Junkyard Dog Part 01

When I got the opportunity to travel for my work I took it as I Iove driving and at first it was a bit of an adventure but after two days on the road in a row the motels feel meaningless, the car like a cell, drive all day every day.  So I always decided to take the adventures offered to me, go forth boldly, I told myself.  But no matter how much courage you have, no matter how much drive, life has a funny way of slowing things down and putting things in perspective.

At least that’s what I tried to tell myself when my car’s engine seized up in the middle of farm country and I had to pull to the side of the road.  There was this feeling of anger and disappointment.  Had it been preventable?  Was it a mistake on my mechanic’s part or myself?  When did I take it to the mechanic last?  How many miles had it been?  Was I pushing the car too much?  I popped the hood, got out, walked in front, opened it and stood there staring at mechanical parts and wires.  I knew the concept of how a car worked, even did an oil change or two with my father, but this was real work, greasy and dirty work.  I was dressed for the office.

My first call was to work to tell them I broke down.  My second call was to the company representatives I was supposed to meet that day to offer insurance policies.  After that it was the long, annoying call to my car service agency who took some notes then transferred me to a towing agency.  I was surprised when I got a young man’s voice on the phone, a young man who had that ring of sincerity.  I told him where I had broken down and gave him a description of my car and myself.  Then I waited.  I tried to do work, tried to think of things I needed to do, but there was so little to contemplate because I knew if I just adjusted my schedule a little there would be little inconvenience.

The tow truck pulled in behind me and I looked up into the rear view mirror.  Great, I thought, the rough world of blue collar workers.  I prepped myself for a heavy set, beer guzzling, old, and white man to waddle up to my car, bark a few orders, then take over as he towed my car back.  I’d have to sit in the cab and pretend like I didn’t exist just so he wouldn’t suspect me of being the gay deviant I am.  So when I looked in the side mirror and saw none of those things I was surprised.  He was handsome and young, with a head full of hair that bounced easily then settled into place with barely a stray.  I looked up through the window to him.  He had a handsome face, chestnut colored eyes.  He motioned for me to lower the window so I did.

He asked me what had happened and I told him.  We went through a few tests together, nothing got it to start, so he told me to wait in the cab while he did what he needed to do to tow it.  I collected my bag and my suitcase and did just that.  The cab was clean and new, barely smelled of anything, maybe leather.  There’s hope yet, I told myself, maybe I’m not stuck in the backwoods just yet.  He moved back and forth from the cab to outside as needed and in five minutes later we were on the road again, this time pulling my car.  And there was this kind of silence between us.

At first I felt like an alien, so constructed in my suit and tie, so put together.  Please have mercy on this soft salesman, I thought, I’m in a strange land and I don’t know anybody.  My sins are my own, I promise I won’t even look at anyone sexually.  I won’t have sex with anyone.  It’ll be like I was never here.  I said all of those things to myself and yet, well, I kept looking at him.  Because he was beautiful.  At first it was little glances, just to check out his boots, his jumpsuit, but then it was the little things like the name tag: Spike, and the bracelets of leather cord and fine chain with these little charms.  He wore three necklaces, a cross, a pentagram, and a class ring.  He had tattoos on his hands, his forearms, and his neck.  He had blemished his skin and yet I wanted to know where else they were.  Did he have them on his muscled chest?  Did he have them on his thighs?  Maybe one of those whimsical joke ones on his ass.  I bit my lip and tried to think of something else and yet there was nothing else and before I could stop myself I just started talking.  I told him about myself, about my schedule and my business, I told him about my apartment in the city and how I like to have cookouts on my deck next to my hot tub.

That was the final straw.  I thought I saw he had gotten bored, or at least tired of pretending to be interested and he had this half annoyed look on his face so I just shut up.  Why did I have to say anything about the hot tub, the deck, the apartment?  I should have kept my mouth shut and my stomach started to twist as I sat there.  He was going to overcharge me on principle alone, but now that I had told him how about my life he knew, or could guess how much money I have and he’d really have me.  I’d have to pay him anything just to get out of there.  Just shut up, I told myself.

“How much farther is it?”  I kicked myself on the insides for opening my mouth.

“Am I boring you mister?”

“What, oh no, it’s just, I’m nervous about how this will effect work and when I get nervous I talk a lot and when I talk a lot I say the wrong thing.”

“It’s just up the road here,” he said.

“Great,” I said, now just- “Do they let you work on cars with all of those bracelets and necklaces?”

I had done it.  I had said the one thing I was thinking.  I was sunk.  But he let out a laugh, ruffled his hair, then looked to me.

“Is that why you’ve been staring at me?”

There it was.  I had been staring at him, that’s why I kept talking, because if I talked that meant eye contact, the social practice of building a relationship with another person.  It was how I did my business, to notice the way others interact and mirror back, even change up, that interaction to get what I wanted from them, sell insurance.  I had this whole theory about it, social function, introduction, handshake, small talk, a joke, eye contact, and if the person seemed okay with it, especially if the other person started first, touching each other, those little gestures of a hand on the shoulder and forearm.  I did none of those things.  I had been staring at him, consuming him with my eyes.

“Yes,” I said coyly.

“See something you like?”

His question hit me square in the chest.  I sputtered and ran through the options of answers but I couldn’t think of one fast enough.  What kind of answer did he want?

“I know it’s weird but I’m kind of a collector of things.  It’s not necessarily something I believe so much as people I’ve known.  But don’t worry, I don’t work on cars.  I mean I know how but I’m more of the retriever guy.  Do this, get that, fetch a car, I’m more of a people person.”

“Oh,” I replied.

And I felt like at that moment I was sitting next to my doppelganger, a person just like me but with a different life.  He had the tattoos I always wanted.  He had the ability to work on cars.  He was beautiful and yet when people saw him they knew who and what he was.  When they saw me they saw a tool.  I had carefully tailored my image and yet there was nothing unique about me, my construction was to look like someone else.  I wanted to tell him right then but I saw the sign for garage and fell silent.  For once I had nothing to say as he pulled into the lot, drove to the office and told me to wait inside.  I got out with my bags and carried them in to find the craggily old man I had expected to get my car.  He looked me over, then sat and picked up some papers.

“So uhm,” I said.

“What’s that?”

“No I was just, I mean, I um, well, I think it’s Spike there, he just dropped me off and well, I came in here and I don’t know if I’m supposed to talk with you or wait for him, and well, I have to get back on the road.  You see I’m an insurance-“

“You’ll have to wait for Spike,” he said, “I’m going on a smoke break.”

He got up and walked out of the room.  “And fuck you very much,” I mumbled to myself as I looked around at the walls and noted the photographs of a sponsored baseball team as well as pictures of family, cutouts of cartoons from newspapers, and one trophy fish missing an eye.  I was about to laugh to myself when Spike came in through the door with a clipboard in his hand.  He told me that they’d have to look it over first and run some tests, then they’d give me the options.

“But the thing is, and I’m truly sorry for this, but we have a bunch of work that needs to be done today and well, you’ll probably have to stay the night.”

“What?”

“At a motel, is there one you prefer?”

“I don’t know the motels in the area, but something mid-level like a Cloud Nine or something, I don’t have a lot of money but I’m not sleeping with the fleas.”

“No, I understand,” he said.

“Now your car service company said something about a loaner car, but we ain’t got much like that.  I mean we have a few cars we loan to people but well, it’s just for people to use locally.  We don’t want to chase anybody down.”

“No, I can understand that,” I replied.

“Okay, well, unless you plan on driving around I guess I can take you to the hotel,” he said.  “Just let me get changed into some street clothes.”

“Sure,” I replied.

The rest of the journey was in silence, air conditioned silence in a two year old Cadillac.  I no longer looked at him.  I just sat there contemplating where I had gone wrong and I started to think about the mini-bar.  I could wreck a mini-bar right about then.  I’d start with the clears then move to the browns and- it was happening again.  No work, nothing to do, so my answer was to drink.  I shook off the notion and before I could stop myself I was talking again.

“Where do people go around here?  Are there any bars?”

“I didn’t think you’d be the bar type, well not local bars.”

“I know.  I should be drinking a martini and laughing about the stock market but-“

“No, I just meant, well, you seem like a stay at home guy,” he said.

“No, well, actually, I’m a stay at work kind of guy.  Because when I go home, when I’m alone, well, I drink, and things have been going really well for me recently.  I don’t want to fall down that rabbit hole.  So maybe if I go out-“

“Do you have any other clothes?”

I looked over myself.  My shoes wouldn’t survive a hay covered floor like I imagined the bars there had.  My tie would get too many looks.  And when I rolled my eyes when I asked about the wine and the bartender told me they have two kinds, red and white, well that would get me beat up.

“Nothing I can wear,” I said.

“Well, I’ll loan you some,” he said, “you’re about my size.”

“Actually, could we go somewhere and I could buy some?”

“No problem,” he replied.

He pulled into one of those chain dollar stores and we went inside together.  He showed me where the jeans were then we walked around the store and I got other things like junk food and even a paperback novel and playing cards.  We were walking around when he stopped in the pets section and went over to the bowls.  He squatted down and picked one up.

“Do you need a new bowl for your dog?” I asked.

“No, I’m thinking of adopting a new one,” he said, “pick out some chew toys you think a puppy might like.  I’ll pay for them.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” I said, “company card.”

“Great,” he replied, “get a couple then.”

“This one looks cute,” I said taking one, a stuffed giraffe, from the metal rod, “and this one, and I like this one.”

“Nice,” he replied before taking his cell phone from his pocket.  He sent a quick text message then returned his attention to me and crossed his arms in playful thought.  “Do you know what you need if we’re going to the bar tonight?”

“We?”

“You need some boots, not expensive ones, and since I know how you feel about wearing other people’s clothes we should get some here.”

“Okay,” I said, and we walked to the boots section where he picked out a pair for me.  It felt weird following him around because I kept thinking about what other people thought.  These were the type of people I had left behind.  These were the people I had grown up with.  They didn’t like me.  And I didn’t like them.  But being with Spike somehow made it okay.  He had this charm about him that I thought would ease all contact between me and them.

I paid for everything and after I loaded the trunk he got a response text message from someone.  He laughed a little and looked to me as I got in the passenger seat.  “You won’t believe it,” he said, “I’ve got to pick up a dog crate for someone.  We’ll have to put it in the back seat.”

“Right now?”

“Do you mind?”

“No,” I said, “it’s fine.”

And yet I felt this nervousness as it felt like he was dragging me along through this town, farther and deeper into it than I would like, that I felt comfortable seeing.  He drove to the opposite side of town, down a dirt road and into the forest a little to a cabin.  The title of every horror movie about cabins and featuring cabins in the title flashed through my brain, and yet he got out and seemed so casual.  I looked around from the cage with the baying hound to the window where a candle burned.  This was just like where I grew up.  The front door opened and a young man stepped out, shirtless and barefoot, the jeans barely clung to his bare hips, no underwear.  His hair hadn’t been cut in years so it almost reached his shoulders in this shaggy half combed disorder.  He laughed and held out his arms for a hug as he walked to Spike.  They hugged, I heard flesh slap flesh for a moment before they stepped to me and I was introduced.  His name was Luke and they had been best friends for a long time, “since before our peckers had hair,” as Luke put it.  He led us to where the cage was, said he had just cleaned it and dried it, which it looked like he had, then I watched as they carried it to the car.  I just stood there with my hands in my pockets.  They had looked at each other, shrugged, then they did it.  And I just stood there.  

When I got back into the car I felt a bit of a dolt, you know one of those funny sounds The Three Stooges make when they are hit on their heads, well I felt like that as they loaded it in the backseat.  I could tell there was effort involved.  But when he got back into the car he didn’t say anything just drove on and took me to my motel.  When we pulled in front of the management office he pulled out his cell phone and looked at a message and laughed before telling me to go rent a room and he’d get my stuff.  He started to type as I left him. 

The hotel was the kind of place that had once been the five star local, the type of place that existed for large families to stay for the weekend while visiting the lake.  It was the type of place where people partied in the 70s with rails of coke and lots of polaroid pictures of naked antics.  And now the old timers worked hard to keep it running as best they could, the slow gathering of dirt and cracks were overlooked by their poor sight and sense of nostalgia.  The desk attendant was an old, bald man who chewed on an unlit cigar and talked out of the corner of his mouth.  He rented me a room easy enough but nothing was run through right away, they took an impression.  How the hell did they get away with this?  I might not see the charges for days, I stopped myself short of business advice, handed the guy my card, took the key, went outside and moved the car. 

The room was on the second floor, there was a wooden staircase on both sides of the front of the hotel, my room was on the second floor near the middle.  I was grateful that Spike helped me carry everything up and inside.  Just over the threshold I stopped to look around, the whole room was larger than my first apartment.  There was a lounge area, a dining area with bar, a small kitchen, a bathroom, and two bedroom doors.  The bedrooms themselves were actually separate from the hotel room.  Who would have thought some backwoods place would have spacious accommodations.  In the city a place like this would be a couple thousand dollars, especially with all of the space, but here, yeah, it was a little worn around the corners but it was still nice to have.

Spike set everything on the bed then sat and scratched behind his ear.  I wasn’t sure if he was going to stay or go as I thought he had done everything I needed and yet I liked having him there so I didn’t mind if he stayed.  He laughed and sent another message before looking up to me.

“Go get a shower,” he said, “we’re going out.”

“We’ll be irresistible,” I said.

“Every woman will want to dance with us and every guy will be jealous of us,” he said.

I went into the bathroom and closed the door, stripped, then got into the shower.  The warm water relaxed my muscles, the sound of the spray made me forget the sounds of the world.  There was no work, there were no clients, this was how life was supposed to be lived, well part of life.  I cleaned myself thoroughly, and by the time I stepped out and picked up a towel I felt like a tube, as if everything could pass through me.

When I stepped out of the bathroom I was surprised to see that not only was Spike still sitting there but that he had turned on many of the lights, got himself a drink, and turned on the television.  There were signs of life and it was a nice feeling even if he was a bit messy.  I cleaned up after him then went to my suitcase and opened it.  For a moment I remembered that I thought I had set the zipper towards the wall and away from the chair but this way I had to stand so that, so that Spike could see me in my towel.  I smirked at the thought and laughed it off as wishful thinking.

So I kept my butt towards him and just like I had done all of my life I went through the skilled art of keeping my towel wrapped around my waist while pulling on a pair of underwear.  It’s a tricky thing to do, especially so you don’t trip over yourself.  I did it with ease and even kept the towel wrapped around my waist as I pulled out the new pair of jeans.  That was trickier and I actually did almost fall over, the towel landed on the ground and I hopped around a little.  It was a funny sight.  You might have seen it online.  Anyway, I got them up and finished dressing, even down to the cowboy boots and flannel shirt, looked to Spike who sat doing something on his phone.

“Are we going?” I asked.

“In a minute,” he said.

I waited that minute and then we left the room.  We walked for a few feet and were descending to the landing between floors when he spoke up.  I was surprised and a little embarrassed by the topic.

“So you still wear tighty whities?  I would have thought it was silk boxers.”

“Not for me,” I replied.

“I’m not sure if I could handle being all held like that, but I guess when you’ve got a, you know, that it helps keep the little fella from banging around.”

“Little?”

“I saw what I saw.  That towel wasn’t doing much for you.”

“Hey, I’m a grower not a shower,” I said.

When we got to the car I stopped but he kept walking.  I was partially insulted by making the joke in public but I wasn’t offended so I stood confused.  He got about five feet away and turned to me then motioned for me to follow and started to walk away again.  I ran a little to catch up and tried to walk in stride with him.

“Aren’t we taking the car?”

“Naw, this is the only bar in town, right next to the hotel so if people get too drunk they can just screw there.  That’s how my mom and dad met.  I was conceived in that very room.”

I saw what he was doing, making fun of the way I seemed to react to everyone in town.  And yet there was this kind of humor to it because I imagined it was hard for him too.  Was I the person who escaped?  Did he want to be me at some time in this life or like me?  Was I his failed dream?  Just go with the flow, I told myself.  And I walked along with him.  We arrived at this large country bar and grill that had two sides, one for fighting and one for fucking, no really, it was one for dining and one for drinking.  We ended up at the bar.  

One shot of bourbon and one beer each just to start the night.  The bar was crowded with people at the pool table, at the bar, at half of the tables.  All of them were eating so I knew it had to be the food.  A jukebox in the corner played loud Honky Tonk music, and I started to notice most of the people were in their fifties and sixties, dressed in their finest duds and reliving their youth.    

“So who you looking to take back to your room tonight?” he asked.

“What?” I asked, then it kind of caught up to me, “everyone here is over forty.”

“Aren’t you over forty?” he asked.

“Watch it, you know what I mean, they’re in their fifties… sixties?”

“It’s senior citizen night,” he said.

“Senior citizen night at a country bar, now I’ve seen everything,” I replied.

“Senior citizen night at the Tiger Fish Lake Country Club,” he corrected.

“Country club?” I asked but he didn’t respond and paused for a moment.  It was another of my ill assumptions, one of my judgements.

“Who are you looking for dudes or ladies?”

Dudes or ladies, was he trying to be subtle and ask my sexuality?  It was cute and I really wanted to say something.  I really wanted to tell him dudes and yet that fear of him suddenly turning on me, I pushed the thoughts from my mind and decided to have a little fun with him, test him.

“All these old people around I might just end up taking you back to my room and shagging the hell out of you,” I said.

“Get enough beers in me and we might just do that,” he replied. "But not with your little dick. I'd need a man hung like a horse, then I might consider it."

My eyes bulged at the thought of him taking dick. There was no way. Was there? Straight or gay we decided to drink and the more we drank and the more of his friends started dropping by and soon I was paying for a few guys.  But when the women got involved it got to be more fun.  I wasn’t just this closet homosexual.  I was one of the guys, drinking, and laughing.  That’s when I was asked to dance by one of the women.  I refused at first but eventually she dragged me and the rest of them up there.  So we did it.  We drank and laughed and told dirty jokes.

Line dancing was a lot of fun, and I made small talk with a few of the cowboys and their wives, even passed out my business card when they asked.  It was a party and we left there with this bond between us, this kind of rubber band feeling that we didn’t want to be too far away from each other, even when we took turns pissing in the back alley, it was casual.  We made it back to the room and moved to the couch.    We sat next to each other, both half drunk.  We looked into each other’s eyes and that’s when I felt his hand at my neck.  I knew his arm was back there but I didn’t expect his hand to gently touch my neck.  He ran his finger up the back of my head and felt the way it bristled.  Down was smooth but up, I could feel it and he could feel it, the way the hairs moved between his fingers it tickled both of us.  And I knew.  I knew he was going to kiss me.  I wanted it so bad.  He started to move and I closed my eyes.

The hand on the back of my neck, he pulled me into his lips and he kissed me.  I tried to kiss back but eventually I gave myself over to him and that’s when I felt his right hand on my crotch.  He undid my belt and unbuttoned my jeans and was about to reach into my underwear when I stopped him.

“I’m not-“

“Don’t worry about it, I saw your little pecker.  It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, unless you want to be embarrassed.  Do you boy?”

“Please,” I begged.

He moved over me for a moment, nose to nose, then he grabbed hold of my feet and took off my boots, my jeans, ripped open my flannel shirt and pulled it from my arms until I was in an undershirt and briefs.  He laughed at me and I looked up at him.

“Your skin is green,” he said, “don’t you know you’re supposed to wash flannel boy?  I’m going to have to give you a spanking and then a bath before we can have too much fun.”

A spanking and a bath?  But I didn’t have time to think because he took hold of my ear and pulled me from the couch, dragged me to the a full length closet mirror.  He stood behind me and made me look into it.  I saw us, our two bodies intertwined and he looked over my shoulder at the both of us as he grabbed my little pecker and my balls.  He bit my shoulder with a kiss.

“What are you?” he asked.

“I’m a boy,” I said.

“What kind of boy?”

“I’m a naughty boy,” I said.

“And what do naughty boys get?”

His hands went to my ass and he grabbed both cheeks.  I jumped a little and so did my dick.  It was poking out from my body and it looked tiny in the reflection, barely noticeable, until he took hold of it, separated the shaft from my balls and tucked it along my left thigh.  With his other hand he spanked me on my left cheek and bit my neck again.

“What are you boy and what do you deserve?”

“I’m a naughty boy and I deserve to be spanked,” I said.

He was quick after that confession to pull me by the hand to the bed where he placed a boot on the frame and held his knee in the air.  Actually over the knee, I thought, but it was too  late because he put me over it with ease and soon I was looking down at the floor, cut in half with just his thigh holding me in the air.  I let my hands fall down past my head as all of the blood rushed to it.  Just the feeling against my stomach hurt but when he brought down that first hand it caught me by surprise.  There was this sharp pain but it didn’t linger and for a moment I almost laughed it off until he spanked me the second time, then the third time, and he lit into me with a flurry of spanks.

There I was over this younger man’s knee in the air, my feet and hands unable to touch the ground, dressed only in briefs, blood rushed to my head, hands, and butt cheeks.  That pain began to build and throb, little nerves went out through me and back to my butt.  It was humiliating and embarrassing, but it was just what I had wanted.  And for a moment I felt relief, but that was only to pulled my underwear up between my cheeks so that he could get at the reddening flesh.  He spanked all over each cheek, from the top of the mound to the creases between my thighs.

The pain had this kind of ebb and flow.  It would concentrate in one area for a moment, my mind would be thinking of just that one spot and then it would move and go somewhere else, usually back to my butt.  He paused again, then set me down.  There were tears in my eyes and I hoped that the little game was over, at least for a little while, but he just rolled up his sleeves and secured them before hauling me back over his knee.  This time my little undies were dragged down over my thighs and hung for a moment at my ankles until I kicked them off because the pain, the feeling of humiliation.  I began to kick and scream as he beat my ass, not just cry, I sobbed and heaved over his knee.  No dignity, no feeling of self, he stood me back up and looked me in the eye.

“That’s how we do it around here city boy,” he said.

“I’m not a city boy,” I muttered.

He took hold of my dick, “You may have been born in the woods but you’re a city boy.  I saw it right away.  You’re soft, ain’t nothing wrong with that, but you’re not weak.  Oh no, soft things don’t break as easily as hard things do.” 

“You don’t think less of me?”

He wiped the tears from my cheeks, then pointed to the corner.  I looked for my briefs to see where they had gone and he was quick to slap me on the ass and tell me to focus on my punishment.  He walked me to the corner with a hand on my shoulder and placed me there.  Two walls meet, it’s a corner, and there I was buck naked with this country boy, this younger man, who had just spanked me and brought me to tears.  I shuttered and cried some more and when that feeling seemed to be gone, when I felt like it was over and he might just move on to something else, that’s when he took me by the ear and pulled me to the bed and across his lap.  

My hard dick on his thigh, one leg on either side, my cheeks parted as my dick was trapped there in view and easy access.  He lit me up again, a burst of spanking and I cried.  With every fiber of my being I cried and cried until the pain somehow became tolerable and I just stopped, that’s when he told me to get down on the floor and take off his boots.  I slid to the floor and took off each boot.

“Smell ‘em,” he said.

I did.  I smelled his feet.  And when he told me to take his socks off I did that too.  I licked them, I massaged them.  It didn’t matter when they were cleaned last.  I did it.  I licked his feet.  He took off his jeans and I went back at them.  Slowly he pulled me up his body to his crotch where his hard dick stood firm and through the little hole in his boxers.  It was twice the size of mine.  I started to move for it but he pushed me away.  I tried again.  He pushed me away.  We looked each other in the eyes and I knew this was his little game for me.

“Does puppy want a bone?” he asked.

“Yes sir,” I said.

He slapped me playfully across the face.

“That’s not how puppy’s speak.  Only bad puppies pretend to be boys.  You want my bone.  Are you a bad puppy and I do I need to spank you or are you going to speak for me?”

I barked.  It was a little yap, but I did it, then I did it again.  I barked and climbed with him farther onto the bed where he pulled me to his dick.  My lips to his balls but I didn’t open them, no he wanted obedience.  Not until he said lick, then I did it.  I licked, I sucked, I fondled.  He started to play with my hole, a dry finger at first, but he licked it and slowly each time shoved a little more into me until I knew how close he was and that soon he’d want the real thing.  He pulled me aside and to the mattress before he got behind me and to my surprise ate out my ass.  He didn’t just lick.  He didn’t just spit.  He ate.  His tongue penetrated me.  I wanted it so bad I reached back and pulled my cheeks apart.  He opened me so by the time he got up to his knees and stuck his dick against me I was ready for him.  He pushed inside to the balls, left it there for a moment as he kissed me over the shoulder.  He pulled it out, pulled away, but then he was on me again and in me.

My little dick rubbed between my thighs, slapped against my belly as he held onto me and he fucked me into the bed face first.  His hands pushed down on the small of my back and my knees went wide.  He thrust into me with power and determination, his hard dick was like steel, his hands felt like claws as he scratched up my back.  He had me.  My parted cherry red ass, I reached to feel his balls, feel his thighs.  He stuck it in deep.  I felt it.  That spasm as he filled my insides.  He took hold of my head and my shoulder and rolled me onto my back with his dick still inside me.  I looked up into his eyes and he put his hands down on either side of my head.  He leaned down slowly.  His lips brushed mine.

“What are you?”

Boy?  Puppy?  Did he want a quick thank you sir or a bark?  There was one good, honest answer that came from my heart.

“I’m yours,” I replied.

Kid Robot

"Well, okay then, uhm," Reed said as he did the two step with a fellow college student, Theo, trying to step around each other. They finally worked their way around each other. Reed moved to his seat at the cafeteria table amongst his friends. Theo looked back awkwardly as if trying to balance himself between a step forward and a set back.

"Sorry about that, but you make a great dance partner," Reed joked.

Theo emitted this robotic, beep sound and paused for another moment as if he were recording something.

"Don't worry about it, the drinks are on me. Did you want to sit down?"

Reed looked him in the eyes. And he appreciated what he saw, slim but with a thin layer of baby fat, delicate features. Theo stepped to sit down but then looked around at the others, his friends. And for a moment he remembered what it was like to be in the first grade and it was enough to go up and just say you like somebody and can we be friends, and he had done that, and they all laughed about him after. The function between his memory and his need broke, he turned on his feet and scurried away.

"That kid is so weird," Jane said, "he's in my feminism studies class and he doesn't get it. He keeps writing these papers comparing feminism to sci-fi books. I mean yeah they're women but it's weird that it's all he talks about. He probably has a collection of toys in his room."

"That's not very p.c."

"Oh and when did you become so politically correct?"

"He could have some kind of disorder."

"He's weird, like a robot weird."

"Besides it's not pc it's just good manners."

And that was what he believed as he sat quietly to finish his meal, just good manners. He just wished he had done something differently. He wished he had been more welcoming. He wanted that other young man to be sitting across from him. He had that ability all of his life to rope in friends, especially when he was young and it was enough to just say hello.

So when he spotted the same boy going to the center of campus as he left the cafeteria he decided to follow him to the small theater classroom. He noted the paper outside advertising a showing of some art house movie. He stepped inside, looked over the empty seats and spotted the boy amongst the seven other students sporadically placed in the audience. He swallowed his pride and walked to where the boy sat, leaned to him and extended his hand.

"I'm Reed," he said.

"I'm Theo."

The other boy offered a soft hand with a limp wrist and he did his best to shake it.  Then he sat down next to him.

"I'm sorry about what happened at the cafeteria. You could have sat down. I wanted you to sit down."

"I know, it's just everyone else, there was no elbow room."

Reed laughed a little because the boy could have sat between two fat men on an airplane and they'd only notice if he got up to use the bathroom.  But he shrugged it off quickly as he didn't want to seem to be laughing at him.

"Well, here I'll give you plenty of elbow room," he said.

"Thanks," Theo replied, and they touched their forearms together along the common arm rest.

After the movie Theo felt like he had to hold on to this new, potential friend and so he started to ask him about the movie and eventually Theo explained all of it by the time they got back to Theo's dorm room. Reed motioned as if he was about to leave.

"I don't have a roommate if you want to come inside," Theo said, "I have some pop." His voice crackled with fear and excitement.

"Okay," Reed said.

Theo unlocked his door and Reed followed him inside. He was surprised to see everything was neat and put away, everything was clean. He had a small refrigerator and a microwave along with a pot for boiling water. But there was only the desk chair and the bed to sit.

"Do you want the bed or the chair?"

"It doesn't matter to me."

"It doesn't matter to me neither," Theo said.

"Well, there will be more elbow room on the chair so," Reed replied.

And so they sat.  Theo looked to Reed and Reed looked to Theo.  They felt this connection, this interest in each other, and yet as they sat there a few feet apart it felt as if they had dragged the whole world into that bedroom.  What would parents think?  What would friends think?  Should they just try to be friends or give in to something and take a risk?

"Do you want something from the mini-fridge?  I have bottled water."

"I like you," Reed said.

And there it was again that beep sound.  Reed stopped himself from any reaction even if he found it cute there would be no way to gauge how Theo would react to his amusement, so he tried to keep focus.  And yet, he looked around the room and he felt a hundred eyes of action figures on him, even as Theo got a bottle of water from the fridge.

"I like you too," Theo finally replied.

"Have you ever, I mean do you want to, you know, do something," Reed asked.

"Only if you do," Theo said.

"I do," Reed said, "so put down that bottle of water and come over here and sit next to me on the bed."

Theo moved to the bed and sat next to his new acquaintance.  He could smell Reed's cologne and Reed could smell his shampoo.  They slowly leaned into each other, their faces slowly came together like a space ship docking at a space station.  Reed put one hand on Theo's side who responded by taking hold of Reed's shoulder.  They grabbed at each other, kissed at each other, lips pressed against each other, tongues touched.  For a moment Reed thought he would have to be the aggressive one until he felt Theo push back and force himself into his mouth.  But when Reed grabbed at Theo's butt he was stopped and pushed away a little.

"There's something you have to know," Theo said as they nibbled on each other's lips, "If this is going to get physical, well, I'm a virgin."

"Okay," Reed replied.

"Really?"

"Yeah, whatever, I'm trying to keep the vibe going.  I'm really into you, don't worry about it."

"Okay," Theo said before he pushed himself against the other young man until he was on top of him.  He kissed down his neck, pulled open his jeans, and grabbed hold of Reed's dick.  He felt it through his boxers.  Reed pulled him farther onto the bed, rolled him onto his back, then made his way down, pulled off Theo's jeans and there it was, but he didn't think about it much as he kissed his way back up and maneuvered himself over him, a loose strand of his bangs hung down over his eyes.

"There's something else," Theo said.

"What is that?"

"I'm strictly a top," he said, "it's uncomfortable for me to take it."

"I don't normally, but I guess, I mean, have you done it before, do you know how to, and with the, are you sure about this?"

"The condoms and lubricant are in my bedside stand, strip down on get on the bed, all fours," Theo said.

"Okay," Reed replied.

The new feeling of authority, of Theo taking control gave Reed an extra tingle in his dick so he stood and stripped off his clothes as the other man moved to the bedside table and opened the drawer.  Reed got onto the bed, completely naked, and looked over his shoulder to see Theo take off his shirt and drop his briefs.  And he saw the biggest dick he'd ever seen in his life right there.

"I don't know if I can take that," he said before he had really thought about it.

"I'll be gentle," Theo replied.

And he moved to where he was on all fours, took hold of Reed's dick and pulled it back between his thighs before moving in to kiss this stranger's ass, right between the cheeks and right at the hole, a little kiss before he licked at it with his tongue.  Slowly he stroked himself as he continued to rim that hole until it opened for him a little, and then he began to play at it with his fingers, coaxing from it that soft pink inside.  He kissed and licked and rubbed as Reed played with his own dick, and when Theo saw that he sucked on those balls until spit ran down the shaft, then he licked down after that spit and took his dick into his mouth, all of it went right down his throat and he gagged himself for a moment before he stopped and pulled himself away, strands of spit fell to the sheets.

"I'm gonna fuck you so deep and good," Theo said, "you'll be begging me for more."

And Reed was surprised by a slap to his ass before the other young man went back in with his tongue and he stroked both cocks as he pushed his tongue into him, felt that muscle surrender.  He got onto the bed, let his dick slide along between Reed's cheeks, then he stuck it to him, pressed against that quivering hole.  Reed pressed his face into the bed, stroked himself, and he felt the pressure of it as if he were being pricked by a needle, bigger than a needle, but it was this part of his body he normally had thought of being complete and virgin, and it was being opened.  He could feel Theo and he could feel himself, little by little he gained ground and he felt this pain build inside of him, but it was dull and subsided easily, until the pain was too much and he looked back over his shoulder.

"That's it, it's inside of you, take all for me," Theo said.

Reed felt it.  He could feel the other man's hairy nuts against his own, he could feel the hole, his hole, as if it were one band of flesh, a ring, and he could also feel the dick inside of him pushing around and poking things.  He was about to give up when he felt it, he felt that little tingle of his prostate and it was like he wet himself and felt so happy at the same time.  It was a scary feeling so he even checked the bed and his thighs but there was no urine, just that feeling of nerves branched out through his body somehow connected to that part inside of him.

"Do you like that?"

"Fuck me," Reed replied, "fuck me some more."

And he grabbed hold of him by the waist and began to the process of working himself in and out of Reed until his anus gave and his dick could slide back and forth with ease, that's when he turned it up a notch again, slow and deliberate strokes as if he were sawing wood.  Reed grabbed hold of his own dick, felt how firm it was and he began to stroke himself slowly, the sensitive head sometimes rubbed against his thighs as he toyed with it.  He felt the warmth of himself.  He felt the warmth of Theo.  And he wanted it.  He felt that bite of pain and that release of pleasure as if a pot lid had been taken off.  So he pushed back a little and that's when he felt Theo's hand at his mouth, his fingers brushed over his sensitive lips before pushing inside.  Reed felt those salty fingers on his tongue and his lips, stretched and so warm.  He felt like the pieces of his body had been separated and yet connected by long wires.  He moaned and groaned, covered in sweat, his hole open and his mind willing.  He wanted it all.  He wanted to feel everything.  And that's when it happened.  He felt his own dick give out of him, pulled like a cord on a parachute, his muscles began to spasm and he fell onto the bed.  Theo pulled out, pulled off the condom, and stroked himself to completion on Reed's back.

There he lay face down, his body twisted uncomfortably, and he felt it, his hole, his lips, the cum cooling on his back.  He started to roll over and Theo stopped him.

"We have to clean up first.  We've already made too much of a mess."

"No problem," Reed said before he pushed himself up to his feet, "actually, I should be going."

"No please, would you stick around for a while and cuddle?  I have my own shower."

They showered together, nothing serious, just two young men who liked to kiss and grope each other playfully, then they made their way to the bed.  Reed waited for Theo to pull the covers aside and they both go into it.  He pulled the covers back over both of them, flat on their backs, they stared up at the ceiling.

"You never asked me why I wear it."

"It's none of my business," Reed answered.

"Do you want to do this again?"

"Probably," Reed said.

"Well, I need to know if I should put you on my friend list, my booty call list, or not at all.  I don't have time for games."

Reed looked to his new friend, then he looked around at the toys and he thought about his friend complaining about comparing everything to sci-fi stories and for a moment he was about to say they should just be friends when he felt Theo snuggle against him, their two naked bodies interlocked, and he wanted it.

"How about boyfriend?  Do you have that as a list?"

"You will be my first," Theo answered.

By the Moonlight

Personal Note: I'm not sure if this falls under dubious consent or the darker rape fantasy as the sodomy happens against the character's otherwise stated consent, and that is where I take my own creative liberties with the story.

When you go to college out of state and your first return home is Christmas break, well, that can be a bit distressing, at least it was for me, because I had changed in those few months.  Not changed so much as was freed, that’s the word.  I felt free.  I didn’t have to worry about the other kids at school and my parents always being over my shoulder.  It was just me.  When I slept, what I ate, where I went, and who I saw, they were all my choices.  I could walk around campus in the middle of the night, order pizza at 3 A.M., whatever I wanted to do as long as I had the funds, as long as I had the nerve.

Yeah, there were many things still to do.  I hadn’t conquered anything, but coming home, that just felt weird.  It felt as if I were traveling at a different speed and when I got home everything was going a little slower.  People around town didn’t walk with the same kind of enthusiasm.  And my parents, it was weird.  It was like they put up with it for a few days and slowly but surely they ground me back down to be able to exist in their little world, my little hometown.  I longed to get back to college and regretted it a little, not coming back so much as having to spend all my time, all the stupid, boring time I had to spend there around the house, around the town.

And it was a boring town.  The movie theater, the mall, good coffee, anything, was all thirty miles away.  It was like they existed in a parallel universe.  At first I had thought I’d get out everyday, adventure around and see something, try to look at my town, the towns around it, as some alien world and I would be the researcher, try to gather up experiences and sights to store them for some kind of story.  I tried for a few days, but then my parents complained about the second car always being gone, then they complained about how many miles I was putting on it.  A trip everyday became a trip every other day, then none at all for a two days and I just sat around the house in my sweatpants and did nothing, didn’t shower, nothing.

Sometime around noon as I sat on the couch for the fifth day with my father in his recliner eating pretzels and drinking beer it felt like that was the entirety of my existence.  I knew when shows were scheduled, had plans to binge watch ‘80s horror movies, and it just felt like there was nothing else in existence when my father cleared his throat and spoke up.

“I’m surprised you’re not out with your friends,” he said.

“Naw, I haven’t really talked to them.  They’re all doing stuff with their families.”

It was true.  We had mostly stayed in contact via social media and all of them were busy being these idols, these statues, these fine items to be shown off to grandparents, aunts and uncles.  They all smiled for the camera in their selfies but I knew the pain behind the eyes.  I was fortunate in that my family, my parents weren’t anything like that.  We always had this thing of sticking together, not really liking our extended family.  My uncle and his son would be over for Christmas Eve and we all had to rally at my grandmother’s for Christmas day, but we didn’t go to family functions.  I guess we were the black sheep.  I wasn’t sure which would be more miserable and I was about to check my phone for the tenth time when my mother left the room and my father made a show of reaching into his pocket and pulling out his wallet.  He opened it and I saw several bills inside.  He was loaded for the holidays, probably had to stuff a few cards and get some gifts.

“Take this, here, take this,” he whispered.

I checked make sure my mother was busy in the kitchen and retrieved the bill, a hundred bucks, just like that.  I looked at him suspiciously.

“Don’t tell your mother how much I gave you.  I told her I was going to give you some but not how much, so that’s our little secret.  Go get a shower, put on some fresh clothes, and get the hell out of the house, the keys are hanging by the door for my car.  Don’t put a scratch on it and don’t drink and drive.”

“Thanks dad,” I said.

“Maybe get yourself laid,” he replied.

That’s fathers, he had this weird way of saying the completely wrong thing, some kind of joke, and it was like I didn’t want to see my father that way.  But it barely felt like anything.  I had a hundred bucks to spend on myself, just for me, and there was no expectation to keep it.  I showered, put on new clothes, and grabbed the keys by the door.  In twenty minutes I as out of the house and chipper as I walked to my fathers 1998 Cadillac.  He had kept it in mint condition, bitched about the gas, complained about the cost for parts, but he always parked in the garage in the winter time, kept up with all its needs.  His relationship to the car was like his relationship to my mother.

Anyway, as soon as I got in there was the first bite, a nearly empty tank of gas.  I sighed and knew it would take a chunk of my money just to get out of town and depending on how far I drive it would cost more to get back.  I groaned and pulled out of the driveway trying to keep myself upbeat by tapping on the steering wheel as I listened to the radio.  Within a few streets I found myself aimlessly wondering as I looked for a gas station with the cheapest price.  That was my father’s thing too, drive just to save money.  Well, I was running low and worried about making it to any gas station when I saw one that I had been to rarely over the years.  It was closer to the national forest than anything else, kind of the fill up spot for people with ATVs and dirt bikes.  It was a dirty, grungy place, and I didn’t like the idea of pulling in there but then my fear of running out of gas overwhelmed me so I did.  I pulled in beside the pump, looked down at the hundred dollar bill and bit my lip as I contemplated just how far I could stretch the money when there was a tap on the glass.  It was a mechanic with a rag in his hand, young, about my age, holy, it was Tim.  I rolled down the window and shut off the car and he smiled back at me.

Tim had been my best friend all through elementary and middle school.  We used to do everything together, spend weekends at each other’s house, ride our bikes up and down every street, but then we had a falling out between junior high and high school.  Not a falling out so much as a disconnect.  My parents got me busy with volunteer work and working at the golf course as a caddy for a bit of extra cash, and Tim, he just kind of went his own way.  I heard that he ended up in juvie hall for a month or so because he pulled a knife on someone.  Then he was always fighting with his parents and teachers.  He went the vo-tech route.  I went the college prep route.  I’d hear stories about him but I actually kind of ignored them as if I didn’t want to know, didn’t want to face the fact that I wanted to help him but was powerless to do so because my family, my friends, wouldn’t like it.  Eventually I heard he just stopped coming his senior year.

“It’s been a long time,” he said.

“No kidding, it’s been years,” I replied, “I heard you dropped out.”

“Kicked,” he said.

“Too bad, well, but you’re working here,” I said.

“Yeah, it’s a job.  So what are you up to today?”

“Not much, just cruising around I guess.  My father gave me a hundred bucks to spend on myself.  I’m trying to figure out how far it’ll stretch.”

“Heard that,” Tim said as he leaned against the car.  “So uh, not going out and meeting up with your friends.  I know you were popular in high school.”

“Not popular, just social,” I said, “but naw, they’re all busy with family and stuff.  We don’t really do that sort of thing.  I’ve been trying to adventure around but kind of stopped doing it.  The hundred bucks may not get me far but it got me off the couch.”

He laughed at my joke and I laughed a little too.  He looked me over, looked the car over.  I looked him over, motorcycle boots, worn jeans that clung to the angles of his body, an old mechanic’s shirt with no sleeves, bigger muscles than I remembered, bigger muscles than I expected.  He leaned a little more and his shirt ran up giving me a peak of his jeans that hung loose to reveal the band of his underwear, briefs.  He still wore briefs just like me.  And just as I was about to imagine him in just those briefs he spoke up.

“Do you get high?”

“What?”

I had heard him but just the mention of getting high, of breaking the law, well it made me perk up and I looked around.  Was this some kind of setup?  Was he undercover, a snitch?  I looked him the eyes and tried to determine just how real the offer was and then if I wanted to do it.  I wanted to do it.  But I was also afraid.  Cops, my parents, and just the thought of breaking the law made me feel like I would go to jail for the rest of my life.

“Do you, get high?”

“No, but uh, I might be interested.”

“Cool, I’ll fill ‘er up and come back in two hours.  I know a guy.”

And like that it was done.  He filled up my tank, I paid him, and drove away with my change.  I drove around town again, stopped at the convenience store, browsed through the toy section of the local dollar store, and debated if I should go back.  This fear in me, this fear of getting caught, made me walk on my heels.  But this feeling of doing it, this rush of danger, made me walk with my shoulders high.  I was a mess, an awkward, gangly, weird kid who just kept repeating, I can’t believe I found Tim again after all these years and we’re going to get high.  He’s going to get weed.

And that was kind of the best part of Tim, the unpredictability.  He was a person of single intent, like me a hedonist in the best sense of the word, but also something else, willing to do the things people aren’t supposed to do, willing to break the rules and break the law.  That was Tim.  That was why I loved him an why I feared him.  I debated it from every angle, even considered talking him out of it, just driving around together and talking about old times, but in the end I gave in to it.  I gave into going back there and picking him up, getting weed, and maybe even getting high.

Two hours later I picked him up and he gave me directions out of town as the sun began to set.  Soon I was driving in the dark and one side road turned into a dirt road and for a long time I wondered if he even knew where he was taking us until we reached an old farmstead and he told me to pull in front of the house.  I looked around and saw there were no signs of life.  No lights in the house, no dogs, no domestic animals of any kind.  He walked to the porch and turned back to me.

“Is this your parents’ house?” I asked.  “Are you renting it?”

“Something like that,” he said.

And he walked up the steps and entered the house without even using a key.  The place was mostly empty, a few pieces of furniture, but the bookshelves were empty, no TV.  I followed behind him and for a moment I thought we were just trespassing on some random farm when he led me down some steps into an unfinished basement.  We walked to the farthest corner to a sink basin large enough to hold a person sitting in it, well a small person, but still.  He turned on the water and stripped off his shirt, then began to wash himself.

At first I was okay with it, just his chest, his stomach, but then he began to really wash his armpits, soap them up and clean them off.  When he was done he threw the towels into the corner where I saw a pile of them.  He must just throw them away, well into the corner, when he’s done with them, I figured.

“Do you want a drink?  It’s cold water, from the well.  They never had city water out here so it still works.”

“Do you know if it’s safe?”

“Who cares?  It hasn’t killed me yet,” he said.

He motioned for me to drink with my hands so I did. Water ended up spilling down the front of my shirt and we laughed about it, but I did it.  Then he motioned for me to pay attention before he stepped to the door to the well and he took a key from his pocket and unlocked this little padlock, set it aside, pulled a board back, and opened it.

There it was, light.  There in the corner of the well room he had three marijuana plants, the walls were covered in tin foil, and two fluorescent lights powered by a line that ran up some steps and out into the yard somewhere.

“Where are you getting the power from?”

“Solar,” he said, “my weed is organic and solar grown, almost completely natural.”

“When did you start caring about that shit?”

“I don’t.  I just like bragging,” he said.

“So like, you grow your own?”

“Yep,” he said.  “Want a hit?”

*****

A full moon, a few clouds, we looked out over the field and back to the barn about a hundred yards away.  It was quiet out there, no cars going up and down the road, just us.  A little bit of weed, a few cans of beer, I was buzzing pretty good as we sat out on that old bail of hay at the end of the field.

“Why’d you bring me out here?”

“Well, at first because I hadn’t seen you in years and with you off at college, well, we probably won’t stay friends.  You’ll get a job or whatever, but I’ll be stuck here in this little town so we might as well have some good memories.”

“Cool,” I replied.

“But now that we’re out here, I keep thinking about something,” he said.

I could tell he wanted to say something to me.  Was is this?  What did he want from me?  Did he want the same things I wanted?

“I keep thinking about one of the last times we hung out and I dared you to streak from your porch to mine.  It was a legitimate dare but you chickened out.”

“I didn’t chicken out.  I would have been arrested and that’s one of the rules of truth or dare, you can’t get the person arrested, no permanent scars, no tears.”

“Aw, it would have been fine, one minute, you’d ran back and forth all of the time between our houses,” he said, “well, anyway, would you do it tonight?”

“What?”

“Finish that dare,” he said.

“Here?”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re not kids anymore, besides isn’t there a statute of limitations to dares?”

“Chicken,” he mocked, then began to make chicken sounds.

“Okay, I’ll do it,” I said.

“Really?  Let’s see it.”

Immediately I had second thoughts, there was this feeling in my stomach.  I was half drunk, half stoned, and he was right there.  He looked to me, cocked his eye at me.  Slowly I pushed up a little from the bail of hay, stood there beside him, and began to undress.  He took my shirt, my undershirt, my shoes, my socks, and my jeans.  I stood there in my briefs and he looked me over.  I took off my underwear, cupped my dick and balls in my hands, and turned away.  I walked half the distance and I suddenly realized that with that full moon I was completely visible out there.  I turned and walked back but didn’t see him sitting on the bail of hay.  He took my clothes, I thought.  He’s stranded me out here naked, but then I saw his head stick up from behind the bail of hay.  He stepped out and in front of me, completely naked, his dick hung loose, balls like a sack of jewels.  He stood before me unashamed, completely casual.  And there was only one thing on my mind.

“Where’s my clothes?” I asked.

“Safe, with mine,” he said.

“What’s going on?”

“I figured you’d be too chicken shit so I thought I’d do it with you.”

He walked to me, stepped beside me and I turned to look at that barn now farther away than I had initially thought.  He started to walk like it was a stroll down the road.  At first I noticed the way his dick bounced from side to side, then the farther away he got the way his ass muscles shifted with each step.  He got some distance between us and I looked around for my clothes.  I knew he had hid them where I couldn’t find them so I started to walk after him, faster to catch up, then I slowed and walked beside him still cradling my nuts and my dick.

The blades of grass felt strange under my feet.  I was completely aware of what we looked like, but the worst part was that I was the scared one.  I still covered myself.  So I took my hands away, tried to walk normal.  My balls bounced against my thighs, my dick swayed from side to side because I had a little bit of a chub going on that I couldn’t control.  We made it halfway, past where I had gotten to, and this wind blew across the field.  It felt as if it had wrapped around my entire body like a string or a scarf, then it was pulled across every part of me and gone.  My dick stuck out from my body and I stopped and looked down to it, covered it as best I could with it pressed up against my thigh.  He stopped, turned to me, and laughed.  It wasn’t a cruel laugh.  It was a kind laugh, as if there was some joke I was missing out on and he wanted to share.

“There’s no one around and I don’t care if you got a hard on for me,” he said.

“It’s not you,” I replied, “it’s, it’s this air, and being naked.  I haven’t been able to jerk off since I got home.  It’s weird, you know, with your parents a few rooms away.  I never used to think about it, but now, I just can’t.”

“Well, there’s no one around now, so let me see it,” he said with a smirk.

I took my hands away, my hard dick stuck out from me and a little to the left.  He turned away and started walking so I followed behind him, this time a little behind.

When we got to the barn and touched it I was fully prepared to turn and run back to the bail of hay and grab my clothes, get dressed, but then he opened the door to the barn and stepped inside.  I looked around, considered my options, then followed.  I stepped onto the old, rough concrete floor, the smell of hay still lingered there after all the time of being abandoned.  Tim led me down the aisle, paused at little things here, a saw horse, a bit of hose attached to a pipe sticking out of the wall, and slow as if to draw out the time I was naked and hard.  He walked from stall to stall as if checking on something, then finally we ended up at the back door again.  I readied myself to run but he put a hand on my shoulder and stopped me.  He stepped out first, motioned for me to follow, and he walked so I walked.

Any little sound, the hoot of an owl, the distant sound of a car engine, a semi-truck engine as it tried to climb the mountain roads, and I thought we’d be discovered.  This was too good to be true.  But we weren’t.  We reached the bail of hay and I scratched at myself, waited for him to retrieve our clothes but he just stood there beside me.

“Are you ready for this?”

“What,” I said.

He took my hand and started to run so I ran just to keep up.  There we were two young men, naked and running through the field.  His limp dick bounced and so did my hard dick, though a little less, but we just ran all of the way to the end of the field where the woods were.  I tried to turn back but he pulled me along the fence line to a spot where there was an opening.  He pulled me through it and into the woods, then we ran again into the trees, branches scraped across our skin, leaves and things crushed under our feet.  This is what it must have been like to be primitive man, I thought, so free, so naked and running around.

He took me down to a creek that we followed until we found where it started, a small waterfall, and I could tell at once that it would be the deepest part, just a few feet, maybe up to our waists, but deep enough to conceal my raging boner.  I jumped into the water first, felt it wrap me up in its coolness, and swam a few feet.  Tim let out a yell and jumped in behind me.  I turned and shushed him but he waved it off.

“What if someone hears?”

“We’re so far away from anyone, besides I come out here all of the time,” he said.

“But we’re naked,” I said.

“So what?  Do you really think there’s some cop around every corner?  Not a chance, no way, it’s just us, and nature.”

He let his knees go loose like I had and began to bob there in the water in front of me.  He moved back and forth and it became like this little game, this challenge.  He went left then right, my foot slipped on the mud and got around me, as I struggled to recover my footing he got up behind me so that when I got to my feet he was in full contact with my body, his chest against my back, his arms under mine, around me, held me, his hips behind mine, his thighs against mine, his feet on either side of mine, and his penis, his hard penis was between my thighs.  And for a moment I almost cried out in surprise when he put his fingers in my mouth with one hand and took hold of my hard penis with the other.  I could feel his fingers against my tongue, creek water dripped down the back of my throat.  He held me for a long time until I calmed and came to my senses.  I tried to speak out but he shushed me with these little sounds as he kissed at my ear and down my neck.  I was on edge.  He turned me to face him.  Our hard dicks pointed at one another he took mine in hand, whacked at it with his just to show me how much bigger his was.  He pulled me into a kiss and stuck his dick between my thighs.  I wanted him so bad but he pulled my head away by my hair.

“Not yet,” he said, “you don’t deserve to cum just yet.”

By the time we reached the bail of hay we were both almost completely dry, and my dick had gone soft but I had that need, that carnal need to be satisfied.  And it was going to be over too soon, I hated the idea of getting dressed and it ending so when he didn’t stop for our clothes and he kept pulling me to the barn I knew it wasn’t over.  He pulled me through the field, I slipped and scurried, and he just kept pulling me until he had me in there and he closed the gated door behind us.  He took hold of my dick as I stood there.

“I feel so naughty,” I said.

“Do you want me to punish you?  Because I can punish you,” he said.

“What did you have in mind a little spanking?” I asked coyly.

“Better,” he said.

He led me, our hard cocks stuck out in front of us, he led me to the barn where he pulled out this old saw horse.  He made me drag it into the aisle and position it over a drain.  He stroked his dick as he walked around me, ordered me to lay over it.  He tied my hands, tied my ankles, and I was stuck there.  I pulled at the twine, felt the way its fibers hung loose and tickled my hands and heels.  I was bent over, my ass cheeks parted, my dick hung down, and he groped me, tickled my hole, then he left me there for a moment.  I heard him leave the barn and I realized just how alone I felt, how vulnerable.  I felt this breath stick in my lungs, then I heard his feet, the door closed, and he walked to me.  I looked down to see his shoes, looked up to see him stroke his hard dick.  He had a belt and pair of underwear in his other hand.

“Open your mouth,” he said.

He squatted down in front of me, slapped me a few times until I opened my mouth.  He stuffed the briefs inside and I immediately tried to spit them out.  He snapped the belt, my dick twitched.  I saw him stroke it.  I shifted, felt my own dick rub against the wood.  He stepped behind me.  He beat my ass, the novelty was gone in an instant and yet I wanted to do it for him, and because it felt so surreal and fun in this weird sort of way.  One then the other, back and forth, thwack after thwack, I cried out and he kept at me until I managed to work the briefs out of my mouth.  I told him to stop or I’d scream.

“So scream,” he said, “let me hear it, really cry out in pain.”

I started to scream.  And he kept beating me.  Until my ass felt like a bulb left on for hours, a piece of bread just out of the oven.  I screamed until my lungs were sore and my voice cracked.  I broke down, tears ran out from my eyes into my hair, snot just there on my lip.  He stroked himself and walked around me, the occasional tap against my butt cheeks.  That’s when he moved to my thighs and I felt this resurgence, this second wind, and started to struggle again.  My body shook, my legs were uncontrollable, my ass twitched, and he moved to my ankles, untied them.
He told me to lift up my feet and took hold of my ankle, then he whipped the bottom of my foot with his belt.  It stung.  He did it again and I was afraid I’d never be able to put my foot down again.  My toes curled and it really started to hurt, I was holding my breath more, and that’s when he switched to the other foot.  Back and forth, my ass, and my feet, until I was raw.  He had me.  I was completely broken, and that’s when I felt him at my asshole.

“Is that your dick?” I squealed.

“Just my finger,” he said.

“Oh no, your dick is going to hurt more,” I said.

“And you’re going to love it.”

He stroked his dick a little as he sucked the finger of his other hand before he pressed it back against my hole.  He kept at me like that until he got the first digit inside of me, then the first knuckle.  He stood and touched his dick to my hole, too tight, he let it slide up the back of me and I felt the full length of him measured out from my hips to along my spine.  It was big, long, and thick.  He swiped it back down, pressed the tip at my hole, then down my taint to my balls.  His dick touched mine.

“Are you ready for it college boy?”

“Please,” I said.

He spanked me and I pleaded for more.  He ran his fingers along my body as he walked around to my head where he squatted and stuck his dick to my lips.  It was too big.  I tried to shake it off.

“I’m sticking this dick up your ass and you better get it real slick and wet because that’s the only lubricant we got tonight, just a little spit.  What’s it going to be?”

I opened my mouth and wasn’t prepared for it to slip right along my tongue to my throat where I began to choke immediately.  Tears came to my eyes, spit squished out from between my puffy lips that had swelled with desire and friction.  He went right to the balls, I felt them on my top lip.  And I began to choke so he pulled out.  He let me breath for a moment, his hands on my stomach as I tried to suck in just a little bit of air.  He stuck it back into my mouth, between my teeth, he fucked my face as I hung bent in half.  I pulled at the twine, kicked out my feet, but he had me. 

And when he decided he’d had enough of my face, I was thankful for the gobs of spit, the strands that connected us for a moment before he walked behind me.  He pressed that dick against my hole and I just let go.  I screamed and he pushed into me as deep as he could.  He fucked me, more and more, gobs of sweat dropped from his lips as little welcome acts of kindness and humiliation.  He spanked at my thighs, spanked at my ass.  I gave myself over to him, to it.

We were connected, not just physically but something else, he had known my pain of blind obedience and he was able to manifest it.  There I was tied down and we were rutting in an old barn like animals, and it felt like my life, the pointlessness, the emptiness of my life of being good, being normal, trying to blend.  He had me.  My old friend had me and I cried for him, gave my body over to him, he broke me just like my life had broken me, and that’s when I felt it.  I felt this incredible sensation of freedom because it felt like that lie had been uncovered that if I just go along, just do as I’m told then this is what it felt like on the inside.

I felt my dick spasm, an orgasm of pleasure and pain unlike any other pulled at the ends of my body like a stretched rubber band, I could feel it leaving me, this squirt of goo, and it was like my body was restored, complete, until I became conscious of him on top of me.  His sweat covered body slipped over mine until he grabbed hold of me and fucked me harder until he pushed inside as far as he could go.  I felt his dick there, this fullness, and there was this spasm from him, this sensation, and it was over.  I went limp, let the darkness take me.

The next morning I awoke to find myself face down with him wrapped around me on top of me.  I stirred a little and tried to push him away but he was already awake.  He held me there.  I struggled but he held me.  He kissed me on the neck and told me to give up.  I didn’t.  He told me again.  I struggled.  He spanked me, pressed into me, and I let go, I relaxed under him.  He spanked me again playfully and walked away to the back of the barn, opened the door and I looked to see him pissing.  He shook it off, then walked over to me.

“That was incredible,” I said as I lay on my back and looked up to him.

“I always knew you were a little masochist, always so obedient, you had to love pain,” he said.

It wasn’t about being good or bad.  It was about my guilt.  And he knew how to take it away.