Uncle Buddy and Me

UNCLE BUDDY AND ME AT THE X BAR L

DISCLAIMER: This is just a story what never happened because Uncle Buddy would never have let me get that close to no elk in the first place. It is a story for grownups only, because it talks about things that only grownups do or talk about and when you get to be grown up, you'll know what I mean. Until then, wait. This story belongs to me on account of I wrote it down and have the copyright on it and Uncle Buddy and me will find out where you live if you mess with it any more than reading it here in the Nifty Archive and telling your grownup friends where they can read it to if you like it which I hope you will. Park517@aol.com

Uncle Buddy had this real sour expression on his face. Anybody who's seen "Return of the Jedi" - that's just about everybody, I figure - knows the expression I mean. It's the way Princess Leia looked a lot of the time, but especially when she was chained up alongside Jabba the Hutt's throne waiting for Luke Skywalker to come save her before Jabba ate her or slimed her or whatever Hutts do to Princesses in off-the-shoulder, captive- slave-girl outfits.

That's the way Uncle Buddy looked -- pissed off. Except, of course, he was pissed off at me, not at Luke for being late, and Uncle Buddy wasn't wearing an off-the-shoulder, captive-slave- girl-outfit. Fact is, he wasn't wearing much of anything. He had some kind of collar around his neck with a chain clipped to it, and his special parts were all squinched up in a sort of leather sack, and his skin was all shiny from a real heavy coat of baby oil or something. But the look he was giving me - "What the fuck have you got me into now, asshole?" - would have done Princess Leia proud.

What I'd gotten him into wasn't actually that bad. Just a wrestling match, and not even a real one. He and the Twink was going to do the wrestling, and the big-time film crew was going to get pictures of everything. Especially the part where Uncle Buddy and the Twink, whose special parts were all bunched up, too, but in a pretty small piece of shiny gold-like cloth, would get one hundred percent naked and kind of excited and start fooling around. It's not as if Uncle Buddy had never been one hundred percent naked with another dude because of course he had, mostly with me. But we'd never had no film crew around, and I think that's what had Uncle Buddy pissed off. Uncle Buddy had a modest streak, coming like he does from a God-fearing family run by his father who looks a lot like God and can talk like Him, too.

I come from the same family. And at near the same time, having got born about five months before Buddy did. But Buddy's father is my granddad, and my father is Buddy's half-brother, which makes me Buddy's nephew, except I'm older, so I never had to pretend to show him much respect beyond calling him Uncle now and then in company. Buddy's momma was a pretty little thing - that's what my dad always said about his dad's second, late-in-life wife - and Buddy took after her for the longest time. He was pretty and he stayed little whilst I got big, which meant I could pretty well tell him what to do and where to get off and could get away with it. Which I did. So by the time Buddy got big, too, he was used to doing what I said. Still is. But he can get pissed off at me. Like he did the day before the wrestling match in front of the big-time film crew.

Looking back on it, he had some cause to be pissed off at me. It was on account of me spotting this great big bull elk in the shallows of the Bitterroot River and flat out insisting that Buddy and me take our canoe in for a closer look. Now I know you don't want to mess with no elk in rut, but this one looked to be alone and still had some of that moss-like covering hanging down off his antlers. So I figured he was just building up attitude for mating season and was safe to get close to long as we stayed real quiet and downwind.

The thing is, I figured wrong. Just about the time we got the canoe into the shallows, tiptoeing kind of, two things happened. The wind shifted, and the elk's lady friend strolled out of a stand of aspen trees to hint kind of that time was wasting. Could be, that elk had Buddy's kind of modest streak, or, more likely, was easily pissed off. At any rate, he spotted us and charged the canoe with Buddy and me in it. Until we got out of it. Fast. Like I said, we was in the shallows, so I figured we'd best leave the canoe for the elk to mess up so it wouldn't bother with messing us up too.

It did. Mess up the canoe, that is. Looking back at it - the elk, that is, to see if it was going to come after us - I saw the canoe go spinning a good 15 feet up in the air, spilling out all our camping gear, some into the shallows, some into deeper water. Which left Buddy and me in our cut-offs and boots up shit creek without any paddles or tent or bedrolls or fishing line, rifle, flashlight, or food. Well, you get the idea. At least, it was a real warm day for the second week in June in the Tetons, and me and Buddy was on the east bank of the river where the north- south roads run some ways from the river and the elk looked to have worked its upset out of its system. Which you couldn't truthfully say about Uncle Buddy.

He didn't go for his hunting knife. He was pissed off but not murderous. But he did curse me for having shit for brains, and he said that if he fucked me between the ears, which he just might decide to do, I'd never feel a thing since the inside of my head was as hollow as a politician's promise. Then he said that before he starved to death on account of I'd been an asshole, he would take out his hunting knife and remove pieces of me bit by bit for his meals and he asked me to guess which pieces of me he'd start in on first.

I didn't need to guess. He'd had a thing about my dick and my nuts ever since I first showed him how the one got big when it got stiff and how the others tried to climb up it. He was downright fascinated. For close to two years till his turn came to get big and stiff - he was something of a late bloomer in that department - he couldn't get enough of the sight and the feel and even the taste of me. And he was pretty, like I said, so I didn't have no objection to the business of getting one hundred percent naked with him even if he was my own uncle.

Then when he started in to get stiff and big on his own, I was the one who got fascinated. Most of the time Uncle Buddy's dick and my dick were just your ordinary, run-of-the-mill, human male sex organs, and when mine got stiff and big, it got adequate to the occasion but that's about all. Uncle Buddy, though, his pecker could go from zero to sixty in about the time it takes a snake to strike. The speed was remarkable, but the size shift was purely astonishing. One minute he was run-of-the-mill and the next thing you knew, he had a war club waving there between his legs. Which is why I got fascinated and why this big-time film crew wanted him to wrestle till his leather sack came off.

The way the director of the big-time film crew had it figured, once Uncle Buddy busted loose, in a manner of speaking, the Twink was either going to settle down and do what he was getting paid for or he was going to break his contract out of pure unadulterated terror, in which case Uncle Buddy and me, the director said, would have the opportunity of a lifetime. I hadn't exactly spelled everything out to Uncle Buddy because the director didn't want to interfere with what he expected to be the spontaneity of it all. I had just told Uncle Buddy that if he won the wrestling match which he was sure to being strong and a champion high-school wrestler, he was going to be able to fuck the Twink in the face and the ass right there by the barn at the X Bar L ranch resort. Uncle Buddy agreed that the Twink looked like he'd be easy to wrestle and fun to fuck so he, Uncle Buddy, that is, went along with the idea. Then he found out that the big-time camera crew would be taking pictures of the proceedings, and that's when he got that pissed-off, Princess Leia look. But by then everything was set, and he couldn't back out, and the director seemed to like the pissed-off look anyway. "He looks mean" is what he, the director, that is, whispered to me. "That's great. A mean angel. Real kinky."

The director's name is Jack, and he was the first member of the big-time film crew Uncle Buddy and me met when we walked up to the X Bar L ranch resort kind of late in the afternoon of the day that the elk got upset with us. Jack was walking up and down and talking to himself when we showed up, saying things like "Calls himself a cocksucker, does he?" and "Can't take it up the ass!? He could take a Ryder truck up that ass and still have room for Rock Hudson, Liberace and the Trockaderos."

I kind of didn't want to interrupt such an interesting discussion, but the truth is Uncle Buddy and me was hungry and thirsty and scratched up and so tired and footsore that until we saw the fence around the X Bar L ranch resort we was almost ready to lay down and give up. Not having no shirts on nor no way to make a fire and with evening coming, we had about given up on our chances of getting home in good health. Uncle Buddy had started in to talk about the wolf packs that the pointy-headed godless Communists in Washington had raised up in Yellowstone and how when they came for us in the night, he'd make sure they took me first. He was still pissed off at me on account of that elk and our canoe and the camping trip I'd fucked up.

So when we saw Jack, not that we knew his name at the time, we was not at our most presentable. I had some dried blood over one eye where I hadn't seen a tree branch coming on account of looking back at the elk, and Uncle Buddy had his pissed-off, Princess Leia look and his long, white-blond hair was full of leaves and twigs. So when Jack finally looked up and saw us, what he said was "Holy Charles Manson!" and he took a step or two backwards and put up his hands and said something kind of short about how we were on private property and shouldn't plan to stick around long. Then he yelled, real loud, "Benny, Luther, Arnie, we got company! Strangers! And," he yelled this even louder, "they got knives!"

Quick as I could I explained who me and Uncle Buddy was and how we'd been attacked by an elk in the shallows and had been walking ever since looking for a road to hitchhike our way back home. And I said that if maybe we could borrow shirts and get directions to the road, we'd be on our way and didn't want to be no trouble. Just when I was getting ready to ask for a drink of water, too, three men ran up to where we was talking and one of them was carrying a two-by-four and seemed a little anxious. So I started in again on the explaining and apologizing, but just about when I'd gotten to the elk and our canoe, I heard Uncle Buddy sort of sigh and then I heard a thump on account of he'd keeled over.

That pretty well broke the ice. The fellow with the two-by- four dropped it and ran to pick up Uncle Buddy and said, "poor kid, poor kid" over and over after I said not to worry that Uncle Buddy was probably just tired and hungry and only needed a little rest. The other men kneeled down, and one of them who was holding a can of pop poured some of it into Uncle Buddy's mouth, and he came to, looking confused and asking what happened. The fellow holding him up said he'd fainted, Uncle Buddy, that is, but he'd be all right and just to stay calm, and the fellow patted him on his shoulders and his arms and his legs in a nice, considerate sort of way. He also started picking the leaves and twigs out of Uncle Buddy's hair and trying to unsnarl it and smooth it down with his fingers. That was nice and considerate, too, but Uncle Buddy must have thought it was a little too friendly because he sort of pushed the fellow off and stood up. All that patting and smoothing and unsnarling was making Uncle Buddy nervous and more, as I could tell by the way his cut-offs was squeezing him.

Once it was generally agreed that Uncle Buddy was a poor kid, the fellows warmed right up. One of them ran off to get us some sandwiches. Another followed him but high-tailed it right back with beer and pop and water. Jack, the director, told us his name was Jack, and I said mine was Seth and that this was my Uncle Buddy. Then we shook hands, and Jack led us around the main house of the X Bar L ranch resort to where he said we could get cleaned up.

The cleaning up place was an outdoor shower - something Uncle Buddy and me had never seen before that day - with a stockade fence so it was hard to see everything inside if you was outside and room for two to lather up and rinse down. Whilst I was getting the dirt and dried blood off me, I noticed that I'd been right about how nervous Uncle Buddy had gotten whilst that fellow patted and smoothed and unsnarled him. Not that he'd gone from zero to sixty, but nobody outside who looked inside the outdoor shower would call him run-of-the-mill. Jack did look inside, but just long enough to leave some towels and tell us to come to the hot tub when we was done showering.

Right away, of course, Uncle Buddy wanted to know what a hot tub was. I had to do some fancy footwork with my mouth about how I couldn't believe he was so green and out of it that he didn't know what a hot tub was and how all the ranch resorts had at least one of them for the guests. Finally, I said the best thing I could do was just show him the hot tub so he'd understand and stop pestering me with his pitiful ignorance. Before we left off showering, though, I made Uncle Buddy run the cold water on his special parts to get them back to looking run-of-the-mill. I couldn't tell you why I had this feeling that the time hadn't come for Uncle Buddy to show himself off, but I just had it, the feeling, that is. And since I didn't have a single idea myself about what a hot tub was, I thought that keeping an ace up my sleeve, in a manner of speaking, couldn't hurt.

I didn't have no sleeve, of course, but I did have a towel cinched around my waist when me and Uncle Buddy went looking for the hot tub, which was actually just around the corner from the shower and where, the hot tub, that is, there wasn't much of any call for a towel, not around your waist, nor no place else. I've seen men one hundred per cent naked before. But in a locker room after a football game, to take a for instance, there's generally a good deal of movement and covering up and towel-snapping and yelling and general carrying-on, and unless you want to get a bad name for yourself, you don't do a lot of staring. The hot tub was something else. No matter where you looked, everybody was one hundred percent naked and, you'd have to say, pretty casual about staring and being stared at.

The fellow who'd poured the pop into Uncle Buddy's mouth - his name turned out to be Arnie and he was the cameraman - was leaning back on his elbows in the water with his legs stuck out in front of him so that the parts of him that you don't ordinarily stare at were floating out on the surface. Arnie looked like he didn't have a care in the world. Part of the reason, I guess, was the fellow sitting on the rim of the tub behind Arnie with his legs spread wide who was rubbing Arnie's shoulders and neck. He was called Bernie, and Jack said he was the producer and was Arnie's partner. I started to ask what business the two of them was in, but they looked more like real, close personal friends than fellows who was in business together so I held my tongue.

Jack himself was about to get into the tub when me and Uncle Buddy showed up, but he stopped and introduced us to the other fellows instead, including to one who was all the way in the water who he said went by the name of Dick B. Long. "He's our Star," Jack said, but Dick B. didn't act much like no Star. Being one hundred per cent naked, of course, he wasn't in condition to offer us no autograph. Still he could have been civil, which he almost wasn't. He hardly even looked up when Uncle Buddy and me was introduced and just muttered a "Hi" at us before he went back to hanging his head.

Jack said Uncle Buddy and me should just come on in to the tub and Luther would be along after a while with something for us to eat which we could do, eat, that is, in the tub. Jack got into the tub himself next to Dick B. but one level higher and stretched out his legs like Arnie with pretty much the same results as far as floating went. Jack pointed to a space next to him for me to take and a place on the other side for Uncle Buddy. There was nothing for it. I uncinched my towel and walked bareass to the rim of the tub whilst everybody in it except Dick B. stared at me and the parts of me I consider run-of-the-mill. I tried to make like climbing into hot water one hundred percent naked with fellows I'd only just got to know was something I did all the time. Acting casual though, I missed my step and sort of spun around so that Jack had to grab me around the waist and pull me down into his lap to keep me from falling. He behaved like he didn't mind a bit and even kept his hands on me some extra time, except more on my backside than my waist, in the kind of way that would have made Uncle Buddy nervous if it had been his backside, that is.

Whilst I created this diversion without exactly doing it on purpose, Uncle Buddy got out of his towel and into the water on the other side of Arnie's floating legs without getting stared at. But because he didn't get all that far in, the staring squad came round to him pretty quick after I got off Jack's lap and settled down. Bernie was the one who said what all the rest of them were thinking. What he said to Uncle Buddy was "Jesus, kid, how do you get it to look like that?"

Uncle Buddy looked confused, which he was, because even though it was obvious where Bernie had been staring, the cold water treatment in the shower had gotten Uncle Buddy to where he - or, I ought to say, his special parts - were in your average, run- of-the-mill, non-operational condition. So Uncle Buddy looked down at his dick which was actually under water and then up at Bernie and what he said was "Get what like what?"

"Your hair, kid," Bernie leaned over and sort of ran a finger through the curly blond fringe on Uncle Buddy's lower belly, "I've never seen a better dye job."

"It's just the way it growed" was what Uncle Buddy said and then slid deeper into the water. On his way down, he gave me a flash of the Princess Leia, pissed-off look, and I knew I'd better create another diversion before Uncle Buddy got nervous again. I was getting a little nervous myself on account of being one hundred percent naked in the warm water with Jack and Arnie and Dick B. Long, especially Jack whose legs and hands seemed to keep finding different parts of me to rub up against. I didn't really mind. Jack was a well-set-up fellow, and he had a real warm smile which he had just turned on for Luther and the big plate of sandwiches Luther was holding.

That made Luther the diversion. At least he was whilst Jack introduced him to Uncle Buddy and me and told us Luther was the light man and the sound man and the make-up man for the big-time film crew. "And the best boy, too," Luther said, and the rest of them laughed except for Dick B. Long who didn't even look up. Luther handed Uncle Buddy and me sandwiches which we launched into then and there because we were hungry as one of those Yellowstone wolves the godless Communists in Washington had raised up and because they were really good, the sandwiches, that is, not the wolves nor the godless Communists. Whilst I was working my way through my third sandwich and not spilling so much as a crumb into the hot tub, I had a thought. I would never have another day in my life that started out with being charged by an elk and ended up sitting in a hot tub eating sandwiches with a bunch of strangers, all of us one hundred percent naked and some of us floating or being rubbed up against or both. Which I was, floating, that is, and being rubbed up against by Jack who made as if the rubbing up against was just an accident on account of he was too busy staring at the floating parts of me to pay attention to what his legs and hands were doing.

Luther said he could make more sandwiches but Uncle Buddy and me thanked him kindly, and I said he shouldn't go to the trouble we would just get dressed and borrow some shirts if that was all right and be on our way to a north-south road where we could hitchhike our way home. Jack wouldn't hear of it, our being on our way, that is. It's a long way to the road is what he said and it's going to be dark before you know it. You boys stay here tonight and get rested up proper and tomorrow we'll call a limo to come get you is what he said. I could see that Uncle Buddy was about to ask what a limo was, so before he could show how green and out of it he was, I said that Jack was real hospitable and considerate but that Uncle Buddy and me didn't want to put everybody to a lot of trouble. Jack said it was no trouble at all, we've got plenty of room, it is a ranch resort, after all, and we'd be glad of your company is what he said. Bernie and all the others said they'd be real glad, too. Only Dick B. Long didn't chime in, but he hadn't said a thing but "Hi" since Uncle Buddy and me had showed up.

Later on, Jack told me that Dick B. Long was having "creative differences" with his co-Star, the Twink, and the whole reason the big-time film crew had come on a "retreat" to the X Bar L ranch resort was to patch things up so the "Project," is what Jack called it, could get "wrapped up" and "put in the can." But things weren't going too good is what Jack said which is why, after he got to know me some, he started in to talk about giving Uncle Buddy and me the opportunity of a lifetime.

The way Jack got to know me some is that he took me to his cabin to see if any of his clothes would fit me and I got a splinter in my foot and whilst he was taking it out with tweezers he asked me if anybody had ever told me I was very good looking and ought to be in the movies. I was sitting on his bed at the time he asked, and he was kneeling on the floor in front of me and holding onto my foot, and both of us were still one hundred percent naked because after we had dried off at the hot tub I had just put my towel around my neck the way Jack had done which is the way I figured everybody did at a ranch resort like the X Bar L. Well, not everybody. Uncle Buddy cinched his towel around his waist before he went off with Luther to see did Luther have clothes that would fit him, Uncle Buddy, that is, the one with the modest streak.

I don't have much of a modest streak myself, so when I told Jack that nobody had ever mentioned me and the movies in the same breath, I was being truthful. Jack, though, acted real surprised and said that if the Project didn't already have a Twink on the payroll, I would be perfect for the part as long as I had passed my 18th birthday which I had almost two years before. Jack wanted to know, too, was I a good kisser and, still being truthful, I said nobody had ever complained which was true because except for my momma I hadn't never kissed nobody. Which is when Jack asked me would I mind showing him how I kissed and I said I wouldn't mind and he reached up to behind my head and pulled my face down to where his was and we kissed.

Well, that was something to make the day one I could send off to the Guinness record folks. First the elk, then the eating in hot water with everybody being one hundred percent naked and now a fellow sticking his tongue into my mouth whilst one of his hands went up the inside of my leg and him and me still one hundred per cent naked. I guess I shouldn't have been too surprised by the tongue and the hand, that is. It had been Jack who had been doing the rubbing up against in the hot tub, after all, and the staring at my floating parts so the kissing business was just a natural progress for him. And I had the natural reaction.

Like I said, I don't go from zero to sixty like Uncle Buddy does and when I get stiff and big it's just about adequate to the occasion. But Jack took a look at me getting that way and said I was not just good looking but good enough to eat which he'd like to do if I didn't mind. I told him that I certainly didn't mind because being one hundred percent naked and getting the way I was getting there wasn't no point in being anything but truthful. But if Jack was going to do to me what I figured he had in mind to do, I thought it was only polite to offer to do it to him too which I didn't mind either because, like I said, he was a well-set-up fellow with a real warm smile. So I offered and he said he didn't mind and he gave me a real warm smile when he said it, and we both got all the way onto the bed and arranged ourselves so we could be comfortable and useful at the same time.

I wasn't exactly green and out of it when it came to making a fellow feel good. I'd done it plenty with Uncle Buddy who had never complained and some with truck drivers who had helped me out when I hitched a ride and once with a fly fisherman from Columbus, Ohio who asked me to show him around some. Still, I learned from Jack that I had a whole lot to learn. About tongues, or I should say, his tongue. Since I'd had it in my mouth for the kissing test, I knew that it, Jack's tongue, that is, was wet and warm and long and good at moving around. But what it was turned out to be less of consequence than where it went and what it did when it got there.

I guess I have to admit it, being green and out of it, that is, because until Jack started moving his tongue around my special parts, I'd never had anything wet and warm on my nuts except the occasional washcloth. Now, there's no comparing a tongue and a washcloth on your nuts for what each can do toward getting you stiff and big. It's not like I went from zero to sixty whilst Jack's tongue was on patrol between my legs. When he raised one of my legs up over his head, though, and began to advance backwards is one way of describing it with his tongue pushing toward places of me I had never thought a tongue would care to go, I told Jack that I'd sooner he left that part of me alone for the time being and concentrated on the big and stiff part. What I said was "Cut that out unless you want your pretty hair full of my spunk."

It was a fair warning and it served its purpose. He turned his face up toward me which meant his tongue left off its advance backwards and he gave me his real warm smile and asked if I really thought his hair was pretty. Being truthful, I said I did. There was a lot of it and it was a chestnut color but it had little specks of a golden sort here and there and it was soft and wavy over his ears. He said that Luther did it for him and he was glad I liked it, his hair, that is, because some of the others had made fun of it for being sort of South Beach. I acted like I understood what he was saying and sympathized, and I did notice that the hair on his chest and down around his special parts didn't have no golden specks and was more a black than a chestnut color so I guessed that whatever Luther did had improved on nature.

Nature had given Jack some better than run-of-the-mill attractions down where his hair was more of a black than a chestnut color, but when I moved in close-up, I saw that his nuts, which were a nice size and distance down between his legs, were bald, his nuts, that is. That was one for the record books, too, I guess, being that all the other sets of nuts I'd had occasion to look at close-up had some amount of hair growing on them or out of them, whichever it is. Jack must have been watching me do my inspection because he told me not to worry, he shaved his nuts. Some of his friends, he said, liked them better without hair which can come off between your teeth or stick to your tongue and kind of cut down on the overall pleasure of a friendly blow-job was his thinking he said. So I asked if any hair had come off my nuts whilst his tongue had been on patrol, and he said No and besides he didn't mind if it did. It was just some of his friends was picky.

I wondered if I'd ever have friends I cared for enough to take a razor to my nuts, but I thought maybe I was doing too much talking and not enough of what I'd told Jack I wouldn't mind doing with his better than run-of-the-mill special parts. Uncle Buddy always likes me to have at least one hand on his butt to steady him when my mouth starts warming up his pecker so the first thing I did was put a hand between Jack's legs and part way up the middle of his backside which turned out to please Jack more than somewhat judging by the way he wiggled his bottom against my hand. Then I decided that if he could put his tongue where he had put it on me, I could do the same for him. What I did was slap his nuts around some with my tongue and squeeze them a little with my lips and even though I know I didn't have the expert touch that Jack did, I heard him moaning some whilst I slapped and squeezed and I guessed they was the moans of a happy man.

Uncle Buddy is the silent type, but I'd heard truckdrivers make noises like the ones Jack was making and I knew from the way some of them told me I was the best cock-sucking hitchhiker they'd ever had on their rig that noises like the ones Jack was making were signs of contentment and not of distress.

Still, if Jack's condition was anything like mine, big and stiff, that is, there was only so much contentment that a tongue on the nuts could provide, so I left off that activity and worked myself around to where I could get Jack into my mouth, Jack's cock, that is. It, Jack's cock, that is, might have been something of a challenge to someone who hadn't had the practice I'd had on Uncle Buddy for some six years. Like I said, Jack was well set-up and his attractions were better than run-of-the-mill and after what my tongue had been doing to his nuts, he was slick and eager and a regular eyeful. And mouthful.

Using the hand that wasn't halfway up his backside, I sort of steered him between my lips and almost but not quite to the back of my mouth. I thought I'd let him think he was nearly too much for me to handle because I'd noticed that some fellows whose attractions were definitely less than run-of-the-mill liked it a lot when I pretended to choke on them, their attractions, that is. I didn't pretend to choke on Jack but I took it slow and easy at the first sort of to get used to having him resting in my mouth and sort of to get him used to being there.

Jack returned the favor. He didn't pretend to choke neither and he took me in slow and easy at the first too and pretty soon from not having known our names, that is he not having known mine nor me his name, two hours before, we had gotten about as close to one another as two fellows can get. His nuts were on my chin and my nose was in his hair, the part of it that was more black than a chestnut color and his face was in a similar relationship to my nuts and hair that was a darker brown than the rest of my hair. And his finger was up my ass. Which really made it a banner day because that was a first, too, a first for me, that is. Not Uncle Buddy nor no truck driver nor the fly-fisherman had ever put a finger there though Uncle Buddy had regularly put another part of himself farther in than Jack's finger and one truck driver had sort of bounced me on his lap once to see could my asshole do for him what my mouth had is what he said.

But a strong, curious finger was a first for me and something I knew I'd remember right along with the elk and the one hundred per cent naked crowd in the hot tub and the kissing and the tongue patrol. There's a spot inside you that if it gets rubbed you get all warm and stiff and big, and big as he was, still is, Uncle Buddy would hit that spot more often than not when he had me on my back with my legs around him and his war club of a pecker going in and out of me. So I knew what was happening when Jack's finger suddenly put in an appearance on the same territory. The difference was that Uncle Buddy took a fairly direct and hard- hitting approach to my ass and Jack's finger was a lot more sneaky and delicate. Which only made it more exciting and got me as warm and as big and as stiff as I'd ever been until pretty quick I had to open up the valves and let go.

As soon as I did that, open up the valves and let go, that is, I opened up the back of my throat, too, and let Jack go in a lot farther and a lot deeper than he'd been getting so far and whether because of the surprise or the extra distance, that was enough for him to open his valves up and let go, too. He moaned some at that and pretty loud, too, and so did I, and we held on to each other tight the way they say drowning men do and along with all the other firsts of that day I felt like I had found a real close personal friend which was not a feeling I had had before with any of the truck-drivers or the fly-fisherman or even Uncle Buddy, who was, still is, my uncle which makes him special but not what I can call a real close personal friend.

After we'd finished moaning and holding each other tight, we went back to where we'd started which was kissing and Jack's tongue scurrying around in my mouth like a rain-soaked chipmunk hunting up a missing nut. In between scurrying, Jack said things I'd never heard before like that I was "out of sight" and "awesome" and "cute enough to take home for supper." He even asked me where I'd been all his life and when I said I'd been just up the road across the border in Montana for almost 20 years, he held me real tight and said that he'd been 29 years in the southern part of California and enough was enough why didn't him and me settle down now in the same part of the country because we couldn't go on meeting like this.

I honestly didn't know what to say to that. So I said I thought I should sleep on it and would he mind if I took 40 winks on his bed then because what with the elk and the walk and the hot tub and the kissing and all, I was suddenly feeling tired. And Jack said he was an inconsiderate fool and pulled me tight up against him and said we could sleep together which is what we did even though we were both one hundred percent naked and the air in the cabin was starting to get chilly because the sun was setting.

It was full dark when somebody, Luther probably because he was Best Boy and did a little bit of everything, banged on the cabin door and yelled that chow was ready and we should get our asses in gear or it, chow, that is, would be all gone before we got any. Jack asked me if I was hungry and, being truthful, I said I was on account of it had been a strenuous day. And besides, Jack said, "you're a growing boy" which I was on account of what his fingers were doing to the part of me that gets big and stiff when somebody's fingers get to rubbing up against it. Then he laughed and he kissed me, and I kissed him back and I set my fingers to moving around, too, but he said we ought to get dressed and he'd find some clothes for me because we weren't going to eat in the hot tub this time.

What he found for me to wear was what he called sweats that I thought had his name written on them top and bottom, but he said Versace was not his name and was pronounced vur-satchay, not veer- sayse, and he said he loved it that I didn't know about Versace who was dead anyway and didn't really deserve all the fuss people made over him alive or dead. More important was that the sweats which were just fancy warm-up pants and shirt in a color Jack said was oburjean was on the small side. Not for Jack, that is, but for me so that when I wriggled into the bottoms I had to leave the drawstring loose and even so they was so tight across my bottom and my front that it was a little like having some parts floating in the hot tub all over again. The top was snug too and it ended above where the bottom started so that my belly-button, which Jack said was too cute for words, was as much on show as if me and it were back at the hot tub where, as far as I knew, it, my belly- button, that is, hadn't caused much comment.

Jack gave me some slippers so I wouldn't get no more splinters and he pulled on a pair of jeans that was so tight on him I knew I couldn't never get into them and a sweater and shoes and then he kissed me again and what he said was it was time I met my competition. By which he meant the Twink, whose rightful name was Jason Button and who only ate things he said hadn't had a mother which meant that there was still some steaks left when Jack and me got to the X Bar L ranch resort's chow hall. All the fellows from the hot tub was there and Dick B. Long was making an effort to talk but since he picked Uncle Buddy to talk with, who is the silent type, like I said, he, Dick B., that is, wasn't getting all that far in the talk department. Uncle Buddy was wearing some chinos that was only a little snug across his bottom and his front and a really pretty soft sweater in a color Luther said was shartrooze. It, the sweater, that is, was not only fuzzy and soft but it had a kind of plunging neckline, which Luther said was called a veeneck, that meant you could see a good deal of Uncle Buddy's chest though not as much as at the hot tub where it, his chest, that is, hadn't caused no more comment than my belly button.

It was pretty clear that Luther had dressed Uncle Buddy in some of his clothes and, which was really nice, had finished the job of smoothing and unsnarling Uncle Buddy's hair which had been brushed too so much that it kind of shone. Luther probably hadn't had much time to do anything more with Uncle Buddy because, Jack said, Luther was the chief cook and bottle-washer in the big-time film crew. He had made the steaks and the baked potatos and the salad that all of us was eating except for the Twink who didn't eat no steak because it had had a mother.

The Twink sat at one end of the table and Dick B. Long sat at the other and now and then one of them would kind of glare at the other like Princess Leia in "Star Wars" the time Luke and Han Solo and Chewbacca the Wookie first came to rescue her on the Death Star. Whatever "creative differences" was I could see they was unpleasant and I felt sorry for Jack who I liked more and more partly I think because he showed that he liked me too. Once he'd cut up his steak, for instance, and had one hand free, he started to pat and smooth me down underneath the table and he whispered in my ear while he was doing it, patting and smoothing me underneath the table, that is, that I didn't ever have to worry about the Twink trying to eat me seeing as how I had a mother. "He'll never know what he missed," Jack said, and he laughed and I laughed too so hard that some of the beer I was drinking came out of my nose and Uncle Buddy gave me his own version of the pissed- off Princess Leia look.

Not that Uncle Buddy and me was anything but kin. I had my truck-drivers and the fly-fisherman from Ohio, and Uncle Buddy had Cheryl from the high school homemakers' course that most of the football team took and had her pretty often to hear him tell it. Plus he had young Jimmy Santangelo who had seen Uncle Buddy go from zero to sixty in the men's room of the gas station and feed and grain store where young Jimmy worked and had pestered Uncle Buddy ever since until they came to an agreement that involved meeting regular-like in the men's room of the gas station and feed and grain store where young Jimmy worked. And that's not counting the heifer. So Uncle Buddy had no cause to be jealous of me for having found a real close personal friend like Jack. It was more like he felt left out of the fun we was having at the table, Jack and me, that is, whilst Dick B. Long tried to talk with him not knowing that Uncle Buddy is the silent type.

To his credit, Luther had some kind of special instinct about not letting people feel left out so whenever he walked past Uncle Buddy which he did a lot going back and forth to the kitchen with dirty plates and clean ones he, Luther, that is, would sort of pat Uncle Buddy on the shoulders and smooth him down his back and generally make it clear that Uncle Buddy had no cause to feel left out. He even served Uncle Buddy the biggest slice of peach pie as though he knew that Uncle Buddy liked peach pie better than almost anything.

Dick B. Long marked how big Uncle Buddy's slice was and asked something like who's the Star around here, but Luther just patted and smoothed Dick B. some and said the poor boy needed building up. "Not so you'd notice" is what Dick B. answered and looked down to where Uncle Buddy's borrowed chinos was stretching across his front. "You ain't seen nothing yet" is what Luther said which made me wonder if he'd maybe had more time with Uncle Buddy than I thought he could have had what with making the steaks and the baked potatos and the salad and the pie like he, Luther, that is, had.

He made the coffee, too, and whilst we was drinking it, Jack asked me would it be all right if I bunked with him in his cabin which I said I'd be real honored to do if it wasn't any trouble. He said it wasn't and did some rubbing up against me to show he meant it so I believed he was being truthful and not just hospitable behind that nice warm smile of his. He, Jack, that is, said he and Bernie had to do some management work with the Twink after supper that might take some time, the work, that is, because what he called the "artistic temperament" was a complicated phenomenon is what he said and the Twink had a lot of it, artistic temperament, that is. I said I'd be glad to wait for Jack in his cabin, but Jack said that the cabin was where he and Bernie and the Twink were going to take their meeting is the way he put it. He said he'd be glad if I tried my hand at cheering up Dick B. Long whose temperament wasn't so much the problem as his equipment which had been around the track a while is what Jack said and wasn't always firing on all eight cylinders any more.

I asked what might be a good way to cheer up Dick B. Long and Jack said I should ask him if he'd show me some of his work which he could do in the lounge that the X Bar L ranch resort had where there was a big-screen television set and a videotape player. What Jack said was that a video called "Boys A-Simmer" was one of the best examples of Dick B. Long's performances as a Star and that Luther had a copy of it if Dick B. Long didn't but he generally traveled with one, the video, that is, to watch by himself if he needed to be reminded of his past triumphs and oil his equipment is how Jack explained it. Jack was right. Dick B. Long perked right up when I asked could I see some of his work because Jack had told me it would be an education for me as well as a pleasant way to pass the time and to get to know Dick B. better. Dick B. said he'd be pleased to show me some examples and he'd go to his cabin to get a tape of "Boys A-Simmer" and meet me in the lounge where the big-screen television set and videotape machine was.

Arnie heard what we said to one another and said he'd like to come along too because he'd been the cameraman on that shoot and he might pick up a few pointers by watching what he'd done in his stylistic salad days is what he said. I thought Uncle Buddy might enjoy seeing what Dick B. Long and Arnie had done together, but when I found him, he was in the kitchen and at the sink washing and scrubbing pots and pans. He'd taken off Luther's nice, shartrooz, fuzzy sweater so his chest was uncovered and Luther was keeping it dry, Uncle Buddy's chest, that is, by licking up the drops of water that splashed around during the washing and scrubbing and I could see that he, Uncle Buddy, that is, was enjoying himself plenty without seeing no videotape. For that matter, Luther looked like he was enjoying himself, too, and I thought that maybe Uncle Buddy had been lucky enough to find himself a real close personal friend like I'd found Jack and all on account of that elk.

So it was just me and Arnie and Dick B. Long, the Star, in the lounge of the X Bar L ranch resort, which was dark, and we each had separate chairs in front of the big-screen TV because watching a videotape wasn't like being in a hot tub. It was more private-like and for a good reason as I found out. At the start of the videotape, when Dick B. Long was standing in a locker room and chewing out five young men who I guessed belonged to a basketball team, I thought "Boys-a-Simmer" was going to be a come- from-behind sports movie like "Hoosiers" maybe with Dick B. Long being Gene Hackman, who I really admire for all the different parts he plays in movies. But "Boys-a-Simmer" wasn't like "Hoosiers" in which I don't recall seeing any players in jockstraps or one hundred percent naked the way they was in this locker room. Plus Gene Hackman never grabbed any of his players by their dicks which is what Dick B. Long did to one of the players he was chewing out and dragged him out of the locker room and into his office, Dick B. Long's office, that is, not Gene Hackman's.

What happened in that office was that Dick B. Long said what he already said once in the locker room which was that he was going to build discipline in this sorry team or know the reason why and he was going to start by building respect for him, the coach. He told the player he had dragged there to get on his knees and to stay there while Dick B. Long took off his clothes except for his jockstrap which he made the player kiss and lick and generally mess around with in his mouth. You could see that the young player at first didn't want no part of this kind of discipline but he learned respect pretty quick when Dick B. Long made him pull the jockstrap off with his teeth. What Dick B. Long had in that jockstrap would have earned him respect from Michael Jordan or Magic Johnson, I bet. It would have earned him respect from Andy Jackson, my granddad's prize bull, that he named for the first President from Tennessee, which is where he, my granddad, that is, grew up.

In other words, there was nothing run-of-the-mill about Dick B. Long. Up on the big-screen TV, at any rate, his cock looked like an ax handle, and when that jockstrap came down and that cock came up, I gave a whistle of surprise and admiration and respect. "Just about the biggest one in the business," Arnie said. "Damn hard to get it all in one frame of a close-up, I can tell you." I looked at Dick B. Long and at least his head wasn't hanging down no more, but I could see he was trying to be modest, the way a Star ought to be, I guess. He didn't say nothing but just kept his eyes on the big-screen TV. Which is where he had one young player after another learn to respect him by sucking on that ax handle or getting fucked by it or often as not both. And the interesting thing was how well this treatment worked in shaping up that team, because after the young players had learned respect for Dick B. Long, they took a real interest in one another that was a pleasure to see.

Even if they had been nothing but "sorry-assed losers" was the way Dick B. Long called them in the locker room and his office, those boys turned into a team that was real close-knit, and it was all Dick B. Long's doing. It was a genuinely inspiring story. I thought the big moment would come on a basketball court with the game in its final seconds and maybe one of the white players would dribble real fast and sneaky down court and look like he was going up for a throw but instead pass the ball off to the one black dude on the team for a three-pointer that would win the game as the buzzer sounded. But the videotape didn't show that kind of action. The big moment actually came by a swimming pool when Dick B. Long took on four of the five players at once with two of them taking turns trying to swallow his ax handle and another, the black dude who was a credit to his race even if he couldn't match Dick B. Long or even Andy Jackson, putting it to Dick B. Long from behind. And while that was going on, Dick B. Long was treating another player, a white one, to a serious blow job and the black dude was giving the same treatment to the fifth player. Just to show you how teamwork had improved, all six fellows popped at the same time with somebody you couldn't see, just hear, playing a big drum faster and faster and louder and louder as the team and the coach built up steam and finally opened the valves.

I was really impressed, and I said so. "That was something I never expected to see in all my life" is what I told Dick B. Long, though I didn't tell him that the day had been full of a lot of somethings I had never expected, like the elk and the hot tub and the kissing and tongue patrolling and fingering with Jack. I told him too that I thought he should be very proud of what he did to those "sorry-assed losers" to build discipline and respect and teamwork. "It's like a lesson for everybody who wants to get on with other people and help them be winners" is what I did say, and then I told him I thought his cock had Andy Jackson beat by a country mile, though I didn't tell him Andy was a bull, just let him think that Andy was an acquaintance of mine with a cock that up till then I had considered the biggest one I knew about.

Dick B. Long seemed to be pleased by what I said, but before we could get to talking some more about the team, Arnie butted in. "I hate pool shoots" is what he said, so I asked him why, and he told me that the light dancing on the water "fucks up all your values." He said I probably hadn't noticed, but when the black dude pulls out of Dick B. Long and opens up his valves, the "money shot" is what he called it was almost lost because the contrast with the skin of Dick B. Long's back and the stuff the black dude lets go on it is so washed out it's hard to see how really big a load the black dude dumped. I said I had been real impressed and now that I knew how hard it was to take pictures like that next to a swimming pool I was even more impressed and Arnie should be proud, too, of what he'd done.

Arnie said he hoped I was being truthful and when he turned on the light so that Dick B. Long could see to rewind his tape, he, Arnie, that is, looked at me and said he guessed I was, being truthful, that is, because it was plain to see that his photography had had an inspiring effect on me. I tried to laugh but I knew what he meant. In the tight sweat outfit which Jack had loaned me my own pecker had gotten adequate to the occasion and there was no way to hide it, my pecker, that is. "Looks like you've got a new fan, Dickiebird," is what Arnie said and he was smiling in a nice way, and Dick B. Long turned around and looked at me and he smiled, too, in a nice way, too.

I smiled back. What else was I going to do? And Arnie moved over to my chair and he looked at me real close and he looked at Dick B. Long. "What do you think, Dick B.? Couldn't the kid here be a back-up Twink if we had to like improvise, you know? Looks like he's got what it takes, I'd say" is what he said to Dick B. Long. Then he swung back to me and reached down the front of my outfit. "Do you mind if I just check things out?" is what he said, but by then he was pretty far along with the checking out so it was too late to say if I minded or I didn't mind and to be truthful I was too surprised to take offense even when Arnie pulled it, the outfit, that is, down to my knees, so that the parts of me that had been floating in the hot tub were sticking straight out and hanging down for Arnie and Dick B. Long to appreciate which is what they both did.

"That's a real pretty cock" is what Dick B. Long said.

"And check out his ass" is what Arnie said. "The kid is grade-A Twink material, Dickiebird, Grade-A prime. What do you say, kid? How would you like to get to know the Dickster here real well?"

I always try to be truthful. I was brought up that way and I have marks on my bottom from my momma's hairbrush and my dad's belt that don't exactly show no more, the marks, that is, but I know they're there and I know why. For when I hadn't been truthful. So I was getting ready to tell Arnie that I certainly felt a lot of admiration for Dick B. Long and was always ready to get to know people I admired, but if he meant did I want Dick B. Long to come at me with his ax handle of a cock, then I wasn't sure that my ass or any other part of me was adequate to the occasion.

I was looking for the right words to say how I felt without making Dick B. Long feel bad, but it turned out I didn't have to do any fancy footwork with my mouth because Dick B. Long came over to me and pulled my outfit back up my legs to where it covered most of me except my belly-button. Then he said to Arnie to stop blowing smoke which I didn't understand because Arnie didn't have no cigarette. "Get real, Arnie" is what Dick B. Long also said. "With all the footage of the Twink you've already took and all the contract language your sweetheart Bernie signed on to it would be a financial disaster" is the way he put it to use a back-up Twink with the Project "nearly in the can."

"Nothing against you, Seth" is what Dick B. Long said to me when he finished explaining what he called "the facts of life" to Arnie. "You've got what it takes, kiddo, I can see that." And feel it, too, is what he said, because his hand was smoothing and patting my behind like Luther had been smoothing and patting Uncle Buddy. I was real flattered that a Star remembered my name and so I thanked him and said I really would like to get to know him and maybe help him with the problem he was having that I could see was upsetting him. Arnie gave me a wink that I didn't totally understand and said he'd leave us to it and wished me luck, and me and Dick B. Long sat down on a big sofa there in the lounge of the X Bar L ranch resort and he commenced to tell me that the problem was with the Twink and it was driving him, Dick B. Long, that is, out of his mind is the way he expressed it.

The way he spelled it out was that the Twink was playing mind games with him because the Twink thought he, the Twink, that is, oughtta be the Star and Dick B. Long just part of the Supporting Cast because Dick B. had been around a while and everybody in the world already knew every inch of his cock by heart whilst the Twink was a discovery sensation who had so many hits on his web page he'd given up counting. I didn't understand all the words Dick B. Long used but I got his drift. I recollected how it had been when a neighbor asked my dad could he leave his young bull at our place for a day or two and my dad had said yes and Andy Jackson had gotten real worried and despondent and off his feed. So I thought I understood what was troubling Dick B. Long and I tried to cheer him up some by saying the Twink was dead wrong. Not everybody in the world knew every inch of his cock, Dick B. Long's cock, that is, by heart. I had just seen it for the first time is what I said and Uncle Buddy hadn't never seen it at all. "But I know he'd like to" is what I said "because it is a wonder of nature and it looks real good on you, Mr. Long" is more of what I said. All of which was truthful.

Dick B. Long thanked me, but what he said was that it could be a heavy burden to carry a wonder of nature down there between your legs since that's the only part of you some people took any interest in was how he put it and your other abilities and talents just got ignored. Like his voice. Dick B. Long said he had a real pleasant baritone and a wide reper-twar is the word he used of Broadway show tunes and country and western, but there was never no place for musical numbers in adult videos is what he complained and producers like Bernie only wanted to see him plowing some Twink's ass and all their asses looked the same by now and the thrill was pretty well gone so it was no wonder if now and then he couldn't get it up is what Dick B. Long told me with his real pleasant baritone choking up now and then.

Worst of all, and it was about here that Dick B. Long pulled me up against him and put his forehead down next to my neck and really did choke up, is when a pissant dickless wonder with a pretty face and a six-pack like some belly dancer says he don't want to spread his legs for me because he'll have to have plastic surgery on his asshole afterwards which his HMO won't pay for and besides he don't want to be topped by no growtesk has-been with hair growing on his back. All of which, Dick B. Long made real clear, was things the Twink, who Dick B. Long described as a pissant dickless wonder, had said about him, Dick B. Long, that is, and some of them to his face.

I told Dick B. Long he had no call to be so upset. I'd met truckdrivers is what I said that had hair on their backs and their shoulders so thick they hardly had to wear shirts except in the dead of winter and they wasn't the least bit growtesk. They was fully operational in my experience is what I said and some of them would have made Andy Jackson take notice even if they wasn't no competition for you, Dick B. Long, that is, is the way I tried to cheer him up.

At least he laughed when I finished, even if it was a pretty short laugh, more like a pleasant baritone bark, the kind that Sammy, my part-beagle, gives when I come home and he's glad to see me but still wonders where I've been. He, Dick B. Long, that is, not Sammy, said hair was alright on truckdrivers but bad news on a Star stud in the adult video business unless it was for a fetish film that he didn't want no part of because it would be the end of his career in the mainstream. Since I hadn't never heard of fetish films, I couldn't give much answer to Dick B. Long on that point so I just did some smoothing and patting of his back where the hair could be growing even though on account of his shirt, which was flannel and a nice plaid pattern, I couldn't tell if hair was really growing or not.

Dick B. Long patted and smoothed me back and I began to feel real close to him and unhappy for him that the pissant dickless wonder was driving him out of his mind and then I had a thought. Maybe it was provoked by Dick B. Long taking one of my hands and putting it down between his legs so I could feel how close to me he said he was beginning to feel. I knew from hitchhiking with truckdrivers what was probably coming next and even though it occurred to me that some time working on Dick B. Long's ax handle of a cock would make this day something I'd want to write up for my descendants to know about when I was dead, I truthfully felt that it was honor enough to have a Star want to do those things with me and that I'd prefer doing them with Jack who came into the X Bar L ranch resort's lounge just about then and said he had a fire burning in his cabin and not just in the fireplace neither and was I ready to come with him and get warm.

Which I was, ready, that is. I didn't want to give no offense, though, to Dick B. Long who was doing me the honor of holding my hand on a part of his jeans where I could feel his ax handle of a cock starting in to stretch out. Besides, Dick B. Long had said that the way the Twink was treating him was just about the most hurtful rejection a man of his position in the adult video industry could suffer and it was taking a terrible toll on his self-respect is what he said. Well, sir, that was it, wasn't it? is what I thought when Dick B. Long commenced to talk about respect. That is what he had taught those players in "Boys a-Simmer" to give him and it is what had made that story so inspiring.

So my idea was to find a way to make the Twink give Dick B. Long that kind of respect and I thought Uncle Buddy might just be able to help out in bringing the Twink around. I didn't want to spell it all out to Dick B. Long just then, though, but I did tell him I admired the way he was bearing up under such a burden of suffering and I wanted to do what I could to help him if he'd let me. Which was maybe not exactly the right thing to say because it caused him to put his hand between my legs and say he'd be grateful for my help and he had a fireplace in his cabin, too. He had a big hand, which was logical considering how big other parts of him was, and I enjoyed having him put it where he had put it, his hand, that is, whilst my hand could feel him growing and stiffening up inside his jeans. But I said I had been thinking about another kind of help and that I had an idea that might get the Twink to show Dick B. Long the respect he deserved and get with it as a team player is what I said. Since I was just a stray who'd wandered into this corral, the big-time film crew, that is, what I said is I thought I should tell Jack about my idea and see what he thought of it.

Dick B. Long looked at me not real pleased but not pissed-off neither like Princess Leia and what he said was he understood, but his head dropped down between his shoulders like it, his head, that is, had done in the hot tub and I could see his feelings was hurt and I had done the hurting. Which was the last thing I wanted to do. I really did respect him, so I took his hand off me and my hand off him and I got up off the sofa and went to where Jack was standing and whispered to him to go back to the cabin and bank the fire and I'd come along presently. Then I went back to the sofa and sat down real close to Dick B. Long and said I wanted to ask a favor if that was all right. Which he said it was, to ask a favor, that is, and what did I want.

I said I wanted to kiss him. I'd never kissed a Star is what I said and until today I never kissed nobody of the male persuasion. And besides, I really like you and respect you is what I told Dick B. Long and I was being truthful, and it would mean a lot to me to have a kiss of yours that I would always remember. Dick B. Long raised up his head then and he looked at me as if he wanted to be sure I was being truthful and he must have satisfied himself that I was because he put his arms around me and he put our mouths together and we kissed and he commenced to cry.

I felt real ashamed then because I hadn't wanted to make Dick B. Long cry. My idea had been to cheer him up and maybe show him some respect so that he'd feel better about himself and look what happened was our lips touched and that set him off to sobbing. So I started to say how sorry I was that I'd upset him and he said I hadn't, I'd made him happy and when he was happy sometimes he cried and he was the one who was sorry is what he said for confusing me. "I don't get kissed much" is what he said "at least not on the mouth and not by a smart, handsome youngster like you are, Seth," is the compliment he paid me. "Guys put their mouths on my prick a lot and sometimes on my butthole" is what he said "but that is not real, human contact like what you just did for me and I will always be grateful." And he sobbed some more and I used my fingers to brush some tears off his cheeks and I kissed him again, maybe a little harder than the first time, and I just held him close to me till he seemed to quieten down and pull the reins up on himself.

"Thank you, Seth" is what he said then and "you go talk with Jack now and tell him your idea and tell him, too, that he's lucky to have you doing his thinking for him." And he, Dick B. Long, that is, smiled. And I smiled back because I was so pleased that I'd gotten Dick. B. Long to smile at all considering how hangdog he'd been. He told me he'd watch himself some TV, probably, or maybe one of his other films, but he'd be all right on his own and it was thanks to me and Jack was lucky is what he said a second time and I'd better go now or he, Dick B. Long, that is, might change his mind about keeping our human contact to mouth kissing. And he smiled again and we had a hug without a kiss and I went to Jack's cabin where the fire was burning.

Jack was waiting for me by it, the fire, that is, and since it was warm there, he wasn't wearing much, just the smallest pair of underpants I'd ever seen that looked real good on him because they made his special attractions bunch out in a different way than from the way they had been when I last saw them and since there was just the firelight on them, his underpants and special attractions, that is, the flickering made things change size back and forth. It was very interesting and I thought it would have been a challenge for Arnie like by the pool only different. Jack gave me his real, warm smile when he saw where I was looking but he teased me, too, because he said he'd figured that I was the fickle type more than the fucking type and was probably sampling Dick B. Long's wares and wouldn't want to bother with him, Jack, that is, no more. To which I said I wasn't no fickle type at all and I hoped I was the fucking type and what was we waiting on is what I asked.

So we didn't wait any more time than it took Jack to get me out of the sweats he had gotten me into before supper and for me to get him out of those underpants that was all he had on and for both of us to get from the fireplace to the bed where I said I was the fucking type who liked being fucked and would he like to find out how much I liked it, being fucked, that is. He said he had a reasonable amount of curiosity on that point and would be glad to have a demonstration if I would let him demonstrate something he thought might come as a pleasant surprise for me. It was, the demonstration, that is, a very pleasant surprise since the surprise was having Jack put his tongue where I had never thought of a tongue getting put which was on my rear end and even in it, my rear end, that is. If Jack hadn't had his arms around my waist and his fingers around my pecker pretty tight, I wouldn't be surprised if I wouldn't have gone straight up off that bed onto the ceiling when Jack's tongue got put where it got put. Even if I hadn't worked Dick B. Long's axhandle of a cock after all, when Jack's tongue commenced working me I knew that the day had turned into one I would have to write down for my descendants to know about after I was dead. Which is why I am doing that, writing it down, that is, which you know because you are reading what I am writing.

The fucking part was worth writing about, too, because Jack and me fit together so good that he just put himself, not his tongue, that is, into me in one considerate, firm push that filled me right up without hurting me one bit. And the best of it was the things we said to each other whilst the fucking progressed about how much I liked having his cock in me and how good he said it felt to be there, inside me, that is, and how I had never felt so good having anybody fuck me the way he was fucking me and how he had never felt so right as he felt with my ankles around his neck and my eyes shining up at him so happy and smart. That was the best of being fucked by Jack, but almost as good was when we said the same things to each other when it got to be my turn to fuck him except, of course, he was the one saying how good my dick felt inside him and I was the one who said the light in his eyes made me feel I had found a real, close personal friend which I had always wanted and now had, and all on account of that elk.

We kissed a lot, too, not during the fucking that much but in between and afterwards and Jack said he meant it about what he had said before about us both living in the same part of the country. I said did he think he'd like it on a ranch, and he said did I think I'd like it in Venice, California which has a big beach and lots of good restaurants. And I said does it have police on bicycles in tight pants, the police, that is, or is that just something the TV made up and he said how would people on a ranch feel about men who couldn't ride horses and felt real close to other men. And I said could he ride a tractor and he said could I ride a bicycle and we started to laugh and to laugh and then went to kissing and to patting and to smoothing parts of each other till pretty soon we were all ready to get close to each other again.

Jack said it was my turn to go first and I said that was all right with me if I could get him to kneel up some so I could come at him from behind because I liked looking him in the eyes but I also liked slamming into his pretty butt the way we did it on the ranch with the heifers if the need was great. He asked was I joking and I said I was the most truthful person he'd ever meet and the truth was I wanted to fuck him without no more small talk. Jack said he'd take that as a compliment and he got up on his knees and his hands and said he was making me a present of his pretty butt and did I want him to moo. Only if he felt like it is what I said which is when I put my face against his pretty butt and my tongue where his tongue had been but in his butt, not in mine, that is, and he did moo while my tongue went at him but then he stopped and he quicklike rolled over and grabbed me and hugged me so tight I thought I almost wouldn't be able to breathe.

"Do you believe in love at first sight, Seth?" is what he asked me and he wasn't laughing and neither was I partly because I was concentrating on breathing. So I said I didn't have no experience of love but in most of the movies where people end up in love they start out not liking each other like Princess Leia and Han Solo, for one example. Jack said movies wasn't always like real life and he should know since he made movies and would I believe that he, Jack, that is, had fallen in love with me when I fell into his lap at the hot tub and could I fall in love with him is what he asked still hugging me real tight. I started to say that his first sight of me was not at the hot tub but then I thought that maybe he meant first sight one hundred percent naked which was at the hot tub so what I said was that if having him for my first real close personal friend and being in love with him were the same thing or almost the same thing that I already was in love with him and I hugged him as tight as he'd been hugging me.

It was Dick B. Long all over again. Jack started in to cry but he right off told me not to worry he was crying because he was happy. He had never been so happy is what he said and if nothing else good came from this retreat at the X Bar L ranch resort it wouldn't matter because he had found love and I was it. He kissed me about then and I kissed him back and I put out my tongue and mopped up the little tears that was on his cheeks and even though I'm not the silent type like Uncle Buddy I just couldn't say one single thing so I hugged Jack to me and he hugged me to him and I felt like we fitted together perfect even though both of us were big and stiff and the more we rubbed against each other the bigger and stiffer we got.

After a while Jack said he thought it was time he practiced some more on his mooing in case he had to pretend some day that he was a heifer on a ranch with me and was I about ready to fuck him was what he asked. I was, ready, that is, and I told him so and then I did it and he practiced his mooing till he got so good I told him he could pass for a heifer without no trouble and he wiggled his pretty butt under me and that was all it took to open my valves for real. Jack asked me had it been good and because I'm truthful I told him it had been better than good that it had been the best I'd ever known with or without no mooing and did being in love make fucking so amazing is what I asked. Being in love makes everything amazing is what Jack told me, and I think he's right.

It certainly made it amazing when he fucked me again even though he did it just the way we'd done it before because he said it was real important to him to look at my eyes whilst he plowed my ass. I didn't moo but I did cry which I hadn't done since Obi Wan Kenobi died on the Death Star and the crying I did whilst I looked up at Jack and felt him going deeper and deeper into me was because I was happy which I wasn't when I saw Obi Wan take that hit from the light sword. I was happy because I could see Jack's real warm smile and know that I was the reason for it. It was amazing and so was Jack's light sword if you want to call it that.

I even amazed myself a little while later when Jack said we should get cleaned up for bed and I said we was already in bed and he said he meant cleaned up for sleeping unless I absolutely had to have another fuck. To be truthful which is what I generally am I wouldn't have minded another fuck right then but I could see Jack didn't want to overdo things so I let him take me into the bathroom and into the shower and it was when he was doing nice things with a washcloth on my nuts that I amazed myself. I asked Jack could he get his razor and would he like to shave my nuts so that they'd be like his and shave other places I couldn't reach where he might like it if I didn't have no hair. Jack said I didn't have to do that for him, it was friends of his who was picky about hair is what he said.

But I said I loved him, Jack, that is, and I wanted to be the best I could be for him and if that meant having bald nuts it was the least I could do to make him as happy as he made me and to show how much I loved and respected him. Would it be all right if he did the barbering in the morning is what he asked when his hand would be steadier because love was making him shake all over just then and he didn't want to hurt anybody who loved and respected him the way I did. And then what he said was "Seth, baby, lover, sweeetheart, angel boy, nobody before has told me that he loved me and that he respected me, too. You are a miracle man and I am never going to let you go even if it means I have to learn to drive a tractor." And he turned off the shower water and we dried each other with towels and we brushed our teeth and we got back into the bed one hundred percent naked and wrapped ourselves around ourselves and I thought I had never felt so good in all my life and all I wanted was to be like that forever in the arms of a real close personal friend I loved and respected, too.

But thinking about being with Jack forever made me think about Dick B. Long and the idea I'd had about getting the Twink to respect him like the young players did in "Boys a-Simmer" and even though I was some fearful of spoiling things with Jack I said I had to tell him something before I forgot. Couldn't it wait till morning is what he asked me because right then his head was full of beautiful music coming from putting it, his head, that is, on my chest so he could listen to my heart beat which is what he said he wanted to do. And nothing else. I said please, it wouldn't take long and he wouldn't even have to move his head just keep one ear open while I talked. So he agreed but he gave me a little pinch just to show he liked touching me better than listening to me right then and I put my fingers in his pretty hair with the golden specks to show that I liked touching him too.

Then was when I told him about watching "Boys a-Simmer" with its Star and seeing how he had gotten the respect of his young players and turned them into a team and feeling inspired by that story. Jack didn't say nothing right then, but he kind of yawned which made me think I wasn't getting my idea out the way I ought to. So I said it distressed me some to see that Dick B. Long wasn't getting the Twink's respect like he should be considering that he, Dick B. Long, that is, was the Star and had a wonder of nature between his legs that could be a heavy burden like he'd told me. Jack yawned again which made me think I still wasn't getting my idea out so I just flat out asked him if he'd be interested in a way to get the Twink to respect Dick B. Long.

Let me tell you about the Twink is how Jack answered me. He is nothing but trouble and I don't know why Bernie ever signed him up for this Project. He is not a team player, the Twink is who Jack meant, and he will not make sacrifices for his Art the way all the rest of us has had to do. He doesn't respect Dick B. Long, who is a warhorse in the adult film industry, because he, the Twink is who Jack meant, doesn't respect anybody. He is a one-boy band who would like it best if he could just suck and fuck himself in front of a camera without no help from nobody else. And that fool Bernie let him put some fine print in his contract, the Twink's contract is what Jack meant, that protects him against "cruel and unusual punishment" and he says that Dick B. Long's cock is cruel and unusual and he won't let it anywhere near him. So, yes, is what Jack said, I'd be interested in a way to get the Twink to put out for Dick B. Long, because if he doesn't, I'll never get this Project in the can and my career will be over and I'll have to spend the rest of my life making public service announcement videos for the home pages of the mentally defective.

That was when I told Jack about Uncle Buddy and how he could go from zero to sixty so fast that it frightened the livestock and would sure as shit scare the Twink and make him, the Twink, that is, think twice about Dick B. Long. Right off, Jack was doubtful. He'd seen Uncle Buddy one hundred percent naked is what he said and he'd seen Dick B. Long and they wasn't playing in the same league. Your uncle is what Jack said is a real handsome young man but not a patch on you, meaning me, that is, and his cock may look like something special in Montana but in the adult film industry it's just run of the mill by the looks of it at the hot tub. He and the Twink would make a nice pair, come to think of it, is what Jack said, but as far as teaching the Twink a lesson, I have my doubts.

That's because you haven't seen it with your own eyes is how I answered him, but I'm pretty sure Luther has and all you have to do is ask him about Uncle Buddy. When Uncle Buddy, like I said, goes from zero to sixty as fast as the Starship Enterprise going into warp speed, he gets as big as a war club and, close to, his cock is almost as much a wonder of nature as Dick B. Long's. If you give the Twink a choice between Uncle Buddy and Dick B. Long, I just bet he'll choose the devil he knows.

How much will you bet? is what Jack asked.

All the hair on my nuts and other places you might like to take it from is what I answered.

Jack kissed me and he hugged me and he said he was sorry he'd ever told me about his picky friends and he loved me bald or hairy or in between and always would. I will check with Luther is what he said but I don't think I need to because I believe you and I think you may have solved our problem and saved me from a life of making public service announcements. Then he said we should go to sleep because he did some of his best work in his sleep and he was going to need to dream up a way to get the Twink into action with Uncle Buddy so that he, the Twink, that is, would come to respect Dick B. Long. I said I'd be glad to help if I could and would he sleep better if I held on to him or if he held onto me. He said he'd like to put his arms around me and his hands on some places on me and have me back up close to some places on him and that's how we went to sleep and pretty much how we woke up, too, except both of us were bigger and stiffer when we woke up then when we went to sleep.

I've got it is what Jack said when we woke up, and I know is what I said back and if you keep on squeezing it like that I'm going to remember this day almost the way I remember yesterday for the elk and the hot tub and other things. Would that be so bad is what Jack asked. No, not bad, is how I answered but it might not be as satisfying for you as I'd like it to be and if it gets to be a habit every morning we wake up together I'll have a headstart on the day and you'll be running behind. Jack laughed and stopped the squeezing and climbed up over me and kissed me on the mouth and then on other places like under my ears and around my bellybutton and said he'd like to make a habit of waking up together and he once rode a pony at a petting zoo and even though he was just six years old at the time he wasn't scared and maybe riding a horse wouldn't be so bad.

What's a petting zoo is what I asked and Jack said it was where he was going to keep me if the idea he had that was what he'd been talking about when he said I've got it worked out right. What you'd got was my prick is what I said and you're welcome to it but I don't see how it counts as much of an idea. The idea is your Uncle Buddy's prick is how Jack cleared up my confusion and I'm going to get the Twink to think he's giving it a screen test as a replacement prick for the one on Dick B. Long that everybody knows by heart. If your Uncle Buddy performs the way you say he does, the Twink will be caught between a rock and hard place and I will be able to pet you for the rest of my days. In fact, Jack said, I'd like to start right now if that's all right with you.

I said it was, all right, that is, as long as I got to do some petting back and Jack agreed to my conditions and it was the nicest start to my day I'd ever had. Being in love is what makes everything amazing. That's what Jack had said. And he was right.

He was right about the screen test, too. I told Uncle Buddy it would be a wrestling match with the Twink, and Uncle Buddy said it was all right with him if it was all right with Luther and Luther talked with Jack who smiled a lot while they were talking and then he, Luther, that is, said it was all right with him, and the Twink even said it was all right with him. At least he said that after he talked with Jack who didn't smile a lot and talked about "breach of contract" and how hard it could be to find work in the adult film industry if you didn't make sacrifices for your Art. Of course, the Twink thought it was just a screen test and Uncle Buddy thought it was just a wrestling match and not even a real one except that the winner, which is what he was sure to be, would get to fuck the loser.

When Uncle Buddy got his special parts squinched up into a leather sack and a chain clipped to the collar on his neck and his skin all shined up with baby oil or something, it's true he did get a little nervous. He got truly pissed off when Arnie hauled out the big movie camera, and Luther had to come and calm him down, Uncle Buddy, that is, because of his modest streak. It all took a while but finally Jack motioned to Luther and Luther held a board up in front of Arnie's camera and took it away and Jack said "Action" and I unclipped the leash from Uncle Buddy's collar and Dick B. Long, who had been holding the Twink on another leash, let go of that and Uncle Buddy and the Twink went for each other. It was a sight to see and if you're lucky you may see it someday because Jack says it's the finest screen test he's ever directed.

The Twink turned out to be better at wrestling than you would have thought. He didn't just have good muscles. He had speed, too, and he was tricky, but Uncle Buddy was a high-school champion and he had a few pounds on the Twink and determination besides. So he was the first to snap the Twink's string that was holding up the sack where the Twink's parts was all squinched up and once the Twink's pecker was waving around he seemed so concerned that it might get hurt he kind of put his attention more on that than on Uncle Buddy. Still, he did get Uncle Buddy's leather sack off him, too, but by then Uncle Buddy had the Twink pretty near pinned and didn't mind so much that he, Uncle Buddy, that is, was one hundred percent naked in front of a movie camera.

Luther was rooting for him and so was I and Uncle Buddy grinned up at the both of us which is when the Twink tried to grab his pecker, Uncle Buddy's pecker, that is, and his nuts and Uncle Buddy, just like you'd expect if you knew him, went right then from zero to sixty with the result that his pecker was laying right across the Twink's face and between his eyes when just a second or two before what there was of it had been resting on his chest, the Twink's chest, that is.

"Son of a bitch" is what Bernie said. "Don't drop the camera. Keep shooting." is what Jack said to Arnie who seemed like he might let go of everything. "Holy Mother of God" is what Dick B. Long said and I saw him make the sign of the cross on himself. The Twink didn't say anything you could understand at first. He just screeched and if he'd had pants on I honestly think he'd have pissed them he was so surprised and scared shitless and just plain undone. Then he started to say "no" and "no" and "please God, no" and after a while he yelled for somebody to save him and he got real precise and asked Dick B. Long to save him and he promised Dick B. Long that he'd be good and that he'd respect Dick B. Long if he, Dick B. Long, that is, would just get this monster is what he called Uncle Buddy or Uncle Buddy's pecker, it wasn't exactly clear, off of him.

That was when Jack motioned to Luther again and Luther tapped Uncle Buddy on the shoulder and said to let him up, the Twink, that is, and Uncle Buddy asked when he was going to get to fuck him, the Twink, that is, and maybe later is what Luther said but I'd like to be with you just now and Uncle Buddy smiled and got up off the Twink and him and Luther kind of strolled away. Which meant that they missed what happened next which was that the Twink who was shaking all over crawled to Dick B. Long and grabbed him around the ankles and started to beg him, Dick B. Long, that is, to forgive him for being so mean and unprofessional is what he actually said. Dick B. Long didn't say anything but he did reach down and pat the Twink on his hair and then he pulled the Twink up so he was on his feet, the Twink's feet, that is, and he just hugged him until the Twink stopped shaking all over. Which is when Jack said "Cut," and Arnie put the camera down, and Jack came over to me and gave me a kiss and said I was a genius and had saved him from a life of public service announcements and if there was ever anything he could do for me he wanted to do it.

I said I was sure I'd think of something if he gave me the time and he said he'd give me all the time in the world and I think he was being truthful. But right then he said he had to get the footage of Dick B. Long and the Twink that he needed to put this Project in the can and would I go find Luther and tell him to get his ass back here and bring some of Dick B. Long's custom-made condoms with him or he wouldn't be no Best Boy much longer. I found Luther pretty easy because of the noise he was making and I gave him Jack's message but with my back turned because of Uncle Buddy's modest streak. And I waited till Uncle Buddy was the one making noises and then I waited some more till he stopped and Luther pulled up his jeans and left and I said to Uncle Buddy we had to talk which we did.

It turned out that we agreed about the elk. It had done us both a favor which was to send us walking to meet Jack and Luther who were now our real close personal friends that we had never either one of us had before and didn't want to let loose of. What we didn't agree about was what to do next. I thought we ought to hitchhike back home and say proper goodbyes to our mommas and our dads and the rest of our kin and the hands on the place and the heifers and even Cheryl from the homemakers' course and young Jimmy Santangelo and then meet up with Jack and Luther back at the X Bar L ranch resort or wherever they was going. Uncle Buddy said we could just write letters home and that he wasn't leaving Luther right after he'd just found him, all thanks to that elk. Didn't he love his momma and my granddad is what I asked and he said he did but not the same as he loved Luther who along with everything else had said he would make him, Uncle Buddy, that is, famous if he would just get over his modest streak. So we argued some but we was both too happy to get really pissed off and Uncle Buddy said that after all he guessed I didn't have shit for brains and that I would always be his favorite nephew whatever happened.

It was that kind of a day right up to supper time and afterwards. When the footage was in the can, Luther came and got us and took us to where Bernie was waiting to talk to Uncle Buddy. This Project is wrapped up is what he, Bernie, that is, said, but we have to think about the future and kiddo, is what he said to Uncle Buddy, you are it, the future, that is. I want to sign you to a six-picture contract and make you famous is what Bernie said but you'd better get an agent because you don't know shit from shinola about the adult film industry.

"I got one" was Uncle Buddy's answer and he pointed to Luther "and from now on you talk to him. We're a team."

Bernie went a little pale but he gave Luther a real, warm smile and took his elbow and walked him into one of the cabins and they was there quite some time but I didn't hear no shouting nor no glass breaking so I guess things went well. Which is how they went with the Twink and Dick B. Long too now that the misunderstanding between them had been patched up and the Twink had shown Dick B. Long the respect he deserved, Dick B. Long, that is. They got so close that after supper they sang together for the rest of us and Dick B. Long did have a real pleasant baritone and the Twink could carry a tune and Bernie said it might be a first in the adult film industry to have the Star and the Twink sing while they was fucking but he doubted he could get the financing for it.

Jack and I had a lot of time to ourselves and we used it pretty good finding out important things about each other like that he was a Pisces and I was a Leo and that we both liked "Law and Order" and "Ally McBeal" but not Ricky Martin nor Ross Perot. We walked a ways on the land of the X Bar L ranch resort and come on a working barn with some horses in it and I gave Jack a riding lesson that was shorter than it might have been and he said he'd teach me how to surf and I said he'd have to teach me how to swim first and he said he wanted to see me in a tight little bathing suit and one thing led to another.

I guess it's going to go on leading to things for quite some time. Being in love makes everything amazing is what Jack says. And I agree.