Date: Sun, 5 Jul 2015 17:07:36 -0700
From: Richard Ramirez <rarqrxx@gmail.com>
Subject: Trains

Trains
(c) Richard Ramirez
rarqrxx@gmail.com
You can use this story only for non-profit purposes, provided you
don't take credit for it. Write to me if you like it, or even if you
don't like it.

Trains

I was 14, almost 15 that summer and my body was blooming. If we had
had internet at the time I would have been one of those guys who gets
naked in front of a cam and shows of his body, beats off and posts it.

We didn't have TV either. We weren't poor but logging was in a slump
and the whole community was having a hard time. My Dad now had work as
a firefighter. Kept real busy and was away a lot. Mr. Wong at the
General store had a satellite and let people watch the World Series
and things like that, the Super Bowl. He sold a lot of drinks and
snacks that he said it paid for the TV service. But no internet.

Toward the end of the 8th grade, last school year I started to notice
that my body was beginning to develop. My dick had been the first to
grow, to a 6 1/2 inches hard on, straight and not too thick, the thin
skin on the dark head easily sliding in my fist.

I was getting muscles and losing fat. My legs had always been good and
I always had a nice round ass, but my upper body was looking really
good now. I'd get naked in front of the full length mirror on the
inside of the bathroom door to admire it, getting a hardon looking at
every inch of myself, my well developed legs getting longer as I grew,
my abs getting a leaner, more defined six pack with a deep line
running up the middle of my flexed abs.

I was up to 200 sit-ups and 100 pushups a day and getting stronger. My
triceps hung like tear drops and my biceps were round and hard. My
upper back was now flat under a good upper back and broadening
shoulders. My still kind of thin chest showed good sharp definition of
my pecs. My lats were getting definition, flaring to a narrow waist. I
was hot and turned myself on, beating off in front of that mirror
whenever I could, whenever my 2 older sisters and Mom weren't home.
Sometimes I would get so turned on that my skin would tingle, the
energy dancing on my skin.

Sometimes it would tingle even when I wasn't beating off. I would feel
it under my loose clothes. It felt good. I liked it.

Our health teacher in the 8th grade told us not to lift weights, but to
develop our bodies naturally. I wanted to melt all the baby fat off me
and he said running was the best exercise. So I began to cross country
run when the snow began to melt, first at school and from home when
school let out.

I had a running circuit, down the dirt road to town, past the railroad
yard, up the grade to the road overpass and back to my house, about 10
miles. Sometimes I did it twice, but not too often. It was getting
hotter even in the June early morning.

I liked to run without a shirt and feel the cool breeze on my sweating
hairless chest especially when I got up to the crests of hills or
ridges. I was getting a nice tan too.

One day I was running past the railroad tracks, past a trailer that
railroad people stayed in sometimes and saw a kid that looked about my
age trying to straighten out the railroad ties under the trailer. He
was having a hard time so I stopped and asked if he would like some
help.

He looked at me, up and down my body, and smiled and said "sure."

I liked being looked at, and smiled back.

One of the ties was rotting, and his dad had told him to see if he
could replace it. The trailer was up on a couple of car jacks, but it
was harder that it looked. We had to dig out the old tie and drag a
new one underneath the trailer, but it settled crooked so we had to
raise the trailer again, digging out some dirt. It finally took three
ties, two on the bottom and one on top before we had it secure and
level.

We talked during water breaks, planning our next move, drinking from
water bottles he got from inside, with the "where you from," "how old
are you" questions (he just turned 15). I look into his eyes once, his
beautiful deep blue eyes and had to turn away to keep from staring.
For a long time I couldn't look him in the face just because I didn't
want to stare in his eyes.

He wasn't ugly or anything. In fact he had a kind of pretty face, like
a girl. He talked a little like a girl too.

He kept his old torn t-shirt on, and kept looking at my body. I liked
it and it made me hard for some reason. When we were done and rested,
I told him I was going to finish my run.

He stood in front of me and smiling looked me up and down, and said,

"You got a good body." It was unexpected but I shined it on.

I said thanks, and reached out to shake his hand. "My name's Bradley."

"I'm Ed," he said. "I've seen you run by a couple of times. You run
every day?"


We began to run together. I would pick him up running by his house. At
first he only made it to the rail overpass, but in a few days he kept
up. It was downhill after that so we would run by my house and I'd run
him back to the trailer and go another round. After a week or so it
got to be routine. But he always kept his t-shirt on. He had a cell
phone and took selfies with me a few times, but always with his t-
shirt on. He said his Dad's work computer had a card that let him plug
into wireless and make hotspots. He was the only person I knew that
had internet and a cell phone. But all he could do was take a lot of
pictures with it, a lot of me, and selfies with me and him.

We got to be tight. I could usually find him in a stand of trees above
a sloping meadow in front of the general store, reading. He attracted
squirrels and they would come by to chatter at him, but not angry,
like they liked him. He read these thick books. I would ask him what
they were about and he would tell me the story. I liked Oliver Twist
and he even read some parts to me as I lay on the forest grass
listening and the squirrels chattering in the trees like they were
telling a story too.

He would come over sometimes, at first, to help me with chores. I was
painting the eaves of our house so they wouldn't rot. He helped me
move the ladder and would sing, "I see London, I see France," and shit
like that, and laugh to himself. But he got this oil based paint all
over him trying to paint and didn't come around much after that, at
least not while I was painting.

I started to show Ed new trails to run. It was fun running with him.
He liked to talk, panting, chattering like the squirrels as we ran so
I got to know a lot about him, most of which ended up not true. At
first I could tell he was chubby, kind of fat really, under his sweaty
t-shirt, a spare tire, a belly, round mounds for tits and pointy
nipples. But the running was getting rid of some fat already. He had a
not too large round ass and good thick legs, a little thick on the
thighs but ok. But he never got tired of looking at my body and didn't
seem to mind me noticing or getting off on him looking at me.

I was getting taller fast, and it stretched my thin frame, giving me a
lot of definition. I liked to feel my body, my hand on my tight abs
even when I didn't flex them, feeling the tight ridges of muscle,
pinching my nipples. I liked getting hard with myself. I liked the
feel of my skin, my straight hard dick in my hand, the iron hardness
under the soft skin sliding easily, exposing the head, the drops of
slime collecting on the slit as I stroked my dick. It tasted good.

I was beating off almost every day, mostly in the old outhouse in
back, trying different grips but always settling on one when I was
coming, my full hand around the hard shaft, dick in my fist, catching
the full dickhead on each stroke with my thumb, coming and shooting
straight out and across, checking out how far it would hit outside the
outhouse door.

I could beat off with two hands on it now, stroking up and down, but
barely sliding the foreskin off the head. I fisted it tight and
stroked slow. It felt good in one hand. Sometimes when I was really
into it, coming took my breath away.

I knew all along that I wasn't supposed to do shit like this or get
off on my own dick, but it felt too good. I couldn't have stopped even
if I had wanted to.

My mom thought I used the outhouse because the girls monopolized the
bathroom. I was happy they did. I liked to stand and feel of the late
afternoon cool breeze on my body, my cut offs around my ankles,
smelling the pine, my skin tingling as I felt my body, my ass pinching
my nipples soft, slowly stroking, letting go when I felt it coming to
make it last longer, stroking slowly, holding it tight until I came,
enjoying every moment of it, every tingle and feel.

I got to like my come too, salty on my tongue.


One morning we ran past the old quarry on the high trail. Some guys
were skinny dipping and I noticed a couple from my class. The old
quarry was reserved for high school boys. They got really mean if you
tried to swim during the week so I didn't think about swimming there.
But it made sense, my classmates there, 'cause we were now in high
school (more or less). The high schoolers didn't seem to mind them
being there, so I asked Ed if he wanted to go swimming there later. He
had told me he was a sophomore next school year.

Ed asked if they always swam naked and I laughed and said "sure!"

He said maybe, but when I past the trailer later, on my way to the
quarry he said "nah," that he had some chores to do.


It was a good thing too. There were two flat stone ledges one about 20
feet above the water, another at water level. When I got there my
classmates were on the bottom ledge and the high schoolers, mostly
jocks, on the upper ledge. One guy, a basketball star, saw me the
called me up to the high ledge.

My classmates looked away, like they knew something was up, but I had
to.

When I got to the high ledge they started to harass me, calling me
names, pushing me around. One guy pulled my shorts down and pushed me
off the ledge. I fell to the water flat on my back. The cold mountain
water took my breath away. I wasn't a strong swimmer to begin with and
with my shorts around my ankles and my shoes, I barely recovered and
tried to paddle to the lower ledge. Charlie, one of my classmates
jumped in and swam up to me, and told me to hang on to his shoulders.

As Charlie dog-paddled me back I saw the guys on the ledge look up. I
turned my head and looked up too. A couple of the high schoolers were
diving down to the water after me, one with a big hard on. He was
really nice looking naked, the basketball jock, tall and slender
showing a good sized uncut boner swan dive. He was beautiful. He
wanted us to see it.

I pulled up my shorts so they wouldn't see my boner. I started up the
trail. They called after me, but I just flipped them a finger without
turning around, and kept on walking. That was my initiation to the
swimming at the quarry - and the beginning of my doubts.

Maybe I was gay. I beat off and came more than once thinking about
that long slender basketballer and his stiff cock flap against his
belly as he dove down from above. I still have that image clear in my
head to this day.

I saw Charlie at the General Store later that week and he said that it
would be ok after that, that they were always looking for ways to fuck
us up but that most times they left us alone. One of them, a foot ball
star, the one who pushed me off the ledge, got mean, but nothing real
physical, just calling names down, picking a victim or two to yell at,
but no real rough stuff.

He said that a couple of them were really good divers.

"I know," I said.

I didn't do much swimming after that though, not during the week
anyway. On weekend, families picnicked around there and lots of people
went swimming with bathing suits on. Ed and I went a couple of times,
but he kept his t-shirt on. I was really getting curious about that.
On weekends lots of people, especially older men and women with really
fat, big bellies dove and swam around, or just lazed tanning on a
raft, or on the ledge drinking beer while their kids snorkeled and
swam, splashing around on inner tubes, making noise and laughing. I
always had a good time.

My Dad knew what was going on with me, I think. It seemed like knew
just by looking at me that I was getting off on my own body. He told
me I was growing up good and healthy like he had.

"But," he said, "don't get too taken up with yourself."

He's tall and has a strong muscular build, very little fat, large
broad shoulders, a deep chest and really strong back. His work kept
him lean
I guess. I kind of know what I will look like when I get older and
taller.

On the 4th of July people would go to the meadow and barbeque. I went
and got into volleyball. The basketballer and I played two-man for all
takers and we won them all. He said he was sorry that his friend got
rough, and that he had jumped in to help Charlie get me to shore. He
seemed sincere.

I got so into volley ball that I didn't even see Ed there. I guess he
and his Dad spoke to my Mom, who told me later, and said he was a
nice, polite boy. When the younger kids and the girls took over the
net they were gone.

During a break the basketballer said, "You've got a nice body."

I said, "You do too."

Feeling his chest he said, "it looks a lot like mine" and we both kind
of laughed. I couldn't help but think about his stiff, dark, uncut
dick flap against his white stomach when he dove, and turned away.


One day about a week into August, Ed told me that his dad was going to
be away that night and if I wanted to sleep over. My Mom thought it
would be all right. So he had dinner at my house and then walked to
his trailer in the still bright late afternoon summer daylight. I had
my running backpack on, with my running clothes and shoes, and a
couple of plastic bottles I filled from the stream for on my runs. I
wore my Dad's flip flops. I asked and he said it was ok for me use his
flip flops when he wasn't home.

On the way to the trailer Ed said my Mom was a really nice lady. She'd
given his some of meatloaf and he said his Dad would really like it,
that he'd make some mashed potatoes and gravy for him just the way he
liked it. He didn't mention my sisters.

We put our stuff away sat outside under the awning playing cards; He
kept losing, and with bright smiling eyes suggested we play strip
poker. I don't know...

But we both stood up anyway and went inside the trailer. He pulled the
curtains and we sat on this dumpy built-in sofa, part of which that
turned into Ed's bed. I was surprised at how clean the place was.

He dealt the cards between us. He kept winning and still had his t-
shirt and shorts on while I was down to my underwear. I was wearing
briefs 'cause my jock was in the laundry. But we both weren't wearing
much to begin with. It was only the third hand.

He was smiling, looking at my body and said, "I really like your body.
It's hot." He'd said that since the day I met him so I shined it on.

I lay back on the sofa and kind of stretched out and let him get a
good look. I felt, the way he was looking at me that he wanted to feel
it, to run his hands on it or something like that. I could feel his
look. Maybe even to rub himself against it. He did that a lot. I was
getting all hot and bothered thinking of things Ed might want to do.
My dick stirred. I felt it getting heavy.

I felt my chest, running my palm across my pecs and nipples.

"You can touch it if you want" I told him.

He felt my chest and asked me to stand up. I got up and he took my
hand and guided me between his legs, He sat up and felt my chest. My
dick got real hard.

I looked down at him, my stiff dick against my hip inside my jockeys;
I put my hands behind my head and leaned back. My whole package grazed
his chest but he didn't seem to mind. He looked up at me as he gently
pinched my nipples, his deep blue eyes looking up at me wanting
something even more. I stared back into them for the first time,
really holding my gaze and pressed my hardening dick against his
chest.

I was just messing around and kind of expected him to push me away but
he didn't.

He asked me to turn around and I felt his hands on my waist, his face
pressed against my ass. I knew we shouldn't be doing this. He asked if
he could lower my underwear. I was going to say no but he did it
anyway.

He licked my ass cheeks and I felt his face, his nose and tongue in my
crack. His hands ran up my waist to my shoulder blades. This was going
to far too fast and I thought we should stop.

His hand reached around and felt my hard dick, now sticking straight
out from my body, first feeling the uncut head, gripping it and
stroking it from behind with his fingers and thumb, then his full
hand. His mouth still pressed against my ass crack. His fisted my hard
dick and then ran his hand down the stiff hard shaft to feel my balls,
pulling gently on my balls and ball sack.

I sat back down and he stood between my legs. Without saying a word I
pulled down his underwear and saw his dick pop up and flap against his
stomach. His hard on was pointing up, curving up against his belly
where his belly rounded down between his hip bones, to a small patch
of pubes, His dickhead hid under his t-shirt. I lifted it up and got a
good look - it was a good six inches, thicker at the base. I pulled it
down with the tip of my forefinger to see if he was cut and pointed it
straight to my face.

It was the first time I ever touched someone else's dick or been that
close to one for that matter. But he had touched my dick first so I
guessed it was ok. He didn't even flinch and I didn't either. He was
circumcised, a tapered kind of pointy head, but still broad, a full
hard dick curving up against his belly. I gripped it like he had done
me, and it felt a little thicker than mine, but mine felt longer. It
was weird not having a foreskin. The head was bare all the time. The
skin barely got up to under the head.

I ran my hands up under his t-shirt. He had a strong body, big, not
half as lean as mine. I ran my hand up his side and felt his pecs,
round, a handful, and big pointy nipples. I pinched his nipples and
ran my hands on either side of his strong thick lower back forming a
deep ridge, the valley of his spine. His thick sides flared down to a
waist. And I felt his big round ass. We were both real quiet.

As I ran my hands along his body he said, "I have girl's tits,"

I knew now why he never took his t-shirt off. I had noticed the mounds
of pec and the pointy nipples poking out under his t-shirt when we ran
and he got sweaty.  He pulled his t-shirt over his head. His tits
weren't that big. A few of the guys had girls' tits, some bigger. I'd
seen them swimming or just playing ball, skins and shirts. His nipples
were little bit bigger than a red-brown bumpy quarter. His nipples
weren't flat against his chest. There was a little round rise lifting
under the dark rusty red nipple. The little points stood up out from
the center like pointy little tents.

I pinched them both rubbing my thumb on them and he went "oooh."

I looked up at him: "They're not that big," I said.

I led him into the small trailer bathroom and we stood in front of the
mirror.

"See," I said.

"Wow" he said. They're not as big as I thought." He felt them as he
said, "I mean they used to be a lot bigger. I guess all that running's
doing some good.

We looked at each other in the mirror crowded against each other. I
realized he was bigger than me, taller too. Somehow, since I'd known
him he seemed smaller or at least shorter than me. His reflection in
the mirror showed his dick pressed against the edge of the sink above
his balls. My reflection only just got past my small patch of pubes. I
adjusted my hard cock up, and my dick showed longer than his even on
my shorter body, and just about as thick. It wasn't the foreskin made
it look bigger. When I get a hard on my foreskin peels back naturally
making a circle around the tip of my dick exposing the slit and about
half my dickhead. And you could see the outline of the rest of the
flaring head under the thin skin.

He didn't have a bad body. It wasn't really pretty but ok. I guess it
was a normal, heavy set teen body for 15 year old kid like some of my
classmates. A couple of them were just like him.

We both admired my body in the mirror, long and lithe and fine. I
caught his eyes looking my reflection up and down, staring at the end
of my uncut dick. He turned his head to me and more directly looked
down to my dick.

We both had the bases of our hard cocks pressed against the cool
porcelain sink. It felt good and we both were getting off on it.

"You want to beat off?" He asked, looking down at the end of my boner,
not taking his eyes off me. Pressing against the sink had made a drop
of slime come up to the slit of my cock and we both could see it.

We sat next to each other on that wrap around red trailer couch, legs
spread, hips and legs touching, stretched out. We stroked ourselves
looking at each other's stiff cocks as we stroked. He put his arm
around behind my head and his hand went down on my pec. He rubbed my
nipple with his fingers making circles on them around the small little
hard tubes at the point. He pulled on the points and pinched just like
I liked to do.

"Can I suck on your tits?" he asked.

"Oh no" I thought.

"Go ahead" I said and let my breath out slowly as I felt his warm
mouth and the tip of his tongue running all around on it.

It felt good, so after a little while I sat up and did the same to his
pointy left nipple. The nipple tip was hard, but the rest of it soft.

He let out a breath, "Oooh - they're really sensitive... that feels
really good"

I put my hand on his inner thigh and he reached down and took my dick
in his hand. I knew this was too gay but I didn't give a damn, I knew
I shouldn't be doing this but didn't want to stop. I couldn't stop. My
heart was racing and I was getting all red and blushing and my dick
was too hard.

"Watch out," I said, "you asking for trouble."

"No trouble," he said. He sat up and got his face close to my dick,
stroked it, watching carefully as he pulled the foreskin back and
forth over the head of my now raging hard on. He pulled back the skin
the head already wet with slime.

"You really have a beautiful long straight dick," he said. "It feels
good in my hand."

"Mine too" I thought. Another drop came up on the slit as he stroked
and he asked me if I've ever tasted it.

"Tasted what?" I asked,

"This," he said and pinched the drop of slime off my dick and showed
it to me, separating his fingers forming a shiny thin line between
them.

"Yeah, I guess I have," I said.

"How does it taste" he asked.

"Try it and find out," I said, smiling. But he did!

He licked his fingers and smacked his lips.

"Umm, Can I have more, please?" He smiled as if he'd made a joke. He
was always doing that, a smile like he'd said a joke.

Something in the back of my mind kept saying, "no, don't do it - this
has gone far enough."

"Sure" I said, and watched the back of his dirty blond hair go down to
my lap, feeling the moist warmness of his mouth and the rolling his
tongue around on the exposed round head. He held my balls and admired
my standing dick. It was long, at least compared to him, waving it
around, admiring it at its full hardness, its length, and the foreskin
wrapped around the head.

He went back to stroking it slowly, running it in and out his mouth
sucking, running his lips and tongue up and down the stiff hard shaft
and all around the head. He ran his open mouth sideways down the full
length of the stiff standing shaft from the raging dripping head to my
hairless balls, then licking kissing and sucking back up the long
shaft up to the head again. I just watched as he kissed the slit,
pressing the tip of his tongue into it, his pink lips around the tip,
sucking only the tip for more. He rubbed the dickhead on his upper lip
like he smelled it then ran his open mouth sideways again, down to my
balls.

I never had a blowjob before. It was too late to tell him to stop. I
didn't even think about it. I just watched and felt the warm mouth all
over my cock. I pushed his head down, his mouth taking the deep red
wet dickhead a couple of inches as deep as he could.

I lay back on the couch, put a pillow under my head and watched him
suck on my stiff long pole. Most of the time, when he had it in his
mouth he let go the shaft - a no hands blowjob. His eyes were closed
as he turned his head from side to side, up and down, then bobbing up
and down on it, then down as deep as he could. I heard him gag but
that didn't stop him from trying, pushing against his warm tight
throat as deep as he could. And it did go a little bit deeper down his
tight throat every time.

He took it between his teeth and cheek. then the other cheek, kissing,
licking, sucking the underside of the head, and back down deep on it,
every time deeper until he could  get most of it in his mouth and down
his throat. I guess down his throat - there wasn't much else place to
put it and it was too hard and stiff for it to bend. He licked the
shaft up and down, and holding it straight up in the air, ran his open
mouth along the length to my balls. He licked my balls humming like
really good ice cream, running his open mouth and red tongue up to the
wet head to take it all in his mouth again, deeper and then deeper in
his throat.

This was great!

He was really into it, bunching up the foreskin and sticking his
tongue under it, biting the bunched up foreskin and licking the
dickhead under the skin, sucking up more slime. He bit and pulled the
foreskin with his teeth looking up at me smiling. Then running his
tongue under the bunched up skin again, around and around, again and
again, and then going back to my balls, squeezing the hard dick shaft
and the cockhead as he licked and sucked each hairless ball, one at a
time, rolling each one in his mouth - and then the two, filling his
mouth  with them.

And then open mouthed, the broad red tongue would lick back up to the
head to start over again, bobbing and turning his head all around the
red head.

I lay back eyes closed, softly pinching my nipples, feeling my chest
and abs, enjoying that warm moist blowjob. When he was licking my
balls I stroked my hard dick, feeling it wet and rock hard under the
soft wet skin.

But it didn't last that long.

I was ready to come. He kept on sucking and licking even after I told
him. He looked up and smiling, his blue eyes were twinkling, my dick
in his fist against his face, my wet dickhead sticking out from his
fist rubbing against his cheek. He asked if I'd ever tasted my come.
But before I could answer my dick shot a long thick stream of come
straight up in the air, high up in the air, falling and landing on his
hair and forehead.

He put his mouth on the shooting head and took two or three long
agonizing shots in his mouth and down his throat. When he was sure I
stopped shooting he brought the head back from his throat to his mouth
to get the come that I knew was oozing out of my now tender, hard
dickhead.

As I shot I moaned loud AAAAHHH and felt the strongest orgasms I had
ever felt, every shot stronger, every shot raising my ass from the
couch pressing the shooting dick deeper into his face, every shot
stiffening every muscle in my body. When I was done coming and all my
cum was down his throat or in his mouth, he took my dick deep in his
throat again. The pain from his throat squeezing my tender dickhead
made me squirm and arch my back again.

My dick was still in his mouth as I arched my back. He felt the slope
of my stomach, all the way from my small patch of pubes between my hip
bones up to my expanded chest and the strong, fast beating heart under
my rib cage.

He stroked the still stiff dick as he sucked making sure he got it
all, looking up at me with those blue smiling eyes as he rolled my
come around in his mouth, around the thick throbbing dickhead still in
his mouth.

He opened his mouth to show me my come, bright eyed, like he was
proud.

I lay back letting go the tension, and just closed my eyes, feeling a
glow, almost wanting to sleep. My dick was still hard and in his fist.
I opened my eyes to him staring at me smiling, my come on his forehead
now clear and flowing down his nose and cheek, to the corner of his
mouth. He scraped it from his cheek and sucked the slime off his
finger, swallowed and then he went back to licking and sucking my cock
clean. I didn't feel much, but it didn't get soft and he looked up at
me, my cock in his stroking hand.

He had this big smile giggling with delight like a small boy. My dick
still in his fist, rubbing his cheek with my dickhead up against his
face, he looked at me full with bright blue eyes and practically
squealed,

"That was really fun!"

Whew. Beating off had never been this good!

We lay there naked for a while, side to side. I didn't know what to do
or say. I was afraid he would ask me to suck him off and I really
didn't want to. But he didn't ask. Sitting back on the couch he
stroked his dick, turning to suck on my tit. I put my arm around the
back of his head and he laid his head on my arm. He started stroking
his dick looking at me, looking down at my body, feeling and rubbing
my heavy spent dick with his free hand, pressing it against my
stomach, feeling my balls, pinching my scrotum. He pressed the heel of
his hand against the base of my cock just above my balls, pressing
like we'd done on the sink and it felt just as good.

I kissed and sucked on his nipple and groaning loud he came, flat on
his back, three or for really good high shots that fell back on his
chest, and the rest just oozed from his pointy dickhead to his belly.
He picked up a gob or two and licked it off his fingers, rubbing what
he couldn't pinch or scrape off his belly and chest all over himself
and then licked his fingers and hand, smiling at me.

He offered me a taste but I said "no thanks."

He laughed to himself.

We just lay there for a while. A train pulled into the yard. It got
really noisy. The old trailer began to shake but we just lay there as
it got dark. He kissed my lips and it surprised me and I pulled away.
But I felt bad, so I came back toward him and I kissed him back and we
got into a necking session. I couldn't taste my come. I looked for it
with my tongue.

We both felt each other up as we kissed and we both had hardons again.

I don't think my dick had gotten soft at all.

He sucked my dick a little bit and went back to kissing. I sucked his
nip and bit it too.

He suggested we get in bed. So he pulled out his bed and a couple of
full white pillows, lifting the couch seat. I had expected funky dirty
come covered sweaty smelling crusty sheets but they were white and
clean and didn't smell at all. I just lay there my hands behind my
head letting his hands feel from my balls to my chest, and them my
arms, letting him feel my hard round biceps flexed into hard round
balls, tracing the line between them and my shoulder. I let him lick
and kiss me, even inside my pits and feel me up. I was enjoying it.

I asked him where he was sleeping. He laughed and said he was supposed
to sleep on his father's bed. I asked what time his Dad was coming
home and he said he didn't know that if he managed to hitch a ride on
an early freight train it might be early morning. I asked him what he
would say if he saw us naked in bed together and Ed laughed.

"Don't worry about that," he said. "We'll be up. It gets kind of noisy
around here. But it wouldn't upset him if he did.

I wanted to piss so I got up to go to the bathroom.

Ed said, "Let's go outside to piss."

It was dark now, and as I opened the door the cool evening air hit my
body. I was sweaty hot and it felt real good wrapped around my skin.

Ed pushed followed me down the three steps just behind me, his hand on
my shoulder. Barefoot we went around the trailer to the rail side and
I let go. Ed came up alongside me and pissed on my foot. I pushed him
away and told him to be careful. He said he was sorry and that I could
piss on him if I wanted to. I was almost done, but I turned and pissed
what was left on his leg. He laughed and said it was nice and warm,
and pissed again on my foot. It was warm and damn if it didn't feel
good in the chill of that naked night.

I liked being naked outside. I'd never really done it before. Not like
that with a big hard on and all sexy. I shivered but it wasn't because
of the air. I fingered my dick and Ed put his arm around my waist and
we just stood there, feeling warm against each other.

It got chilly and we went back inside. Ed brought me a wet wash cloth
to clean up my foot. Then he cleaned up his leg, laughing. I was used
to getting up early and I was tired. I lay on the nice clean bed and
pulled the other sheet up over me and turned on my side away from him.
He snuggled up against my back and asked if I minded.

I said, "no, but don't get any ideas."

He laughed and asked if he could put his dick between my legs - just
to be comfortable. I didn't say anything and just felt his arm as it
reached around under my arm, his beefy hand to my chest. I never
noticed his hands before. The thick beefy finger felt good rubbing
around against my nipples.

I remembered when my mom and her friends said someone was sleeping
with somebody else. They said it like it was bad.


A train rumbled by real close to the trailer and woke me up. The sheet
was on the floor and Ed was crouched between my legs playing with my
stiff morning woody. It was still dark but I could see his head like a
shadow going up and down, and felt my dick tight in his fist, warm and
wet in his mouth.

He looked up and said, "good morning," real cheerful, like he was
happy.

He went back to the exposed dickehead in his fist and licked it all
up, licking the underside of the head, kissing and sucking the two
round halves hard, popping his lips as he kissed and sucked. A drop of
slime formed on the cock slit and his whole tongue carefully licked it
off. He stuck the tip of his tongue into the slit and stoked my dick,
trying to squeeze more out.

He wrapped the end of my dick in the palm of his hand and pressed his
mouth against the circle of his thumb and forefinger, bobbing up and
down just on the head - up and down, up and down. It was good, his
full hand not too tight around my dickhead, his lips against the slit,
sliding the foreskin down, and on the down stroke his warm mouth
sucking it and his tongue licking it inside his mouth; and then an
upstroke, his lips sliding up around on the head, sliding to the slit
and sucking, squeezing the head a little bit and down again his lips
sliding down along it, sucking the head as his lips slid the skin slid
down from it.

He pressed his lips against it the end of my cock as he stroked it up
and down so tight I couldn't see my dick - felt so good. I told him
that it felt really good and he kept my dickhead wrapped in his hand,
kept stroking it up and down in and out of his mouth, up and down, up
and down, wet and warm, so nice and tight, so smooth in and out of his
mouth. I lay back and closed my eyes and felt it a good while. Then he
put about half the head in his open mouth then slapped his tongue and
cheek with it, looking up at me and smiling.

"Hit me with it" he said, and I did. I gripped the base of my dick and
slapped his face a few times. It only made my dick harder and stiffer.
He opened his mouth and tried to capture it. It became a game, to keep
my dick out of his open mouth so I could keep on hitting his face with
it.
We were both kind of laughing.

Trains were coming into the yard and it was non-stop iron squeals, men
yelling, bangs and crashes, pneumatic hisses, and the blaring of horns
as they switched cars from one train to another. It was like a
soundtrack.

He took it in his mouth again; licking the round halves of the
underside real fast with his tongue, like it was dripping something
really good and he wanted to get it all. It tickled and he smiled at
me again, tickling it with his tongue. He worked on the head as he
stroked, licking precum off whenever he managed to get some, then
opening his mouth wide, rubbing the head against the roof of his
mouth, between his teeth and cheeks, looking into my eyes.

When the dickhead was in his mouth I could feel his tongue going all
around, all around it. He bunched the foreskin up and put his tongue
under the loose skin, round and round again, and then he pulled the
skin back to kiss and suck the underside again, then more wet, sloppy,
open mouth noisy, full-lipped cockshaft kisses up and down the length
to my balls and back again.

After a while he started going down on it, deep in his throat like
last night. He knew I really liked that. He looked up at me and tried
to smile with almost the whole shaft deep in his mouth. I smiled back
and stroked his hair and pushed his head back on it, and deep it went,
all the way to my balls.

"Oooooh." All I could do was moan.

He asked me to stand up, and I did. He got on his knees and ran my
whole hard cock in and out of his mouth three or four times, deep, up
to my balls. All I could do was to hang on to his hair. I began to
hold on to his head and pump my wet, streaming hard pole as deep as I
could into his mouth, in and out, and then held his head tight moving
his throat around the head. I reached down and felt my dick in his
throat, the shaft and the head as it moved my hard dick in and out. I
felt a bulge on his throat grow then get small again as I pulled it
back. He just let me do my thing, his eyes closed, holding on to my
round bare ass.

I fucked his face hard. I didn't care how it was for him. I felt
strong, my whole body flexed and tingled, pumping and forcing my dick
down his throat, pulling his head against me as hard as I could,
pressing his nose against my pubes, feeling my balls press against his
chin.

I just kept on forcing my dick down his throat, really getting into
it, hearing him gag, feeling his hands on my thighs pushing, trying to
get his breath. And when I let him breath I only pulled my dick back
to his mouth. He drooled and gasped. I forced my dick down his throat
again, pulling his head against me hard again, pumping it as deep as I
could, and moving his head around to feel it on my cock. My whole body
was tense. It was fun making him gag and spit.

A whole wad of spit came out of his breathless mouth, streams and gobs
of it, falling to his chest and the floor. He tried to wipe his mouth
but all it did was make a mess, the white foamy spit was too thick and
hung from his hand and wrist. He looked up at me and his eyes were
like he had been crying. He saw my reaction and catching his breath,
told me not to worry, that "face fucking" always made his eyes water.

I rammed my dick down his throat and came. I looked down at his wet
sticky face and saw that he was beating off, and as I came he came
too, a white stream of come oozed out of his dick and then he started
shooting. My dick was shooting too. He eased it out of his throat and
took the last shots in his mouth, and bubbly cum started to ooze out
of his mouth, his lips tight around my shooting cock, all bubbly mixed
in with his spit. I just froze arched back and shot, and shot some
more.

I sat on the edge of the bed and lay back on my elbows. My ass was
just on the edge of the bed, my legs spread wide inviting him - legs
spread wide, holding my hard wet dick straight up in the air just for
him. I wanted to go again, non-stop.

Ed knelt between my legs, running his hands slowly up the inside of my
long lean tight thighs, up all along my sides, up to my pits. I closed
my eyes and felt him hold on to my hard upper arms, and I made my
biceps into hard round balls just for him. I closed my eyes and felt
him lick and kiss along the inner groove of my abs.

I could feel his wet face travel the length of my torso. He went down
again with little kisses all along my stomach, belly button, dick,
pubes and all, and ran his open mouth and tongue from my balls to the
still wet head and gobbled it up.

He even made a noise that sounded like "gobble."

He started to do what he does best. Even though I had just come I was
ready for more. But he stopped. I looked down at my dickhead sprouting
from his slowly stroking fist making wet circles upside his cheek, He
looked up at me with his blue eyes looking like he had done something
wrong and was really sorry.

"I've really got to take a dump. Bad!" he said.


He ran into the bathroom and I just lay there. I couldn't move, and
wondered where he'd learned to suck dicks like that. It was intense!

I ran the tips of my fingers on my wet dick and began to become aware
of where I was. I heard the birds sing. The yard was really quiet. It
was dawn, the light just breaking through the darkness and the
curtains.

I realized it must be close to 6 and that his Dad would be home soon.
I got up, smoothed out the sheet and folded the other one, lifted the
bed and put the pillows and sheet in the box underneath and closed it.
The cards were all over the floor underneath and I picked them up, put
them back in the box, found my clothes and started to dress. I heard
the toilet flush and Ed came out of the bathroom smiling, his hard
dick pointing up against his stomach.

"Your Dad's gonna be home soon," I said.

"Oh," he said. "You're right."

He picked up his clothes and took them to the bedroom and messed up
the carefully made bed a bit. He got his running clothes on too, and
said that his Dad really should have been there already.

I started to do my crunches and he got curious. I did my crunches but
only got to about 158. I did my pushups, rubbing my dick on the floor
every time, but only did to about 86. I didn't have the energy I
usually had - least not for pushups.

He tried to do crunches but I had to hold his feet down. Didn't do too
many. As I held his feet down I started to feel kind of disgusted with
him, and as he struggled with the pushups I really got kind of pissed
off.

I put on my shoes and picked up my backpack and said impatiently,
"let's go," running out the door. He struggled with his shoes and ran
out to catch up. But I was too far ahead. I felt mean and decided to
take an uphill trail after the over pass, and he followed. He got real
winded and must have been feeling the pain as I was. He called out for
me to stop. I turned as I ran and just yelled back,

"Come on pussy boy - make a man out of you." I knew it was mean and I
meant it to be mean.

He looked up at me startled but I only kept on running. He must have
stopped to rest 'cause he wasn't behind me after a while.

I ran by his house a couple for a couple of days. I didn't stop and he
just ran out to follow me. I did the steep ridge trail and he tried,
but he couldn't keep up with me. But after a couple of days he started
keeping  closer, so I just speeded up, yelling at him to catch up,
calling him "you faggot" and "queer."

We were running on guts alone. I was hurting too but I liked thinking
of how much more he must be hurting.

I stopped going past his house and ran alone. I think he started to
run alone too, and later on I could almost feel him behind me. But
when I turned he wasn't there. I made sure he didn't follow and ran on
steep hiking trails that went almost straight up to the crest.


One day I went to pick up the mail and Mrs. Hollings handed me a
letter from him that she said he had dropped off. I went by the
trailer and the awning was gone. There was a padlock on the door.

I didn't read the letter and just put it in my pocket of my old cut-
offs.

My Mom noticed my moods. I wasn't beating off every day but I did go
out to the outhouse just to sit and be by myself. She asked me once
why I was so snippy with my sisters. Another time she asked me to go
outside; that I was too angry and she couldn't deal with it. But she
never spoke sharp to me and knew when to leave me alone.

I really didn't know what was up with me either.

In late August, my Dad got a job training firefighters so we moved. My
new high school was a lot bigger and had a lot more kids. I was still
in my funk. I did my homework alone - not much else to do - no real
chores. I got good grades and my Mom was happy with me again.

One kid I made friends with played soccer so I went out for the soccer
team. It turns out I was good at it. My coach even told me that if I
kept my grades up and continued improving my soccer skills, I might
get a soccer scholarship maybe even to a UC. He knew a coach there. He
even got me a scholarship to soccer camp next summer.

I know my Mom didn't want to move from the house she was born in, but
she was right. The move was good for me and I started going back to
being someone I grew to like again.


One day I was cleaning the garage and I found an unpacked cardboard
box with my old running stuff and the cutoffs with Ed's letter in the
pocket. I thought I had thrown it away. But I hadn't thought about him
for a long time and opened it.

It said he was really sorry our friendship had tanked and that he
still liked me very much even though I really hurt him.

"Dad said it's life and that I will learn from it" he wrote.

His Dad had gotten a transfer to a project to design and build a high
speed rail line from Bakersfield to San Francisco.

"When I told you my Dad was an engineer you thought he drove trains.
But he's a structural engineer and designs and supervises building
bridges and trestles and things like that for the railroad. I thought
it was funny so I never told you," he wrote. He said he'd never been
in a "rural" area before and that he had enjoyed most of it, that it
was really beautiful "like you."

They were moving from Omaha, but that he was glad they were moving. He
said they had to move from Omaha. He was glad they were moving. He
said he didn't know where they were moving to, but that he would let
me know if I answered his letter, and gave me an address to write to
him and a phone number.

He signed it, "Love, Ed", with a couple of little hearts around it,
and underneath he printed his whole name followed by a III.

It had been almost a year. I had always wondered how he had gotten to
be such an expert cocksucker so I looked him up on Facebook. He was
really proud he had made the wrestling team at his new "gay friendly"
high school. He had pictures of himself, all buff in his wrestling
clothes, big chest and biceps bulging from his arms. He was holding a
trophy in one picture. Nothing on sucking cocks though.

He was the same cheerful Ed. No longer fat but still cheerful and
happy.

I went back to his old posts and saw a picture of him and his Dad,
posted last summer.

Underneath it said, "My Dad. He's really my Uncle. He took me in when
my parents gave up on me. He always lets me be who I am. He's gay
too."

He had pictures and selfies with his Uncle, One, in front of the
trailer, looking just like I remembered him, but smiling a little,
only a little thin smile.

I also found a picture of us when were running together - me shirtless
-and him just the way he was in his grungy t-shirt. I didn't remember
when he took the picture with the meadow at our back. I remembered the
stories he and the squirrels used to tell me.

He had a bunch of pictures of me. Underneath he wrote "The love of my
life." We both looked smiling and happy.

It made me really sad for some reason, just looking at our picture...
and the letter... and remembering. Really sad... how mean I'd been...
A kind of sweet, deep sad...

I sat back from my computer and thought about all these things, the sadness
all over me. I finally clicked a "like" under the picture of him and his
wrestling team and the one with him holding the trophy, where he was
smiling from ear to ear. A few days later I found a like from him under
pictures of me and the soccer team on my Facebook page.

We're not friends on Facebook or anything, but we do keep up with each
other just liking stuff on our pages sometimes.

Hey, Ed.