Date: Tue, 22 Apr 2014 18:53:33 -0700 (PDT) From: Macout Mann Subject: Aaron 6 This story is about a group of high school boys and involves explicit homosexual sex. Be warned that in the course of the story there are one or two encounters between teens and adults. If you are underage or find such subject matter objectionable, please read no further. For stories like this one to continue to come to you free of charge, nifty.org needs your support. Just click on the "DONATE" button on the nifty.org home page. Thanks for your support. I appreciate hearing your reactions to my stories. Please contact me at macoutmann@yahoo.com. Copyright 2014 by Macout Mann. All rights reserved. AARON by Macout Mann VI Going to Florida Sure enough the following Thursday we all got together in the rec room with a guy I'd never seen before. He was about forty-five. Wore a golf shirt and jeans with a baseball cap that had some sort of film company logo on it. He also had a standard portable video camera mounted on a steadicam. I was real interested in the setup. Mark told me the steadicam kept the hand-held shots smooth. That way the new shots could be intercut with footage they already had so it would look like everything was shot at the same time. The cameraman worked from a "shot sheet." They already knew what sort of closeups they needed, so he got me and each of the other guys on the mat and told us what to do: suck, fuck, or make out. He moved around and got the shots he wanted each time. It was all very professional. In an hour we were done. The other guys all took off, but Mark said he needed to talk to me. So I stayed. Mark offered me a beer, and said "My dad's out of town—seems like he's gone a lot of the time—but he wanted me to tell you he's glad you decided to do the videos. But he also wants to be absolutely certain that you are comfortable doing it. You can still back out with no hard feelings, but once the first video is on the market it'll be too late." "I aint got any problems with it," I replied. "Good," Mark said. "Does your dad look at the video?" I asked. "I'm sure he looks at some of the finished stuff," Mark responded. "We have a copy of each dvd here at the house. But he don't look at the raw footage from the hidden cameras, if that's what you mean. "He's bi, but he's not a perv." "You and he ever...?" "Shit, no! I know he fucks around with guys—and gals too for that matter—but we've never so much as jacked off together." "Well, I was just curious. I didn't mean to..." "Forget about it, man. There aint nothing we can't talk about." I finished my beer, put my clothes back on, and headed home. On the way it occurred to me that that was the first time I'd been with Mark at his house that he hadn't been naked. Mark also wasn't naked several days later when he knocked on my door. It was about five o'clock. He said he'd wanted to come by, and I invited him in. We went to my room. And we did mess around, but basically he just said he had wanted to come and see me. My dad had come home about six, and when Mark said he needed to get back to his place, Dad was having his usual one martini in the library before Sarah served dinner. When we came downstairs, Mark saw Dad and went in to introduce himself. He was his usual charming self, and Dad was suitably impressed. "He's a really nice young man," Dad told me. "I still don't understand why an older boy like him would befriend you and Jerry. It wouldn't have happened when I was in high school." I knew perfectly well why, of course, but I just said, "I don't know why, either, Dad, but I'm sure glad he did." "Have you decided to go with them over Thanksgiving?" "I will, if you don't mind. It'll be the first Thanksgiving we've been apart." "Oh, I can find something to occupy my time," Dad chuckled. The following week I got a "room" text from Mark setting up a meeting before school. Turned out he wasn't looking to mess around. He gave me a big envelope that had everything I needed to set up my online bank account. I had to fill out a lot of stuff and send it to a Bank of America branch in Kansas City. Otherwise everything was pretty routine until Thanksgiving break began. The Estes, driving a seven passenger van, picked me up at six-thirty in the morning on the Sunday before Thanksgiving. We had the whole week off from school. I hugged "goodbye" to Dad, and we drove across Bethesda to pick up Jerry, Ben, and Anthony. Then we went up to Thurgood Marshall Airport, that is, Baltimore-Washington International. My first surprise was that instead of going to one of the airlines, we headed to the general aviation terminal. We were going to fly in a corporate jet Mr. Estes had the use of. It was already waiting. The plane was really neat. Had really comfortable seats that would swivel. A good sized galley. Even a private compartment for Mr. and Mrs. Estes to use. Best of all was a hot steward who said he'd take care of all our needs. He couldn't have been older than twenty-five or twenty-six. Dark hair and eyes, and a little moustache. Said his name was Carl. The pilot said we'd be in the air a little over five hours, and we took off a little after nine. As soon as we had leveled off, Carl fixed breakfast for us. Nothing fancy but really delicious. Freshly squeezed juice, wonderful cheese Danish, and coffee. After eating, we still had four and a half hours to go. Carl said that he had soft drinks and nuts for us whenever we wanted some. "What kind of nuts?" Mark asked, grabbing his crotch. "The kind young guys like best," Carl replied. He grabbed his too. He was wearing tailored black trousers that showed a nice bulge. "But Mr. Estes also said that since we were going to Florida, I could fix each of you a mimosa before lunch." "Aint that a woman's drink?" Ben asked. "Not necessarily," Carl answered. "Besides, the way I fix `em, they've got plenty of punch." The exchange between Mark and Carl about nuts led to a lot of raucous sex talk. That didn't lead to sucking or fucking, but there was a lot of clawing of cocks. And Carl didn't hesitate to join the fun. Around eleven-thirty, Carl made two pitchers of mimosas. He took the smaller one back to Mr. and Mrs. Estes, then poured up a drink for each of us boys. "It may be a `woman's drink,' Ben, but they still taste good," Jerry chided. We continued our chatter, until Mark announced that his parents would come into the main cabin and join us for lunch. Talk became much more subdued. Lunch started with the most delicious soup any of us boys, except for Mark, had ever tasted. Mrs. Estes said it was called Vichyssoise and it was made with potatoes and leeks. I could see that neither Jerry nor Ben had any idea what leeks were, but they gobbled the soup down anyway. Jerry said it was the first time he'd ever had cold soup. Then Carl served Shrimp Remoulade, made with boiled shrimp the almost the size of scampi, covered with a homemade remoulade sauce. And for desert a Chocolate Cream Pie flavored with orange zest. It was all to die for. All of us were stuffed by the end of the meal. "I hope there's a gym where we're going," I said. "We're going to need to work out, if we're going to eat this well all week." Mark's parents both laughed appreciatively, then left us for the forty-five minutes or so before we landed. We generally spent it just relaxing. The plane touched down at the grandly named St. Lucie County International Airport. Actually, it is a fairly small general aviation facility with no passenger terminal at all. It can receive international private, corporate, and charter flights, however; and I guess that said something about the neighborhood we were arriving in. We all disembarked, and Carl said it had been a pleasure to have us on board and that he would see us on the return trip. Waiting on the taxiway were two large SUVs from Enterprise Rent-a-Car. Enterprise isn't open on Sunday, but the Estes are such good customers that the manager and one of his agents came to pick us up anyway. Mr. Estes made quick work of the inspection that Enterprise requires of all customers, signed the paperwork that the manager had brought, and ordered Mark and the rest of us boys into one of the SUVs. The four adults would go in the other. "We have some errands to run," Mr. Estes said, "and we'll drop these gentlemen back at their office on the way. See you at the cottage a little later, boys." As we were loading our bags in the SUVs, our plane fired up its engines and sped away. "They didn't refuel?" Mark called to his dad. "No," Mr. Estes answered, "they're picking up Madison in Miami. They'll refuel at Miami International." The five of us climbed in and with Mark at the wheel we headed a few miles south to Hutchinson Island. We crossed a causeway from the mainland and turned south on Ocean Drive. As we drove along, Jerry asked, "So what's with this Carl dude?" "Oh, he's been on the plane about three years now. Was a flight attendant on Delta before that. I think he may have been fired for coming on to the wrong guys, but he says it was downsizing. Anyway, he's a lot of fun. I've been with him a couple of times. He says he's messed around with my dad, when Mom hasn't been along. Depending on what time we go back, we may get to play around with him next Sunday. At lease more than a feel up." "I'd sure as shit like to suck his dick," Tony chimed in. Always horny. Several more miles down the narrow barrier island and we arrived at a cull de sac containing the Estes "cottage." It was a sprawling six bedroom house that contained almost everything anyone would ever need, except a gym. But even so, it had some workout equipment. "The master bedroom's off limits," Mark said, "but you each need to pick a bedroom. This one's always mine. We won't be using them solo, I know, but we need to keep up appearances. "By the way, the folks will be staying here mostly during the day, but they'll be sleeping down at the Island Beach Resort. They have friends who're staying there, and I guess they don't want to cramp our style either." We all laughed. There was no problem in choosing rooms. We all just selected the one we were closest to. Then we unpacked our things. Not much to unpack. We had been told to bring swimming gear, t shirts, shorts, and one casual dress outfit, which could be something like a polo and jeans without holes in them. Since it could sometimes get nippy at night in late November, something like a windbreaker might be good, just in case. None of us thought underwear would be necessary. Actually, it was in the mid-seventies and some of us were already hot to hit the beach, but Mark suggested we wait until after dinner. Not long afterward, Mr. and Mrs. Estes arrived. They brought groceries and pizza. "We have all sorts of breakfast stuff that you boys can fix for yourselves," Mrs. Estes announced. "We're having most lunches and dinners catered. Tonight Jack and I are having dinner with friends." Before they left, Mr. Estes whispered to me, "By the way, you might want to borrow Mark's computer and check your bank balance." I was intrigued. There were three kinds of pizza. We had our fill, and then got into our swim suits. I wore my team gear. Anthony wore a thong. Winston wore regular trunks. The others wore Speedos. Fifteen minutes later we headed across to the ocean side of the island. The sun would soon be setting and the tide was going out. We grab-assed on the beach and splashed around in the surf until after dark. "Let's go skinny dipping and then head back to the house," Mark called. There was no one else nearby. In fact the beach was almost deserted. We all stripped and played around in the receding water for ten minutes or so. The water was feeling colder, so on Mark's say, we jogged across the highway to the cottage. Once there we washed the salt out of our swimming gear and hung it up to dry. We also showered the salt off our bods. None of us put on clothes. We were ready to play. "I want you to sleep with me," Mark said. "Your dad said I should borrow your computer to check my bank account," I replied. "Come on, then," he said. The other three guys found a bedroom to share, and the house settled down for the night. When I opened my bank account on Mark's computer, I was amazed. My account already had almost three thousand dollars in it. Looking over my shoulder, Mark commented, "Not bad pay for just fucking around, is it?" He reached over my shoulders and gently massaged my chest. I felt his teeth just as gently nibble my neck. I reached back to clutch his legs. That's when he turned off the computer and led me to the bed. "I want to drink your jizz and then fuck your ass," Mark whispered. "I'm so fucking horny I could rape an alligator." And then his lips grabbed hold of my dick. It was like I'd stuck it in a vacuum hose. He was so passionate. As he sucked me, his hands roamed over my body, tweaking my nipples, spearing my navel, finger-fucking my mouth, and finally piercing my ass. He was hot for my cum, and I hadn't dropped a load since sometime yesterday. I gave it to him in four or five blasts. He shared some with me as our lips met and our tongues intertwined. We lay close for several minutes and then I realized that he still vaguely tasted of the sea. I licked him thoroughly everywhere my tongue could reach. "Yeah," he murmured. "Nothing like a spit bath. Somebody else's spit." He licked my pec and said, "You didn't get rid of all the salt, either. Maybe we should start peddling salted dick." I loved his sense of humor. He begin to lick me as thoroughly as I was licking him, ending up with his tongue up my ass. It wasn't long before I had been lubed and flipped on my back with my feet on Marks shoulders with his dick plunging in and out of my hole. Damn, did he know what he was doing! I watched his face glow with the satisfaction that only great sex can give. Then I felt lips on my dick and saw that Tony had slipped into the room and joined the party. Aint nothing like getting it from two directions at once. All three of us got the relief we were seeking. Tony said he was going back to play with the other fellows. But as he was leaving, he asked, "When are we going to make a movie?" "Beginning tomorrow, dude," Mark replied. Yeah, I remembered Mark had said something about that. But fuck it. At the rate my dick and ass were producing cash, who gives a shit what I'm getting into?