sure isn't what most of us here drink. What is it?"

I chuckled. "It's French-roasted and freshly ground – that makes for a real difference in taste - more full-bodied. I like it."

"It does." He grinned over at me. "And so do I."

We sat in silence for the next few minutes, simply leaning back and enjoying the morning's warmth and each other's presence. Our dicks stayed hard but neither of us seemed to be in a hurry to get into something to relieve them.

I finished my mug and, setting it down, leaned closer to Henry, my feet slipping off the rail. My fingers cupped his balls before encircling the shaft of his pecker and pulled it off his belly. I felt his heartbeat and watched a drop of precum well in his slit.

I slipped off my chair and squatted beside him. I looked up into his face and smiled. He smiled back and lifted his leg for me to move between them. Leaning closer, I licked his balls. There was the scent of soap and the spice of fresh sweat mixed with it. My tongue followed his cumchute up to his helmet where I opened my mouth and engulfed him.

"That feels real good, Sammy," he mumbled as my lips moved down his shaft.

Henry was oozing continuously. His balls rode his shaft and his hands gripped the armrests of his chair. I pulled off and stood up. He opened his eyes when I lifted his leg and eased past it before lowering it and pulling his other one to it.

I straddled his legs and surprise showed in his eyes. "What're you doing, Sammy?" he asked as I climbed up on the chair so that my butt was hovering over his dick.

I knew what this guy had said yesterday afternoon. He was my fucktoy, and our sex was supposed to be all one way – my dick and his butt. Now that I knew the blond wasn't something out of a wet dream, that I'd been fucked long and hard the three nights I'd spent on the mountain, I was willing to make my relationship with Henry more equitable. He was one good-looking hunk, after all.

Besides, a part of me demanded to know if my liking dick up my butt was an all-around thing or if it was only the blond's pole I wanted there. If he could talk to me with his mind, there was an outside possibility that he was somehow controlling me and making me want him inside me. If I liked Henry's dick in me as much as I liked the blond's, I'd know for sure that I was queer. That it was me who was queer, not someone making me think I was.

And, no matter how that played out, I wasn't about to become anybody's personal fucktoy. I'd told the blond that, too – sometime during the night just past. Now, I was going to underline that statement of my freedom with action.

"No, you can't!" Henry groaned as I reached under me and gripped his pole.

"I can and I will," I told him. "I don't belong to anybody, neither do you." I lowered my butt until I felt the head of his dick wedge against my hole.

"But old Mr. Sam..."

Henry was staring wide-eyed up into my face as I lowered myself further and his dickhead spread my assmuscle.

The nerves in my pucker tingled as more of his wide head pushed into me. There was a little pain there as well. That surprised me. There hadn't been any pain before.

"Don't let him find out, Sammy!" Henry yelped as he accepted that he was going to fuck me this morning. "He'll nail my butt to the wall ... Sweet Jesus, you feel so good!"

My assmuscles clinched behind his helmet and I held myself where I was, hoping that I would adjust to Henry being inside me so I could enjoy this, like I did when the blond was plowing me. My dick decided it wasn't especially interested and drooped.

The pain ebbed and my ass eased down some more of him. My eyes widened as his pecker hit my prostate and began to push over it. I held myself where I was and wiggled my fanny around on him, letting it massage that spot inside me. My dick decided it could be interested after all and came back to life.

I tentatively eased more of him into me and found that his shaft could do most of what his dickhead had been doing to my prostate – and there was more of it to do it with. I smiled down at him and sat all the way down, impaling myself completely. I ground my butt on him and liked the feel of his pubic hair tickling the backside of my balls.

I began to fuck myself on his rod with slow, deliberate strokes aimed at making sure that my prostate got massaged. Henry made a fist around my pole and began to stroke me in time with my movements on him. His other hand rode my hip.

It felt good. My balls tightened and moved up on my shaft. I knew I was getting close. I shut my eyes and tried to find the sexual ecstasy I had known when the blond was in me.

It wasn't there. I continued to ride Henry; it continued to feel good. I was getting closer. I was rushing toward sexual release. But I wasn't riding the stars as I rode Henry.

"Oh, shit!" he groaned, his hand on my pole stopping in mid-stroke, his body jerking into rigor mortis. A moment later, I felt his pecker get larger inside me. The shithead was cumming without getting me off!

I grabbed my pole, knocking his hand away, and began to fist myself with everything I had. He blew a load inside me as I speeded up my sliding up and down on him.

It got easier to fuck myself on him as he unloaded a second shot inside me. I could feel myself reaching for it, I was almost there.

My butt was flying as fast as I could raise and lower it. My fist pounded my seven inches. Henry's dick belched out a third rope and the friction that had been just on the edge of perception from the moment his knob popped into me was gone. The only feeling left in my ass as I sawed away was his shaft gliding over my prostate.

It was enough – along with my fist working my pecker – when my fanny slammed down on his thighs again. Stiff, I blew a rope that hit his nose. A second erupted to slide up my chest. A third oozed out over my fingers. My assmuscles clinched and milked his pole for anything he had left in him.

He was still sprawled out on the rocking chair, his eyes closed, when I finally came back down to earth. I lifted off him and stood on the verandah looking down on him.

"Listen, asshole," I growled. "Next time I let you have my ass, you get me off first."

He opened his eyes and looked up at me, confused.

"Henry, both times I've fucked you, I made sure you came before I did, right?"

He nodded hesitantly.

"Well, a word to the wise then. Give as well as you receive, guy – it earns repeated pleasures."

Understanding dawned across his face then. He blushed, it went down into his pubes before I stopped following it. "I'm sorry, Sammy. Your butt just felt so good."

"Don't worry about." I mumbled. "Just don't let it happen again, okay?"

He sat up. "I – it's just that I don't do the driving very often, and I got all caught up in being allowed to do you, you know." His eyes blanked for a second and he went white. "Sammy, you can't even think about us doing it again, not with me in you. Old Mr. Sam can't know about it. Promise me that you won't let him know."

What did it matter if the blond knew I'd let the kid fuck me? I wasn't his. Though I did have to admit that I liked what his dick did to me more than Henry's. "Sure," I said.

I was still studying his dick. It was wet with cum. His pubes were wet. I began to realize my butt was wet too. I reached between my legs and felt the insides of my asscheeks and the puckered entrance to my hole. Wet. "Oh, shit!" I cried as comprehension of what we'd done began to settle over me.

"What's the matter?" Henry asked, looking from my crotch to my face and back again.

"You weren't wearing a raincoat."

"We rarely do up here, Sammy. It's okay."

"Shit! Think of all the diseases you could catch – and there is AIDS!"

"Not likely." Henry smiled tentatively. "You've got to understand our set-up here on the mountain."

"Oh?"

"We only do each other, Sammy. We stay away from kids in town and they stay away from us – there isn't any mixing. We boys fool around because the girls have to be virgin when they get married to one of us."

"What?"

"Yeah, it's pretty old-fashioned. All of the grown-ups like that their daughters aren't pregnant before they get married. They might not like it that their sons fool around with each other, but they accept it."

"Why, for God's sake?"

"Because we don't have pregnant girlfriends following after us when we come home. Almost all of us do get married, so there's really nothing to get worried about when one of us bends over for his cousin." He grinned. "Besides, our daddies were doing the same thing when they were our age – they know what's happening."

"So, you don't get STDs-"

"What's one of those?"

"Sexually transmitted diseases – like the clap or syphilis."

I thought about what he'd just told me for a minute. I could see where most boys would go along with, most girls too – it'd be all they'd ever known. "Most" being the operative word.

"What happens when one of the kids from the mountain steps out of that set-up, Henry? Some kid sees a pretty girl from town and isn't willing to stiff your butt as a replacement for having a piece of that pussy. It's got to happen."

"They'd be put off the mountain."

"For real?" I yelped.

He nodded. "There was a boy – about five years ago," Henry said, his face screwing up as he tried to remember the details. "He was just past sixteen as I remember it. He got hot for one of the cheerleaders in town. His parents took his car privileges away from him. He just didn't take the bus home and stayed in town a couple of times so he could spend time with her. His daddy would go get him when he was ready to come home."

"What happened?"

"That went on for a couple of weeks. People tried to talk to him. His parents finally went to the council when he just flat-out refused to obey their rules. The next thing we heard was that the sheriff picked that boy up in town the next time he skipped the bus, brought him up to his daddy's who locked him in the house. The next Monday he was escorted by the two strongest men on the mountain to some military school up in Virginia."

"Jesus shit!" I yelped. "What happened after that?"

Henry chuckled. "He's in the Army Rangers. He's married too. He writes his momma regular."

"He hasn't been home in five years?" I demanded in disbelief.

"This isn't his home any more, Sammy. He may be a Taylor, but he's not one of the Taylors of Taylor Mountain. And we don't invite visitors up here."

I was stunned.

"Hey! I forgot to tell you what I came up here this morning for."

"What's that?"

"Mr. Euston called Daddy this morning and asked that I bring you over to his house this afternoon for a little talk."