Sometimes I wonder if living in Bredmire Valley my entire life has irreversibly junked up my personal reality of what the world is really like.  I mean, nearly 18 years of 'small town' stuff has a way of warping a guy's perception.  

Plenty of local guys I've hung out with here in town would agree, because when you miss out on things like movie theaters and shopping malls and Taco Bells, it's almost as bad as going without porn. I have dreams about eating hot-sauce-drenched tacos for breakfast, then heading out to the mall to watch the latest horror flick or two, and finally coming home on the subway, where I'd meet a mysterious non-english speaking Russian spy, who'd use sex as a weapon to get me to give up American secrets or something.  

That's why Bredmire sucks.   

The only other gay dude in this town besides me is Barry Finbaker, and he couldn't tell you the difference between a cum shot and a flu vaccination.   

I guess I should focus more on the things I do have, like nature and privacy and never having to worry about long lines or stop lights.  But sometimes that just doesn't cut it.  

Luckily, by the end of summer things will be changing dramatically.  My brother and I finally decided on a college this year, and we chose to attend California's University in Santa Cruz, which is not only a lot bigger than our town, but also has the obvious surfing perk and all the bikinis that go along with that.  

Not that I'm a big bikini fan, but, um... my brother doesn't know that.  

Going off to college together wasn't by design.  It just happened that my brother took a year off after high school to work and save up some money.  That allowed me to 'catch up' to him, since I graduated this year.  Our folks insisted that we attend the same college -- mostly for ease of visiting us both at the same time -- and for financial reasons.  

So to celebrate my graduation from high school, and to get away from our parents, we had planned a three day camping trip this summer with our friend Dane, who will be going his separate way for college.  It'll be incredibly sad losing such a good friend, but the way we all figured it, we could go out with a bang by making the camping trip a crazed warm-up to what living the frat life will likely be like when we make our big move to an actual town.  

On 'paper', it seemed like the perfect plan.  But God or Satan or someone decided to screw things up. The trip never got off the ground because my brother had to cancel at the last minute. Our one and only grocery store in town called him in for a summer job he'd applied for, and he couldn't let the camping trip stand in the way of the extra money he'd be able to earn.  

I knew I was screwed,  because Dane is more of my brother's friend, and I've always been a 'tag-along'.  No way he'd wanna go camping with just me.   Nothing wrong with dreaming about it though.  

This is kind of weird to admit, and I'd never tell a living soul, but almost every time I jack-off, it's because of Dane. It's such a turn on slow-stroking to the thought of someone you can't have.  When I'm all jacked-up like that, and I finally shoot all over the place, sometimes a stray shot will bust between my lips and detonate inside my mouth before I even have time to react. It's because I foolishly get my face way too close to my AK47 boner -- and BAM, it's all over.   But when that happens to me I'm cool with it, because I like to imagine it's Dane's spermed-up spunk that's blowing down my throat, and not my own.   

It's sorta awesome.  

Anyway, this morning as I was out sitting in my usual spot under the willow, I was pretty much resolved in knowing that today would be like any other day.  But I didn't let that stop me from daydreaming about how fun camping could have been.  Last year the three of us had a blast doing all kinds of stuff like hiking, playing cards, cooking, being arsonists with the campfire, and dancing around like idiots.  It just doesn't get any better.  The only down-side is there's no place to swim up there, but everything else was pretty much perfect -- especially the creepy darkness of the forest when it's time to tell horror stories at night.  

And just as my fading daydream was slipping from my mental grasp, my return to reality was inturrpted by the sound of someone pulling up in our driveway out front.  And there was no mistaking the sound of the engine.  It was Dane's Jeep.  

I figured that it was a pretty safe bet that since my brother Cody was at work, Dane had dropped by to give me a 'maybe next year' slap on the back.   You know, like one of those hospital visits where you stop by to be polite, and stay just long enough to make it look like you care.  

And a few minutes later, in he walks through the gate that opens to our backyard, and he heads right for me.   As he approached within around ten feet of me, I tried to summon mental powers that would allow me to freeze him in time.  But my mental powers suck, so I just tried to memorize him instead.    

He was only wearing two things:  A pair of burnt-orange sweat pants that he'd converted to shorts, and a pair of hiking boots.  He looked like a teen G.I. Joe might have looked before he joined the military -- not overly muscled, but beefy enough to make your dick fall in love with the inside of your pants pocket.  And as he came up closer to me, he flipped his dark brown hair away from his jaw-dropping green eyes, completely oblivious to how awesome that one simple movement made him look.  And as usual, his dimples -- which are like weapons of mass destruction -- looked like they were throwing a party for his handsome, unshaven face.  

And I swear on a bookshelf full of bibles that I'm not a pervert for noticing this, but he was definitely going 'commando', and his monster dick looked like a caged animal -- the kind that should be taken back to the wild, and set free.  

I learned that from watching Animal Planet.  

I gulped in some air, and did my best to act like seeing a half-naked teen-god  was something I do several times a day.  

"Yo," I said smiling, "'sup man?"  

He fired a smile back at me, and ran a hand through his uncombed hair -- which made his ripped abs and bulging biceps look like they were challenging each other to a flexing contest.  

"Hey bruh, you know, just checkin' on your status." 

What a strange thing to say.   

"My status?"  I asked.  "My status is non-existent.  I'm just sitting here, Forest Gumping my day away, wondering if I should go on a long-ass run or pop open a box of chocolates."

He laughed, and looked over towards the house.  

"So, I take it you're already done packin' and shit?"  

"Huh?  You mean for college?" I asked.  "I still got time.  But it might not be such a bad idea to get a jump on it I guess."  

He looked back over at me, and shook his head.  

"Dude, I mean for the camping trip.  Did you forget about it or what?"

I wasn't following him at all.  

"Um, no, of course not.  It got cancelled, remember?  Cody has to work."

There was a long pause before he spoke again.   And then he says:  

"So the deal is that because your brother has to work, that you cancelled our trip?  Dude, what the fuck?  I mean, I got the Jeep packed and ready to go."

I think my balls heard him before my ears did, because I felt them stop whatever they were doing, and look at each other in disbelief.   

But if you knew Dane as well as I do, you'd see that he was kinda pissed off at me.  It was like he wasn't even going to wait for me to respond.  He looked ready to bolt -- he even started turning around to leave.  

I stopped him just in time.  

"Fuck, Dane,"  I said, "I swear to God I didn't know you still planned on going.  I just figured there was no way in hell you'd want to go without Cody. Me and you have never done anything together.  Not ever, right?"  

He turned back towards me.  

"You're so sketchy sometimes.  What's up with that?  We've been friends for fuckin'-ever.  Cody and me don't do shit by ourselves either, because us three are always together."  

Of course he was right.  And I didn't know what to say.  'Sorry' would have sounded lame.   

"I can be ready in 20 minutes."   I heard myself say.  

I jumped up like someone had taken a flame torch to me, and practically sprinted to the house.  Dane just shook his head at how corn-ball I must have looked.  I usually do a better job suppressing emotions than that.  But this time was an exception.     

So by  going at warp speed, it didn't take long to shove what little I was bringing into his Jeep. And since he had packed all of the food, it made it that much faster.   

It almost felt like I was escaping prison; that I had to hurry before I got caught 'busting out'. Giving my parents time to get home from work and change their minds about me leaving town -- minus my brother -- was not an option.  

Anyway, the escape was a success, and I was a pretty happy convict once the penitentiary was in the rear-view mirror.   

It was a long-ass way to Buck's Pass from where we live, and by the time we got high enough up in the mountains to see pine trees and icy, crystal clear streams raging along the roadside, we must have listened to a million songs, singing along with them until each of us was hoarse. 

We had the top down, letting the wind blow in our hair, and it felt like I didn't have a worry in the world.  The further we got away from home, the more free it felt. 

During the times when it was my turn to drive, you could see that Dane felt the same way. He'd push back his seat as far as it could go, prop up one of his size 15 feet on the dash, and let his other leg just sort of dangle up over the top of the passenger door -- singing his ass off, and tapping his hands on his stomach like he was playing the drums.  Every now and then he'd smack his hand on my knee, which was apparently part of his drum set.  

My knee's never been that happy.  

I guess that's what they mean when they say 'getting there' can be half of the fun.  It was super chill.  But, after such a long drive, I'll admit that it was a relief when we finally arrived at our camping spot.  If you'd heard Dane sing non-stop for three hours, you'd be relieved too, by the way.  But I will admit that when someone is that sexy, it almost doesn't matter if they can't carry a tune.   You just smile at the end of the song and tell them how amazing they sing -- and they believe you.   

Anyway, the campsite hadn't changed at all since we'd visited last year, probably because so few people even know that it exists.  In fact, it doesn't even have a name, at least not that I know of.  It's land that's owned by the government, and it's pretty undeveloped except for the fire ring, a shaky picnic bench, and an out-house that must have been built back before Christ was born. The forest really closes in on you when you're so isolated like that, and when you look out at the towering cedars and gnarled pine trees, it almost seems haunted.  

But best the thing about the campsite is that it's free, hardly anyone knows about it, and you don't need to worry about neighbors 'cause there's only one spot to camp.  So, not that it would be any less boring than Bredmire, but at least we'll be bored on our own terms.  

After we arrived, Dane was the first to jump out of the Jeep.  And as usual, the first thing he did was to let out one of his back-arching, arm stretching, Gozilla sounding yawns.  

It actually echoed it was so loud.  

He does everything in a big way like that, probably because of an excessive testosterone disorder or something.  

I just shook my head and laughed as I took in the ridiculous over-drama of it. And looking at him standing there in his hacked off sweat-shorts, I could easily see why the girls love the fuck out of him.  I wonder how many notches he has on his bed post?  I don't have any yet.   

"So, Jason," he says over to me, "let's start this thing the right way.  There's an ice chest buried somewhere in the back of the Jeep, and if you dig around and find me a beer, I'll start setting up the tent and shit."  

Sounded good to me.  So I stepped out of the Jeep, walked around to the back, and started pulling out stuff until I found the cooler.  He took a few steps closer to me, as I opened the thing up, and grabbed him a really cold one.  

"Coor's talls?"  I asked, as I handed him the silver can.  

"Yep, my Mom used to down this shit when she was preggers with me.  According to her I was born buzzed, happy and hard.  So I stuck with it, and it's never let me down."  He said, taking the can from me and smiling at his own lie. 

I watched as he popped it open, took a long swig, and adjusted his over-sized manhood -- all in one fluid motion -- as if beer and big dicks somehow calibrate each other. 

And after finishing off half the can, he nodded to me, then over towards the ice chest. 

"Go for it man, I'm not your brother... you can have one."  

He was right about that.  He's definitely not my brother, and nope, Cody would have never let me drink a beer.  He protects me like that even though we're only one year apart in age.   Either that or he just wants more beer for himself.  

I'm no fool, so I grabbed one and cracked it open just like Dane had done.  But I think he was a little more skilled at it than I was.  Especially the chugging part.   But who cares?  It tasted great after all of that driving.  

And as if we were on auto-pilot, we automatically started unpacking all of our gear, setting up our super cool home away from home.  Since we only had a small dome style tent, I left that to him, while I brought out the folding chairs and bags of groceries.  And by the time I'd set everything out, I realized that we had enough food for at least a week.  No complaints there.  

As the afternoon wore on, we set up a horse-shoe pit, and played a few games.  I think he won most of them, and probably let me win when I did.  And after a while when it got sort of hot out in the full sunlight,  I bravely ditched my t-shirt.  I was a little self-conscious at first, just wearing my surfer shorts in front of a guy that's got a body like Dane has.  

But swimmers like me have smooth, lean stomachs and broad shoulders and shit, so that should count for something, right?  And there's nothing wrong with having an embarrassing bubble butt, or plain blond hair, or regular blue eyes -- lot's of guys do -- and they get by just fine.  But I doubt they score as much as Dane does.  

Oh well.  

As evening approached and the sun sunk down below the tree tops, Cody made a great fire.  He had volunteered to do the first night's cooking, which was going to consist of cooking hot dogs on a stick, and then putting them on buns and drenching 'em with chili.  Pretty easy stuff, but he acted like it took the talent of a master chef to pull it off.  It was fun watching him, actually.  And seeing him work his magic in those raggedy frayed shorts, soaked with sweat in all the right places was kind of cool too.  

And as he cooked, he drank another beer, and even had a few shots of tequila he'd brought while we listened to tunes.   No way I could keep up with him.  But I did try one shot of the gold, and man, that stuff packs a serious punch. 

After dinner, we ended up plopping down in our camp chairs, and just took in the fresh air as we watched the fire burn.  It had been a really good day -- even without my brother -- so I guess it would be fair to say that I was happy and shocked all at the same time.  

We hadn't done much talking up until that moment.  Until then it had just been about listening to our favorite songs.  

"Hey Jason," he said out of nowhere, "do you ever think about what's gonna happen when you can Cody become members of the War Lord House?"   

I was caught off guard by the question, and had to think about it for a second.  

"Yeah," I said, looking over at him, "as far as frat houses for S.C.U. go, that one has a pretty bad rap when it comes to hazing.  We're fucked."  

He squirmed a little in his chair, and took a gulp of beer.  

"Exactly.  You two should probably think about what you'd be getting yourselves into.  You gotta know they're gonna make it hell for you.  Those dudes get off on making you do shit you'd never wanna do, just to embarrass the fuck out of you.  Add to that, that you are brothers, and I can see how it might be pretty gruesome."  

I Looked off into the darkening forest.  

"Well, no one's twisting our arms," I said.  "we could join a different frat.  But Cody said something about War Lords getting all the hottest girls hittin' on them."  

He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to put logic to it.  

"Yeah, that's what I've heard.  But I mean, would you be willing to put up with the things they'll make you guys do? I think I'd do some of it, but not if the heavy shit would destroy me  -- if  it's too crazy."   

"I guess I can handle being humiliated in front of a bunch of 'frat brothers', but I'd rather not.  Who would?  But that's just how it is if we want all the perks, including the dirt cheap room and board."  I said.

He flashed me a questioning smile.  

"Uh huh," he says, "Well, you can pretty much count on them making you do the easy stuff, like sucking face, but what you don't know is how much more it could become after that.  And I've heard blindfolds are usually involved, so there's no way to know your audience, or if you're being recorded.  I'm just saying..."  

I wasn't sure how to respond to that one either, so I just winged it.  

"Yeah, I guess if we'd been normal brothers, we would have already done a bunch of that shit like lots of brothers do growing up.  So we sort of fucked ourselves over in a way.  And now we're too old for the 'experimental phase' of our lives.  So let's just hope they don't surprise us too much."  

I know he was just trying to look out for me and Cody.  I get that.  It's cool to know you have a friend that cares about you like that.   

He seemed to be thinking over my last comment, but he said nothing.  So I did something dumb, and opened my big mouth, as usual.  

"So dude,"  I said, feeling my face redden, "you'd really do the kissing thing if you were me and Cody?"  

He shrugged his shoulders and gave a quick smile.  

"Last time I checked, kissin' ain't sex.  So sure, if it got me into my dream fraternity."  

I smiled back, nervously.  

"Prove it."  I heard myself say.

I took a deep breath... and waited.  My heart was racing like an over-wound clock, and I'll bet my face had gone from red to purple by then.  I was a dead man.  Or at least that's how I felt.  He just shook his head, like he was in disbelief or something.  

And I waited...

And he finally says, "If that's your way of calling me on a bluff, you obviously don't know me very well.  I'm gonna need you to stand up and go grab our t-shirts."  


That was supposed to be the part where he told me to go fuck myself.   And I'm not sure why, but I did as he asked, wondering what I'd gotten myself in to.  And before returning with the t-shirts, I figured it wouldn't hurt if I turned up the music a little louder, and grab him his tequila bottle.  

When I returned, I set everything on the picnic table, and just stood there like an idiot, not knowing what to do next.  So I watched as he got up, and came over to where I was.  

He stood a good two inches taller than me, and must out weigh me by 40 pounds.  He seemed huge, standing that close.  And between the heat radiating off of his body, and the overwhelming scent of raw masculinity, I was --  intimiated.  

By then, I still hadn't ruled out the possibility that my chin would find his fist.  After all, I'd just dared him to 'haze kiss' me.  But instead of re-arranging my face, he took the bottle, swigged a gulp, and set it back down, all while eying the t-shirts.  

"Here's to finding out if you've got what it takes to be a frat boy.  You might wanna lose the gum, and turn your baseball cap around backwards.  And if we're gonna do this the way they'll make you do it in college, you'll need to flip-roll those t-shirts up.  One for my blindfold, and the other to tie my hands behind my back."  

OK, so this was NOT happening.   But it didn't stop me from doing exactly as he'd asked.  And by the time I had the blindfold on him, and his hands tied behind his back, I was starting to like this hazing thing.  A lot.  For one thing, I could take my time looking at every inch of his body without the risk of being busted.  That freeze frame of him I'd wished for earlier in the day had become a reality and more.  

But what now, I wondered.  Was I suppose to just start kissing on the guy?  I mean, until just then it didn't even occur to me that having him all to myself in a situation like that would get me hard -- like-- instantly.   So if I got super close to him he'd KNOW that I'm on the other side of the 'playing field'.  I panicked, and I stalled as I took a step back, praying for a miracle solution to pop into my head.  

"So," he said in is crazy-deep voice, "this is the part that's gonna take some balls, and this is why hazing can make you, or break you.  Ball's in your court man."  


I think he was almost enjoying this.  

My choices were:  

A.  Kiss him and NOT make lower body contact so I could hide the fact that me and my dick are in fucking love with the dude.


B.  Do nothing, and prove to him that I'm not going to be able to hack hazing, and that I'm a total chicken-shit wimp.  

And that's about the time that my miracle happened.  

From somewhere in the darkening forest, there was a rustling sound, followed by a fairly loud snap -- like something or someone had stepped on a small fallen branch.  

"Jason, dude, did you just hear that?  What was that?"  

"Um, give me a sec, it's sorta hard to see out there."  

And... yeah, there was something out there alright.  Deer.  Three of them.  And don't ask what came over me next, because I'm not sure I could ever explain it.  But I did what I never do -- I lied.  

"Yeah, I see something.  Um, he's behind some trees -- like 20 feet away from us.  But yeah, there's some young looking dude there.  He's wearing what looks like a homemade swim suit.  Like a loin cloth."

Ok, so I'm a bad liar, but at least it bought me some time to figure out what I was going to do with my boner and our haze kiss.  

"You're fucking with me, right?" 

"Actually, no, I'm not.  It's just some dude that must be curious about us or something.  Or I dunno, maybe he's lost."

 "Nah, no shit?"  he whispered back, "did he see you looking at him?"

"I'm not sure.  Maybe."  

"That's crazy. There's no houses around.  No other campsites.  Nothing.  Where did he come from?"   

"Must be a runaway."  I offered.  

"Yeah, a runaway that knows where there's a swimming hole around here.   That's some pretty good incentive to find a way to talk to him and his swim suit."  

I couldn't believe my ears.  He was buying it! 


He simply smiled, and I wasn't sure what that meant.  

"Sounds like a plan."  I replied.  

"Um, is he still there?"  

"Yep, "like I said, I'm guessing that he likes what he's seeing, and wondering what the fuck me and you are doing.  But he's keeping his distance, and I don't think he knows we're on to him yet."  

He thought about it for a minute.  

"Well if he likes what he's seeing, just start making shit up as you go along. Something that will get him to come over here."

No way, I thought to myself.  

So I stepped closer, so we were nearly toe to toe, and stuck my thumbs under the elastic waistband on opposite sides of him and pushed them down around an inch or so.   

"You mean like this?"  I asked, totally poised to shove this sweat shorts all the way down."  

He didn't answer yes or no, and instead he said, "Seems a little extreme, but whatever."  

That was a good enough answer for me.  So in one single motion downward, his shorts were at his ankles.   And either he had the world's largest soft dick, or he had a semi.  I didn't really care which.  All I wanted to do was look at it, and commit it to my long term memory.  

He didn't even flinch, or show any hint of embarrassment.  When you look like Dane does, why would you?   He just casually stepped out of the shorts, and kicked them to his side like they were yesterday's laundry. 

I did nothing for the next long minute, trying like hell to figure out where I wanted to go with my big lie, without him catching on.  

"Dane," I finally said quietly, "Jungle Boy just stepped out from behind the trees.  This time, he knows I see him.  I think we found our bait -- you're the bait.  I'm not lying, he for SURE likes what he's seeing.  I'm gonna back away.  Maybe he'll feel less threatened if I'm not next to you, and come closer."  

"Dude, just don't go far.  And if he starts doing anything crazy, stop him."  He said, showing the first subtle sign of being a little nervous.  

That bought me some time to sit on the picnic table bench, and remove my hiking boots.  If I was going to pull this off, I needed to make 'naked' footprints to and from the area of the forest where the imaginary kid was standing.  I'm mean, eventually the blindfold would be coming off, and I needed things to seem real for the next day.  

I moved quickly, and was out and back in under two minutes.  On the way back, I'd made enough noise to sound like I was the approaching kid.   And in that short time -- by the time I was standing in front of Dane again -- his semi-soft dick was totally hard.  

Fear of the unknown does that I guess.  

I should have been prepared for it, but the sheer size of his throbbing cock, pulsing against the evening air, was almost too much for my mind to process.  The thing was easily 8.5 inches.  Maybe more.  And glistening on his huge mushroom dick-head, was a thin layer of slippery looking pre-cum that I'm betting he didn't know was there.

I waited another few minutes, just to build a little suspense.  

Dane didn't say a word, so that made it easier.  And it also gave me a chance to look at his amazing body again, without him knowing it.  It's was the coolest thing ever, especially if you've never gotten a close up view of a straight dude with a killer boner.  

Next, I tried to imagine the slow apprehensiveness a stranger would have moved with before making any form of phsyical contact, and I used that to pace myself.   

I was now the 'jungle boy', so when I gently touched Dane's shoulder, I let him feel a hesitation from me -- so that Jungle Boy would seem extremely tentative.  And it must have seemed realistic, because Dane's cock surged to a new level at the foreign violation from the unseen stranger.  

I couldn't believe that I had pulled it off.  It was like the crime of the century.  I had the naked god of my dreams right in front of me, and I could do anything I wanted and get away with it. 


So I did what I've wanted to do since Dane started causing me to have wet dreams back when I was eleven years old:  In a halting, and curious way, I ran man hands over him like gliding feathers, exploring his chest -- every inch of it -- before moving on to his sexy stomach.  It's one thing to look at rippling hard abs from a distance, but I'd never felt them with my very own hands.   It was totally awesome, and incredibly hard trying keep myself under control.  

I continued my delicate exploration all the way down his perfect 'V' shape, until my fingers met his narrow waist.  And knowing I could have every inch of him, I wrapped my arms all the way around so that I could finally feel  the hardness of  his chiseled ass and muscular thighs.  

Time stopped.

He started making these sexy sounding noises by then, and that was like a green light for me to get even more bold.  So I backed away for just enough time to tug my surfer shorts down, 'cause I knew it would be my one and only chance in life to let our hard-ons smack up against each other.  

The expected shock of it to him presented a risk, because I'm pretty sure that most straight guys might have put an end to it right then and there.  

But he didn't.  

So I grabbed hold of as much of our hard cocks as I could, and took my time stroking them in an otherwise impossible sandwich of skin and lust.  

He made more sounds, almost like he was trying to muffle his unexpected pleasure from what he was feeling.  And I swallowed one or more moans of my own. 

Next,  I did what I'd dreamt of doing for forever.  I put a single finger to his lips -- as a shy jungle boy might -- as if to say, 'shh', and then I dropped to my knees.  

And somehow, I had the presence of mind to pick up a rock, and throw it over near the tent -- which is where I was supposed to be standing -- to make a convincing sound as if I was really over there.  

And with his full hardness pounding in my hand, and his breathing getting more and more labored and erratic, I leaned in, and let his pre-cum smeared cock-head slip between my lips.  My heart committed suicide.  And his throbbing cock seemed to like what was happening, in defiance of what Dane would have normally allowed. So I just went for it, taking as much of the huge thing as I could fit down my over-stretched mouth.  

That was enough to make him utter his first words.  

"Um, that's probably... not... a good idea, jungle-fuck."  

I guess that was Jungle Boy's new name.  

I did the only thing I could do -- I ignored him.  Besides, he could have busted free in two seconds flat it he wanted to.    

So I just held on tight, and did my best to blow his mind.  I didn't even know what I was doing, but I sucked like there was no fucking tomorrow, keeping my grip on his clenching ass cheeks the entire time.   And after a few minutes, he actually started bucking -- thrusting into my mouth.  

I'm sure he was pissed at himself for not stopping it right there.  But blowjobs are hard to come by in Bredmire -- if not impossible.  So that had to be on his mind.  Plus, he was more than slightly buzzed...

I didn't try to make it last, because I didn't want to give him time to think.  I just continued sucking on him relentlessly.  And the total power I had over him was like nothing I could have ever imagined.  I owned him.  

His breathing was even more erratic by then.  

"Fuckin' jungle-punk."  He mumbled.  

I ignored him again, and I let my free hand slide away from his perfect ass, and brought it back around to the front of him, where I grabbed  hold of his enormous balls  -- and squeezed.  

"OH FUCK YOU, PUNK....!!!"  He screamed to the stranger.  

And it was all over. He made a series of primal grunting sounds, and somewhere in the middle of those groans of forbidden pleasure, the first powerful blast of his straight cum plastered the back of my throat.  

My cock nearly burst right along with his.   

His rocketing, smoldering sperm scorched my tongue, tasting the same way a locker room smells, as it blew down my throat at category 5.  That put the finishing touches on my own aching cock, and as the final tick of the time bomb clicked -- it exploded.  We were now blowing our loads together, and my powerful cum shots nailed us everywhere:  My pumping hand, his balls, my face, his thighs -- it was a massacre.  My own spermed-up hand was now his dick lube, causing our cum to mingle in my mouth like melting honey.  He yelled out every cuss word he knew.  And I grunted like a dying Christmas pig.  

And that's all it took for the true fucking of my face to rear it's ugle head. Through the bursts of raging lust, he nearly lost his balance, he was slamming me so hard.   And out of pure instinct I grabbed around to his heaving ass, and did my best to steady him -- not so much because I was afraid he would fall -- but because I needed his pulsing cock inside my mouth as long as possible.        

There was no longer a future or a past, there was only now -- a now I never wanted to end.   And for a while there I didn't think it would.  

And let me just say this -- when you have an enormous jacked-up dick like Dane's shoved all the way down your throat, you don't count how many times he shoots hot steaming rounds of cum down it, you don't care if he shoots so hard that there's no need to swallow, and you forget you have a god under your control -- you just hang on for dear life, and try to survive it.  

I wanted to let his pulsing cock go limp in my mouth after the cumming finally stopped. But it was no time to be greedy.  

So during the time he was sucking in air and recovering, I used the last of my remaining strength to stand, and pull my surfer shorts up.  I made fast, and threw my hiking boots back on, and tried like hell to re-compose myself.  Of course Jungle boy had 'ran' off into the forest by then. 

I was sorry to see him go.  

Shortly after that, and in Dane's mind, I 'reappeared' and got around to taking his blindfold off and getting his hands untied.  I made it look very unceremonious.  

I prayed that I'd gotten all of his spunk off of my lips.  

Luckily he wasn't in much of a mood to talk.  He was probably dealing with massive regret of letting things go way too far.  And I know he was pissed off that the kid got away.  But  in defiance of that, he did say something about trying to set a trap for the jungle boy again tomorrow, so we could find out where the 'god-damned swimming hole is'.  I totally understood his disappointment.  And I LOVED the idea of setting a new kind of 'trap'.  

I wonder if Jungle Boy likes to fuck?

**  Thanks for reading!  If you feel like shooting me a comment or email, I'd love to hear from you :)


B. Taylor

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