Mackey Tales: The Lost Tribes of The West – Simon A. Mackey 18
This story is about sex between boys. It's a total fantasy. You've made it to Nifty/gay/young-friends, so you'd know by now and I won't repeat the usual warning yadayadayada
What I do repeat however: support Nifty. This is a wonderful, free archive. A treasure box.
The stories make you feel good. A contribution makes you feel even better:
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This is my follow-up on the tales of the Mackey clan as created by Jonas Henley and extended by Charles Well, Nick e.a. Please have a look at the Introduction for reference.
Again, thanks for all your reactions. I'm glad so many like the story, always happy to receive comments and suggestions.
Enjoy
Nils
nilander101@gmail.com
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The gay boys
Simon hesitated. He knew Wesley was on the lookout for a boyfriend, as was Greg. But he was not a matchmaker. They needed to sort it out for themselves, so he just mumbles something incomprehensible and tried to divert the attention turning to the nearby game.
Wesley sighed and returned to the pinball machine, and joined Greg who was a still at the machine together with Jonathan. Wesley moved next to Greg, almost touching him, and absorbed by the game, Greg punched Wesley passionately on the arm when Jonathan won a bonus game.
"Ouch!" Wesley exaggerated with a teasing smile.
This gave Greg an excuse to pause and look directly at him. Wesley was a sight – all tall, dark and handsome, but that standard description didn't do him justice. He was all of those things, but he was also one of the most ruggedly good-looking boys he had ever seen. His jeans and sweater were snug enough to give a hint of the tight, lean body that they covered. Greg licked his lips and realized that Wesley's full attention was focused on him. It was almost as if he was waiting for him to say something.
He felt completely tongue-tied, and Wesley was too close for him to just walk away like he has no intention to speak to him.
"Ummm," he stalled. Jeez! What is wrong with me? His breath was coming fast and he could feel his face flushing. He had to do something. After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only a few seconds, he finally got the word out.
"Hi, sorry, I got carried away" Greg mumbled, crossing his arms awkwardly and intending to make a quick turn to concentrate on the new game Jonathan had started.
Wesley raised his eyebrows, but he merely thought this was cute.
Focused on the game, Greg now even leaned against Wesley, putting his hand on his shoulder, making Wesley blush and looking back at Simon and winked. Simon smiled and nodded as if to confirm. The fluttery feeling in his stomach increased.
"I don't know what it is, but it seems that these 12-year-olds are swarming the place today," Dustin began as soon as he joined Simon and Tom, "and they keep on asking questions about the Choosing as well. I sometimes don't even know these brats."
"I guess that someone started about the Choosing," Tom replied, "and now they're all curious. Just like we were, remember?"
"Yeah, Daniel just told me that his brother is prying as well, and obviously they are stirring each other up with daunting stories."
"Let's have some fun, come on," Dustin said grinning devilishly and he went to a couple of boys playing at the punch machine nearby, "look, that's Jordan, the little bragger, let's see how long he can keep his image up." Tom and Simon laughed, they knew Dustin was always in for teasing and ruffling some feathers. Never a dull moment with him.
"You'd better do some good training," Dustin said to the boy who barely got the bag moving.
"How so?" Jordan looked wonderingly at Dustin, not sure why this older boy came to him, commenting his efforts to slam the bag as far up as he could.
Well, you know, you need to be strong for the things that will come this summer."
"What things?"
"You're not going to the Choosing?"
"Yeah, I am, at least that's what my dad said I will." He looked around bewildered, trying to get some support from his friends who stood watching him punching the machine.
"Me too," Chad Weiberg joined the conversation, curious now the magic word `Choosing' was used.
"But why should I do some training?"
"Well, I am not allowed to tell you, but be sure, you need to work on your condition," Dustin said at a soft tone to sound mysterious and catch their full attention.
The boy's eyes were wide, and they looked concerned.
Dustin continued, whispering to raise the tension a little, "the Choosing is a very serious thing, and it's part of our Mackey history you're not allowed to know about until you went through a Choosing." He waited a moment and looked around to see the boys' reactions, and when he had their full attention, he went on, "I know because I went through one, but I can't tell you. It could be even a little dangerous if you aren't careful. But it's important to go through the Choosing if you want to become one of us." The boys stood there, listening mesmerized.
"And you," he added looking at Jordan, "you definitely want to be part of this to play an important role in the clan, like your great great or something granddad Shawn had, back in the 1870s, but you need to be prepared."
Jordan colored a little. He felt pride when Dustin explicitly mentioned that one of his ancestors had played an important role, but at the same time he felt insecure, not knowing what was to come. Be prepared? But how? Like the Boys Scouts `be prepared', or need they do some training?
Dustin grinned. He saw Jordan Mackey taking the bait and he knew the somewhat bratty boy who just joined his patrol in the Boy Scouts, would poke the fire among the boys even more. He doubted that Jordan's dad would tell him before the Choosing that Shawn Mackey's `important role' had been being a Community Bottom.
Seeing he'd reached his goal, Dustin turned and walked away, a broad smile on his face. Yess ! He did it again. Oh, how he loved to tease.
"I am not afraid of the Choosing," Jordan Mackey said, trying to impress the boys. Many boys looked up to him, he was the descendant of Alan Mackey's Indian son Jake, and he was from a family line who had the least non-Mackey mixed marriages. He still had some Native American features of which he was very proud. And he was also very proud to be able to show the most direct line to the founding father, right after Simon Alan and Richard Alan.
"Do you know what is gonna happen then?", Chad broke the silence after Dustin left.
Jordan hesitated. He knew nothing, of course, but he wanted to maintain his image as the fearless macho, so maybe he could make something up.
"Well, I do not know everything, and I am not allowed to talk about it, but they told me that we should be prepared for a heavy day, and they might test us with like an obstacle course and competitions."
"I've heard that they blindfold you," Jason Weiberg, Chad's first cousin, chimed in, adding to the sensation. The boys looked a bit confused. They knew Jason as a show off, never tired of exaggerating, but could he be right?
"Or maybe even make you eat dirty things," added Ben DeChantier, the always nice and polite boy, looking disgusted by his own suggestion.
Mitchell Mackey listened but stayed quiet. He had recently turned 12, and the day after his birthday, his dad had spoken with him about the Choosing, and although he didn't tell him everything, he was shocked.
He still remembered his older brother Curtis coming home from the 1972 Choosing almost 4 years ago, and he remembered the sudden change in their family life, without ever being told what was happening. His brother was sometimes very down, especially the first months after the Choosing, and he guessed that this Choosing had something to do with this all. The good thing was that Curtis had now lots of new friends visiting, whereas he previously was a bit of a loner, and all these boys were always in a good mood too, often making noise when playing in his bedroom. He'd hated it that he was never allowed to play along with them.
His dad had told him that he wasn't supposed to speak about this to him until one or two weeks before the Choosing, but he didn't want him to suffer like his brother had. He had to swear to tell nobody. So now he knew. It was not about a contest or an obstacle course, blindfolding. Maybe eating disgusting things: that is, if doing sex with your mouth is disgusting. His dad wouldn't tell exactly what was going to happen, but it had something to do with games boys play were sex would be involved, and if he thought he wasn't into that yet, he could postpone until he was 13, or maybe not attend at all, but that would mean they had to move away from the Mackey land.
A few months ago, he had discovered a few hairs at the base of his penis, and recently he had experienced his first orgasm, and from that moment on, everything that had to do with sex, even remotely, had his attention. So, a Choosing that had something to do with sex was more attractive than frightening.
Curtis had urged him not to postpone. He wouldn't explain why, but made it clear that 13-year-olds had a higher chance to suffer. He had asked Curtis over and over again about the Choosing and what happened to him, but he was very clear: he couldn't tell, he had to find out himself. But even the worst outcome was not something to be scared of, he said. No one has ever died because of a Choosing. And he had said, `look around, every Mackey boy older than 13 went through a Choosing, and you can see: still happy'. He had asked what this worst outcome would be, and Curtis just told him that it was about service for the Community, and that he had fulfilled his service, ending last Choosing.
He had his doubts. Curtis was just being nice, helping him not to be too scared, but he still remembered him crying. But then again, he is now 16, always happy, even flirting with girls. And apparently there was sex involved.
Although Mitchell didn't know much more about the Choosing than the other boys, he knew enough to stay away from the boisterous discussion and tell nothing about what he knew. He just listened to the increasingly exaggerated and unrealistic speculations.
"Maybe we should get some more information," Jordan suggested, "I mean, if they won't tell us, we should spy a little and get to know what's gonna happen."
Stan, Daniel's brother, pondered about his friend's suggestion. Stan looked like a shorter, skinnier version of his brother. He was a bit of a redhead with Huckleberry Finn freckles. He had bright blue eyes and was always smiling. He looked pensively at Jordan, and asked, "and how should we do that? If they want to keep it a secret, it won't be easy."
Jordan shrugged his shoulders, "Dunno yet, but we'll think about that," and with a typical 12-year-old's short attention span they moved on and swarmed towards the pool table.
Greg of course noticed that Wesley was at his side almost all afternoon. It didn't bother him, he liked him. Although he was a bit older than he was, nothing in Wesley indicated that he was too good for a boy more than a year younger than he was. He even sensed that Wesley appreciated his closeness. Wesley's smiles and bravura made him stand out from the other 15 and 16-year-olds. He was good looking, and had the attitude you'd expect from a womanizer. This boy seems to have it all. Greg kept looking for a fatal flaw that must be present in Wesley, but he sure didn't see one. With this level of perfection, girls, maybe even women, must be throwing themselves at him all the time. Greg thought that it didn't make sense for Wesley to be spending time with him, while seeming to enjoy himself. But obviously Wesley did, and after more than an hour of relaxed chattering, laughing, and playing the machines together, Greg almost had hoped himself to the conclusion that Wesley could be one of these gay boys Simon talked about. But how to find out? Wesley was a Mackey, and Simon had said that Mackey boys usually wouldn't take offence if someone made a remark with a sexual undertone.
But he hesitated. He was not naturally shy, but this was unchartered territory for him.
"I have to go," Wesley interrupted his thoughts, "we have a family evening. I'd rather stay here, but well, you know," and he rolled his eyes.
"Ehm, okay, thanks for the play. You're really good."
"So are you. Play again next time?" Wesley said, surprising himself with the warm, inviting tone he used.
"Love to," Greg mumbled, trying to fathom what Wesley actually wanted to say.
"See you then." Wesley regretted instantly this hard goodbye, but Greg smiled timidly, raised his hand, and turned to walk away.
See you then? His thoughts screamed at him. How clever.
He cleared his throat and surprised Greg by saying, "Wait."
Greg stopped and looked back, wondering.
"Will you be here tomorrow? We can play again, if you like."
"Ehm, well, okay, I guess."
"I'd love to play again, and if we get bored, we can hang out at my place. My parents are gone tomorrow, so we have the house to ourselves. If I can keep my little brother out of my hair, that is."
Greg smiled. Wow. This gorgeous boy want me to game with him, even better, invited me to his home.
"That's great. I'll be here just after lunch time."
Wesley proceeded to float on cloud nine all the way home, thinking about what a fantastic day this had turned out to be.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Greg said, grabbing Simon after he dragged him from the pool table where he was watching a game.
"Umm, you're welcome," he said, smiling awkwardly. "What did I do that was so great?"
"You made me meet Wesley, and say hi to him, and I did, and he is so handsome, but it's not just his looks. He's also kind and funny and down-to-earth," he gushed, breathless, not taking the time to let Simon react.
"I think I'm in love. He seems a great guy, and he was with me all the time. And he invited me to his house tomorrow. I don't know if he's into boys, but even as only a friend I like him."
"Wesley is nice," Simon admitted. "I know him, he's a great guy indeed. But did you tell him about you feelings already?"
"No not yet. We're meeting tomorrow here at the Arcade, I think I'll tell him then. And hopefully he has some feelings for me as well, but I haven't tested that. I was just blinded by the sight."
They both snickered, but then Simon turned serious. "I mean, you should just ask him. He's a Mackey, so he won't be offended, only likely be surprised to hear that from a non-Mackey boy."
Simon smiled inwardly, Wesley was gay and certainly could be a good match, but he couldn't tell Greg what he already knew.
"Well, it seems you have a date, then?"
"Technically, I've never been in the dating world, other than that fiasco of a date with a girl in 5th grade."
Greg had been a bit awkward with his puberty and the uncertainty that came with being a homo that he had barely glanced at girls, let alone boys. He cherished his image as the always relaxed boy who easily wins over many a boy and teacher with his endearing smile, while he was hiding his insecurity.
After his sexual escapades with Simon, he had experimented with masturbation in different positions, using lubricants, nipple stimulation, he fantasized of having sex with boys, Simon mostly, as he was his first and only real-life experience, He had been fantasizing about different locations to fuck; inside the house, outside, in the shower. Whatever he could think of.
"You still in there?" Simon was waving his hand in front of his face.
"Sorry, I guess I got caught up thinking about the past for a minute. I do have a question for you."
"Shoot," Simon encouraged him when he didn't immediately continue.
"Well, as you mentioned, I haven't dated a boy, let alone a Mackey. So, I wasn't sure what the protocol is. I mean, I was wondering, uhm..."
When Greg paused again, Simon gave him a curious look. "Spit it out."
"When should we do it?" Greg asked him, squeezing his eyes closed in embarrassment. He opened one eye to gauge his reaction. He wasn't laughing, so he continued. "I won't be expected to put out on the first date, will I?"
"Probably not," Simon reassured him. "You need to know if he's into boys in the first place. If so, and all goes well, a kiss with a little tongue would be appropriate. Maybe even a little outside the pants action. If all goes fantastic, and you want to bang his brains out, I doubt he would complain, though. Wesley is a Mackey, and you know what that could entail," he laughed.
He could handle kissing. It was good to know Wesley wouldn't be offended if sex came on as subject. He's a Mackey and must definitely had sex with other Mackey boys. He would not scare away from a non-Mackey.
Tomorrow he will make his move.
Sunday morning, way too late for breakfast, still too early for lunch, Simon joined his mom and dad at the table, followed by Matthew who'd also slept in. Simon and Mathew hadn't exchanged a word since the night at the cabin with Stuart and Scott. Both boys were struggling with the aftermath of the night, the mixed feelings of having a great night, enjoying the fun, but also the regrets of having done something they'd never thought of doing with each other.
Last night, when their parents returned and had asked how their stay at grandma's was, and how they had spent their time that night, it became obvious that there was something in the air. Richard and his wife Amy believed the boys when they'd said that they just had been staying up a bit too late – which wasn't beside the truth – but this morning when the excuse of having been up too long wasn't valid anymore, they had sensed that there was something between the two. They couldn't exactly point it out, but by the way the brothers were not communicating as they usually do, not ignoring or avoiding each other but merely not interacting even at the table, they felt something was not as it used to be. It was as if the boys were ashamed, maybe guilty even. Clearly they haven't had an argument or fight, that would be in the open instantly. Something different had happened, nothing really bad, but seriuos enough to make the boys feel out of place.
Richard sat quiet for a while, pondering, and he looked at Amy, and when the boys were staring at their plate, he raised his eyebrow questioningly. Amy looked at the boys and then back at Richard and held her head tilted and nodded a little as if to say `yes, I'm thinking what you are thinking.'
"You two are quiet today," Richard broke the awkward silence.
"Uhmm, well, it's still early, I'm just feeling a little sleepy," Matthew tried to avoid telling the truth, but he saw she wasn't buying this.
"Is there something wrong?" Amy asked, looking at the boys' blushing faces, "yesterday you were not really talkative, but that was because you stayed up too late, as you said. But it still seems you're not back to your normal selves this morning."
The boys mumbled a little and quickly took a bite from their bread roll to avoid giving a clear answer. They definitely didn't want to tell about their stay at the cabin, even less go into detail about smoking pot and drinking whiskey.
Simon and Matthew exchanged the briefest glance and looked down at their plate, but Amy had noticed, and she immediately knew there was something going on, something she and Richard had talked about, something she knew that sooner or later would happen. They had noticed that Matthew vigorously defended his brother, helped him where and when he could to fulfil his duties without harassment and she was proud of him, and she had told him so. But she had also talked with other moms who's boys were turned at the Choosing. She knew how their positions had changed their family, and that relations between brothers were affected by this, especially if there was an older brother who already went through a Choosing: without exception, they took up their rights.
She didn't like the idea, but when Simon had been chosen as Community Bottom last summer they had long wondered if Matthew had already taken his Mackey rights with Simon, she didn't expect that Matthew was the sole exception in Mackey land.
"You know that we'd rather have things in the open than keeping secrets," she said at a comforting tone, "It's okay to talk about it, dear, you know Mackey moms know a lot and talk a lot with each other," she continued, addressing Simon directly.
Simon blushed furiously. `Oh God, she knows,' he panicked, looking at Matthew who had the same fear in his eyes. 'But how could someone know about the drugs and the booze? ` he wondered feverishly, `did Scott's or Stuart's mom discovered something?' His stomach turned and he peered anxiously at his mom.
"Mom..., I euhm..., we uhm...," he squeezed out with a high pitched voice, not able to say something coherently. He looked in fear and trepidation at his dad.
Richard saw his boys looking pale and trembling, and although he'd hoped to never have this conversation with them, he knew he had to address this, to at least give the boys some comfort in this confusing situation.
"As your mom said, Si, it's okay to talk about it. It's not that we haven't seen this coming, so you don't need to be ashamed. And that applies to you too, Matt. Using a Community Bottom is your right, even if it's your brother."
The boys looked up in wonder.
`Wait, what, how did they know about...? ' Simon mused in bewilderment, but before he could say anything, Matthew confessed,
"It's all my fault, I should have been the wiser, and not let it happen. I'm so sorry," he said, almost sobbing. He lowered his head waiting for the reprimand he was about to receive for getting his brother into trouble, letting him smoke a joint or two, drink whiskey, and for himself taking part as well.
"No one is at fault, Matt," his mom eased, "we already expected that eventually you would have intercourse, or as you boys usually call it, fucked Simon. All we hope is that this will not change your good relation as brothers, and that you both can enjoy it."
Simon and Matthew gaped at each other. Thoughts flew wildly through their heads. `They knew they had fucked each other? But how? They do not care about it ? And nothing said about the booze and the drugs? And staying in the cabin all night instead of sleeping at home safely?'
Simon stared at his mom, wanting to say something, but not finding the right words.
"Your dad and I, we noticed yesterday and this morning that something must have happened between you two, and by the way you both look embarrassed and bit ashamed, we know what has happened. I want you to know, Si, that now that Matthew has taken up his Mackey rights and has been in your butt, I won't think less of you."
His mom so explicitly stating the obvious shocked him, and as in a reflex of self-defense he blurted out,
"But...,... I did it too !"
The baffled looks from Matthew and his dad made him instantly regret his outburst, but it was too late.
"You did what, dear?" Amy asked, not sure if Simon had meant to say that he was guilty as well by letting his brother fuck him, or had meant that his did the similar thing.
Simon hung his head, ashamed. He peeked sideways at his brother, and whispered, "I did it too. With Matthew."
Richards sat astounded. Did Simon just said that he'd fucked Matthew? His eldest son being fucked while he wasn't even a Bottom? How could that have happened? He now regretted they'd started this whole conversation. Having to accept that his youngest son had been turned had been a shock. To learn that his eldest son had let his brother fuck him threw him off.
"Well that's great dear," Amy replied relaxed at Simon's confession, adding, "that sweet of you, Matt, letting your brother do you as well."
Matthew smiled weakly at his mom, but he didn't miss the perplexed and slightly disappointed look form is dad. He quickly stuffed the remainder of is roll in his mouth and mumbled,
"Are we dismissed? Si and I planned to go to the Arcade."
"Sure hon, have fun. Don't be late for dinner."
***
Time seemed to slowly crawl by while Greg was waiting for the afternoon. When it finally arrived, his nerves kicked into high gear.
Since he still had over an hour before he would meet Wesley at the Arcade, he decided to take another shower. The hot shower must have been just what he needed because he was almost calm as he donned his denim pants and the light blue shirt that Greg had chosen for the occasion. He wore his favorite sneakers with neat lining on them, and they looked fantastic, they gave him just the extra boost of confidence that he needed as he biked to Ferguson's Arcade.
Wesley was already there, talking with Simon. Wesley looked like a Greek god, and Greg could not believe he was here to play games with him. His dark hair was slightly damp, as if he'd just gotten out of the shower. He was squeaky clean-and smelled like Irish Spring. His black shirt was just tight enough to show off flat abs and bulging biceps. And, speaking of bulges, his jeans were snug enough to give a tantalizing hint of his junk. Greg had to pry his eyes away.
"Hi," Greg waved at Simon and Wesley, "here I am, ready for a new defeat?" he challenged Wesley.
The boys laughed. Both noticed that Greg was beaming. He must like the game very much.
They walked over to their favorite pinball machine, put a coin in, and started to play.
While they played for a while, it was obvious that Greg and Wesley paid more attention to each other than to the game, and they realized that they were not that enthusiastic about the game as yesterday, as if both knew that there was something else in the air.
"It's not my day," Greg sighed after he lost yet another game, not really caring about his defeat, "maybe a drink?"
The three boys went to the diner and asked the waitress for cokes. Unlike the happy, carefree atmosphere yesterday, there was some tension, and Simon sensed that maybe he was the third wheel on the wagon, so when he saw Dave entering the diner he left the two to themselves.
"Yesterday's game was better, huh?" Wesley tried to start a conversation.
"Uhum," burped Greg through the straw in his coke.
"Maybe we try another game later, how about playing pool?"
"I haven't played pool very often, I think I suck at it. But okay, we can try. No competition though," Greg said, trying to evade a future inevitable loss beforehand.
Wesley smirked, and the two chatted for a while, with Wesley asking about the Ellis' origins, since they were not Mackey but living on the border of Mackey land. Greg was proud to tell about what he know of his ancestry, and Wesley elaborating about the long Mackey history here, the pre-Louisiana Purchase French trappers, and some innocent Mackey folklore. Wesley testing Greg's knowledge about the Mackey traditions, Greg carefully avoiding overly revealing answers.
Sipping from their soda's they chattered on, until Greg said, looking at the waitress, "isn't she gorgeous?"
"Nah, not really. At least, for me"
"How so? She is good looking, don't you think? Or is she too old?"
"No, she is a woman," Wesley blurted and suddenly coloring deep red, he regretted his honest answer instantly.
"Ah okay...,so,...You're not into women?" Greg couldn't believe his ears.
Blushing, Wesley timidly said, "that's right."
There was a deep sigh. Simultaneously from both boys. They looked at each other, Wesley with his eyebrows raised as in unbelieve, Greg with his typical persuasive grin.
"Me too," confessed Greg, now shyly looking at his feet.
"Did you know?" Wesley asked, concerned.
"What?"
"That I'm a homo," he said softly, looking around intently to see if anyone was eavesdropping.
"No. I just saw you several times here, and yesterday we had lots of fun."
"Yeah, it was fun. The games. You're a good player."
"I liked the games even more because of being with you all the time." Greg blushed even more than he already did.
Not knowing what to say, Wesley replied, "I like you."
"I like you too."
Silence. It was not an awkward silence, but there was some tension, with both boys not sure what the next move should be.
"You're not here for the games, are you?" Greg began.
With a shy smile, looking at his feet: "No, not really," Wesley confessed.
"Me neither, to be honest. I just came for you."
Furiously red, Wesley dived in. "I think I'm in love."
Silence
"With you."
Greg only squeaked, not able to speak, but his whole body said, `me too'.
"Let's get out of here, and find someplace where we can be together without others watching. How about a walk along the river?" Wesley suggested.
"I'd love to," Greg responded, letting out a deep sigh. He couldn't believe it. He'd said it. And Wesley too. The tension in his stomach turned into the mellow butterfly feeling of love.
As Wesley paid at the bar, Simon slid behind him and whispered in his ear. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
Wesley chuckled as he turned to him and asked with a cheeky grin, "What would that be? You do practically everything with every boy."
"There isn't much that would be off-limits with that boy, but be careful, he is young, and he's not a Mackey," he mumbled under his breath as he turned to leave Wesley.
"Have fun!" He yelled the words to both of them, as Wesley put a gentle hand at the small of Greg's back and guided him out of the diner.
It was a silent 5 minute ride on their bikes to the river bend here they dropped their bikes against an oak.
They walked along the pebble shore, next to each other, and after a few times of silently bumping against each other, their pinkies touched, and not much later, they walked hand-in-hand. The sun glimmered on the water. It was unseasonably warm, so even the breeze off the water wasn't too chilly. Greg was pleasantly dizzy with the new, overwhelming feeling of love and happier than he ever remembered being in his entire life.
They sat a while on a log, throwing pebbles, talking, holding hands.
Greg's head was spinning from all the impressions, being so close with the nice, beautiful older boy who loved him, being gay like him.
"Shall we go to my place?" Wesley suggested, more matter-of-factly than as a question, "I have a nice place to stay, nothing special though, my parents are out, and my brother is at a friend's."
They got up, picked up their bikes, and headed away from the river.
He was surprised when Wesley turned down a wooded lane that angled towards the forest where a nice house stood, almost hidden behind beautiful trees. Wesley seemed almost nervous as he parked his bike against a tree and guided Greg behind the house, to a clearing. "I told you it wasn't anything special."
Greg didn't know what he had expected, but he wasn't expecting such a beautiful house with an almost new garden house in the back yard.
"Oh," he gulped, "It's nice." It came out almost like a question, even though he hadn't meant for it to.
Once the surprise wore off, and he began to look around, he realized that this was a very nice spot. The lot was full of trees and had a beautiful view of a little pond not far away. It was an ideal place to roam.
He looked out over the plot and said, "Okay, this really is nice," with more conviction this time.
"The garden house is new. It's not so much for the garden as well as a nice place for guests when we have them over to stay. My dad bought it last year," he told Greg, "My brother and I can use it as private cabin if there are no guests, which we rarely have, by the way. We can change some things if we want to as well, so it is basically ours."
"How exciting to be able to have your own cabin and make it how you want."
"We've changed it only a little, no big plans yet." Wesley became quiet, and Greg wondered if he was going to elaborate. Wesley looked right at Greg's gorgeous eyes and said, "I'm still waiting for the right boy to come along, so we can decide on our dream house together."
Greg almost melted on the spot. What he wouldn't give to be Wesley's `Mr. Right.' Wesley was absolutely ideal, and he didn't feel worthy of being with him, but he decided to enjoy every moment he had with him, even if it meant he only was just his `Mr. Right Now.'
Greg blurted out, nodding at the garden house, "Want to take this guest inside?" He wondered where this newfound boldness was coming from.
"Oh, uh." Wesley ran his fingers through his hair.
"He doesn't want me. He's just being nice," Greg's inner voice panicked.
"I'm not exactly prepared."
At Greg's perplexed look, he elaborated, "I didn't think we'd be in this situation today."
Greg smiled his characteristic persuasive smile, holding his head a little tilted. Without wasting any more time, Greg lunged at him.
Wesley caught him, and he wrapped his arms around Greg's waist. There was a little hesitation, but when he looked at Greg's open, happy face, he kissed him, a peck on his forehead, on his cute button nose.
He was surprised to find how relaxed he felt in Greg's company. He was confident he would respect the roles that they had to play back at school, the age difference, the Mackey and the non-Mackey, regardless of their feelings for each other.
"Would you make love to me? I know you want to." The question did not surprise Wesley. He supposed he was waiting for it. But he was surprised, and calmed, by the way Greg put the question. He hadn't asked, "Would you fuck me?" or "Would you suck me off?" or "Could we do it?" He asked, "Would you make love to me?" It wasn't simple animal sensation he was after, but a relationship that mattered, a relationship of mutual respect and affection in which sex played a part, an important part, but only a part. It. was a question that deserved a serious answer. He tried to give it.
"Greg... Greg Ellis, I want to make love to you. I want to hold you in my arms. I want to smother you with kisses. I want to run my fingers through that beautiful head of hair. I want to feel your eyelashes brush against my cheek. I want to watch your body arch in pleasure as I lick every square inch of you. I want... yes, I want... " he said, pushing his lips on Greg's soft lips. He stroked through Greg's hair, sniffed in his neck to take in the fresh, lovely boy scent.
He threw the door of the cabin open and they toppled inside, laughing into each other's mouths.
They were on the floor, and Greg was straddling him, when Wesley tilted his head back, breaking their kiss.
"I don't want to ruin this with sex."
Then Wesley added gently, "You've had a lot to take in, and I don't want to take advantage of you. Are you sure you want to do this?"
Touched by Wesley's sweet thoughtfulness, Greg placed both hands on his cheeks and looked directly into those piercing clear eyes as he said, "I've never been more sure of anything in my whole life. I've never been in love with someone before until now, so hurry up!"
"Yes, Sir. Happy to oblige," he giggled in Greg's ear as he nuzzled his neck.
They were still in the doorway of the cabin with their legs hanging out. It should have been uncomfortable, and they could have been concerned that someone would see them, but their minds had been taken over by their hormones and their bodies had been taken over by pleasure. Whatever Wesley's mouth was doing to his lips made Greg ache for more, and his hand was slowly working its way up Wesley's leg, to the bulge that pressed obscenely against the zipper.
Greg ran both of his hands over Wesley. He had managed to dispose him of his shirt, but Wesley's jeans were still in the way. He got them loosened, and he lowered the waistband of Wesley's boxers so that his hard dick sprang out. Instantly, he wrapped his hands around it. His skin was velvety smooth, and he was rock hard and huge. He ran his fingers along his length and moaned with pleasure at the feel of him.
Wesley grabbed Greg's hands and pulled them to his lips for a kiss. "Greg, that feels amazing. A little too amazing, actually."
As he rolled them over, he informed him, "I am a gentleman, and gentlemen always let young ones go first."
In one agile move, Wesley raised and pulled Greg up.
"There is a better place for this."
Greg nodded and giggled as Wesley picked him up and carried him to the back of the cabin, to the bedroom. After he tossed him on the bed, he lowered his hands to undo Greg's shirt and quickly yanked it off him, and he kissed his way up Greg's body to lie beside him.
Greg cupped his hand over Wesley's wet erection poking out of his boxers and groaned. "You're so wet."
Wesley eased his sneakers from his feet as he worked to free Greg of his clothes. His eyes opened wide in surprise as he undid Greg's pants with one quick flick of his long, capable fingers and took them down in one smooth move, leaving the boy in his underwear. Greg might be younger then he was, but his very stiff dick pushing the fabric could easily be as big as his cock, if not bigger.
Wesley' fingers were playing on the nape of his neck now. That felt rather nice. The boy's fingers described little circles in the short hair on the back of Greg's neck. He felt Wesley' fingernails against his skin and shivered slightly.
"Not cold, are you?" Wesley asked.
The fingers baldly moved down and were now gently massaging the skin between his shoulder blades.
"I'm relaxing you. You're all tensed up," Wesley whispered. "do you want me to stop?"
Greg shook his head. Wesley's gentle, caring fingers traced the edges of his shoulder-blades, slid up on to his shoulders, touched his collar bone and moved over the top of his nipples to his arm pits.
"You've got a perfect rib structure." Wesley slid the palms of both hands up and down the boy's sides.
"Have I?"
"Beautiful skin too." Wesley was whispering now.
Greg's heart was beating so hard that he was sure Wesley could feel it. Far from relaxing him, the boy's gentle massage was making him more tense by the second. It felt nice, but was he really ready for what was to come?
"Gorgeous!" breathed Wesley. His thumbs traced the line of Greg's spine and the palms of his hands slid up and down the sides of the boy's heaving chest. He paused at the end of an upward stroke in Greg's armpits.
"Ah!" he whispered, as he felt the sparse axillary hair.
Wesley' hands slid down again until his fingers overlapped the waistband of the briefs. They stayed there. Any minute now, thought Greg, they would stray to his front. If that happened, he knew he wouldn't be able to stop. He flung himself over on to his front. As he did so, his stiff penis brushed against the palm of the boy's hand.
"Hmm!" whispered Wesley. There was no disappointment.
"What happens if your brother comes in?" asked Greg breathlessly.
"We'll hear him coming." Wesley began to knead the boy's buttocks through his briefs. It was a lovely feeling. Wesley seemed to know exactly where to put every finger.
"Oh yes!" whispered Wesley. "You really are gorgeous! Such a nice little bottom. Nice and firm and strong. Let's take these off, shall we?"
Greg said nothing. He buried his face in the pillow. He knew he was blushing. He could feel sweat forming on his forehead. He felt the briefs being slid down his legs, over his calves to his ankles. He kicked them off. It was the final act of surrender.
Something warm touched his thigh. Surely it couldn't be... No, it was a hand. It touched the hollow of his right knee and slid up his thigh onto to his behind. He didn't move. The kneading began again, first on his right buttock, then the left. It actually did feel very relaxing. The bed-springs groaned as Wesley moved nearer and both hands massaged Greg's rump. The boy lay quite still, feeling pleasantly submissive. Wesley stroked and kneaded his buttocks. Greg parted his legs slightly and reached beneath him to arrange his rigid prick so that it pointed forward. Wesley's powerful massaging caused it to rub against the sheet. He exhaled as deeply as he could. Only one hand was at work on him now. Starting from the small of his back, it moved down very slowly, into the cleft of his bottom until a fingertip, gentle as a feather, came to rest on his anus and stopped. He tensed again, clenching the cheeks of his bottom together to prevent it reaming into him. It didn't, but the muscular spasm pushed his penis forward. That felt nice.
He relaxed again. The finger didn't move. Was Wesley, perhaps, waiting for him to say something?
Surely not. He lay quiescent and waiting. The finger moved again, downwards to the sensitive skin between his balls and anus. He felt a fingernail scratching gently. That felt really good. In an attempt to imprison it there, he clenched his gluteal muscles again. His dick, iron hard and weeping the salty-sweet juice of pubertal stimulation, drove forward again. He relaxed and tightened again.
Wesley's finger continued its relentless gentle massage. From anus to scrotum it caressed, fondled and tickled. Greg began to breathe heavily. He knew he couldn't hold back much longer. His cock was throbbing, pressed against the bed sheet by his own weight and driven forward by the instinctive spasms of his bottom. He wanted to tell Wesley to stop – or did he?
His bottom began to rise and fall regularly now and the finger seemed to have a little more power behind it, almost as if it were forcing him forward and downwards. He bit the pillow and grasped it with both hands. He had never experienced anything like this before. Rivulets of perspiration ran down his forehead on to the pillow. His heart beat as if it would burst. It was going to happen. There was nothing he could do. All conscious thought had gone now. He was a machine, a writhing, heaving machine that would only stop when the finger was removed from the button.
But the finger stayed there, pressing now even more firmly than before, sometimes straying a little, but never relaxing.
Greg's heart pumped harder. His buttocks clamped hard together. His dick pressing into the sheets. He gave a convulsive shudder and successfully fought the urge to shoot his cum into the sheets. Wesley removed his finger and patted the boy's tensed rump. A warm kiss on his neck.
"For you," Wesley whispered in his ear.
Greg turned, his dick pointing up, ready to explode. He smiled at Wesley, and he tugged at his pants. Wesley lifted his hips and Greg ripped his pants and boxers in one move further down to his ankles, and Wesley kicked them off.
Greg goggled at the magnificent penis poking up from a dark bush and reached for it. The warm, moist head felt wonderful in his hand and he stroked it, until Wesley whimpered and put his hand on his to stop him from going too far.
Again, Wesley took over, caressing the heaving chest.
Greg panted as Wesley's fingers slid down the front of him. Wesley slowly spread his fingers apart and began making slow circles. Greg's legs fell wide open while with his other hand, Wesley played with his nipple until it was a hard nub, and he gently kissed him on the mouth and moved between the spread legs.
It was too many wonderful sensations at once. Greg felt like he was going to explode.
His hips began bucking of their own accord. He knew what was going to happen, but he didn't ever want this feeling to stop. His nerve endings were electrified and his breath was coming fast. He turned his head to the side, unable to think of anything but how good Wesley's hands on his dick felt, how sweet his kiss was. His breath caught, and pleasure surged through him. He threw his head back and gasped, mouth wide open as the first orgasm of the day was nearing.
Just then, Wesley pulled his hips up, and pushed his member between his legs, onward into the cleft until it came to a halt against the brown, virgin pucker.
"Ready?"
"Mmmm..."
With one gentle move, Wesley pushed and the tender knob, well lubricated with exuberant pre-cum, slowly opened him up.
A little sting, and for the first time in his life a dick entered him. A loving, caring dick.
Wesley retracted an inch and then plunged into him. Greg's moan of pleasure spurred him on, and his body continued thrashing wildly beneath him. Wesley reached a hand down between them to rub over Greg's pulsating cock. The friction of his finger, along with the feeling of Wesley's cock driving into him, sent Greg over the edge.
As Greg's sphincter pulsed around him, Wesley pumped faster and groaned as he came.
Wesley collapsed on top of him, still breathing hard. He was hot and heavy, and it felt wonderful. As the reality of what had just happened sank in, Greg began to laugh.
"Laughter at a time like this isn't great for my ego," Wesley muttered.
He placed his lips on Greg's forehead in a gentle kiss. "I'm going to recuperate a little, but feel free to wake me as soon as you're ready to raise the total orgasm count."
"Will do," Greg agreed, as he snuggled into Wesley's naked, perfect body. He couldn't believe that he had just had sex with this amazing boy. He smiled at his thoughts as he realized that he was no longer a virgin. He had fucked Simon and that had been great. But this, the sex, the kisses, the cuddling, the warm dick moving deep in his posterior, that felt fantastic, he pondered, while he slowly dozed off.
When he felt Greg breathing steady, Wesley quietly got up to find a glass to drink some water.
As he stood there, naked, breathing in the fresh air, he could not stop smiling. What a marvelous day and a wonderful boy. It was such a relief to know that his body was capable of giving that much pleasure.
Greg awoke from his slumber to the delectable smell of sizzling bacon. "Could he be any more perfect?" he wondered as he devoured the sight of Wesley in his briefs working in the small kitchen. He watched the muscles in his bare back flex as he turned the bacon. Clad only in perfect fitting briefs, he looked completely at ease in the kitchen.
"I hope you don't mind that I borrowed your shirt," Greg said when he got up and joined Wesley in the kitchen, indicating the long t-shirt that he was wearing.
"Looks way better on you than it ever did on me," he smiled. "Mind some food? We can head outside to eat. It's still a beautiful day."
He was right, the afternoon sun was glistening on the water in the small pond, and the air was fresh and clear. They sat down in the lawn chairs outside and ate in companionable silence. Greg kept finding himself gazing at Wesley. He was so handsome it almost hurt his eyes.
Wesley noticed, and when he took his last bite of bacon, he flashed a loving, mischievous smile at him.
This place was secluded, other than the main gate in front of the house. Greg did a quick scan and didn't see any sign of life, so he walked over and stood directly in front of Wesley's chair. Wesley sat forward to press his cheek against Greg's belly in a warm hug. His hands slid under the long t-shirt, and he quickly discovered that he hadn't bothered with underwear. "You're going to be the death of me, young man," he groaned, but he looked up at him with a huge smile.
"Quickly recuperated, right?" he asked as he climbed onto Wesley's chair, straddling him. He pulled the shirt over his head and enjoyed the look of pure desire that washed over Wesley as he gazed at him, fully nude, his dick as stiff as could be, in the soft light of the setting sun. He was normally one to hide his nakedness in the dark, but Wesley made him feel safe and sexy.
Greg felt Wesley's hands ran down his bare back, cupping his bottom. His head fell back as Wesley kissed his neck. He rose up on his knees and arched his back to allow Wesley's mouth full access to his breast. When he bit lightly on his nipple, pleasure shot through him and he let out a whimper of delight.
His hands, still cupping Greg's rear, began to move forward. Wesley slid his fingers along the warm cleft of the boy he front of him and he noticed some sticky wetness was still oozing out. He was panting with need. "I want you inside me. NOW."
He gently pushed Greg off his lap, raised from the chair, and worked his briefs down and smiled when he saw that Greg looked expectantly. Then he eased himself down onto the grass, pushing Greg down with him, on his back, and he let himself down onto the stiff cock with a groan of satisfaction.
He started riding Greg, circling his ass slowly on the pole as Greg's fingers worked their magic on him. He leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and let the pleasure wash over him.
He shifted the angle, took him deeper inside him, all the way to the base, and enjoyed the sensation of having the head of Greg's penis rub the most sensitive area deep inside him, while Greg used his fingers on Wesley's sensitive, swollen glans.
When Wesley lowered his head to take a nipple into his mouth, Greg's hips began pumping faster. He let out a cry of pleasure as his body shuddered around him, and Wesley felt the hot burst of release from Greg.
After a few seconds, Wesley exclaimed, "Now that's a phenomenal way for a first date!"
Still breathing hard, Wesley climbed off Greg to retrieve the tee shirt he had borrowed. Later he would probably be surprised and slightly embarrassed by how brazen he had been, but right now, he was just satisfied and happy.
"Last one in the shower is a rotten egg!" Greg goaded him before running into the cabin. He hadn't quite anticipated how small the garden house's shower would be, but there was no turning back now.
Wesley had thought that nothing could be sexier than a naked Greg, but he was wrong. Slick and glistening, soapy Greg rubbing his hands over his slender body in a tight shower was a sight to behold.
The stall was so small that their naked bodies were touching in all the right places.
When Greg felt Wesley's erection poking towards him, he was already wet and ready again. He used his hands to guide him in as Wesley backed him against the wall. He sighed with pleasure at the feeling of having the sweet, older boy against him as the warm water beat down on them.
Wesley looked down and gave him a long, deep, wet kiss. He wrapped his arms around Greg, groped his erection to stroke it, and began thrusting his body onto his for all he was worth. He pushed his cheek into Greg's shoulder as they both came loud and hard.
"Wowza!"
Greg stayed in the shower after Wesley got out to dry off. His butt felt slightly sore, but he was relaxed and limp as a noodle, and it was fabulous.
"Maybe we should get some clothes on," Wesley suggested, "my brother will be home any time now, and I don't want him to find me with my lover. Not yet, anyway."
Greg smiled happily. With my lover. Wow. Butterflies everywhere.
When Greg was ready to leave, Wesley kissed him. It wasn't just a peck. It was a real, toe-curling, perfect amount of tongue, a `feel-it-all-the-way-to-tummy' kiss.
"That was by far the best day of my life," Greg thought as he biked home.
For the first time, a bit of doubt about his time with Wesley began to creep its way in. What if it was just Mackey sex, and he wasn't anything special for him? What if it's the last time I see him? He thought about the fun they had and smiled. Even if we don't see each other again this way, this was so worth it.
***
"Mom?" Jordan asked halfway dinner, while he put his fork back on the table.
"What dear?" She looked at her son, waiting for his question. She noticed he'd grown these last few months, his face was now slowly losing its baby looks, a faint whisk of darker hair seemed to appear on his lips. But his voice was still unbroken, and his behavior was still the playful little boyish bravura.
"What was it with our great great granddad? You know, when the Mackey were settlers here, so many years ago?"
"Well, I don't know that much about him, only some stories people tell. Do you know, Todd?" she looked questioningly at her husband, who frowned a little and peeked sideways at his 14-year-old daughter Lisa. Jordan's question might as well be just curiosity about history and tall tales, but he knew that this time of the year, with just about two months to go to the Choosing, 12-year-old boys were asking a bit different questions than they used to. No one was supposed to spill any information about the Choosing, but everyone knew that the older boys loved to put a little pressure on the younger boys, teasing them with scary anecdotes. The dad's usually tell their boys only two or three weeks in advance that there will be a Choosing, disclosing only the bare minimum, just to see if their boys are ready for the Mackey tradition they will be embarking on. But among the boys there was a steadily increasing flow of rumors and tall tales.
Jordan's question must have some relation with these rumors the older boys were spreading. He of course knew the story of Shawn back in 1874. His dad had told him about that only after his Choosing in 1950, and after the initial shock, he was both embarrassed and proud. Embarrassed that his brave ancestor had been a Mackey Community Bottom, proud that he – as a descendant of a local Indian tribe – was so well accepted and respected in the community, as his offspring still are today. But what could he tell Jordan? No way could he say something about this Bottom history. That will come after the Choosing. And he had to be careful: his daughter was listening, and at 14, she might well know what the deeper secret could be. Girls were not involved in this Mackey Bottom tradition, but although it was no subject to talk about with girls, they'd soon learn about it, and gossip amongst themselves. But not now, not here at the dinner table.
"When our founding father Alan Mackey arrived here in 1832," he began, "he had good relations with the people in this area; the few Native Americans that remained here, and later with immigrants like the Weibergs and the Richters. You know that Alan had 4 sons, and one of them, Jake, had an Indian mother. What we know is that both Jake and his mother were well accepted in the small community, and Jake had played an important role in gaining lands towards the river and the Ozark Plateau." He waited a moment to see his son's reaction and when he saw his full attention, he went on,
"My granddad always had tall tales about him, how he had helped the Mackey settled, learn to live off the land here, use the fertility of the river shores and he was an excellent hunter. He was proud that Jake's mother came from the Osage who had lived here for centuries, and often told about their first contact with people from Europe, the French trappers, of which the DeChantier family lived here even before Alan and Charles Mackey settled here. So basically, our family line had played an essential role in the Mackey become what they are today."
"I didn't know about DeChantier's being here before the Mackey," Jordan remarked wonderingly, "that's Henri and Ben, right?"
"Yep, their dad is the owner of the local bar, which is there for decades."
"But what about Shawn? That was Jake's son, wasn't he?"
"I thought you asked about your great great granddad?"
"No, I'm not referring to Jake, but Jake's son Shawn," Jordan corrected him.
Todd knew instantly that this was murky water. He had tried to bluff himself out by referring to Jake, but clearly, Jordan was triggered to ask about Shawn. He now knew for sure that Jordan was set-up to prod in a specific part of the family history, like the older boys had done with him shortly before his Choosing in 1950, just to tease, adding tension to the already stressful sentiment around this secretive ritual. No way he's going to talk about Shawn's days as Community Bottom here at the dinner table, with his daughter listening, or even before Jordan had gone through the Choosing.
He scraped his throat, looking sideways at his wife, and began a rather general story about the old ways in this area, how young Shawn was known as a very sturdy man, a typical leader, just like his granddad Alan and his uncles.
Jordan had heard this story before, and he wondered why Dustin had so explicitly mentioned Shawn's contribution to the Mackey community. He couldn't get his finger on it, but by the uneasy shuffling, he sensed that his dad was a bit hesitant, as if he was leaving things out. There was something that needed to be investigated, he concluded.
***
Next episode:
Will Simon join the Mackey Boy Scouts for his first camp-out?
What seed did Dustin plant in the nervous boys?
To be continued...