Date: Fri, 12 Mar 2004 09:58:53 -0800 (PST)
From: Niftyguy <niftyguy_30307@yahoo.com>
Subject: southern nights, chapter 7

Warning: the following story contains graphic descriptions of sex between
consenting adult males. If you are underage or do not wish to read such
materials, or if reading this sort of material is illegal in your
jurisdiction, then read no further.  If you have any feedback or
encouragement, feel free to drop me a line at niftyguy_30307@yahoo.com.  I
appreciate the emails!  (That's how we authors know guys are reading.)

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	Singing at the top of my lungs, driving just a hair too fast on the
ribbon of mountain road, squinting through my shades at a countryside that
was awash in reds, browns, and greens, and nothing overhead but blue skies
forever, I was happy and eager and excited and more than ready to arrive at
my destination.  I may have been a grown man of thirty-eight, but I eagerly
gave myself over to the thrill of youthful anticipation.

	What is more exciting than a secret rendezvous?

	A secret rendezvous that is arranged by someone who slips a note
and a crudely drawn map into your hand as you're leaving him, leaving him
at a time and place where you can't talk, you can't say the things you're
thinking and hoping and feeling.  And the note tells you to follow the
tangled skein of back roads up and over the rolling hills and into the
mountains, driving until you reach a remote cabin that promises to be out
of sight, hidden from any prying eyes.  A remote cabin where your path and
his will cross and touch and wrap around each other, even if only for an
hour or a day.

	The note, of course, was from Beau; he had slipped it into my hand
just as I was leaving his grandfather's house, where we had all just spent
a most peculiar evening.  I suppose that I hadn't really known what to
expect.  Standing on the sidewalk in front of the graceful mansion, I felt
like I had just emerged from a time machine.  Meticulously manicured lawns,
towering magnolias, a wrought iron fence, and tall shuttered windows all
seemed to be emblems of an earlier, more genteel time.  Forrest Hamilton,
courtly manners and all, also seemed to be a relic of a bygone era.

	And he was on his best, most honey coated, behavior after I was
ushered through the massive front door.  As soon as I had a drink in my
hand (in other words, immediately), he guided me through the different
downstairs rooms, giving me the tour of family portraits and historical
treasures that documented the Hamilton family's reign over Dumont and its
environs.  He didn't really turn up the charm, though, until we were
sitting in the parlor, waiting for dinner to be announced.

	"It must all seem very provincial here, to you," he drawled,
focusing his gaze on me.

	"Why do you say that?"

	"My goodness, Mr. MacNeil, you are living the life that many would
dream of living.  A published author, and, by the way, your book is very
good, living in New York City, which is truly a city among cities.  Why
ever would Dumont hold any appeal?  How could this little town possibly
compete for your affections?"

	I smiled.  "Mr. Hamilton, I think you're selling your hometown
short.  Every place has something to offer.  Even Dumont.  You're right
that it's not New York, but it is real and authentic in its own way, a way
that I could never experience up North.  And I'm sure that you know that
this town is a part of my heritage , a part I've probably neglected for too
long."

	"Of course I would never try to minimize your family ties to the
area.  My only point was that I would be surprised if there is enough
here," he paused, "at least enough that's available to you, to keep you
entertained for long."

	Before I could reply, the heavy parlor doors swung open and Claude,
the ancient houseman, announced that dinner was served.  My elderly host
and I were just sitting down at the enormous mahogany table, laden with
crisp linens and gleaming china and silver, when we heard the front door
burst open and, seconds later, Beau bounded into the dining room.

	"Beau, how nice of you to join us," Forrest Hamilton said, slightly
sarcastically.  "Mr. MacNeil, do you remember my grandson Beau?"

	"I believe so," I replied, extending my hand.  "You were with your
grandfather when he came to my uncle's house, weren't you?"

	"Yes, I drove him over."  Beau took my hand and squeezed it extra
tight.  "I'm sorry I'm a little late, Granddad."

	"Well, punctuality has never been your strong suit.  But we just
sat down, so there's no harm done.  This time."

	Dinner unfolded like a slowly blooming rose, building in richness
and intensity until I thought that I was going to burst.  Although the food
was delicious, I probably didn't savor it with the concentration that it
deserved.  Instead, I was more than a little distracted by my carnal
appetites, which Beau, who was sitting across the table from me, was doing
his best to stoke.  At first it was just the way he looked at me, and the
way he put his fork in his mouth, but about midway through the meal I was
startled to find his bare foot taking up residence in my crotch, under the
cover of the snowy white tablecloth.  As I did my best to keep up my end of
the conversation, his toes played my cock like a musical instrument,
stroking out an extremely interesting melody as they crawled up and down
its growing length.  I probably should have attempted to discourage him,
but instead I found myself slumping down a little in my chair, moving an
inch or so closer to his roaming foot.  He interpreted this as an open
invitation, and, before I realized what was happening, he used his probing
toes to pop open a couple of buttons on the fly of my zipperless trousers.
By the time I said "Yes, please," to the offer of coffee with dessert, he
had worked his big toe inside my trousers, through the fly of my boxers,
and into direct contact with my leaking cock.

	It would be a lie to say that I wasn't enjoying the excitement of
our clandestine activity under the table, but I eventually decided that at
least one of us was going to have to behave like a grown-up.  A large cum
stain on my pants was the last thing I needed when I stood up at the end of
dinner.  Pretending to reach for my napkin, I quickly extricated Beau's
foot from its station and shot him a mildly disapproving look.  While
eating my strawberries shortcake with one hand, I did my best to tuck
everything back into place with the other.  And not a moment too soon.  The
instant we finished our dessert, Forrest Hamilton told Beau that it was
time for him to excuse himself so that the grownups could retire to the
study and talk privately.

	A few minutes later we were settled into the big leather chairs
that flanked the fireplace, and my host turned to me with a smile.  "Now
it's time to talk a little business.  I've been thinking over the last
several days, about your situation, and I have a proposal to make to you."

	"Why am I not entirely surprised?" I remarked dryly.

	"I wouldn't expect you to be.  As you must know by now, your uncle,
may he rest in peace, had several fine pieces of property in this town and
the surrounding countryside, including the main house that you are
currently using.  As I indicated the other day, I am prepared to offer you
a more than fair price for the entirety of the real estate and its
contents.  Now, you may ask why I would need another large house," he
gestured around the room, "and indeed I don't.  But you should understand
that my goal is one of preservation, not one of use.  What I propose to do
is to create a foundation that would maintain and preserve your uncle's
home as an example of the way life used to be."

	I furrowed my brow.  "Do you mean turn it into a museum?"

	"Exactly.  The ancillary properties could be sold to endow the
foundation, after their contents were catalogued, and then your family home
would be preserved for all time, to guarantee our town's memory of the
past, and all that made it decent and good."  He paused, as though he was
waiting for a response from me, but I decided not to take the bait.  "You,
of course, would have a position on the board of trustees, if you wished.
And I would personally assume responsibility for guiding the project."

	I thought for a moment.  "I can't deny that it's a very interesting
proposal.  It would certainly tie things up neatly.  But I hope that you
will understand if I tell you that I have to take some time to think about
it.  I should probably also meet with my uncle's lawyer."

	Forrest Hamilton couldn't stop a slightly sour expression from
casting a shadow over his face.  "You mean Clay Barker?  I certainly
understand that you must have legal counsel, but if you are relying on him,
you might wish to get a second opinion.  Please let me know if you need a
list of competent attorneys in the area."  He got up and went to his desk,
where he retrieved an envelope.  "This is a written proposal that outlines
what I have in mind.  Read it carefully.  I assure you that it more than
protects your interests."

	I took the envelope from him.  "I'll certainly take a look at it
and consider it carefully." I glanced down at my watch.  "But it's getting
late.  I should probably be going."

	"Yes, it is late.  But I'm pleased we had the opportunity to talk."
He picked up a small bell and rang it.  "Claude will show you out."

	When the door opened, however, it was Beau who appeared, and it was
Beau who showed me to the door, and it was Beau who slipped a second
envelope into my hand at the door, and it was Beau who smiled and said that
he would see me again, soon.

. . .

	The rutted dirt road unfurled its way through the dense pines,
veering first left and then right, winding first up and then down, before
suddenly rolling to a stop in front of a very handsome, very hidden cabin
in the woods.  Its broad front porch was an invitation to sit and
contemplate life, love, the past, the future, or nothing at all.  The stone
chimneys that rose from either end of the two-story structure were a pair
of calm, comforting sentries.  A tangle of old, thorny rose bushes that
spilled onto the path was a testament to someone's romantic vision of a
lover's hideaway.  And best of all, Beau's car was already there, parked
off to one side.

	I bounded up onto the porch, eager to see him.  It was tempting
just to burst through the door, grab him, pick him up, throw him down, and
have my way with him, but I exercised enough self-restraint to knock first.

	"Hello, anybody home?" I called, affecting a Southern accent.  "Yoo
hoo!"

	Footsteps, the rattle of an old and stubborn doorknob, the creak of
a weathered door, and there he was, standing in front of me.  Only today
there was no smile on his face, no expression of pleasure to see me.  At
that moment there was only a frown and an angry red welt that bloomed
across his handsome face, tracing a bloody route over his cheekbone.

	"My God, Beau, what happened to you?"  I pulled him toward me so
that I could examine his wound.

	"That asshole, that fucking asshole.  After you left he came after
me, told me that he wasn't as stupid as I thought, that he could see
exactly what was going on, that he wasn't going to stand for it."  Beau's
breath was coming hot and fast, and he trembled with rage.  "He told me
that he wouldn't let me bring our family down, that there was no way he was
going to let me carry on with a Yankee faggot.  That there was no way that
I'd ever see you again."

	I put my arms around him, feeling his hot and sweaty anger, but he
pushed me away.  "How did you get this?" I asked, tracing the swollen mark
on his cheek.

	"I told him that he couldn't tell me what to do anymore, and he hit
me with his cane.  I knew then I had to leave, or I was gonna kill him.
That asshole, that fucking asshole.  Now I know why my daddy had to leave,
to get away from him."

	I followed Beau into the cabin, uncertain about how to calm him.
He stalked angrily around the main room, seething with rage.  "It's my
life, not his.  There's no fucking way he's gonna tell me what to do.  If I
want to be with you, if I want to kiss you, if I want to fuck you, that's
what I'm gonna do."

	Fire blazed in his wet eyes, and his face flushed red.  Circling
back around the couch, he grabbed me roughly by the arms and mashed his
mouth against mine, pressing lips into teeth, rubbing his stubbled cheeks
and chin against my skin.  Urgently, angrily, he started to claw at the
buttons on my shirt, popping them free, pulling at my zipper, stripping my
clothes off of me until I stood there naked.  Grunting, crying, hissing,
Beau shed his own shorts and shirt and lunged at me, butting his body up
against mine, seeking to use his mass to knock me off balance, pushing me
down on the old couch, spearing his erect cock against mine, hungrily
tasting my skin.  He grabbed my wrists, twisting me around so that I was
lying length-wise on the couch, pinned under his lithe body, which
glistened with sweat.  Breathing hard, almost desperately, he rubbed his
smooth pectorals across my hairy chest, creating an electric charge between
the two of us.  I tried to lean up, to bring my mouth into contact with
his, and he responded by roughly pushing me back down and planting his
mouth on mine.  As the older, stronger, sturdier man, I could have reversed
the terms of our engagement, fought back, and flipped him over, regained
dominance, or at least some measure of equality, but I could sense that, at
that moment, he needed to be in charge, he needed to assert himself over
me, over the world.  I struggled and resisted just enough so that there
would be a prize worth winning, but I chose to let him be victorious.

	Still on top of me, Beau turned himself around and straddled my
face, grinding his cock and balls over my nose and across my mouth.  He was
breathing hard as he pulled my legs apart and buried his face in my groin,
chewing and biting the sensitive flesh of my inner thigh, licking and
sucking on my balls, using his hot, moist lips to bounce my hard cock left
and right.  As he started to suck, he mashed his erection against my mouth,
and I reached out with my lips and grabbed the leaking head.  The instant I
had sucked him inside, he grunted and almost savagely jammed in the rest of
his length, sinking all the way in to the root.  I thought for a second
that I was going to choke, but I took a deep breath through my nose and did
my best to accommodate him as he began to fuck my mouth, all the while
devouring my own cock with the appetite of a starving man.

	The primitive grunts and groans that were the expression of his
angry passion vibrated out from his throat and through my erection.  He
sucked and nipped at my foreskin, using his lips to pull it back and forth
over my cockhead, as he attacked me with an animal intensity.  More than
once his teeth grazed the sensitive skin, causing me to flinch, but he just
responded by using his body to pin me down even more tightly against the
couch.  All restraints gone, he devoured me.

	It took awhile, but eventually he had gotten his fill of my cock.
Ready to move on to his next target, he hooked his hands behind my thighs
and rolled my butt back, giving his lips and tongue access to my asshole.
The first contact between my quivering flesh and his saliva-coated lips was
enough to send a shiver through my whole body, and he responded by pulling
out of my mouth and planting his own butt right on top of my lips.  All
reason escaped me as we started to simultaneously rim each other, and I
just held on for dear life.  It was amazingly hot and wet and pungent and
nasty and real.  I was wide open for him and his probing tongue, and he
just drenched my asshole with his saliva.  Other than the sensations that
were rippling through my body, all I could focus on was licking and sucking
his winking hole.  I wanted to him to feel exactly what I felt, each ripple
of almost painful pleasure.  I hadn't been that naked to another man in a
long time, and I had no choice but to completely capitulate to him.  The
tide had turned.  It was no longer a matter of me letting him call the
shots; he had really, truly won.

	He had won, and he was ready to claim his ultimate prize.

	"I'm gonna fuck you, I'm gonna fuck you," he growled as he turned
around once again, covering my body with his and positioning his cock at my
back door.  He reached down and scooped a liberal amount of precum off of
my leaking erection.  After smearing it over my already slick hole, he
first slipped a couple of fingers inside, enabling him to poke and probe
all of my internal pulse points.  Satisfied I was ready enough, he pressed
his cock up against my swollen sphincter and, without so much as a pause,
poked through.

	My guts initially fought back, but he ignored the signals that I
tried to send and kept sinking deeper inside.  Breathing hard, almost
panting, wrapping my legs around his butt, I struggled to steady myself and
adjust to his ragged strokes.  Slowly, surely, I learned how to extract
what I needed, what I wanted, from the friction and pressure that Beau was
delivering into the very core of my being.  Using a prehistoric language of
primitive sounds, I struggled to communicate the degree of pleasure that he
generated at every particular spot, the intensity of the feeling of contact
between his young prick and my chute.  Reaching down, I used my index and
middle fingers to form a vee that framed my hole, enabling me to feel the
slickness of his erection as it pumped inside of me, all the while jacking
my own cock with my other hand.

	We were suspended in another dimension, a dimension of heat and
sweat and friction and lust.  Our bodies fused into a vibrating organic
machine, fueled by raw sexual energy.  Every point of contact between us
was a conduit for every sensation that we both were feeling.  I wanted my
hands on his back.  I wanted his mouth on mine.  I wanted my legs to wrap
around his butt.  I wanted his balls to bounce against my ass.  I wanted
his heart to feel mine beat.  I wanted my sperm to cover our bodies, and
his sperm to fill me up.  I wanted our orgasms to multiply together.  And
they did.

	"Oh, my fucking God," I groaned, pulling him down against me,
trying to suck the air out of his lungs.  He buried himself inside of me,
just holding himself there as his cock erupted.  Needing to maintain
motion, needing to release our kinetic energy, we rocked our bodies
together as we rode the wave of our orgasm.  All of the possibilities in
the world were open to us at that instant, the entire universe had shrunk
down to that time and that place, and it was intensely beautiful.  Almost
to beautiful to look at.  So I closed my eyes and used my whole body to see
him.