The Graveyard 1/3
by davistrell@aol.com
It was a dark and stormy night. Nah, that's bull--it was dark fer sure, but it was calm, the moon hung on the nightsky like a milky benevolent globe. It was the cemetery that was spooky.
"What we doin' here?"
My friend Marc smiled. His teeth shone, eerie in the moonlight.
"You know."
"But here?" It was a fucking graveyard fer chrissakes.
"Why not?"
"Oh, jesus shit me for a cucumber..."
We was seventeen. It was halloween, and I hadn't expected it would go this far.
"We have to get over this gate, gimme a leg up."
I laced my fingers together, Marc put his foot in them, and I raised him up to the wall, he sorta squirmed on the top and held down his arm and yanked me up. We sat on the wall.We looked out into the graveyard, quiet, silent, ghostly eerie...
"Three generations of Beales in there. In the earth. Worm food."
"Cut it out, Marc," I said.
"You wanted to do it, did'nt you?"
"Yeh, but not here."
"Chickenshit."
Marc was my friend. And we had hormones together. You couldn't call him handsome; his head and nose were too big, bright eyes with glossy dark brown hair, and a grin, that made my thighs grind together. I was new in town, the other guys determined to be strangers, but Marc had said hello, talked to me, showed me around Napa, and took away a lot of those lonesome feelings. I'd gone to his house, met his dad, and went upstairs to his room to listen to his CD's. He made sure the door was closed and went under the pine bed-flat and pulled out a magazine. He sat close, next to me, and leafed through the pages. It was intimate, him sharing the big secret with me.
"Didya know they did that?" he asked.
I didn't know what to say.
"Look at that guy's meat."
I still didn't know what to say, but I looked, fascinated.
"I'd love to suck one of those cocks..."
"Jeez, they're big..."
"I'm burstin' in my pants, man, I get so hard.."
I touched it, through the denim, I felt it, it was hard, that's fer sure. I wanted to put my hand down his pants, when we heard his father bang on the ceiling with a broom handle, bang, bang, banging.
"Turn that fucking music down!"
Marc, leaned over, put his hand to my groin, felt my boner, and gave me a hug, that wasn't a bit like Granny Armitage.
"Take the 'zine," Marc said, as he ushered me out, I folded it, stuck it in my pants, covered it with my T-shirt, and hoped the bulge didn't show as I said goodnight to his dad. Days later, he called the house, and arranged a meet.
"You see the moon?"
Too fucking big you couldn't miss it. Everywhere was blue, black, dark. You could barely make out the pathway to the mausoleum on top of the low hill. The trees were bare, black silhouettes scratching in the cloudy skies like fingers of the undead.
"C'mon," said Marc as he jumped down, landing softly on the grassy earth beneath. He caught me, and held my hand as we walked up the path, between the sleeping gravestones. Some were overgrown but the occasional stone had a fresh flower arrangement. I tried to make out a name.
"...dearly beloved, james, rest in peace..."
The moon crystal clear through the clouds, made all visible, but everywhere was full of somber shadows.
"C'mon," said Marc as he dragged me up the gravel path.
I'd taken the magazine home, hid it carefully, from the prying eyes of my Mom, but took it out, late when the house was asleep, and leafed through the pages, in bed with the flashlight. Not much of a story, none too many words. But men, two men. Older than me and Marc and looked like they worked out. Naked. One held the other's cock, and as I flipped a page, watched intently as he put a big tongue out and licked the other's huge prick, then the one, took it in his mouth, and you could see the harsh sucking as his cheeks pinched in, an almighty sucking. Tanned, you could see the paleness where the sun didn't shine, and the fingers gripping as he held the other's butt, pulling his head close. My mind conjured up the slurping sounds.
I kept one hand on the page, tracing the outlines of the two meaty men, and gripped my own dick tight, and turned the page. The guys lay together sucking each others cocks. The one nearest the camera had his butt showing, and I could see the pinkness of his shithole. I turned to the next page, and had to close it quick. No. I don't believe it.
Guys don't do that. Oh please God, Guys don't do that. Oh God, please do it to me.
The Graveyard 2/3
by davistrell@aol.com
All was quiet, nary a sound apart from a whisper of the breeze and our own hard breathing. Marc seemed to know where he was going as he led me off the pathway, in between the half-buried stones, that got thicker, closer together, and taller. Angels carved in grey marble, weeping over the remains of lost dear ones. Till we came to one, a block, a stone table, with an inscription, weeds, covering the base and a corner chipped off.
"Here. We'll do it here."
Marc took off his jacket, folded it, placed it on the table top.
"You can sit on it, don't want you to freeze your nuts off."
As I sat back he leaned forward, and nuzzled my chin like a frisky colt, and his hands went to my belt. He undid the buckle as easily as if he was unbuckling his own. The button fly popped open, and his hand went in and felt the hidden warness in there.
I wished I wasn't wearing my stupid Spiderman underwear, but as Marc slipped them off, his hand cradled my cock, his hand big enough to cradled my balls and penis and gave a warming shake. I grew, in his hand, and tried to cup his balls,thrusting my hand between his legs feeling him, feeling his excitement, pulling open buttons, fumbling through cotton till I felt his flesh, my thumb hooked around, my fingers wrapped round, the palm of my hand cushioning his cockhead, that felt slightly damp. He ground his hips.
"Oh, man..."
I lay back on the stone table top, so I couldn't see. I wanted to feel it instead. My penis in another's mouth. A rabbit caught in a snare, struggling to be free, but scared to run away. Marc had me completely in his mouth, sucking and spittling away. I turned my head back, I saw a bat fly out of the old dark oaktree, and heard an owl hooting from a gnarled bough. I was shivering, not from cold, but from the feelings that were being released in me, as Marc worked on me.
He let my cock slip from his lips, and leaned over.
"You ok, Jason..."
"Don't stop," I said, as I propped myself up, while the saliva on my dick got cold in the night air, cold sweat and cold saliva.
"Show you something better..." said Marc, "...your bunghole..."
"Oh, no..."
He put his thumbs between the crease of my ass, and felt my cheeks being pulled apart, and felt his wet tongue on my pucker. I grabbed my cock, to keep it warm and began to jerk off, as I felt his tongue lick. He folded it into a point and tried to push it in my asshole, and I tried to force my ass to open to let him come in.
"You ain't ready, Jason, I'm gonna have to use my finger..."
He stood up a bit, and took over, his hands gripping my excited cock, he fondled, my testicles, fondling them like they was precious gems, let a finger slide down my ass-crease, and pushed a finger on the entrance of my anus.
"This might hurt, grit your teeth..."
It did, but a hurt, that made me wanted him to continue....
"What are you doing!!" barked a voice from somewhere behind us, from somewhere in the black shadows.
We jumped. Jumped up and I did a fantastic scrabble for my pants, pulling them up.
From out the gloom, lurched a dark tall looming figure. I grabbed hold of Marc, and held him close. The man continued to come closer. We were like deer frozen in highbeams.
"Oh, Jesus shit..."
"Er, we wasn't doin nothin' mister..." said Marc, who didn't seem to be scared; but he must've been.
"S'okay, Jason, he's probably only the custodian or whatever they call those guys..." he whispered to me.
"This graveyard is private property...and you are trespassing..."
We saw him come forward. He was tall, and a big man. A moonbeam struck his face, showed his goatee beard and his dark frowning brow and cat's eyes, an orange glow. Dressed in black. He didn't look like a caretaker or janitor, or a grave digger. A graverobber, maybe. I held onto Marc hard, as if the two of us was one.
"Just foolin' around mister, we didn't mean any harm..."
"You call desecrating a tomb, just fooling around?"
"Look, we'll take off, we'll be gone as soon as you know it..."
He loomed closer. Till he stood right against us.
"What were you doing..."
He must've seen us; I knew he knew.
"Just 'xperimenting, mister..." I said, timorously.
He laughed a booming laugh.
"Experimenting? That's what you call it?"
Oh, jeez, he did see us. And he looked down and saw my dick still out, and saw Marc's hanging out too. He musta been playing with himself while he was doing me.
He laughed again. A booming laugh that seemed to rock the earth.
He looked at us, we wilting beneath his glare.
And then he opened his pants, and pulled out a huge cock. I never seen the like. God, it was enormous.
"Get down on your knees, boys. We will, what did you say, continue to 'experiment'."
He grabbed Marc by the scruff of his neck almost, and pushed Marc's face only an atom's length away from his large veined cock.
Marc looked up at the big man, looked up directly into his face.
"My pleasure, mister..."
The big man laughed again.
"Be my guest...."
I inched away, but the big man grabbed me by the collar.
"My, but you're a timid one..."
The Graveyard 3/3
by davistrell@aol.com
And Marc went down, opened his mouth big and wide, the huge penis bulb-end slid in, and his lips slowly slipped down on the man's fat cock. Marc buried his face and all I could see was the back of his head, watch his head almost dissappear in the man's wide crotch. Marc started to move his head and reminded me of that halloween game, bobbing for apples.I could hear the sucking sounds of mouth on sliding up and down on cock. And the the big man turned to face me, his face cracking into a wide smile with way too many teeth.
He grabbed me, and pulled me into him, and unbuttoned his shirt in the center, and a button above, and crushed my face into his large hairy chest. My mouth found a nipple, and I tongued it gingerly, and tasted his fur, and his skin, and his well-formed pectorals muscles, and smelt the smell of heady man-aroma. It was delicious.
I wrapped my legs around one of his massive thighs, and started to puppy-hump his huge log of a leg. I could hear Marc, slurping, with pauses as he had to take air, then would go back and take more of the giant's cock each time, and would make gagging sounds, take a breath of air and then go back to business again.
The big man laughed that big laugh of his. It sent a shiver down my spine, but this time not because of fear.
I sorta straddled his legs, my ankles wrapped behind me and climbed up, and nuzzled the big man's ear, I made a tiny bite on his fleshy ear-lobe, licked the cartilage, in his ear, and finally whispered.
"Fuck me, mister....please...."
I surprised myself. The big man released Marc, and took off his big coat, and made a mattress of it on the stone tomb. I bent over, my belly on his coat, and grabbed the waist belt of my jeans, pulled them down and let my butt stick out.
"He's not ready. Mister!" said Marc, pulling on the big man's arm. "He's a virgin, he's had his cock sucked for the first time tonight..."
"Shut up, Marc," I said, and got into the position I'd seen in the dirty magazine Marc had loaned me.
"Well, if the boy insists..."
And I heard him spit a huge gob of spittle into his big palm and felt him slap it against my butt, and felt a huge finger penetrate me; I wanted to scream, but I don't know if it was from pain or pleasure. He worked that fat finger inside me like he was churning butter, as he drove deeper and deeper inside me.
Marc came round, to my end, and put his hands on my face, moved in close, and gave me a comforting kiss.
"You alright, li'l brother?"
I whimpered I was okay. And sighed as I felt the huge finger leaving. There seemed to be a vacuum inside me, I was feeling so empty. But not for long as I felt the huge velvet knob pressed against my twitching ass-hole.
It pressed against, trying to enter but my poor hole must be too small. I gritted my face trying to strain those muscles, and then I felt it go in, and I jerked up, tears welling in my eyes. Marc was sitting sorta crossed legged in front of me and through the tears I could see his dick get hard, and I clamped my mouth on it. It was the only thing I could thing to do cause I didn't want to yell, as I felt the big man behind thrust into me, that huge thing, halfway in, then all in. I sucked on Marc, who had started to kneel in front of me, and he ground his hips back and forth, using my mouth like the big man was using my butt.
The sounds in the night of creatures, bats, mice, owls, crows, spiders, beetles, earthworms, all fell silent. All you could hear was the slap slapping of the man's balls bouncing on my backside as he ram, rammed me, and the sounds of exerted breathing, and sweat breaking on my brow, and Marc's irregular breathing, and the friction of my lips on Marc's bobbing, burning hardon. Suddenly the big man stopped, his buried bone, in my ass, and like the advance warning the sound made, just before an avalanche of water, floods a storm-drain, knew he was going to come, spewing his torrent into my guts. He continued to fuck me as his deluge of stickiness spurted as he shot his load, in sperm coming in waves until he pulled out of me and I flopped down collapsing like a balloon that has had the air let out, and I came in the big man's coat, that congealed in a puddle soaking my pubic hair, wetting my belly trickled down into the hollows of my thighs. Marc's dick came too, and shot off right in my face and my tears became mingled with his milky white ejaculation. I was soaked in sweat, saliva and cum.
I'd never felt so fulfilled and happy.
The big man stood up, folded his fat cock back into his pants. covered my bottom either side of the flaps of his black coat, so I wouldn't be cold, even though inside I as burning still with fire. I pulled up my jeans, and the material, comforted my aching ass cheeks; in the morning I better to look in the mirror, check out the bruises, which I hoped would me there, my medals of honor.
Marc, dressed, too, and looked kind of sheepish and embarrassed, as the big man retrieved his coat and put it, on pulling his big arms and shoulders into the sleeves.
I went to Marc and gave him a big hug. We both looked down on the tomb, that had been my bed of initiation, and looked back up at the big man.
"What's your name?"
"It's there, chiselled into the stone...."
Huh? We read. "...John Raven, loved of Anthony, died...."
We turned. He was gone.
A creepy unearthly voice filled our ears.
"...Of AIDS, boys. Be always careful, and use condoms with strangers, or we'll meet again, before your time...on the other side..."
Then we heard that huge laugh again echoing against the gravestones, and we ran out of there like bats outta hell....