Raunch in the mountains

Dan and Mike, their legs sticky with cum, watched as Eli, another man in the guesthouse, walked into the communal bathroom. Eli was taller and more muscle-bound than Mike--a bodybuilder, probably--virtually hairless except for the curly black mop on his head and the thatch above his good-sized, big-veined cock. He sat astride the toilet and began exploding farts.

Then, into the bathroom came a naked boy about 20, thin, with caramel-dusky skin, with a faint goatee and a crimson towel twisted around his neck. As Eli sat and grunted, the boy approached him and bent to kiss his cheek. "This is Ignacio," Eli told Dan and Mike. "Ignacio, Mike just spanked Dan's bare bottom."

Ignacio grinned.

"Show Ignacio," Mike said, and compelled Dan to display his swollen, red behind.

After Eli wiped his bottom, Ignacio sat and moved his bowels.

"Ignacio had an enema last night. He'd been a little bound-up. In more ways than one."

The couples each shared a shower stall, and Mike rubbed Dan's tender bottom with soap. He and Mike were of course "spent," but he couldn't help thinking about Eli's broad shoulders, narrow waist, and boulder-hard buttocks. Did he use steroids to achieve that look?  

"I've got, er, plans today," Mike later confessed. "A friend in Cheshire owns an antique shop, and I promised I'd help appraise some furniture. I work for an auction house in Portland."

So Dan was stuck all day by the guesthouse pool, a cold and slightly slimy body of water, with pine needles and dead moths floating across it. However, Gilbert, the houseboy, went skinny-dipping, as did an African-American couple from Virginia, Miles and Cedric. Dan lingered on a battered chaise lounge, in his flowered Hawaiian jams.

"Was it you who got spanked this morning?" Miles asked, playfully. "Is that why you're in a jam, so to speak?"

"No. No way." Dan squirmed as the woven plastic pinched his stinging bottom.

"Well, Eli says otherwise." Miles submerged. When he resurfaced, he babbled on about Eli--how he was from Evanston, Illinois, but had served in the Israeli army, had been married and twice divorced, was the heir to some pharmaceutical money, had been elected Mr. Leather Chicago, and was "really into ass." He splashed his partner, tossed him an inflatable seahorse. "Here, honey, ride."

That night, Mike visited Dan's room. He tugged off Dan's briefs and deposited him, gently, on the extra-wide bed. Dan flexed his bare bottom, felt his anus tighten. Mike coated his finger with lubricant and spread it into Dan's crack and up his rectum. "I've only done this once," Dan confessed.

"Practice makes perfect."

Glancing back over his nervous shoulder, Dan saw Eli--tall and naked and beaming--slide into the room. Ignacio hovered nearby.

"Open your bum," Mike insisted, and Dan jammed a pillow under his crotch. "Open wide, or you'll get another spankin'."

Ignacio sniggered.

"You," Eli commanded, "bend over!" He gave Ignacio a resounding slap on the bare bottom, so that the boy yelped. Then, borrowing Mike's tube of KY, Eli lubricated his boy's crack and directed the little Hispanic, "Lie down beside your brother."

Mike inserted his huge hog into Dan's rectum as the springs of the bed creaked and pitched. Ignacio was staring into Dan's eyes as the big dick took possession of his bottom, filling him with its solid, and, yes, painful, masculinity.

Then Eli mounted his own boy, and Dan saw Eli's grin, smelled the gel in his tousled hair and the cocktail hour beer and pretzels on his breath. "Right in the bum," Eli stated.

"Two bare bottoms," Mike said, but Dan knew there were actually four bare bottoms in the room, and he couldn't help remembering Eli's big white one, so tight and oddly smooth, naturally, not shaved.

Just then, Eli cut a loud fart. "That's a man's fart. Not a boy's," he said. "Stop clenching your ass, Ignacio. Or you'll get a spanking, like Dan."

The men pounded their boys' bare bottoms. Ignacio gulped and sighed. When Dan did the same, Ignacio wiggled toward him and kissed him on the lips, thrusting his tongue into Dan's mouth.

"You didn't ask permission to do that," Eli snapped. "You're getting a licking, junior."

Simultaneously, both top men came, with the boys squirting as they finished. They'd all flooded the sheets into a sticky, useless mess. "Man!" said Mike, all smiles.

"Boy, I think," Eli corrected him.

"Excuse me?"

The stronger Eli pulled Mike over his knee.

Dan couldn't believe it; he was offended and delighted and aroused.

"Hey, Weis-broad!"

"Quit mouthing off."

Eli gave the shocked top a long, hard, bare-bottom spanking that roused laughter and lured spectators--Miles and Cedric and Gilbert, the houseboy--who all pushed into the now-stifling room.

"Ow!" Mike's face turned as red as his bare bottom, as red as Dan's had burned that very morning. "Cut the...STOPPIT! I MEANIT"

"When I'm damn good and ready. Sound familiar?"

The next day, Eli was out of control. He swam naked in the guesthouse pool, swilling beer after beer. He spanked Ignacio, bare, in public, on the patio. As the guests were finishing the last pretzels at cocktail hour, Eli waved his muscular bare bum over the unwanted appetizers and farted. "Now they're kosher," he told his audience.

"What an asshole," a guest from Hartford whispered to Dan.

"But what an ass around it," Miles said.

For Dan, the weekend at the Moose Pond Guesthouse was a bummer--in the very best sense of the word.

END