Trains (c) Richard Ramirez rarqrxx@gmail.com You can use this story only for non-profit purposes, provided you don't take credit for it. Write to me if you like it, or even if you don't like it.
Trains
I was 14, almost 15 that summer and my body was blooming. If we had had internet at the time I would have been one of those guys who gets naked in front of a cam and shows of his body, beats off and posts it.
We didn't have TV either. We weren't poor but logging was in a slump and the whole community was having a hard time. My Dad now had work as a firefighter. Kept real busy and was away a lot. Mr. Wong at the General store had a satellite and let people watch the World Series and things like that, the Super Bowl. He sold a lot of drinks and snacks that he said it paid for the TV service. But no internet.
Toward the end of the 8th grade, last school year I started to notice that my body was beginning to develop. My dick had been the first to grow, to a 6 1/2 inches hard on, straight and not too thick, the thin skin on the dark head easily sliding in my fist.
I was getting muscles and losing fat. My legs had always been good and I always had a nice round ass, but my upper body was looking really good now. I'd get naked in front of the full length mirror on the inside of the bathroom door to admire it, getting a hardon looking at every inch of myself, my well developed legs getting longer as I grew, my abs getting a leaner, more defined six pack with a deep line running up the middle of my flexed abs.
I was up to 200 sit-ups and 100 pushups a day and getting stronger. My triceps hung like tear drops and my biceps were round and hard. My upper back was now flat under a good upper back and broadening shoulders. My still kind of thin chest showed good sharp definition of my pecs. My lats were getting definition, flaring to a narrow waist. I was hot and turned myself on, beating off in front of that mirror whenever I could, whenever my 2 older sisters and Mom weren't home. Sometimes I would get so turned on that my skin would tingle, the energy dancing on my skin.
Sometimes it would tingle even when I wasn't beating off. I would feel it under my loose clothes. It felt good. I liked it.
Our health teacher in the 8th grade told us not to lift weights, but to develop our bodies naturally. I wanted to melt all the baby fat off me and he said running was the best exercise. So I began to cross country run when the snow began to melt, first at school and from home when school let out.
I had a running circuit, down the dirt road to town, past the railroad yard, up the grade to the road overpass and back to my house, about 10 miles. Sometimes I did it twice, but not too often. It was getting hotter even in the June early morning.
I liked to run without a shirt and feel the cool breeze on my sweating hairless chest especially when I got up to the crests of hills or ridges. I was getting a nice tan too.
One day I was running past the railroad tracks, past a trailer that railroad people stayed in sometimes and saw a kid that looked about my age trying to straighten out the railroad ties under the trailer. He was having a hard time so I stopped and asked if he would like some help.
He looked at me, up and down my body, and smiled and said "sure."
I liked being looked at, and smiled back.
One of the ties was rotting, and his dad had told him to see if he could replace it. The trailer was up on a couple of car jacks, but it was harder that it looked. We had to dig out the old tie and drag a new one underneath the trailer, but it settled crooked so we had to raise the trailer again, digging out some dirt. It finally took three ties, two on the bottom and one on top before we had it secure and level.
We talked during water breaks, planning our next move, drinking from water bottles he got from inside, with the "where you from," "how old are you" questions (he just turned 15). I look into his eyes once, his beautiful deep blue eyes and had to turn away to keep from staring. For a long time I couldn't look him in the face just because I didn't want to stare in his eyes.
He wasn't ugly or anything. In fact he had a kind of pretty face, like a girl. He talked a little like a girl too.
He kept his old torn t-shirt on, and kept looking at my body. I liked it and it made me hard for some reason. When we were done and rested, I told him I was going to finish my run.
He stood in front of me and smiling looked me up and down, and said,
"You got a good body." It was unexpected but I shined it on.
I said thanks, and reached out to shake his hand. "My name's Bradley."
"I'm Ed," he said. "I've seen you run by a couple of times. You run every day?"
We began to run together. I would pick him up running by his house. At first he only made it to the rail overpass, but in a few days he kept up. It was downhill after that so we would run by my house and I'd run him back to the trailer and go another round. After a week or so it got to be routine. But he always kept his t-shirt on. He had a cell phone and took selfies with me a few times, but always with his t- shirt on. He said his Dad's work computer had a card that let him plug into wireless and make hotspots. He was the only person I knew that had internet and a cell phone. But all he could do was take a lot of pictures with it, a lot of me, and selfies with me and him.
We got to be tight. I could usually find him in a stand of trees above a sloping meadow in front of the general store, reading. He attracted squirrels and they would come by to chatter at him, but not angry, like they liked him. He read these thick books. I would ask him what they were about and he would tell me the story. I liked Oliver Twist and he even read some parts to me as I lay on the forest grass listening and the squirrels chattering in the trees like they were telling a story too.
He would come over sometimes, at first, to help me with chores. I was painting the eaves of our house so they wouldn't rot. He helped me move the ladder and would sing, "I see London, I see France," and shit like that, and laugh to himself. But he got this oil based paint all over him trying to paint and didn't come around much after that, at least not while I was painting.
I started to show Ed new trails to run. It was fun running with him. He liked to talk, panting, chattering like the squirrels as we ran so I got to know a lot about him, most of which ended up not true. At first I could tell he was chubby, kind of fat really, under his sweaty t-shirt, a spare tire, a belly, round mounds for tits and pointy nipples. But the running was getting rid of some fat already. He had a not too large round ass and good thick legs, a little thick on the thighs but ok. But he never got tired of looking at my body and didn't seem to mind me noticing or getting off on him looking at me.
I was getting taller fast, and it stretched my thin frame, giving me a lot of definition. I liked to feel my body, my hand on my tight abs even when I didn't flex them, feeling the tight ridges of muscle, pinching my nipples. I liked getting hard with myself. I liked the feel of my skin, my straight hard dick in my hand, the iron hardness under the soft skin sliding easily, exposing the head, the drops of slime collecting on the slit as I stroked my dick. It tasted good.
I was beating off almost every day, mostly in the old outhouse in back, trying different grips but always settling on one when I was coming, my full hand around the hard shaft, dick in my fist, catching the full dickhead on each stroke with my thumb, coming and shooting straight out and across, checking out how far it would hit outside the outhouse door.
I could beat off with two hands on it now, stroking up and down, but barely sliding the foreskin off the head. I fisted it tight and stroked slow. It felt good in one hand. Sometimes when I was really into it, coming took my breath away.
I knew all along that I wasn't supposed to do shit like this or get off on my own dick, but it felt too good. I couldn't have stopped even if I had wanted to.
My mom thought I used the outhouse because the girls monopolized the bathroom. I was happy they did. I liked to stand and feel of the late afternoon cool breeze on my body, my cut offs around my ankles, smelling the pine, my skin tingling as I felt my body, my ass pinching my nipples soft, slowly stroking, letting go when I felt it coming to make it last longer, stroking slowly, holding it tight until I came, enjoying every moment of it, every tingle and feel.
I got to like my come too, salty on my tongue.
One morning we ran past the old quarry on the high trail. Some guys were skinny dipping and I noticed a couple from my class. The old quarry was reserved for high school boys. They got really mean if you tried to swim during the week so I didn't think about swimming there. But it made sense, my classmates there, 'cause we were now in high school (more or less). The high schoolers didn't seem to mind them being there, so I asked Ed if he wanted to go swimming there later. He had told me he was a sophomore next school year.
Ed asked if they always swam naked and I laughed and said "sure!"
He said maybe, but when I past the trailer later, on my way to the quarry he said "nah," that he had some chores to do.
It was a good thing too. There were two flat stone ledges one about 20 feet above the water, another at water level. When I got there my classmates were on the bottom ledge and the high schoolers, mostly jocks, on the upper ledge. One guy, a basketball star, saw me the called me up to the high ledge.
My classmates looked away, like they knew something was up, but I had to.
When I got to the high ledge they started to harass me, calling me names, pushing me around. One guy pulled my shorts down and pushed me off the ledge. I fell to the water flat on my back. The cold mountain water took my breath away. I wasn't a strong swimmer to begin with and with my shorts around my ankles and my shoes, I barely recovered and tried to paddle to the lower ledge. Charlie, one of my classmates jumped in and swam up to me, and told me to hang on to his shoulders.
As Charlie dog-paddled me back I saw the guys on the ledge look up. I turned my head and looked up too. A couple of the high schoolers were diving down to the water after me, one with a big hard on. He was really nice looking naked, the basketball jock, tall and slender showing a good sized uncut boner swan dive. He was beautiful. He wanted us to see it.
I pulled up my shorts so they wouldn't see my boner. I started up the trail. They called after me, but I just flipped them a finger without turning around, and kept on walking. That was my initiation to the swimming at the quarry - and the beginning of my doubts.
Maybe I was gay. I beat off and came more than once thinking about that long slender basketballer and his stiff cock flap against his belly as he dove down from above. I still have that image clear in my head to this day.
I saw Charlie at the General Store later that week and he said that it would be ok after that, that they were always looking for ways to fuck us up but that most times they left us alone. One of them, a foot ball star, the one who pushed me off the ledge, got mean, but nothing real physical, just calling names down, picking a victim or two to yell at, but no real rough stuff.
He said that a couple of them were really good divers.
"I know," I said.
I didn't do much swimming after that though, not during the week anyway. On weekend, families picnicked around there and lots of people went swimming with bathing suits on. Ed and I went a couple of times, but he kept his t-shirt on. I was really getting curious about that. On weekends lots of people, especially older men and women with really fat, big bellies dove and swam around, or just lazed tanning on a raft, or on the ledge drinking beer while their kids snorkeled and swam, splashing around on inner tubes, making noise and laughing. I always had a good time.
My Dad knew what was going on with me, I think. It seemed like knew just by looking at me that I was getting off on my own body. He told me I was growing up good and healthy like he had.
"But," he said, "don't get too taken up with yourself."
He's tall and has a strong muscular build, very little fat, large broad shoulders, a deep chest and really strong back. His work kept him lean I guess. I kind of know what I will look like when I get older and taller.
On the 4th of July people would go to the meadow and barbeque. I went and got into volleyball. The basketballer and I played two-man for all takers and we won them all. He said he was sorry that his friend got rough, and that he had jumped in to help Charlie get me to shore. He seemed sincere.
I got so into volley ball that I didn't even see Ed there. I guess he and his Dad spoke to my Mom, who told me later, and said he was a nice, polite boy. When the younger kids and the girls took over the net they were gone.
During a break the basketballer said, "You've got a nice body."
I said, "You do too."
Feeling his chest he said, "it looks a lot like mine" and we both kind of laughed. I couldn't help but think about his stiff, dark, uncut dick flap against his white stomach when he dove, and turned away.
One day about a week into August, Ed told me that his dad was going to be away that night and if I wanted to sleep over. My Mom thought it would be all right. So he had dinner at my house and then walked to his trailer in the still bright late afternoon summer daylight. I had my running backpack on, with my running clothes and shoes, and a couple of plastic bottles I filled from the stream for on my runs. I wore my Dad's flip flops. I asked and he said it was ok for me use his flip flops when he wasn't home.
On the way to the trailer Ed said my Mom was a really nice lady. She'd given his some of meatloaf and he said his Dad would really like it, that he'd make some mashed potatoes and gravy for him just the way he liked it. He didn't mention my sisters.
We put our stuff away sat outside under the awning playing cards; He kept losing, and with bright smiling eyes suggested we play strip poker. I don't know...
But we both stood up anyway and went inside the trailer. He pulled the curtains and we sat on this dumpy built-in sofa, part of which that turned into Ed's bed. I was surprised at how clean the place was.
He dealt the cards between us. He kept winning and still had his t- shirt and shorts on while I was down to my underwear. I was wearing briefs 'cause my jock was in the laundry. But we both weren't wearing much to begin with. It was only the third hand.
He was smiling, looking at my body and said, "I really like your body. It's hot." He'd said that since the day I met him so I shined it on.
I lay back on the sofa and kind of stretched out and let him get a good look. I felt, the way he was looking at me that he wanted to feel it, to run his hands on it or something like that. I could feel his look. Maybe even to rub himself against it. He did that a lot. I was getting all hot and bothered thinking of things Ed might want to do. My dick stirred. I felt it getting heavy.
I felt my chest, running my palm across my pecs and nipples.
"You can touch it if you want" I told him.
He felt my chest and asked me to stand up. I got up and he took my hand and guided me between his legs, He sat up and felt my chest. My dick got real hard.
I looked down at him, my stiff dick against my hip inside my jockeys; I put my hands behind my head and leaned back. My whole package grazed his chest but he didn't seem to mind. He looked up at me as he gently pinched my nipples, his deep blue eyes looking up at me wanting something even more. I stared back into them for the first time, really holding my gaze and pressed my hardening dick against his chest.
I was just messing around and kind of expected him to push me away but he didn't.
He asked me to turn around and I felt his hands on my waist, his face pressed against my ass. I knew we shouldn't be doing this. He asked if he could lower my underwear. I was going to say no but he did it anyway.
He licked my ass cheeks and I felt his face, his nose and tongue in my crack. His hands ran up my waist to my shoulder blades. This was going to far too fast and I thought we should stop.
His hand reached around and felt my hard dick, now sticking straight out from my body, first feeling the uncut head, gripping it and stroking it from behind with his fingers and thumb, then his full hand. His mouth still pressed against my ass crack. His fisted my hard dick and then ran his hand down the stiff hard shaft to feel my balls, pulling gently on my balls and ball sack.
I sat back down and he stood between my legs. Without saying a word I pulled down his underwear and saw his dick pop up and flap against his stomach. His hard on was pointing up, curving up against his belly where his belly rounded down between his hip bones, to a small patch of pubes, His dickhead hid under his t-shirt. I lifted it up and got a good look - it was a good six inches, thicker at the base. I pulled it down with the tip of my forefinger to see if he was cut and pointed it straight to my face.
It was the first time I ever touched someone else's dick or been that close to one for that matter. But he had touched my dick first so I guessed it was ok. He didn't even flinch and I didn't either. He was circumcised, a tapered kind of pointy head, but still broad, a full hard dick curving up against his belly. I gripped it like he had done me, and it felt a little thicker than mine, but mine felt longer. It was weird not having a foreskin. The head was bare all the time. The skin barely got up to under the head.
I ran my hands up under his t-shirt. He had a strong body, big, not half as lean as mine. I ran my hand up his side and felt his pecs, round, a handful, and big pointy nipples. I pinched his nipples and ran my hands on either side of his strong thick lower back forming a deep ridge, the valley of his spine. His thick sides flared down to a waist. And I felt his big round ass. We were both real quiet.
As I ran my hands along his body he said, "I have girl's tits,"
I knew now why he never took his t-shirt off. I had noticed the mounds of pec and the pointy nipples poking out under his t-shirt when we ran and he got sweaty. He pulled his t-shirt over his head. His tits weren't that big. A few of the guys had girls' tits, some bigger. I'd seen them swimming or just playing ball, skins and shirts. His nipples were little bit bigger than a red-brown bumpy quarter. His nipples weren't flat against his chest. There was a little round rise lifting under the dark rusty red nipple. The little points stood up out from the center like pointy little tents.
I pinched them both rubbing my thumb on them and he went "oooh."
I looked up at him: "They're not that big," I said.
I led him into the small trailer bathroom and we stood in front of the mirror.
"See," I said.
"Wow" he said. They're not as big as I thought." He felt them as he said, "I mean they used to be a lot bigger. I guess all that running's doing some good.
We looked at each other in the mirror crowded against each other. I realized he was bigger than me, taller too. Somehow, since I'd known him he seemed smaller or at least shorter than me. His reflection in the mirror showed his dick pressed against the edge of the sink above his balls. My reflection only just got past my small patch of pubes. I adjusted my hard cock up, and my dick showed longer than his even on my shorter body, and just about as thick. It wasn't the foreskin made it look bigger. When I get a hard on my foreskin peels back naturally making a circle around the tip of my dick exposing the slit and about half my dickhead. And you could see the outline of the rest of the flaring head under the thin skin.
He didn't have a bad body. It wasn't really pretty but ok. I guess it was a normal, heavy set teen body for 15 year old kid like some of my classmates. A couple of them were just like him.
We both admired my body in the mirror, long and lithe and fine. I caught his eyes looking my reflection up and down, staring at the end of my uncut dick. He turned his head to me and more directly looked down to my dick.
We both had the bases of our hard cocks pressed against the cool porcelain sink. It felt good and we both were getting off on it.
"You want to beat off?" He asked, looking down at the end of my boner, not taking his eyes off me. Pressing against the sink had made a drop of slime come up to the slit of my cock and we both could see it.
We sat next to each other on that wrap around red trailer couch, legs spread, hips and legs touching, stretched out. We stroked ourselves looking at each other's stiff cocks as we stroked. He put his arm around behind my head and his hand went down on my pec. He rubbed my nipple with his fingers making circles on them around the small little hard tubes at the point. He pulled on the points and pinched just like I liked to do.
"Can I suck on your tits?" he asked.
"Oh no" I thought.
"Go ahead" I said and let my breath out slowly as I felt his warm mouth and the tip of his tongue running all around on it.
It felt good, so after a little while I sat up and did the same to his pointy left nipple. The nipple tip was hard, but the rest of it soft.
He let out a breath, "Oooh - they're really sensitive... that feels really good"
I put my hand on his inner thigh and he reached down and took my dick in his hand. I knew this was too gay but I didn't give a damn, I knew I shouldn't be doing this but didn't want to stop. I couldn't stop. My heart was racing and I was getting all red and blushing and my dick was too hard.
"Watch out," I said, "you asking for trouble."
"No trouble," he said. He sat up and got his face close to my dick, stroked it, watching carefully as he pulled the foreskin back and forth over the head of my now raging hard on. He pulled back the skin the head already wet with slime.
"You really have a beautiful long straight dick," he said. "It feels good in my hand."
"Mine too" I thought. Another drop came up on the slit as he stroked and he asked me if I've ever tasted it.
"Tasted what?" I asked,
"This," he said and pinched the drop of slime off my dick and showed it to me, separating his fingers forming a shiny thin line between them.
"Yeah, I guess I have," I said.
"How does it taste" he asked.
"Try it and find out," I said, smiling. But he did!
He licked his fingers and smacked his lips.
"Umm, Can I have more, please?" He smiled as if he'd made a joke. He was always doing that, a smile like he'd said a joke.
Something in the back of my mind kept saying, "no, don't do it - this has gone far enough."
"Sure" I said, and watched the back of his dirty blond hair go down to my lap, feeling the moist warmness of his mouth and the rolling his tongue around on the exposed round head. He held my balls and admired my standing dick. It was long, at least compared to him, waving it around, admiring it at its full hardness, its length, and the foreskin wrapped around the head.
He went back to stroking it slowly, running it in and out his mouth sucking, running his lips and tongue up and down the stiff hard shaft and all around the head. He ran his open mouth sideways down the full length of the stiff standing shaft from the raging dripping head to my hairless balls, then licking kissing and sucking back up the long shaft up to the head again. I just watched as he kissed the slit, pressing the tip of his tongue into it, his pink lips around the tip, sucking only the tip for more. He rubbed the dickhead on his upper lip like he smelled it then ran his open mouth sideways again, down to my balls.
I never had a blowjob before. It was too late to tell him to stop. I didn't even think about it. I just watched and felt the warm mouth all over my cock. I pushed his head down, his mouth taking the deep red wet dickhead a couple of inches as deep as he could.
I lay back on the couch, put a pillow under my head and watched him suck on my stiff long pole. Most of the time, when he had it in his mouth he let go the shaft - a no hands blowjob. His eyes were closed as he turned his head from side to side, up and down, then bobbing up and down on it, then down as deep as he could. I heard him gag but that didn't stop him from trying, pushing against his warm tight throat as deep as he could. And it did go a little bit deeper down his tight throat every time.
He took it between his teeth and cheek. then the other cheek, kissing, licking, sucking the underside of the head, and back down deep on it, every time deeper until he could get most of it in his mouth and down his throat. I guess down his throat - there wasn't much else place to put it and it was too hard and stiff for it to bend. He licked the shaft up and down, and holding it straight up in the air, ran his open mouth along the length to my balls. He licked my balls humming like really good ice cream, running his open mouth and red tongue up to the wet head to take it all in his mouth again, deeper and then deeper in his throat.
This was great!
He was really into it, bunching up the foreskin and sticking his tongue under it, biting the bunched up foreskin and licking the dickhead under the skin, sucking up more slime. He bit and pulled the foreskin with his teeth looking up at me smiling. Then running his tongue under the bunched up skin again, around and around, again and again, and then going back to my balls, squeezing the hard dick shaft and the cockhead as he licked and sucked each hairless ball, one at a time, rolling each one in his mouth - and then the two, filling his mouth with them.
And then open mouthed, the broad red tongue would lick back up to the head to start over again, bobbing and turning his head all around the red head.
I lay back eyes closed, softly pinching my nipples, feeling my chest and abs, enjoying that warm moist blowjob. When he was licking my balls I stroked my hard dick, feeling it wet and rock hard under the soft wet skin.
But it didn't last that long.
I was ready to come. He kept on sucking and licking even after I told him. He looked up and smiling, his blue eyes were twinkling, my dick in his fist against his face, my wet dickhead sticking out from his fist rubbing against his cheek. He asked if I'd ever tasted my come. But before I could answer my dick shot a long thick stream of come straight up in the air, high up in the air, falling and landing on his hair and forehead.
He put his mouth on the shooting head and took two or three long agonizing shots in his mouth and down his throat. When he was sure I stopped shooting he brought the head back from his throat to his mouth to get the come that I knew was oozing out of my now tender, hard dickhead.
As I shot I moaned loud AAAAHHH and felt the strongest orgasms I had ever felt, every shot stronger, every shot raising my ass from the couch pressing the shooting dick deeper into his face, every shot stiffening every muscle in my body. When I was done coming and all my cum was down his throat or in his mouth, he took my dick deep in his throat again. The pain from his throat squeezing my tender dickhead made me squirm and arch my back again.
My dick was still in his mouth as I arched my back. He felt the slope of my stomach, all the way from my small patch of pubes between my hip bones up to my expanded chest and the strong, fast beating heart under my rib cage.
He stroked the still stiff dick as he sucked making sure he got it all, looking up at me with those blue smiling eyes as he rolled my come around in his mouth, around the thick throbbing dickhead still in his mouth.
He opened his mouth to show me my come, bright eyed, like he was proud.
I lay back letting go the tension, and just closed my eyes, feeling a glow, almost wanting to sleep. My dick was still hard and in his fist. I opened my eyes to him staring at me smiling, my come on his forehead now clear and flowing down his nose and cheek, to the corner of his mouth. He scraped it from his cheek and sucked the slime off his finger, swallowed and then he went back to licking and sucking my cock clean. I didn't feel much, but it didn't get soft and he looked up at me, my cock in his stroking hand.
He had this big smile giggling with delight like a small boy. My dick still in his fist, rubbing his cheek with my dickhead up against his face, he looked at me full with bright blue eyes and practically squealed,
"That was really fun!"
Whew. Beating off had never been this good!
We lay there naked for a while, side to side. I didn't know what to do or say. I was afraid he would ask me to suck him off and I really didn't want to. But he didn't ask. Sitting back on the couch he stroked his dick, turning to suck on my tit. I put my arm around the back of his head and he laid his head on my arm. He started stroking his dick looking at me, looking down at my body, feeling and rubbing my heavy spent dick with his free hand, pressing it against my stomach, feeling my balls, pinching my scrotum. He pressed the heel of his hand against the base of my cock just above my balls, pressing like we'd done on the sink and it felt just as good.
I kissed and sucked on his nipple and groaning loud he came, flat on his back, three or for really good high shots that fell back on his chest, and the rest just oozed from his pointy dickhead to his belly. He picked up a gob or two and licked it off his fingers, rubbing what he couldn't pinch or scrape off his belly and chest all over himself and then licked his fingers and hand, smiling at me.
He offered me a taste but I said "no thanks."
He laughed to himself.
We just lay there for a while. A train pulled into the yard. It got really noisy. The old trailer began to shake but we just lay there as it got dark. He kissed my lips and it surprised me and I pulled away. But I felt bad, so I came back toward him and I kissed him back and we got into a necking session. I couldn't taste my come. I looked for it with my tongue.
We both felt each other up as we kissed and we both had hardons again.
I don't think my dick had gotten soft at all.
He sucked my dick a little bit and went back to kissing. I sucked his nip and bit it too.
He suggested we get in bed. So he pulled out his bed and a couple of full white pillows, lifting the couch seat. I had expected funky dirty come covered sweaty smelling crusty sheets but they were white and clean and didn't smell at all. I just lay there my hands behind my head letting his hands feel from my balls to my chest, and them my arms, letting him feel my hard round biceps flexed into hard round balls, tracing the line between them and my shoulder. I let him lick and kiss me, even inside my pits and feel me up. I was enjoying it.
I asked him where he was sleeping. He laughed and said he was supposed to sleep on his father's bed. I asked what time his Dad was coming home and he said he didn't know that if he managed to hitch a ride on an early freight train it might be early morning. I asked him what he would say if he saw us naked in bed together and Ed laughed.
"Don't worry about that," he said. "We'll be up. It gets kind of noisy around here. But it wouldn't upset him if he did.
I wanted to piss so I got up to go to the bathroom.
Ed said, "Let's go outside to piss."
It was dark now, and as I opened the door the cool evening air hit my body. I was sweaty hot and it felt real good wrapped around my skin.
Ed pushed followed me down the three steps just behind me, his hand on my shoulder. Barefoot we went around the trailer to the rail side and I let go. Ed came up alongside me and pissed on my foot. I pushed him away and told him to be careful. He said he was sorry and that I could piss on him if I wanted to. I was almost done, but I turned and pissed what was left on his leg. He laughed and said it was nice and warm, and pissed again on my foot. It was warm and damn if it didn't feel good in the chill of that naked night.
I liked being naked outside. I'd never really done it before. Not like that with a big hard on and all sexy. I shivered but it wasn't because of the air. I fingered my dick and Ed put his arm around my waist and we just stood there, feeling warm against each other.
It got chilly and we went back inside. Ed brought me a wet wash cloth to clean up my foot. Then he cleaned up his leg, laughing. I was used to getting up early and I was tired. I lay on the nice clean bed and pulled the other sheet up over me and turned on my side away from him. He snuggled up against my back and asked if I minded.
I said, "no, but don't get any ideas."
He laughed and asked if he could put his dick between my legs - just to be comfortable. I didn't say anything and just felt his arm as it reached around under my arm, his beefy hand to my chest. I never noticed his hands before. The thick beefy finger felt good rubbing around against my nipples.
I remembered when my mom and her friends said someone was sleeping with somebody else. They said it like it was bad.
A train rumbled by real close to the trailer and woke me up. The sheet was on the floor and Ed was crouched between my legs playing with my stiff morning woody. It was still dark but I could see his head like a shadow going up and down, and felt my dick tight in his fist, warm and wet in his mouth.
He looked up and said, "good morning," real cheerful, like he was happy.
He went back to the exposed dickehead in his fist and licked it all up, licking the underside of the head, kissing and sucking the two round halves hard, popping his lips as he kissed and sucked. A drop of slime formed on the cock slit and his whole tongue carefully licked it off. He stuck the tip of his tongue into the slit and stoked my dick, trying to squeeze more out.
He wrapped the end of my dick in the palm of his hand and pressed his mouth against the circle of his thumb and forefinger, bobbing up and down just on the head - up and down, up and down. It was good, his full hand not too tight around my dickhead, his lips against the slit, sliding the foreskin down, and on the down stroke his warm mouth sucking it and his tongue licking it inside his mouth; and then an upstroke, his lips sliding up around on the head, sliding to the slit and sucking, squeezing the head a little bit and down again his lips sliding down along it, sucking the head as his lips slid the skin slid down from it.
He pressed his lips against it the end of my cock as he stroked it up and down so tight I couldn't see my dick - felt so good. I told him that it felt really good and he kept my dickhead wrapped in his hand, kept stroking it up and down in and out of his mouth, up and down, up and down, wet and warm, so nice and tight, so smooth in and out of his mouth. I lay back and closed my eyes and felt it a good while. Then he put about half the head in his open mouth then slapped his tongue and cheek with it, looking up at me and smiling.
"Hit me with it" he said, and I did. I gripped the base of my dick and slapped his face a few times. It only made my dick harder and stiffer. He opened his mouth and tried to capture it. It became a game, to keep my dick out of his open mouth so I could keep on hitting his face with it. We were both kind of laughing.
Trains were coming into the yard and it was non-stop iron squeals, men yelling, bangs and crashes, pneumatic hisses, and the blaring of horns as they switched cars from one train to another. It was like a soundtrack.
He took it in his mouth again; licking the round halves of the underside real fast with his tongue, like it was dripping something really good and he wanted to get it all. It tickled and he smiled at me again, tickling it with his tongue. He worked on the head as he stroked, licking precum off whenever he managed to get some, then opening his mouth wide, rubbing the head against the roof of his mouth, between his teeth and cheeks, looking into my eyes.
When the dickhead was in his mouth I could feel his tongue going all around, all around it. He bunched the foreskin up and put his tongue under the loose skin, round and round again, and then he pulled the skin back to kiss and suck the underside again, then more wet, sloppy, open mouth noisy, full-lipped cockshaft kisses up and down the length to my balls and back again.
After a while he started going down on it, deep in his throat like last night. He knew I really liked that. He looked up at me and tried to smile with almost the whole shaft deep in his mouth. I smiled back and stroked his hair and pushed his head back on it, and deep it went, all the way to my balls.
"Oooooh." All I could do was moan.
He asked me to stand up, and I did. He got on his knees and ran my whole hard cock in and out of his mouth three or four times, deep, up to my balls. All I could do was to hang on to his hair. I began to hold on to his head and pump my wet, streaming hard pole as deep as I could into his mouth, in and out, and then held his head tight moving his throat around the head. I reached down and felt my dick in his throat, the shaft and the head as it moved my hard dick in and out. I felt a bulge on his throat grow then get small again as I pulled it back. He just let me do my thing, his eyes closed, holding on to my round bare ass.
I fucked his face hard. I didn't care how it was for him. I felt strong, my whole body flexed and tingled, pumping and forcing my dick down his throat, pulling his head against me as hard as I could, pressing his nose against my pubes, feeling my balls press against his chin.
I just kept on forcing my dick down his throat, really getting into it, hearing him gag, feeling his hands on my thighs pushing, trying to get his breath. And when I let him breath I only pulled my dick back to his mouth. He drooled and gasped. I forced my dick down his throat again, pulling his head against me hard again, pumping it as deep as I could, and moving his head around to feel it on my cock. My whole body was tense. It was fun making him gag and spit.
A whole wad of spit came out of his breathless mouth, streams and gobs of it, falling to his chest and the floor. He tried to wipe his mouth but all it did was make a mess, the white foamy spit was too thick and hung from his hand and wrist. He looked up at me and his eyes were like he had been crying. He saw my reaction and catching his breath, told me not to worry, that "face fucking" always made his eyes water.
I rammed my dick down his throat and came. I looked down at his wet sticky face and saw that he was beating off, and as I came he came too, a white stream of come oozed out of his dick and then he started shooting. My dick was shooting too. He eased it out of his throat and took the last shots in his mouth, and bubbly cum started to ooze out of his mouth, his lips tight around my shooting cock, all bubbly mixed in with his spit. I just froze arched back and shot, and shot some more.
I sat on the edge of the bed and lay back on my elbows. My ass was just on the edge of the bed, my legs spread wide inviting him - legs spread wide, holding my hard wet dick straight up in the air just for him. I wanted to go again, non-stop.
Ed knelt between my legs, running his hands slowly up the inside of my long lean tight thighs, up all along my sides, up to my pits. I closed my eyes and felt him hold on to my hard upper arms, and I made my biceps into hard round balls just for him. I closed my eyes and felt him lick and kiss along the inner groove of my abs.
I could feel his wet face travel the length of my torso. He went down again with little kisses all along my stomach, belly button, dick, pubes and all, and ran his open mouth and tongue from my balls to the still wet head and gobbled it up.
He even made a noise that sounded like "gobble."
He started to do what he does best. Even though I had just come I was ready for more. But he stopped. I looked down at my dickhead sprouting from his slowly stroking fist making wet circles upside his cheek, He looked up at me with his blue eyes looking like he had done something wrong and was really sorry.
"I've really got to take a dump. Bad!" he said.
He ran into the bathroom and I just lay there. I couldn't move, and wondered where he'd learned to suck dicks like that. It was intense!
I ran the tips of my fingers on my wet dick and began to become aware of where I was. I heard the birds sing. The yard was really quiet. It was dawn, the light just breaking through the darkness and the curtains.
I realized it must be close to 6 and that his Dad would be home soon. I got up, smoothed out the sheet and folded the other one, lifted the bed and put the pillows and sheet in the box underneath and closed it. The cards were all over the floor underneath and I picked them up, put them back in the box, found my clothes and started to dress. I heard the toilet flush and Ed came out of the bathroom smiling, his hard dick pointing up against his stomach.
"Your Dad's gonna be home soon," I said.
"Oh," he said. "You're right."
He picked up his clothes and took them to the bedroom and messed up the carefully made bed a bit. He got his running clothes on too, and said that his Dad really should have been there already.
I started to do my crunches and he got curious. I did my crunches but only got to about 158. I did my pushups, rubbing my dick on the floor every time, but only did to about 86. I didn't have the energy I usually had - least not for pushups.
He tried to do crunches but I had to hold his feet down. Didn't do too many. As I held his feet down I started to feel kind of disgusted with him, and as he struggled with the pushups I really got kind of pissed off.
I put on my shoes and picked up my backpack and said impatiently, "let's go," running out the door. He struggled with his shoes and ran out to catch up. But I was too far ahead. I felt mean and decided to take an uphill trail after the over pass, and he followed. He got real winded and must have been feeling the pain as I was. He called out for me to stop. I turned as I ran and just yelled back,
"Come on pussy boy - make a man out of you." I knew it was mean and I meant it to be mean.
He looked up at me startled but I only kept on running. He must have stopped to rest 'cause he wasn't behind me after a while.
I ran by his house a couple for a couple of days. I didn't stop and he just ran out to follow me. I did the steep ridge trail and he tried, but he couldn't keep up with me. But after a couple of days he started keeping closer, so I just speeded up, yelling at him to catch up, calling him "you faggot" and "queer."
We were running on guts alone. I was hurting too but I liked thinking of how much more he must be hurting.
I stopped going past his house and ran alone. I think he started to run alone too, and later on I could almost feel him behind me. But when I turned he wasn't there. I made sure he didn't follow and ran on steep hiking trails that went almost straight up to the crest.
One day I went to pick up the mail and Mrs. Hollings handed me a letter from him that she said he had dropped off. I went by the trailer and the awning was gone. There was a padlock on the door.
I didn't read the letter and just put it in my pocket of my old cut- offs.
My Mom noticed my moods. I wasn't beating off every day but I did go out to the outhouse just to sit and be by myself. She asked me once why I was so snippy with my sisters. Another time she asked me to go outside; that I was too angry and she couldn't deal with it. But she never spoke sharp to me and knew when to leave me alone.
I really didn't know what was up with me either.
In late August, my Dad got a job training firefighters so we moved. My new high school was a lot bigger and had a lot more kids. I was still in my funk. I did my homework alone - not much else to do - no real chores. I got good grades and my Mom was happy with me again.
One kid I made friends with played soccer so I went out for the soccer team. It turns out I was good at it. My coach even told me that if I kept my grades up and continued improving my soccer skills, I might get a soccer scholarship maybe even to a UC. He knew a coach there. He even got me a scholarship to soccer camp next summer.
I know my Mom didn't want to move from the house she was born in, but she was right. The move was good for me and I started going back to being someone I grew to like again.
One day I was cleaning the garage and I found an unpacked cardboard box with my old running stuff and the cutoffs with Ed's letter in the pocket. I thought I had thrown it away. But I hadn't thought about him for a long time and opened it.
It said he was really sorry our friendship had tanked and that he still liked me very much even though I really hurt him.
"Dad said it's life and that I will learn from it" he wrote.
His Dad had gotten a transfer to a project to design and build a high speed rail line from Bakersfield to San Francisco.
"When I told you my Dad was an engineer you thought he drove trains. But he's a structural engineer and designs and supervises building bridges and trestles and things like that for the railroad. I thought it was funny so I never told you," he wrote. He said he'd never been in a "rural" area before and that he had enjoyed most of it, that it was really beautiful "like you."
They were moving from Omaha, but that he was glad they were moving. He said they had to move from Omaha. He was glad they were moving. He said he didn't know where they were moving to, but that he would let me know if I answered his letter, and gave me an address to write to him and a phone number.
He signed it, "Love, Ed", with a couple of little hearts around it, and underneath he printed his whole name followed by a III.
It had been almost a year. I had always wondered how he had gotten to be such an expert cocksucker so I looked him up on Facebook. He was really proud he had made the wrestling team at his new "gay friendly" high school. He had pictures of himself, all buff in his wrestling clothes, big chest and biceps bulging from his arms. He was holding a trophy in one picture. Nothing on sucking cocks though.
He was the same cheerful Ed. No longer fat but still cheerful and happy.
I went back to his old posts and saw a picture of him and his Dad, posted last summer.
Underneath it said, "My Dad. He's really my Uncle. He took me in when my parents gave up on me. He always lets me be who I am. He's gay too."
He had pictures and selfies with his Uncle, One, in front of the trailer, looking just like I remembered him, but smiling a little, only a little thin smile.
I also found a picture of us when were running together - me shirtless -and him just the way he was in his grungy t-shirt. I didn't remember when he took the picture with the meadow at our back. I remembered the stories he and the squirrels used to tell me.
He had a bunch of pictures of me. Underneath he wrote "The love of my life." We both looked smiling and happy.
It made me really sad for some reason, just looking at our picture... and the letter... and remembering. Really sad... how mean I'd been... A kind of sweet, deep sad...
I sat back from my computer and thought about all these things, the sadness all over me. I finally clicked a "like" under the picture of him and his wrestling team and the one with him holding the trophy, where he was smiling from ear to ear. A few days later I found a like from him under pictures of me and the soccer team on my Facebook page.
We're not friends on Facebook or anything, but we do keep up with each other just liking stuff on our pages sometimes.
Hey, Ed.