Carter's Lake.
This is a story for adult men. It depicts gay sex. If this offends or bothers you, DO NOT READ IT. It is a fantasy and is not a sex manual, or a discussion of safe sex. If you have, comments send them to bldhrymn@yahoo.com or bldhrymn@aol.com
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I am Douglass Winslow but was called Win Winslow since I had the same name as my father. I had no intentions of returning to my hometown after graduating from Central State University, but things happen. Dad had a heart attack and had to take things easy. My mother couldn't deal with it. They wanted to be independent and live the way they used to live, but that wasn't possible. They were headstrong and didn't want to admit that. I moved back home to help.
I didn't live with them, but I was close enough to help when needed. Dad sold insurance and he went to the office every day and took care of old clients. Mom cooked, cleaned house and saw her old friends, but shopping and driving was a problem. Anything more than a mile was a challenge.
Yardwork was out of the question as was clearing snow, raking leaves or mowing the lawn. I was teaching English at the high school and spending two afternoons and part of every weekend doing chores. Their lives continued as they had been, but my own life apart from them was minimal.
The school was good and while teaching English was not a dream job, I was good at it. I am energetic and a good lecturer. I made it interesting and even some of my poorer students seems to respond to my teaching. At first, I had the students who were college bound, but Mrs. Powell, the ageing battle-axe who taught the non-college bound classes died, and I taught one of those classes too.
These classes were the guys who would become auto mechanics and the girls would end up waiting tables or knocked up a few days after graduation. There was one big problem with the classes. To play sports you had to a have grade average of a C. Mrs. Powell used that to terrorize the students and the coaches. School athletics was a big deal for many of the students and for the town. It was a major source of pride and entertainment.
Mrs. Powell wasn't a happy woman and she made life miserable for these students and conducted open warfare with the Coaches. I wasn't at all interested in the athletic program, but I wanted for the students to do well. I switched the reading list to books that were of interest to them and rearranged the classes so they could see a reason to read. I gave them useful information such as how to write a resume, and a report. I had a lesson on how to go to a job interview.
Fortunately, Mrs. Powell's death lifted a dark cloud hanging over their heads. They were willing to work with anyone who wasn't her. Between school and my parents. I had no extra time for myself. I did have a little time to go hiking, and I enjoyed that as exercise and to just get away.
On one of my hikes I discovered Carter's Lake. It was small and halfway up the side of a mountain. It was three miles from the road, a good hike. The lake was quiet, secluded and pretty. There was a little used trail to it. When I had an afternoon off, I could have a few quiet hours there. It was a perfect hike, not too long and not too far.
I had reached the lake on afternoon on a hot spring day and was surprised to find two men there swimming. One of the men got out of the water. He was nude. This was a rural area and skinny dipping had been a traditional summer activity. There was a pool at the country club but no other swimming facility.
One of the men saw me, got out of the water and came over to me. He was naked and I recognized him as Marty Miller the father of one of my students known as Little Marty. Marty and Little Marty were about the same size now.
"I hope I'm not bothering you, I was just hiking by," I said. "I'll be on my way back."
"My buddy and I were just cooling off, Mr. Winslow," Marty said. "You are free to join us. The water is cool and crystal clear."
"I don't have my trunks with me," I said.
Marty smiled. "The dress code here is pretty informal. I'm not sure anyone has ever worn trunks in the pond," he said. "It's going to be a hot day."
"I guess I will try it," I said. I am gay, and the chance to be with naked men was appealing. He took me to a clearing where he had left his clothes. I stripped and jumped into the cool and refreshing water. Marty was with a guy named Rupert. Marty owned a tire shop and I think Rupert worked for him. Both men were big and muscular. I am tall and thin.
I had noticed that Marty was well equipped as was Rupert. I knew Marty was a single father, his wife took off with another man, leaving him with Little Marty.
I like to swim and almost made it as a member of the swim team at college. Marty was impressed. When I dove under the water, I noticed that Marty and Rupert were both hard.
When I came up, I said I had better get back to my hike. I began to get out of the water. I saw that I was sent erect, so I stopped.
Rupert had noticed my cock. "If you stay for a little bit longer, we might have a little party," he said.
"Rupert and I are old pals," Marty said. "We're just relaxing. This isn't a private club, but if it were a club, Rupert would be the membership committee." He began to get out of the water and was hard.
"I'm a sucker and top, Rupert sucks tops and bottoms," Marty said. "What's your poison?"
"I like it all, but I am a bit rusty," I said.
"Shit, you might not believe me, but rust removal is my special skill!" Rupert said.
He had been a blond, but was mostly white now, he had pale skin and except for his tanned, weathered face and V shape where his shirt was unbuttoned at his neck. Marty had salt and pepper hair covering his body, front and back, he had tanned arms and legs. Both men were uncut. Marty's tool was thick and long, his cock head entire covered by his foreskin. Rupert's cock was long and thin, a white snake. His pink knob peeked out of his skin. His tits were a delicate shade of pink too.
Marty dropped to his knees and began to suck my cock. I was surprised by his speed, but a second or two later my cock told me it was fine. He looked up and told Rupert that my balls were churning out juice and I was already into it. About five minutes later Rupert's cock was in my ass.
"You're past the sphincter," Marty reported. Somehow, he knew the location of Rupert's cock in my ass by sucking my cock. They traded places and I discovered that I was attracted by thick, oversized tools. To say I liked it is an understatement. I had Rupert' legs on my shoulders and my cock in his ass when Marty entered me. A few minutes later I baptized Rupert's ass as Marty gave my prostate a sperm bath.
I asked if they came to the lake often. Marty said they came mostly on weekends and on the evenings. "I could give you a call, if we know in advance," he said. I said that would be fine. Our little group broke up.
I wasn't a virgin, but I had never been with men like Marty and Rupert and never with men who were so skilled. In the freshmen dorms at college I met a big pudgy guy, Woodrow, showering at 2:00 in the morning. He was shy, but his cock got hard. His roommate was a BMOC and spent most nights keeping his harem happy, so Woodrow had a room to himself.
Woodrow was a Physics major, was not attractive and had no social skills. We went to his room and he sucked me dry. He and I discovered fucking together. He shot off instantaneously every time his cock penetrated my sphincter. I have a long fuse and could fuck him for an hour. Woodrow turned out to be a good guy with a dry sense of humor. We became friends.
Two years later I connected with a distinguished author-in-residence, DuVal Jones. I was a sincere and driven English Major, and he thought I was handsome. He wrote novels of the Auntie Mame type. They were hugely successful. The reviews called him as the poet laureate of the pretentious, shallow and wealthy. DuVal attracted gay boys like flies.
By DuVal's standards I was rough trade. I had a hairy chest and was muscular from swimming. I also wrote a paper on Metaphysical Poets. He said they were his secret vice. I had memorized John Donne's Sacred Sonnets and could recite them as he sucked my cock. He was into what he called "butterfly kisses." They provided just enough sexual stimulation to keep me hard and drooling precum, but not enough to have an orgasm. DuVal didn't like sperm. After an hour or two with DuVal I would return to fuck Woodrow have an extended orgasm in his ass. He loved that. He was doing well in school had had friends. He claimed that my regular injection of sperm into his backside made him more socially skilled.
Marty and Rupert weren't pretty, but they made up for that by intense sexuality and drive. They were gentle at first and then increased the sexual intensity as I adapted. I mentioned that I didn't expect them to be gay. Marty said they weren't gay; they just liked to get off together.
"You sure look like lovers when you are going at it," I said.
"Well, Rupert and I realized the sex was better if you pretended you were gay when you were going at it. You might say we're gay from the time we get hard to the time the last dribble of cum dribbles from our cocks," Marty explained. That worked for them, and it worked for me too.
I eventually met some of their friends. This was a surprise for me. It is easy to fall into the movie and television version of gay men. It is safe to say that version is not comprehensive or inclusive. I know men who like sex with women but don't like women as persons. I know men who like women as friends and as person, but not as sexual partners.
I am pretty sure that fucking a guy and shooting your load is more than a casual friendship. After a while I realized I liked Marty and Rupert as friends, and probably more than just friends. I didn't know if this was sex enhanced friendship or friendship enhanced by sex. It helped that we all enjoyed sex a lot.
The town I lived in, Mount Wilson, sat in bowl at the foot of a mountain. In the summer, air tended to sink into the bowl along with heat. Many residents had a cabin in the mountains. Mount Wilson was a quiet town, but it was dead in the summer. My parents went to the cabin for the summer and I would drive up with food on Sunday. They sat on the porch and did nothing. My mother had been delicate, elegant women. She remained elegant but the delicacy turned in frailty. Doing nothing and playing bridge was about all she could do.
Marty called me once and a while, and we visited the lake. Like most actions, practice makes perfect, and all was well. The week before the 4th of July Marty called and said he had a friend I might like to meet. "He's an older guy, but he's into it big time," he explained. I said I would try to make it.
It turned out that I got to Carter's Lake there early and was already in the water swimming when Marty and Rudolph came with two men. One was John Dewing, the retired football coach of my former high school's rival and the other was Micky the Man, a local rocker who had been hot stuff fifteen years earlier. I hadn't known them personally, but I knew of them.
When I got out of the water, they clearly liked what they saw. Both men seemed older than I remembered but tried to stay in shape. When I introduced myself, Coach Dewing said, "Damn, I know your Dad!"
"Don't worry, I won't tell if you don't tell," I replied. We all laughed.
"Win, Rudy and I are versatile. Do you boys have any limits?" Marty asked.
"Well I used to be all top, but now that I'm older I seem to like when a young guy unloads in my ass," Dewing said. "Turnabout is fair play I guess."
"I used to get my share of groupies. I went to Nashville to become world famous. Some high-priced talent unloaded in me. I never made the big time, and it turns out the cum dripping from my ass was the closest to stardom I ever got," Micky said. "I was pissed at the time. I now think it was the highpoint of my career."
The men stripped and Coach Dewing dropped to his knees and started sucking. "Damn you have some nice meat," Coach said.
"It looks to me that we are all rated A-number One meat," Rudolph said.
"I can tell you new guys, the sauce is good too, if you are into cock drool," Marty added.
"Coach is borderline diabetic. I think of his cum as perfect for dessert," Mickey said. A little later Coach was fucking Marty, and I was in Micky's ass. He was no fool. He compared my cock to those of the country stars who had fucked him. My cock compared favorably. A little later, Rudolph connected with Marty and Coach eased his tool into my back end.
"It's nice to do this with a guy who isn't trying to get on the team," he said in my ear. I was the filling in a fuck sandwich since I had been deep in Marty's behind. I was fucking and being fucked at the same time. Rudolph slipped his cock into Coach as Mitch fucked him. The porn people call that a train fuck. In our case it was more of a caterpillar motion. When Rudy went deep, Coach did the same to me and the thrust rippled along the line.
I wouldn't have thought I would like that, but I didn't have time to think about it because the sex was so good.
Coach and Mitch had indicated they liked the top, but once we were naked, they seemed to like the bottom. We took a few breaks to swim and before resuming more heavy-duty sex. Eventually I fed Coach my load as Marty fucked me. A half hour later I took Coach's load as Rudolph fucked him. His sperm was sweet and tasty.
It was getting late and we went home, but I think all of us wanted to meet again. A few days later Coach Dewing called me and asked me over so we could talk. I said sure. I was on the Summer break and I didn't need to see my parents until the weekend. Dewing lived in East Wilson, a town fifteen miles away. He asked me for lunch.
He lived in a house just outside town. The house was small, but the lot was wooded and the gardens around the house were beautiful. We talked over lunch. He told me he enjoyed meeting me. "I tend to like mature younger men. When I was a coach, I never made the first move. I have a good nose for avoiding users and the immature boys. Everyone loves the coach, especially a winning coach. Some of my players were still kids, others were full grown men."
"Once and a while I'd shower with them and they get a gander. That was as far as it went. A few of the guys made to college level football. I connected with a few of them. I had better luck with the fans, especially with the fathers and uncles of the players," he said. "I think they pretended that they were helping their boys. I think they were fulfilling their teen age fantasies. I have a big cock and most didn't have a problem taking it. I think they had practice."
"Everyone I know is getting older. I like younger men, but I can't attract them anymore. You had me going when you shot off in me. I was hoping I'm not a charity case. I had a feeling Marty thinks I'm an old geezer."
"I seem to like nice men, not any particular type," I said. "I do like sex and like men who are into it. I have trouble shooting off in men I don't enjoy. I felt you react when I shot off in you. I didn't know it you liked me using your ass as a cum dump until then."
"It took me a while to get used to taking it in the ass," Coach admitted. "Do you know Freddy of Freddy's flowers?" I shook my head. "He gave me lessons. Freddy is a good artist. It would have been good if he taught art at school, but here was no way the school board would hire him.
"I was on a committee doing a regional awards ceremony banquet and the florist doing it let town with the cash we paid him. Freddy did it for cost in four days. It was a big hit, and I got to know him. We hit it off. He's a small hyperactive man. nature took its course and I fucked him," he continued. "he was into it big time and I discovered that being with a guy who's into it big time was better than fucking a log. He wanted to fuck me, and I said okay. He had a small cock."
"It turned out his wasn't that small, and he could all but play the National Anthem on my prostate. I was shocked. Fucking wasn't what I thought it was. I was shocked," he explained. "I felt some of that with you."
We had a good conversation. I realized that Coach was 100% gay but had never admitted it to himself. I think he was trying to readjust and allow himself to admit that and allow himself to enjoy sex with men. It's difficult when every time you have sex with a man and enjoy it, you beat yourself up for being evil, a pervert or a sicko. You never allow yourself to enjoy being yourself.
I spent the weekend at my parent's cabin doing chores and getting them food. Dad told me that Mom wasn't as sharp as she had been and seemed weaker. He thanked me for being so helpful. I hadn't thought he had noticed, and he had never given any indication that he knew how much I was doing for them. I was surprised and pleased. I left at noon on Sunday and check my messages on my cellphone.
There was a message from Freddy's Flowers. I called him. After introductions, he said that Coach had mentioned me, and he asked if we might get together some time. I asked if Coach Dewing would like to join in.
"I was thinking that a solo meeting might be good so we could see if things click," Freddy said. "Do you have some free time in the next week?"
I said I did. I told him I was driving home from the mountains and was about 20 minutes from East Wilson. That worked for him, so I was at his door by two. Freddy lived in a former farmhouse that was now enveloped in flower gardens. I later found out he specialized in using local flowers in his arrangements.
Freddy introduced himself. We went in the house and talked briefly. "Did coach mention I am a flaming faggot?" he asked.
"Did he tell you I'm sexually generous?" I asked.
Freddy burst out laughing. "I suspect sexually generous is the polite term for flaming faggot! Coach seems to think I'm a pipsqueak too," he said.
"He did mention you were short, but he seemed to think all the important parts of you were full sized and in full working order," I said.
"He told me you were a teacher. I was thinking we might have a little show and tell, before we get too deep in conversation," Freddy said. "I suck, fuck, top and bottom."
I smiled and said I could work with that. We went to a back bedroom and stripped. Freddy was a good-looking man, but not quite at full size. I guessed he was five-three or so. A minute later he was sucking me. Five minutes later, we were in the sixty-nine position. I was as if we had known each other for years. He was drooling precum, so I knew all was well. Freddy complimented me on my home brew.
It surprised me that fifteen minutes of cock sucking can tell you a lot about a man.