This is the story of a city boy who worked for a summer in rural Alabama shortly after World War II.
The story is fiction and it involves explicit homosexual activity. If such is offensive to you or if you are underaged, please read no further. Otherwise, please enjoy.
I would love to hear your reactions to the story. Anything like a summer adventure you've had? All comments or criticisms are welcome, and will be answered. macoutman@yahoo.com.
Also, please remember that although you may read these stories for free, your contributions keep nifty.org open and without charge. Please give what you can.
SUMMER JOB
by Macout Mann
V
At work Malone was beginning to warm to me. I had proved that a city boy could survive in redneck country and even without prior knowledge could plot land descriptions and discover discrepancies in survey results. I'd found five by the third Saturday I was on the job.
I was getting along with everybody and wasn't becoming unglued because of lack of sex. Most people, of course, didn't know why that was. And I was becoming a good enough poker player that after only two weeks, I was close to ten dollars ahead.
Sam Taggart seemed particularly impressed with my card-playing skill. "Hell, Joel," he confided, "I'm the one that supposed to be the math whiz."
"Yes, but I'm the one Lady Luck smiles on," I joked.
Mrs. Hatfield and I were also developing a successful Bridge partnership. So I had not seen the need to take Paul Earl up on his offer to find sex in the woods after supper.
The next Sunday, however, Paul Earl told me that some of the guys were going to look for pussy. Did I want to go? I told him I would, and before noontime dinner changed into jeans.
After dinner, we walked out of the common room door to find what had to be one of the last functioning Hudson Terraplane sedans in the country idling next to the steps. "They're here," Paul Earl said, "Come on."
We climbed into the back seat, next to Chuck. In the front seat were three other guys about our age—I was probably the youngest—Jerry McGuire, Russel Perkins, and Jack King. I had seen Jerry around, but this was the first time I'd even set eyes on the other two. We were introduced, and Jack started the car.
Everybody was wearing shirts, I guessed because we were looking for pussy. Jack was a tall, skinny, brown-haired guy with a thin face and broad forehead. Next to him was Russel, almost the exact opposite, blond, plump, and round faced. Jerry, despite his Irish name was dark complected, but with an oval face and easy smile. He was also built like a junior Charles Atlas.
I couldn't see how six guys out in the middle of nowhere were going to find gals, much less gals that wanted to get laid, but I just wanted to get away for a while. We headed back out on Highway 56, and Jack soon turned into the road to the home brewery. We all contributed a dollar. Russel said that we ought to get more, in case the gals wanted some. Paul Earl countered that we didn't even know if we'd find any women.
This time Jerry went to get the brews. The trunk of the car contained an ample number of Mason jars.
While we were waiting Jack asked me how I liked Sykes. I told him it was quite a change from Birmingham. And I repeated the lie that I probably wouldn't have come if I'd known there weren't any women around.
"It aint that there's no women," Russel observed, "it's that they're all taken."
Jerry returned with eight jars full of brew and we continued down the highway. Jerry opened a jar, took a swig and passed it around. The guys continued to talk about how gross it was that the only "bitch" is Sykes that wasn't hitched couldn't even go out with a guy.
"Maybe one of you could try an arranged marriage," I chucked.
"What's the fuck's that?" Russel asked?
I had to explain. My companions all thought that was gross. They sure as shit weren't goanna get married to a gal without testing her out.
"It probably wouldn't matter in the long run," I laughed.
We reached a US highway and turned south. After a couple of more miles Jack pulled into a roadside park, and damned if there weren't four girls sitting at one of the picnic tables. "I knew there'd be pussy," Russel said.
We piled out of the car and greeted the gals. None of us knew any of them, but the local guys knew who "some of their people" were. It became obvious that this was a spot where boys and girls did come to meet; and the gals, who apparently were still in high school, were very friendly. It was also obvious that sex was the farthest thing from their minds. They also refused our offer of beer, saying they didn't drink, but even if they did, they wouldn't drink on Sunday.
Not knowing any of "their people" or the places they were talking about, I was pretty much left out of the conversation. But I listened with interest. The patois of South Alabama was totally different from what could be heard just a hundred or so miles to the north.
After chatting for the better part of an hour, the girls announced they were leaving. So we returned to the Terraplane and turned back toward Sykes.
My companions complained that they would've loved to have fucked one or more of those gals and how awful it was that they couldn't. I couldn't help asking where abouts they were planning to do it. Not everybody could cram into the backseat. They told me they'd find a place and grabbed their crotches for emphasis.
As we neared Sykes, it became apparent what the next item on the afternoon's agenda was to be. Without a word Jack turned into the road leading to "the haven," as they called it, the little clearing where Paul Earl, Chuck and I had gone the previous week. Again we piled out of the car, this time taking all the brews with us, and made our way through the brambles. All shirts were immediately shed, and there was much scratching of groins.
"Well, thank god if we aint got women, we got each other," Jerry chuckled.
Nobody made an immediate move to begin anything. We continued to chat and drink our home brew, but the talk was more about sex than anything else.
I did learn some interesting facts. Paul Earl was the oldest of the group at 23. Jerry was 22 and Jack 21. Chuck and Russel were both 20. I was the youngest. Chuck and Russel were the only guys, besides Paul Earl, who had had screwed around with another man before Paul Earl returned to Sykes from the navy. The two of them had begun to play with each other when they were still in high school. Mutual jack-off sessions had led to other things.
Paul Earl, without a way to satisfy his needs with a female, had first enticed Chuck into having sex with him. Chuck had involved Russel. Then Paul Earl, while out drinking home brew with the others, enticed them one by one to join the group. Telling them about his frustration while on shipboard, he convinced them man-on-man sex was a normal thing to do.
Paul Earl also admitted to having fucked a black girl while in the navy. Jerry had made out with a couple of local black gals, but had stopped for fear of being found out.
All five, like me, were perpetually horny.
I, of course, was the only one in the group who wasn't doing manual labor. Paul Earl was still assigned to do odd jobs until his leg healed, although he seemed pretty fit to me. Chuck was working on Hatfield's crew. Jerry's dad was a sawyer doing edging and Jerry was working with him. The other two were limbing. That is, after trees were felled, they cut off the limbs, leaving the logs to be hauled to the mill. Only Jerry, who hoped to follow in his dad's footsteps, saw any future at Sykes.
Chuck had been sitting between me and Jerry. Once he had drained his jar, he leaned over and nibbled Jerry's tit. "I know somebody that wants something," he teased.
Jerry didn't reply, but Chuck nibbled his way down to Jerry's navel and gave it a good tonguing, while the rest of us watched. He undid Jerry's well-worn Lees and pulled out a snake at least as big as his own. "He wants to have his dick sucked," Chuck sing-songed.
By now, Russel was into the same routine with Paul Earl, without the accompanying commentary. I turned to Jack and said, "Well, I guess that leaves us."
Jack got to his feet and announced, "Well, we don't need these fuckers," and stripped bare in one quick motion.
Shortly, all six of us were naked. I saw I was the only one there with anything under their jeans. I'd have to remedy that in the future.
Jack pulled me close and pressed his body against mine. He pressed our hard dicks against each other and wrapped his big hand around both. We were about the same size, but he was uncut. "Kiss my pecs," he commanded. And I did.
He responded by kissing mine. I continued to kiss my way down to his gut and onto his rigid dick. I wasn't the only one sucking away. It was funny. It was like privacy was something these guys had never thought about. I wondered if they would as readily have sex with gals while other guys looked on? But it seemed there were rules. Like they never kissed one another on the mouth. I guess that would be queer. And there were no tops or bottoms. Everybody had to be completely versatile.
Back home I'd thought that any boy that would get with another guy had to be a "fucking fairy," but these fellas were all hard bodied, tough, working men. For me it was some kind of awakening.
I sucked Jack like I was enjoying it. And I was. I swished my tongue under his foreskin to taste his precum and savored the smell of his body. And I delighted in the flavor of his cum, when he splashed his essence against my throat, noting that he was the third guy that I'd let deposit sperm in my mouth.
"Thanks, man," Jack said. He dropped down next to me and palmed my dick. We watched Chuck eat the last dollops of cream out of Jerry's pubes, where they had spilled. And Paul Earl was fucking Russel's face like it was going out of style.
"Fuck yeah!" Paul Earl yelled as his load spilled from the corners of Russel's mouth.
"I want Joel to fuck me," Chuck sang out.
"Well, I've never `fucked my buddy' before," I admitted. "I don't even know how!" I was suddenly sorry that I hadn't taken Paul Earl up on his offer.
"Shit, man," Chuck replied. "You've watched Paul Earl fuck me. Just do the same thing. I wanna feel a new dick up my ass."
"Do it," Jerry chimed in. "We'll let you know if you're not doing it right. As much as he's been fucked, he sure as hell won't have any problem taking you. Just let him suck you enough to get you real wet, spit on his asshole real good, then ram it up."
Chuck lay on his back and I moistened my tool in his mouth. He hiked his legs and I spit between his cheeks.
"See if you can get your tongue in his ass," Jack urged.
Gross as that sounded I went ahead and did it. Then as the other four looked on, I slid my dick into Chuck, and he moaned with pleasure. As good as Paul Earl's lips had felt the first time he closed them around my prong, this felt twice as great. I inserted my full length into his willing receptacle.
"See," Jerry said, "it's just like fucking a woman."
"Not exactly," Paul Earl corrected, "but the motions are pretty much the same."
"Yeah," Russel chimed in, "pretend he's a pretty little virgin gal and you're the hot college boy."
"Chuck aint never been a virgin, since you got hold of him," Jerry teased.
"Who the fuck wants to be a virgin?" Chuck chimed in. "Hump me man!"
I began to pump his ass, gently at first. I didn't want to hurt him. But I guess he'd been fucked so often, nothing could hurt him. To the cheers of the other four I pounded harder and harder and faster and faster, until I blasted what felt like a quart of cum into his ass.
As the round robin continued, I sucked and got sucked, but nobody seemed to want to fuck me. I guess Paul Earl had let it be known that he was going to have my cherry. Later.
Copyright 2013 by Macout Mann. All rights reserved.