Date: Thu, 16 Jan 2014 22:01:39 +0000
From: Spasm Two <spasm2@hotmail.com>
Subject: Hugo 2

Chapter 2: bring me sunshine

	Later on that summer I came back from a series of meetings in the
hot and sticky south craving the relative coolness of my granite farmhouse;
even when the temperature outside was approaching the 30's the thick stone
walls meant that it always provided a comfortable refuge from the harsh
rays of the summer sun. I realise that for many readers this is not
especially hot, but in North Britain this is quite uncommon and somehow it
feels hotter than it actually is. Maybe it's because of the lack of air
pollution, but your skin can burn very easily if the sun is in a cloudless
sky.

        I came to realise that my almost complete isolation had given me
other advantages; I hadn't had many opportunities to work on my tan, but I
rapidly came to the conclusion that if I followed one of the many
gamekeepers tracks up into the hills I could wander about naked without
causing anyone offence or doing anything worse than startling the odd
grouse. I was able to combine two of my favourite things; walking in the
hills and going naked in the fresh air whilst at the same time building up
my all-over tan.

	The other illicit pleasure I'd found near my farm was bathing in
the local burn, not yet big enough to be called a river; it was fed from
the moors and hills and was generally far too icy for swimming. The
unexpected heat wave had warmed it up to a very pleasurable temperature,
indeed, after a tramp through the heather it was positively delightful to
have a dip in one of the pools that punctuated its' otherwise rather
shallow passage. I had found a particular place, perfect in many ways, it
was shaded but not overhung by trees and the water bubbled and boiled over
some boulders creating a deep pool about twenty feet across lined with soft
sand and gravel, making a sort of natural Jacuzzi. Better yet, it wasn't
overlooked and was only about five minutes across the field next to my
house. Should I feel inclined, there was a large flat rock alongside it,
perfect for a bit of basking in the sun in between dips.

	I'd seen and heard nothing of Hugo since my return, apart from our
brief moment of intimacy and his text, it was though everything had gone
back to the way it was before. I wasn't particularly bothered, although my
unexpected encountered had revealed an altogether more charming and
intriguing individual than I had expected, still he was a distraction, and
I had plenty of other things to be getting on with.

	So, apart from my work, I was able to take a few long walks in the
hills, and cool off in the burn on my way home. This became my routine;
Once I'd done a few hours work I'd leave the house wearing light running
shorts and a t-shirt so as not to offend the sensibilities of the farmer or
his wife, and carrying a water bottle and some sun-screen I'd head off into
the hills. As soon as I was what I judged to be a safe distance from the
house, I'd strip naked, stash my clothes behind a rock and continue on my
way, rejoicing in the sensation of sun and air on my body. On my return, as
often as not, I'd just pull on my shorts and make my way round to the burn,
where I'd strip off again before hurling myself into the foaming water.

	I haven't said very much about myself so far, apart from my
profession; physically I wasn't in bad shape; when I wasn't flying a
computer my work kept me pretty fit and my love of walking and wild
swimming did the rest. A couple of years before, at the instigation of my
ex-partner we had both been comprehensively and professionally
depilated. Having undergone the ordeal known vulgarly as `back, sack and
crack' I had quickly discovered that the penalty of making this aesthetic
choice was the agonising itching when your pubes started to grow back in,
and as I had grown accustomed to being hairless and sleek, I found it far
simpler to maintain the status quo with a razor every couple of days. Other
than that minor and personal idiosyncrasy, I'm about 5'8" tall, fair
skinned, solidly built and have short cropped blonde hair (well, it was
blonde before it started falling out) and while I'm not hung like a donkey
(as most of the hero's of this kind of story tend to be) I've never had a
complaint. Apart from that
	I'm kind to animals and enjoy the company of others.

	One sunny week day I had reached a point on a drawing where I would
only make things worse if I did any more to it, and weary of staring at the
computer screen for any longer than I had to, I decided it was about time
to take a hike as I was feeling stale and tired from being inside. In
addition I was due to go to London for a few days for a series of meetings
and I thought this might be the last of the good weather. Outside the sun
was blazing away and while there were a few fluffy clouds dotted about in a
decorative sort of way, they were not enough of a rain threat to cause me
any concern.

	I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and some sun-block; I
popped them into a cloth bag and headed out into the sunshine, off in the
distance I could see a couple of buzzards circling over the grouse moor,
their conversational shrieks punctuating an otherwise silent scene. Quite
quickly I was past the signs of farming activity, and crossed through the
deer fence that defined the boundary. As I reached the large pond that had
given the farm its name, a group of mallards took fright and flew off,
protesting noisily. This was evidence enough to tell me that I was on my
own and with a feeling of relief I stripped off my shorts, pants and t
shirt. Revelling in the sensation of the gentle breeze on my skin I tucked
my clothes into a crevice and headed up into the hills.

	Whatever else William Wallace might have been getting up to,
Braveheart doesn't really give a very accurate picture of how complicated
heather is to walk through; a couple of hours tramping through the scrub is
excellent vascular exercise, as you have to lift the knees high to avoid
getting tangled up; you certainly can't run across heather moorland, nor
would you want to, unless you happened to enjoy being feasted upon by deer
ticks.

	That particular day I tramped up along for a good couple of hours
before I decided that I could feel the sun baking its way through the
sun-block and as there wasn't a scrap of shade I'd better head back before
I got seriously burned. There was also the rotisserie effect, I'd had the
sun on my back all the way, so, if I turned back I'd get to do the other
side. So I paused to refresh my sun screen, taking special care to ensure
that my hairless genitals were well covered, there's nothing much more
uncomfortable than a sunburned cock in my experience.

	As I made my way down off the hill I whistled a happy tune, looking
forward with cheerful anticipation to a plunge into the burn to cool off,
after an hours or so tramping I arrived back at my clothes stash,
cautiously I picked up my bundle and gave it a quick shake; I'd had a close
call a few days earlier when an adder had decided to share the cool place I
had chosen and had curled up in my t-shirt. I'm not afraid of snakes, but
any animal will strike out if it's caught by surprise, and this little
creature had been given a rude awakening. Fortunately it had fallen from my
shirt into the heather and had decided that discretion was undoubtedly the
better course, the last I saw of it was its diamond patterned back whisking
away at the best speed it could manage. Having established that there were
no predators lurking in my clothes, I put on my shorts, shoving the rest
into my bag. After several hours unclothed, it felt quite strange to have
cloth next to my skin, and I could feel the heat of the sun in my
	lower back and shoulders. Now that I was on my final lap I hurried
down the track, in the distance I could hear the cooling water calling out
to me.

	Conscious of the heat on my skin I kicked off my walking shoes,
pulled down my shorts and dumped them in a heap with the rest of my stuff
before I leaped into the frothing pool. The sensation of the cool water was
quite a shock after being out in the sun for so long, and after a few
moments splashing about I settled back in the water to rest; sitting on a
submerged rock my back was pummelled by a foaming torrent of peaty
water. In a brisk sort of way this was close to blissful, and closing my
eyes I soaked up all the other senses; the sounds of splashing water didn't
occlude the distant shrieks of the buzzards and somewhere close by I could
hear the monotonous call of a cuckoo, most of the mammals in my locale only
made a noise if they were being eaten, or trying to get a shag, neither of
which appeared to be happening nearby.

	I was lost in the moment, and, as I wasn't wearing a watch I could
only guess the time from the position of the sun, there wasn't anything
pressing for me to attend to back at the farmhouse so I could have stayed
in the pool until sun-down if I'd felt like it. The sun had warmed the
water to a pleasing temperature and I was feeling truly relaxed and at one
with my little world. It wasn't going to last of course, and this wouldn't
be much of a story if nothing happened. The noise of the water racing over
the rocks was loud enough to cover up most things, and in the past I'd seen
deer suddenly emerge on the track, unaware of my presence until I moved, at
which point they took off in a panic.

	This time my visitor wasn't an example of local fauna, or perhaps
it was; in my peripheral vision I caught a flash of sunlight reflected on
chrome, and this heralded the appearance of my neighbour Hugo cycling along
the dusty field boundary on his mountain bike. Out of deference to the
heat, he was shirtless, a t-shirt tucked into the waistband of his knee
length board shorts. His skin was a pleasingly golden tone, and he was
skinny enough for the detail of his muscles and ribs to show. I couldn't
see his scars from the earlier accident, as he had the wrong side to me,
although the red marks on his wrists and ankles were still quite clear. I
was a little concerned, as he had caught me naked in the burn, and I wasn't
sure that I wanted to flash my shaved bits at a teenage boy. After a moment
of reflection I realised that a) there wasn't much I could do about it, and
b) I was sitting in a foaming pool, so, unless I stood up or got out, my
modesty was preserved.

	I quickly realised that he hadn't seen me, because he stopped by
the big rock and got off his bike, laying his machine down in the
grass. Without looking around, he tossed his shirt on top of it, then
pulled down his shorts and kicked off his trainers. I was fascinated, but
more than a little disappointed to see that Hugo wore baggy white soft
cotton boxer trunks, although on him they did look quite cute and the white
material was a startling contrast against the golden brown of his tanned
skin. Before he could think of undressing any more, even if he had been
going to, I coughed theatrically, and Hugo jumped.

	'Hi Hugo, sorry if I gave you a fright,' I said, 'didn't know you
liked to take a dip here too.'

	'Oh, Hi John,' he answered, 'yeah, I was going to have a swim,
didn't realise you were in here already, I can come back later.'

	'I was just chilling,' I replied, 'I've been out in the sun all
afternoon, and needed to cool off. Don't let me stop you if you feel the
same.' I could see him working it out, I could practically hear the cogs
whirring, and chipped in; 'Look Hugo, I won't be offended at all if you
don't want to swim in here with someone you hardly know, especially someone
who isn't quite as well covered up as you are.'

	He grinned, 'I guess I caught you unawares.'

	'Yeah, you did, no-one has ever come this way when I've been taking
a dip before,' I laughed with him. 'How are your war wounds doing?' I
asked, by way of changing the subject.

	Rather than speak, the boy twisted round, showing me the scabs on
his knee and elbow; they were healing nicely, and the healthy pink of new
grown skin formed a corona around each injury.

	'Looks good,' I said, approvingly, 'you're obviously more
disciplined than me, I can never stop myself from scratching.'

	'It's very hard sometimes,' he smiled, 'but I'm resisting the
urge.'

	'Ah, I can resist everything except temptation, as Oscar Wilde
said.'

	'That's funny,' he giggled, 'who's Oscar Wilde, what channel is he
on?'

	'He's not on the telly, he died long before telly was practical, he
wrote books and plays, and was famous for being witty.'

	'Oh, right,' he said, his enthusiasm waning, 'I don't read much, I
prefer to be outside doing things.'

	'Hey, I'm not going to lecture you about what you should or
shouldn't do,' I said, 'that's what parents are for.'

	'and teachers, and grandparents,' he added, sarcastically.

	'Oh dear, have you been having a hard time with them all?'

	Hugo sat down cross legged on the big rock I used for sunbathing,
'I suppose so,' he answered slowly, 'it's just that I changed schools when
my parents moved back up here, and all the stuff I'd been learning has
changed. No-one seems to believe that I'm not stupid, I just learned a load
of different things when we were in Africa.'

	'I guess your schoolmates aren't that sympathetic either,' I added
with a flash of insight.

	'You could say that,' he said bitterly.

	Suddenly I realised, 'is that why you've got those marks on your
wrists and ankles?'

	He nodded mutely, suddenly tears were streaming down his face,
'mostly they just tie me up and shout names at me,' he added between snotty
gulps.

	'What sort of names?' I asked.

	They call me things like; 'poofter', 'Tarzan' and 'the Nigerian
Jew-boy',' he stammered.

	My heart went out to the boy, I wanted to give him a hug, but I was
very conscious that it wouldn't be entirely appropriate in my naked
state. 'Little savages, that's disgusting, is there no-one you can talk to
about it?'

	'I've tried to tell my folks about it, but they think I'm making it
up just because I don't like my school.'

	I made a decision; 'you can come to me if you need to, sometimes it
helps just to talk it through with someone who's not involved in any way,
and I promise I can keep a secret. That's twice I've seen you crying now.'

	He smiled through the tears, 'thanks, I'm not really much of a
cry-baby but it feels ok to do it when you're around. Your offer means a
lot to me, but right now I'm really getting far too hot.' He stood up, and
without ceremony or much technique, hurled himself splashily into the pool,
maintaining a discreet distance from where I was sitting. After a couple of
kicks, he surfaced triumphantly and turned to grin at me across the foaming
water. 'That feels better,' he shouted, 'I could stay in here all day.'

	'Yeah, it's good,' I agreed, without quite as much enthusiasm, the
proximity of an attractive and near-naked boy was having an understandable
but disconcerting effect on me, an uncomfortable reminder that I hadn't had
any kind of sexual encounter for months.

	Hugo must have sensed my discomfort, because he turned and smiled
at me; 'don't worry, I really did just want to cool off, I'll have to get
home soon or I'll be in trouble again.' With that he walked over to the
side of the pool, where the water grew shallow and climbed out. His
saturated boxers sagged heavily with water and clung to every contour of
his body, revealing the curves of a very cute behind, and a promising bulge
when he turned to face me again. 'Damn it,' he muttered, looking cross.

	'What's the problem?' I asked.

	By way of an answer, he tugged at the waistband of his pants, 'I
don't normally swim in these,' he answered, 'now I'll get my shorts soaked
when I put them on, and my folks will wonder what I've been up to, and when
they find out they'll probably ban me from coming up here, you know how it
is, they'll decide I might get bubonic plague or something. Since we came
back to Britain, my mum has become obsessed with germs, I think it was
because the water out there was pretty filthy, and here our water comes
from a spring.'

	'Ah,' I said, 'bit of a problem that, although I think the water is
pretty safe.'

	'I'm sure it is,' he said, and abruptly he pulled off his sodden
boxers, tossing them down on the rock with a wet slap, 'oh well, I guess
I'll just have to go commando.'

	'Uh, yes,' I said, unexpectedly confronted with a naked boy, 'that
is one way of dealing with the problem.' It was now very evident to me that
Hugo was quite well developed for his age; he had lovely tight, round balls
and a cock that seemed more than adequately proportioned for his size, his
package was embellished by a healthy growth of dark pubes, although the
rest of him was still pretty hairless. 'That's another thing your bullies
got wrong then,' I added wryly.

	'What?' he asked, anxiously.

	'Calling you a Jew, of course,' I grinned, eyeballing his cock in
case he didn't understand.

	He smiled at me, 'oh, yeah, I don't suppose that matters when all
you're trying to do is hurt someone.' He turned away to pick up his t-shirt
and used it to dab the water off his skin, before pulling on his shorts. I
couldn't fail to notice that his bum was indeed quite delicious, and it was
tanned to the same golden shade as the rest of him. 'You won't tell anyone
that I skinny dip here, will you?' he asked suddenly.

	'Who would I tell,' I asked, 'and anyway, if I did that, then I
probably wouldn't be able to swim here either. If you want to leave your
wet pants behind, I'll shove them in the wash and you can pick them up from
my place next time you're passing, it might save you from being asked any
awkward questions.'

	'Yeah, thanks, that'd be kind of you, I was just going to chuck
them into a hedge, but that wouldn't be very green I suppose,' he grinned,
'do you mind if I ask you a personal question? You don't have to answer it
if you don't want to.'

	'That sounds ominous,' I smiled back at him, 'but fire away, a
straight question deserves a straight answer.'

	'Ok, here goes,' he gulped, 'how come you don't have any pubes?
You're way older than my brother and he's really hairy down there.'

	'Ah, and there I was thinking the pool was concealing my modesty,'
I said, choosing to ignore his casual dismissal of my age.

	'It is, perfectly,' he gabbled, 'no, I saw you walking up in the
hills one day, and couldn't help noticing then.'

	'Oh dear,' I said, 'I didn't think anyone knew about my liking for
the feeling of the sun on my skin.'

	'I'd gone out really early with my camera; I wanted to take some
pictures in the sunrise for a school art project. I was just heading home
for breakfast when I saw you coming up the track, once I realised that you
weren't wearing any clothes I hid and watched you go by.'

	'Oh dear,' I blushed, 'that's embarrassing.'

	'Why?' he asked, 'you looked really contented, and you look in
pretty good shape, I was just curious about the lack of hair.'

	'It was a lifestyle decision that my ex and I made, we thought we'd
see what it felt like to get rid of all our pubes. Since then, it's been
easier to maintain it than let it grow back; if I leave it for more than a
couple of days it gets really itchy and I haven't got your discipline when
it comes to scratching.'

	'So, what does it feel like?' he asked.

	'You should know better than me, it can't be that long since you
were pube free,' I grinned wickedly, 'but to answer the question, it feels
great, like you couldn't get more naked, and it made the sex much more
exciting too, not that that is any business of yours. Now I've just grown
accustomed to it, and couldn't imagine being any other way.'

	'Thanks for your honesty,' he said, 'I can't think of anyone else I
could ask such an intimate question.'

	'Like I said, if you ask me a question, I'll give you a straight
answer, there are some limits of course, out of deference to your tender
years, but I'll do my best for you.'

	'That's cool, you can't believe how good it feels to be treated
like I have half a brain, but now I'd better get off home, or if I'm not
careful I'll be sent up to bed without my supper.' He got on his bike and
pedalled off, before he disappeared round the corner he looked back and
waved at me.

	Shaking my head I got slowly to my feet, the pummelling I'd
received from the burn had eased the pain in my shoulders and all in all I
felt pretty good. Time to head home and have a cold beer before I thought
about my own supper. Shaking off the water I wrung out and used Hugo's
pants to dry off my feet and legs, it felt a little strange to be wiping my
balls with the boys underwear, but I've always been practical; why should I
get my own clothes wet. Once I was sufficiently dried, I put them in the
bag with my clothes, put my shorts and shoes back on and made the short
trip back to my place.

	Opening a beer I sorted my clothes, and put a wash in the machine,
taking great care not to include anything that might leak colour into
Hugo's brilliant white boxers.

	I decided it was better not to hang his pants out with the rest of
my clothes, my washing line was clearly visible from the farm track, and
whilst I had no qualms about displaying my own diverse and extensive
collection of undies to any passer-by it was probably unwise to have what
were obviously a boys pants out on display next to mine.

	This is probably a good point to come clean, and explain that I
have always found underwear sexy and exciting; I like the idea that you can
be wearing the most tedious grey suit and yet be wearing something secret
and exotic underneath. I also love the idea of concealment, so much more
erotic than just putting everything on display. So, while my washing line
frequently resembled the flags of all nations fluttering in the evening
breeze, I stuck Hugo's boxers on a hanger to dry them in the house,
absently noting their size and then forgot all about them