Warning: the following story contains graphic descriptions of sex between consenting adult males. If you are underage or do not wish to read such materials, or if reading this sort of material is illegal in your jurisdiction, then read no further. If you have any feedback or encouragement, feel free to drop me a line at niftystoryteller@yahoo.com.
It was late afternoon by the time I got back to Dumont and pulled into the driveway at my uncle's house. Even though I owned it, or rather would own it, as soon as it cleared probate, I knew that it would always be my uncle's house to me. No matter how many nights I slept there, no matter how comfortable I was sitting in the parlor or working at the desk, it would never be truly mine. I was merely the caretaker of the past, for the future.
I did, on the other hand, have ownership of all the trouble that my presence had created for Beau. And even had I tried, there was no way that I was going to be able to avoid it. That much was clear from the note propped up against the front door. I quickly scanned the carefully printed lines.
"Mr. Jeff, Mr. Hamilton's been looking for you and for Beau, and he told me to tell him if I see any of you two. He seemed real mad. I hope there won't be no trouble. Sincerely yours, Toby Wilson"
I sighed. Apparently the time for Southern gentility was over. I just hoped that the days of duels were behind us, given my lack of experience with both pistols and swords. But first things first. Before I took a crash course at a shooting range, I needed to talk to Toby so that I could get a sense of where things stood. After a quick glance up and down the street, which was sound asleep in the hazy heat of the late afternoon, I trotted across the uneven pavement to Toby's house. The front porch creaked dangerously under my weight, and I identified a couple of floorboards that were not long for this world. No sound was audible when I pressed the doorbell, so I knocked loudly on the heavy door. A full minute passed before I heard footsteps clomping down a staircase, and then the front door swung open a crack, revealing the thin face of a woman who was in that uncertain territory between forty and fifty. She regarded me a little nervously.
"I don't think I know you, do I?" she asked hesitantly, slipping her fidgety right hand into the pocket of her apron.
"No ma'am. You must be Ada Mae Wilson, Toby's mom."
"That's who I am. Who are you?"
"My name is Jeff MacNeil. I'm Mr. Mayhew's nephew."
Her lined face brightened considerably. "Well I'll be. Toby told me you were still here takin' care of things. Your uncle was a good man, you know. He gave my boy lots of odd jobs to do, I know because we needed the money, and Toby always brought it all home to me, just like he does with his paycheck now. Toby's daddy was a good-for-nothin' who gambled and drank every paycheck he ever got away. I think the happiest day of my life was when he finally wrapped that Ford of his around that telephone pole. Course I didn't know how I was goin' to raise that boy all by myself, and I still don't. I just try to do my best. God willin', he'll turn out to be a fine man, and a good and decent husband."
I was getting more from her than I bargained for, and it wasn't clear where or when it would stop. As she caught her breath, I took advantage of the slight pause to gently interrupt her. "I'm glad that my uncle was able to help out both out. He was a good man, and your son seems to be a fine young man, too. But since you mention Toby, I'm wondering, do you know where he is? I need to talk to him about something."
She screwed up her face as she thought. "Well, let's see. He was working at the filling station today, and he told me that tonight he was going to the baseball game with a friend of his, and he might not be back until bedtime. I didn't even know he had any friends, but I guess that boys don't tell their mothers everything."
I couldn't really argue with that. Thanking her, I retreated back to my uncle's and set about scrounging up something to eat. Beau and I had agreed I would call him at eight o'clock, just to make sure that he had gotten up to New York safely, so I had time to kill until then. I decided that afterwards I would try to catch the last couple of innings of the game, and possibly intercept Toby.
Carrying a beer in one hand and a plate of odds and ends in the other, I padded down the hall from the kitchen to my uncle's study. Sitting down at the desk, I surveyed the room while I ate. Surely if I was able to catch a fleeting glimpse of the hazy past up at the Hamilton family cabin, there had to be a hidden window or two in this room. Slowly and methodically, I set about unlocking whatever secrets each drawer or cupboard might hold. I searched in vain for a couple of hours, until the tall clock in the hall began to strike the hour of eight. Reluctantly, I abandoned my search in order to keep my phone date.
Beau answered the phone on the second ring. It was strange to think of him sitting in my little New York apartment, eight hundred miles and a world away. He was in a place that I knew so well, but never with him in it. The picture in my mind was hard to reconcile with the reality.
"So you made it," I observed neutrally when he picked up the phone.
"Of course I did," he protested, his obvious excitement telegraphing clearly over the phone lines. "I can take care of myself better than you know."
"Calm down, calm down, I never doubted you. Were you and Brent able to find each other at LaGuardia?" I had been a little worried about relying on Brent, who was the most famously flaky member of my little circle of New York friends, but he was all I could come up with on short notice.
"Yeah, no problem. He's here now, and we're going to go grab some dinner as soon as we're done."
I jealously hoped that dinner was all Brent was going to grab. Beau and I talked for maybe five more minutes, with me feeling vaguely ridiculous and parent-like, admonishing him to be careful, and him telling me not to worry. Finally, though, we had to say goodbye. I told him that I would call him in a couple of days, and he wished me luck dealing with his grandfather.
"By the way, Jeff," he paused before continuing, "thanks for everything, and for coming up to the cabin. It was great."
"For me, too."
"I hope we'll be able to do it again."
"No doubt." I was not quite as certain as I tried to sound.
It was the top of the eighth inning by the time I made it out to the very serviceable semi-pro baseball stadium that stood among a group of non-descript warehouses and industrial parks on the edge of town. The Dumont Devils were clinging to a one run lead, though the Jasper Giants were threatening with men on first and third and only one out. Scanning the field, I saw my redheaded barber, Robbie Wilkinson, crouching at the ready behind the bag at first base. George, the counterman from the diner, looked in anxiously from right field. Toby, however, was nowhere in sight in the stands, which held a mixture of families, old-timers, and groups of prowling young men.
Realizing that I would be a whole lot happier after taking a leak, I decided to make a stop down at the men's room before grabbing a beer and watching the end of the game. Tucked away under the stands, the toilet was deserted. After choosing the trough over a stall, I unzipped and was minding my own urgent business when I heard the squeaky door swing open. I turned my head a little and glanced at the newcomer, who ambled over, pulled out his dick, and let loose a powerful stream of pee. He sighed in obvious relief, and I instinctively peeked over at his equipment. He had a very nice, fat cock hanging out of his khaki shorts.
"Man, I guess I've been drinking too much beer," he laughed as I caught his eye.
Not wanting to risk getting a hard-on and then getting beaten up, I dribbled out a few final drops, gave myself a quick shake, and tucked back in.
"And here I haven't even had my first one," I replied. "I'd better get busy."
"Plenty of cold ones still out there," he replied.
"No doubt. Take it easy."
"You too."
After stopping at the concession stand and getting one of those cold ones, I took an empty seat, one of the many, in the general admission stands. The Devils were just coming up to bat. The first two batters fanned quickly, which deflated the crowd a bit, since the home team was now trailing by a run. In this inning, it was going to be up to George. Just as he strode from the on-deck circle to the batter's box, I felt someone lean down from behind.
"I see you got that beer."
Turning around, I was face to face with the guy from the men's room. He had taken a seat to my right and back one row.
"Yeah, but I'm still not sure I'll catch up to you."
He laughed. "I guess I'd have to quit drinking for that to happen." He took a swig of his beer and reached out his hand. "David Perry's the name."
"Jeff MacNeil." We shook as I sized him up. My guess was that he was maybe thirty-five; his short dark hair was showing just a few errant strands of gray. His arms were tan and muscular, suggesting that he spent his days in some sort of outdoor physical work. I wondered whether he was as brown under his white polo shirt, which he filled nicely. What struck me most, though, were his very pale blue eyes, which had a penetrating, almost hypnotic quality.
"You're not from around here, are you," he stated more than asked the inevitable question.
As quickly as possible, and trying to keep my eye on George's at bat, I explained the circumstances that had brought me to Dumont. After George singled, and as we waited for Robbie to step into the box, David related his story. While he was a native, in his words he had "gotten the hell out" when he was eighteen, gone to college, and finally ended up in Atlanta, where he ran his own landscaping business.
"I come back maybe once a month, to see Mom and Dad, and check out the lay of the land. . . whoo hoo!" he hollered as Robbie hit one deep, easily clearing the fence in left field and giving the Devils the lead. "Man, he's strong."
As I was clapping and yelling along with everyone else, David hopped over the seats and slid in next to me. We shot the breeze for the rest of the game, which the Devils ended up winning by the one run margin Robbie's massive home run had made possible. My new acquaintance was very easy to talk to, very relaxed in a masculine sort of way, undeniably handsome and sexy. The icing on the cake was that he'd actually read my book, which came out after he'd asked me what I did for a living. Both muscles and a brain, in one complete package. If only he were gay, he'd be perfect.
Some of his statements were ambiguous enough that I would have unleashed my powers of interrogation, to try to ferret out exactly which team he batted for, but someone tapped my shoulder. Turning around, I came fact to face with Toby Wilson and Randy Brinker, both grinning toothily at me like partners in crime.
"Hey there, Mr. Jeff. How's it going?" Toby asked.
"Not too bad. I was actually hoping I'd run into you here, Toby. I wanted to ask you about your note."
"Yeah, I expected as much. I don't know much more to say, though. Mr. Hamilton was just real mad, and he wanted me to tell him when I saw you. Don't worry, though. I won't say nothin'."
"I'd appreciate that. I'm sure I'll see him soon enough."
David raised his eyebrows. "Is that Forrest Hamilton who's mad at you?"
I nodded, and David shook his head. "He's not such a good enemy to have, at least in this town."
"Yeah, I gathered as much," I replied. "He has some business he wants to transact with me, and he seems to be used to getting his way."
None of the locals could argue with that statement. Randy responded to our silence by changing the subject.
"So Jeff," he said slyly, "it bein' such a hot night, I was thinking maybe Toby and I would go skinnydipping up at your swimming hole. Is that OK with you?"
I shrugged my shoulders. "No problem here. Just take out your empties, if you're drinking beer."
"You mean that swimming hole out on your uncle's land? Out by Tutter's Creek?" David asked with a grin. "I haven't been out there for fifteen years. Man, that's a sweet spot. I'd almost like to join you boys."
Toby spoke up. "Ain't nobody stopping you. Come on, Mr. Jeff, you could come out too."
And that's how the four of us ended up at the swimming hole, naked in the pale moonlight. Even though I strongly suspected that Randy had ulterior motives for luring Toby out to this isolated spot and maneuvering him out of his clothes, the experience felt very natural and almost innocent. Kicking off our shoes, stripping off our shirts, stepping out of our shorts and underwear, plunging into the cool water, it was relaxing and exhilarating at the same time. I was already intimately familiar with Randy's muscular sexiness, from our previous visit to the swimming hole and from the night I shared with him and Beau. Toby's and David's bodies, on the other hand, were new to me. Toby was completely unself-conscious as he trotted to the water's edge, balls bouncing and short, fireplug dick swinging from side to side. Although his chest was hairless, a soft cloud of brown hair spread across his muscular belly, which was bisected by the contrasting line between his brown torso and the pale skin of his hips and butt.
David stood just a few feet away from me as he stripped, revealing a strong body that was no stranger to physical work. Looking at him, I wanted to touch the patch of hair between his pecs, the trail down from his sternum to his tight navel, the crease where his torso joined his strong legs, his heavy, pendant cock and balls. I wondered if his fingers were calloused, if they would feel rough on my skin, and what he was thinking as he watched me undress.
We slipped into the water, which was refreshingly cool in the sticky night air. Randy and Toby laughed and horsed around, grabbing and dunking each other. More than once they disappeared back behind the waterfall, each time for a little longer. Meanwhile, David and I floated near each other, watching our young companions and talking in low voices. His nearness to me was arousing, and my cock was comfortably, satisfyingly heavy. I wasn't sure whether he could make out my partial erection in the moonlight; if he could, it didn't seem to bother or intimidate him.
I cannot say how much time passed, but eventually Randy and Toby emerged from the grotto behind the waterfall and announced that they were done for the night. Randy exuded even more of a swagger than usual, and for once Toby looked like he was his own man. I couldn't say for certain what they had been up to, but I had my own distinct suspicions. Scrambling out of the water, dripping bodies glistening in the moonlight, muscles rippling with movement, they were quite a handsome sight.
I followed David without protest when he indicated that it was time for him to go as well. We used our shirts to dry off before slipping on our remaining clothes. In a jangled, humming haze, I drove him to his parents' house, took his business card from his one outstretched hand as the other rested on my bare knee, drove to my uncle's, climbed the stairs, and slipped naked between the sheets just as the tall clock struck a single, solitary chime.
The feeling of lying there, in that bed, seduced me. I was drunk on fresh air, intoxicated by the touch of cool crisp sheets sliding over my naked skin as I moved my limbs back and forth, to and fro. Each hair on my body, every nerve ending, every patch of skin was charged with the excitement of deferred release. I slipped my hand down to my groin and began to manipulate my foreskin back and forth over my hard, slick knob. As I stroked, I opened the way for the stream of images that floated up from deep inside that most primitive, instinctive part of my mind.
David is straddling my hips, clad only in his khaki shorts. I look down and clearly see the outline of his cock in the cotton fabric. As I reach down to trace its length and strum its tip, I glance through the waterfall and see Randy wrapping his arms around Toby's chest as he pumps deep into his ass. Toby's mouth has gone slack from the intense feeling of Randy's cock pushing deep inside of him, and I want to take Randy's balls into my mouth, to heat up his cum before it fills Toby up. But my mouth is sliding back and forth over the fabric-encased organ in front of me, and David is groaning as he feels my hot breath forced through the tight weave of good, clean cotton. And I am panting a little and I reach up and run my hands over his hard, completely male torso, and I realize I am on my hands and knees in front of him, worshipping the thick cock that is now out and proud, swaying from side to side in front of me. I take it deep in my mouth, between my lips and over my tongue, and at the same time I can feel Beau from behind, rubbing his cock up and down in my crack, which somehow is all hot and slippery and tingling, and every time his cockhead skitters over my hole, I shiver. It is just unbelievable when he slides in, and I just groove on that feeling of complete fucking penetration, that awesomely powerful feeling of allowing part of another person to become part of me. And now Toby is squatting over Randy, riding him, letting Randy just spear the hell out of him as his cock bounces up and down like there's no tomorrow, and now Toby is playing with Randy's tits, or is it the other way around, or maybe it's both at the same time. I realize that I'm on my back now, and David is on me, poking through, and it would be truly perfect if I could fuck him at the same time he is fucking me, and somehow my cock tells me that it's deep inside his ass, which is hot and smooth and open for fucking business, but it doesn't make sense because I can feel him up inside of me, scraping every square inch bare, taking me down to the studs, ready to flood me with cum. And Beau is straddling my face, dipping his balls into my open mouth as he jerks himself, and he is smiling as his cum rains down on me, and David is groaning as he buries his pulsing cock as far into my ass as he can reach, and Toby and Randy let out a holler and hold on for dear life as they rock their bodies together.
Finally breathing again, I sleepily rubbed sticky semen across my body, before rolling over and going into the most peaceful possible sleep. I'd worry about the sheets in the morning.