Oliver of the Adirondacks

By Dashiell Walraven

Feedback welcomed to dashiell.walraven@gmail.com or via the blog at http://dashiellwalraven.wordpress.com

Chapter 17

The delicate sensation of fingers brushing my scalp made me stir and turn over with a sleepy smile. A general murmur surrounded me as my mind clambered up from the depths of slumber. Whispers of awe and wonderment met my ears, and I finally opened my eyes to find my bunk encircled by an encroaching mass of boys, all trying to get their hands on my newly shorn head.

"Mornin' Sunshine," grinned Neal from the back of the pack, "Got a new `do' while the rest of us were sleeping, did ya?"

"Yup," I nodded groggily, swinging my feet down and standing up with a stretch, "been wanting to do it for a while." I looked down into the upturned faces of the boys and bent lower to give them one last chance to run their hands over my new flat-top crew cut.

"Looks like you're ready to sign up for the Marines!" said Brian Coopersmith.

"It's so RED looking like that," said another.

"Your fly is open Oliver," said Eddie. I grinned my thanks and quickly reached down to button the front of my flannels. Not that I much cared among all the fellows, but I was thankful I hadn't jumped out of bed with my normal morning wood.

The mouth-watering aroma of breakfast aroused my senses, a sudden pang of hunger overtook my belly. Pulling on my robe, I tucked my feet into my slippers. Neal and I led the boys, like a procession of playful pups, down the stairs to form a queue at the chafing dishes piled high with steaming eggs, browned sausages, crisp bacon, pancakes and thick slices of buttered toast. Soon, the room was full of chatter as girls and adults all joined in. Shortly, the families would pack up their suitcases, jam piles of new gifts and toys into their trunks and pile into their cars and leave our little winter oasis. One or two might stay past noon, but Christmas in the Pines would be over, returning us to our normal, daily lives.

Pastor Dave walked over and brushed his hand over my head. Instead of shrinking away like I normally did when somebody tried to muss my hair, I let him.

"Wow, look at that," he gave a low whistle, "your haircut makes you look taller, Oliver!"

"Really?" I asked, dubious, yet hopeful, "do you really think so?" There were nods of general agreement around the table, but most of the boys had their mouths so full of food they didn't bother speaking. Neal sat across from me, grinning like a bandit, but he hadn't said much about it. The morning sun was streaming through the tall windows behind him, casting him in silhouette. His black hair sparkled like obsidian in the light's rays, dust motes danced in the air above his head. Every movement made the tips of his hair glitter with tiny rainbows.

"Geez you two," said Lizzie-B, "get a room, would ya?"

"What?" I asked, shocked out of my momentary reverie.

"Nothin'" she said, a capricious little smirk on her face, "Nothin' important." Neal narrowed his eyes as he looked at her, as if trying to fathom something. Eventually he just shrugged and continued eating. Neal's father walked over and put his hand on Neal's shoulder.

"Don't forget to pack up your stuff Neal," he said, "we'll be taking off as soon as the car's packed."

"Aww Dad," Neal breathed a dejected sigh, "Why do we hafta go so fast?"

"Long way back to Hartford, Sport," he said, patting Neal gently, "there's another storm brewing and we need to get home before any more snow flies." I moment of intense sorrow settled in me for a second, but I pushed it away before I could really feel it. I knew what it was and I'd deal with it later, for now I wanted to be with Neal as much as humanly possible. When breakfast was done, we all helped to clear the tables as the families started herding the kids and packing up. The big Christmas tree vibrated as people bustled around, it's tinsel and ornaments scintillating in the morning sun. It almost seemed to sense that this busy time meant the festivities were at an end.

Neal and I both changed into our clothes and helped the younger boys roll up and bag their bed-rolls. When it looked like things were mostly done, we donned outdoor gear and headed down the stairs.

"Where are you two going?" my father asked.

"To my cabin," I said, "Neal has some stuff there and we want to make sure he doesn't forget any of it." My dad nodded his understanding and we barreled out the door and down the path toward the lake. My little hunter's shack sat quietly set back into the woods behind the beachfront, still almost buried in snow. We sprinted to the little porch, kicked the snow off our boots and made our way inside. Once there, Neal made a point of firmly closing the door and throwing the lock. He turned to me with an exaggerated pout.

"I don't wanna go," he proclaimed, making his eyes comically sad and huge, "let me look at your hair." I inclined my head toward him and he stood up on tip-toes, inspecting the new buzz-cut.

"What do you think?" I asked, with some trepidation.

"I like it," he said, "it really suits you." He rubbed the palm of his hand over the top of my head and down around the nape of my neck. "Sheez, feels like velvet." The warmth of his hand sent a tingle down my spine and I involuntarily shivered, closing my eyes for a second. I felt his nose brush the side of my cheek and then his lips found mine. Inhaling hungrily, catching the scent of pancakes and syrup on him, a pleasant pressure coalesced in the front of my trousers. Neal wrapped his arms around my neck and sucked greedily at my mouth, our tongues dancing together. He stopped and pulled away for a moment, I opened my eyes.

"Dude, what are you crying for?" I hadn't been aware of the few tears running down my face.

"Guess I'm gonna miss you when you go home," I whispered hoarsely, "it's so long until summer." He looked into my eyes for a moment, but then smiled again, eyes twinkling in the muted light of the room.

"You're such a goof."

We both laughed. Neal put his palm on my chest, pushed me away and got down in front of me to paw at my belt. I stayed his hands, and instead drew him to the bed, where I pulled him over on top of me and wrapped my legs around his. Even fully clothed, I could feel his hardness against mine. He moaned, pushing his boots into the footboard of the bed and pressing his stiffness alongside mine. The bed frame groaned at the strain, but held together. Our clothing muted the sensations between us, which luckily prevented me from exploding in my pants right there. For a few minutes, we ground ourselves together, panting and gasping into each other's mouth. I wriggled as Neal pressed his lips against the base of my neck and licked me with the tip of his tongue, leaving a moist trail that felt cold in the icy air of the cabin.

"Stop!" I cried out, giggling like a school girl, "that tickles!" Neal abruptly sat astride my legs, and deftly pulled open the zipper of my pants. Reaching beyond several layers clothing, he found my rigid penis, and pulled it out. I lay there, breathing heavily, with his fist wrapped around me. Slowly, he began pulling down on it, letting the foreskin stretch and freeing the crown to glisten in the light. Just as carefully, he let it slide back, covering the end again. He did this several times, with slow deliberation, making me feel harder than I thought possible.

Eventually, Neal leaned over, shifting off of my legs and lowered his mouth over my dick. I groaned, gritting my teeth, and involuntarily did a slow thrust into mouth. Neal moaned around me, and began to bob his head, while stroking my thighs and butt. I felt my climax approaching and I didn't want things to end so quickly.

"Turn around," I grunted, "let me do you too." Neal climbed off, turned around and tugged open his belt, practically tearing his pants open. Pulling them down to his thighs, he quickly turned around. When Neal covered my penis with his hot, wet mouth again, after it had been standing upright in the cold air of the cabin, the sensation sent me to the moon. I hungrily grabbed at his penis, dangling before me, and greedily devoured it.

"Ungh... Gawd!" he groaned, his mouth stuffed full of me, "Fuuuuuck!"

There was no denying we were on the fast track. I pulled wrapped my arms around his hips and pulled his butt down towards my face, driving his penis into my throat. I felt him suck me in until his lips touched the base of my dick, he pulled gently but feverishly at my balls. Without even really thinking about it, I pulled his cheeks apart and stuck the tip of my index finger into his anus, the ring-like muscle contracted tightly around it. I felt my face flush as the runaway train of my climax started to accelerate. Neal's hips began to piston and I felt his back tighten.

With his balls draped across my nose, I could see his perineum swell and become engorged, an amazing thing to watch. Suddenly, Neal groaned loudly; I saw the muscles start to contract and pulse. A half a moment later I felt those contractions race along his dick as thin jets of semen painted the back of my throat. I swallowed, which seemed to drive him even crazier. Feeling my crisis reaching it's zenith, I screwed my eyes shut, letting the intense waves of pleasure flow over my body. My hips bucked as Neal nursed my pecker like an impatient, hungry calf tugs at a cow's teat. Between us, the sounds were loud, animalistic and raw; we made no attempt at discretion. Neal's anus contracted frantically around my finger as he finally started to slow down; he pulled his penis from my mouth.

"Sorry," he gasped, "it's just too intense."

"S'okay," I breathed heavily, "me too."

Neal rolled from me and collapsed on to the cold side of the bed. He let out a little whoop as his butt hit the cold blankets; he quickly pulled his drawers up. We both lay there, our panting gave way, eventually, to normal breathing. I savored the taste of him in my mouth.

"Son of a bitch!" he heaved a great sigh, "That was some send off, Oliver."

"We're gonna be burping sperm for weeks after that, " I giggled.


Neal turned around and lay next to me, shoulder to shoulder.

"Gonna miss me?" I asked, quietly.

"Nah," he said, reaching over and patting my deflating penis with a mischievous smirk, "just this part of ya."

"Ass!" I declared, brushing him away in mock hurt.

"I guess I'll miss that too," he added. We both broke out into peals of laughter, only to jump when a powerful knock rattled the door.

"C'mon Neal," came the voice of his father through the door, "we gotta hit the road." Leaping up, we hastily tucked away our tackle amid furtively whispered curses, straightened our clothes and put on heavy winter coats again. Neal unbolted the door and it swung open to show Neal's father looking at us; we both tried to act nonchalant.

"Where's all the extra stuff you said you had down here?" he asked, his face an unconvinced, questioning smile.

"Uh, well," Neal shrugged, "guess I didn't have anything down here like I thought. My mistake." Neal's father regarded him for a moment, as if to say something else, but instead turned and waved us out.

"Come, the chariot awaits!"

As their car crunched down the snowbound gravel of the driveway, my family and I stood on the porch of the Lodge, waving. The stillness of the morning air did not weigh on me like I anticipated it would; instead, I felt at peace. Somehow, I knew we had cemented our bond, and that we would see each other again. The gulf of time between his parting that the time we would be back together, didn't seem so insurmountable. I still ached a little for his presence, but not in the same disconsolate way as before. Mom, who had her arm slung around my waist, looked over to me after she stopped waving.

"You okay Ollie?" she asked quietly. I felt the corners of my eyes crinkle as I broke into a broad smile; I turned to look at her concerned face.

"Yeah, I'm good," I sighed, "now let's get this place packed up." Both my mother and father looked at me wide-eyed.

"Oh Oliver," Mom said, "There's no rush, we don't need to..."

"I'm serious Mom," I said earnestly, "if we start now, we can get it all battened down and stowed away for the rest of the winter and be done by nightfall." My parents looked back and forth to one another with bemused smiles. My mother even put her palm to my forehead to make sure I wasn't delirious with fever. We all laughed as we turned to go inside.

True to my word, we made yoeman's work of cleaning up the lodge, pulling linens from the beds, and taking down the decorations from the tree. Rather than try to drag the tree out, my father chose to open the windows and chop it up with the chainsaw. It made an unholy racket in the huge central room, and despite the opened windows, the fumes from the little engine were still pretty awful. However, it made short work of the gigantic tree that Garrett and my Dad had labored so hard to erect. Mom and I stacked the logs as they came off, and dragged the smaller branches and needles to the brush pile outside. By the time we swept up and brushed out all the fallen needles, a fresh batch of logs was stacked on the porch to weather and season, and the great room looked like it had never even seen the massive tree.

We piled the linens on a small trailer behind the tractor; Mom would wash those over the next week or so, ironing and folding them in preparation for when the Lodge was reopened in the spring. We stood in the middle of the great room, surveying everything as the day's sun started to dip below the horizon. Dad was walking out of the kitchen, having turned off the water.

"What say I take you two out to dinner?" he said, patting us both on the back proudly.

"Oh wait!" I said. I raced up the stairs to retrieve my new telescope. Carrying it carefully under my arm, we walked out into the darkening twilight, and trudged up to our house, as Dad followed in the tractor.