Date: Thu, 10 Jan 2008 09:09:25 -0500 From: carl_mason@comcast.net Subject: JAMIE WRESTON - 2 JAMIE WRESTON - 2 Copyright 2008 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, "Jamie Wreston" is strictly fictional. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. As in real life, sexual themes unfold gradually. Comments on the story are appreciated and may be addressed to the author at carl_mason@comcast.net If you would like to read additional stories by this author, please turn to the "Authors/Prolific Authors" link at the beginning of the Nifty Archive. 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. CHAPTER 2 (Revisiting Chapter 1) Well before the time arrived during the third week to return East, Matt had fallen completely in love with the redheaded colt. In fact, he couldn't imagine his life anymore without the intelligent, funny, handsome young teen. Thanks to a suggestion made by Ken Porter - i.e., that he keep the sparkling Mercedes-Benz CL500 2-door Coupe that Jamie's parents had purchased earlier that summer - they decided to drive home rather than take the plane. Matt loved the coast to coast drive; Jamie had flown across country several times, but had never driven it. It would give them time to continue the process of getting to know each other; it would give Matt a chance to introduce Jamie to some of the fantastic sights that can't be enjoyed at 500+ mph when tens of thousands of feet up in the sky - or, for that matter, on the interstates (usually at only a slightly lesser speed!). (Continuing Our Story: Eastward, Ho!) The trip from Portland to the Bay Country on the Middle Atlantic coast took a full week. (Actually, it could have been driven in approximately 42 hours at legal speed limits, if drivers changed off and they drove straight through. As a young Marine, Matt had completed one such trip with two buddies, but he had always said that he could easily do without a second!) This time he was especially determined to allow Jamie a period of relaxation and recovery from the pressures under which he had been operating. Before they left, for instance, Matt consulted with the therapist who had seen Jamie at Ken Porter's request. In addition to receiving several suggestions that might ease his way through a difficult transition, Matt agreed that the youth was still operating on adrenalin...and that at a highly vulnerable point in his own life. He much needed a "decompression period". Further, his uncle knew from personal experience how many glorious and fun experiences awaited him at every turn in the road. Clearly, there would be difficult times, both in Jamie's life and in their relationship. Sooner or later, he would feel the full weight of the tragedy that had engulfed him. Indeed, that was an experience that had to be encountered, and surmounted. Matt was always thankful, however, that this realization did not weigh him down on the trip east. Hence, the experiences that they enjoyed would provide a basis for surmounting the difficulties that would inevitably come later. Clearly, adolescence was not going to go away! Indeed, whenever he thought of the journey in later years, he always pictured a beautiful, intensely happy kid, laughing his fool head off, his mop of red hair blowing in the wind, his ever-curious, bright blue eyes attesting to his promise. Nor would he ever forget the image of the boy's thighs that seemed to thicken slightly each and every day as they squirmed around on the leather seat that he adjusted continually - or the lengthening arm that he threw around his uncle several times each day in pure joy! There were, of course, several special moments that Matt would always remember - and they happened from the very first day. For instance, having camped and fished with his family in the Cascades, Jamie especially enjoyed the auto trip through the mountains and along the great Columbia River. "It was," he said, "as if his earlier trips were 'snapshots' and the first day's drive was the 'album' in which he organized his photos." Jamie was even able to explain that the 60-70 mile, almost straight Columbia River Gorge was the only sea level route through the Cascades. Millennia of volcanic action had left miles of ash, lava, and mud through which the River had cut. Great floods had swept down the river corridor, leaving tributary streams hanging high above the river's bed. Here was the major cause of the many waterfalls they saw, seventy- seven on the Oregon side of the river alone! As they approached The Dalles, Oregon (the point at which immigrants arrived at the end of the old Oregon Trail and had to load their wagons, animals, and other possessions onto barges for the rest of the trip), Jamie effectively brought the morning's drive to an end. The appeal of a goodly number of youths who were windsurfing off a park on the river was simply too much! "Uncle Matt!" he squeaked. "May I check it out?" "Well, Jamie," Matt answered, "I guess any thirteen year old who uses 'may' rather than 'can' in asking permission deserves to 'check it out'!" A mischievous gleam in his eye, Jamie pursed his lips and offered a (very) wet raspberry in response. "Nice guy..." his uncle chortled. Almost before the car came to a halt in the parking area, Jamie jumped out and immediately began talking with other teens about their sport. Matt didn't try to listen in, but it was nearly impossible to miss the excited "dude this" and "dude that". He also saw his nephew's fascination as he watched the youngsters arranging their rigs, getting them into the water, uphauling the sails, and getting underway. (He had to admit that it looked like a lot of fun.) Finally, Jamie returned to his side, grinning, the excitement still in his eyes. "I've only tried it twice...on a lake up in the Cascades," the youngster said, "but I think I'm going to miss this back East." "Oh," Matt commented offhandedly, "it just so happens that windsurfing is one of the more popular sports on the Bay. Why, there's even a small summer windsurfing school in Anne's Harbor where we live, and I believe that several of my history students are enthusiasts. Somehow I doubt that you'll have to 'miss' very much." "Oh, Uncle Matt, you're too much!" Jamie yelled, took a few play-swings at him, stopped suddenly, threw his arms around the older man, and buried his head in his chest. Reaching down, Matt grasped the youth by his thickening shoulders and, when a grinning Jamie looked up, joined his ward in delighted laughter. "Ok, beast, we've got a ways to go before we rest this night. How about taking a pit stop, having a bite of early lunch, and heading east?" "Yeah-h-h..." the redheaded one murmured. After packing in enough victuals to feed the Seventh Cavalry - horses and all - Jamie allowed himself to be rolled back into the car and they were off. Before reaching The Dalles, their eyes had been greeted by crops such as apples and grapes - when they weren't occupied with the quarter to one and three-quarters mile wide Columbia. Not far east and southeast of their lunch stop, however, they soon realized they were entering a quite different part of the country. It was the bright teen who noticed the first signs. "Look at all the pickups going by," Jamie chortled. "See anything different about them?" In all honesty, Matt couldn't. The youth then let out a neighing horselaugh and chortled, "How about all those cowboy hats?" Matt offered him a (very) wet raspberry. "Nice guy," Jamie mumbled, tried to give the driver's thigh an Indian burn, and returned to happily looking out the window. Naturally, the cowboy hats weren't the only sign that they were passing from the "Pacific" to the "Intermountain" cultural/geographic region. The land quickly became dryer, though rich with fields of wheat and, in time, replete with grazing cattle and sheep. Matt stopped for a few minutes in Pendleton to get Jamie a cowboy hat that the redheaded one swore made him look like Clint Eastwood. Matt simply snickered and drawled, "More like 'Clyde', I reckon." And so the teasing and one-upmanship continued through valleys and forests and over mountains until they finally reached the town of Ontario on the Snake River that separates Idaho from Oregon. Somewhat wearily, they tumbled out of the car at a decent looking place called the "Cattleman's Rest". (After all, they had driven nearly 380 miles - and it was the first day!) Jamie snorted that Matt had stopped there because of the motel's steakhouse. "Believe it, buddy, believe it!" Matt retorted. "Nevertheless, I think we'd better clean up before we hit the restaurant or they might not let us in. Ok with you, Clyde?" Jamie simply snorted and led the way to the front desk. Within minutes, they were in a very comfortable room that had a large window overlooking the river. Without thinking, Matt just stripped down, grabbed his toilet articles, and headed for the large shower. He had just begun lathering up when he heard a tap on the glass door. "Yeah?" he shouted. Somewhat timidly, Jamie opened the door just a crack. "Uncle Matt, I really liked the times when Dad let me shower with him. Could I join you? I promise: No splashing or goofing off." "Come on in, beast," his uncle responded. "Oh, man," he play-snarled, "I can see the cooties from here! They've gotta go!" With that he grabbed the lad by a bicep and held him firmly as he lathered up his back. The tall young teen did everything but purr as Matt's fingers worked his back muscles, his beautifully rounded buttocks, and his firm thighs and calves. Matt might just have turned him around to get his front, but he suspected that the early teen might just be showing a little wood. Consequently, he simply stood up, drew the boy back into his chest, and reached around him. The older man was impressed. The boy's pecs and abs were already showing some definition, and his lower stomach was as tight as a board. He didn't go further south, for Jamie was already showing quite a growth of red hair above a slowly stiffening cock and ball sack that were easily as large as any he had ever seen on an early thirteen year old. As they stood there for a moment, the boy rested his head back on his uncle's pecs and sighed deeply, "Oh, Dad, that feels so great!" Immediately his body stiffened and his voice cracked as he whirled around, crying, "Uncle Matt, I'm so sorry!" The fact that one impressive (and very hard) young cock solidly slapped his uncle's thigh as he pivoted tumbled the lad into complete confusion. Red as a beet, he threw his arms around Matt and buried a hot forehead between Matt's pecs. Over and over, he sobbed, "I'm so sorry, Uncle Matt! Please forgive me." Matt could feel the tears running down the front of his torso. Matt also sensed his own rising passion and that wasn't something he was willing to face. Keeping an admirable grasp on his passions and nerves, he embraced his ward, hugged him tightly, and kissed him on top of his red hair. "No need to forgive you, Jamie, for you've done nothing wrong. I knew what you meant when you said, 'Dad' - and at your age a young man's cock can stiffen up in a nanosecond if the breeze changes direction! It's natural, Big Red! Relax. I think you know I love you and that I think you're a pretty neat cowpoke. Just relax. (Pause.) Want me to wash your hair?" "Yeah," Jamie managed to choke out through his tears. When Matt finished, the youngster again embraced him. "Ok!" Matt said, slapping him on his butt. "Out of here now, dry off well, and decide what you're going to wear to supper! I bet you're as hungry as a bear just out of hibernation!" "Oh, yeah!" the redhead growled and then paused. "Don't you want me to lather you up? I'd like to." "Sure, Big Guy," Matt answered with a laugh, "but right now I want a steak more! Pay me back next time, ok?" Reluctantly, Jamie released his uncle from his arms, exited the shower stall, and headed towards the towels and basin. As they walked from their side of the four-building quad to the (highway) side occupied by the restaurant, Jamie was a little...tentative. Once he began to sniff the odors emanating from the kitchen, however, both his pace and his face picked up. In fact, on entering the simulated log cabin dining room, all was right again with the world. Indeed, they had magnificent western steaks that they'd associate with this trip for many a year. All went well until about 1:00 a.m. when Matt woke up out of a sound sleep. Lightening was flashing over the river; a deep-voiced thunder was rolling as if the mountains themselves were gathering for a powwow. Seemingly half asleep, his young ward was standing beside the bed clad only in his tighty-whities. In a voice that sounded lost, even frightened (which, surely, no teen of any age would admit), the youngster moaned, "Uncle Matt, I can't get to sleep. May I please jump in with you...just for tonight?" Matt lifted the light blanket in front of him and sleepily grunted his permission. Jamie remembered grinning to himself just before he fell asleep. (To Be Continued)