Date: Tue, 22 Apr 2014 18:53:33 -0700 (PDT)
From: Macout Mann <macoutmann@yahoo.com>
Subject: Aaron 6

This story is about a group of high school boys and involves explicit
homosexual sex.  Be warned that in the course of the story there are one or
two encounters between teens and adults.  If you are underage or find such
subject matter objectionable, please read no further.

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Copyright 2014 by Macout Mann.  All rights reserved.



                                   AARON

                               by Macout Mann



                                    VI

                              Going to Florida


Sure enough the following Thursday we all got together in the rec room with
a guy I'd never seen before.  He was about forty-five.  Wore a golf shirt
and jeans with a baseball cap that had some sort of film company logo on
it.  He also had a standard portable video camera mounted on a steadicam.

I was real interested in the setup.  Mark told me the steadicam kept the
hand-held shots smooth. That way the new shots could be intercut with
footage they already had so it would look like everything was shot at the
same time.

The cameraman worked from a "shot sheet."  They already knew what sort of
closeups they needed, so he got me and each of the other guys on the mat
and told us what to do: suck, fuck, or make out.  He moved around and got
the shots he wanted each time.  It was all very professional.  In an hour
we were done.

The other guys all took off, but Mark said he needed to talk to me.  So I
stayed.

Mark offered me a beer, and said "My dad's out of town—seems like he's
gone a lot of the time—but he wanted me to tell you he's glad you
decided to do the videos.  But he also wants to be absolutely certain that
you are comfortable doing it.  You can still back out with no hard
feelings, but once the first video is on the market it'll be too late."

"I aint got any problems with it," I replied.

"Good," Mark said.

"Does your dad look at the video?" I asked.

"I'm sure he looks at some of the finished stuff," Mark responded.  "We
have a copy of each dvd here at the house.  But he don't look at the raw
footage from the hidden cameras, if that's what you mean.

"He's bi, but he's not a perv."

"You and he ever...?"

"Shit, no!  I know he fucks around with guys—and gals too for that
matter—but we've never so much as jacked off together."

"Well, I was just curious.  I didn't mean to..."

"Forget about it, man.  There aint nothing we can't talk about."

I finished my beer, put my clothes back on, and headed home.  On the way it
occurred to me that that was the first time I'd been with Mark at his house
that he hadn't been naked.



Mark also wasn't naked several days later when he knocked on my door.  It
was about five o'clock.  He said he'd wanted to come by, and I invited him
in.  We went to my room.  And we did mess around, but basically he just
said he had wanted to come and see me.

My dad had come home about six, and when Mark said he needed to get back to
his place, Dad was having his usual one martini in the library before Sarah
served dinner.  When we came downstairs, Mark saw Dad and went in to
introduce himself.  He was his usual charming self, and Dad was suitably
impressed.

"He's a really nice young man," Dad told me.  "I still don't understand why
an older boy like him would befriend you and Jerry.  It wouldn't have
happened when I was in high school."

I knew perfectly well why, of course, but I just said, "I don't know why,
either, Dad, but I'm sure glad he did."

"Have you decided to go with them over Thanksgiving?"

"I will, if you don't mind.  It'll be the first Thanksgiving we've been
apart."

"Oh, I can find something to occupy my time," Dad chuckled.



The following week I got a "room" text from Mark setting up a meeting
before school.  Turned out he wasn't looking to mess around.  He gave me a
big envelope that had everything I needed to set up my online bank account.
I had to fill out a lot of stuff and send it to a Bank of America branch in
Kansas City.  Otherwise everything was pretty routine until Thanksgiving
break began.

The Estes, driving a seven passenger van, picked me up at six-thirty in the
morning on the Sunday before Thanksgiving.  We had the whole week off from
school.  I hugged "goodbye" to Dad, and we drove across Bethesda to pick up
Jerry, Ben, and Anthony.  Then we went up to Thurgood Marshall Airport,
that is, Baltimore-Washington International.  My first surprise was that
instead of going to one of the airlines, we headed to the general aviation
terminal.  We were going to fly in a corporate jet Mr. Estes had the use
of.  It was already waiting.

The plane was really neat.  Had really comfortable seats that would swivel.
A good sized galley.  Even a private compartment for Mr. and Mrs. Estes to
use.  Best of all was a hot steward who said he'd take care of all our
needs.  He couldn't have been older than twenty-five or twenty-six.  Dark
hair and eyes, and a little moustache.  Said his name was Carl.

The pilot said we'd be in the air a little over five hours, and we took off
a little after nine.

As soon as we had leveled off, Carl fixed breakfast for us.  Nothing fancy
but really delicious.  Freshly squeezed juice, wonderful cheese Danish, and
coffee.

After eating, we still had four and a half hours to go.  Carl said that he
had soft drinks and nuts for us whenever we wanted some.

"What kind of nuts?" Mark asked, grabbing his crotch.

"The kind young guys like best," Carl replied.  He grabbed his too.  He was
wearing tailored black trousers that showed a nice bulge.  "But Mr. Estes
also said that since we were going to Florida, I could fix each of you a
mimosa before lunch."

"Aint that a woman's drink?" Ben asked.

"Not necessarily," Carl answered.  "Besides, the way I fix `em, they've got
plenty of punch."

The exchange between Mark and Carl about nuts led to a lot of raucous sex
talk.  That didn't lead to sucking or fucking, but there was a lot of
clawing of cocks.  And Carl didn't hesitate to join the fun.

Around eleven-thirty, Carl made two pitchers of mimosas.  He took the
smaller one back to Mr. and Mrs. Estes, then poured up a drink for each of
us boys.  "It may be a `woman's drink,' Ben, but they still taste good,"
Jerry chided.

We continued our chatter, until Mark announced that his parents would come
into the main cabin and join us for lunch.  Talk became much more subdued.

Lunch started with the most delicious soup any of us boys, except for Mark,
had ever tasted.  Mrs. Estes said it was called Vichyssoise and it was made
with potatoes and leeks.  I could see that neither Jerry nor Ben had any
idea what leeks were, but they gobbled the soup down anyway.  Jerry said it
was the first time he'd ever had cold soup.  Then Carl served Shrimp
Remoulade, made with boiled shrimp the almost the size of scampi, covered
with a homemade remoulade sauce.  And for desert a Chocolate Cream Pie
flavored with orange zest.  It was all to die for.

All of us were stuffed by the end of the meal.  "I hope there's a gym where
we're going," I said.  "We're going to need to work out, if we're going to
eat this well all week."

Mark's parents both laughed appreciatively, then left us for the forty-five
minutes or so before we landed.  We generally spent it just relaxing.

The plane touched down at the grandly named St. Lucie County International
Airport.  Actually, it is a fairly small general aviation facility with no
passenger terminal at all.  It can receive international private,
corporate, and charter flights, however; and I guess that said something
about the neighborhood we were arriving in.

We all disembarked, and Carl said it had been a pleasure to have us on
board and that he would see us on the return trip.  Waiting on the taxiway
were two large SUVs from Enterprise Rent-a-Car.  Enterprise isn't open on
Sunday, but the Estes are such good customers that the manager and one of
his agents came to pick us up anyway.

Mr. Estes made quick work of the inspection that Enterprise requires of all
customers, signed the paperwork that the manager had brought, and ordered
Mark and the rest of us boys into one of the SUVs.  The four adults would
go in the other.

"We have some errands to run," Mr. Estes said, "and we'll drop these
gentlemen back at their office on the way.  See you at the cottage a little
later, boys."

As we were loading our bags in the SUVs, our plane fired up its engines and
sped away.

"They didn't refuel?" Mark called to his dad.

"No," Mr. Estes answered, "they're picking up Madison in Miami.  They'll
refuel at Miami International."

The five of us climbed in and with Mark at the wheel we headed a few miles
south to Hutchinson Island.  We crossed a causeway from the mainland and
turned south on Ocean Drive.

As we drove along, Jerry asked, "So what's with this Carl dude?"

"Oh, he's been on the plane about three years now.  Was a flight attendant
on Delta before that.  I think he may have been fired for coming on to the
wrong guys, but he says it was downsizing.  Anyway, he's a lot of fun.
I've been with him a couple of times.  He says he's messed around with my
dad, when Mom hasn't been along.  Depending on what time we go back, we may
get to play around with him next Sunday.  At lease more than a feel up."

"I'd sure as shit like to suck his dick," Tony chimed in.  Always horny.

Several more miles down the narrow barrier island and we arrived at a cull
de sac containing the Estes "cottage."  It was a sprawling six bedroom
house that contained almost everything anyone would ever need, except a
gym.  But even so, it had some workout equipment.

"The master bedroom's off limits," Mark said, "but you each need to pick a
bedroom.  This one's always mine.  We won't be using them solo, I know, but
we need to keep up appearances.

"By the way, the folks will be staying here mostly during the day, but
they'll be sleeping down at the Island Beach Resort.  They have friends
who're staying there, and I guess they don't want to cramp our style
either."

We all laughed.

There was no problem in choosing rooms.  We all just selected the one we
were closest to.  Then we unpacked our things.  Not much to unpack.  We had
been told to bring swimming gear, t shirts, shorts, and one casual dress
outfit, which could be something like a polo and jeans without holes in
them.  Since it could sometimes get nippy at night in late November,
something like a windbreaker might be good, just in case.  None of us
thought underwear would be necessary.

Actually, it was in the mid-seventies and some of us were already hot to
hit the beach, but Mark suggested we wait until after dinner.

Not long afterward, Mr. and Mrs. Estes arrived.  They brought groceries and
pizza.  "We have all sorts of breakfast stuff that you boys can fix for
yourselves," Mrs. Estes announced.  "We're having most lunches and dinners
catered.  Tonight Jack and I are having dinner with friends."

Before they left, Mr. Estes whispered to me, "By the way, you might want to
borrow Mark's computer and check your bank balance."

I was intrigued.

There were three kinds of pizza.  We had our fill, and then got into our
swim suits.  I wore my team gear.  Anthony wore a thong.  Winston wore
regular trunks.  The others wore Speedos.

Fifteen minutes later we headed across to the ocean side of the island.
The sun would soon be setting and the tide was going out.  We grab-assed on
the beach and splashed around in the surf until after dark.

"Let's go skinny dipping and then head back to the house," Mark called.

There was no one else nearby.  In fact the beach was almost deserted.  We
all stripped and played around in the receding water for ten minutes or so.
The water was feeling colder, so on Mark's say, we jogged across the
highway to the cottage.

Once there we washed the salt out of our swimming gear and hung it up to
dry.  We also showered the salt off our bods.  None of us put on clothes.
We were ready to play.

"I want you to sleep with me," Mark said.

"Your dad said I should borrow your computer to check my bank account," I
replied.

"Come on, then," he said.

The other three guys found a bedroom to share, and the house settled down
for the night.

When I opened my bank account on Mark's computer, I was amazed.  My account
already had almost three thousand dollars in it.  Looking over my shoulder,
Mark commented, "Not bad pay for just fucking around, is it?"

He reached over my shoulders and gently massaged my chest.  I felt his
teeth just as gently nibble my neck.  I reached back to clutch his legs.
That's when he turned off the computer and led me to the bed.

"I want to drink your jizz and then fuck your ass," Mark whispered.  "I'm
so fucking horny I could rape an alligator."

 And then his lips grabbed hold of my dick.  It was like I'd stuck it in a
vacuum hose.  He was so passionate.

As he sucked me, his hands roamed over my body, tweaking my nipples,
spearing my navel, finger-fucking my mouth, and finally piercing my ass.
He was hot for my cum, and I hadn't dropped a load since sometime
yesterday.  I gave it to him in four or five blasts.  He shared some with
me as our lips met and our tongues intertwined.

We lay close for several minutes and then I realized that he still vaguely
tasted of the sea.  I licked him thoroughly everywhere my tongue could
reach.

"Yeah," he murmured.  "Nothing like a spit bath.  Somebody else's spit."
He licked my pec and said, "You didn't get rid of all the salt, either.
Maybe we should start peddling salted dick."

I loved his sense of humor.  He begin to lick me as thoroughly as I was
licking him, ending up with his tongue up my ass.  It wasn't long before I
had been lubed and flipped on my back with my feet on Marks shoulders with
his dick plunging in and out of my hole.  Damn, did he know what he was
doing!  I watched his face glow with the satisfaction that only great sex
can give.

Then I felt lips on my dick and saw that Tony had slipped into the room and
joined the party.  Aint nothing like getting it from two directions at
once.

All three of us got the relief we were seeking.  Tony said he was going
back to play with the other fellows.  But as he was leaving, he asked,
"When are we going to make a movie?"

"Beginning tomorrow, dude," Mark replied.

Yeah, I remembered Mark had said something about that.  But fuck it.  At
the rate my dick and ass were producing cash, who gives a shit what I'm
getting into?