Oliver of the Adirondacks

By Dashiell Walraven

Feedback welcomed to dashiell.walraven@gmail.com or via the blog at http://dashiellwalraven.wordpress.com (New chapters always appear there first)

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Chapter 41

"Oscar!" I hissed, "What the hell?"

Oscar's grin evaporated and he drew back his hand like he'd touched a hot coal.

"I'm sorry Oliver!" he whimpered, "I just saw it and..."

"Shhhh!" I hushed him, "You're going to wake everybody up!" My eyes darted around the dark room, the only light being the reflection of the moon. No one else was awake, so I tossed off the remainder of my covers, and stood up, making sure my shirt didn't fall down onto the spooge on my chest. Grabbing his hand, I pulled him along with me down to the bathroom.

I grabbed a fist full of toilet paper from one of the stalls and wiped up the sticky fluid that remained on my chest.

"Shit," I cursed, seeing that much of my goop had run down my belly and soaked into the waistband of my flannel pants. I did what I could to squeeze it out with the toilet paper and did a reasonably good job of it. My attention turned back to Oscar when I heard him sniff.

"I'm so sorry Oliver!" he whined, "I didn't know that would happen. Did I hurt you?"

I looked over to him, his eyes brimmed with tears and he was trembling as he stood there, naked in the cool air. I felt my anger dissipate, replaced with concern, the boy was obviously very scared.

"Listen, Os," I said quietly, "You just surprised me, is all. Let me get the rest of this cleaned up and we'll get back to bed, okay?"

"Okay," he said, forlornly. He watched silently as I dabbed at the remaining wet spots on my waistband. "I think there's still some on your throat," he said, pointing to my neck. I looked in the mirror and raised my chin; I needed another few squares of toilet paper to get the little dollop of jizz there.

"Thanks," I said, "looks like I shot a bunch."

"Oliver?" Oscar asked in a husky, almost-whisper, "Did you pee on yourself? What was that?" Through the mirror, I looked down at his awestruck expression.

"You ever play with yourself?" I asked, nonchalantly.

"I guess," Oscar shrugged, "sometimes."

"Do you do it long enough so that you get a big shivery feeling all over your body?" Oscar looked blankly at me.

"No," he said, "I stop because I feel like I'm gonna pee myself, and I'm scared."

"Don't be afraid, Oscar," I reassured him, "it's okay to get that feeling, because what happens after that, feels really good."

"Really?" he asked, wide-eyed.

"Yeah," I breathed, feeling my half-mast dick give a throb. "So anyway, when you're a little bit older, your dick starts to squirt out that stuff when you get that feeling. Sometimes, when you're sleeping, you have a dream that makes that happen too."

"Ugh," he grimaced, sticking his tongue out, "that's kinda gross."

"Nah," I said, "it feels freaking amazing and the stuff that comes out is what makes babies."

"For real?" Oscar's face incredulous.

"Yeah, when a guy sticks his penis into a girl and it squirts that stuff inside her, it mixes with her eggs and she gets a baby in her belly."

"Whoa," Oscar breathed, his face a picture of wonder and discovery, his hand absently toying with his flaccid little pecker. I finished my cleanup, stood in front of the urinal and had a quick piss before washing my hands and turning to go. I laid a hand on Oscar's shoulder and walked with him back to the bunk room. Quietly, he climbed up into his bunk, I helped to pull his covers over him.

"Now get to back to sleep Oscar," I whispered.

"Oliver?" he whispered back, "I'm sorry."

"S'okay dude," I reassured him, "no biggie. Goodnight."

"G'night," he smiled sleepily.

I laid back down on my bunk, but found I couldn't fall back to sleep. I decided to toss on a t-shirt, and venture down to the kitchen to snag a snack and some milk. As I made my way down the stairs, I realized my Dad was seated, alone on the couch nearest to the dying embers of the fire, beer in hand. I hadn't known he was sitting there and wondered if he saw me parading the naked Oscar up and down the balcony, to the bathroom and back.

"Hey Ollie," Dad said as I sat down next to him, "bathroom emergency?"

"Sort of," I said, "Oscar needed to go, and I just had one of 'those' dreams, so I got cleaned up while he went." I figured it was close enough to the truth that he wouldn't dig further and find out Oscar was the reason for my predicament. If he suspected anything, he didn't let on.

"Oh," he shrugged, "I understand. Can't sleep now though, eh?"

"Yeah, kind of," I nodded, "thought I might do a midnight raid on the fridge."

"Plenty of leftovers," Dad said, "I was thinking of rigging up a sandwich of turkey, stuffing and cranberry sauce for myself." My belly rumbled at the thought. Hard to believe that I had been, just a few hours earlier, so stuffed to the gills that I could not imagine taking another bite. Now suddenly, I found myself ravenously hungry again.

In the kitchen, dad pulled out a tray of turkey meat, a massive jar of mayonnaise, leftover stuffing and a fresh can of cranberry sauce. He opened the can with a hand operated opener, because the power opener would probably have awakened everybody in the lodge. The sauce plopped out of the can with a liquid slurp that made Dad and I giggle. Dad cut some hard rolls in half and we started building our masterpiece "Dagwood" sandwiches, when Neal tottered in, his black hair all askew.

"Whatcha guys doin'?" he muttered, scratching at his behind.

"Sammiches!" Dad said brightly, "You in?"

"Oh yeah," Neal smacked his lips hungrily, the fog lifting from his eyes. Silently, we each piled on turkey, stuffing with a generous slathering of mayo and cranberry sauce. As we stood before our sandwiches and prepared to eat them, I spoke up.

"Dad? Do you mind if I have a beer?" I asked. Neal cocked up an eyebrow comically.

"Really?" Dad asked.

"Yeah," I said, "yours looks kinda good with that sandwich and I'd like to try it."

"Okay," Dad shrugged, pulling two out of the fridge, "Neal?"

"Thanks," Neal accepted the bottle, clearly amazed at the offer.

"Well, don't tell your mothers or I'll be in a world of shit," Dad laughed, "and don't go thinking you can help yourself to this stuff any time you feel like it either!"

We raised our bottles and clinked them together in the ritual of male bonding I'd seen my father and his friends do on many occasions. It felt good, and made me feel very grown-up to be sharing a beer with my dad. Neal grimaced at his first swallow, but gamely continued to sip as he ate his massive sandwich. I too found the taste a tad overbearing, but by the time we got through our snack, I'd finished about half the bottle and was feeling a nice buzzy warmth.

With nary a thought, I cocked a leg to the side and pushed out a noisy fart. Neal had been drinking in mid-swallow and ended up snorting some beer out of his nose, which made us both snicker. Looking up at the incredulous look on my father's face only served to make us laugh harder and out loud.

"Look at you two lightweights," he shook his head. "Not even three quarters down on your beers and you're already a couple of silly drunks!" Dad declared, "Shameful!"

Neal, with a sparkle in his eye, raised his bottle to me once more in a brotherly salute; we clinked them again. Neal actually stumbled a little, which made us snort and giggle even more. We sat on the couch with Dad for a few minutes more as we downed the dregs of our first beers together. Looking over at Neal, I could see his eyes at half-mast, his head lolling occasionally as he fought to stay awake.

"Okay, you sorry lot," Dad said, playfully grabbing at our knees, trying to wake us both up, "better get back to bed before you fall asleep out here and I have explain things to your mothers." Neal nodded his agreement and I stood up, somewhat wobbly myself.

"Not before I hit the bathroom," Neal announced. The beer was knocking on the door of my bladder too, so I agreed this was a good plan. Dad bade us goodnight as we slowly mounted the stairs and made our way to the bathroom.

I couldn't remember ever having to piss so badly in my life, and as I stood before the urinal, the exquisite relief of draining my distended bladder, caused me to sigh. Next to me, Neal let out a massive, all-over-body shiver.

"Oh my God," he moaned softly. It seemed like we pissed for ages before we finally were able to shake it off. I was stuffing my dick back into my pants when I turned to look at Neal, who was standing there, staring at me. He had a strange look on his face and his dick was sticking out of his pajamas at me.

"What?" I asked. Neal stepped forward and put his hands on my shoulders.

"Dude," he said, gravely serious, "Can't say it enough but, I totally love you man."

"I know," I nodded, "me too."

"No, for real, I mean it," he shook me a little, his eyes glistening, as if I'd denied him somehow, "Do you even know much I love you?" Before I could answer, he crushed himself against me in a fierce hug, his dick hard as stone. He buried his nose into my neck, I could feel his tears there. I grabbed his shoulders and pushed him back up so I could look at his face. He was crying, and in my buzzed state, I was completely confused.

"Dude," I breathed, "it's okay, I get it. Me too, okay? Me too!" Neal smiled crookedly at me and swayed a little bit in my arms. His erection poked against me through our flannels, I felt my dick start to swell in response. Without further words, Neal put his lips to mine and began hungrily kissing me. My arms wrapped around him pulling his butt toward me, mashing our dicks together. Neal ground himself against me for a few minutes, our breathing coming in progressively heavier pants and gasps.

Neal maneuvered us both to lean me against one of the sinks. Without speaking, he ducked down and pulled my flannels down in one, fluid motion. The shock of the cold porcelain against my ass, along with the scorching heat of his mouth as he inhaled my dick, made it swell and start shooting almost immediately. I hunched over his head, entwining my fingers with his soft, inky hair, as I fired several volleys off into his gullet. I tried to push him off, my dickhead being extremely sensitive, but he wouldn't let me go until I stopped spasming in his mouth. I released my grip on his head as I leaned back on my elbows and shook my head.

"Fuuuuuuuuck!" I let out a long groan as my deflated dick lolled from Neal's mouth, "Holy shit!" Neal stood up and kissed me again, I tasted the boozy flavor of beer combined with my juices and found it intoxicating. We kissed like that for a few moments before kneeling down, parting his fly and gobbling his stony penis into my mouth. I bobbed up and down on his rod, making it slick with spit before turning around and bending over the sink. Neal required no further prompting.

Dropping his pants around his ankles, Neal shuffled forward and pressed the palms of his hands against my cheeks, spreading them. Using only his hips, he guided his missile to enter me directly, gliding gently in. As he slowly bottomed out, I felt my own cock start to rise again.

Neal started to thrust in earnest, his hunger and lust for me promised a quick, but spectacular climax. Something about the difference in our heights, the way I was bent over the sink's edge and the way in which he was thrusting, caused the tip of his cock to caress that spot on my insides which always drives me over the edge.

My stiff dick was soon smearing clear liquid all over the edge of the sink as Neal pounded me like one of those old, reciprocating steam engines. With a deep, throaty growl, his buttocks tightened and I could feel him strain as he buried himself within me and released his payload. For the third time that night, I felt my insides churn and twist as my own, now meager, jets of semen spurted across the white porcelain. Neal leaned over onto my back, gulping for air, his hips making spastic little thrusts as he pumped that last bits of his orgasm into my guts. His body was warm against me, and I watched in the mirror as Neal, his eyes closed, finished hunching into me. Slippery dampness squished under me as the remains of my discharge cooled between me and the surface of the sink. I enfolded Neal's arms around my chest and hugged him close to me, not wanting to let him go. We stood together like that, until his dick softened enough to slither out of my tingling butt-hole on its own.

"Don't ever leave me," he muttered, nuzzling the back of my neck. I pulled the palm of one of his hands to my mouth and kissed it.

"I won't," I purred, "not ever."data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7

Chapter 42

No sooner had Thanksgiving come and gone, than it seemed like Christmas in the Pines was upon us once more. The very next weekend, Dad put me, Neal and Garrett to work, getting ready. The Lodge was completely booked, as well as most of the other cabins. Lizzy-B also lent a hand, helping Mom to wash, dry and iron all the bed linens. Dad always chided Mom for doing this, but she insisted it was set us apart from all the other "camps" in the region. We were more like a hotel than a rustic cluster of cabins in the woods.

I agreed with Mom. When she finished making up a room, it looked, felt and smelled like home. The sheets were crisp and fresh, she made sure none of the fluffy towels had threadbare spots, and she always sprayed everything with a lightly scented lavender or rose water. By the time the huge, pine, Christmas tree was set up in the great room, the entire lodge was brimming with a heady mixture of scents. Those, combined with the delicious aromas from Mom's cooking, meant that I will forever associate those smells with Christmas.

Lizzy, who had agreed to chaperone the girls who wanted to bunk together, had a plaintive plea for taking over the bunk room on the first tier, normally occupied by the boys. It seems, not only did she not appreciate the trek up three flights of stairs from the ground floor of the great room, up to the second tier balcony, the height didn't agree with her either.

"You guys okay with taking second tier?" Dad asked. Both Neal and I shrugged. The height didn't bother us at all, but I understood where Lizzy was coming from. The second floor balcony was about half as narrow as the one below it. I think it was designed that way so that if somebody did fall, they'd only drop ten feet, as opposed to the twenty-plus feet to the ground floor below. The railings and balustrades were solidly built and not going to give way, but the height and narrowness of the balcony could easily create a sense of vertigo in someone.

Both Neal and I agreed, the boys would probably enjoy the extra adventure of being in the "way up". Our suspicions were confirmed when Brian Coopersmith, upon arriving and hearing that we were all bedding down on the upper floor, jumped for joy and enthusiastically hugged both of us before racing up the stairs to claim his bunk. I asked him later on that night why he liked that room so much and always chose an upper bunk, and he said, cheerfully, "Because it makes me closer to the sky!"

The usual cast of characters joined us over the next couple of days. When Eddie Parnell arrived, I barely recognized him. Even though he was younger than Neal and I, he had shot up to stand almost level with me. The rest of his body hadn't caught up with him, so he looked very skinny and rangy. My eyes drifted down and caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a very respectable bundle in his trousers and I found myself wondering if that part was still as skinny as the rest of him.

Eddie, for his part, seemed a little stand-offish and aloof. Neal noticed it too. When I told Eddie we were in the upstairs room this year, he rolled his eyes impatiently.

"Seriously?" he grunted.

"Yeah," I explained, "the girls asked for the other room this year and we didn't think it would be a problem."

"Whatever," Eddie mumbled, slung his bag over his shoulder and trudged up the stairs. We followed him with our eyes.

"Sheez," Neal murmured under this breath, "what crawled up his ass?"

"I wonder," I said, confused. Eddie did not seem is usual ebullient, nerdy, gawky self, but certainly still dressed the part. With his wide lapel shirt, curly white-boy-afro, huge ashtray-thick glasses and clingy, polyester bell-bottoms, he looked like he jumped out of seventies action movie. Actually, considering what it looked like he had packed into the front of those skin-tight pants, it might have been a porno movie, (not that we knew anything much about those yet).

Neal stayed down in the great room to greet any other boys coming in to the check-in desk. Up in the bunk room, I helped Brian get settled in, securing his clothes in the cubby next to the bunk he chose. Naturally, it was the one over my bunk, but I didn't mind. I had a soft-spot for Brian. Every time he looked up at me with those amazingly wide eyes and button nose, I felt a surge of affection, like I might have had for a kid brother.

Eddie, on the other hand, just stuffed his bag into the cubby next to his bunk and flopped down onto it, staring out the window. Brian jumped down from his bunk and announced he was going to go to the toilet and then go visit his parents in their room. After he left, I turned to Eddie, who was making a point to not look at me.

"So Eddie, what gives?" I asked. Eddie turned to glare at me for a moment and then turned back to the window.

"Nuffin'" he grunted.

"C'mon," I said, walking over and giving a gentle sock to the shoulder. Eddie recoiled a little and shrugged me off.

"Leave me alone, Oliver."

"Did I do something wrong?"

"Hmph," Eddie said gruffly, "Just bug off already."

I stood there and blinked at him, not knowing what else to say. Eddie turned entirely away from me, facing the wall and closed his eyes. I had been thoroughly dismissed, it made me feel really bad, and kind of angry.

"Fine." I said, turning on my heel and exiting the bunk room, "Suit yourself."

Returning downstairs, the holiday atmosphere was a welcome relief from Eddie's dark mood. Everybody was smiling, milling about, signing in, and picking up keys to their cabins or their rooms, if they were staying in the lodge. Mom had her usual vast platters of cookies and goodies scattered about, with urns of coffee, hot chocolate, mulled cider and eggnog. Pretty soon, presents would start piling up under the enormous tree, ready for the bacchanalia that was Christmas morning.

I found Eddie's father and tugged at his arm. He turned around and greeted me warmly with an expansive hug.

"Oh hey, Oliver!" he beamed, "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas," I smiled back at him.

"How are you?" He inquired, "My GOD you've grown!" Eddies father was one of those bigger=than-life people, huge personality, he'd talk about the weather at the top of his lungs.

"So has Eddie," I observed, "he is almost as tall as me."

"I know!" he said, "So you've seen him already?"

"Yes," I said, then lowering my voice, "So what's with Eddie? He seems kinda down." Eddie's Dad's face darkened somewhat. He looked left and right, and then took my elbow and walked me out of earshot of others.

"Uhm, hey, Listen, Oliver," he said, conspiratorially, "Eddie has had a rough go of it at school. Seems he got into it with one of the football players at the start of the school year."

"Holy Cow!" I exclaimed, "What happened?"

"I'm not sure, to be honest," he shrugged, "Eddie won't say. I will tell you though, Eddie ended up worse for the experience."

"Did he get beat up?" I asked.

"Yes," he nodded, "the dental bill alone was staggering. That guy knocked out most of Eddie's front teeth, and nearly broke his jaw."

"What the...?" I breathed.

"No shit, right?" Eddie's father nodded.

"I hope that guy got in trouble."

"He was expelled, ultimately," he nodded some more, "but now the whole football team is gunning for him. He's not eating well, he's sullen all the time, and I think he's scared for his life. I tried to get him to take Karate or something so he could defend himself, but he just doesn't want to listen."

I shook my head silently, stunned.

"I guess that explains it," I said, "I'm really sorry about that, I know what it's like to be bullied."

"Yes you do, so that was one of the reasons I dragged him here," he said, scratching at the corner of his ridiculous mustache, "Maybe you could talk to him?"

"He didn't seem particularly interested in talking to me,"

"Well, if he does, maybe you could mention about how important it is to stand up and defend himself," he said, "Sometimes the only thing those bullies respect is somebody standing up to them." I nodded, remembering my experiences with Peter Gilbert. "But then," he added, "I don't have to tell YOU that."

"Huh?" I asked him, blinking.

"Well, you know," he said, with a big smile, "You kicked your bully's ass pretty hard, didn't you?" Ah, I thought, so my reputation precedes me. It didn't seem worth it to explain that Peter had, more than anything, been a victim of his own clumsiness, twice, so I just let it go.

"I'll see if he'll talk to me." I assured him. Eddie's father smiled broadly at me and clapped me on the shoulder.

"I'd appreciate it Oliver, I really would."

Sitting back down next to Neal at the registration desk, I helped more people get signed in and showed them to their rooms. Neal, remained at the desk, his asthma not letting him take repeated excursions up and down the stairs. I understood, and managed to get most everyone squared away before it was time to sit down to dinner. Eddie sat with his family for the buffet style supper, whereas Lizzy, Neal and I sat among the kids on the floor, setting our meals on one of the many ottomans, and helping the younger ones with cutting food or cleaning up messes.

After the meal had been cleared, guitars came out and the first of many evening sing-a-longs began. We strummed our way through the fun stuff like "Jingle Bells", "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer", "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" and all of the kids' favorites. Gradually, the songs wound down and got quieter until Dad doused the lights. In the candlelight and the softly blinking lights from the tree, a lone guitar began strumming the chords to "Edelweiss" from the movie "Sound of Music". All our voices rose and fell together as we sang the familiar tune. We modulated very naturally into "Silent Night", during which, one of the little girls pointed to the windows along the veranda.

"Hey look!" she exclaimed in her tiny voice, "It's snowing!"

And so it was. data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7

Chapter 43

The next day, Christmas Eve, all the kids wanted to go out into the newly fallen snow, and have a snowball fight. I hesitated, remembering that the events of the previous year, as if they were yesterday. Garrett, for his part, came barreling up the drive with a snow plow attached to his truck, and cleared the drive and parking areas of snow, while guests moved their cars around for them. It had snowed nearly a foot and a half overnight, so by the time he was done, there were some decent embankments ready to endure the most fevered of battles.

Garrett participated in the melee, stopping here and there to rescue the odd little one who had fallen over and found it difficult to regain their feet in their snowsuits. There were tears, of course, when the occasional, errant snowball went directly into somebody's face or down their collar. Even Eddie seemed to be having a good time.

That is, until I pelted him with a fluffy white bomb that seemed to explode right behind the glasses. He stood up, his eyes comically blotted out like an enormous Li'l Orphan Annie by great big clots of snow between his lenses and his face. Eddie whipped off his glasses and dug the snow out of his eyes, his face a picture of white-hot rage. He came pounding down the snow after me, roaring like a highlander.

At first, I thought he was play-acting, but he tackled me with a full head of steam, knocking the wind out of me as we fell together into a snow berm. The next thing I knew, Eddie was screaming and throwing fists. I managed to dodge most of them, as he was just flailing, but he did connect with a couple of them; I felt my glasses crunch against my cheek. Moments later, Eddie seemed to levitate as Garrett pulled him up and away from me. Enraged, I came up swinging, my vision tinged blood-red. Before Garrett could stop me, I swung a haymaker Eddie's way, connecting solidly with his left temple. Eddie's eyes turned glassy for a moment, his cage obviously rattled.

"Whoa, Oliver stop!" Garrett shouted. I didn't listen, I was going in for the kill when Garrett put his palm against my chest and pushed me down into the snow. I looked up at Garrett, holding the sobbing Eddie up by his collar, and realized I was crying too.

"What the hell, Eddie?" I hollered.

"Let me fucking go!" Eddie hollered back, trying unsuccessfully to squirm away from Garrett's tight grip.

"Calm down, Eddie," Garrett gave him a little shake, "Relax, don't make me get your father out here." That seemed to take the fire out of Eddie's belly for the moment. He slumped over, let his fists fall to his side, and Garrett let him down. "You done being a ding-dong for now?" Eddie gave a defeated nod. "Good," he said sternly, "Stay right there until we get this sorted out." Again Eddie nodded and made no move to escape.

My breathing was still coming in hitches and gasps, tears streaming down my face. Neal, seeing all the commotion in the distance, came bounding over.

"Oliver? Eddie? Garrett, what's going on?" he panted, I could hear him wheezing.

"Not sure," Garrett said, calmly, "but we're about to find out. Do me a favor, and keep the other kids occupied while I take Muhammed Ali and Joe Frazier here, over to the wood shed and hash this out."

I looked over and saw the pathetic remains of my glasses glinting in the snow. One lens had been smashed, and the frame bent into crazy angles. I moaned aloud, knowing how pissed-off my parents were going to be about that. Garrett held out his hand and help hoist me up. Then, with a hand at both of our necks, escorted us to the wood shed, where we all knew a reckoning was to be had.

Garrett opened the door of the wood shed for us, I walked in, but Eddie looked like he was fixing to bolt. Garrett collared him, and Eddie gave up any thought of running. We each sat our morose butts down on a log, while Garrett lit a kerosene lantern, and then shut the door.

"Okay lads," Garrett said with this hands on his hips, looking rather fatherly, "What gives?"

An awkward silence ensued as both Eddie and I took turns looking at each other and then glancing away.

"Oliver," Garrett barked sharply, impatient with the two of us.

"I, uhm," I started, upset with myself that my voice sounded tremulous and child-like, "I just got Eddie with a snow ball, and... and he got all mad... and he starts... (sniffle) he starts hitting me!"

"Shh, Oliver, stop," Garrett said, putting up his hand to me. I realized I'd been shouting.

"You hit me in the face on purpose, you... you fucker!" Eddy blurted out, newly enraged.

"TAKE IT EASY BOY!" Garrett raised his voice. I'd never heard him do that before, "Don't make me have to clobber the both of ya's." I looked up at Garrett's serious face, the veins in his neck were standing out, he looked REALLY angry. "Alright, I saw what happened and that was a little fluff-ball of snow, there was no need to go ape-shit."

"Yeah" I mumbled.

"Shush, Oliver," Garrett snapped. I shushed. "You've been a sour-puss since you got here, Eddie. You and Oliver have been friends for a while now, and this isn't like you. What's really eating at your ass?" Eddie was silent for a beat, staring holes in his snow boots. "Well?" Garrett prompted.

"Uhm... well... I been having some trouble at school."

"What kinda trouble?"

"His Dad says some football jock beat him up," I chimed in. Garrett turned to look at me, and then back to Eddie, who face was twisting in a mixture of rage and embarrassment.

"HE TOLD YOU THAT?" Eddie yelled, seething. He looked like he wanted to jump across and pound me again.

"Eddie, chill," Garrett put a calming on Eddie's shoulder, which seemed to help. Eddie lowered his head into his hands and started sobbing. Garrett sat down next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close. Eddie sagged against Garrett and continued bawling.

"He knocked out all my teeth," Eddie wailed, "and he broke my glasses." I looked down at my own mangled glasses and worried anew what my Mom was going to have to say about that. "He called me a homo and pulled my pants off in front of the team in the locker room and made me run naked down the hall."

"Whoa," I whistled softly. I surely knew what it was like to be humiliated at the hands of a bully. I suddenly felt pity for poor Eddie, I got up and sat next to him, putting my hand on his knee to offer my apology and support. I never got the chance to say anything because Eddie reared up and pushed me away roughly, causing me to fall to the ground. The edge of a log dug into my chest as I fell with my whole weight on it. I heard the crack and a bright, stab of pain burned through my side. I rolled over, moaning in agony, unable to catch my breath.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" I heard Garrett shouting. He was standing, shaking Eddie like a rag doll, by the lapels of his snow suit. "He was trying to be nice, for Pete's sake! Why are you taking it out on him? It's not Oliver's fault you got beat up!"

"IT IS!" Eddie screamed into Garrett's face, spittle flying from his lips. Eddie's color had gone a distinct shade of purple. "IT IS OLIVER'S FAULT! HE DID THIS TO ME!" Eddie dissolved once again into wracking sobs. Garrett looked stunned. I managed to sit up with difficulty, a new wave of pain searing through me.

"What?" I gasped.

"I'M NOT A HOMO!" Eddie howled, now rocking himself like a madman, "YOU'RE THE HOMO OLIVER! YOU MADE EVERYONE THINK I'M A HOMO AND I'M NOT A HOMO!" Garrett and I were nonplussed, exchanging looks back and forth. He turned to Eddie and put a hand on his shoulder again. Eddie tried to shrug him off, but Garrett took a good hold of Eddie's trapezium and applied steady pressure.

"You've got to get a hold of yourself there Eddie, and start explaining," Garrett said sternly, but quietly, "because nothing you're saying is making any sense. Nobody thinks that about you, so come on, let's stop all this nonsense." Eddie seemed to calm down some after that.

"It IS Oliver's fault," Eddie insisted, glaring down at a very confused me.

"How?" Garrett asked, simply.

"I was coming back from gym class one day, and the guys from the football team were there. Billy Van Der Voort, was telling everybody who would listen that he'd fucked Valerie Glenman, one of the cheerleaders."

"Sounds like standard locker room talk to me, Eddie..." Garrett tried to interrupt, but Eddie continued.

"He bragged about all the stuff they did, how she sucked him and how he stuck it in her ass and her pussy."

"A real charmer, that guy," Garrett quipped, "But what the devil...?" Eddie glared at him as if to say "May I continue?"

"So anyways, everybody knows he's lying, but they don't wanna say boo about it." Eddie beat his breast, "I know he's lying because Valerie is beautiful and nice and she wouldn't do that kind of stuff anybody, let alone the likes of him." Garrett raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, so Billy's a jerk, but I still don't understand what this has to do with Oliver."

"We all knew Billy was lying, but I thought, if I could prove it, people would see him for what he is."

"A real asshole," Garrett interjected.

"A MAJOR asshole!" Eddie declared.

"So how did you go about proving it?" Garrett asked. The tone and meter of his voice had the effect of keeping Eddie on a more even keel, he was shouting a lot less now. Somewhere, beneath the pain in my side, I had a sinking suspicion I knew what Eddie was going to say next.

"I told Billy, in front of everybody, that I knew he was lying about Valerie, and that he shouldn't do that because she's a good girl. He turned on me, and says 'Oh yeah? And how would you know, you little twerp?' So I told him, 'you couldn't have had sex because don't have no skin on your dick yet.' And that's when the whole team started laughing. He got mad, called me a homo for looking at his dick, and beat me up."

I felt like I was going to throw up, I'm certain if I had eaten recently, I would have. Garrett had this look on his face like he was doing a difficult math problem.

"So, wait..." Garrett said, "You think guys grow skin on their dick after they have sex?"

"That's what I USED to think," Eddie said, turning a cold stare toward me. I glanced away and started studying the floor.

"Well where'd you get a stupid idea like that?" Garret asked, incredulously.

I looked up to see Eddie pointing an accusatory finger at me. Garrett's eyes grew wide as he followed Eddie's gaze, to look down at me. I gave a half-hearted smile.

"Oliver?" Garrett asked, "Is that true?" I couldn't raise my eyes to meet theirs. "Ollie?" he asked again.

I shrugged, "it, uhm, seemed funny at the time?" I looked up to see Garrett trying to hide a smirk from Eddie. He recovered himself nicely.

"Oh man, Eddie", he breathed out, "is that what happened? Oliver messed with you a little bit and you took him for gospel truth?"

"HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW?" Eddie howled, "I AIN'T NEVER SEEN NO ANTEATER DICK LIKE HIS BEFORE!"

"Anteater dick?" Garrett snorted, unable to suppress his laughter, he cocked back his head and bellowed. I couldn't help but giggle a little myself, but the sharp pain in my side quickly stopped that.

"STOP IT!" Eddie cried, "IT'S NOT FUNNY!"

"No, you're right," Garrett composed himself once again, "I'm sorry Eddie, it's just that I've never heard somebody with a foreskin described that way before and it made me laugh."

"Well, it does look like that..." Eddie mumbled.

"So now you know better, right?"

"Yeah," Eddie said, "and now the whole fucking football team wants me dead on account of Billy got expelled because of me."

The enormity of what happened to Eddie weighed heavily on me, it seemed like I was responsible for everything. Guilty tears began to fall from my eyes again, spilling down my cheeks. My gasping breaths were made worse by the stabbing pain in my ribs.

"Oliver?" I heard Garrett say, echoing softly over the buzzing in my ears, "You alright? Oliver?"

I couldn't answer him. I couldn't breathe and my head felt all swimmy again. I looked up to see both of their concerned faces as a cloud of shimmering, silvery numbness descended onto my consciousness.data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7

Chapter 44

Categorically, without question, that was probably the shittiest Christmas Eve I have ever endured. By the time I woke up, in a nauseated cold sweat, I found myself lying on my own bed, with nothing on, save for a towel wrapped around my middle. I was surrounded by my very worried looking parents, and my pediatrician seated next to me, my wrist in his hand.

"His pulse is coming back to normal." the doctor said. I tried to speak but my tongue was glued to the roof of my mouth and all I could manage was a gagging retch as a wave of dizziness forced me to shut my eyes again. "Hush, now Oliver," the doctor said, smoothing a cold, damp cloth over my eyes, "Don't try to talk just yet. You've had a pretty big seizure and it's going to take a little while to get all your wires reconnected."

My entire body felt like I'd been washed, wrung out and tumble-dried. The very act of trying to raise an arm or turn my head seemed to require Herculean effort. I heard myself moaning and gave up trying to do much of anything other than just lay there.

"He's got a broken rib, I'm pretty sure," I heard the doctor tell my parents, "How often does he have these seizures?"

"This is the first one he's had since we came back from Newington, Pat," my father told him, "the medication has been keeping them at bay. This is probably the worst one we've seen so far..."

I drifted off as they muttered over me, and I'm not sure exactly how long I slept. When I woke again, it was dark outside my window. I lay there, blinking as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. The weight of my blanket on my chest felt a little uncomfortable but when I tried to throw it off, I found I couldn't move my arm. Confused, I squirmed, only to find my other arm was pinned to my side as well. Turning my head, I found my nose buried in a deep pile of soft hair; Neal was snoring gently, leaned up against me with one hand protectively enclosing my nuts.

My wiggling about awakened Neal, his eyes sparkled in the spare light coming in the room from the dim bulb down the hallway.

"Hey!" he whispered, smiling, "Welcome back to the world!"

"I gotta pee." I mumbled, my voice sounding like sandpaper blocks rubbing together. Come to think of it, that's the way it felt too. Neal swung away and bounced out of the bed, causing a sharp wave of pain to slice through my side; I winced and hissed in a breath.

"Oooh!" Neal cried, "Sorry!" He came around the bed, threw off the covers and gently stood me up with my good arm. I looked down and realized my other arm in a sling which had been splinted to my chest. I must have looked confused. "That's to keep you from bumping your broken rib."

"Broken rib?" I asked, "What the hell happened to me?"

"You don't remember?"

"No, not really."

Truthfully, it would take a little while before the jumble in my brain sorted itself out. For the moment, I just had to trust that it would, eventually. My head throbbed as Neal helped me shuffle into the bathroom. He tugged my briefs down and suggested I sit to pee, which seemed like a good idea. As I sat, another wave of nausea twisted inside of me. Leaning back, I felt the cool porcelain of the toilet tank on my back, and it felt nice. A deep, visceral pain looped its way around my belly and marched toward, what I hoped would be a quick conclusion. Trying to relax, I took a deep, sighing breath of relief as I felt the contents of my bowels rush out in a glorious, fetid torrent.

"Jesus Horatio Hornblower Christ!" Neal exclaimed, pinching his nose and waving the air around his head. Even in my misery, I short laugh burst from my lips. He reached behind me and flushed, I felt the cooling rush of air between my legs, along with the splash of cold water spray as the toilet emptied and refilled. Several more volleys of only liquid poured from me, interposed by noisy, but very satisfying farts. By the time I was certain I was through, my butt hole was stinging and raw, and I found it difficult to wipe in my present condition. Neal, heaven bless him, took a warm, soapy washcloth and gently dabbed at my sore anus. One takes one's joy where one can, I suppose, and at that particular moment in time, getting my sore butt wiped by Neal was probably the best thing he could have done for me.

We returned to bed so I could lay back down. I still felt kind of woozy, and didn't relish the idea of trying to walk downstairs, even though I was starting to feel a little hungry. I mean, I thought I was hungry, but the delicate state of my stomach made me unsure. Mom saved the day by bringing up a steaming bowl of chicken soup and some sandwiches for me and Neal. I didn't touch the sandwich, but the hot soup felt like liquid gold as it soothed my skittish innards. True to his nature, Neal didn't let my sandwich go to waste.

I asked about who was watching the boys, and Neal assured me that my Dad had it covered. Before we settled in entirely for the night, Eddie came to visit, with his father, who graciously let us be, to talk alone.

"Eddie, dude," I sighed, as he sat on the edge of my bed, "I am so sorry."

"S'okay, Oliver," he said softly, "I'm sorry too. You really scared me back there in the wood shed. Does that happen to you a l0t?"

"More than I'd like, which is never," I scowled, not sure I made sense there. "I'm sorry, my talking is still kinda mixed up."

"Never saw that before," he said, almost admiringly, "I know a guy at my school who has seizures, but he never flopped around like you did."

"I flopped around?"

"Like a fish," Eddie nodded, "I thought you were gonna shake apart."

Well, that was new wrinkle, wasn't it? I thought quietly for a moment, worried that maybe my seizures were getting worse, instead of better. What did that mean? Maybe I had a brain tumor or something. My heart sank at the thought, not only was I suddenly afraid of dying, I was scared of leaving Neal all alone. Tears spilled down my face once more.

"Oh no!" Eddie cried out, "What's wrong?"

"I don't wanna die," I sniffled pathetically.

In that moment, my mother appeared at the door, with Eddie's concerned father at her shoulder. Mom rushed over to my side, Eddie stood and let her take his place next to me. Her hand was cool and soft on my cheek as she wiped away some of my tears with her thumb.

"Sweetie, its okay," she soothed, "You're not going to die honey." I leaned into her gentle touch and closed my eyes, heaving a liquid sigh. "Darling, you had a bad seizure, but remember what the doctors said, right? They can be caused by emotional stress, and you were involved in a fight." I nodded my understanding, my eyes drooping. I felt like I really needed to go back to sleep, I didn't have any energy left. I worried that if I pushed too hard, I might have another seizure. I wasn't sure, if it happened again, that I might not come out of it this time.

I sagged against the pillows while mom shooed everybody except Neal out of my room. As she left, she affixed a kiss on my forehead, planted one on Neal too, and then clicked the light off as she left. Neal stood up, stripped down to nothing, and slid, extremely gently this time, into the bed next to me. He laid his head on the pillow next to mine.

"Hey Ollie?" he said in a faint voice.

"Yeah?"

"What's it like?"

"What?"

"You know," he paused for a beat, "when you have one, what do you feel." I sighed into the darkness, my thoughts like wheat chaff scattered in the wind.

"To be honest, I'm not sure I could say. It's a real strange feeling. By the time I figure out something is wrong, the next thing I know I'm waking up and feeling sick with a massive headache."

"You seemed like you were confused when you came to," he observed.

"Yeah," I nodded, "That's the worst part. Even though I'm awake, I'm not really. You ever have a really weird dream and then wake up not knowing where you are, 'cause you feel like you're still in the dream?"

"Sort of," Neal said, "but not really. I usually figure it out pretty quick."

"It's almost as if... "I said slowly, trying to gather my thoughts, "It almost like I'm in another world, on another planet or something, and I'm living another life. Then there's this weird noise and pressure on the back of my neck and boom, I'm back here again and I start to forget who I was in that world, and remember who I am in this one."

"Whoa," Neal breathed, "that's coooool!"

"No it's not," I assured him, "It sucks balls."

"I wonder if it's like being high." Neal ventured.

"Couldn't tell ya," I grunted, "but if it's anything like having a seizure, you can fuckin' have it."

Neal giggled at that. As we lay there, he scooted up close to me again, and caressed my face with the palm of his hand. His warmth soothed the throbbing in my temples and I sighed deeply. Lightly, he ran his fingertips over my face, tracing the vermilion line of my lips, the cleft of my chin, along the angle of my jaw, and eventually, gently rubbing the auricle of my ear. Relaxing under his touch, I began to drift off into a comfortable sleep. The last part that I remember was Neal's hand slowly making its way down my belly and firmly gripping my penis. I know I went to sleep with a smile on my face, that boy is incorrigible. 

Chapter 45

My reappearance among the living for Christmas morning, was just as humiliating and embarrassing as I expected. Neal walked in with me, and all the families gathered around the tree, and seated on the couches, amid piles of torn wrapping paper and demolished boxes, the entire body of guests, rose to their feet and applauded.

Mortified, my face grew hot and my hairline tingled. I smiled gamely, and waved everyone off. Eddie's dad cam bounding over and clapped his hand on my shoulder, causing me to wobble some. With my wing pinned to my side, I still wasn't entirely on point with balance. Neal helped me with my coat, sat me down on one of the couches, and fetched me a hot chocolate. While sipping, Neal helped me to open my presents, since doing so one-handed was kind of tough.

I got a nice assortment of sweaters, a beautiful set of eyepieces for my telescope, including both orthographic and Plössl types. I'd never heard of the Plössl before, and was anxious to try it out. That would have to wait for better mobility on my part.

As I was opening my presents, I noticed Brian Coopersmith standing back, looking doe-eyed and anxious while chewing on his knuckles. He looked like he desperately wanted to come over to me, but was afraid. I winked at him and waved him over, that being all the encouragement he needed, apparently. He bounced over, and practically jumped into my lap, before changing course and plopping down next to me. I gave a little wince from his jostling.

"You okay, Oliver?" he asked in the tiniest of voices.

"I'm good Bri, thanks for asking," I smiled at him. "Do you want to help me open some presents?" Brian nodded vigorously, with his huge, gap-toothed grin. Adorable kid, but braces definitely looked like they might be in his future.

"Here ya go, Coop," Neal said, handing him some of my smaller boxes. Brian tore into them with appropriate gusto, holding up their contents for all to cluck over. Dad got me a set of bow ties, which I'd expressed a passing interest in, I can't even remember exactly when. He remembered though, and the colorful variety meant I'd be well outfitted for a while. Everyone laughed and chuckled as he dramatically tied one around my neck, even though I wasn't wearing a collared shirt. After he finished with a great flourish, all the adults golf-clapped while I turned several shades of red.

Dinner, of course, turned out to be another ordeal. I felt like a helpless twit as Neal hovered. He insisted I sit down while he got my plate for me, cut my meat, and tucked my napkin into my belt (all the while discretely groping my basket under the napkin!). He even managed to scrounge up a straw to put in the tall glass of cold cider.

"Jeepers," said, in my best Jerry Mathers impression, "I could get used to this!"

"Don't," Neal mock growled, all the while grinning, "Just remember when it comes time for me to mess my life up to shit." Of course, all the little kids tittered and giggled at Neal's use of a naughty word; I couldn't help but smile.

All the boys wanted me to sleep with them again in the bunk room. I felt well enough, everyone's cheery well-wishes buoying my strength. I mounted the stairs with an expectant gaggle of young men following me as I made the painful climb. Truth be told, it wasn't THAT bad, and maybe I did make a little bit of a show of it for the benefit of my audience. It was funny, each of the boys tried to do a little something for me to help tuck me in. Several of the little ones gave me pecks on the cheeks, but little Brian Coopersmith planted his directly on my lips. He immediately scrambled up into the bunk above me and peered over, his bright eyes glinting with delight.

"Glad you're back, Oliver!" Brian whispered down to me.

"Coop!" Neal whispered to Brian from his bunk across from me, "Leave poor Oliver alone and go to sleep!" Brian gave a little wave and rolled over. For some reason, I didn't feel particularly sleepy at the moment, but neither did I feel energetic enough to get up and read a book or something. The boys feel asleep around us fairly quickly, but when I looked over, Neal had his head propped up on his elbow, looking at me.

I smiled at him as he slowly got out of his bunk and padded over to me. Kneeling next to my bed, he laid an am across my chest.

"You alright?" he asked in the barest whisper.

"Yeah," I sighed, "you know, you don't have to go to all that trouble to nursemaid me."

"Shaddup," he admonished, "who else do I get to play doctor with?" We both chuckled. Laying his head on my chest, he looked up at me. "What am I going to do with you Oliver?"

"Mmmm," I said, play acting like Marlene Dietrich, "zat depends on vat you vant to do vis me..." I wiggled my eyebrows suggestively and pretended to blow a cloud of cigarette smoke into the air. He put his face down into my blankets to stifle a giggle. Slowly, I felt a hand glide up beneath my blanket, in the vicinity of my hip. I could feel the heat from the palm of his hand as it slid long my abdomen. It came to rest on top of my dick, which responded immediately. Wrapping his fingers around it, Neal began a lazy stroke, slipping the hood slowly back and forth over my crown.

I sighed, looking deeply into his eyes as he looked into mine. Words were superfluous now, there was no need to speak them. I luxuriated in his soft, gossamer touch, feeling the skin on my testicles tighten and relax with each, languid stroke. My dick pulsed strongly in his hand, sending a dollop of clear liquid cascading over this fingers. He rubbed it between his fingers, using it to slick my penis, intensifying the amazing feeling I was already getting. Even though it had only been a little over a day ago that Neal and I had fooled around, I thought sure I was building up to making a prodigious mess when I came. Neal seemed two steps ahead of me. As my breathing quickened, my penis swelled and my balls drew up, he quietly pulled aside the blanket, and suctioned me into his mouth. The air rushed out of me as I struggled to maintain quiet, I did not want the others to wake up. Mighty pulses coursed along my dick, starting from my butt-hole muscle, through to the vibrating shaft. Lightning bolts shot out of my dick as Neal worked his throat to swallow everything I had to offer. Mercifully, he stopped sucking and let me subside in his mouth.

As quiet as I as being, I could still hear my panting breaths reverberate around the little bunk room. I prayed that nobody would wake up to find me with my dick stuck into Neal's face. Luckily, like most, these boys slept the sleep of the dead. Neal let me slip from his mouth and kissed me before pulling up my covers and giving my dick a quick pat. He collapsed into his bunk with a self-satisfied smirk, pulling the covers up to cover his head as he rolled over. I expect he went to sleep as quickly as I did.

The next day, I ordinarily would have helped as nearly three-quarters of the guests packed up and checked out. The remainder would stay through New Year's, most of them being families where the parents were teachers, or who were able to take the whole two holiday weeks off. Lizzy actually ended up with most of her gaggle of little girls staying on, whereas all that was left up on the boys' floor were Eddie, and Brian.

Christmas had fallen on Thursday, so that meant that New Year's would do the same, as it always did. In between, we entertained ourselves by doing things like a bonfire by the lake as we ice skated. Garrett treated us to (very slow) snowmobile rides. We built a meandering toboggan run that ran from the crest of the hill, next to the Lodge, running down to the waterfront, and right out onto the ice for a good stretch. I tried it once, but the bouncing didn't help my ribs at all, so I contented myself with watching.

Most days, we wore poor little Brian out so much, he could barely hold his head up after lunch. His parents took him off to their room where he would sprawl on the bed for about an hour before coming back out, fully recharged and raring to go.

The Monday before New Year's Eve, I'd gone to see the doctor that morning, and he had unstrapped me to see how my rib was doing. After some painful poking and prodding, he declared me sufficiently healed that I could go without having my arm strapped to my side anymore. The increased range of motion felt better, but it was still kind of limited. Doc anchored my busted rib with a couple of strips of medical tape, and then wrapped my chest up in an elastic bandage. He told me I could shower again if I wanted to, making sure I replaced the tape and bandage afterwards. Mom had ordered me new glasses, and because I used a standard, round frame, the optician was able to replace them quickly. By the time I returned home with my mother, able to see once more and use both arms again (mostly), I felt almost whole.

Brian had already gone down for his nap, and I considered that might not be a bad idea myself. I made the climb to the bunk room, and was surprised to see Eddie and Neal there, also taking advantage of some down time.

"Hey Oliver," Eddie said, looking up from a comic book. Neal rolled over and greeted me too.

"Oliver!" he cried out, holding his arms out to me in a mock display of overt affection. Eddie guffawed and watched as I went over to Neal and made a big deal of doing "air kisses" with him.

"Tut tut, young man!" I declared, "Be mindful of my tender body!" Our elaborate greeting done, we both retired to our respective bunks to chill out a bit as Eddie shook his head in bemusement. I tried reading an old issue of "Sky and Telescope", without much luck. Either my eyes hadn't adjusted to the new glasses yet, or I was simply too tired. Pulling off my glasses, I set them down on the table next to me. I closed my eyes and laid the magazine down on my chest.

As I lay dozing, I felt someone's presence next to my bed. I opened my eyes, to see Eddie standing over me.

"Hey Eddie," I said softly, "What's going on?" Eddie looked kind of nervous, rubbing his fingers into the palm of the opposite hand as he looked down at me. He clearly had something on his mind.

"We, uhm..." he started, "we're okay, right?"

"Sure Eddie," I reassured him, "we're good."

"Okay," he said. Neal rolled over and propped his head up on hand to watch.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Uhm, yeah," he stuttered, looking back and forth between Neal and I. "It's just that, uh, I wanted to ask you something." Even though he was about the same height as me, his voice made him sound like a small boy.

"Alright," I shrugged, "go ahead?" Eddie fidgeted some more.

"Uhm, can you tell me more about what it's like having a skin?" I glanced over to Neal, who shrugged, his eyes shining mischievously.

"I guess," I said, unsure where Eddie was going with this, "what do you wanna know?"

"Whelp..." Eddie started, the ice evidently now broken, "Can you feel the skin, or is it just like, I dunno, putting on a rubber?" Neal snickered and Eddie shot him a look.

"Eddie," I said, "I couldn't honestly tell you what putting on a rubber is like, but I mean, I can feel it, it feels like the skin on any other part of your body."

"Just more of it," he said, nodding his head.

"I suppose," I said, "I never really gave it much thought. Hell, I didn't even know other guys didn't have them until I started middle school."

"We've got a couple of guys who are not circa... circ..."

"Circumcised?" I offered.

"That's it!" Eddie said, snapping his fingers, "That's the word."

"Din'tcha ever get a good look at 'em in the locker room, Eddie?" Neal asked.

"Naw!" Eddie grunted, "I already got guys wanting to beat the liver outta me, I ain't gonna do that."

"Well how you gonna ever learn anything if you don't get a close-up look?" My eyes widened as I looked at Neal, I could see he was up to no-good by the smirk on his face and the glint in his eye. I silently tried to will him into remembering what happened the last time we messed with poor Eddie. I surely wasn't keen on repeating the experience.

"I know," Eddie agreed with a heavy sigh.

"Well," Neal said breezily, "You've already seen ours, anyway."

"Yes," he acknowledged, "I mean, it wasn't a close look or anything, just for a few seconds."

An awkward silence fell between the three of us. Eddie seemed like he wanted to say something, but was too nervous. Leave it to Neal to save the day.

"You know what?" Neal said, bounding out of his bunk and grabbing his towel, "I think I need a shower." Eddie and I just kind of looked at Neal, blinking. "Come on Oliver, "he said, "You too, you're starting to kinda stink."

"The heck I do!" I grinned at him, "I do not smell!"

"Come on, Eddie," Neal prodded, pinching his nose, "He'll go if you will, and boy does he need to." Eddie looked at me, looked at Neal, and then back at me before making up his mind. Ducking around the bunks, he grabbed his towel and beat feet down the balcony to the bathroom at the other end.

"You're a piece of work," I chided Neal.

"Hey, listen," he shrugged, "it gets Eddie off the hook for having to come right out and ask to look at our dicks, right? This way he doesn't feel weird about it, he can check us out all he needs to, and it's all good, right?"

"I suppose," I said, dubiously.

Neal took my hand as we walked down to the showers. We didn't have to worry because being on the top tier, even if someone was looking up, the railings would have obscured all but our head and shoulders from view. Neal could have walked with his thumb up my butt and nobody would have known better unless they were walking right behind us. Still, it gave me a naughty thrill to hold his hand so openly as we walked.

In the shower, Eddie was waiting for us, having shucked his clothes. He was already testing the water temperature, before he plunged under it. I looked at Neal, who nodded to me as we both noticed Eddie had taken the center shower head. We split up, taking the shower heads flanking Eddie, and turned them both on.

I slowly turned under the hot water. I set the temperature fairly high, which helped to loosen the tape on my side. Wincing, I pulled off both strips slowly, and let the water cascade over the sensitive skin. It felt good to raise my arm up over my head and stretch, but my body was not shy about telling me when I'd reached its limit.

Eddie was busy shampooing his hair, which looked strange now that it was slicked down around his ears. His slender penis dangled over his generously sized balls. He still didn't have much pubic hair, but he definitely had a starter patch going.

Neal and I took our time showering. We lathered up and rinsed, and made no pretense of displaying ourselves to Eddie. For his part, Eddie also quickly set aside the notion that he "just happened to look". Eventually, he screwed up the nerve to ask me if he could feel mine. I glanced at Neal to see if he was okay with it, but Neal was grinning from ear to ear, he was all in.

"Sure, Eddie," I shrugged, "S'cool." Eddie stepped over and reached out for my penis. I sort of pushed out my hips and watched as he very tentatively, very gently, took my wet penis in the palm of one hand, and ran his fingertips over the top of my foreskin, where you can see the ridge of my glans underneath. It may have been the water evaporating off of me, but I gave a shiver when he did that. We both looked down as Eddie very carefully grasped the rubbery, loose flesh and rolled it around in his fingers.

Neal came around and stood next to us, putting a hand on Eddie's shoulder. Eddie turned and did the same furtive examination of Neal's penis, his eyes wide as he made his inspection.

"Wow," he said admiringly, "that is SO cool."

Naturally, under Eddie's gentle manipulations, my Lieutenant started to stand at attention. I looked down and saw that Neal's had stood up too, and was pretty much at full mast. Eddie, looked down at himself and grinned sheepishly. His slender pencil had gone vertical as well. Eddie pushed my foreskin back and forth over my head a few times, marveling in the way it expanded and contracted. I shuddered, as shivery feelings started to gather in my belly and groin.

"Does that feel good?" he asked, astonished at how my penis was starting to drip and react to his touch. I nodded my head spastically and grunted my approval. I knew I was going to spew soon if he kept that up. "Gosh, I wish I could find out what that feels like..." Eddie said in an awed whisper.

Eddie's voice caught in his throat as Neal reached forward and took Eddie's cock in his hands. Eddie blinked and got a lost, faraway look in his eyes as Neal gently stroked his skinny member. Eddie stopped rubbing my dick, but he didn't release me from his grip. He turned towards Neal, who maneuvered directly in front of Eddie, and then bent Eddie's dick down a little bit where he touched the tips of their penises together. Eddie's knees almost buckled as Neal began to stretch and knead his foreskin so that it slid forward to cover Eddie's head. Eddie tightened his grip on me when Neal did that, sending new waves of pleasure through me.

Neal looked up into Eddie's face, and they both stared into each other's eyes as Neal slowly began working his skin back and forth across both of their distended peckers. Eddie looked deeply into Neal's eyes, a look of heavy-lidded lust, combined with desperate confusion. Neal, for his part, didn't surrender his gaze. They stared intensely at one another.

Eddie's chin turned mottled as he clenched his jaw, the veins in his neck started to distend. Through his teeth, Eddie start making a "hnnng-hnnng" sound, snorting like a draft horse. Neal never let him go, dragging his foreskin back and forth over the tip of Eddie's dick. A study in concentration, the two boys locked eyes once more and started growling and groaning in synchrony. Eddie's grip on my dick was a stranglehold as he and Neal seemed to almost fight each other to each come first.

In the end, we all came at nearly the same time. I threw back my head and let out a long, sighing moan as I fired my semen all over Eddie's hand and thigh. He didn't notice because he was staring down at the action going on between him and Neal, whose hand was a blur over the two, conjoined penises. It was the most intense thing to watch the two of them, grunting and huffing together. The two boys froze, their neck veins standing out, Neal's foreskin ballooned and bulged as he and Eddie each fired their wads. Eventually, their uncoordinated jerking tore them apart, Eddie's rod, slick with their combined juices, slithered out of Neal's tortured foreskin. They both stood there, leaning on each other for support, breathing heavily as spent semen dripped from their quickly deflating cocks.

"Holy shit!" Neal said, chest heaving. Eddie sort of nodded, his reverie seemed to break, and he wandered back under the shower. We all did that, rinsing the evidence of our little "exploration" scene, down the floor drain. Finishing our showers in silence, we dried off, collected our clothes and returned to the bunk room. For myself, I was ready to sleep the rest of the afternoon away. Instead, we were greeted by a clear-eyed, energetic Brian, who was seriously disappointed he'd missed a chance to shower with the big-boys.

I was thinking, "You have no idea, kiddo!"