Date: Mon, 21 Aug 2006 00:48:52 -0400
From: carl_mason@comcast.net
Subject: HOBO TEEN - 11

Copyright 2006 by Carl Mason

All rights reserved.  Other than downloading one copy for strictly personal
enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any
form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, except for reviews, without
the written permission of the author.  However based on real events and
places, "Hobo Teen" is strictly fictional.  Any resemblance to actual
events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.  As
in real life, however, the sexual themes unfold gradually.  Comments on the
story are appreciated and may be addressed to the author at
carl_mason@comcast.net

This story contains descriptions of sexual contact between males, both
adults and teenagers.  As such, it is homoerotic fiction designed for the
personal enjoyment of legal, hopefully mature, adults.  If you are not of
legal age to read such material, if those in power and/or those whom you
trust treat it as illegal, or if it would create unresolvable moral
dilemmas in your life, please leave.  Finally, remember that maturity
generally demands safe sex.

This story is highly indebted for its inspiration and many of its details
to the book Riding the Rails; Teenagers on the Move During the Great
Depression by Errol Lincoln Uys.  New York: Routledge, 2003, and the
award-winning documentary film by Michael Uys and Lexy Lovell, Riding the
Rails, produced by WGBH Educational Foundation, Boston, 2005.


CHAPTER 11

(Revisiting Chapter 10)

By now, many in the gathering realized that Cy had shared some of the
experiences about which the troubadour had been singing.  He enjoyed the
evening even more as they crowded around him, asking penetrating questions
and expecting thoughtful answers.  He withdrew only when he saw (a clothed)
Pete Cornish signaling that he was about to leave and wanted to speak for a
moment.

"I'm having a little party over at my house Friday night...nothing
special," Peter announced.  "My friends and I would very much enjoy your
coming."  "Well, yeah, that'd be great.  Thanks a lot Pete!" bubbled an
exultant Gloucester teen.  "One of us will pick you up outside around 8:00
and take you home...whenever," Pete added, grinning.  "Real happy you can
come!"

(Continuing Our Story - 3.2)

"My brother Jake's holding the fort," a grinning Pete said to Cy as the
Gloucester teen climbed into his old Model T.  "It seemed best to pick you
up myself because I'm not sure how much chance we'll have to talk when we
get to the house."  "Man, I've really been looking forward to coming over
and meeting your friends," Cy exclaimed.  "Thanks loads, Pete!"  "No
problem, amigo.  It's gonna be a small group of close friends...maybe ten
or twelve.  I already know you'll like them!  Nothing stronger to drink
than 3.2 [beer that returned with the end of Prohibition]... dancing and
indoor swimming."  "Wow, Pete, sounds great!" the younger teen responded.
"I've already got a couple of problems, though.  Might as well tell you.  I
didn't realize I needed to bring a swimsuit and I don't know how to dance."
With a wide grin, the athletic looking twenty year-old looked across the
car and responded, "No problem, Cy.  We don't wear suits, and I'll teach
you the basics of dancing myself."  The curly-haired one grinned in relief.
As they pulled into the driveway, Pete added one additional note.  "All of
us are old friends, Cy, and the three of us who met you think you would fit
in real well.  The fact is that at our parties we rarely wear clothes
whether swimming, dancing, or doing anything else when we're by ourselves.
We all know enough to keep our mouths shut.  It's fun, it's sexy, and it
avoids a lot of competitive bullshit.  Can you live with that...or even buy
into it?  Believe me, no one's forcing you, and no one's going to scream if
you leave some clothes on.  Before I forget it, hard-ons are a fact of
life.  They may call for an affectionate pat or even a respectful squeeze,
but nothing more."  Pausing, Cy finally said, "I may find it a little
uncomfortable at first, Pete, but I think that I want to handle it just the
way you do.  I appreciate your trust." Slowly he tightened his hand around
Pete's which had just turned off the key in the ignition.  Pete looked into
his eyes, grinned, and quietly breathed, "Yeah!"

Pete's younger brother, Jake - still a junior in high school - was a
complete clown...one of the funniest guys Cy had ever met.  Naturally, he
met others as they arrived: nine boys besides himself and two girls, Mattie
and Susan.  Others were arriving all the time as people left to go into one
of the service rooms off the pool in the entertainment wing of the house,
strip down, and return.  Pete introduced him to everyone as they arrived,
indicating that he was the guy whom Randy, Logan, and he had met at the
Literati Society and really liked.  Finally, when all the others) had
arrived, the two of them stripped and then (at least in Cy's case) walked
tentatively out onto the pool deck.  Try as he might to relax, Cy knew that
he was being watched...closely...and suspected that the collective gasp was
for him, by and away the best built stud at the party!

The other kids crowded around, trying their very best to make him feel
welcome and to do an early scan for commonalities in their experience.
They were clearly a touchy- feely crowd.  Within moments he had felt them
brush his biceps, his pecs, his forearms, his thighs, his buttocks.  Susie
had even placed the palm of her open hand on his abs, looked up into his
eyes, and laughed prettily.  Finally, Logan took pity on him, came over,
and extricated him from the mob for a few minutes of football talk.  Randy
also collared him, asking if the rumor were true that he had personally met
the shaman who had appeared at the recent Society meeting.  Lot of rumors
were going around, but he didn't sense a negative decision...yet.  Moments
later, Peter stopped by and escorted him into one of the side rooms.
"Gonna open up the dancing and the swimming in a few minutes, bro.  Thought
you would like that quick dance lesson I promised you," he said pleasantly.
"By the way, everyone already thinks you're neat and hopes to see you
around our fun and games again."  "That's great, Pete.  Maybe it will
balance your finding out that I have four left feet!"  "Nah!" Pete
responded.  "Dr. Dance has never lost a customer!"

Cy gulped, took the proffered arm, and quickly began to discover that
holding and being held by another muscular male beat anything he had
experienced previously.  He also discovered as a natural athlete that he
sensed the rhythm quickly, and it wasn't long before Pete had taught him
some foxtrot basics and even a few steps from the Charleston.  Perhaps he
most enjoyed simply swaying to the rhythm as the couple moved around the
floor.  As Pete reached down and cupped his heavy balls, the boy groaned
softly.  Eyes closed, his head tilting backwards, the Adam's apple in his
thick neck jerked spasmodically as Pete lightly scraped his fingernails
over his buttocks.  Finally, as the sweat began to drip down both their
bodies, Pete put his cheek next to his and tightened his arms.  "That's it
for this time, Big Guy.  Maybe some more later..."  he sighed.  He was hard
erect.

Once again out on the pool deck, our eastern teen discovered the next drill
was pretty straightforward.  You swam and/or splashed around in the large
pool, you dried off thoroughly, and then you and your chosen partner went
into another adjoining room (open and visible to the pool) to dance.
Individuals and/or small groups were always free to rest on the many
comfortable lounges or chairs and eat and drink to their heart's content.
Nice party...  Gloucester fish that he was, Cy jumped into the pool early
on and paddled delightedly around, saying hi to the others, splashing a
little water here and there, and the like.  As he sat on the side of the
pool some minutes later, Randy, a gorgeous blond and a freshman member of
Peter's college gymnastics team, came over and asked him if he'd like to
dance.

The music was soft and slow; Randy was very willing.  They moved together
with great grace.  Lightly licking his neck, Cy found the smells of the
eighteen year-old's body to be irresistible.  He then began to find out
what Pete "saw" in buttocks.  As his two hands massaged Randy's firm
globes, both boys gasped and began to erect.  When it could no longer be
concealed, the youngster giggled, winked at Cy, and suggested that they sit
for a few minutes and enjoy a Coke.  Still at half-mast, Cy was following
the blond off the floor when he was set upon by the two girls.  Each
grabbed a hand and began twirling the hunk around in a circle.  Someone
removed the slow platter and replaced it with some hot gypsy music.
Beginning to get into the game, Cy laughed wildly as he whirled, allowing
the girls to raise his muscular arms towards the ceiling.  The youth knew
full well, however, that he was reaching his point of no return.  As the
music reached a new level of madness, the girls began running their hands
seductively up and down his body.  Laughing their fool heads off, they
twined their bodies around his, effectively hiding most of his raging
erection.  With the last beat of the music, they dramatically showered
kisses on him as the crowd broke into mocking applause and cheers.  Mouth
open, bent over with his hands on his thighs, his chest heaving
convulsively, the muscular youth waved weakly in their direction.

At some point during the party, Pete came over and laughingly asked if Cy
now understood why Mattie and Susan were always welcome.  "Yeah," Cy
kidded, "kinda like my deadly little sister all grown up!"  Continuing his
instruction, Peter also asked if Cy had noticed that everyone knew when to
stop...and did so before there was an "accident" or someone was seriously
embarrassed.  Cy had already gotten that message!  When the party finally
broke up around 2:00 a.m., Peter told Jake that he would take Cy home.
Thanking his brother, the boy yawned and headed upstairs.  Offered a cup of
coffee and realizing that he had quaffed a bit too much beer, Cy accepted.
As they sat in the kitchen, sipping the hot brew, Peter exclaimed that he
really hoped the Cy would consider making a contribution along with Randy,
Logan, and him to the meetings of the Literati Society.  "Let's face it,
Cy, you're impossibly handsome, your personality is fantastic, you've got a
build for which gods would become mortal, and you're hung in a way that's
going to keep me hard for months!  In terms of sheer beauty, I've never
seen a painting that's your equal."  Blushing crimson, the teen looked down
into his coffee and mumbled softly, "I think those words describe you
better than me, Pete, but I'll think on it."  "Cy," his host continued, "I
sure don't want to make you uncomfortable on your first night as a member
of this gang, but I've been out of my mind since you first saw me with that
damned tray of drinks.  It's really painful tonight.  If you don't have to
be home before a certain hour, would you like to stay for a while before I
drive you home?"  Cy looked at him quietly, swallowed, and softly murmured,
"Yeah."

Upstairs on Pete's bed, the two boys writhed in a passion that was already
well fired.  The burning kisses delayed by the party covered every inch of
their bodies.  Sweat poured down face, chest, and back.  Pete finally
cried, "I've got to have you, Cy!"  As the Gloucester teen settled on his
back, raised his legs, and pulled them way back towards his chest, Pete
began even more vigorously to kiss and lick the teen's genitals, gradually
working back onto his perineum and into his crack.  His tongue dug deep
into his opened anus until he tasted the boy's essence.  Cy actually seemed
to be pushing his body onto his tongue.  Taking a gel, he covered his
fingers and thrust the first slowly through Cy's anus and into the interior
of his body.  Gently, he helped the muscles to soften and give way.  "Oh,"
the teen gasped.  "Oh, that's wonderful, but go slow, Red.  It's my first
time for real."  "Oh, wow," Pete responded and became even more careful.  A
second lubed finger followed (introducing Cy to his prostate), and then a
third.  Cy was now grunting and actively pushing back against Peter's
fingers that stretched ever deeper and ever wider.  Placing his lubed cock
against Cy's gateway, Pete gave a slight push.  "Ah, Pete, easy does it."
Waiting a moment, Peter gently, but insistently, pushed forward.  He had to
stop one more time to let the lad get used to the new order, but he soon
continued only to find that he had bottomed out.  His balls in contact with
the teen's buttocks, he slowly withdrew, paused, and surged forward again
until his cock brushed against Cy's prostate.  Moaning with delight, the
boy roughly tugged at the reddish blond hairs on Pete's chest and cried,
"More, Pete.  For God's sake, more!"  Amidst the passionate sounds of an
ancient dance - a dance that seems to demand no instruction - the couple
rocked back and forth.  Finally, of course, the boy's cock exploded,
covering both of them with thick cum, and Pete's organ swelled even more
and thrust a seemingly unending stream of life into his lover's body.  The
youngsters lay side by side, catching their breath and exchanging an
occasional kiss.  Pete was finally able to gasp, "How was that for your
first time, buddy?"  Finding it hard to swallow, Cy could only choke out,
"Oh, wow!"

(The Call of Two Saints)

Cy did in fact join Pete, Randy, and Logan in offering their gift of
youthful beauty at the very next meeting of the Literati Society.  Therein
lies a rather nice, if a rather brief tale.  As their relationship slowly
matured, Cy gradually became more comfortable with Ward.  Nevertheless, on
a day some two weeks after the party, it was a somewhat embarrassed young
man who crept into Ward's office to speak with him.  "Sir," he called.
"Yes, my boy."  "Sir, I've spoken on several occasions with Peter, Randy,
and Logan about their contribution to the Literati Society."  "Yes," his
mentor responded.  "Like them, I can't be there because I've written a
great book or composed some super songs," Cy began, "and, frankly I'm
embarrassed to be there JUST because I'm your friend.  I can be there,
however, in order to offer one of the few gifts I do have...myself.  Would
it bother you if I served in the nude like the others?"  Ward put down the
papers he had been reading and, peering over his reading glasses, replied,
"No, of course not, Cy.  The only gifts to Life that are expected of us are
those that are within our power.  Your beauty is great among men and, I
think, it would make a wondrous gift.  See me again a day or so before the
meeting and I'll do what I can to make your gift even more powerful."
"Thank you, sir," Cy breathed and escaped the office, still somewhat
embarrassed.  Clearly, he was learning, but he was not as yet fully
comfortable with the new world that he had accidentally discovered on
Christmas Day.

On the day before the February meeting, Cy reported to the gym as Ward had
suggested at breakfast.  When he arrived, his mentor was speaking with his
personal barber.  "There you are, my son.  Fabrizio has agreed to cut your
hair this afternoon.  Hop up on this chair."  The old Italian-American gave
Cy a magnificent cut that shaped the boy's chestnut brown locks into a
style worn by the boys of ancient Greece.  It wasn't all that different
from the way Cy's curly hair naturally fell into place, but the small
changes were very effective.  When Fabrizio had left, Ward turned to the
teen, saying, "Now, Cy, the remainder of my suggestions are just
that... suggestions.  The older teen's and the adult's body is his body and
another simply doesn't have the right to tamper with it.  I do think,
however, that you would be pleased were you to allow me give your body hair
a slight trim and give you a full massage with one of the finer natural
oils grown in this world.  Do I have your permission?"  Boldly, Cy asked,
"If I don't like what you cut off, sir, will it grow back?"  "Yes indeed,"
Ward answered.  "Thank you, sir.  Ok..."

Asking the boy to strip and jump up on a gurney in the gym, Ward proceeded
to reduce the teen's light but shaggy underarm hairs to a mere shadow
before cleanly shaving his lower torso from the navel to the top of his
pubic bush.  Inasmuch as he had neither "treasure trail" nor hair between
his pecs, that meant that his torso was effectively bare.  He then buzzed
his bush, reducing the hair to little more than stubble, though it was
still visible.  The hair that encroached on his penis, as well as the hair
on his scrotum, his perineum, and from the bottom to the top of his crack
was totally removed.  Finally, he removed the light hair that was already
creating a dark shadow on Cy's buttocks.  The teen's thighs, back, and
upper arms were essentially hairless.  The hair on his forearms showed only
the lightest color, his calves were but lightly haired, and only an
occasional hair appeared on his toes.  All these he left alone.

When Ward returned to the gurney, he carried an interesting looking bottle
that proved to contain an aromatic body oil, warmed and of the highest
quality.  Signaling to Cy that he should lie down again, he poured a small
quantity into his cupped hand, rubbed his hands lightly together, and began
slowly to work it into the boy's torso.  "The game here, my son," he
murmured almost as if to himself, "is to bring a warm glow to the skin
without making it look oily."

Mesmerized by the combination of eucalyptic vapors and the feelings that
seemed to be stealing into his body through Ward's fingers, Cy could do no
more than quiver, partially raise one eyelid, and utter a soft
"Oh-h-h-h-h-h-h" by way of response.  Once carved of hard white marble, his
muscles slowly surrendered to his mentor's ministrations, softening and
gleaming with a warm and golden light.  When Cy viewed himself in the
upright mirror, he was well pleased.

His appearance at the Society meeting, wearing only his Pueblo band of
silver and turquoise clamped tight above a bicep, resulted in awestruck
silence followed by wild cheers and applause.  Quietly, he attended to
their drinks.  Later in the afternoon, however, members of the Literati
Society came close to losing their discipline for the very first time - a
possession in which they and their young took considerable pride.
Overexcited by Cy's spectacular beauty, one member placed his hand around
the back of his neck.  When he noticed that another member had cleared his
throat and was staring at him, he withdrew it as if it were red hot.
Thankfully, earlier in the evening, they had shown him their respect by
unanimously asking him to present on "hobo culture" at a future meeting.

That night, also for the very first time, Cy crawled into Ward's bed.
"Here now, my son," his host remonstrated.  "In so many words, I promised
months ago that I would never hassle you sexually."  "Sir," Cy replied,
"you're not hassling me; I'm hassling you!"  Ward broke into raucous
laughter and enveloped the teen in an amorous bear hug.  One should note
that this was only the first night for the Gloucester lad and his mentor.
Once breached, the barriers between them gave way to a deep and abiding
love.  To this day, a large oil that Ward painted of Cy in the nude - noted
for both its eroticism and the love that the viewer immediately senses
between the artist and the model - hangs in the historic Santa Fe adobe.

Nor must we think that relations between Cy and the close friends among his
peers failed to develop apace.  There were frequent parties and, later in
the spring, picnics along the Rio Grande, rafting trips through the rapids
of that swift-running river, as well as simply hanging out, and performing
"necessary" tasks for each other.  When it was time for another gymnastic
season, for instance, Cy was called upon personally to give body shaves to
Peter and Randy.

Given all this - all that had transpired since Christmas Day when Ward
discovered a boy freezing to death on a bench in Santa Fe - it may seem
strange to many that he went to his mentor only weeks before his
seventeenth birthday.  The time had come, he maintained, to continue his
search for his father.  The former movie star was heartsick.  As everyone
who knew them in Santa Fe realized, they had come to love each other
dearly.  Ward, in particular, saw Cy as his son.  When the lad told Ward
frankly that he loved him, but had to close an open door in his life, the
man swallowed his fears and supported the boy's quest.  Cy left Santa Fe
with round-trip tickets to San Diego on a crack passenger train, his
mentor's blessing, and enough cash to ensure that the trip would not expose
him to the horrors of his previous life.


To Be Continued