Date: Thu, 3 Nov 2022 23:33:20 +0000 (UTC)
From: James Breitbart <jamesbreitbart@yahoo.com>
Subject: Skinnydip Creek Chapter 11

Matty ended up getting two photo-shoots out of that Sunday's
conversation. Reverend Whaley spoke with Mrs. Stanton, who supervised the
acolytes, and convinced her that the acolyte handbook needed to be updated
with pictures to reflect the new uniform. I volunteered to be one of the
models. Matty got pictures of me, Nathaniel Foster, Caitlin Pierce, Brando
Koch, and Diana March changing into the cassocks to demonstrate the proper
way to put them on over our church clothes (I wasn't quite brave enough to
suggest we start going naked under them but had decided to start wearing
shorts so that my ankles would show under the hemline). Then we went out to
the sanctuary to demonstrate each step in our assigned roles as acolytes
and stood on the altar for a group photo that would go on the cover of the
handbook.

After I had hung my cassock back up, Matty suggested that I ride with him
to the Atkinsons for the photoshoot they'd commissioned. When we got there,
it turned out that Robbie's boyfriend Brendan had been invited up for the
week and they wanted to include him in the photos. His presence was sure to
attract notice in a town as `close-knit' as Bartlett, so it was a pretty
bold statement on Mr. Atkinson's part to invite him. I also noticed that
Robbie had put his earring back in and complimented him on it.

"You know, you boys are going to prove Reverend Watkins right," Chelsey
commented.

"What do you mean?"

"Sarah says he put a list of signs your son might be gay in the bulletin
last week and wearing earrings or wanting to wear earrings was on it, right
under having long hair." She cast a meaningful look at Wyatt's dark curls,
which he'd let grow over the summer.

"Well, tell her bisexuals can have long hair and want pierced ears just as
well as anybody else."

"You're not really supposed to know she was talking to me."

Wyatt and I exchanged a look -- there was a lot about Sarah we weren't
really supposed to know, but I changed the subject.

"You're getting your ears pierced?"

"Dad wants me to wait until college."

Mr. Atkinson looked over at me. "Well, if Sam had it done, I guess there
can't be too much harm."

"Faith Crowder says she knows how to do them," I offered. Faith was
slightly miffed that I'd gone the professional route instead of turning to
her and I thought sending Wyatt to her would smooth things
over. Unfortunately, Mrs. Atkinson had the same concerns as my mother.

"Besides," she pointed out, "Christina could use the business."

Christina Conklin was my mother and Mrs. Atkinson's hairdresser. She had
been kicked out of First Baptist Church 12 years before for getting
pregnant at the age of 16, and it turned out she still held a grudge. When
she heard about Reverend Watkins' bulletin, she was eager to do anything
that would stick it to "that cold-hearted SOB," and gave Wyatt a discount
on the piercings.

He showed up to church the next Sunday with a diamond stud in each
earlobe. Robbie and Brendan came too and were invited to Sunday dinner at
our house. From what I could tell, Brendan was of Greek extraction, and
somewhat bemused at Bartlett's traditional Southern customs.

After lunch, the Steering Committee met one final time to formally vote on
dissolving the subcommittee and enter the letter of thanks Faith and I had
drafted into the minutes. Faith was still annoyed about not getting an
opportunity to practice ear piercing.

"You know, I could have done that for free," she told Wyatt, "We could have
done a whole piercing party."

Isaiah rolled his eyes "You know, if you drum enough business, she might
hire you on as an assistant."

"Maybe we should host a piercing party," Mary mused, "Ms. Conklin does need
the money." She'd had another baby, her fourth, the year prior, and the
father had once again turned out to be a deadbeat.

"I don't think we need to make this official First Frost Club business,"
Isaiah muttered. "Faith, why don't you talk to Ms. Conklin and tell the
rest of us what we need to do."

By the end of the day, Ms. Conklin had hired Faith on as an assistant, and
put a picture of Wyatt with his earrings that Matty took in the window of
her salon to advertise her services. After her father nixed the idea of a
piercing party at her house, reasoning that it wouldn't be appropriate for
a minister, Faith prevailed on Wyatt and me to host since we wouldn't be
providing her with any business personally.

Wyatt managed to convince six fellow members of the swim team and two of
their younger brothers to get pierced at his house Thursday evening. Their
parents had to come along with them to sign the permission forms, which
gave Mr. Atkinson a chance to do some one-on-one campaigning, and Matty the
chance to sell the Larsens on a family portrait session. While he was
scheduling the session with them, Chelsey came over to me and asked who I
was inviting to my party, scheduled for the next day.

"Jimmie Clements and his brother, the Kochs, Adrian..." I was trying to
invite boys I thought would influence others, to get the ball rolling, so
to speak. I knew Adrian would set an example for soccer players and
aspiring soccer players, and Jimmie would have the same effect on
football. The guest list would be rounded out by Erik McCall, who I owed
for being on the subcommittee and Warren Rice, who I wanted to talk to for
other reasons. But Chelsey was most interested in Adrian.

"I'd really like to get to know him better."

"Does your daddy know about that?" I didn't want to get in the middle of a
conflict between Mr. Atkinson and his daughter that had the potential to
undermine his support for the creek. My concerns were assuaged when
Mr. Atkinson overheard us and gave his blessing.

"We prayed over it and talked to Pastor Whaley, and we decided to let
Chelsey start on birth control. We figure she's gotta grow up some time and
it's better to do it while she's still under our roof. Although, I gotta
admit that boy's name gives me heartburn."

"That's because you're pronouncing it wrong, daddy. It's Con-sept-see-own,
not `conception.'"

Regardless of how you pronounced his surname, Adrian was game for the plan
when I explained it over the phone. He talked his sister Alicia to going
with him to sign the permission forms so that his parents weren't in the
way, and was first in line to get pierced, which gave him plenty of time to
chat with Chelsey while the rest of the group went through the line. They
stayed on the couch when everybody was done getting pierced and dad invited
everyone outside for chips and sodas or beer while he fired up the grill.

I waylaid Mr. Rice before he could get out the door and asked him to speak
with me in the kitchen for a moment. He was the leading marijuana kingpin
in Wray County, and assumed I was looking to make a purchase.

"Look, kid, I don't have any on me right now, but if you come buy the house
tomorrow..."

"I don't want to buy anything right now. I wanted to talk about the
election."

"You're talkin' to the wrong man. They don't let felons vote." Mr. Rice had
done five years in state prison back in the 80s for distributing
marijuana. While there, he'd formed a relationship with a dealer based in
Fayetteville, and afterwards returned to Wray County to set up a grow
operation. The Fayetteville dealer came up four times a year to haul
product back, and what he didn't buy, Mr. Rice and his sons distributed
throughout the county.

"Well, that's unfortunate, but you do business with plenty of voters, and
if you mentioned that you were supporting Sherriff Pollard for
reelection..."

"Now hang on, you want me to endorse the sheriff?"

"Have you had any trouble with the law since he took over?"

"Well, no."

"Do you think you'd have trouble if the Joe Donnelly him won?" Joe Donnelly
was the candidate Watkins had recruited to run against Sherriff Pollard, a
Ramsey graduate who'd gone on to West Point and an active deployment to
Kosovo before returning to teach history at his alma mater and get started
in politics.

"Yes, but I think my endorsement might backfire."

"Not with your customers. Hell, you don't even have to give them Pollard's
campaign literature, you can just give them Donnelly's." To prove my point,
I produced a campaign leaflet that had been left on our doorstep
excoriating Sherriff Pollard for turning a blind eye to marijuana use and
promising to "lock up every dopehead and pusher in Wray County." Mr. Rice
took it from me, promising to show it to everyone he did business with.

When I went back through the living room, Chelsey and Adrian were still on
the couch. Adrian had undone his fly, and his soft cock was poking out
through his boxer shorts.

"Is it supposed to look like that?" Chelsey asked.

"I'm not circumcised," Adrian explained as I stifled a laugh and made a
mental note that Ramsey's sex education program could apparently use some
improvement.

I cleared my throat and politely offered to get them a towel before they
went any further on my parents' antique couch. By the time I retrieved a
towel from the linen closet and came back downstairs, they were both naked,
and Adrian was working Chelsey's pussy with his fingers.

"Holy shit! You're cherry!"

"Mm-hmm. I've been a good girl until now."

I spread the towel out on the floor for them, and Chelsey lay on her back
with her legs spread open. Adrian gently pushed his cock inside her until
he hit her hymen, then gave a single determined thrust to break
through. Chelsey let out a little yelp of pain, and I decided to leave them
to it. They emerged onto the deck a few minutes later, both looking freshly
fucked and quite pleased with themselves.

Because it was a co-ed event, sleeping over would have been too scandalous,
so most of the guests left after dinner. Matty did stay the night, and we
enjoyed a nice long session of love making before going to sleep in one
another's arms.

The next week was a busy one for Matty and I. Mrs. Fritz had arranged for
him to get a booth at the annual Bartlett Art Fair, and we needed to
develop and frame a sufficient set of pictures. We decided on a 50-50 split
of mountain landscapes and some of the tamer pictures of our friends he had
taken over the course of the summer.

As it turned out, the portraits were much more in demand than the
landscapes, which were admittedly pretty run of the mill for this type of
art show. By 10:00 Friday morning, a knot of older, presumably gay men had
gathered around our both, and by the end of the day he had sold out of
portraits. We stayed up late that night developing more copies of the
portraits and added what I felt was a slightly racier photograph consisting
of a close-up of my bare feet from behind as I walked down the sidewalk on
Main Street.

While Matty was busy with the booth, I walked around the square and looked
at some of the other vendors. I ended up buying matching pairs of earrings
and beaded anklets for myself and Matty, and a set of cheesesteaks for our
lunch. The fair closed down at 6:00 and we'd finished breaking down our
booth and counting our money by 8:00. Matty had made over $400 and figured
out his market.

We caught a ride with Jimmie Clements over to Scott and Ricky's. Uncle
Cecil and Aunt Cathy were in Cherokee overnight for a campaign rally and a
meeting with the tribal leadership, so Scott had decided to through a party
-- the kind of high school kegger you see in the movies. By the time we got
there, their pond was already filled with skinnydippers. These kinds of
illicit events were some of the only times boys and girls got to socialize
without adult supervision in Bartlett, and they got pretty frisky pretty
fast.

We found the keg on the porch where a game of strip beer pong had broken
out. Scott was on a team with Sarah Watkins, and I'm pretty sure they were
losing on purpose. I jokingly suggested that the winners get to fuck the
losers, and to my surprise Sarah took me up on it. When she and Scott were
both totally naked, they led the team that had beat them, plus Matty and I
(Sarah wanted an audience) to Scott's bedroom.

Scott offered Matty and I a joint, which we shared between ourselves while
he took Sarah doggy-style on the bed. Scott had been drinking for Sarah
during the game of beer pong, and was pretty wasted, so he managed to last
a lot longer than you would expect a 15-year-old to. While this was going
on, the winning team of Wyatt Atkinson and Stephen Pollard were stripping
off the remainder of their clothes. Matty and I finished the joint, and got
Wyatt and Stephen prepped with some oral attention.

Wyatt took Sarah next, and Stephen followed up last. I wasn't particularly
interested in what Sarah was doing, but I did enjoy watching Wyatt's lean
muscular body tensing as he gradually reached orgasm. Both Matty and I were
hard by the time the show was over, and Sarah had an idea for us.

"You guys should go out and fuck in public."

Thanks in part to the weed, it sounded like a good idea, and Matty and I
strode out to the porch to the cheers of the other party-goers. I bent over
and gripped the porch rail, spreading my legs behind me. Ricky appeared
with a bottle of lotion, and Matty used it to lube me up. He grabbed me by
the shoulder to brace himself and gave me a quick but skillful fucking.

By the time Matty was finished, there was a line forming behind him, with
Connor Sexton at the front of it. I came as Connor was fucking me and got
through four more guys before collapsing, exhausted, on the floor of the
deck. Ricky took my place in line, and Jimmie drove Matty and I home.

Dad was waiting up for us, but he kindly didn't remark on the lateness of
the hour or our inebriated state. We collapsed together in my bed and woke
up the next morning in time for Sunday School.