Date: Fri, 23 Sep 2011 05:38:37 -0700 (PDT)
From: Joe Hunter <hunterjoe45@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Commercial Traveler #8

All the usual disclaimers apply:

+This story is a work of fiction.  If you think it is real, you have a very
active imagination.

+Do not read this story if you live in an area where it is illegal to do
so.

+Scenes of sexual activity between an adult male and young boy are
represented.  Do not read further if this offends you.

+Please do not imitate the actions portrayed herein - the author cannot
accept responsibility for any actions promoted by this story.

If you would like to get in touch, please e-mail me at:
			hunterjoe45@yahoo.com


A tip of the hat to 'R M' whose Text-A-Boy stories were my inspiration for
this series.  Thank's 'R M'!  (Text-A-Boy Service - part 1 is in the
archive, 18 Nov 2008, and the whole series is a fun read!)

I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Support Nifty!   Joe

____________________________

THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER #8  ( Tyler )
(copyright 2011, Joe Hunter)

Call me Jack.

Like I explained in the first few stories - I'm 37, a boy lover and I fly
around a lot on business.  A spare cell phone keeps me in contact with a
string of young companions and most of the time when I go anywhere, I'm
already hooked up...

----------------
| Destination: |
| Billings     |
----------------

Late afternoon sunlight gilded the peaks of the Big Horn range as I sped
along the deserted Interstate.  In that clear air the mountains looked
close enough to touch, a great barrier wall dozens of miles away to the
west.  South and east the range lands of Montana and Wyoming stretched to
the distant horizon, a vast sea of brown covered by an inverted bowl of
sky.  Here Chief Red Cloud had vowed no white man would ever come, and
somewhere nearby was the place where George Armstrong Custer had led his
seventh cavalry to disaster.  On this land absentee English lords had once
financed great cattle empires, rustlers had been hunted by range
detectives, sheepherders had fought cattlemen and gunfighters had been
hired by ranchers to run off the homesteaders.  Not far to the south, in
the foothills of the mountain range, lay Hole in the Wall, famous hideout
of Butch Cassidy and his outlaw gang in the days when they preyed on the
Union Pacific.

I was on my way to a modern form of mayhem, youth football, and when Ty had
called me on the spare cell he had made it very clear that I was not to
miss the game.

"But," I had protested, "Won't your dad be there?"

"So? Sit on the other team's side.  Nobody's gonna notice."

"Yeah, I guess.  What time is this thing?"

"The game starts at five.  You gotta come, Jack." There was a hint of
pleading in the boy's voice.  "It's our next-to-last game.  We beat this
team and we win the league for sure!"

I had some idea of what it meant to the boy for me to see him play.
"Okay," I promised.  "I'll be there.  We're still on for Saturday, right?"

"Uh-huh! I checked the cabin last week and left a key in the same spot."

"Okay.  I'll see you then."

"We're gonna win, Jack! I'll score a touchdown for you!"

"Listen, Ty," I cautioned, "You concentrate on the game and don't worry
about me.  I'll be proud of you no matter what happens.  Don't go trying to
force a play and throw an interception or something."

There was a chuckle from the other end of the line.  "I won't, Jack.  See
ya!"

And so I was committed.  Ty's game was on a Thursday evening and arranging
things so I could get there had taken some smooth talking with the client,
as well as a bit of speeding on the Interstate.  My watch read exactly five
when I reached my exit.  I would miss the opening kickoff, but that was
all.

Dusk comes early in the shadow of the Big Horns and the crisp fall air
already gave a hint of winter's approach.  I buttoned up my coat and put on
a wool ski hat as I got out of my rental car at the field.

The lights were on and the game had started.  Ty's team was the Cowboys,
uniformed in blue and white, and I found a place up on the top of the
crowded bleachers on the opposite side where parents, relatives and friends
of the opposing Raiders were clapping and cheering.  Holding my coat close
against a chill evening breeze I scanned the field for Ty's number and
spotted him playing linebacker on defense.  There was a roar from the crowd
around me as the Raiders snapped the ball and their QB handed off to a
back.  The small figure shot into the line, there was a swirl of action and
when the bodies were un-piled I saw Ty getting up along with another
teammate who had been in on the tackle.  The Raiders punted and I did not
see Ty on the receiving unit, but after a Cowboy run back to their own 40,
Ty was back on the field, leading his team at the quarterback position.

Right in front of me, only a few feet from the bleachers, the Raider
players were standing on the sideline, facing the field, presenting an
uninterrupted view of rounded young butts and thighs encased in tight
football pants.  I was engaged in a comparative study, trying to decide
which I liked best, when my attention was diverted by action on the field.

Ty had called a pass play on first down, something not often successful at
kid level except in all-star competition where the talent is superior.  But
Ty was a quick, tough little athlete and made a nice throw into the flat.
His receiver, left uncovered by the defense, caught the toss and scampered
for another 15 yards before getting pushed out of bounds by the safety, who
made the stop more by luck than design.

Ty's play took the Raider bench by surprise, which I thought stupid since
they should have done enough scouting to know that Ty could pass.  There
was frenzied shouting.  Substitutions were hastily made and the Raiders
secondary, which had been ignoring Ty's two wide receivers in favor of
stopping the run, began to cover their opposite numbers.  This gave the
Cowboys a bit more running room and two plays later Ty called his own
number for a sweep to the weak side.  His twenty-yard gain put the Cowboys
close enough for a field goal try - which their kicker missed, but that was
not Ty's fault.  I saw him give the disappointed boy a pat on the butt as
he came off the field, presumably to encourage him.

On the phone Ty had given the impression that his team would win easily,
but as action on the field seesawed back and forth with no score it became
clear the Raiders were no pushovers.  Good plays were made by both sides,
including another pass by Ty that caught the Raider defense once again by
surprise.  The thing would have gone for a touchdown if his receiver had
not cut the wrong way.  Ty ran for a few more nice gains, but then, just
before the half, the other team's tailback took a handoff around the side
away from Ty's linebacker position, and slipped tacklers, bursting through
into the secondary.  His gain put the Raiders close enough for their kicker
to put a wobbly effort through the goalposts and at the half they led 3-0.

Darkness had fallen and during the break I stretched my legs in the shadows
behind the bleachers, out of sight of Ty's side of the field.  No friends
or members of Ty's family had ever seen me, but even so I saw no reason to
court fate.  Of course no one from the other team had ever seen me either
so my presence was ignored.

The second half started with a bang when Ty ran back the kickoff for a
touchdown.  As he caught the ball I saw the oncoming tacklers over commit.
There was a swirl of small helmeted figures under the harsh field lights
and then Ty's agile wiry form broke away, sprinting toward the end zone.
With his speed no one had a chance of catching him and he slowed going over
the line, holding up the ball in a salute.  Before his teammates caught up
to escort him to the sideline I saw his head turn for a glance at the
Raider bleachers were I was sitting.

With the extra point the Cowboys went ahead 7-3 and the game settled back
into a seesaw battle with neither team getting advantage.  Then in the
fourth quarter Ty engineered a sustained drive down to the Raiders' 17-yard
line.  There the Cowboy attack faltered when the defense smothered two
rushing plays at the line of scrimmage.  On third down Ty put a nice pass
into the hands of a receiver who got shoved out of bounds short of the
first down marker.  The field goal unit came on and when I saw that Ty was
going to be the holder a tingle of excitement went through me.  I stood up
for a better view.

Sure enough, once the ball was snapped Ty exploded out of his crouch,
angling to his left.  There was a gasp from the crowd of Raider parents
around me and then a shout of dismay when Ty's slim form, agile as a deer,
broke two desperate tackle attempts and dove into the end zone, tumbling
and then bouncing to his feet holding up the ball in triumph.

A roar of approval went up from the Cowboy side and I nearly joined in
before remembering where I was.  I glanced around to see if any of the
Raider spectators had noticed my elation and sat down, trying to appear
dejected.

Ty's play knocked the offensive spirit right out of the Raiders.  After the
Cowboy kickoff they tried to mount a comeback drive but I could see from
their body language that the spark had gone out.  They failed to get a
first down, were forced to punt and then Ty and the Cowboy offense ran the
clock out to end the game.

There was a good deal of celebrating on the Cowboy side afterwards.  It had
not been the championship game but with their victory the Cowboys had won
the division and were assured a spot in the district tournament.  As soon
as possible I left the despondent Raider sidelines and joined the milling
crowd of Cowboy parents and players.  The coaches, identifiable in blue and
white ball caps, had gathered in front of the bleachers and there were
several other men with them.  One, taller than the rest, with sharp
handsome features, his eyes flashing in the harsh field lights, appeared to
dominate the rest.  As I circled around to avoid them I heard him laugh and
say, "You can count on Ty.  He knows what'll happen if he's a loser."

It was my second glimpse of Ty's father, the first having been at the
county rodeo where I had first met the boy.  Ty had won a blue ribbon in
calf roping that day but had been soundly berated by his father for only
taking third in the steer riding, so I was already familiar with the man's
views on the subject of losing.  I had no desire for any closer
acquaintance and drifted away, walking casually back behind the bleachers,
out of the glare of the lights.

For a few moments I was alone in the semidarkness, then a little figure in
white and blue slipped around the end of the stands and ran up to me.

"Hey Ty," I said in a low voice, grinning at the boy and holding out a fist
for him to tap.

Ty's eyes glowed with excitement as he stared up at me.  "I told you I'd
score a touchdown for you, Jack."

"Which one was it?" I stroked the boy's dark blonde hair.

"The first one," he told me happily.  "I knew I had it as soon as I slipped
the first tackle.  I held up the ball for you when I ran over the line."

"Yeah.  I saw it.  I saw you look for me, too."

Ty's hair was damp with sweat and when I pulled him close the heady scent
of young boy was all around me.  My hand slid down the glossy satin of his
uniform jersey, feeling the hard little form beneath.

"They were tougher then you thought, weren't they."

With my palm I cupped the firm, jutting curve of the boy's butt.  The satin
of his football pants stretched tight over the rounded mounds and I knew
that underneath Ty was naked except for a tiny jock.

He shrugged.  "I knew we could beat them."

Except for a slight shift of his hips, which made it easier for me to rub
my hand on him, Ty gave no acknowledgment of my caresses.

"I thought you did great, kid," I told him giving his butt a gentle
squeeze.  I stroked my palm back up his side.  "As soon as I saw you with
the kicking team I knew you were going to fake that field goal.  That was
so awesome! You should've heard the groans from all those Raider fans!"

Ty grinned.  "Yeah.  We've been practicing that play.  The coaches didn't
want to call it, so I did it on my own."

"I knew it!"  Giving the boy a clap on his shoulder pads I squeezed him in
a quick fierce hug.  "I just knew that was what you did!  Kid - you're the
greatest!"

With a happy little sound Ty slipped an arm around me for a quick squeeze
in return.  I stroked his hair again.

"Was your dad proud of you?"

"I guess..."  Ty shrugged.

"He sure ought to be." My hand slid over Ty's sturdy back.  "There can't be
any better kid in the whole world than you."

After a final quick hug I clapped his shoulder pads again and asked,
"Everything all set for Saturday?"

"Uh-huh.  I put the key in the usual place."

"Okay." I gave him a little shove.  "Better check in with your team.
They're gonna' wanna' celebrate and they can't without their quarterback.
See you Saturday!"

We tapped fists once more and then with a last smile at me the boy trotted
off.  I watched him disappear around the corner of the bleachers and then
made my way back to the rental car, taking the long way to avoid notice.

Friday brought overcast and a threat of snow flurries.  I huddled with the
client, spending hours with his IT manager adapting one of our trickiest
software products to their requirements.  We finished near midnight and
when I emerged into the parking lot there was a light dusting of snow on my
vehicle.  Shivering in a light windbreaker I got the car started and waited
for the heater to warm up, wondering if the weather was going to kill off
my meeting with Ty.

I needn't have worried.  Saturday dawned bright, cold and clear.  I was
looking out my motel room window at a line of distant snow-covered peaks
when my spare cell chirped.

"Hey, Jack."

Ty was whispering, so I knew he was in his house, probably in his room with
the door closed.  I visualized him, standing by the window with the morning
sunlight on him; naked except for the tighty whities he slept in.

"Hi kid," I answered.  "Are we on?"

"Yeah.  It's all set.  I'll meet you there."

"Right.  See you!"

"See ya!"

We both disconnected and I hustled through my morning shaving ritual,
anxious to be on the road.

It was one of those crisp, clear fall mornings that make the Mountain West
such a wonderful place at that time of year.  It had been cold enough
during the night for people to fire up their woodstoves so there was a
fragrant tang of smoke in the air when I went out to the car.  On the
Interstate nothing obstructed my view to the horizon and on the top of a
distant ridge I caught a glimpse of two antelope, motionless statues on the
skyline, visible one moment, vanished the next.

Ty lived on a huge ranch, far over on the Wyoming side, close to the
mountains.  It was not a working ranch.  Ty's father leased the land for
hay and grazing, preferring to spend his time managing the family
investments, speculating in local development and dabbling in state
politics.  But Ty was a typical ranch kid.  He'd grown up around horses and
like most kids his age in that area his first love was rodeo, followed by
football, wrestling and baseball.

It had been at a local rodeo that I had spotted him, over a year before,
when he was nine going on ten.

"Nice horse," I had remarked, walking past while he stood waiting for an
event, holding the reins of a nimble looking dun colored pony.

Right away he had grinned and looked up directly into my eyes as if he had
been hoping I would talk to him.  "Trained him myself," he had told me
proudly.

I smiled back, responding at once to the expression in his eyes.  He was
dressed for the competition in jeans, cowboy hat and long sleeved calico
shirt; a slender kid, average sized, with the natural grace of a born
athlete and whipcord tough, as I was later to discover.  I drank in the
sight of him and my heart was pounding because I wanted him so much.

He could sense my interest, I was sure of it, and when he asked, "You
gonna' cheer for us, Mister?" I held out a fist for him to bump and nodded.

"Damn right I am."

Ty's grim got wider.  His small fist touched mine, sending a thrill
shooting through me, and then he stroked his horse.  "We're gonna' win," he
assured me.  "I'm goin' for the all around this year!"

"I'll watch you in every event.  Listen, you want a cold pop after this
one?"

"Sure!"

"I'll meet you here.  Good luck!"

"Thanks!"

And so we hooked up.  He didn't win the all-around, he was up against too
many older boys, and he got bucked off on the steer ride, slamming into the
metal barrier.  But he did get the blue ribbon in the calf roping, which he
ran over to show me when they awarded it.

"Where's your parents?" I asked, after admiring his prize.  "They should
see this."

"They couldn't come." The boy glanced at me and then shrugged, averting his
eyes.  "My dad dropped me off with the horse trailer.  He might be here
later."

This was said in a wooden, matter of fact way, but I suspected his feelings
went deeper.  We talked on and off all day, I bought him lunch and in the
late afternoon when his father finally turned up, I watched from a distance
as Ty loaded his horse into the trailer.  The parking area was full of
horse trailers, participants and spectators were milling around and no one
was paying any attention to me.  When Ty's father went off with a group of
men all wearing Stetsons and business suits I beckoned and Ty came running
over to me.

"Listen..." I said, getting out one of my spare phones.  I explained how
the system worked, and the boy took the phone eagerly.

"Thanks, Jack!"

"You call me as often as you want, OK?  I want to hear what you're doing.
And I'll be around from time to time."

"Tomorrow?"

"Sure."

He described where he lived and we arranged a meeting on a side road not
far from the entrance to his ranch.  Sure enough he was waiting there for
me the next day, wearing jeans and a loose T-shirt, his left arm in a cast.

"What the hell happened?" I asked as he climbed into the car.

Ty made an annoyed little gesture.  "It kinda' hurt when I got home last
night, so my mom took me to the doctor.  They said it was broke."

"Gezz!" I stared at the boy.  "Why didn't you say something yesterday?
They had EMTs at that rodeo.  We could'a had it fixed then.  I would've
gotten you over to the hospital."

But Ty shook his head.  "I would'a missed the calf roping.  I wouldn't a
got my ribbon."

"Yeah, but..."

I started to say something, and then told myself not to be a fool.  The boy
had ridden his horse in the roping event with a broken arm.  It must've
hurt like hell, but he hadn't said a word.  I reached over, patted his
thigh and felt hard muscle under his tight jeans.

"I'm glad you won that ribbon."

Ty nodded.  "I wanted to get that high point trophy."

"Next year."

"Uh-huh!"

The boy shot me a glance from under his brows and leaned back a little in
the seat.  He seemed quite comfortable with my hand on him and made no move
to pull away.

"Where can we go around here?" I asked, putting the car in motion.  "How
long before you gotta' be back?"

Ty shrugged.  "I can be out as long as I want, just so I'm back before
dark.  I'll show you my cabin."

"You got a cabin?"

It seemed unlikely, but I followed the boy's directions onto a gravel road
that led into the foothills.  Twenty minutes later we went up a narrow,
rutted track that wove through a stand of pines and came to a clearing
where a small wooden shack was built into the hillside.

"We use this sometimes for snow machining and hunting," the boy explained
as we got out of the car.  "In summertime, nobody comes here but me."

I put my arm around him and Ty leaned against me while I stood there taking
it in.  Nothing moved in the clear light, the air was still; the only sound
was the faint buzz of some insect.  I caught the fresh scent of pine
needles warmed by the sun.

"Come on," Ty said, tugging at my arm.  "I'll show you where you can climb
up and see all around..."

I stayed in the area four more days that first time and saw Ty every
afternoon.  The boy seemed happy in my presence and talked freely about his
plans for the coming school year.  But not all our communication was in
words.  By little movements and gestures Ty made it clear that he liked
physical contact with me and by the fourth day, as I massaged his
shoulders, he let me take off his shirt.

"You gotta' go tomorrow?" He asked as my hands slid on the satin smoothness
of his firm chest and tapered back.  The boy had no fat on him.  His silky
skin stretched tight as cellophane over little swells of developing muscle
in his body.

"My flight leaves early tomorrow," I answered.

"When you come'n back?"

I smiled and gave his shoulders a quick squeeze.  "Not sure.  But don't
worry.  I'll be back.  And in the meantime you've got the phone.  I want to
hear from you all the time.  Don't be stingy with the minutes.  I'll send
you all you need.  I want to hear about the football and wrestling."

So we had left it and over the past year and a half he had called often,
anxious to tell me all about his activities and always asking, "When are
you comin' again?"

I had managed a few visits, once during wrestling season and then again in
the early summer while Ty was playing baseball.  On the first visit I
rented snow machines and Ty guided me on a trek up into the mountains where
we sped across vast snowfields glittering under the winter sun, stark peaks
all around us.  Afterward, in his cabin, we made a small fire, drank the
cocoa I had brought and the boy cuddled against me talking nonstop of all
the adventures he was having on the wrestling team.

Except for briefs he was naked under his snow machine suit and when I
unzipped the front he shifted position allowing my hand inside to stroke
and caress his warm muscular body.  I rubbed my palm on the hard sheath of
his stomach circling downward and Ty shifted position again, leaning back
and sucking in his waist.  My fingers pushed under the edge of his briefs,
slid down and the blunt circumcised tip of a rigid boy stick slipped
between two of my fingers.  Ty wiggled a bit as I began to rub the hard
quivering shaft that was jutting up from his smooth hairless groin.  Then
he squirmed, tugging at his suit.  I held it while he worked his arms free
and then he settled back against me, naked from the waist up, sucking his
stomach in again as I pushed my hand once more under his briefs.

"Where's your next tournament?" I asked, sliding my fingers on his rigid
little branch.

"In Rapid City."  Ty twisted his head around to look up at me.  "Can you
come, Jack?"

"We'll see...  But if I can't, I still want you to call and tell me about
it."

"Uh-huh."  Ty lifted his hips and tugged at his snow machine suit.  "This
is kinda' hot."

"Hold still."  Leaning forward I unzipped the sides of the insulated pants
and then helped the boy get them off.

Flickering firelight gleamed gold on the boy's slender legs and hard little
body.  He stretched out, almost naked now, lifting his arms out of the way
so I could stroke and caress him, the front of his briefs bulging outward.
When I slid my fingers beneath the waistband he lifted his hips and made a
little gesture encouraging me to push the briefs down and a moment later I
had them around his knees, holding them while Ty pulled his legs free one
by one.  He settled back against me once again, completely naked now, his
little boner jutting outward, hard and quivering.  As I began to stroke it
with thumb and forefinger he half turned toward me so I could slip my other
arm around his silky shoulders.

"Feeling good?" I whispered and he nodded.

Ty remained silent while I kept rubbing him, and then, when a tiny throb
pulsed at the base of his hard shaft, he put his arms around me and hugged.
I kept moving my fingers and after a few moments the boy's arms tightened
around me even more.  A series of quick little contractions throbbed in his
rigid shaft, his hips bucked and then he sighed and took a deep breath.

"I really want you to come to the next meet, Jack," he said at last.

"I'll try, kid.  You know I will.  But if I don't, you know I'll make it
another time."

"Uh-huh."

I never made it to Ty's wrestling tournament, or to the regionals held
later in Cheyenne.  But Ty used a lot of phone minutes telling me about the
ribbons he won.  Then, in late spring, I came for one of his baseball
games.  He had pitched a few days before and was not eligible to take the
mound that day, but I watched him make a few nice plays at shortstop and he
hit a triple, bringing in a run.  Despite that Ty's team lost and he was
disappointed when we met behind the bleachers later.

"You did just great," I assured him, glancing around to be sure no one was
paying us any attention.

"Can't you stay longer, Jack?"  The boy looked up at me, eyes pleading.  I
had already told him that I would only be there for the day.

"No way to do it."  I shook my head in regret.  "I had trouble getting away
to see your game."

"And then we had to lose!" Ty said bitterly.  "I wish you had been here
when I pitched.  We won that game!"

I glanced around again.  No one was looking at us so I gave Ty's shoulder a
quick squeeze.  "I bet you were great, kid.  Just like you were great
today.  I'm proud of you."

This pleased him, as my praise always did, and we bumped fists together.

"How much time we got?" I asked in a low voice.

"A kid from my carpool is in the second game," he said, eyes darting to the
right where several boys were going past laughing and chattering among
themselves.  "We can't leave until it's over."

"Okay." I gave him a little nudge toward the parking lot.  "Make like
you're going to the porta-potty.  I got a white van parked over by the
road.  Meet me there."

He nodded and without another word trotted off.  I waited for a minute and
then followed, taking a different route.

It was a hot day and the inside of the van was an oven.  Neither of us
cared.  Ty scrambled in the moment I slid the side door open.  I followed,
and as I pulled the door closed behind me the boy was already pulling off
his thin uniform shirt.

Ty's lean, silky young body was glittering with sweat, lines of definition
etched like sculpture in the dim light.  He stretched out on the blanket I
had spread over the hard floor and when I knelt beside him he stretched his
arms back behind his head.  My palm circled on the tight narrow sheath of
the boy's stomach and pushed at the waist of his tight baseball pants.  The
half belt gave me a moment's trouble; then I had it unbuckled and the fly
unzipped.  Ty lifted his hips so I could push the tight pants down to his
knees.  Beneath he had on only a tight little jock and after rubbing the
thrusting hardness tenting out the pouch I pulled it down to free his rigid
boner.

"How many more games you got?" I asked, rubbing the boy.

Ty arched, pulling his head back, closing his eyes.  "Five more,"

His voice was husky with passion.  A throb pulsed at the base of his
quivering little rod and he caught his breath for a moment before going on.
"After that we like start tournament and All-Stars."

"I want you to call after every game,"

The boy nodded.  "Will you be here again soon?"

"It all depends.  Make sure you call me."

With firm quick strokes I took the boy into a writhing jerking spasm and
then he half rolled against me, grinding his hard little branch against my
hip.  "I want you to be here all the time, Jack," he whispered.

"Me too, kid," I assured him.  "Me too."

But the summer had slipped past with no opportunities and the best I had
been able to do for Ty was to be there on the cell phone.  Football season
had begun and he informed me breathlessly that he was quarterback of his
team.  "You gotta come to one of the games, Jack," he had pleaded.  The
call from our client in Billings had enabled me to grant his wish and I
could tell he was excited when I told him.

"The game's at five, Jack," he kept reminding me.

"I'll be there, kid."

"And on Saturday, too, Jack.  At the cabin.  You gotta'..."

"Yup," I had promised.  "Count on it..."

Fall comes early in the high country of the Mountain West.  There is little
of the color that the New England forests display, but that Saturday
morning as I left the Interstate for the back roads what foliage changes
there were showed crisp and clear.  Above the tree line the Big Horn peaks
were already deep in snow.  Elk were in rut, their herds moving to lower
ranges as they sensed the coming of another long winter.  Recent snow
flurries had left the track to Ty's cabin muddy from melted slush.

Only sunlight and silence greeted me when I arrived.  Everything was still,
waiting for winter's onslaught.  I found the key where Ty had left it and
removed the padlock securing the rude door.  Inside the floor had been
freshly swept and firewood was ready on the hearth.  I got a little blaze
started, brought in the soft bed coverings I had borrowed from the motel
and laid them on the bottom of the two bunks built into the back wall.

There was a sound of hoof beats and, squinting against the sunlight, I
ducked back outside in time to watch Ty and his pony emerge from the woods
at a gallop.  They dashed toward me, the boy leaning forward over his
horse's neck and then at some signal the pony braced his front legs,
skidding to a stop right in front of me.  Ty somersaulted out of the saddle
and landed on his feet by the side of his snorting pet, grinning up.

"Geez!"

To my astonished eyes it seemed a spectacular stunt, but Ty laughed and
shook his head when I told him that and assured me any good roping horse
could be taught to do it.

"I learned it from one of the kids at the county rodeo."  He said, eyes
sparkling.  "I've been practicing."

"I don't care how many other kids can do it," I told him, giving the boy's
shoulders a squeeze.  "I bet you do it better than any of them!"

I could tell this pleased him because he hugged against me for a moment.
Then we loosened his pony's saddle girth and I walked with him while Ty led
the animal around the small clearing to cool him off.

"Great game the other night, kid.  I'm glad I got to see you play."

"We're gonna' play for the championship, Jack.  I wish you could come."

"If it were up to me, I would.  You know that."

"Yeah."  Ty nodded and then looked up at me with a happy grin.  "Football's
great, Jack.  I wanna' make the team next year in middle school, and be
quarterback!  Coach says I'm good enough.  And then I wanna' play high
school, too!"

I gave the boy's shoulders another hug.  "Wanna' be the star, huh?"

"Yeah."  The boy gazed up at me with a look of fierce longing.  "I wanna'
go to State, and make the team and be quarterback there, too!"

"Guess your dad would be proud of you then, huh?"

Ty shrugged.  "He'd brag about it, but he wouldn't really care." The boy
looked away for a moment and then turned to me again.  "I just wanna' be
the best, Jack!"

"You already are, kid," I assured him, stroking his shoulder.  "I think
you're the best kid in the world.  There's nothing I wouldn't do for you."

Ty put an arm around my waist.  "I wish you could be here for all my
games."

"Me too, kid."

Ty's light brown hair glowed in the sunlight as he leaned against me.
Under the jean jacket and thin shirt that he was wearing I could feel the
lithe hardness of his young body.  He was all slim grace and wiry strength,
a born horseman and natural athlete - but he would never be big.  In time,
perhaps, he would lead both his middle school and high school football
teams.  At that level - a small-town school competing against other small
towns - he might excel; at least as far as heart and desire could take him.
But the State University competed in big time, division 1A football.  The
players were recruited from all over the western United States.  At that
level size mattered and small stature would be a handicap no amount of
talent or desire could overcome.  Ty would have no chance.

Let someone else tell him, I thought.  Let him dream and have whatever he
can have now...  Let the coming years take care of themselves...

We tied his pony to a tree and went inside the cabin where Ty pulled off
his jean jacket and then inspected the fire.

"I brought hotdogs," I told him.  "And some packs of marshmallows and
stuff..."

"Yeah!" The boy's eyes glowed as he looked up at me.

"It's really good to see you again, kid."

I drew the boy close and he snuggled against me, squirming a little to rub
his crotch on my thigh and then tickling my back.

"Want to play, huh?" I growled.

Using both hands I wiggled my fingers over the cloth of his shirt while Ty
giggled, writhed, and then tried to tickle me harder.  We tumbled to the
floor, rolling on it as I dug fingers into the boy's hard stomach, making
him squeal with laughter and thrash his legs.

"Jack! Jack!" He pleaded between giggles.  "I'm gonna' pee!"

Letting up on him I supported Ty around the waist while he caught his
breath, and then he watched as I pulled off the dusty boots he was wearing.

"Phew! When was the last time you washed these socks?" I exclaimed, holding
up the boy's feet.  Ty giggled happily and then held still while the socks
were peeled away.  Picking the boy up I carried him over to the bunk,
dropped him on it and then set down next to him while taking off my own
Nikes and socks.

"You ever hear of changing your clothes once in a while?" I teased him.

"I do, Jack!" Ty protested.

"Geez! I can't tell."

Leaning over I began tickling again and Ty burst into laughter, pulling up
his knees while at the same time trying to dig his fingers into my ribs and
belly.  As we rolled on the narrow bunk I was careful to keep my weight off
the boy, letting him move and wiggle freely while he slid his hands on my
clothes tugging and pulling.  Gradually the loose T-shirt I had on slid up
and Ty's fingers brushed my bare skin.  Straightening for a moment I pulled
off the shirt, tossed it aside and then we resumed our tussling match.  My
fingers dug into Ty's lean waist and taut belly, making the boy shriek and
kick his legs while he clung to me, small palms sliding on my bare sides
and back.

Holding Ty with one arm I tugged at his shirt, pulling it free of his tight
jeans and baring the silky hardness of his stomach.  The boy pretended to
struggle while I pushed the thin cloth up further, but then lifted his
arms, allowing me to slide the shirt off over his head.  The instant he was
free Ty squirmed to tickle me in the ribs again, catching me by surprise
and then when I started laughing and tried to grab his wrists he redoubled
his efforts, muscular little body writhing like a snake in my arms as he
got hold of the zipper of my pants and tugged at the belt buckle.

"Oh no," I protested, pretending to resist.  But I let him unbuckle and
unzip me.

Ty's wonderful boy scent and the squirm of his body on mine had lifted me
into a quivering rigidity that was tenting out my boxer briefs.  When the
fly of my khaki hiking pants spread open a stiff man rod popped out and Ty
giggled, grabbing on to it.  I dug my fingers into his hard belly and the
giggles turned into hysterical laughter.  Curling into a ball he tried to
keep me from pulling at the waist of his tight jeans but was forced to
straighten when I began tickling under his armpits.  With a quick move I
unbuckled his tight pants and slid down the zipper.

Ty struggled; faking resistance but actually helping me push the faded
denim off his hips, down to his knees.  A moment later as I tickled the
satiny smoothness of his inner thighs, Ty was giggling, drawing up his legs
again as if trying to defend himself, pulling his feet free as I slid the
jeans down and off.  When I tossed them on the floor he grabbed at my
khakis, stripping them from my hips and together we got them the rest of
the way down until I could slip them off completely.

With a little squeal of delight Ty threw himself on me, and we play
wrestled, all but naked except for our boxer briefs, hands clutching,
pretending to tickle but actually stroking and caressing.  The boy hugged
against me, humping to rub against my hip while my palms circled down over
his firm back, pushed beneath his tight boxers and cupped the glossy jut of
a hard little butt.  Ty squirmed, laughing as I tickled there, and then
lifted his hips so the boxers could be slipped off.

Underneath, the boy's rigid little pole was so hard I could feel the quiver
of heart beats in it when I began to rub.  Ty shifted position to give my
hand more room to pump and then, to my surprise, pushed his own little hand
into my boxers, taking hold of my stiff member and rubbing it.  It was
something he had never done before and I bent my head to kiss his light
brown hair, breathing in its heady scent of warmth and sun.

Lifting my hips, just as he had done, I allowed the boy to slide my briefs
down and then helped him get them off by pulling my legs free.  The instant
the boxers were tossed aside we were wrestling again, Ty's smooth young
body pressing sweetly, one little fist rubbing my hard erection.  I tickled
him and he squealed, hugging tightly with his other arm, his legs tangling
with mine.

"Give?" I growled.

The boy's face was pushed against my chest.  I felt him nod and then as I
began to stroke him, he writhed a little, rubbing his jutting stiffly on my
hip.  He was still gripping my own hard shaft, moving his fingers on it,
sliding them up and down.

I explored the boy, stroking his silky skin while I breathed in the fresh
clean scent of youth.  It was the first time we had been naked together and
the thrill of holding Ty, feeling his lean hard little body squirming in my
arms, sent exquisite pleasure shooting through me.  To cherish him, to
pleasure him, seemed the most important thing in the world.  Bending my
head I kissed the boy's soft brown hair and was hugged tightly in return.
My palm slid down the taper of his smooth back and as I cupped the boy's
firm butt I bent further to kiss the rounded point of his glossy shoulder.

Ty's fingers slid on my jutting rod and then he caught his breath as I
licked across his chest, flicking my tongue on his hard little nipple.
When I nudged him he wiggled onto his back, allowing me to slip my tongue
over his other nipple and then nuzzle down past the vee of his ribs.  I
brushed my lips over the hard muscular sheath of his narrow stomach,
continuing downward until the tip of my tongue was licking the stiff little
boner jutting out from the boy's groin.

Ty gave a little gasp of pleasure and then shifted over to let me reverse
position as he stretched out on the bunk and pulled his knees up, spreading
his thighs.  I kept tonguing the boy, swirling and licking his rigid shaft,
sucking his tight nut sack while he squirmed and tensed, until at last a
throb shot through him and he arched up, moaning.

"Uhhhh..."

Redoubling my efforts I slid my lips on his quivering little rod and Ty
gave another little cry, "Ah..."

His hips again to jerk and he humped against me in a frenzy, bucking,
thrusting, trying to push his small branch deeper into my mouth as
contractions pulsed in his shaft.  I slid my tongue over and around his
sensitive tip, prolonging him into a second and then a third heaving spasm
that finally ended with Ty sprawled on the bunk, gasping for air.

Lifting my head I gave a final lick to the boy's quivering boner and then
slid my palms over his glossy hips and thighs, caressing the silky hardness
of his body.  Ty's skin was sheer as gossamer, so delicately thin the
definition of every muscle was revealed as if in an anatomical drawing.  I
kissed the smooth ridged sheath of his stomach and changed position so that
I was straddling the boy's head.  Leaning forward I licked his firm tummy
again, worked my way down to a leg crease and followed it to the slick
hardness of his jutting boyhood.  Ty moaned, arching, hugging around my
waist as I took his rigid shaft once again into my mouth.  I felt him jerk
and a shudder went through him as I slid my tongue over his tiny slit.

Arms tight around my hips Ty drew his legs up further, straining his knees
apart, and then to my delight I felt a tickling warmth at the tip of my own
throbbing hardness.  The boy was licking at it, experimenting with the
taste.  To reward and encourage him I put my hands behind his slender
thighs, rolled his hips up and licked across his tiny pink opening.  Ty
wiggled, squirming and then when I pushed a finger into his clenched ring
he gave a squeak of pleasure.  A moment later the head of by rod was
engulfed in moist warmth as the boy took me into his mouth.

He was inexpert and I was too big for him to take all the way in, but he
licked around my tip with his small tongue sending shivers racing through
me.  I wiggled my fingertip past his tight ring and Ty's arms tightened
around me.  Imitating what I was doing to him, he sucked the head of my
shaft while my tongue swirled around his straining little boy stick.  A
tremor shot through him, then another, and with a moan of ecstasy he began
to buck, throb after throb jerking his wiry body.

After the spasm passed I again reversed position, stretching out next to
the boy one arm around his slender shoulders and when Ty reached to put his
little fist on my straining erection I showed him how to pump it up and
down.

"Not too fast," I cautioned, leaning over to kiss the glossy point of the
shoulder.  "Let it build slow.  I'll tell you when..."

Following my instructions Ty leaned his head on my chest and rubbed while I
stroked and petted him.  "Yeah," I whispered.  "Yeah...  Like that...
Good...  That's perfect...  Okay, now faster...  Yeah...  Uhh...  Yeah..."

The boy's smooth hard young body pressed on mine, a sensation so powerful
it took less than a minute to bring me off.  Just before release, as I
began to tense, Ty lifted his face to mine and I kissed him on the lips.
When I came, Ty watched fascinated as spurt after spurt of my hot white
semen shot all over his stomach and thighs.

"Is that like sperm?" He asked while I lay, panting for breath.

"Uh-huh..."

I propped myself up on one elbow, rolled Ty onto his back and used my palm
to spread the slick stuff over his silky skin until it dried.

"This'll make you strong," I whispered to him.

Ty lifted his head and went to work on the few streaks that had landed on
his chest.  When we finished he fell into my arms cuddling against me.

"I wish you could be here all the time, Jack."

"Yeah, me too kid," I whispered, stroking him.

Ty squirmed, hugging against me and pulled a knee up onto my hip.  His
lovely boy scent, mixed with the smell of pine boughs from under the bunk,
was all around me and at that moment I would have made any sacrifice to
possess the boy forever.  Wishing that I could stop time I caressed Ty's
silken flanks and back, feeling the thud of his heartbeat against my chest.

"Wanna' do some hotdogs and marshmallows," I asked finally, tickling him.

Ty nodded and we got up.  "If you come again this winter, can we like do
the snow machines again?" he asked hopefully.

"You bet," I assured him.  "You provide the snow, I'll bring the machines."
Rummaging in the packages I had brought I produced several packs of
hotdogs.  "How many can you eat?"

Ty giggled.  "All of them!  And then I wanna' show you the good fishing
spots I found."

"You bet, kid.  I'd like that."

Ty leaned against me, watching as I opened up the food packages.

"Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"After...  We can like come back here, right?"

"Sure, kid..." My arm went around him and Ty turned to hug against me.

"I wanna'..."  Pulling my hand down Ty placed it on the front of his jeans
so I would feel the bulge made by his straining re-stiffened boyhood.

I leaned down to kiss his soft brown hair.  "Me too, kid."

Outside his horse nickered and I held the boy, knowing how short and how
very precious out time was together.

"Anything..." I whispered, rubbing him through the faded denim.  "While I'm
here with you...  Anything you want..."

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Hope you enjoyed it!  This story is the eighth of a twenty-four part series
that features the same central character.  There will be something for
everyone - single hook ups, doubles, twins, first times and hand offs.
Drop me a line if you have a favorite chapter (I do, but won't reveal it).
Look for a new chapter or two each month.

----------------------------------------------------
Thanks for taking the time to read my story and if you'd like to comment,
my e-mail address is:

			hunterjoe45@yahoo.com

I will try to answer all serious mailings.  My on-line access is very
limited.  Rants and ravings will not get consideration.

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contributions and keep the Archive online.  Check the Nifty home page for
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you will lose a wonderful resource to get our stories out.

You can find links to all my other stories on Nifty under my name, Joe
Hunter, listed under the J's (for Joe) in the prolific authors list.  To
get that list click the Authors tab at the top of the Nifty home page and
then select 'Prolific Authors'.  I hope you will read and enjoy!

All the Best.  Joe