Date: Sat, 15 Jan 2000 18:41:05 EST
From: Park517@aol.com
Subject: uncle buddy and me after the elk

UNCLE BUDDY AND ME AT THE X BAR L

	DISCLAIMER:  This is just a story what never happened
because Uncle Buddy would never have let me get that close to no
elk in the first place.  It is a story for grownups only, because
it talks about things that only grownups do or talk about and when
you get to be grown up, you'll know what I mean.  Until then,
wait.  This story belongs to me on account of I wrote it down and
have the copyright on it and Uncle Buddy and me will find out
where you live if you mess with it any more than reading it here
in the Nifty Archive and telling your grownup friends where they
can read it to if you like it which I hope you will.
Park517@aol.com



	Uncle Buddy had this real sour expression on his face.
Anybody who's seen "Return of the Jedi" - that's just about
everybody, I figure - knows the expression I mean.  It's the way
Princess Leia looked a lot of the time, but especially when she
was chained up alongside Jabba the Hutt's throne waiting for Luke
Skywalker to come save her before Jabba ate her or slimed her or
whatever Hutts do to Princesses in off-the-shoulder, captive-
slave-girl outfits.

	That's the way Uncle Buddy looked -- pissed off.  Except, of
course, he was pissed off at me, not at Luke for being late, and
Uncle Buddy wasn't wearing an off-the-shoulder, captive-slave-
girl-outfit.  Fact is, he wasn't wearing much of anything.  He had
some kind of collar around his neck with a chain clipped to it,
and his special parts were all squinched up in a sort of leather
sack, and his skin was all shiny from a real heavy coat of baby
oil or something.  But the look he was giving me - "What the fuck
have you got me into now, asshole?" - would have done Princess
Leia proud.

	What I'd gotten him into wasn't actually that bad.  Just a
wrestling match, and not even a real one.  He and the Twink was
going to do the wrestling, and the big-time film crew was going to
get pictures of everything.  Especially the part where Uncle Buddy
and the Twink, whose special parts were all bunched up, too, but
in a pretty small piece of shiny gold-like cloth, would get one
hundred percent naked and kind of excited and start fooling
around.  It's not as if Uncle Buddy had never been one hundred
percent naked with another dude because of course he had, mostly
with me.  But we'd never had no film crew around, and I think
that's what had Uncle Buddy pissed off.  Uncle Buddy had a modest
streak, coming like he does from a God-fearing family run by his
father who looks a lot like God and can talk like Him, too.

	I come from the same family.  And at near the same time,
having got born about five months before Buddy did.  But Buddy's
father is my granddad, and my father is Buddy's half-brother,
which makes me Buddy's nephew, except I'm older, so I never had to
pretend to show him much respect beyond calling him Uncle now and
then in company.  Buddy's momma was a pretty little thing - that's
what my dad always said about his dad's second, late-in-life wife
- and Buddy took after her for the longest time.  He was pretty
and he stayed little whilst I got big, which meant I could pretty
well tell him what to do and where to get off and could get away
with it.  Which I did.  So by the time Buddy got big, too, he was
used to doing what I said.  Still is.  But he can get pissed off
at me.  Like he did the day before the wrestling match in front of
the big-time film crew.

	Looking back on it, he had some cause to be pissed off at me.
It was on account of me spotting this great big bull elk in the
shallows of the Bitterroot River and flat out insisting that Buddy
and me take our canoe in for a closer look.  Now I know you don't
want to mess with no elk in rut, but this one looked to be alone
and still had some of that moss-like covering hanging down off his
antlers.  So I figured he was just building up attitude for mating
season and was safe to get close to long as we stayed real quiet
and downwind.

	The thing is, I figured wrong.  Just about the time we got
the canoe into the shallows, tiptoeing kind of, two things
happened.  The wind shifted, and the elk's lady friend strolled
out of a stand of aspen trees to hint kind of that time was
wasting.  Could be, that elk had Buddy's kind of modest streak,
or, more likely, was easily pissed off.  At any rate, he spotted
us and charged the canoe with Buddy and me in it.  Until we got
out of it.  Fast.  Like I said, we was in the shallows, so I
figured we'd best leave the canoe for the elk to mess up so it
wouldn't bother with messing us up too.

	It did.  Mess up the canoe, that is.  Looking back at it -
the elk, that is, to see if it was going to come after us - I saw
the canoe go spinning a good 15 feet up in the air, spilling out
all our camping gear, some into the shallows, some into deeper
water.  Which left Buddy and me in our cut-offs and boots up shit
creek without any paddles or tent or bedrolls or fishing line,
rifle, flashlight, or food.  Well, you get the idea.  At least, it
was a real warm day for the second week in June in the Tetons, and
me and Buddy was on the east bank of the river where the north-
south roads run some ways from the river and the elk looked to
have worked its upset out of its system. Which you couldn't
truthfully say about Uncle Buddy.

	He didn't go for his hunting knife.  He was pissed off but
not murderous.  But he did curse me for having shit for brains,
and he said that if he fucked me between the ears, which he just
might decide to do, I'd never feel a thing since the inside of my
head was as hollow as a politician's promise.  Then he said that
before he starved to death on account of I'd been an asshole, he
would take out his hunting knife and remove pieces of me bit by
bit for his meals and he asked me to guess which pieces of me he'd
start in on first.

	I didn't need to guess.  He'd had a thing about my dick and
my nuts ever since I first showed him how the one got big when it
got stiff and how the others tried to climb up it.  He was
downright fascinated.  For close to two years till his turn came
to get big and stiff - he was something of a late bloomer in that
department - he couldn't get enough of the sight and the feel and
even the taste of me.  And he was pretty, like I said, so I didn't
have no objection to the business of getting one hundred percent
naked with him even if he was my own uncle.

	Then when he started in to get stiff and big on his own, I was the
one who got fascinated.  Most of the time Uncle Buddy's dick and
my dick were just your ordinary, run-of-the-mill, human male sex
organs, and when mine got stiff and big, it got adequate to the
occasion but that's about all.  Uncle Buddy, though, his pecker
could go from zero to sixty in about the time it takes a snake to
strike.  The speed was remarkable, but the size shift was purely
astonishing.  One minute he was run-of-the-mill and the next thing
you knew, he had a war club waving there between his legs.  Which
is why I got fascinated and why this big-time film crew wanted him
to wrestle till his leather sack came off.

	The way the director of the big-time film crew had it
figured, once Uncle Buddy busted loose, in a manner of speaking,
the Twink was either going to settle down and do what he was
getting paid for or he was going to break his contract out of pure
unadulterated terror, in which case Uncle Buddy and me, the
director said, would have the opportunity of a lifetime.  I hadn't
exactly spelled everything out to Uncle Buddy because the director
didn't want to interfere with what he expected to be the
spontaneity of it all.  I had just told Uncle Buddy that if he won
the wrestling match which he was sure to being strong and a
champion high-school wrestler, he was going to be able to fuck the
Twink in the face and the ass right there by the barn at the X Bar
L ranch resort.  Uncle Buddy agreed that the Twink looked like
he'd be easy to wrestle and fun to fuck so he, Uncle Buddy, that
is, went along with the idea.  Then he found out that the big-time
camera crew would be taking pictures of the proceedings, and
that's when he got that pissed-off, Princess Leia look.  But by
then everything was set, and he couldn't back out, and the
director seemed to like the pissed-off look anyway.  "He looks
mean" is what he, the director, that is, whispered to me.  "That's
great.  A mean angel.  Real kinky."

	The director's name is Jack, and he was the first member of
the big-time film crew Uncle Buddy and me met when we walked up to
the X Bar L ranch resort kind of late in the afternoon of the day
that the elk got upset with us.  Jack was walking up and down and
talking to himself when we showed up, saying things like "Calls
himself a cocksucker, does he?" and "Can't take it up the ass!?
He could take a Ryder truck up that ass and still have room for
Rock Hudson, Liberace and the Trockaderos."

	I kind of didn't want to interrupt such an interesting
discussion, but the truth is Uncle Buddy and me was hungry and
thirsty and scratched up and so tired and footsore that until we
saw the fence around the X Bar L ranch resort we was almost ready
to lay down and give up.  Not having no shirts on nor no way to
make a fire and with evening coming, we had about given up on our
chances of getting home in good health.  Uncle Buddy had started
in to talk about the wolf packs that the pointy-headed godless
Communists in Washington had raised up in Yellowstone and how when
they came for us in the night, he'd make sure they took me first.
He was still pissed off at me on account of that elk and our canoe
and the camping trip I'd fucked up.

	So when we saw Jack, not that we knew his name at the time,
we was not at our most presentable.  I had some dried blood over
one eye where I hadn't seen a tree branch coming on account of
looking back at the elk, and Uncle Buddy had his pissed-off,
Princess Leia look and his long, white-blond hair was full of
leaves and twigs.  So when Jack finally looked up and saw us, what
he said was "Holy Charles Manson!" and he took a step or two
backwards and put up his hands and said something kind of short
about how we were on private property and shouldn't plan to stick
around long.  Then he yelled, real loud, "Benny, Luther, Arnie, we
got company!  Strangers!  And," he yelled this even louder, "they
got knives!"

	Quick as I could I explained who me and Uncle Buddy was and
how we'd been attacked by an elk in the shallows and had been
walking ever since looking for a road to hitchhike our way back
home.  And I said that if maybe we could borrow shirts and get
directions to the road, we'd be on our way and didn't want to be
no trouble.  Just when I was getting ready to ask for a drink of
water, too, three men ran up to where we was talking and one of
them was carrying a two-by-four and seemed a little anxious.  So I
started in again on the explaining and apologizing, but just about
when I'd gotten to the elk and our canoe, I heard Uncle Buddy sort
of sigh and then I heard a thump on account of he'd keeled over.

	That pretty well broke the ice.  The fellow with the two-by-
four dropped it and ran to pick up Uncle Buddy and said, "poor
kid, poor kid" over and over after I said not to worry that Uncle
Buddy was probably just tired and hungry and only needed a little
rest.  The other men kneeled down, and one of them who was holding
a can of pop poured some of it into Uncle Buddy's mouth, and he
came to, looking confused and asking what happened.  The fellow
holding him up said he'd fainted, Uncle Buddy, that is, but he'd
be all right and just to stay calm, and the fellow  patted him on
his shoulders and his arms and his legs in a nice, considerate
sort of way.  He also started picking the leaves and twigs out of
Uncle Buddy's hair and trying to unsnarl it and smooth it down
with his fingers.  That was nice and considerate, too, but Uncle
Buddy must have thought it was a little too friendly because he
sort of pushed the fellow off and stood up.  All that patting and
smoothing and unsnarling was making Uncle Buddy nervous and more,
as I could tell by the way his cut-offs was squeezing him.

	Once it was generally agreed that Uncle Buddy was a poor kid,
the fellows warmed right up.  One of them ran off to get us some
sandwiches.  Another followed him but high-tailed it right back
with beer and pop and water.  Jack, the director, told us his name
was Jack, and I said mine was Seth and that this was my Uncle
Buddy.  Then we shook hands, and Jack led us around the main house
of the X Bar L ranch resort to where he said we could get cleaned
up.

	The cleaning up place was an outdoor shower - something Uncle
Buddy and me had never seen before that day - with a stockade
fence so it was hard to see everything inside if you was outside
and room for two to lather up and rinse down.  Whilst I was
getting the dirt and dried blood off me, I noticed that I'd been
right about how nervous Uncle Buddy had gotten whilst that fellow
patted and smoothed and unsnarled him.  Not that he'd gone from
zero to sixty, but nobody outside who looked inside the outdoor
shower would call him run-of-the-mill.  Jack did look inside, but
just long enough to leave some towels and tell us to come to the
hot tub when we was done showering.

	Right away, of course, Uncle Buddy wanted to know what a hot
tub was.  I had to do some fancy footwork with my mouth about how
I couldn't believe he was so green and out of it that he didn't
know what a hot tub was and how all the ranch resorts had at least
one of them for the guests.  Finally, I said the best thing I
could do was just show him the hot tub so he'd understand and stop
pestering me with his pitiful ignorance.  Before we left off
showering, though, I made Uncle Buddy run the cold water on his
special parts to get them back to looking run-of-the-mill.  I
couldn't tell you why I had this feeling that the time hadn't come
for Uncle Buddy to show himself off, but I just had it, the
feeling, that is.  And since I didn't have a single idea myself
about what a hot tub was, I thought that keeping an ace up my
sleeve, in a manner of speaking, couldn't hurt.

	I didn't have no sleeve, of course, but I did have a towel
cinched around my waist when me and Uncle Buddy went looking for
the hot tub, which was actually just around the corner from the
shower and where, the hot tub, that is, there wasn't much of any
call for a towel, not around your waist, nor no place else.   I've
seen men one hundred per cent naked before.  But in a locker room
after a football game, to take a for instance, there's generally a
good deal of movement and covering up and towel-snapping and
yelling and general carrying-on, and unless you want to get a bad
name for yourself, you don't do a lot of staring.  The hot tub was
something else.  No matter where you looked, everybody was one
hundred percent naked and, you'd have to say, pretty casual about
staring and being stared at.

	The fellow who'd poured the pop into Uncle Buddy's mouth -
his name turned out to be Arnie and he was the cameraman - was
leaning back on his elbows in the water with his legs stuck out in
front of him so that the parts of him that you don't ordinarily
stare at were floating out on the surface.   Arnie looked like he
didn't have a care in the world.  Part of the reason, I guess, was
the fellow sitting on the rim of the tub behind Arnie with his
legs spread wide who was rubbing Arnie's shoulders and neck.  He
was called Bernie, and Jack said he was the producer and was
Arnie's partner.  I started to ask what business the two of them
was in, but they looked more like real, close personal friends
than fellows who was in business together so I held my tongue.

	Jack himself was about to get into the tub when me and Uncle
Buddy showed up, but he stopped and introduced us to the other
fellows instead, including to one who was all the way in the water
who he said went by the name of Dick B. Long.  "He's our Star,"
Jack said, but Dick B. didn't act much like no Star.  Being one
hundred per cent naked, of course, he wasn't in condition to offer
us no autograph.  Still he could have been civil, which he almost
wasn't.  He hardly even looked up when Uncle Buddy and me was
introduced and just muttered a "Hi" at us before he went back to
hanging his head.

	Jack said Uncle Buddy and me should just come on in to the
tub and Luther would be along after a while with something for us
to eat which we could do, eat, that is, in the tub.  Jack got into
the tub himself next to Dick B. but one level higher and stretched
out his legs like Arnie with pretty much the same results as far
as floating went.  Jack pointed to a space next to him for me to
take and a place on the other side for Uncle Buddy.  There was
nothing for it.  I uncinched my towel and walked bareass to the
rim of the tub whilst everybody in it except Dick B. stared at me
and the parts of me I consider run-of-the-mill.  I tried to make
like climbing into hot water one hundred percent naked with
fellows I'd only just got to know was something I did all the
time.  Acting casual though, I missed my step and sort of spun
around so that Jack had to grab me around the waist and pull me
down into his lap to keep me from falling.  He behaved like he
didn't mind a bit and even kept his hands on me some extra time,
except more on my backside than my waist, in the kind of way that
would have made Uncle Buddy nervous if it had been his backside,
that is.

	Whilst I created this diversion without exactly doing it on
purpose, Uncle Buddy got out of his towel and into the water on
the other side of Arnie's floating legs without getting stared at.
But because he didn't get all that far in, the staring squad came
round to him pretty quick after I got off Jack's lap and settled
down.  Bernie was the one who said what all the rest of them were
thinking.  What he said to Uncle Buddy was "Jesus, kid, how do you
get it to look like that?"

	Uncle Buddy looked confused, which he was, because even
though it was obvious where Bernie had been staring, the cold
water treatment in the shower had gotten Uncle Buddy to where he -
or, I ought to say, his special parts - were in your average, run-
of-the-mill, non-operational condition.  So Uncle Buddy looked
down at his dick which was actually under water and then up at
Bernie and what he said was "Get what like what?"

	"Your hair, kid," Bernie leaned over and sort of ran a finger
through the curly blond fringe on Uncle Buddy's lower belly, "I've
never seen a better dye job."

	"It's just the way it growed" was what Uncle Buddy said and
then slid deeper into the water.  On his way down, he gave me a
flash of the Princess Leia, pissed-off look, and I knew I'd better
create another diversion before Uncle Buddy got nervous again.  I
was getting a little nervous myself on account of being one
hundred percent naked in the warm water with Jack and Arnie and
Dick B. Long, especially Jack whose legs and hands seemed to keep
finding different parts of me to rub up against.  I didn't really
mind.  Jack was a well-set-up fellow, and he had a real warm smile
which he had just turned on for Luther and the big plate of
sandwiches Luther was holding.

	That made Luther the diversion.  At least he was whilst Jack
introduced him to Uncle Buddy and me and told us Luther was the
light man and the sound man and the make-up man for the big-time
film crew.  "And the best boy, too," Luther said, and the rest of
them laughed except for Dick B. Long who didn't even look up.
Luther handed Uncle Buddy and me sandwiches which we launched into
then and there because we were hungry as one of those Yellowstone
wolves the godless Communists in Washington had raised up and
because they were really good, the sandwiches, that is, not the
wolves nor the godless Communists.  Whilst I was working my way
through my third sandwich and not spilling so much as a crumb into
the hot tub, I had a thought.  I would never have another day in
my life that started out with being charged by an elk and ended up
sitting in a hot tub eating sandwiches with a bunch of strangers,
all of us one hundred percent naked and some of us floating or
being rubbed up against or both.  Which I was, floating, that is,
and being rubbed up against by Jack who made as if the rubbing up
against was just an accident on account of he was too busy staring
at the floating parts of me to pay attention to what his legs and
hands were doing.

	Luther said he could make more sandwiches but Uncle Buddy and
me thanked him kindly, and I said he shouldn't go to the trouble
we would just get dressed and borrow some shirts if that was all
right and be on our way to a north-south road where we could
hitchhike our way home.  Jack wouldn't hear of it, our being on
our way, that is.  It's a long way to the road is what he said and
it's going to be dark before you know it.  You boys stay here
tonight and get rested up proper and tomorrow we'll call a limo to
come get you is what he said.  I could see that Uncle Buddy was
about to ask what a limo was, so before he could show how green
and out of it he was, I said that Jack was real hospitable and
considerate but that Uncle Buddy and me didn't want to put
everybody to a lot of trouble.  Jack said it was no trouble at
all, we've got plenty of room, it is a ranch resort, after all,
and we'd be glad of your company is what he said.  Bernie and all
the others said they'd be real glad, too.  Only Dick B. Long
didn't chime in, but he hadn't said a thing but "Hi" since Uncle
Buddy and me had showed up.

	Later on, Jack told me that Dick B. Long was having "creative
differences" with his co-Star, the Twink, and the whole reason the
big-time film crew had come on a "retreat" to the X Bar L ranch
resort was to patch things up so the "Project," is what Jack
called it, could get "wrapped up" and "put in the can."  But
things weren't going too good is what Jack said which is why,
after he got to know me some, he started in to talk about giving
Uncle Buddy and me the opportunity of a lifetime.

	The way Jack got to know me some is that he took me to his
cabin to see if any of his clothes would fit me and I got a
splinter in my foot and whilst he was taking it out with tweezers
he asked me if anybody had ever told me I was very good looking
and ought to be in the movies.  I was sitting on his bed at the
time he asked, and he was kneeling on the floor in front of me and
holding onto my foot, and both of us were still one hundred
percent naked because after we had dried off at the hot tub I had
just put my towel around my neck the way Jack had done which is
the way I figured everybody did at a ranch resort like the X Bar
L.  Well, not everybody.  Uncle Buddy cinched his towel around his
waist before he went off with Luther to see did Luther have
clothes that would fit him, Uncle Buddy, that is, the one with the
modest streak.

	I don't have much of a modest streak myself, so when I told
Jack that nobody had ever mentioned me and the movies in the same
breath, I was being truthful.  Jack, though, acted real surprised
and said that if the Project didn't already have a Twink on the
payroll, I would be perfect for the part as long as I had passed
my 18th birthday which I had almost two years before.  Jack wanted
to know, too, was I a good kisser and, still being truthful, I
said nobody had ever complained which was true because except for
my momma I hadn't never kissed nobody.  Which is when Jack asked
me would I mind showing him how I kissed and I said I wouldn't
mind and he reached up to behind my head and pulled my face down
to where his was and we kissed.

	Well, that was something to make the day one I could send off
to the Guinness record folks.  First the elk, then the eating in
hot water with everybody being one hundred percent naked and now a
fellow sticking his tongue into my mouth whilst one of his hands
went up the inside of my leg and him and me still one hundred per
cent naked.  I guess I shouldn't have been too surprised by the
tongue and the hand, that is.  It had been Jack who had been doing
the rubbing up against in the hot tub, after all, and the staring
at my floating parts so the kissing business was just a natural
progress for him.  And I had the natural reaction.

	Like I said, I don't go from zero to sixty like Uncle Buddy
does and when I get stiff and big it's just about adequate to the
occasion.  But Jack took a look at me getting that way and said I
was not just good looking but good enough to eat which he'd like
to do if I didn't mind.  I told him that I certainly didn't mind
because being one hundred percent naked and getting the way I was
getting there wasn't no point in being anything but truthful.  But
if Jack was going to do to me what I figured he had in mind to do,
I thought it was only polite to offer to do it to him too which I
didn't mind either because, like I said, he was a well-set-up
fellow with a real warm smile.  So I offered and he said he didn't
mind and he gave me a real warm smile when he said it, and we both
got all the way onto the bed and arranged ourselves so we could be
comfortable and useful at the same time.

	I wasn't exactly green and out of it when it came to making a
fellow feel good.  I'd done it plenty with Uncle Buddy who had
never complained and some with truck drivers who had helped me out
when I hitched a ride and once with a fly fisherman from Columbus,
Ohio who asked me to show him around some.  Still, I learned from
Jack that I had a whole lot to learn.  About tongues, or I should
say, his tongue.  Since I'd had it in my mouth for the kissing
test, I knew that it, Jack's tongue, that is, was wet and warm and
long and good at moving around.  But what it was turned out to be
less of consequence than where it went and what it did when it got
there.

	I guess I have to admit it, being green and out of it, that
is, because until Jack started moving his tongue around my special
parts, I'd never had anything wet and warm on my nuts except the
occasional washcloth.  Now, there's no comparing a tongue and a
washcloth on your nuts for what each can do toward getting you
stiff and big.  It's not like I went from zero to sixty whilst
Jack's tongue was on patrol between my legs.  When he raised one
of my legs up over his head, though, and began to advance
backwards is one way of describing it with his tongue pushing
toward places of me I had never thought a tongue would care to go,
I told Jack that I'd sooner he left that part of me alone for the
time being and concentrated on the big and stiff part.  What I
said was "Cut that out unless you want your pretty hair full of my
spunk."

	It was a fair warning and it served its purpose.  He turned
his face up toward me which meant his tongue left off its advance
backwards and he gave me his real warm smile and asked if I really
thought his hair was pretty.  Being truthful, I said I did.  There
was a lot of it and it was a chestnut color but it had little
specks of a golden sort here and there and it was soft and wavy
over his ears.  He said that Luther did it for him and he was glad
I liked it, his hair, that is, because some of the others had made
fun of it for being sort of South Beach.  I acted like I
understood what he was saying and sympathized, and I did notice
that the hair on his chest and down around his special parts
didn't have no golden specks and was more a black than a chestnut
color so I guessed that whatever Luther did had improved on
nature.

	Nature had given Jack some better than run-of-the-mill
attractions down where his hair was more of a black than a
chestnut color, but when I moved in close-up, I saw that his nuts,
which were a nice size and distance down between his legs, were
bald, his nuts, that is.  That was one for the record books, too,
I guess, being that all the other sets of nuts I'd had occasion to
look at close-up had some amount of hair growing on them or out of
them, whichever it is.  Jack must have been watching me do my
inspection because he told me not to worry, he shaved his nuts.
Some of his friends, he said, liked them better without hair which
can come off between your teeth or stick to your tongue and kind
of cut down on the overall pleasure of a friendly blow-job was his
thinking he said.  So I asked if any hair had come off my nuts
whilst his tongue had been on patrol, and he said No and besides
he didn't mind if it did.  It was just some of his friends was
picky.

	I wondered if I'd ever have friends I cared for enough to
take a razor to my nuts, but I thought maybe I was doing too much
talking and not enough of what I'd told Jack I wouldn't mind doing
with his better than run-of-the-mill special parts.  Uncle Buddy
always likes me to have at least one hand on his butt to steady
him when my mouth starts warming up his pecker so the first thing
I did was put a hand between Jack's legs and part way up the
middle of his backside which turned out to please Jack more than
somewhat judging by the way he wiggled his bottom against my hand.
Then I decided that if he could put his tongue where he had put it
on me, I could do the same for him.  What I did was slap his nuts
around some with my tongue and squeeze them a little with my lips
and even though I know I didn't have the expert touch that Jack
did, I heard him moaning some whilst I slapped and squeezed and I
guessed they was the moans of a happy man.

	Uncle Buddy is the silent type, but I'd heard truckdrivers
make noises like the ones Jack was making and I knew from the way
some of them told me I was the best cock-sucking hitchhiker they'd
ever had on their rig that noises like the ones Jack was making
were signs of contentment and not of distress.

	Still, if Jack's condition was anything like mine, big and
stiff, that is, there was only so much contentment that a tongue
on the nuts could provide, so I left off that activity and worked
myself around to where I could get Jack into my mouth, Jack's
cock, that is.  It, Jack's cock, that is, might have been
something of a challenge to someone who hadn't had the practice
I'd had on Uncle Buddy for some six years.  Like I said, Jack was
well set-up and his attractions were better than run-of-the-mill
and after what my tongue had been doing to his nuts, he was slick
and eager and a regular eyeful.  And mouthful.

	Using the hand that wasn't halfway up his backside, I sort of
steered him between my lips and almost but not quite to the back
of my mouth.  I thought I'd let him think he was nearly too much
for me to handle because I'd noticed that some fellows whose
attractions were definitely less than run-of-the-mill liked it a
lot when I pretended to choke on them, their attractions, that is.
I didn't pretend to choke on Jack but I took it slow and easy at
the first sort of to get used to having him resting in my mouth
and sort of to get him used to being there.

	Jack returned the favor.  He didn't pretend to choke neither
and he took me in slow and easy at the first too and pretty soon
from not having known our names, that is he not having known mine
nor me his name, two hours before, we had gotten about as close to
one another as two fellows can get.  His nuts were on my chin and
my nose was in his hair, the part of it that was more black than a
chestnut color and his face was in a similar relationship to my
nuts and hair that was a darker brown than the rest of my hair.
And his finger was up my ass.  Which really made it a banner day
because that was a first, too, a first for me, that is.  Not Uncle
Buddy nor no truck driver nor the fly-fisherman had ever put a
finger there though Uncle Buddy had regularly put another part of
himself farther in than Jack's finger and one truck driver had
sort of bounced me on his lap once to see could my asshole do for
him what my mouth had is what he said.

	But a strong, curious finger was a first for me and something
I knew I'd remember right along with the elk and the one hundred
per cent naked crowd in the hot tub and the kissing and the tongue
patrol.  There's a spot inside you that if it gets rubbed you get
all warm and stiff and big, and big as he was, still is, Uncle
Buddy would hit that spot more often than not when he had me on my
back with my legs around him and his war club of a pecker going in
and out of me.  So I knew what was happening when Jack's finger
suddenly put in an appearance on the same territory.  The
difference was that Uncle Buddy took a fairly direct and hard-
hitting approach to my ass and Jack's finger was a lot more sneaky
and delicate.  Which only made it more exciting and got me as warm
and as big and as stiff as I'd ever been until pretty quick I had
to open up the valves and let go.

	As soon as I did that, open up the valves and let go, that
is, I opened up the back of my throat, too, and let Jack go in a
lot farther and a lot deeper than he'd been getting so far and
whether because of the surprise or the extra distance, that was
enough for him to open his valves up and let go, too.  He moaned
some at that and pretty loud, too, and so did I, and we held on to
each other tight the way they say drowning men do and along with
all the other firsts of that day I felt like I had found a real
close personal friend which was not a feeling I had had before
with any of the truck-drivers or the fly-fisherman or even Uncle
Buddy, who was, still is, my uncle which makes him special but not
what I can call a real close personal friend.

	After we'd finished moaning and holding each other tight, we
went back to where we'd started which was kissing and Jack's
tongue scurrying around in my mouth like a rain-soaked chipmunk
hunting up a missing nut.  In between scurrying, Jack said things
I'd never heard before like that I was "out of sight" and
"awesome" and "cute enough to take home for supper."  He even
asked me where I'd been all his life and when I said I'd been just
up the road across the border in Montana for almost 20 years, he
held me real tight and said that he'd been 29 years in the
southern part of California and enough was enough why didn't him
and me settle down now in the same part of the country because we
couldn't go on meeting like this.

	I honestly didn't know what to say to that.  So I said I
thought I should sleep on it and would he mind if I took 40 winks
on his bed then because what with the elk and the walk and the hot
tub and the kissing and all, I was suddenly feeling tired.  And
Jack said he was an inconsiderate fool and pulled me tight up
against him and said we could sleep together which is what we did
even though we were both one hundred percent naked and the air in
the cabin was starting to get chilly because the sun was setting.

	It was full dark when somebody, Luther probably because he
was Best Boy and did a little bit of everything, banged on the
cabin door and yelled that chow was ready and we should get our
asses in gear or it, chow, that is, would be all gone before we
got any.  Jack asked me if I was hungry and, being truthful, I
said I was on account of it had been a strenuous day.  And
besides, Jack said, "you're a growing boy" which I was on account
of what his fingers were doing to the part of me that gets big and
stiff when somebody's fingers get to rubbing up against it.  Then
he laughed and he kissed me, and I kissed him back and I set my
fingers to moving around, too, but he said we ought to get
dressed and he'd find some clothes for me because we weren't going
to eat in the hot tub this time.

	What he found for me to wear was what he called sweats that I
thought had his name written on them top and bottom, but he said
Versace was not his name and was pronounced vur-satchay, not veer-
sayse, and he said he loved it that I didn't know about Versace
who was dead anyway and didn't really deserve all the fuss people
made over him alive or dead.  More important was that the sweats
which were just fancy warm-up pants and shirt in a color Jack said
was oburjean was on the small side.  Not for Jack, that is, but
for me so that when I wriggled into the bottoms I had to leave the
drawstring loose and even so they was so tight across my bottom
and my front that it was a little like having some parts floating
in the hot tub all over again.  The top was snug too and it ended
above where the bottom started so that my belly-button, which Jack
said was too cute for words, was as much on show as if me and it
were back at the hot tub where, as far as I knew, it, my belly-
button, that is, hadn't caused much comment.

	Jack gave me some slippers so I wouldn't get no more
splinters and he pulled on a pair of jeans that was so tight on
him I knew I couldn't never get into them and a sweater and shoes
and then he kissed me again and what he said was it was time I met
my competition.  By which he meant the Twink, whose rightful name
was Jason Button and who only ate things he said hadn't had a
mother which meant that there was still some steaks left when Jack
and me got to the X Bar L ranch resort's chow hall.  All the
fellows from the hot tub was there and Dick B. Long was making an
effort to talk but since he picked Uncle Buddy to talk with, who
is the silent type, like I said, he, Dick B., that is, wasn't
getting all that far in the talk department.  Uncle Buddy was
wearing some chinos that was only a little snug across his bottom
and his front and a really pretty soft sweater in a color Luther
said was shartrooze.  It, the sweater, that is, was not only fuzzy
and soft but it had a kind of plunging neckline, which Luther said
was called a veeneck, that meant you could see a good deal of
Uncle Buddy's chest though not as much as at the hot tub where it,
his chest, that is, hadn't caused no more comment than my belly
button.

	It was pretty clear that Luther had dressed Uncle Buddy in
some of his clothes and, which was really nice, had finished the
job of smoothing and unsnarling Uncle Buddy's hair which had been
brushed too so much that it kind of shone.  Luther probably hadn't
had much time to do anything more with Uncle Buddy because, Jack
said, Luther was the chief cook and bottle-washer in the big-time
film crew.  He had made the steaks and the baked potatos and the
salad that all of us was eating except for the Twink who didn't
eat no steak because it had had a mother.

	The Twink sat at one end of the table and Dick B. Long sat at
the other and now and then one of them would kind of glare at the
other like Princess Leia in "Star Wars" the time Luke and Han Solo
and Chewbacca the Wookie first came to rescue her on the Death
Star.  Whatever "creative differences" was I could see they was
unpleasant and I felt sorry for Jack who I liked more and more
partly I think because he showed that he liked me too.  Once he'd
cut up his steak, for instance, and had one hand free, he started
to pat and smooth me down underneath the table and he whispered in
my ear while he was doing it, patting and smoothing me underneath
the table, that is, that I didn't ever have to worry about the
Twink trying to eat me seeing as how I had a mother.   "He'll
never know what he missed," Jack said, and he laughed and I
laughed too so hard that some of the beer I was drinking came out
of my nose and Uncle Buddy gave me his own version of the pissed-
off Princess Leia look.

	Not that Uncle Buddy and me was anything but kin.  I had my
truck-drivers and the fly-fisherman from Ohio, and Uncle Buddy had
Cheryl from the high school homemakers' course that most of the
football team took and had her pretty often to hear him tell it.
Plus he had young Jimmy Santangelo who had seen Uncle Buddy go
from zero to sixty in the men's room of the gas station and feed
and grain store where young Jimmy worked and had pestered Uncle
Buddy ever since until they came to an agreement that involved
meeting regular-like in the men's room of the gas station and feed
and grain store where young Jimmy worked.  And that's not counting
the heifer.  So Uncle Buddy had no cause to be jealous of me for
having found a real close personal friend like Jack.  It was more
like he felt left out of the fun we was having at the table, Jack
and me, that is, whilst Dick B. Long tried to talk with him not
knowing that Uncle Buddy is the silent type.

	To his credit, Luther had some kind of special instinct about
not letting people feel left out so whenever he walked past Uncle
Buddy which he did a lot going back and forth to the kitchen with
dirty plates and clean ones he, Luther, that is, would sort of pat
Uncle Buddy on the shoulders and smooth him down his back and
generally make it clear that Uncle Buddy had no cause to feel left
out.  He even served Uncle Buddy the biggest slice of peach pie as
though he knew that Uncle Buddy liked peach pie better than almost
anything.

	Dick B. Long marked how big Uncle Buddy's slice was and asked
something like who's the Star around here, but Luther just patted
and smoothed Dick B. some and said the poor boy needed building
up.  "Not so you'd notice" is what Dick B. answered and looked
down to where Uncle Buddy's borrowed chinos was stretching across
his front.  "You ain't seen nothing yet" is what Luther said which
made me wonder if he'd maybe had more time with Uncle Buddy than I
thought he could have had what with making the steaks and the
baked potatos and the salad and the pie like he, Luther, that is,
had.

	He made the coffee, too, and whilst we was drinking it, Jack
asked me would it be all right if I bunked with him in his cabin
which I said I'd be real honored to do if it wasn't any trouble.
He said it wasn't and did some rubbing up against me to show he
meant it so I believed he was being truthful and not just
hospitable behind that nice warm smile of his.  He, Jack, that is,
said he and Bernie had to do some management work with the Twink
after supper that might take some time, the work, that is, because
what he called the "artistic temperament" was a complicated
phenomenon is what he said and the Twink had a lot of it, artistic
temperament, that is.  I said I'd be glad to wait for Jack in his
cabin, but Jack said that the cabin was where he and Bernie and
the Twink were going to take their meeting is the way he put it.
He said he'd be glad if I tried my hand at cheering up Dick B.
Long whose temperament wasn't so much the problem as his equipment
which had been around the track a while is what Jack said and
wasn't always firing on all eight cylinders any more.

	I asked what might be a good way to cheer up Dick B. Long and
Jack said I should ask him if he'd show me some of his work which
he could do in the lounge that the X Bar L ranch resort had where
there was a big-screen television set and a videotape player.
What Jack said was that a video called "Boys A-Simmer" was one of
the best examples of Dick B. Long's performances as a Star and
that Luther had a copy of it if Dick B. Long didn't but he
generally traveled with one, the video, that is, to watch by
himself if he needed to be reminded of his past triumphs and oil
his equipment is how Jack explained it.  Jack was right.  Dick B.
Long perked right up when I asked could I see some of his work
because Jack had told me it would be an education for me as well
as a pleasant way to pass the time and to get to know Dick B.
better.  Dick B. said he'd be pleased to show me some examples and
he'd go to his cabin to get a tape of "Boys A-Simmer" and meet me
in the lounge where the big-screen television set and videotape
machine was.

	Arnie heard what we said to one another and said he'd like to
come along too because he'd been the cameraman on that shoot and
he might pick up a few pointers by watching what he'd done in his
stylistic salad days is what he said.  I thought Uncle Buddy might
enjoy seeing what Dick B. Long and Arnie had done together, but
when I found him, he was in the kitchen and at the sink washing
and scrubbing pots and pans. He'd taken off Luther's nice,
shartrooz, fuzzy sweater so his chest was uncovered and Luther was
keeping it dry, Uncle Buddy's chest, that is, by licking up the
drops of water that splashed around during the washing and
scrubbing and I could see that he, Uncle Buddy, that is, was
enjoying himself plenty without seeing no videotape.  For that
matter, Luther looked like he was enjoying himself, too, and I
thought that maybe Uncle Buddy had been lucky enough to find
himself a real close personal friend like I'd found Jack and all
on account of that elk.

	So it was just me and Arnie and Dick B. Long, the Star, in
the lounge of the X Bar L ranch resort, which was dark, and we
each had separate chairs in front of the big-screen TV because
watching a videotape wasn't like being in a hot tub.  It was more
private-like and for a good reason as I found out.  At the start
of the videotape, when Dick B. Long was standing in a locker room
and chewing out five young men who I guessed belonged to a
basketball team, I thought "Boys-a-Simmer" was going to be a come-
from-behind sports movie like "Hoosiers" maybe with Dick B. Long
being Gene Hackman, who I really admire for all the different
parts he plays in movies.  But "Boys-a-Simmer" wasn't like
"Hoosiers" in which I don't recall seeing any players in
jockstraps or one hundred percent naked the way they was in this
locker room.  Plus Gene Hackman never grabbed any of his players
by their dicks which is what Dick B. Long did to one of the
players he was chewing out and dragged him out of the locker room
and into his office, Dick B. Long's office, that is, not Gene
Hackman's.

	What happened in that office was that Dick B. Long said what
he already said once in the locker room which was that he was
going to build discipline in this sorry team or know the reason
why and he was going to start by building respect for him, the
coach.  He told the player he had dragged there to get on his
knees and to stay there while Dick B. Long took off his clothes
except for his jockstrap which he made the player kiss and lick
and generally mess around with in his mouth.  You could see that
the young player at first didn't want no part of this kind of
discipline but he learned respect pretty quick when Dick B. Long
made him pull the jockstrap off with his teeth.  What Dick B. Long
had in that jockstrap would have earned him respect from Michael
Jordan or Magic Johnson, I bet.  It would have earned him respect
from Andy Jackson, my granddad's prize bull, that he named for the
first President from Tennessee, which is where he, my granddad,
that is, grew up.

	In other words, there was nothing run-of-the-mill about Dick
B. Long.  Up on the big-screen TV, at any rate, his cock looked
like an ax handle, and when that jockstrap came down and that cock
came up, I gave a whistle of surprise and admiration and respect.
"Just about the biggest one in the business," Arnie said.  "Damn
hard to get it all in one frame of a close-up, I can tell you."  I
looked at Dick B. Long and at least his head wasn't hanging down
no more, but I could see he was trying to be modest, the way a
Star ought to be, I guess.  He didn't say nothing but just kept
his eyes on the big-screen TV.  Which is where he had one young
player after another learn to respect him by sucking on that ax
handle or getting fucked by it or often as not both.  And the
interesting thing was how well this treatment worked in shaping up
that team, because after the young players had learned respect for
Dick B. Long, they took a real interest in one another that was a
pleasure to see.

	Even if they had been nothing but "sorry-assed losers" was
the way Dick B. Long called them in the locker room and his
office, those boys turned into a team that was real close-knit,
and it was all Dick B. Long's doing.  It was a genuinely inspiring
story.  I thought the big moment would come on a basketball court
with the game in its final seconds and maybe one of the white
players would dribble real fast and sneaky down court and look
like he was going up for a throw but instead pass the ball off to
the one black dude on the team for a three-pointer that would win
the game as the buzzer sounded.  But the videotape didn't show
that kind of action.  The big moment actually came by a swimming
pool when Dick B. Long took on four of the five players at once
with two of them taking turns trying to swallow his ax handle and
another, the black dude who was a credit to his race even if he
couldn't match Dick B. Long or even Andy Jackson, putting it to
Dick B. Long from behind.  And while that was going on, Dick B.
Long was treating another player, a white one, to a serious blow
job and the black dude was giving the same treatment to the fifth
player.  Just to show you how teamwork had improved, all six
fellows popped at the same time with somebody you couldn't see,
just hear, playing a big drum faster and faster and louder and
louder as the team and the coach built up steam and finally opened
the valves.

	I was really impressed, and I said so.  "That was something I
never expected to see in all my life" is what I told Dick B. Long,
though I didn't tell him that the day had been full of a lot of
somethings I had never expected, like the elk and the hot tub and
the kissing and tongue patrolling and fingering with Jack.  I told
him too that I thought he should be very proud of what he did to
those "sorry-assed losers" to build discipline and respect and
teamwork.  "It's like a lesson for everybody who wants to get on
with other people and help them be winners" is what I did say, and
then I told him I thought his cock had Andy Jackson beat by a
country mile, though I didn't tell him Andy was a bull, just let
him think that Andy was an acquaintance of mine with a cock that
up till then I had considered the biggest one I knew about.

	Dick B. Long seemed to be pleased by what I said, but before
we could get to talking some more about the team, Arnie butted in.
"I hate pool shoots" is what he said, so I asked him why, and he
told me that the light dancing on the water "fucks up all your
values."  He said I probably hadn't noticed, but when the black
dude pulls out of Dick B. Long and opens up his valves, the "money
shot" is what he called it was almost lost because the contrast
with the skin of Dick B. Long's back and the stuff the black dude
lets go on it is so washed out it's hard to see how really big a
load the black dude dumped.  I said I had been real impressed and
now that I knew how hard it was to take pictures like that next to
a swimming pool I was even more impressed and Arnie should be
proud, too, of what he'd done.

	Arnie said he hoped I was being truthful and when he turned
on the light so that Dick B. Long could see to rewind his tape,
he, Arnie, that is, looked at me and said he guessed I was, being
truthful, that is, because it was plain to see that his
photography had had an inspiring effect on me.  I tried to laugh
but I knew what he meant.  In the tight sweat outfit which Jack
had loaned me my own pecker had gotten adequate to the occasion
and there was no way to hide it, my pecker, that is.  "Looks like
you've got a new fan, Dickiebird," is what Arnie said and he was
smiling in a nice way, and Dick B. Long turned around and looked
at me and he smiled, too, in a nice way, too.

	I smiled back.  What else was I going to do?  And Arnie moved
over to my chair and he looked at me real close and he looked at
Dick B. Long.  "What do you think, Dick B.?  Couldn't the kid here
be a back-up Twink if we had to like improvise, you know?  Looks
like he's got what it takes, I'd say" is what he said to Dick B.
Long.  Then he swung back to me and reached down the front of my
outfit.  "Do you mind if I just check things out?" is what he
said, but by then he was pretty far along with the checking out so
it was too late to say if I minded or I didn't mind and to be
truthful I was too surprised to take offense even when Arnie
pulled it, the outfit, that is, down to my knees, so that the
parts of me that had been floating in the hot tub were sticking
straight out and hanging down for Arnie and Dick B. Long to
appreciate which is what they both did.

	"That's a real pretty cock" is what Dick B. Long said.

	"And check out his ass" is what Arnie said.  "The kid is
grade-A Twink material, Dickiebird, Grade-A prime.  What do you
say, kid?  How would you like to get to know the Dickster here
real well?"

	I always try to be truthful.  I was brought up that way and I
have marks on my bottom from my momma's hairbrush and my dad's
belt that don't exactly show no more, the marks, that is, but I
know they're there and I know why.  For when I hadn't been
truthful.  So I was getting ready to tell Arnie that I certainly
felt a lot of admiration for Dick B. Long and was always ready to
get to know people I admired, but if he meant did I want Dick B.
Long to come at me with his ax handle of a cock, then I wasn't
sure that my ass or any other part of me was adequate to the
occasion.

	I was looking for the right words to say how I felt without
making Dick B. Long feel bad, but it turned out I didn't have to
do any fancy footwork with my mouth because Dick B. Long came over
to me and pulled my outfit back up my legs to where it covered
most of me except my belly-button.  Then he said to Arnie to stop
blowing smoke which I didn't understand because Arnie didn't have
no cigarette.  "Get real, Arnie" is what Dick B. Long also said.
"With all the footage of the Twink you've already took and all the
contract language your sweetheart Bernie signed on to it would be
a financial disaster" is the way he put it to use a back-up Twink
with the Project "nearly in the can."

	"Nothing against you, Seth" is what Dick B. Long said to me
when he finished explaining what he called "the facts of life" to
Arnie.  "You've got what it takes, kiddo, I can see that."  And
feel it, too, is what he said, because his hand was smoothing and
patting my behind like Luther had been smoothing and patting Uncle
Buddy.  I was real flattered that a Star remembered my name and so
I thanked him and said I really would like to get to know him and
maybe help him with the problem he was having that I could see was
upsetting him.  Arnie gave me a wink that I didn't totally
understand and said he'd leave us to it and wished me luck, and me
and Dick B. Long sat down on a big sofa there in the lounge of the
X Bar L ranch resort and he commenced to tell me that the problem
was with the Twink and it was driving him, Dick B. Long, that is,
out of his mind is the way he expressed it.

	The way he spelled it out was that the Twink was playing mind
games with him because the Twink thought he, the Twink, that is,
oughtta be the Star and Dick B. Long just part of the Supporting
Cast because Dick B. had been around a while and everybody in the
world already knew every inch of his cock by heart whilst the
Twink was a discovery sensation who had so many hits on his web
page he'd given up counting.  I didn't understand all the words
Dick B. Long used but I got his drift.  I recollected how it
had been when a neighbor asked my dad could he leave his young
bull at our place for a day or two and my dad had said yes and
Andy Jackson had gotten real worried and despondent and off his
feed.  So I thought I understood what was troubling Dick B. Long
and I tried to cheer him up some by saying the Twink was dead
wrong.  Not everybody in the world knew every inch of his cock,
Dick B. Long's cock, that is, by heart.  I had just seen it for
the first time is what I said and Uncle Buddy hadn't never seen it
at all.  "But I know he'd like to" is what I said "because it is a
wonder of nature and it looks real good on you, Mr. Long" is more
of what I said.  All of which was truthful.

	Dick B. Long thanked me, but what he said was that it could
be a heavy burden to carry a wonder of nature down there between
your legs since that's the only part of you some people took any
interest in was how he put it and your other abilities and talents
just got ignored.  Like his voice.  Dick B. Long said he had a
real pleasant baritone and a wide reper-twar is the word he used
of Broadway show tunes and country and western, but there was
never no place for musical numbers in adult videos is what he
complained and producers like Bernie only wanted to see him
plowing some Twink's ass and all their asses looked the same by
now and the thrill was pretty well gone so it was no wonder if
now and then he couldn't get it up is what Dick B. Long told me
with his real pleasant baritone choking up now and then.

	Worst of all, and it was about here that Dick B. Long pulled
me up against him and put his forehead down next to my neck and
really did choke up, is when a pissant dickless wonder with a
pretty face and a six-pack like some belly dancer says he don't
want to spread his legs for me because he'll have to have plastic
surgery on his asshole afterwards which his HMO won't pay for and
besides he don't want to be topped by no growtesk has-been with
hair growing on his back.  All of which, Dick B. Long made real
clear, was things the Twink, who Dick B. Long described as a
pissant dickless wonder, had said about him, Dick B. Long, that
is, and some of them to his face.

	I told Dick B. Long he had no call to be so upset.  I'd met
truckdrivers is what I said that had hair on their backs and their
shoulders so thick they hardly had to wear shirts except in the
dead of winter and they wasn't the least bit growtesk.  They was
fully operational in my experience is what I said and some of them
would have made Andy Jackson take notice even if they wasn't no
competition for you, Dick B. Long, that is, is the way I tried to
cheer him up.

	At least he laughed when I finished, even if it was a pretty
short laugh, more like a pleasant baritone bark, the kind that
Sammy, my part-beagle, gives when I come home and he's glad to see
me but still wonders where I've been.  He, Dick B. Long, that is,
not Sammy, said hair was alright on truckdrivers but bad news on a
Star stud in the adult video business unless it was for a fetish
film that he didn't want no part of because it would be the end of
his career in the mainstream.  Since I hadn't never heard of
fetish films, I couldn't give much answer to Dick B. Long on that
point so I just did some smoothing and patting of his back where
the hair could be growing even though on account of his shirt,
which was flannel and a nice plaid pattern, I couldn't tell if
hair was really growing or not.

	Dick B. Long patted and smoothed me back and I began to feel
real close to him and unhappy for him that the pissant dickless
wonder was driving him out of his mind and then I had a thought.
Maybe it was provoked by Dick B. Long taking one of my hands and
putting it down between his legs so I could feel how close to me
he said he was beginning to feel.  I knew from hitchhiking with
truckdrivers what was probably coming next and even though it
occurred to me that some time working on Dick B. Long's ax handle
of a cock would make this day something I'd want to write up for
my descendants to know about when I was dead, I truthfully felt
that it was honor enough to have a Star want to do those things
with me and that I'd prefer doing them with Jack who came into the
X Bar L ranch resort's lounge just about then and said he had a
fire burning in his cabin and not just in the fireplace neither
and was I ready to come with him and get warm.

	Which I was, ready, that is.  I didn't want to give no
offense, though, to Dick B. Long who was doing me the honor of
holding my hand on a part of his jeans where I could feel his ax
handle of a cock starting in to stretch out.  Besides, Dick B.
Long had said that the way the Twink was treating him was just
about the most hurtful rejection a man of his position in the
adult video industry could suffer and it was taking a terrible
toll on his self-respect is what he said.  Well, sir, that was it,
wasn't it? is what I thought when Dick B. Long commenced to talk
about respect.  That is what he had taught those players in "Boys
a-Simmer" to give him and it is what had made that story so
inspiring.

	So my idea was to find a way to make the Twink give Dick B.
Long that kind of respect and I thought Uncle Buddy might just be
able to help out in bringing the Twink around.	I didn't want to
spell it all out to Dick B. Long just then, though, but I did tell
him I admired the way he was bearing up under such a burden of
suffering and I wanted to do what I could to help him if he'd let
me.  Which was maybe not exactly the right thing to say because it
caused him to put his hand between my legs and say he'd be
grateful for my help and he had a fireplace in his cabin, too.  He
had a big hand, which was logical considering how big other parts
of him was, and I enjoyed having him put it where he had put it,
his hand, that is, whilst my hand could feel him growing and
stiffening up inside his jeans.  But I said I had been thinking
about another kind of help and that I had an idea that might get
the Twink to show Dick B. Long the respect he deserved and get
with it as a team player is what I said.  Since I was just a stray
who'd wandered into this corral, the big-time film crew, that is,
what I said is I thought I should tell Jack about my idea and
see what he thought of it.

	Dick B. Long looked at me not real pleased but not pissed-off
neither like Princess Leia and what he said was he understood, but
his head dropped down between his shoulders like it, his head,
that is, had done in the hot tub and I could see his feelings
was hurt and I had done the hurting.  Which was the last thing I
wanted to do.   I really did respect him, so I took his hand off
me and my hand off him and I got up off the sofa and went to where
Jack was standing and whispered to him to go back to the cabin and
bank the fire and I'd come along presently.  Then I went back to
the sofa and sat down real close to Dick B. Long and said I wanted
to ask a favor if that was all right.  Which he said it was, to
ask a favor, that is, and what did I want.

	I said I wanted to kiss him.  I'd never kissed a Star is what
I said and until today I never kissed nobody of the male
persuasion.  And besides, I really like you and respect you is
what I told Dick B. Long and I was being truthful, and it would
mean a lot to me to have a kiss of yours that I would always
remember.  Dick B. Long raised up his head then and he looked at
me as if he wanted to be sure I was being truthful and he must
have satisfied himself that I was because he put his arms around
me and he put our mouths together and we kissed and he commenced
to cry.

	I felt real ashamed then because I hadn't wanted to make Dick
B. Long cry.  My idea had been to cheer him up and maybe show him
some respect so that he'd feel better about himself and look what
happened was our lips touched and that set him off to sobbing.  So
I started to say how sorry I was that I'd upset him and he said I
hadn't, I'd made him happy and when he was happy sometimes he
cried and he was the one who was sorry is what he said for
confusing me.  "I don't get kissed much" is what he said "at
least not on the mouth and not by a smart, handsome youngster like
you are, Seth," is the compliment he paid me.  "Guys put their
mouths on my prick a lot and sometimes on my butthole" is what he
said "but that is not real, human contact like what you just did
for me and I will always be grateful."  And he sobbed some more
and I used my fingers to brush some tears off his cheeks and I
kissed him again, maybe a little harder than the first time,
and I just held him close to me till he seemed to quieten down and
pull the reins up on himself.

	"Thank you, Seth" is what he said then and "you go talk with
Jack now and tell him your idea and tell him, too, that he's lucky
to have you doing his thinking for him."  And he, Dick B. Long,
that is, smiled.  And I smiled back because I was so pleased that
I'd gotten Dick. B. Long to smile at all considering how hangdog
he'd been.  He told me he'd watch himself some TV, probably, or
maybe one of his other films, but he'd be all right on his own and
it was thanks to me and Jack was lucky is what he said a second
time and I'd better go now or he, Dick B. Long, that is, might
change his mind about keeping our human contact to mouth kissing.
And he smiled again and we had a hug without a kiss and I went to
Jack's cabin where the fire was burning.

	Jack was waiting for me by it, the fire, that is, and since
it was warm there, he wasn't wearing much, just the smallest pair
of underpants I'd ever seen that looked real good on him because
they made his special attractions bunch out in a different way
than from the way they had been when I last saw them and since
there was just the firelight on them, his underpants and special
attractions, that is, the flickering made things change size back
and forth.  It was very interesting and I thought it would have
been a challenge for Arnie like by the pool only different.  Jack
gave me his real, warm smile when he saw where I was looking but
he teased me, too, because he said he'd figured that I was the
fickle type more than the fucking type and was probably sampling
Dick B. Long's wares and wouldn't want to bother with him, Jack,
that is, no more.  To which I said I wasn't no fickle type at all
and I hoped I was the fucking type and what was we waiting
on is what I asked.

	So we didn't wait any more time than it took Jack to get me
out of the sweats he had gotten me into before supper and for me
to get him out of those underpants that was all he had on and for
both of us to get from the fireplace to the bed where I said I was
the fucking type who liked being fucked and would he like to find
out how much I liked it, being fucked, that is.  He said he had a
reasonable amount of curiosity on that point and would be glad to
have a demonstration if I would let him demonstrate something he
thought might come as a pleasant surprise for me.  It was, the
demonstration, that is, a very pleasant surprise since the
surprise was having Jack put his tongue where I had never thought
of a tongue getting put which was on my rear end and even in it,
my rear end, that is.  If Jack hadn't had his arms around my waist
and his fingers around my pecker pretty tight, I wouldn't be
surprised if I wouldn't have gone straight up off that bed onto
the ceiling when Jack's tongue got put where it got put.  Even if
I hadn't worked Dick B. Long's axhandle of a cock after all, when
Jack's tongue commenced working me I knew that the day had turned
into one I would have to write down for my descendants to know
about after I was dead.  Which is why I am doing that, writing it
down, that is, which you know because you are reading what I am
writing.

	The fucking part was worth writing about, too, because Jack
and me fit together so good that he just put himself, not his
tongue, that is, into me in one considerate, firm push that filled
me right up without hurting me one bit.  And the best of it was
the things we said to each other whilst the fucking progressed
about how much I liked having his cock in me and how good he said
it felt to be there, inside me, that is, and how I had never felt
so good having anybody fuck me the way he was fucking me and how
he had never felt so right as he felt with my ankles around his
neck and my eyes shining up at him so happy and smart.  That was
the best of being fucked by Jack, but almost as good was when we
said the same things to each other when it got to be my turn to
fuck him except, of course, he was the one saying how good my dick
felt inside him and I was the one who said the light in his eyes
made me feel I had found a real, close personal friend which I had
always wanted and now had, and all on account of that elk.

	We kissed a lot, too, not during the fucking that much but in
between and afterwards and Jack said he meant it about what he had
said before about us both living in the same part of the country.
I said did he think he'd like it on a ranch, and he said did I
think I'd like it in Venice, California which has a big beach and
lots of good restaurants.  And I said does it have police on
bicycles in tight pants, the police, that is, or is that just
something the TV made up and he said how would people on a ranch
feel about men who couldn't ride horses and felt real close to
other men.  And I said could he ride a tractor and he said could I
ride a bicycle and we started to laugh and to laugh and then went
to kissing and to patting and to smoothing parts of each other
till pretty soon we were all ready to get close to each other
again.

	Jack said it was my turn to go first and I said that was all
right with me if I could get him to kneel up some so I could come
at him from behind because I liked looking him in the eyes but I
also liked slamming into his pretty butt the way we did it on the
ranch with the heifers if the need was great.  He asked was I
joking and I said I was the most truthful person he'd ever meet
and the truth was I wanted to fuck him without no more small talk.
Jack said he'd take that as a compliment and he got up on his
knees and his hands and said he was making me a present of his
pretty butt and did I want him to moo.  Only if he felt like it is
what I said which is when I put my face against his pretty butt
and my tongue where his tongue had been but in his butt, not in
mine, that is, and he did moo while my tongue went at him but then
he stopped and he quicklike rolled over and grabbed me and hugged
me so tight I thought I almost wouldn't be able to breathe.

	"Do you believe in love at first sight, Seth?" is what he
asked me and he wasn't laughing and neither was I partly because I
was concentrating on breathing.  So I said I didn't have no
experience of love but in most of the movies where people end up
in love they start out not liking each other like Princess Leia
and Han Solo, for one example.  Jack said movies wasn't always
like real life and he should know since he made movies
and would I believe that he, Jack, that is, had fallen in love
with me when I fell into his lap at the hot tub and could I fall
in love with him is what he asked still hugging me real
tight.  I started to say that his first sight of me was not at the
hot tub but then I thought that maybe he meant first sight one
hundred percent naked which was at the hot tub so what I said was
that if having him for my first real close personal friend and
being in love with him were the same thing or almost the same
thing that I already was in love with him and I hugged him as
tight as he'd been hugging me.

	It was Dick B. Long all over again.  Jack started in to cry
but he right off told me not to worry he was crying because he was
happy.  He had never been so happy is what he said and if nothing
else good came from this retreat at the X Bar L ranch resort it
wouldn't matter because he had found love and I was it.  He kissed
me about then and I kissed him back and I put out my tongue and
mopped up the little tears that was on his cheeks and even though
I'm not the silent type like Uncle Buddy I just couldn't say one
single thing so I hugged Jack to me and he hugged me to him and I
felt like we fitted together perfect even though both of us were
big and stiff and the more we rubbed against each other the bigger
and stiffer we got.

	After a while Jack said he thought it was time he practiced
some more on his mooing in case he had to pretend some day that he
was a heifer on a ranch with me and was I about ready to fuck him
was what he asked.  I was, ready, that is, and I told him so
and then I did it and he practiced his mooing till he got so good
I told him he could pass for a heifer without no trouble and he
wiggled his pretty butt under me and that was all it took to open
my valves for real.  Jack asked me had it been good and because
I'm truthful I told him it had been better than good that it had
been the best I'd ever known with or without no mooing and did
being in love make fucking so amazing is what I asked.  Being in
love makes everything amazing is what Jack told me, and I think
he's right.

	It certainly made it amazing when he fucked me again even
though he did it just the way we'd done it before because he said
it was real important to him to look at my eyes whilst he plowed
my ass.  I didn't moo but I did cry which I hadn't done since Obi
Wan Kenobi died on the Death Star and the crying I did whilst I
looked up at Jack and felt him going deeper and deeper into me was
because I was happy which I wasn't when I saw Obi Wan take that
hit from the light sword.  I was happy because I could see Jack's
real warm smile and know that I was the reason for it.  It was
amazing and so was Jack's light sword if you want to call it that.

	I even amazed myself a little while later when Jack said we
should get cleaned up for bed and I said we was already in bed and
he said he meant cleaned up for sleeping unless I absolutely had
to have another fuck.  To be truthful which is what I generally am
I wouldn't have minded another fuck right then but I could see
Jack didn't want to overdo things so I let him take me into the
bathroom and into the shower and it was when he was doing nice
things with a washcloth on my nuts that I amazed myself.  I asked
Jack could he get his razor and would he like to shave my nuts so
that they'd be like his and shave other places I couldn't reach
where he might like it if I didn't have no hair.  Jack said I
didn't have to do that for him, it was friends of his who was
picky about hair is what he said.

	But I said I loved him, Jack, that is, and I wanted to be the
best I could be for him and if that meant having bald nuts it was
the least I could do to make him as happy as he made me and to
show how much I loved and respected him.  Would it be all right if
he did the barbering in the morning is what he asked when
his hand would be steadier because love was making him shake all
over just then and he didn't want to hurt anybody who loved and
respected him the way I did.  And then what he said was "Seth,
baby, lover, sweeetheart, angel boy, nobody before has told me
that he loved me and that he respected me, too.  You are a miracle
man and I am never going to let you go even if it means I have to
learn to drive a tractor."  And he turned off the shower water and
we dried each other with towels and we brushed our teeth and we
got back into the bed one hundred percent naked and wrapped
ourselves around ourselves and I thought I had never felt so good
in all my life and all I wanted was to be like that forever in the
arms of a real close personal friend I loved and respected, too.

	But thinking about being with Jack forever made me think
about Dick B. Long and the idea I'd had about getting the Twink to
respect him like the young players did in "Boys a-Simmer" and even
though I was some fearful of spoiling things with Jack I said I
had to tell him something before I forgot.  Couldn't it wait till
morning is what he asked me because right then his head was full
of beautiful music coming from putting it, his head, that is, on
my chest so he could listen to my heart beat which is what he said
he wanted to do.  And nothing else.  I said please, it wouldn't
take long and he wouldn't even have to move his head just keep one
ear open while I talked.  So he agreed but he gave me a little
pinch just to show he liked touching me better than listening to
me right then and I put my fingers in his pretty hair with the
golden specks to show that I liked touching him too.

	Then was when I told him about watching "Boys a-Simmer" with
its Star and seeing how he had gotten the respect of his young
players and turned them into a team and feeling inspired by that
story.  Jack didn't say nothing right then, but he kind of
yawned which made me think I wasn't getting my idea out the way I
ought to.  So I said it distressed me some to see that Dick B.
Long wasn't getting the Twink's respect like he should be
considering that he, Dick B. Long, that is, was the Star and had a
wonder of nature between his legs that could be a heavy burden
like he'd told me.  Jack yawned again which made me think I still
wasn't getting my idea out so I just flat out asked him if he'd be
interested in a way to get the Twink to respect Dick B. Long.

	Let me tell you about the Twink is how Jack answered me.  He
is nothing but trouble and I don't know why Bernie ever signed him
up for this Project.  He is not a team player, the Twink is who
Jack meant, and he will not make sacrifices for his Art the
way all the rest of us has had to do.  He doesn't respect Dick B.
Long, who is a warhorse in the adult film industry, because he,
the Twink is who Jack meant, doesn't respect anybody.  He is a
one-boy band who would like it best if he could just suck and fuck
himself in front of a camera without no help from nobody else.
And that fool Bernie let him put some fine print in his contract,
the Twink's contract is what Jack meant, that protects him against
"cruel and unusual punishment" and he says that Dick B. Long's
cock is cruel and unusual and he won't let it anywhere near him.
So, yes, is what Jack said, I'd be interested in a way to get the
Twink to put out for Dick B. Long, because if he doesn't, I'll
never get this Project in the can and my career will be over and
I'll have to spend the rest of my life making public service
announcement videos for the home pages of the mentally defective.

	That was when I told Jack about Uncle Buddy and how he could
go from zero to sixty so fast that it frightened the livestock and
would sure as shit scare the Twink and make him, the Twink, that
is, think twice about Dick B. Long.  Right off, Jack was doubtful.
He'd seen Uncle Buddy one hundred percent naked is what he said
and he'd seen Dick B. Long and they wasn't playing in the same
league.  Your uncle is what Jack said is a real handsome young man
but not a patch on you, meaning me, that is, and his cock may look
like something special in Montana but in the adult film industry
it's just run of the mill by the looks of it at the hot tub.  He
and the Twink would make a nice pair, come to think of it, is what
Jack said, but as far as teaching the Twink a lesson, I have my
doubts.

	That's because you haven't seen it with your own eyes is how
I answered him, but I'm pretty sure Luther has and all you have to
do is ask him about Uncle Buddy.  When Uncle Buddy, like I said,
goes from zero to sixty as fast as the Starship Enterprise going
into warp speed, he gets as big as a war club and, close to, his
cock is almost as much a wonder of nature as Dick B. Long's.  If
you give the Twink a choice between Uncle Buddy and Dick B. Long,
I just bet he'll choose the devil he knows.

	How much will you bet? is what Jack asked.

	All the hair on my nuts and other places you might like to
take it from is what I answered.

	Jack kissed me and he hugged me and he said he was sorry he'd
ever told me about his picky friends and he loved me bald or hairy
or in between and always would.  I will check with Luther is what
he said but I don't think I need to because I believe you and I
think you may have solved our problem and saved me from a life of
making public service announcements.  Then he said we should go to
sleep because he did some of his best work in his sleep and he was
going to need to dream up a way to get the Twink into action with
Uncle Buddy so that he, the Twink, that is, would come to respect
Dick B. Long.  I said I'd be glad to help if I could and would he
sleep better if I held on to him or if he held onto me.  He said
he'd like to put his arms around me and his hands on some places
on me and have me back up close to some places on him and that's
how we went to sleep and pretty much how we woke up, too, except
both of us were bigger and stiffer when we woke up then when we
went to sleep.

	I've got it is what Jack said when we woke up, and I know is
what I said back and if you keep on squeezing it like that I'm
going to remember this day almost the way I remember yesterday for
the elk and the hot tub and other things.  Would that be so bad is
what Jack asked.  No, not bad, is how I answered but it might not
be as satisfying for you as I'd like it to be and if it gets to be
a habit every morning we wake up together I'll have a headstart on
the day and you'll be running behind.  Jack laughed and stopped
the squeezing and climbed up over me and kissed me on the mouth
and then on other places like under my ears and around my
bellybutton and said he'd like to make a habit of waking up
together and he once rode a pony at a petting zoo and even though
he was just six years old at the time he wasn't scared and maybe
riding a horse wouldn't be so bad.

	What's a petting zoo is what I asked and Jack said it was
where he was going to keep me if the idea he had that was what
he'd been talking about when he said I've got it worked out right.
What you'd got was my prick is what I said and you're welcome to
it but I don't see how it counts as much of an idea.  The idea is
your Uncle Buddy's prick is how Jack cleared up my confusion and
I'm going to get the Twink to think he's giving it a screen test
as a replacement prick for the one on Dick B. Long that everybody
knows by heart.  If your Uncle Buddy performs the way you say he
does, the Twink will be caught between a rock and hard place and I
will be able to pet you for the rest of my days.  In fact, Jack
said, I'd like to start right now if that's all right with you.

	I said it was, all right, that is, as long as I got to do
some petting back and Jack agreed to my conditions and it was the
nicest start to my day I'd ever had.  Being in love is what makes
everything amazing.  That's what Jack had said.  And he was right.

	He was right about the screen test, too.  I told Uncle Buddy
it would be a wrestling match with the Twink, and Uncle Buddy said
it was all right with him if it was all right with Luther and
Luther talked with Jack who smiled a lot while they were talking
and then he, Luther, that is, said it was all right with him, and
the Twink even said it was all right with him.  At least he said
that after he talked with Jack who didn't smile a lot and talked
about "breach of contract" and how hard it could be to find work
in the adult film industry if you didn't make sacrifices for your
Art.  Of course, the Twink thought it was just a screen test and
Uncle Buddy thought it was just a wrestling match and not even
a real one except that the winner, which is what he was sure to
be, would get to fuck the loser.

	When Uncle Buddy got his special parts squinched up into a
leather sack and a chain clipped to the collar on his neck and his
skin all shined up with baby oil or something, it's true he did
get a little nervous.  He got truly pissed off when Arnie hauled
out the big movie camera, and Luther had to come and calm him
down, Uncle Buddy, that is, because of his modest streak.  It all
took a while but finally Jack motioned to Luther and Luther held a
board up in front of Arnie's camera and took it away and Jack
said "Action" and I unclipped the leash from Uncle Buddy's collar
and Dick B. Long, who had been holding the Twink on another leash,
let go of that and Uncle Buddy and the Twink went for each other.
It was a sight to see and if you're lucky you may see it
someday because Jack says it's the finest screen test he's ever
directed.

	The Twink turned out to be better at wrestling than you would
have thought.  He didn't just have good muscles. He had speed,
too, and he was tricky, but Uncle Buddy was a high-school champion
and he had a few pounds on the Twink and determination besides.
So he was the first to snap the Twink's string that was holding up
the sack where the Twink's parts was all squinched up and once the
Twink's pecker was waving around he seemed so concerned that it
might get hurt he kind of put his attention more on that than on
Uncle Buddy.  Still, he did get Uncle Buddy's leather sack off
him, too, but by then Uncle Buddy had the Twink pretty near pinned
and didn't mind so much that he, Uncle Buddy, that is, was one
hundred percent naked in front of a movie camera.

	Luther was rooting for him and so was I and Uncle Buddy
grinned up at the both of us which is when the Twink tried to grab his
pecker, Uncle Buddy's pecker, that is, and his nuts and Uncle
Buddy, just like you'd expect if you knew him, went right then
from zero to sixty with the result that his pecker was laying
right across the Twink's face and between his eyes when just a
second or two before what there was of it had been resting
on his chest, the Twink's chest, that is.

	"Son of a bitch" is what Bernie said.  "Don't drop the
camera.  Keep shooting." is what Jack said to Arnie who seemed
like he might let go of everything.  "Holy Mother of God" is what
Dick B. Long said and I saw him make the sign of the cross on
himself.  The Twink didn't say anything you could understand at
first.  He just screeched and if he'd had pants on I honestly
think he'd have pissed them he was so surprised and scared
shitless and just plain undone.  Then he started to say "no" and
"no" and "please God, no" and after a while he yelled for somebody
to save him and he got real precise and asked Dick B. Long to save
him and he promised Dick B. Long that he'd be good and that he'd
respect Dick B. Long if he, Dick B. Long, that is, would just get
this monster is what he called Uncle Buddy or Uncle Buddy's
pecker, it wasn't exactly clear, off of him.

	That was when Jack motioned to Luther again and Luther tapped
Uncle Buddy on the shoulder and said to let him up, the Twink,
that is, and Uncle Buddy asked when he was going to get to fuck
him, the Twink, that is, and maybe later is what Luther said but
I'd like to be with you just now and Uncle Buddy smiled and got up
off the Twink and him and Luther kind of strolled away.  Which
meant that they missed what happened next which was that the Twink
who was shaking all over crawled to Dick B. Long and grabbed him
around the ankles and started to beg him, Dick B. Long, that is,
to forgive him for being so mean and unprofessional is what he
actually said.  Dick B. Long didn't say anything but he did reach
down and pat the Twink on his hair and then he pulled the
Twink up so he was on his feet, the Twink's feet, that is, and he
just hugged him until the Twink stopped shaking all over.  Which
is when Jack said "Cut," and Arnie put the camera down, and Jack
came over to me and gave me a kiss and said I was a genius and
had saved him from a life of public service announcements and if
there was ever anything he could do for me he wanted to do it.

	I said I was sure I'd think of something if he gave me the
time and he said he'd give me all the time in the world and I
think he was being truthful.  But right then he said he had to get
the footage of Dick B. Long and the Twink that he needed to put
this Project in the can and would I go find Luther and tell him to
get his ass back here and bring some of Dick B. Long's custom-made
condoms with him or he wouldn't be no Best Boy much longer.  I
found Luther pretty easy because of the noise he was making and I
gave him Jack's message but with my back turned because of Uncle
Buddy's modest streak.  And I waited till Uncle Buddy was the one
making noises and then I waited some more till he stopped and
Luther pulled up his jeans and left and I said to Uncle Buddy we
had to talk which we did.

	It turned out that we agreed about the elk.  It had done us
both a favor which was to send us walking to meet Jack and Luther
who were now our real close personal friends that we had never
either one of us had before and didn't want to let loose of.  What
we didn't agree about was what to do next.  I thought we ought to
hitchhike back home and say proper goodbyes to our mommas and our
dads and the rest of our kin and the hands on the place and the
heifers and even Cheryl from the homemakers' course and young
Jimmy Santangelo and then meet up with Jack and Luther back at the
X Bar L ranch resort or wherever they was going.  Uncle Buddy said
we could just write letters home and that he wasn't leaving Luther
right after he'd just found him, all thanks to that elk.  Didn't
he love his momma and my granddad is what I asked and he said he
did but not the same as he loved Luther who along with everything
else had said he would make him, Uncle Buddy, that is, famous if
he would just get over his modest streak.  So we argued some but
we was both too happy to get really pissed off and Uncle Buddy
said that after all he guessed I didn't have shit for brains and
that I would always be his favorite nephew whatever happened.

	It was that kind of a day right up to supper time and
afterwards.  When the footage was in the can, Luther came and got
us and took us to where Bernie was waiting to talk to Uncle Buddy.
This Project is wrapped up is what he, Bernie, that is, said, but
we have to think about the future and kiddo, is what he said to
Uncle Buddy, you are it, the future, that is.  I want to sign you
to a six-picture contract and make you famous is what Bernie said
but you'd better get an agent because you don't know shit from
shinola about the adult film industry.

	"I got one" was Uncle Buddy's answer and he pointed to Luther
"and from now on you talk to him.  We're a team."

	Bernie went a little pale but he gave Luther a real, warm
smile and took his elbow and walked him into one of the cabins and
they was there quite some time but I didn't hear no shouting nor
no glass breaking so I guess things went well.  Which is how they
went with the Twink and Dick B. Long too now that the
misunderstanding between them had been patched up and the Twink
had shown Dick B. Long the respect he deserved, Dick B. Long, that
is.  They got so close that after supper they sang together for
the rest of us and Dick B. Long did have a real pleasant baritone
and the Twink could carry a tune and Bernie said it might be a
first in the adult film industry to have the Star and the
Twink sing while they was fucking but he doubted he could get the
financing for it.

	Jack and I had a lot of time to ourselves and we used it
pretty good finding out important things about each other like
that he was a Pisces and I was a Leo and that we both liked "Law
and Order" and "Ally McBeal" but not Ricky Martin nor Ross Perot.
We walked a ways on the land of the X Bar L ranch resort and come
on a working barn with some horses in it and I gave Jack a riding
lesson that was shorter than it might have been and he said he'd
teach me how to surf and I said he'd have to teach me how to swim
first and he said he wanted to see me in a tight little bathing
suit and one thing led to another.

	I guess it's going to go on leading to things for quite some
time.  Being in love makes everything amazing is what Jack says.
And I agree.