From: an179397@anon.penet.fi (Stroker Al)
Reply-To: an179397@anon.penet.fi
Date: Tue,  4 Apr 1995 15:18:23 UTC
Subject: Friday 13" #2 SMOOTH OPERATION 1/2 (M/M, M/M, narcissism, forced shaving, bondage, jo, sex)

WARNING: THE FOLLOWING IS A SEXUALLY EXPLICIT FICTIONAL STORY.
DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18, OR IF YOU ARE NOT INTERESTED IN READING
ABOUT SEXUALLY EXPLICIT SITUATIONS AND ACTIVITIES..

To the alt.sex.stories reader:

        This is the second in a series of stories dealing mainly with male
to male sexuality, though the series will contain some male/female sex
and the thoughts, fantasies and activities of bisexual characters as well.

Friday 13" #2 :
Smooth Operation
     By Stroker Al  

	Brad Carson was hands down the hairiest fucker among the entire 
staff of Camp Christopher.  He had a fairly ordinary build, but his 
ever-bronze skin was well-toned and as taught as a painter's stretched 
canvas -- the ideal surface to display the hirsute artistry of the dense 
black fur that covered his chest, belly and thighs and forearms in 
graceful, swirling Van Gogh patterns.   

	Each week dozens of campers developed obvious boyhood crushes on 
him. After one look at him directing canoe paddling practice at the beach 
in nothing but his red Speedos, or hiking with his t-shirt tied around 
his waist, he became their ideal embodiment of manhood simply by virtue 
of his hairiness, like some kind of local Tom Sellack, and they'd respond 
in all kinds of ways, from just following him around like devoted, 
love-starved little brothers and hanging on his every word and movement, 
to even sending him gushy little notes and letters long after they'd 
returned home from their weeks at camp.  

	Though flattered as Brad was by such attention from adolescents 
in their ambiguous early stages of sexual development, he took a much 
greater interest in the equally rapt attentions of his fellow staff 
members, who were considerably more physically and emotionally developed, 
and thus, not only knew damned well what they desired in him but were 
also fully equipped to do something about it.

	By halfway through July he'd drawn more men into bed with him 
than any other counselor, including those with handsomer faces and more 
perfectly sculpted bodies. And lots of the guys he boffed were even 
straight dudes who'd first needed a half dozen beers to loosen up into 
the horny tomcats they were at heart and indulge their savage drives to 
rub dicks with the furry beast while using the coarse mat on his chest as 
a scratching post.   Plus, Brad had also hosed one of the three women on 
staff, while another, the camp director's wife, was starting to show him 
increasing interest.

	Brad loved how everybody had their own way of playing in his 
hair, some open in their fascination with it and others doing their best 
to hide it.  His queer buddies usually ended up jizzin all over it and 
licking it clean with their tongues, which he loved. He'd push their 
faces deep into the cleft between his pecs as they hungrily licked up 
their jock messes.  The babe, who worked as an assistant cook, merely 
fluffed curls of his chest hair with two of her slender red polished 
fingernails as she lay against him in his bunk after screwing.  The 
straight boys, most of whom happened to be relatively smooth, usually got 
off on the totality of his bristly maleness and would grind their whole 
bodies against his, as if they were buffing their own muscles and using 
Brad like a human brush, or as if they were somehow trying to chafe it 
all off of him and transfer it to themselves.  Exhausting as this 
sometimes was, he seemed to like doing those dudes the best. 

	But not everyone in the world, it turned out, was enslaved by 
this incredibly common but unimaginative obsession with this most obvious 
of male secondary sex characteristics.  Brad noticed that there were a 
few attractive and available men on staff who seemed totally indifferent 
to him physically.  At first he assumed that they were just 
super-straight men, but that didn't explain why he couldn't even detect 
any envy in their eyes, which in his experience was often more prevalent 
among other men than attraction towards him.
The shocking truth only occurred to him one morning in July when one of 
these inscrutable men, his cabinmate, Jerome, happened to walk in on Brad 
coming out of a stall in the shower room naked and dripping wet.  

	  "Jeez,  you're hairier than an ape! " Jerome cried as he stared 
for a moment at the fluid waves of black that were wetly plastered all 
over Brad's limbs chest and abdomen.  
	"Yes, I guess I am hairier than you, aren't I?" Brad retorted, 
less in response to Jerome's words than to what sounded like genuine 
disgust in the guy's tone. 
	"No question about that," Jerome smirked, though in a less 
disdainful and more humorous manner.  "I guess not all members of a 
species evolve at the same rate."
	Brad bellowed with laughter as he toweled off.  "Fuck you, you 
hairless wonder.  Don't talk Darwin to me when it's obvious that you're 
just jealous."
	Jerome finished pulling his t-shirt over his head and off before 
shaking  his head and smiling.  "I'm afraid not, Papa Bear.  Why the hell 
would I want any more body hair than I already have? It's a pain in the 
ass as it is."
	"What hair? You don't even have any!" sneered Brad in gleeful 
exaggeration. Jerome in fact had the light scatterings of fine hair here 
and there in amounts that were quite average for men in their early 
twenties.  
	Jerome ignored the comment, revealing no apparent insecurity 
about his own body hair. "What use does it have other than aesthetic?" he 
asked instead.  "I bet it even gets in your way sometimes."
	"Girls love it," Brad said, and then fixed Jerome with a stare. 
"Some guys love it, too," he whispered, leering menacingly.
	"Yeah, well some guys prefer their men smooth," Jerome shot back, 
his lips curling in a taunt that even as it cleared up for Brad the 
mystery of Jerome's sexual leanings, made it just as clear that Brad had 
no chance of ever getting him into bed.
	"Yeah sure. Well, everybody's gotta work with what they've got," 
Brad muttered, secretly rather downtrodden by Jerome's remarks.  He 
wasn't used to being rejected, even if only by implication.  
	He watched absently under his towel as Jerome shrugged and 
continued to undress for his shower.  Brad was unaware that his 
promiscuity and pride were even then conspiring to create a new obsession 
in the rather appealing yet inaccessible male form that was now stripping 
buck naked in front of him.  Jerome had a meaty, swinging dick that hung 
low over a set of ample pink balls, surrounded by a wreath of curly light 
brown bush hair.  His thighs were thick and strong looking, while his 
calves were light and graceful.  His chest was filled out and firm, and 
he had strong looking arms.  In total, he was very hot to look at -- a 
fact that Brad was only now fully realizing after having spent his energy 
elsewhere while sharing a cabin for two weeks with a guy who under his 
very nose had been among the hottest in the camp all along.  Of course 
they were sharing the space with four other guys, most of whom were quite 
distractingly good looking themselves, but now, as he watched the naked 
stud saunter off to the showers Brad couldn't fathom how Jerome could 
have escaped his full attention for so long. His tight little rounded ass 
looked especially fine as he whistled his way into the shower room.  

	Brad dressed and listened to Jerome showering and whistling , and 
he imagined how those tight, smooth ass cheeks would feel gripped in his 
hands -- or gripping his dick!  Jerome was still showering and whistling 
when Brad left, the image of his cabinmate's buns burning in his brain.  
The wooden door creaked behind him and shut.  

 	Inside, at the opposite end of the shower room was a row of 
toilet stalls, one of which had been occupied throughout the guys' 
conversation, though neither had noticed. If they'd looked, they could 
have seen a pair of black tennis shoes under a pair of worn blue jeans 
pulled down and bunched around two sturdy ankles and calves.    If Jerome 
had not been whistling and running the shower water, the slappy sound of 
a big fat hard dick being stroked inside the stall could have been 
heard.  
	The guy jacking off inside began breathing harder and harder and 
jerking away until he gasped and squirted jets of hot spermy semen out of 
his erect dick and splattered the dirty pictures and obscenities carved 
into the wooden walls, now wet with the creamy cum of a Camp Christopher 
legend.  But it wasn't the graffiti that made this horny prick toss his 
rank, crawly wad.  It was an idea he'd suddenly come up with while 
thinking about those dirty minded queer boys who'd let a little thing 
like hairiness prevent them from hosing each other down the way they were 
born to do.   He'd thought of a way to bring their bare hides together 
and get them to make the beast with two backs all night, and maybe every 
night for the rest of the summer, if all went well.


	Brad was showering again the next day at about the same time, in 
the subconscious hope that Jerome would follow a similar routine.  They'd 
made small talk last night in the cabin, which assured Brad that there 
was no real anger or disdain coming from Jerome toward him, but it was 
clear that the dude remained unimpressed with the prospect of balling 
with a twenty-two year old "daddy" type.  So the suddenly self-conscious 
Brad had hopped into bed wearing a t-shirt and shorts for the first time 
that summer instead of doing his usual naked strut from the clothes 
basket to his bunk.  He had  licked his lips and sighed while watching 
Jerome reach up to pull the cord to extinguish the light, stretching his 
impressive frame, wearing only his handsomely stuffed blue bikini briefs, 
packed as they were with that fine set of dick and balls that had sadly 
been decreed off limits to hairy dudes.

	As Brad soaped his chest and his chubby up with lather and 
dreamed about Jerome, he suddenly recognized the same whistling he'd 
heard yesterday.  Ah, he was going to get another chance to see the hunk 
in the raw, and this time with water streaming across the fine smooth 
curves of his muscles.  And this time Brad would be in there with him,  
exposed in his horny hairiness and now with a major woody that would let 
this dude know how badly he was wanted by him.  Unwilling to bear certain 
rejection, Brad sighed and resolved to face away from Jerome and merely 
try to sneak a good look at him at some point and hopefully be content 
with that.

	He continued to soap himself as the whistling grew louder and 
entered the communal shower stall.  He closed his eyes and shoved both 
hands down into his soapy crotch to keep his stiff dick from poking up 
into the air and exposing him to ridicule.  To his surprise, Jerome's 
whistle seemed to be coming nearer and nearer to him.  For a moment the 
wild notion came to him that Jerome had been lying all along and was 
secretly attracted to him.  But the dude had definitely not been faking, 
he remembered.  So what was this all about, he wondered as the whistle 
sounded directly behind him, only inches from the back of his neck. Brad 
fought all of his instincts to turn around and confront Jerome, and kept 
facing the corner, dripping with hot shower water and soapy lather.

	Suddenly the whistle stopped and two powerful arms gripped his 
biceps from behind, making him gasp.  A strange voice that was definitely 
not Jerome's spoke.
	"Don't move, fucker, or y  r dead." 
	Brad's eyes flashed open but the iron grip of the man behind him, 
which prevented him from raising his arms, induced him to keep looking 
straight ahead.  As he stood there stiffly, he felt the large naked frame 
of the man behind him press against him, a hard chest, a big, soft dick 
and big balls against his ass.  Then, when he saw the shiny metal object 
out of the corner of his eye, being held up in one of the man's hands,  
he thought the worst--that he was gonna get fucked up the ass there in 
the shower by this thug, and he wasn't even in prison, and he hadn't even 
dropped the soap! And then the opened, sharp-looking razor appeared in 
front of him, at the level of his neck.
	"No. No, damn it, Don't you even think about it," he hissed. 
"You'll never get away with this, you fuckin' pig, if you think you're 
gonna fuck me and live..."
	"Who said anything about fucking? I'll leave that to you boys," 
the voice answered.  I'm here to give you a shave, partner.  Now hold as 
still as you can or you'll get cut to ribbons!"
	"A shave? I already shaved this morning, you fucking lunatic! Let 
me go!"
	"I think you missed  a few spots, Brad," said the voice. "Some 
very big patches, actually. Like right here !"  And then, as Brad 
attempted a strangled cry of terror, the man brought the razor down 
firmly just under Brad's neck and scraped the blade downward from Brad's 
clavicle, down his right pec, down stomach and abdominal muscles, coming 
to rest finally just at the top of his bush, over the root of his dick. 
"You see what I mean, Brad? Look at all this hair!" 
	The hand raised the blade back up in front of Brad's face and he 
watched as large soapy clumps of black hair fell off the edge of the 
blade and splatted audibly onto the shower floor, before being whisked 
apart by shower spray and swept toward the drain.
	"What the fuck are you doing?" he cried.  "Who are you? And how 
do you know my name?"
	"Never mind, fucker, just hold still."  The blade scraped down 
Brad's frontside again, this time on his left.  He looked down to see 
huge swathes cut through his forested chest and stomach,  exposing 
surfaces of skin that hadn't been fully bare since 7th grade.  He looked 
like a lawn that had been mowed by a drunken neighbor boy.   
	"My chest! My chest! " he wailed. "You moron, you're making it 
look ridiculous! It'll take months to grow that back!  Why are you doing 
this, you pervert!  Did Jerome send you?" 
	The man laughed. "Nobody sends me, pal.  I call the shots around 
here.  I ain't saying the guy won't like what he sees, but the truth is 
he don't know nothing about me.  Now raise both your arms. Up high."

	Brad did as he was told and watched helplessly as the man 
proceeded to make a number of smaller, shorter sweeps of the blade down 
and around the contours of his nervously heaving chest and stomach. He 
felt like crying to see his beautiful black hair, his pride and symbol of 
his manhood, falling away from his body in streams of soapy water.  He 
held his breath as the razor deftly circled his nipples, one after the 
other, stripping them of their bushy camouflage leaving them a naked, 
tender pink that struck Brad as shockingly feminine.  

	Then he felt a movement between his legs and looked down to see 
what appeared to be a second penis emerging between them underneath his 
balls.  Obviously it belonged to the man, but even having come from 
between Brad's legs it protruded a good 6 or 7 inches -- as long as 
Brad's entire hose! 
	"Hey, I thought you said you weren't gonna..."
	The man laughed. "Sorry, pal. Don't mind my dick.  I'm really 
gettin' into this, though, you know?  I didn't realize shaving a guy's 
hair off was gonna turn me on like this.  You oughta try it sometime, bud."
	"No thanks," grumbled Brad.
	"It don't do nothing for ya? Funny, I don't notice you going limp 
or anything. "
	Brad didn't say anything.  He was feeling so humiliated by the 
idea of the shaving that he couldn't deal with any possible pleasant 
physical sensations that might have been accompanying the loss of his hair.
	It was true that he was harder than ever, but he was also quite 
upset. He hadn't realized the extent to which he'd pegged his concept of 
masculinity and his sexual appeal onto his hairiness. 
	He looked down at the man's dick head, bobbing up and down just 
beneath his own, and saw that it had the number 13 tattooed on it.  It 
reminded him of some bullshit story he'd heard once around a campfire, 
but he dismissed the thought as soon as it had come.  Suddenly the razor 
was withdrawn and Brad felt the man's dick just as suddenly pull back out 
from between his legs.
	"Okay Brad, spread yer legs apart and bend over.  Grab onto yer 
ankles and hold yourself in that position 'til I finish."
	"No way, man," Brad hissed. "Why should I?"
	"Look, pal. Yer gonna hafta bend over for me for one purpose or 
another before I let you outta here, but the choice is still yours.  You 
wanna get shaved or fucked?" 
	"Neither, damn it!" Brad grumbled.  Then, in resignation,  he 
slowly slid his legs apart and bent forward to seize both of his ankles.  
	"Good man." said the guy.  Brad watched him crouch down behind 
him and run the razor carefully down the insides and outsides of his 
thighs and calves, denuding them as completely as if he had been grooming 
Brad for a professional bike race.  He also removed a thick patch of hair 
from the small of his back, just above his ass. Throughout this process 
the man had frequently soaped up Brad's skin to insure a smooth, cut-free 
shave.  Despite himself, Brad enjoyed the feel of the man's soapy fingers 
on his skin, and he felt his dick throb each time. 
	Soon the only hair that remained on Brad's body below the neck 
was his bush, the hair on his ass and the hair on his balls. The man had 
even done his armpits and forearms.  
	"Now hold extra still, Brad," he cautioned as he slipped the cool 
steel razor between Brad's ass cheeks.  Brad's asshole pucker spasmed 
nervously, but after only a couple tingling scrapes of the razor, the 
crack of his ass was as smooth as on the day he was born.
Seconds later the entire surface of his white ass was as bald as Yul 
Brynner's head.  "Okay, now stand up and lemme look at ya."
	Brad stood up, his face still red from the blood that had rushed 
to it while bending over. He faced the man with the 13" dick and they 
took good long looks at one another.  
	"Not bad. Not bad at all.  Looks like I got pretty much 
everything," the man said, stroking his own dick with one hand and 
holding the razor down at his side with the other. "Though you might have 
to touch up a few spots yourself."
	Not bad  was what Brad was thinking, too, but not about his own 
appearance (he wasn't ready to deal with that yet).  He was admiring the 
good looks (if a little ragged) of the mysterious older stud in front of 
him, who, if he hadn't made him so angry, he would have thoroughly 
enjoyed hosing. 
	Brad felt the completely smooth surfaces of his freshly shaved 
skin with his fingertips for the first time.  He guessed that he looked 
bizarre. "Well aren't you just fucking generous, you pervert!" he hissed.
 	"That's me, buddy boy.  And believe me, I done worse than this 
here before," the man grinned, still leisurely pumping his stiff salami.
	"What else did you do, big man, rape some poor schmuck after 
threatening him with your fuckin razor blade ? Well you can fuck 
yourself, asshole!" Brad cried.
	The man laughed.  "How'd you know I can fuck myself? Have you 
been spyin' on me, ya little devil?  Well, ya shouldn't blame me, ya 
know, 'cause it gets kind lonely up here in the winter, and ya find 
yourself doing all kinds of crazy things to get off. "
	Brad blinked and seethed in anger, but said nothing.
	"Naw, seriously, buddy, I was bluffin' about screwin' ya," the 
man went on. "I wouldn't a said nuthin if ya hadn't brought it up first. 
I never fuck nobody unless they really want it.  And even then, they 
gotta beg me to do it," he said, shaking his enormous cock at Brad, " 
'cause this here's a more dangerous weapon than any razor."  
	 Then he grinned again, as if struck by a fresh idea,  and, to 
Brad's astonishment,  handed the razor to him.  "Now let's see what kinda 
man you are when the razor's in your hand," he said.
	Brad stared at the razor with his jaw open, then looked back at 
the man, who stretched his arms above his head and shifted his weight 
onto one leg to imitate the languid, contraposto pose of a Greek statue.  
"You're fucking crazy," Brad murmured.
	"Yessir, ah am.  And how 'bout you, are you a little crazy, too? 
Or a lot?" he taunted mildly, his eyes twinkling.  "Whatcha  gonna do 
with that thing,  slice mah tits off?  Slide the blade up mah ass? Slash 
my throat?  Castrate me? Chop mah big weenie down ta size?" 
        Brad stepped over to the man, gripping the razor.  He looked his 
hunky form over from head to toe, completely undecided about what to do. 
The guy was hairy, but not nearly as much as Brad had been.  Shaving him 
wouldn't give him the satisfaction of payback that he craved.  
	Then his eyes settled on the man's bush--thick, dark and wiry, 
framing the wrist-thick root of his jutting dick.  He reached back to the 
shower caddy that he'd been using and grabbed his bar of soap and tossed 
it to the man, who caught it in one hand.
	"Lather up your bush," Brad ordered. 
	 The man nodded, stepping into the flow of the shower to wet 
himself.  "Sounds like mah pubes are history, huh?" he said, lathering 
his crotch.  
	Brad nodded. "I'm gonna pussify you, fucker!"  
	The man laughed and stepped out from under the water and 
approached Brad, putting his hands back up over his head and bracing his 
legs slightly apart. His big rod bobbed up and down when he stopped in 
position.  Brad cautiously knelt on one knee and gently pushed the huge 
dick forward and held it out of the way before placing the razor against 
the man's soapy bush.  Then he scraped the blade slowly downward and 
watched the thick brown tufts of hair separate from the man's skin.  
After only five or six passes of the blade, the man's bush was totally gone.
	 "Huh. Now my rat's bald," he chuckled. "Well that's a new one 
for me, Brad   You're mighty handy with that razor.  Gonna be a barber 
some day?"
	Brad stared at the sculpted, smooth flesh below the man's navel 
that he'd just completely exposed to the air.  Shorn of pubic hair but 
with the rest of his body intact, the man looked freakish, like some 6th 
grader on steroids.  With a few flicks of the blade, Brad had made a full 
adult stud resemble a prepubescent kid -- however enormously hung a kid 
he was. 
	Brad relished the thrilling feeling of the control he had 
exercised.  It made his dick stiffen, and prompted him to grip the man's 
dick in response, feeling its girth for the first time. "A barber -- 
that's a good idea," he said, rising to his feet.  "And you're my first 
customer.  You've had your shave, and now it's time for your haircut."
	With a sparkle in his eyes the man began rubbing Brad's shoulder 
and flexing his dick, which Brad continued to stroke with his fist.  "A 
little off the top, eh, partner?  Guess I'm 'bout due for a trim."
	Brad reached up and grabbed a handful of the man's tangled mop of 
black hair.  "I'm gonna give you more than a trim, Zeke.  It's all coming 
off.  Just like your bush, pal. Every strand.  Now kneel down ."
 	The hunk hesitated. looking Brad in the eye to make sure he was 
serious. "You really gonna make me bald? With that?" he laughed. 
	Brad nodded. "On your knees. Now." 
	The man laughed again, a bit nervously. "Aw, what the hell, this 
oughta be wild, " he finally said, dropping to his knees on the concrete 
floor in front of Brad and tilting his head forward.  
	Brad yanked the man's head back by a thick lock of hair, as if he 
were a savage preparing to scalp a captive. Then he hacked off the lock 
with a sweep of the razor. The man blinked and gazed up at Brad with 
intensified lust. "You can be a rough son of a bitch, can't you?"
	Brad continued hacking away at the man's mane, reducing it to a 
soapy carpet of short nappy brown clumps.  As Brad cut away his hair, the 
man ran his strong hands up and down Brad's newly smooth legs and played 
with his balls and dick.  Brad thrilled at the sensation and had to stop 
him a number of times.  
	"You'd better knock that off or I'm going to nick your skull," he 
warned.  Then he grabbed a bottle of shampoo and lathered the ragged 
remains of the man's head hair into a foamy helmet. Then he ordered the 
man to bend his head forward and began to shave his scalp clean with the 
razor.  Frequently he had to clear away cuttings  by dashing handfuls of 
water from the shower over the man's head, causing his victim to splutter 
and  gasp as the soapy water and hair washed down over his face, and into 
his eyes and mouth. 

	Fifteen minutes later Brad was finished.  Disengaging himself 
from the man's roving hands, he stood back, smiling triumphantly to look 
at his work.  "Now  the rat's really bald, " he grinned. The man knelt 
there looking up at Brad like a sheep that had just been shorn, his head 
now as hairless as his crotch.   "How bad do I look?" he asked. 
	Brad answered truthfully, "Not bad at all.  Kinda hot, really. 
Better than before, in any case." He went over to his dopp kit and 
withdrew a hand mirror.  "Look for yourself"
	The man looked doubtfully in the mirror, saying "Huh," over and 
over as he turned it to get a glimpse from every  angle.   brad came back 
to him and began to rub the skin of his head and crotch where he had 
shaved the man. The man put down the mirror and turned to Brad in a soapy 
embrace.  
	  They began jacking each other freely and energetically. The man 
bent his head down to kiss and lick the newly smooth surface of Brad's 
chest and tits, causing Brad to feel sensations unlike anything he'd ever 
felt before.  All that hair had dulled the sensitivity of his skin, it 
seemed.  His nipples got hard instantly with the touch of the bald man's 
hot tongue.
	Then Brad pushed him back down to his knees and started to 
massage his naked scalp with his dick and balls. The man licked at his 
still-hairy nuts while Brad pushed his dick against his face again and 
again. Outside someone was banging on the doors to get into the shower, 
but the man had apparently locked it.  He and Brad ignored the cries and 
continued their razor boy face off.
	"Got a donation for ya, you countrified 'hairless krishna,' if 
you want it. You want me to squirt a generous wad of my dickwax onto your 
hot dome, so I can polish it up nice and shiny? Eh, fucker? Whaddaya 
say?" Brad panted, his breath shortening with excitement as he jacked his 
dick furiously against the man's face. 
	The dude was pumping his own salami like mad as well. "You talk 
big, pal," he gasped, "but let's see some real jizz come outta that pea 
shooter.  Cover my fuckin' head, buddy. C'mon, spew!"
	"You want it? Okay, you asked for it. Here it comes, Kojack. Look 
out, man here--it--comessssssss--uhhhh!!!" Brad sputtered as he finally 
began to pump great jets of spermy spunk all over the man's shaved bald 
head. Brad gasped in pleasure as he watched the thick gloppy wads of his 
come dribble down on all sides of the stud's head and fall upon his ears, 
eyelids nose and lips.  He slammed his throbbing prick hard against the 
bald head and flopped it around in the splashy, sticky flood of come, 
jacking himself even more with the slick man-slopped natural lube that 
was shooting out of his prick.  Finally, exhausted, he fell back on to 
his ass on the shower floor and sat, trying to catch his breath.  But in 
a flash a hot wet cannonball of an object smashed into his chest and 
knocked him down into a supine position on the cool, wet concrete.  It 
was the dude's spooged up head, of course, rubbing him down like a big 
bottle of roll-on deodorant.   Brad writhed with unheard of sensations as 
the smooth, rounded head ground slimy jizz into his hairless skin.  His 
tits perked up and tingled as they got tweaked like pinball bumpers.   He 
felt the dude's king-size prick  rutting against his chest and belly and 
he grabbed it to pump and help him along.  Within a minute or two, the 
dude was tossing his lava load all over Brad and sliding around in it on 
top of him like they were hot oil wrestling or something.  Cocks 
crashing, balls banging, pecs grinding, and quarts of hot sex juice 
squirting out from between their hot sweating bodies like excess secret 
sauce on a big Mac when you slam its bun down. 
	As the two dudes lay panting on one another under the stream of 
the shower, the bald one with the now hairless dick picked up the razor 
that had long ago dropped from the other's hands.  "There's just one more 
thing you're gonna have to let me do," he said to Brad, holding the 
gently below his chin to show that he meant business.
	"What's that?" asked Brad.
	"Get dressed and come with me and I'll show you,"  he replied.


Friday 13"  #2
Smooth Operation
     By Stroker Al

(part 2 or 2)

	An hour later, Jerome approached the door to his cabin, fresh 
from his shower.  He'd had to wait a long time for it because some clod 
or clods-- whose identity he never discovered-- had locked him out of the 
shower room.  He'd banged on the door and waited around for twenty 
minutes or so, but then had given up and gone to the canteen for a Pepsi 
and to relax on the beach.  Twenty minutes or so after that he'd returned 
and found the shower room unlocked and empty, but pungent with the 
distinct smell of jockspunk.  Obviously he'd almost caught two buddies 
boffing in there and they'd waited him out so they could escape 
unidentified. 
	The image of two horny fellow camp staffers tossing each other 
off in there had made his dick instantly stiff, and the manseed scent had 
intensified the turn on to the point that he found himself stroking his 
thick pink meat as he showered.  But he'd stopped before coming because 
it was Saturday, and he was hoping to score tonight, and wanted to be 
armed with a full tank of dick cream in case he would get the opportunity 
to shoot it all over or inside some lucky guy.
	
	Now Jerome pulled on the doorknob to open the cabin door.  It 
didn't come as easily as it usually did, almost as if someone were 
holding on to the inside knob. As the inside of the door swung into view 
he saw that a slender rope had been attached to the knob and that his 
action of opening the door was pulling it taught.  Looking up and deep 
into the cabin, he saw that the other end of the rope had been tied 
around the corner of a bed sheet, which was being tugged off of a bunk 
through the force of the door opening.

	The sheet furled up and then onto the floor, revealing something 
lying on the bunk.  Once he realized what it was, Jerome impulsively shut 
the door behind him to keep anyone else from possibly seeing the view 
that he now beheld.  Stretched out before him was the attractive form of 
a young man lying buck naked and spread eagled on the bunk.  "Holy shit," 
Jerome said out loud.
	Who was this dark, slim and hot-looking fellow sprawled out on 
Brad Carlson's bunk.  Was he some visiting trick? Or maybe his little 
brother?  He did, after all, resemble Brad in the face, but he had none 
of that fuckin' fur all over him.  Thank heaven, thought Jerome, because 
though he wasn't pumped up much, this dude's body was fine and delectable 
and worth showing off.  
	As he stepped closer he saw that the stud's wrists and ankles had 
been lashed to the corners of the bed frame with the same kind of slender 
rope that had been tied to the door.  The dude was looking up at Jerome 
but not saying anything.  There was something blue stuffed in his mouth.  
Jerome reached between the guy'  s lips and pulled out a bunched up pair 
of blue bikini briefs.   
	The face of the guy, no longer distorted by the mouthful of 
briefs was instantly recognizable as none other than Brad.  "Thanks 
Jerome. Now please untie me." he gasped.
	Puzzled, Jerome looked at Brad's face, then at his smooth body 
and finally at the balled up briefs in his hand, which looked oddly 
familiar to him, though darkened as they now were with Brad's saliva.  He 
glanced around at his duffel bag leaning along the opposite wall and saw, 
sure enough, that the very pair he'd worn yesterday and that he'd tossed 
into the top of the bag were no longer there. They had been in Brad's 
mouth and were now in his hand. 
	"What are you waiting for Jerome, untie me, damn it!" Brad cried, 
straining at the ropes.  His struggling made his semi-soft dick flop to 
one side of his groin.
	"What happened to you man? You're totally hairless now.  You look 
like a Greek statue." Jerome said, staring at Brad's firm, shapely and 
bronzed flesh.
	"Never mind that, just get me untied!" Brad snapped.
	"Wait a minute, now, I want to know who did this to you.  And 
what were you doing with my underwear stuffed into your mouth?"
	Brad glared at Jerome but then stopped struggling.  He was going 
to have to tell Jerome something, but the truth, he thought, was too bizarre.
	"Some of the guys did it to me.  They were jealous of how hairy I 
am."  
	"How hairy you were," corrected Jerome glancing at Brad's big 
round pink nipples, which he had never seen before. 
	"They ganged up on me and dragged me in here, tied me up and 
shaved all my hair off of me.  They gagged me with your briefs to shut me 
up, obviously. Now will you please untie me?"
	Jerome looked him in the eyes and smirked. "I don't believe a 
word of it. None of these guys are fuckin' jealous of you.  A lot of them 
thought you were hot for some reason I couldn't figure out, but I can't 
believe anyone would have gone to the trouble to shave your whole body 
out of spite."
	"Well just look at me, damn it!  Aren't I living proof?"
	"I am looking at you," Jerome replied, reaching over and tracing 
the curve of Brad's left pec with a fingertip. "And I can see that you're 
lying.  You shaved yourself because you decided you wanted to be smooth 
and now you're trying  to make it look like somebody else did it against 
your will."
	"That's nonsense," cried Brad. "What gives you an idea so 
ridiculous as that?  Why the hell would I want to make myself look like a 
hairless pussy?"
	"Well, first of all, nobody shaved you in here.  There's not a 
speck of hair anywhere."  Jerome paused to nudge the hard tip of Brad's 
left nipple with his finger.  "But there is  plenty of hair clogging up 
the drain in the floor of the shower room. You locked yourself in there 
and after shaving it all off you got so turned on that you jacked off all 
over the place, didn't you? "
	Brad just stared at him, looking like he would burst in with a 
denial at any second, but just listened, seemingly oblivious to the 
steady hardening of his cock. "That was me trying to get in.  When I 
finally did get in I could smell your jizz in the air.  And as for why, 
well, it's pretty obvious that you did it for me, after the things I said 
about your hairiness."
	"What? Are you crazy! I would never--"
	"You thought that you could get me into bed with you if you made 
yourself smooth, the way I like my men." Jerome said.  "Well you were 
absolutely right, you horny fucker.  You look so fuckin hot to me right 
now that I could almost eat you alive."  He bent his head down and licked 
at Brad's tit's, making him gasp.  "You were thinking about doing me 
while you were jacking off in there, weren't you?"
	Brad had the look of desperation like someone caught in a lie, 
but there was clearly something else going on as well, though Jerome 
couldn't have said what.  "So how did I get here all tied up and gagged, 
huh?" he asked, almost as if he didn't know the answer himself.
	"Look at this rope," Jerome smiled, tugging at the one binding 
Brad's left wrist. "It's only tied in a slip knot.  You set the sheet and 
door and stuff up, tied your ankles and your other wrist, pulled the 
sheet up and had this rope looped and ready for your hand to slip into."
	"Oh yeah, well What about the gag?" murmured Brad, not 
considering that Jerome couldn't have known that Brad had been gagged 
last of all. And Jerome would certainly never find out about how the bald 
man had searched the room for the perfect object to stuff into his mouth, 
and how when he'd discovered Jerome's briefs he'd scrunched his nose into 
them and inhaled and then laughed out loud just before carefully plugging 
up Brad's mouth with them.  Brad hadn't quite understood what the bald 
guy had found so funny about the bikinis until they'd been in his mouth 
long enough to become saturated with saliva and the tastes began to flow 
freely through his mouth.
	"Oh yes, my  little cotton 'jawbreakers'. By the way, I'm sure 
they clued you in on my secret, didn't they?  How every night I 
discreetly jack off into my underwear to muffle the sound and keep the 
guys from detecting the smell of jizz, " he grinned.  "It  never occurred 
to me to try to hide the taste of it!   So how was it? Good, I hope 
'cause that was one hell of a big messy wad I blew in them last night."
	Brad's face blushed a deep red, but he couldn't think of anything 
to say.
	"Well, for all I know you could have been munchin' on my Jockeys 
during the whole time you were arranging everything else.  'Cause the 
fact is, you could have spat these things out anytime you wanted to, 
they're small enough.  But you didn't want to, did you?" Jerome teased as 
he caressed Brad's lips and chin.  "You liked eating my dick drippings."
	Brad sighed and looked at Jerome. "You're right.  I loved chewin' 
on your cool blue bikinis and sucking your funky dried jizz and the sweat 
from your balls and dick right out of your used underwear.  I want to 
make it with you so bad, I faked the whole thing just like you said.  NOW 
WILL YOU PLEASE UNTIE ME?"  
	Jerome grinned at him, thinking how strange this 
bear-turned-buffed beauty was, still sounding like a liar even when he 
was admitting the truth.  "What if I wanna do you just like this, all 
tied up?" he asked, devilishly.
	"Well, I couldn't stop you now, could I?" replied Brad.  But I'll 
tell you that once you untie my hands they're gonna be all over you and 
that luscious dick of yours, and once you feel that I guarantee you'll 
never regret it. "
	"Okay, I'll untie you, " said Jerome, walking over to his 
belongings across the room. "But there's something I have  to do first 
before you're totally out of my control."
	"Fuck, you're worse than him," sighed Brad.
	"Who?" asked Jerome, as he fished through his dopp kit.
	"Oh, uh, nobody," Brad said quickly. "Just hurry it up, please, 
buddy.  I want you so bad"
	Jerome returned with a large bottle of Pierre Cardin aftershave.  
"Close your eyes now, Brad, and brace yourself.  This is gonna feel 
incredible, like nothing else you've ever felt before."
	Brad clenched his eyelids together in anticipation. He'd always 
loved the cool blast of heat from his own aftershave.  Jerome poured 
nearly half the bottle out into his cupped hand and then flung the liquid 
at Brad's chest and neck and face.  Brad felt instantly as though he had 
been doused in lighter fluid and set on fire.  What was normally a fairly 
mild sensation on his rough facial skin felt like a blast furnace on his 
tender tits, and chest.  He screamed once, mostly from shock but also 
from the sudden burning pain.  His pink tits darkened and rose up hard as 
pebbles, as his cock stood up straight in the air. Jerome's hands 
suddenly pressed against his reddening chest and rubbed the liquid out 
over the rest of his body--his arms and legs, even his dick and balls, 
which also began to sting and redden.  Then as soon as the fire had come 
it was gone, and in its place was the cool rush of the alcohol 
evaporating on his skin, which tingled and dried and became even 
smoother.  "Ah. Yesssss," he sighed, shivering with the thrilling 
sensation, and tugging at all his ropes at the same time.  When he 
finally relaxed with the cool, dry reclosing of his pores, he opened his 
eyes to see Jerome stripping off his shirt and pants, his yellow bikinis 
bulging with the thick pink pole that was sticking out of the waistband 
and pointing skyward.  Then they were off too, and Jerome's prick was 
swinging free.  Jerome leaped onto the bed and slammed his whole body 
down on top of Brad's.  He crammed his tongue into Brad's protesting 
mouth and ground his whole body against his, the way the straight boys 
liked to do.  As he tongue wrestled with Brad he began to make good at 
last on his promise, and untied Brad's wrists, one after the other.  As 
soon as Brad's powerful hands were free, they were lifting Jerome's chest 
upward and pulling their faces apart.  "My ankles. Get them now"
	Jerome swiveled so that he was now straddling Brad backwards as 
he worked at the ropes that secured Brad's feet.  Brad's hands squeezed 
Jerome's ass, hips, and stomach and he used them to pull himself up into 
a sitting position behind Jerome.  Then he seized Jerome's plump dick and 
swollen balls.  The second his feet were free, Brad encircled Jerome with 
his arms and threw him face down on the bed. Then he began to rut his 
whole body against Jerome's like an animal in heat, his dick nestled flat 
between Jerome's ass cheeks.  Jerome then managed to turn over, and he 
yielded to Brad's full frontal assault. Brad's dick slammed repeatedly 
against his own, his hard tits were rubbing his own raw, and his thighs 
were thrashing against his own like huge sea lions humping their mates on 
the beach.  Jerome extended his arms and legs to the corners of the bed, 
pretending he was tied the way Brad had been.  Brad humped him totally, 
now invading Jerome's mouth with his willing, ready tongue.  
	Brad could feel absolutely everything now.  His whole nearly 
hairless body was like a huge, incredibly sensitive sex organ that was 
totally fucking Jerome's.  He felt the incredible, unprecedented 
sensation of this other man's light tuft of chest hair tickling his 
sternum.  He loved the feeling so much that he thought for a second that 
Jerome didn't have enough of it to satisfy him.  But as he roughly licked 
at Jerome's light brown thatch he realized that what made it feel so good 
was the response of his own body.  Later he would find it funny that he 
couldn't decide whether or not he wanted all of his hair back for the 
pleasure of other guys, or whether he wanted to keep his chest this 
receptive to the feel of someone else's. 
	"We're bodyfucking, stud!" cried Jerome.  "C'mon and slam me 
harder.  Rub my dick raw with your hot prick."   
	"Rock me, Jerome," panted Brad. "Rut my fuckin' nuts off.  Grip 
my ass and gimme a push."  They mashed their faces together again and 
tongued out each other's throats.  One of their firm hands grabbed the 
nearest lube -- Brad's sun tan oil --  and squirted the whole fucking 
bottle out between their grinding stomachs, gushing over and around the 
two men's hard cocks, making them slick as pistons running up and down in 
a hot racing engine.  They slicked up their hands in the hot oily mess 
between them and started twisting each other's tits off like keys in the 
ignition of a hot car.  Brad slid foreword to stradle Jerome's waist and 
sat up, reaching down to tug at both of Jerome's tits simultaneously, and 
watch the face of his new fuck buddy as his body writhed beneath him.  
"Yeah, man pull on those titties, " said Jerome. "Turn 'em blue.  Oh, yeah."
	Jerome grabbed Brad's cock as it hovered over his chest and 
started jacking it, pointing it straight toward his chin and licking it 
in between strokes. "Hose me down, buddy," he murmured.  "I want your 
jockmess on my chest and in my face.  I want to taste your fucking dick 
cream."
	"You're gonna. Don't you worry." Brad assured him. 
	  They rocked in a rhythm of dick strokes, tit twists, and the 
back and forth massaging of Jerome's dick as it lay slicked up and 
trapped beneath Brad's sliding, straddling crotch.
	"You like that?" Brad asked him, with a leer.  "You like a big 
smooth stud sliding around over your dick, grinding it down against your 
stomach.  Riding it back and forth all slick and greasy.  Feels as good 
as if you had it up my smooth ass, doesn't it?"
	Jerome groaned and throbbed his dick in excited response.  "Yeah, 
just like you were fucking my smooth, hairless pussy ass , " Brad teased 
him.  "Oh, fuck!" Jerome cried, trying to get out from underneath Brad, 
thinking he'd just received an invitation, but Brad laughed and sat 
heavier upon him to keep him down.  Jerome reached around to play with 
Brad's baby-smooth ass and naked manhole, but his hands were quickly 
brought back to Brad's dick again.   "Easy, boy. Relax.  You can forget 
about that.  At least for now," he teased again.  "Right now I've got a 
present for you coming up real fast.  It's hot, wet, white, creamy and 
full of tasty grade A sperm.  I'm gonna serve it up to you in a minute, 
but you've gotta help me prime the pump, dude.  Yeah.  Yeah, pump it like 
that.  Jack me, Jerome.  Take my load, it's all yours."
	Brad grinned and opened and closed his eyes with the rising 
sensation of his approaching orgasm.  He twisted Jerome's tits like radio 
dials and saw his face contort with pleasure.  Jerome was jerking on his 
prick with both hands now and occasionally straining his head and neck 
forward to kiss the ropey pre-come off of Brad's dickhead. Twice he 
popped the entire strawberry shaped head into his mouth and sucked on it 
until it glistened. 
	"Lookout, fucker.  Here's dessert!" panted Brad, rocking faster 
and faster on top of Jerome's flattened dick. "Take it, buddy take my 
fuck juice  in your face.  Yes. Yes. Take it. Ohhhhhhh." 
	Jerome backed off and watched as Brad's dick throbbed in his 
hands and exploded a jet of come that shot directly into his face, 
splattering his nose, cheekbones and lips.  He gasped from the contact 
and pungent scent of the semen and from the sudden pitch of powerful 
pressure that Brad's crotch was applying on top of Jerome's  dick, as 
well as the digging of Brad's short but hard nails into Jerome's tortured 
tits.  
	Subsequent wads of jizz from Brad's prick hosed over Jerome's 
neck and chest, making a puddle of steaming mansauce fit for a 
dick-loving king.
	Brad caught his breath then swung one leg off of and over Jerome 
and then kneeled straddling over him facing the other direction.  He 
seized Jerome's pink prick and began pounding it in his fist, while the 
spermy-faced Jerome groaned behind him.  "Yes.  Pump it, pump that 
fucking dick, Brad. Make me come all over, stud.  Do me, buddy, do me 
good." 
	While Brad pumped, Jerome licked bittersweet come off of his lips 
and gazed up at the beautiful form above him.  The novel smoothness of 
Brad's skin transformed his rear view into that of Michaelangelo's 
David.   So aesthetic was the image that when Jerome lifted up and buried 
his come-sticky face in Brad's ass, still squeaky clean from the shower, 
he half expected the feel of cool marble to greet his lips when they came 
in contact with Brad's warm alabaster-white ass cleft.   
	When Jerome reached his goal, Brad gasped and stiffened, but 
continued to pump the fat prick in his hands.  Hot breath tickled Brad's 
manhole before lips caressed it and finally a hot, wet tongue pushed its 
way inside.  "Oh fuck, " he  whispered at the incredible sensation. Then 
Jerome's strong hands slowly pulled his hips back and down until Brad was 
sitting fully on Jerome's face.  Now Jerome's rough, stubbly chin ground 
into his ass as well, as he continued greedily tongue-fucking Brad.  
	Brad moaned and laid forward onto Jerome's stomach while he 
steadily jacked on the stud's cock, which he kissed and licked in between 
strokes, as it now jutted up right in front of his own face.
He pumped and pumped, coaxing Jerome to shoot his wad. "C'mon fucker, 
spew that rank jock load.  Right here, buddy. Spew me in the face."
	Jerome groaned loudly into Brads ass and gripped his hips even 
harder.  Brad sat harder onto his face in response, and ground his hard 
jock butt around on it, while Jerome's hot probing tongue continued to 
flutter inside and tickle Brad's musky hole.  Jerome humped his hips 
upward to meet Brad's strokes, and a minute later he cried out, though 
Brad could more feel it in his guts than he could hear it.
	"Oh Yeah!" whispered Brad as he took Jerome's spermy ejaculation 
smack wet in the face, as he'd hoped, the dude's fat, springy cock 
repeatedly slapping against Brad's cheeks, nose, lips and chin as Jerome 
bucked up and down beneath him in the throes of orgasm. 
	But as Brad basked in this seminal assault on his face, he was 
suddenly aware of a hot wet sensation on his back.  He looked up and  to 
see a man dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt up in the rafters above 
them with his fly open and his huge dick out, from which big globs of 
come were still shooting.  It was the bald man again, only this time he 
said nothing.  He just put a finger to his lips in a gesture warning Brad 
to keep silent, and then buttoned up and crawled off.   By the time Brad 
got off of Jerome's face, he was gone.


	The rest of the summer Brad disappointed many staff and campers 
by wearing as much clothing as possible.  There was nothing more 
frustrating, after all, than a hairy stud who was modest.  But because of 
his close living quarters and the nature of his job, word got around 
eventually that he'd shaved himself smooth.  No one understood it, and 
though everybody whispered about it, no one had the guts to confront him 
and ask him why.  Gradually, as he became more comfortable, he went back 
to wearing shorts and occasionally removing his shirt.  New campers 
didn't respond to him the way the old ones had, and though he was a 
little disappointed at the lack of attention, in one way it was a relief. 
	So other than that, bonking Jerome hadn't changed his life in any 
significant negative way.  In fact, the only real change in his daily 
routine was that now he and Jerome got up each morning at 5 a.m. and hit 
the showers together.  No one else ever attempted to use the showers 
during that time, but if they had, they would have encountered a locked 
door, from behind which would have been heard a low electric whine of 
Brad's Norelco shaver.  
	Brad's daily shaving routine still involved only his face, while 
Jerome's involved shaving Brad's entire body.  Jerome didn't mind at all, 
needless to say, for it was amazingly quick and easy, as long as they did 
it every day. Plus, the vibrating warm sensation had a marvelously 
arousing effect on both of them, which in turn lead them to start their 
days off with a bang, so to speak. They knew they couldn't keep this up 
forever, between the coarseness of Brad's hair and the time factor and 
all, but they vowed to make it to the end of summer at least, so that for 
that for that brief time, they could give each other a satisfaction 
they'd never dreamed of. 
	Brad even talked Jerome into letting him shave off his bush, and 
even obtained a promise from Jerome that he would let Brad shave his head 
just before their last sexual encounter of the summer and each went their 
separate ways home and back to college.  Both men knew they would be in 
for some big time embarrassment in the locker rooms at school for a 
while, but they did it anyway, without regret, and had among the hottest 
times of their lives.  For while they knew that nothing lasts forever, 
they also knew that that was a relief in many ways.  Thus, their 
hairlessness was entirely forgotten in only a matter of a couple months.

* * *

Look for further adventures of Friday 13"