The Boys of Summer

The Boys of Summer 11: The Achilles Type

This story explicitly depicts young men forming erotic bonds with each other. Generally they are between the ages of 14 to 17, and they "generally" agree that peer relationships are best. However, among this particular group of youths, there are some who consider scoring some hot older fellow a coup, while there are others who remain enchanted by younger lads. These liaisons appear as dangerous edges, and the author has attempted to depict such outlawish trysts in a realistic way. Also, some of the fellows depicted here do other "bad boy" things like experiment with drugs and get in terrible fights. Last, being sexually versatile, as jocks typically are, they occasionally even have sex with girls. Ultimately, many are the spirits of the young who, in these pages, simply say, "Fuck the rules."

There is plenty of raunchy sex in this tale, but if all you are looking for is pure fapping material utterly devoted to some precise specialty, you might want to look elsewhere. In publisher's lingo, this is a "Coming of Age" novel.

The Achilles Type

"You see!" Ricky shouted, running around the wagon and hopping in. "Go! Go! Get in! Ryan! Get in! Let's GO!"

Ryan got in. He went.

Ricky was rolling around on the seat laughing! "Wait oh wait 'till I tell you what Diane said. Sweet Jesus but she is so cool!"

Ryan was easily able to agree with the last sentiment, but it took some time to extract the full story from Ricky.

He had come out to Diane! She knew about them!

They had only reached a sketchy beginning of the story as they entered the freeway. He made Ricky tell him every word. Ricky obliged, even imitating Diane's voice. He was awfully cute the way he told it. Ryan had been concerned, but he saw it was cool. Diane would have figured it out anyway, and by not trusting her and not admitting it all, she would feel betrayed. So Ricky had done them both a favor. It would be easier for them; in fact, they had an ally.

Enwrapped in this conversation, as they neared the second of the larger towns, Ricky suddenly told Ryan which turnoff to take, heading east, not north.

This did not make sense to Ryan. "Are you sure? The lava fields are almost to Oregon! It's another hundred miles."

"I'm sure! Take this turnoff!"

Ryan's doubt affected his driving. He was so unsure that he missed the exit. Ricky was upset with him, Ryan could see. He kept looking at Ryan darkly and shaking his head. Then, brightly, Ricky suggested they take the next exit. He told him that they could stop at the Chamber of Commerce to get a bunch of topographic maps that Ryan would want anyway.

"Chamber of Commerce? They don't sell maps at those places. We should go to the Forest Service station."

"Yes, they do sell them there! They are better than the Forest Service maps. Smaller scale. More detailed. There's a Chevron that sells great deli sandwiches across the street. Are you going to tell me, 'They do not sell good sandwiches at Chevrons,' Ryan? Huh?"

Ryan decided not to argue. Ricky's tone was unpleasant.

Ryan went along with him. The maps were extraordinary! Very detailed. Very fine. They were genuine Geological Survey maps. Spreading the map out over the hood of the Jeep, Ricky showed Ryan the route to the lava fields. They would come in from the south, not the north. Ricky warned Ryan they might have to run across patches of snow on the road.

"Really?" Even in July?"

"Uh huh. You can't lose your nerve. You gotta get speed and and don't stop for nothin' or you get stuck."

"I didn't know you knew how to drive."

"Of course I do. I drive my grandfather everywhere. That way he can drink beer and look for places to fish. He trained me to be a really smooth driver. I've been up there with him a bunch of times on fishing trips. I've driven most of these back roads."

"I thought you said your step-dad wouldn't let you drive."

"He doesn't, or, didn't. But shit, dude, he's just one asshole. I have a lot of family! I've been driving these mountains since I was ten! Seriously!"

"Well, cool. I hope we don't run into snow though."

"We'll get the best obsidian," Ricky repeated.

They followed Ricky's route, first, backtracking through the town according to Ricky's local knowledge until they reached the highway they had missed earlier. The highway went straight for many miles going up and down over many hills. Ricky kept a lookout for their next turn, keeping the conversation going with endless chatter about all the best fishing spots. He also knew many local Indian legends about the area. When they came to the turn-off, Ryan made sure not to miss it.

Ryan was seeing why the route was not used. There was merely a tiny little sign with numerical designation. Thus, the route was a fairly well-kept secret.

The road off the highway was paved, but not well. It was only after they had driven several miles along it that Ryan did see a sign at a crossing that indicated that they were, in fact, heading to the lake, and sure enough, signs that warned of snow on the road. Ryan had not been aware that they were so high in elevation, for it had been a long, gentle uphill rather than a steep climb.

When they saw the first patch of snow on the road ahead, Ricky exclaimed, "Speed up! Speed UP! I'm telling you speed up! Speed the fuck UP!"

Ryan slowed down.

He was nervous. When they bumped up onto the hard, dirty snow, Ryan even let off the gas, and when he tried to go again, they were stuck!

Ryan, frustrated, revved the engine, but this only spun the wheels futilely.

Then Ricky is... furious!

He is yelling! He isn't just yelling, he is SCREAMING!

"I TOLD You! Why won't you listen! You don't respect me! You think I'm just a fucking kid! When I tell you to speed up, that means speed the fuck UP! ARRGH!"

He suddenly gets out of the wagon!

BOOM! The door slams.

Now, Ryan knows, we see the RAGE of Achilles!

This shocks him. Through the open window Ricky says, breathing hard, but suddenly...calm. Frosty calm. "You may as well turn off the engine. You're not going anywhere, man! Not fucking anywhere! Grab the shovel! I'm gathering up some twigs and pine needles!"

Ryan is too stunned to move.

Still in his cold, brutal tone, Ricky says, "I said, 'Turn the fucking engine off!' Turn it off! Right God damn NOW! Before you dig us in even deeper!"

Ryan shuts off the engine. Ricky has him shaking with this sudden onslaught of fury!

When he gets out, he sees that Ricky is already coming back with fistfuls of twigs. Ryan can guess he is going to throw this on the snow for traction.

"How about I use one of those rock bags, Ryan?"

"You need more?"

"You've never done this before," Ricky states. It is not a question.

He is not quite scowling. Ryan gets it. Ricky is only outwardly calm. He is still angry!

"You're mad at me, huh?"

"Kinda furious, actually, I told you and told and told you. But no! I'm just a kid! What do I know?" He says this as he pops the back hatch and gets out both the shovel and one of the heavy, canvas haul bags.

It is a short handled, narrow shovel, and Ricky flips it around at the balance point so that the edge of the blade is pointing at Ryan. He stares at him with a face could have been carved of stone.

"Why are you so mad?" Ryan asks.

Ricky rolls his eyes. He says, "I'll be a lot less mad when we get unstuck. Now, are you gonna help me gather twigs and shit or what?"

"Why do we need so many?"

Ricky stabs the shovel into the snow. He frowns. He takes a long, deep breath. He says to Ryan, his voice measured and level, "What would you say to a guy, Ryan, who had never read your favorite book, but no matter what you said to him, would insist he knew all about that book."

Ryan says, seeing the trap, "I'd say that guy really didn't know that book as well as he thought."

"Would you." It is a that flat, dead, voice again. It is not a question. Ricky is not interested in an answer. He continues, "Very clever. But see, you know that book, so you know that guy's opinion is uninformed, to put it politely."

"You're saying I'm an idiot."

"No. I'm saying: One, you don't know much about camping, but you argue with me about that; two, you don't know the way, but you argue with me about that; three, you don't know where the good maps are, but you argue with me about that; four, you don't know how to drive in the snow, but you argue with me about that; five, you don't know how to get unstuck; now, are you going to argue with me about that?"

Ricky is actually smiling. This was what one of Achilles' foes must have seen immediately before he stabbed them. Ryan feels like Ricky had slashed him with a whip! He says, "You're saying we need a lot of twigs and shit?"

"A lot. It's a pain in the ass. It helps to have a patient attitude. It's a beautiful day, isn't it? Ryan? And doesn't the cool air feel nice? Also, look how blue the sky is. And by the way, if you are not going to let me drive, we should just turn around and come in from the north with the other tourists because I can't handle any more of this shit, Ryan!"

"OK, Ricky. You win. Give me a break, will you?"

"No. I'll give you a break when you apologize."

"I'm sorry, Ricky. I should have listened to you better."

And just like that, Ricky is as sweet as little kitten, purring and happy, warm and receptive, charming, and exquisitely beautiful.

It was a beautiful day. The cold air of the high country brought with it entirely new scents — sappy, turpentine, conifer, and peat mossy, meadow scents.

Ricky used the shovel to churn up the snow in front of and behind the tires, and he used it to stuff what was needed for traction under the tires, all four of them. When he got in, he saw that Ryan did not even have the wagon in four wheel drive!

Ryan said he thought it was automatic.

"No, it has automatic hubs!" Ricky insisted they get out, and he showed him the hubs. He made Ryan look at the axles under the car and pointed out the wiring and the mechanisms that made the hubs engage.

Ricky thought he had kept his cool pretty well, but Ryan was awfully subdued, and he kept looking at him cautiously. Ricky figured he would feel better when they got unstuck.

Once inside again, he adjusted the seat and mirrors. He fired up the wagon, threw it into "4 Low", and without even looking behind him to see which way he was going, proceeded to nudge the big Jeep out of the snow using one foot on the brake and one foot on the throttle. He first rolled forward a foot, then rolled back. Keeping his momentum, he backed up completely out of the snow patch and onto the dry road where he continued in reverse for forty feet more.

Ryan was impressed. He even clapped his hands. He said, "Ricky, I'm sure you're skilled at driving in the snow, but I'm worried. We should take the other route."

"Yeah," Ricky said, popping it into first gear and zooming forward, "we should!" They crashed up onto the snow going fast! Fishtailing, Ricky ferociously spun the steering wheel back and forth several times as they zoomed across it with the gears whining and the engine roaring. within twenty seconds they were across the patch of snow. Ricky, as he popped the big wagon into "4 Hi" and threw it into "Drive," continued his previous statement with, "But let's not!"

And, "Wasn't that fun?"

He looked at Ryan. His white knuckled hands gripped the passenger side safety handle. His face was pale, and he gritted his teeth.

Ryan looked over at Ricky. Ricky was expecting him to be mad, but he chuckled and said, "Looks like we've passed the point of no return."

Ricky smiled. "We passed the point of no return the moment I saw you, Ryan, baby!"

"Oh, you're a cocky one, you little shit!"

"And you like that, don't you?"

"Yeah, Ricky. I like that, but you scare me!"

"Yeah, Ryan, it's like anal sex, the pain is part of it. I'm taking you places you've never been. Don't be a passenger! Be a participant!"

Ricky decided that it was a good time to tell Ryan something he had been thinking. "You know, Ryan, I gotta tell you, people always say I'm naïve."

"Yeah?"

"And maybe I am. But I can tell you this: I know when I don't know something."

"What are you getting at, Ricky?"

"You know what I am getting at."

He looked over at Ryan, who was frowning. Ryan only said, "Well, you are not naïve about that."

Ricky deliberated telling Ryan about his rage attacks. Ryan had no idea how close Ricky had come to punching him when he got the rig stuck. He decided to remain silent about that. He had already scared the man. Enough is enough. I have made my point. Let him think about it all.

They encountered only two more patches of snow, and neither was as bad as the first. Ricky said, "I did not see any recent tracks on any of the snow. We'll have the lake to ourselves! We'll get naked!"

"And do really gay stuff," Ryan added, making Ricky laugh.

The lava fields were a mix of idyllic green meadows with ancient trees and and an eerie moonscape of tortured rock. Ricky always though the lava looked kind of like a giant cow pie from a cow that had been eating chocolate.

Ryan knew a lot about rocks. He rattled off all sorts of technical terms and names. It was all very interesting to Ricky. He listened. He knew when someone knew what they were talking about.

Ryan wanted to camp right by the lake, but Ricky said the ground was damp, and there would be many mosquitos later. Ryan, evidently, had decided not to argue with him about camping, so Ricky found a nice spot at the edge of the forest that looked to him like a place that the Indians would have used.

"What makes you say that?" Ryan asked.

"Well, for one, it has a warm breeze blowing towards the lake, so we won't get chilled and damp in the night, and we'll have hardly any mosquitos. It's defensible in that we can see or hear anyone approaching. Last, it is pretty, and the view is great."

Ryan had to admit it was a great spot.

"But I do want to build a fire, Ricky."

"Why?"

"It's romantic. I'm a romantic. Don't you want to snuggle up with me by the fire?"

"OK! You talked me into it! I'll get wood. And did I see some hamburger meat in the cooler?"

"Yeah."

"OK. We'll have hamburgers, but how about we first go for a swim. Then, you go scope out all the rocks, and I'll make camp. When you get back, Everything will be ready, and we can just enjoy each other!"

"Sounds good."

They went down to the lake, or rather, one of them, for there were many small lakes, more or less interconnected. The one they were at was more like a large pond with a wall of lava on the far side.

As they undressed, Ricky realized that he had only seen Ryan nude in the dark. This was the first time he had seen him naked in the daylight. He said, "Wow! You're so fucking hot Ryan!"

Ryan commented, "You had a Speedo on under your shorts? Damn! Dude! You're making me crazy!"

"I can see that!" Ricky said, slipping out of his racing trunks and trotting into the water. Ryan reached him when the water was up the Ricky's chest. They came into each other's arms, and a great deal of sexual tension dissipated.

Ryan commented, as he petted Ricky's hair. "You have been edgy all day, huh?"

"Yeah, and you?"

"Yes."

Flatly, Ricky said, "We argued."

"Yes. But you were right to scold me. I should have listened to you better."

Ricky almost said, Yes, you should have, but he thought that would be immature, so he said, "I'm sorry I lost my temper."

"Was that a temper tantrum?"

"I have rage attacks sometimes. I scare people. I'm trying to get over that."

Ryan held Ricky close then. He said, "It did not seem to me you were out of control. I thought you handled your anger rather well."

Ricky sighed. "You remember when you were spinning the wheels, and I got out of the car?"

"Yeah. That freaked me out!"

"Well, I had to prove to you that you weren't going anywhere, but you just were not listening to me! Ryan! I was this close..." Ricky held up a thumb and forefinger with a tiny space between them... "to going off on you!"

Ryan felt Ricky shudder. He asked, "And what would 'going off' entail?"

"Like, uh... Oh. Maybe I shouldn't say."

"Go ahead. You can tell me," Ryan encouraged.

"You promise you won't freak?"

"I promise."

"Well, I was just about ready to start hitting you!"

"That would have sucked. It would have really broken my heart!"

"Not just your heart! Then I was thinking of turning off the ignition and snatching the keys because I was really trying to get you to see that what you were doing was only making things worse. Then I was like, 'Please, God! Help me!' And I had this thought, like, Well if you are really not going anywhere, why not get out of the car? So I did!"

"It sure got my attention."

"Also, right then, I looked over at you, and I realized you were starting to panic. I could see it in your eyes."

"Yes. I was quite out of sorts. I am trying to impress you, you know. Looking like a fool in your eyes is very unsettling."

Ricky sighed. He said, "Oh! Enough! I want to swim across the lake over to those rocks. You want to?"

"So far?"

"Just try and swim as slow as you can. That's the secret of distance swimming. I can swim for miles. Do you believe me?"

"I have learned that when you say something like that, you believe it yourself."

Ricky looked at him in a funny way, but he only said, "If you get tired, just swim on your back."

Ryan did not tell Ricky that he was a good swimmer too. He listened to Ricky's advice patiently. He had frustrated Ricky by not listening to him. He had frustrated him so much that the kid practically had a seizure. He said, "Where are you aiming?"

"I was thinking of climbing that lava wall. It's the high point. See? I want to look around from up there. We could see where you wanted to hunt, and I could see if there any other people around."

"That sounds great, but are you going to aim for a specific point, like in the water?"

He saw Ricky think about that. Ricky said, "You see that twisted tree there with the smaller mound in front of it?"

"Yes."

"How about that?"

Ryan swam slowly beside Ricky, pacing him. It was a long distance. The water was cold, cold enough for the first onset of hypothermia in a half an hour, and they had already been in ten minutes.

Ricky had excellent technique. He alternated sides as he took a breath. That was very polished style. It was a sign of a skillful swimmer. One, two three, right; one, two, three, left. Ryan preferred a four count and would breath on the same side for many counts, then switch. That was the classic style of distance swimming. But Ricky had a pace that Ryan thought of as a fast trot. He got a little extra oxygen, but he did not tire. Soon, Ricky was moving ahead, and Ryan had to pick up the pace a bit, and he got a bit winded. The kid was fucking fast!

When they pulled out at the rocks, he saw that Ricky was trying to not appear winded, but Ryan knew that trick. He was delighted to see that his young Achilles was not perfect, that he was competitive and a little jealous.

Ricky said, as he sat on a smooth spot near the tree, "Look at how shrunk up my cock and balls are!"

Ryan gave his body a good looking over even as Ricky observed, "Yours doesn't shrink as much, and you have one of those dicks that's not small when it's soft. Mine changes size a lot!"

The hair on Ricky's body was mainly blonde. It could not even be seen at a distance. His balls were still bare, and the hair around his anus almost undetectable. He had an elegant, golden brown bush above his penis, but none on his belly or chest.

He looked awfully cute as he shivered. He was covered with goosebumps.

Ricky said, "You're a really good swimmer, Ryan. Real relaxed and natural. Where'd you learn how to swim?"

"I grew up in Santa Cruz. I surfed almost every day."

"Sick! I want to try that. I heard it's hard."

"It's only hard at first. Then it's just pure fun, but the ocean will keep throwing new challenges, and new waters bring more."

"I'll bet you banged a few surfer boys, huh?"

"Got banged, more like it."

Ricky looked at him with an odd expression. Ryan realized that was an expression Ricky got when he was thinking and not really looking.

"How does that work, Ryan? I mean, how do you, like, get guys off who don't do you back?"

Ryan joked, "Well, you can stroke 'em, suck 'em, or get fucked, with many and sundry variations!"

Ricky complained, "You know what I mean!"

"Yeah. But that was never my bag, Ricky. I mean, every once in a while, I'd tell some guy I thought he was hot, and ask if he wanted to, and he'd act like he was all cool about it, then, after he got off, just split and never talk to me again until he wanted some action."

"That sucks."

"Yes. So I got my heart broken that way a few times. It's not easy being gay sometimes."

Ricky said, "There's a couple guys at school, and one in the Boy Scouts, who got reputations as dudes who suck dick or take it up the ass. And some guys just use 'em, but I'm telling you man, they are fucking outcasts! The lowest of the low. Shit beneath a boot heel!"

"'Goats,' they are called in gay parlance," Ryan observed.

Ricky nodded. "So I was really, really scared to admit I was gay, and then, at my step-dad's church! Hoo! You should hear what those fuckers say!"

"Well," Ryan said as he moved to Ricky, "if you would be willing to listen to my opinion, I have some advice about that."

"I am very much listening, Ryan."

Ryan really wanted to talk about religion with Ricky. Ricky kept dropping these little comments, but Ryan had been saving that topic, so he veered the conversation back to the one Ricky had first brought up.

"I understand about the fear, Ricky. Of course I do, but loving men and going around popping off straight guys are two different things. If you do not want to be the 'lowest of the low' as you put it? Then see to it you do not! It's that simple. A beauty like you can be picky. Just make sure the guy is affectionate first, and then you will usually be OK, and even if he's straight, make sure he understands the rules, like not outing you. In fact, usually, he will be more concerned about you blabbing. A lot of queens like to brag about the straight guys they pop, you know?"

Ricky nodded again. "Still. It's risky."

"Yes. It gets easier in college. I told you that before. But also, those guys with the bum reps at school? Let me guess. They are not bold, confident guys, are they?"

"No. They are kinda weird and creepy."

"Well there you have it. I expect you are the sort that will happily kick a guy's ass or die trying should he speak ill of you to others, am I wrong?"

"You are not wrong!"

"So I don't think you should worry about your reputation as much as you think."

"Uh huh," Ricky appeared to ponder this. But he was then done with talk. He hopped up, saying, "Let's climb these rocks huh? I want to explore."

"Sounds fun!"

It was splendid, dashing nude up that great mound of frozen rock, ancient before the First Men. Atop, they saw there was a much larger lake on the other side of this particular lava flow. They had been camping in an area that was not even part of the main lake. Ryan could even see the sails of small boats in the far distance. He saw the glitter of cars in a small parking lot.

"That's the tourist side," Ricky explained standing on one leg with the other bent, like a Greek statue. The wind caught his sun bleached hair. He was completely unselfconscious of his nudity. But that pose...

And even more perfectly, Ricky had not a clue he was doing it.

His beauty is preternatural! No wonder I fell for him!

Ryan laughed. Anyone with binoculars on the other side would have gotten a nice view.

Ricky then dashed along the rounded ridge line of the flow, hopping and skipping in a way that Ryan could not follow. Ryan preferred to keep himself a little behind the top so he was not in full view of the lake, but Ricky seemed to be purposely displaying himself. He was enjoying his freedom.

Finally, he was satisfied that he had seen the environment around them, and that they did indeed have privacy.

The sexy look in his eyes said it all. "Let's go back to our rock, huh?" He said in an excited voice.

"Sure."

Ricky asked, as they made their way down, "Are you horny?"

"Yeah, but I kind of want to save it for later."

"That's cool," Ricky said, "But I could pop one off, and you know me, I'll be down for later, huh? How about it?"

"I didn't bring rubbers," Ryan said.

"What? I though all gay boys carried butt plugs with gay stuff all stashed in 'em!"

"Nah. That's a total myth," Ryan kidded back.

"But we don't need rubbers," Ricky said. "We got a thousand ways to do it! Shit! I could just jerk off looking at you!"

"Oh, Ricky! You say the nicest things! You should write poetry!"

Ricky laughed. After only a slight pause, he sang:

I wrote a poem so long and hard

I splattered come across the yard!

I stuck a carrot up my butt

Because I'm such a little slut!

He made Ryan laugh with his boyish ridiculousness. "How sweet and touching! Iambic quadrameter."

"Huh? Never mind. I never did show you how far I can shoot! You wanna see?"

Ryan retorted, "I never did show you how deep I can suck a cock, you want me to show you?"

"Hoo-yah!"

As enticing as the prospect of Ryan's suggestion was, Ricky wanted to cuddle a bit first.

There was a sandy spot by the tree, which grew in a little niche of otherwise barren rock. Ricky was filled with a cool rush. He touched Ryan's long limbs and flowed his hands through his elegant body hair. If Ryan did not want to get off? Fine! But he was getting off, and he was not going to wait.

And there was no way Ryan was not going to get his dick sucked. Frankly, Ricky could not imagine sex without a cock to suck.

He had gotten on a singing kick, and he kept taking common tunes and turning them gay. He sang, "Sucking cock in the Sunshine," before he sucked Ryan's thick cock in the sunshine with Ryan leaning back against the large rock wall.

Ricky pretended he was a little kid, using his "Leave it to Beaver" voice and looking up at Ryan before he did it, "Oh, gee Mister! Are you sure you want me to put your big hot doggie in my mouth?"

Ryan played along, "Just don't tell your mommy about it!"

"My daddy will be so jealous when I tell him I found one bigger than his!"

Ryan laughed as Ricky hummed, "Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to work I go," while he blew him, rocking and twisting his head and looking up with a cute expression.

Ryan's balls surged up. He was ready to shoot!

He forcibly removed Ricky's head from his dick, as Ricky moaned, "Cock! Cock! I want coooock!"

"Oh, Ricky! You are just getting the biggest kick out of 'kid humor,' huh?"

"I am a kid, Ryan! Deal with it! Cock! I want cock! Cock-a-doodle-fucking-doo!"

Ryan then shows him something special.

He moves to the smaller rock, and there, lies on his back with his head toward Ricky. His long, brown body is arched back, and his head is almost upside down. He says, "Fuck my mouth, Ricky. Go ahead and come whenever you want."

"I thought you said it wasn't safe."

"I'll risk it. I want you. Pump it down my throat. Fill my belly with your jizz!"

To Ricky's astonishment, Ryan can take his dick full length that way! Ricky sees the outline of his long erection in Ryan's throat! Ryan is not sucking; Ricky is fucking his mouth! His balls slap against Ryan's nose!

Ryan even reaches up and holds Ricky's hips, encouraging him to fuck harder! Every so often, he pushes Ricky back and draws in a breath through his nose.

Ryan's cock remains stiff while he performs this marvelous art. It dances in front of Ricky as he thrusts mightily into the older guy's throat.

It is not long before Ricky lets himself go with a fantastic orgasm. He pumps Ryan's belly full of of his ever copious semen.

When he kisses him, Ryan's mouth hardly tastes of come at all.

Ricky was impressed. "You gotta teach me that!"

"It helps to work up from smaller dicks."

"Don't worry! I'm sure there are plenty of little boys who will let me practice with them!"

"I didn't know you were a pedophile, Ricky!"

"Well now, Ryan," Ricky kidded back. "That's a very odd thing for you to say! Ha ha!"

After they swam back, they followed through with their general plan. Ryan went obsidian hunting, and Ricky made camp.

When Ryan returned with quite a few excellent specimens of very high grade obsidian, he saw that Ricky had made a fine nest, and Ricky, not easy to impress, was impressed. "Fuck! Where'd you find that? So fast! Shit! You know how hard I looked for that stuff?"

"Well, Ricky, you have your tricks, I have mine, huh?"

Ricky laughed. "But you'll show me? The signs? The things you look for?"

"Yep."

Ricky had built a fire pit and cooking area next to a large rock. He explained that it was designed so the fire would not be seen across the lake at night. He had the food all ready to cook. He had found a flat rock which would serve as a grill, for they had not brought one. He had rolled over some large stones for seats by the fire pit. Within the tent, pitched some distance from the fire, he had unzipped their sleeping bags and laid them one atop the other over the pads. It was a very nice camp indeed.

"I'm really hungry! Are you, Ryan?"

"Famished."

"Let's eat the deli sandwiches and the chips and drink our sodas before the ice melts. I'll bet you'll wanna play guitar, and you'll probably want to smoke some weed?"

"Yes to all that."

"I brought my harmonica."

"You didn't tell me you played."

"I haven't told you many of the wonderful things about me! I'd like to learn guitar. I really would. I play piano! I never told you that either. I'm a classics geek. I've just gotten into Chopin, and that was after a Mozart kick, who I find most cheering, but there's these Rachmaninov concertos that elude me. You have to have, like, ten-inch wide hands!"

"Impressive! But yeah, I'll show you some guitar stuff." Ryan was amused by Ricky's outflow. He revealed much in very few words sometimes.

"Cool," Ricky said, "and anytime you wanna get off, I'm your man, or bitch, if you prefer."

Ryan laughed. His Ricky was a sexual chameleon. He would not be surprised at all if Ricky completely enjoyed sex with a girl.

They had a blissful afternoon and evening. They played music together and ate a lot, for they had brought a lot of food. Ricky managed to stay in physical contact with Ryan constantly. Always there was some part of his body touching him, and Ricky did not even seem conscious of this.

Ryan tested his theory. He would move away. Ricky would get up, maybe to get another stick of wood for the fire from the huge pile he had gathered, and then when he sat down, he'd be against Ryan some way.

Ryan did not initiate sex. Ricky persistently offered, but Ryan forestalled him, and Ricky did not seem frustrated. He seemed to get the game and played along. Ryan just wanted to wait. He wanted to wait until dark, and he wanted to wait until they were together in bed. Ricky was willing to wait too, bless him.

Near dusk, Ryan finally had time to explore Ricky's theology.

Last semester, before grad school, to round out his upper division requirements, Ryan had taken a comparative religion class, and it had softened his attitude toward religion. Ryan considered himself an atheist, but he was not so sure there was not something more to life than atoms. Of one thing he was certain, the God of the Bible was a hoax.

When he suggested this to Ricky, he had said, to his astonishment, "Oh yes. That's true. But mixed in with the silly stories made up to scare people into being good there are beautiful truths."

"Like?"

"Like, 'Pay your workers at the end of the day, for they, unlike you, have nothing laid up in store,' or, 'Build your barn before your house, for the barn will earn you money, but the house will cost you money.'"

"But Ricky," Ryan said, "That is just folk wisdom."

"Yes. Exactly. Wisdom. That's what I'm saying. Why must you demean it with the word 'folk?' Wisdom is wisdom!"

Ryan was once again surprised by that ever rising up maturity of Ricky's. He had a very grownup debating style. Completely polite.

"And Jesus? Did Jesus die so that you may be redeemed?"

Ricky said, "What matters is how Jesus lived! Jesus lived so that we may see by his example that the way of the sword is the way of death, and the way of love is the way of life."

Ryan was impressed. The kid was unflappable.

"Was Jesus a man or a god?"

"Jesus was a great spirit who took our form to teach us. He did not actually die and then be reborn, because he didn't die, and the body is a shell animated by the spirit. No one ever really dies, Ryan, we just get new bodies. Jesus knew some magic tricks that he used to impress the crowd, but it is his message that matters. The story got twisted because his followers did not understand the science behind Jesus."

Ryan shook his head. "It sounds to me like you are a Buddhist, not a Christian, and you regard Jesus as a bodhisattva."

Ricky shrugged. "Maybe I'm a Zen Christian!"

Ryan laughed.

Ricky added, "My step-dad says the I am the Devil, for I believe that man is as great as god."

"Do you believe that?"

Ricky looked up at the stars. He said, "I believe we are all fallen angels, and we yearn to fly again. There are only angels, Ryan!"

"Well, I yearn to hold an angel in my arms."

"Me too! Let's shoot one down!"

"Oh, you are a devil!"

"I warned you! Will you teach me how to suck cock like you did me, earlier?"

"We can try."

Ricky was pleased to learn that deep throat was not that difficult!

It was hardly more than a trick, and anyone could do it. The 'trick,' Ryan said, was to form the back of your throat like you were yawning. This raised up he 'uvula' as Ryan described it, that little dangling thingy at the back of the mouth, and that prevented the gag reflex.

"Oh," Ricky exclaimed, as they snuggled together in their warm bed beneath the stars, "My cousin Jimmy and his mom, my aunt Mary? They have double, er, ovulas!"

"OOV-you-lahs," Ryan corrected.

"Uvulas, yeah, but theirs are doubles. They look like little nut sacks. And aunt Mary? She's an amazing singer! Jimmy too! You think there's a connection?"

"Hm. I don't know. Sounds like a mutation. I've never seen that. Really?"

"Yep. I've looked at 'em close! So the trick is you gotta get that thing to suck up like cold balls? And then you can deep throat?"

Ryan was a good explainer, and he was patient, "That and you must hold your breath."

"Oh, I gotta try this!"

They did not, at first, use the position that Ryan had used when Ricky mouth fucked him. Instead, Ryan sat nude on the smooth log near their fire. Ricky just loved to play with his thick cock. Ryan's balls, Ricky had noticed, never tended to swing very much. They were smaller than Ricky's. Ricky fondled them lovingly as he made the back of his throat rise, imagining he was yawning to get the effect. It took a couple of tries, but then, suddenly, he was able to get the tip past the gag point, an then, he could do it!

"I did it! I did it!" He cried excitedly.

After that first time Ricky succeeded at deep throating Ryan's fat cock, he wanted to do it again again, "For practice," he said, making Ryan laugh and laugh.

Ricky loved to make Ryan laugh. He knew he was "the kid." He knew Ryan was "the man." Ryan knew so much! He was so smart! And Ricky knew that Ryan deeply enjoyed Ricky's company. It was not just sex.

Sitting by the fire, drinking hot chocolate, he snuggled up next to Ryan. Ryan put an arm around him and kissed the top of his head. "You truly bring me joy, Ricky. You not only turn me on, you stimulate my mind."

"You respect me now, don't you, Ryan?"

"Yes."

"I was wondering, Ryan, uh, I have seen this thing that you college types do: you always seem to be so jealous about your knowledge. You use great big words, but it's just the same shit that immature children do, going, 'I know that. You don't have to tell me that. What makes you think you are so smart?' And then spouting off some bit of trivial knowledge that they think will serve to stop the other kid because he never heard of that!"

Ryan chuckled. "All I can say is that grad school teaches you to ridicule anything you cannot see. It is part of the indoctrination into academia. I even had a professor warn me about that. So thank you for helping me see 'outside the box!' They teach us to be professional 'arguers.' It is all a bit tiresome, you know?"

Ricky purred, "Oh, that was way better than an apology, man!"

He nuzzled his head into Ryan's neck. Obviously, he was extremely happy.

After a bit of quiet time, Ryan quietly spoke, "Leave it to a wild thing to understand wild things."

That night, Ricky was satiated by all the oral sex. He fell asleep by the fire snuggled up to Ryan. He only awoke because Ryan was trying to pick him up to carry them to the tent.

"You are densely muscled and strong boned, Ricky! I struggle to lift you!"

Barely awake, Ricky had no words. In silence he went to the tent and waited for Ryan to settle down. Then he fell asleep in his arms again. The man seemed to like this, and he liked being the boy.

In the morning, waking before Ryan, Ricky took his morning piss, brushed his teeth, and then slipped in behind Ryan, sleeping on his side with his legs drawn up.

"That's a funny way to wake a guy up!" Ryan complained as Ricky probed his ass with his hard cock. He had put a rubber on.

Ricky laughed. He had grabbed a mint — something he thought was very slick — and he popped it in Ryan's mouth as he stuck his cock in his ass. He said nothing. He just fucked him, making Ryan moan happily, "You stud. You fucking stud!"

After doing him that way for a while, Ricky pulled out and rolled Ryan onto his back to fuck him face to face, kissing him.

Ryan, however, complained, "Man! As hot as this is? I have to both urinate and defecate!"

Ricky pulled out, laughing, "And there I thought you were a 'Romantic!' You with all your big words!"

As Ryan went off to do his morning routine, digging a proper hole like Ricky had showen him, not too deep but not too shallow, Ricky made breakfast. They had no fish, sadly, but they did have bacon, eggs, and potatoes. Ricky stirred up the coals, got a little fire going, and was slicing potatoes when Ryan returned.

"Need any help?"

"Nah. I got this. You did wash your ass with water, right?"

"Yeah. I went to the shore and used the leaves you showed me."

"Good. Because these taters will take a while, and I want to finish fucking you."

"Good. I love the way you fuck me, Ricky. You are a fuck hot lover. Did I ever tell you that?"

"Yeah. But I am just a kid, you know. I need a lot of praise. You can say it over and over."

"I love the way you fuck me, Ricky. You are one red hot lover. You are more man than any hundred men I have known."

Ricky merely smiled at the compliment as he tossed the potatoes into the sizzling bacon grease. "I'm making my famous one skillet bacon, potatoes, and eggs! We have about a half an hour. I'm gonna fuck you good!"

"Yeah, baby boy. Fuck me good!"

Ricky fucked him good. Several times in several ways.

Sexually sated and fully fed, Ryan taught Ricky much more than just some great sex moves. He began to teach Ricky guitar. He showed him many rock hunting tips, and, throughout the day, he also added to his education about the gay scene. Joshua had his own ideas and theories, and Ryan had his. The two did not always agree. Joshua, Ricky was realizing, was a cynic. Ryan was was a realist. Ricky was gaining perspective. He enjoyed Ryan's wisdom and patience. It had taken some maneuvering and some scuffling, but Ryan, he knew, genuinely appreciated his love of life and energy while he, in turn, felt safe and peaceful with a wiser, older man. It was fair. They achieved a balance.

Driving back, on the rolling, straight road through the pines, Ricky brought the subject up.

"I got this buddy. He told me about some of the pick-up scenes, but is it true that you can go to public restrooms and have sex there?"

"Oh yeah. It used to be more common. That was before the plague."

"The 'plague?'"

"Yeah. AIDS. A lot of the old scenes died off. Guys got more careful. But it still goes on."

"Hunh. But bathhouses? That seems like it could be really fun!"

Ryan laughed. "There's one in Berkeley I go to. It used to be a black scene, but not so much any more. A lot of jocks go there. A lot of married, closeted men. Have you ever head of 'casual, anonymous sex?'"

"It seems self defining."

"Yeah. But there's rules. No names, usually, and no further contact, after."

"Ick. I don't like that idea."

"No. I would think not. A beauty like you, so intelligent and affectionate? You'll never have a problem scoring! But, well, anyway, there's ways around all that. You simply have to say so. You say, 'Hey, my name is Ricky. I think you are hot. What is your name?' And the dude may go, 'Huh! This guy is down for something more than just a mutual orgasm.'"

"Or? He may not?"

"Exactly. The mistake is to think that just because a guy blows you, he wants to meet your mother, you dig?"

"Yeah."

"I just see sweet boys like you get their heart broken over that shit, so don't get your heart broken. If you really want a connection, say so at the beginning."

"But that might blow guys off, huh?"

"Oh, it definitely will blow a lot of guys off."

"Well, fuck those guys!"

"That's the spirit, Ricky! You get it!"

It was an hour's drive along the highway, so they had time to keep talking. Also, since they were in no hurry, Ricky often diverted their path towards little drives to the side where he knew there were short trails with wonderful views. He loved the way Ryan, rather than fight him, then accepted that he knew every trail and every road! This really was his country! They kept up a constant patter. Ryan liked to talk!

Overlooking a tremendous waterfall at the end of a half-mile hike, Ricky had another question. He had kept referring to Joshua as "this buddy," or "this guy I know," or "a friend of mine," and Ryan, who had before been accepting this, finally asked, "So who is this guy you keep talking about, Ricky? He obviously exerts a powerful influence on you!"

Ricky was silent for a few seconds, then he asked, "Can I borrow your cell? I wanna text him and ask him if I can tell you about him. OK?"

"Sure." Ryan handed him his cell.

He texted Josh. "Ricky here. Borrowed phone. Ryan keeps asking about you. Can I tell him?"

Joshua immediately texted back, "you trust him"

"Totally."

"your call bro"

Then, after a few seconds, "and he has my number anyway you shit"

Ricky laughed. He told Ryan about Josh. None of the dark, secret stuff, but enough for Ryan to get that Josh knew his way around the gay scene way more than most kids.

Ricky asked about the bars. He told Ryan that Joshua said that these these were dominated by 'poofs.' "Is that true?"

"Well, the thing is, Ricky? I'm a 'poof,' you know? Kind of fem? A bottom?"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. So I must admit, that gay bars are the best pick-up scene, but the thing is, a stud-muffin like you? Shit. If you walked into a gay bar, you'd better have a stick to beat off the guys! You are pretty much every gay's fantasy come true: gorgeous, masculine, sweet, and a top! Perfect! Gays like me outnumber gays like you by like, I don't know, a hundred to one."

"Really?"

"Yes, my little hard bodied dream, really!"

"You really can give nice compliments, Ryan!"

"And added to that, this innocent humility? Which only shows this supreme confidence? Shit. You are the Lion King, little brother. You slay me. I'm lucky. I'm lucky I met you!"

Ricky smiled. "I think I'm the lucky one, Ryan."

"Which only proves my point."

Walking back to the car, Ricky observed, "I don't think I'd like a scene where I could just snap my fingers. I'd rather have a challenge! I think I will avoid the 'poof' scene!"

Ryan shook his head, "Well, I hope you don't get into straight guys, then. I could see you going that way. That's a jock scene. Don't say I didn't warn you, but, Ricky? Don't be cruel. Most guys are not these divinely beautiful guys like you who can get whoever they want. Have some compassion! I mean, really, if the only way you can get it is to pay for it, wouldn't you pay for it?"

Ricky thought about that. He doubted that, but to please Ryan, he said, "Yeah, I can see that."

He did get that being judgmental was not cool. And Ricky wanted to be cool. He did not want to be judgmental.

Ryan told him about another scene. He called them the "A-Gays." These were guys who had money. Lots of it. They were professionals. Doctors, lawyers, architects, investment bankers, real-estate developers, etc. They considered themselves the elite among gays, and a boy like Ricky, himself from a "good" family, would be a prime target for them. Ryan said he needed to watch out. They might say they were "helping," but really, that wanted the status of having a hot young stud to show off

Ricky wondered about that, "But that's not so bad, is it? What's wrong with showing off that you can keep a beautiful boy with you? I mean, I'm thinking, when I'm old, ick, who wants to fuck an old man? I'd rather go straight then!"

Ryan laughed.

Ricky continued, "But why not let him pay for college or buy you a car? Why not? It seems like a mutually beneficial arrangement!"

Ryan laughed and sighed at the same time. He had said, "But what about love, Ricky? You think that old guy is not gonna go postal if you find someone your own age to love? See, they will seek to exert covert control of you and undermine your independence."

"Hngh," Ricky grunted, "Sounds like you are speaking from experience, Ryan."

"I am."

Ryan would say no more about it. Ricky kept remembering Joshua's words, "A healthy relationship with a peer."

This prompted Ricky to say, "Well, what about us, Ryan? I mean, you are so old, and I'm just a kid to you! You think I don't see it, but I do!"

Ryan had sighed. "That's a sore topic, Ricky. But let me ask you this: have I hurt you? In any way?"

"No. You have helped me. A lot. And sex with you is fucking hot!"

"Well, good. So it's not like you're fucking an old man for the goodies he gives you."

"No. Except you really know things! I like that. I learn things! And I make you crazy hot, don't I?"

"Yep, and you do know things too, Ricky Boy. You have earned my deepest respect."

"So it's mutual," Ricky agreed. "It's consenting. I don't agree with the secrecy. I hate it. But I won't see you harmed."

"Yes."

Ryan told him that a friend of his who had had an affair with a young guy had said, "It's maybe a one time thing. There will be a young boy who comes into your life, and you have a chance to mentor him. It can be beautiful."

Ryan had not believed it. He had called the guy a "pedophile." But Ricky taught him that it was true. It happened. It was not always bad. It could be a good thing.

Ricky did get Ryan to actually play top, but only once. But it meant a lot. It meant, to Ricky, that he was the exception, not the rule.

They did it on Ryan's last night. It was on the beach, at the swimming hole, around two in the morning. They had returned from one of their several rock hounding trips to the north of the volcano. They had been playing guitar. They were both pretty stoned.

While Ryan was strumming his guitar, singing one of those amazing songs he knew from the black bluesmen in the nineteen-thirties, Ricky reached across to fondle his bulge. This led naturally to a blow job, and that led naturally to their shorts off, and that led naturally to Ricky straddling him, and that led naturally to Ryan's thick cock up Ricky's tight ass. It just happened. It happened just like that.

Ryan was so excited, he forgot to complain about the fact that they were barebacking.

Ricky was pleased to rock his world that way, but Ryan did have the presence of mind to push Ricky off before he came, and they came together, kissing, and jacking off on each other.

It was beguiling sex. They pleased each other perfectly that night.

Ryan taught him a new phrase. "Even when you get fucked, you still are the top. We call that 'topping from the bottom.'"

"A power bottom?"

"No. I'm a power bottom."

"I don't get it."

"You will, My Dear. You will."

Ryan would say no more, and Ricky did not pursue it. Still not satiated, he fucked Ryan after that, but they went to his gazebo, and that time, Ryan stayed the night. Ricky fucked the shit out of him, again, pounding him hard, really, actually, being kind of mean to Ryan! Bossing him, tossing him around, totally dominating him! He fucked him and fucked him in every position he could throw him. He had Ryan reduced to a gibbering, whining, moaning fuck toy! Finally, he made Ryan come with a cock in his ass. It made Ricky feel studly and powerful.

Something deep in Ricky's soul was satisfied by that, and truly, in a hidden place, he knew Ryan was just playing a role for him. That too only satisfied him more. He finally got his rocks off in a way that he had been jacking off to since he had started jacking off.

Laying there, sweaty and stinking of sex with a man in his arms, Ricky felt completed. He had made the grade. He had braved a new world and conquered it.

Then, philosophical, he considered that Ryan, in Ricky's opinion, smoked way to much weed. There was an unfulfilled desire to the man. There was, he had noticed, a certain sadness to him. He had noticed that slow, languorous style even in the dark, from a distance, before he knew him, and it appeared again and again. Ryan would seem to drift off, and Ricky would have to catch his attention and snap him out of it. He guessed the weed helped Ryan with that.

The next morning, Ryan left. It had only been a few days. A long weekend was all it was.

Ricky found the guitar in his gazebo with a nice note written in an attractive script, half-cursive, half-printed. It was a unique style. Original, like Ryan himself. Ryan thanked him for sharing himself. He told him he was a great gift, and he would never forget him. Ryan left all his contact information as well. He said he expected Ricky to stay in touch.

The gift helped soothe Ricky's sadness. It was a beautiful, nicely worn out, guitar. Ryan said it was made in the sixties. It said, "CF Martin & Co. Est. 1833," on the head. When Ricky showed it to his Uncle Dan, he was told it was quite valuable.

Fortunately, Ricky's mom never asked once if he and Ryan were having an affair. She knew, and Ricky knew she knew.

But Ricky guessed she also knew that if she asked, Ricky would lie, not because he wanted to but because he would have to. So she spared him that suffering. He was occasionally at odds with his mother, but that was because he was the old soul, and she was, in the spirit world, a little sister who had received him into her inadequate care. That was how she described it. But Ricky loved his sisters, and like a good sister, she could keep a secret.

He wished he could tell her everything. He wished he could cry on her shoulder about the passion, the love, and the ferocity he felt. But she was a child, his mother, and he could not burden her. She had troubles too many of her own.

He would have to keep it to himself. He would have to let time heal it all.

This time, Time, the Great Deceiver, ever the mindfucker, toyed with our hero. He did not make Ricky wait long for his next liaison. In fact, a lovely boy had been watching him, waiting, and looking for the right time to swoop in.

Questions? Comments? Critiques? Don't be shy. Let me know. All feedback is useful. Your letters have been helpful and encouraging. Heck, I'll even write you back. I like to do that.

Cheers, Dorian
(dorianswift@tutanota.com)

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