Date: Thu, 6 Apr 2006 21:47:37 -0500
From: H. Rick Cantwell <zestful@myexcel.com>
Subject: Rascal 30

Rascal Part Thirty
Chickens Little and Any Cock'll Doodle

	Pecker measuring was going well, Ryan was keeping the other
guests entertained with a chicken fight and his own variation of Sit
and Spin.  By the time Rascal announced there would be one more game
before lunch, the crowd was mingling well together, too.  My Sit and
Spin partner, Wally and I swam over to hang off the
end of the diving board to talk to Ryan.  "Rascal, this is Wally.
He's interested in meeting you."
	"Hi, Wally," Ryan said, kneeling on the end of the diving board
to shake his hand.  Then he sat with his legs dangling over the end
with his knees apart so his dick and balls hung over the edge.
	"I was telling Spunky that my son, JJ, and I like three-ways
and I was wondering if you'd be interested in ... uh ..."
	"Just three?" Ryan asked.
	"It can be more," Wally said, "but JJ and I always share.  It
kinda makes us feel more like a couple .. a married couple but he still
gets to experience sex with others.  That's not anything I'd want him
to miss out on."
	"Miss out on what?" a young man asked as he swam up to hang
lightly off Wally's shoulder.
	"I want you to be able to experience sex with others so you don't
miss out on life's little pleasures.  Otherwise you could end up
blaming me for depriving you of your natural expression of ..."
	"The thrill of the chase?" I asked.
	"Hunt and gather?" Ryan asked.
	"Hunt and gather?" I said, looking at Ryan, confused.
	"Hunt meat and gather nuts," Ryan said impishly.
	"Well, in that case," JJ said, looking at Ryan's crotch, "I'd
definitely go hunting for you.  You've got both in one package."
	"I was hoping you'd say that," Wally said.  "I was asking Rascal
if he'd be interested in a three-way."
	"Hell yeah!" JJ said.
	It looked like Ryan was blushing.  I knew he had been out in the
sun for quite a while but the coloration was all wrong for sunburn.
Then it occurred to me that Rascal was always the pursuer in sexual
conquests--me, Jason, Tyler and Jamie all fell under Ryan's persuasive
control, to mention only a few.  'Even Lyle wasn't immune,' I thought.
But I couldn't name one person who had pursued Ryan.  This was all new
to him and he was acting like a virgin--which, to this sort of thing,
he was.  He tried to say something but no words came out of his mouth.
	"I asked Spunky, too." Wally said, putting a hand on my shoulder
as a way of introducing me to his son.
	"Cool!" JJ said.  "You're Rascal's other dad, aren't you?"
	"Yeah," I said, surprised that he knew of my 'daddy' status.
	"I've been askin' around," JJ said.  "Most of the other guys here
I already know ... from department picnics and stuff."
	"I'm a fireman," Wally said, "but I get invited to a lot of
police picnics, too."
	"And I know Rascal ... well, I know OF him," JJ said.
	"He's quite a legend in the firehouse community ... for such a
cute little guy," Wally added.  "But you're the one who intrigues me.
I've wanted to meet the man who could tame the legend ever since I
first heard about you."
	It was my turn to blush.  "You really know how to flatter a guy,"
I said, truly flattered.
	"I'll say," Ryan said.  "He just flattered both of us in one
sentence."
	"And that was BEFORE he saw your tallywacker," JJ said.
	"I've known a few who were scared away by it," Ryan said.  Then
after pretending to think real hard, he said, "Nope, that's not true.
I can't think of a one."
	"So what's the next game?" I asked.
	"Oh shit, yeah!" Standing up and pulling on his flaccid cock
absentmindedly, Ryan called out, "Can I have your attention?"  When the
dull roar of conversation quieted down, Ryan said, "You've all heard of
a Slip 'N' Slide?"
	There were murmurs of wary agreement from the older crowd and
hoots of excitement from the younger contingent.
	"Well, we've got some old folks here today who might break a hip
or something if they go flopping down on the plastic water slide, so
we're gonna do it differently--so the old folks don't get hurt.  I'm
serious, some of these guys are older than Adam's first fart in the
Garden of Eden!"
	Chuckles rippled through the crowd from young and old alike.
Everyone knew Ryan and loved him for being honest and 'real' even at
the expense of others.  They knew he was never malicious with his
comments.
	"Can I get everyone who thinks they're too skinny to stand in the
shallow end over on the right side of the pool?"   There was some
discussions and accusations before a couple of thinner guys agreed to
moved over there.  "All you guys who know you're overweight, will you
move to the center of the pool?  All you other guys blessed with a buff
body like me, move to the left side."
	There were maybe a dozen people standing around outside the pool
--our cheering section.  I had no idea what they would be cheering for
but, if I knew Ryan, it would be worth it.
	"I'm gonna need three or four strong guys.  Any of you hunks
milling around the free booze table willing to help?  You don't have to
get wet.  We wouldn't want your tans to wash off."
	Three burly guys raised their hands even after Ryan's insult--or
inspired BY it.
	"Okay, starting with the in-shape guys, we're gonna build three
bridges.  Choose the three strongest among you.  They're gonna be the
anchors of the bridge.  They're gonna hold on to the rope I've strung
along the left length of the pool.
	Looking in the pool, I saw that Ryan had anchored a nylon rope to
the spill vent grates that were located on opposite ends of the pool.
	"Then we'll add some more buff guys, some hefty weights and end
up with some more buff dudes on the other end."
	"Say what?" half a dozen guys asked almost simultaneously.
	"I'll walk you through it.  'Eight is Enough,' float on your back
and grab the rope."  Once Eight was in position, Ryan said, "Flame guy
... the father ... float on your back and ease between Eight's legs
until you can grab his thighs.  Maybe some of you other guys can help
guide him in and help hold him in a floating position until we get the
bridge finished."
	With the help of one guy on each side, Flame "moored" himself
between Eight's legs.
	"Float closer ... until your head is just touching his balls.
Okay, now we need a couple of heavier guys.  Line up the same way Flame
did."
	Several more guys joined the human chain until the legs of the
last guy could be held by one of the brawny volunteers as they leaned
over the side to grip his ankles.  Two more bridges were created, but
Ryan made sure none of the thinner guys were used.
	"If everyone is comfortable, we'll begin the Slip 'N' Slide.  You
guys," Ryan said, pointing to the thin ones, "are going to begin at one
end, slide the full length of the bridge, move over to the next bridge,
slide down to the other end and back up the third bridge.  Let's start
with the smallest fella first--just to make sure this harebrained
scheme of mine works.  I'm gonna be right here as a lifeguard in case
you slip off, so don't be afraid, okay?"
	A twelve year old crawled between the legs of the first chain
member and pulled himself up until his belly was on the guy's crotch.
	The brawny guy, holding the legs of the human bridge, pulled back
from the extra weight and pulled the guy's ankles together so the boy
wouldn't slip back into the water.
	The boy's face inched its way up the man's chest, past his face
and on toward the next guy.  His face was buried in the crotch of the
next guy as he gripped the guy's arms to pull himself along.  The water
made the sliding part easy but the gripping part difficult.  As he
moved along the chain, his adolescent dick was dragged across the face
of the first man in the chain.
	The guys in all three chains whooped and hollered when they
realized the treat Rascal had devised for them.  As the boy moved
closer to the middle of the pool, his weight caused the heavy set guys
to swag deeper into the pool but the natural buoyancy of their body fat
helped to compensate for it.  The boy kept crawling until he reached
the end of that bridge.  Then he swam over to the second bridge.
	In the meantime, Ryan started another guy sliding along the first
bridge.  It was only then that I realized the inspired design of
Rascal's plan.  He had thin boys sliding face first over other men's
legs, crotches, chests and faces but he also had tall lanky fathers
doing the same thing.  By separating the guys by weight class, he
eliminated the father/son relationships.  He blew the age differential
out of the water, so to speak, because weight didn't necessarily
afflict the elderly anymore than it did the young.
	As the boy began his "slide" down the head-to-foot bridge, the
older man began sliding up the foot-to-head bridge.
	"Hey, are we allowed to sample any of these delicacies as they
slide by?" someone in one of the chains called out.
	"I'll tell you what," Ryan said, "anyone who has a problem with
it can go last.  Agreed?"
	I didn't hear any dissent but, then, my ears were submerged as
the twelve year old crawled across my face.  He was just as cute upside
down as I remembered him being right-side up.  I planned to surprise
him with a quick slurp on his dick as it passed by but I was the one
who got the surprise.  He gripped my dick and sucked it quickly.  Since
it was soft, he was able to suck quite a lot of it into his mouth
before he moved on.
	Later, when the adult slid by, his cock was already fully erect.
It sliced along my nose like a plump dagger.  I tried to capture it in
my mouth as it went by but it was at the wrong angle.  I noticed,
however, that the man stopped a little longer than he needed to at
the next guy down the chain from me--a young man of about sixteen as I
recalled.  I wondered if it was his son.  Then he moved on.  From my
viewpoint, all I saw was his ass quiver as he wiggled on down the
bridge of men and boys.  As he got to the middle, he slipped off the
rotund belly of one of the daddies.
	"Okay," Ryan called out.  "You have to start over.  Go to the
back of the line."
	Sputtering from the unexpected dunking, the man said, "You don't
mean all the way from the beginning, do you?"
	"Yep," Ryan said without any remorse.
	"I'm an old man," the middle-aged man groused.  "I'll never make
it.  My death will be on YOUR head!"
	"That's not ALL I want of yours on my head," Ryan said good-
naturedly.
	The guy chuckled as he took a few casual strokes before standing
at the back of the line of guys waiting their turn on the human Slip
'N' Slide.
	While I was waiting for the next guy to start down our bridge, a
tall lanky kid of maybe fifteen, I assessed my situation.  My biceps
were a little tired from gripping onto the guy's legs, so I relaxed a
little to discover I wouldn't sink.  The guy between my legs had long
hair and the gentle ripples in the water caused it to brush lightly
against my balls, sensuously.  By arching my back, I could force the
back of my head up against the balls and cock dangling between the legs
of the guy I was holding.  Over all, I wasn't in any kind of strain and
my muscles weren't getting overly tired.
	The lanky kid slid along the full length of my body like an
anaconda.  I felt every one of his muscles as he undulated them.  I
don't know if he was afraid of falling off or just glad to have close
body contact with so many men.  Either way, it was a pleasurable
experience for me.  Since we were both about six feet tall, it seemed
to take forever, which was fine with me.
	Before we were done with the game, about twenty slender men and
boys squirmed over our interlinked bodies.  Some were even courteous
enough to grope, squeeze, suck, poke, prod and otherwise please the men
and boys forming the bridges.  By the time Ryan called it quits, I was
beginning to get a little tired.  Then, links of the chain swam around
a little to stretch out the kinks before we crawled out of the pool.
	Hot dogs and hamburgers were tossed on the grill--one of those
gas and charcoal combination units.  Then Ryan wrestled out a huge
crock-pot of barbeque-flavored pulled pork.  The container was
supposed to be used for pot roasts, I think, but the deep oval pot
allowed him to make enough for everyone if they wanted it .. or lots of
leftovers.  I helped by bringing out serving trays stacked with buns.
Lyle followed with a tray of condiments.
	"The doctors get to eat first, since they're doing all the work,"
Ryan said.  "That way, they'll have longer to relax before going back
to work."
	The doctors looked around at the crowd as if wondering how many
more they had to measure.
	I said, "Whoever hasn't been measured, raise your hand."
	My best guess was it was less than half.
	"Hey, Ty, Come get your burger," Rascal called out.
	"What the hell are you spreading on my hamburger bun?" Tyler
asked.
	"Preparation H, because you're a pain in the ass!" Ryan said,
jokingly.
	"That's a burn," Flames' son said in the more current youth
vernacular and pointing accusingly at Tyler.
	Flame smiled and said, "Ryan, that's cold--even for you."
	"No, that's a burn," Flame Jr. said, "that's major freezer
burn," adapting his dad's 'cold' assessment to his own 'hot' one.
	Lyle came striding up with the doctors flanking either side.
Being naked while they were still fully clothed and wearing their white
lab coats, he looked like the meat in a medical white bread sandwich.
	Apparently having heard Ryan's remark, Lyle said, "Well, if it's a
pain in the ass, you're doing it all wrong."
	Flame said, "I heard it a little differently.  If it's a pain in
the ass, flip her over 'cuz you're using the wrong hole."
	"You guys wanna lose your clothes?" Ryan asked.
	"That's okay," Dr. Wasserdyne said, "we're working inside."
	"When in Rome," Dr. Zender said, as he began shucking his lab
coat.  "I deal with nude patients every day.  I'm not embarrassed by
nudity.  Shit, there are times when I'd like to get naked just to make
my patients feel more at ease."
	I watched as he shed his boxers to reveal a nice long fat cock.
I also noticed a long string of pre-cum glistening between his pee hole
and the crotch of his underpants.  Apparently, all the measuring that
was going on was getting to him on a physical level.
	"The meteorologist said it's gonna be a scorcher out here today,"
Ryan said, trying to coerce Dr. Wasserdyne into getting naked,
too.
	Tyler got an impish grin and said, "Dr. Zender is a meaty
urologist."
	For all of his discomfort, even Dr. Wasserdyne chuckled at the
remark.
	"So, is Preparation H bad for you if you eat it?" Tyler asked
seriously.
	"That's not Preparation H, Ty," Lyle said, "it's a special mayo
and wasabi horseradish combination."
	About then, the five Wards joined us and Ryan asked, "Daddy, can
we become nudists?"
	"You'll have to ask your mom."
	"In OUR house, that's as good as a no," Tyler said.
	"We could still be nudists, even if Mom doesn't want to be one,
can't we?" Ryan asked.
	"Well, most nudist camps like entire families to join.
Otherwise, it would become populated with too many of one gender--
mostly guys, I would imagine."
	"Nothin' wrong with that," Ryan said.
	"You don't join a nudist colony just to gawk at the men.  You
join to enjoy a community of like-minded people."
	"Sun worshipers?" Tyler asked.
	"We don't actually worship the sun," the senior Mr. Ward said.
"We have churches and synagogues.  Everyone has this wild idea nudists
are wife swappers or we're incestuous or we're pedophiles.  But I don't
think there's any more of that going on in the nudist communities than
there is in the general population.  I'll admit, the lifestyle allows a
little more freedom for 'discovery,' and 'adventure' but for the most
part, OUR kids are taught the same values as non-nudist kids.  Maybe
even more."
	All in all, the lunchtime conversation was kept light and non-
sexual, although there were a few fathers and sons who couldn't keep
their hands off each other.  The Wards, to my surprise, mingled freely
--and separately--among the adults.  From what little bits of their
conversations I was able to hear, I got the impression Able and Aaron
were asking what it was like to be a fireman or a cop.  Nate, the five
year old, was the darling of the crowd, both the older men as well as
the younger kids.  He was especially fascinated with Flame's and Flame
Junior's tattoos.
	When he started to touch Junior's ass, Flame shouted, "HOT!" and
Nate snatched his hand back.  "Never touch fire," Flame said like a
kindergarten teacher, "you'll get burned."
	"It's not real," Nate said, with no real conviction in his voice.
	"That's right, it's not, but you have to be real sure of what
you're doing before you play with fire."  Then, kneeling on one knee to
look Nate directly in the eyes, he asked, "What would you do if you
caught on fire?"
	Nate's brow furrowed while he thought.
	Everyone within earshot of the discussion was hoping Nate knew
the "Don't panic, Stop, Drop, and Roll" procedure.
	Looking over his shoulder, he said, "I'd jump in the pool."
	Everyone chuckled at his ingenuity.
	"What if there isn't a pool around?"  Flame went on to talk to
Nate like it was something he did every day.  Maybe he did, I didn't
know him well enough to know what he did for the fire department--or
even if he worked for the fire department.  Nate threw himself on the
grass and rolled around.  Several of the other younger boys followed
suit and soon they were chasing each other in a game of tag.
	Once the doctors went back inside to continue their research,
Ryan shouted, "Okay, guys, since we can't go in the water for an hour,
I'm gonna have to ask all of you to get a hard on.  Do it by whatever
means makes you feel good.  Once you're hard, you're gonna have to keep
it hard."
	"Can I suck you, Spunky?" Tyler asked, "or are you gonna have to
bartend again?"
	"Go ahead, Twerp," I said smiling, "why should I miss out on all
the fun?"
	The crowd seemed to be drinking responsibly, so I didn't think my
services were needed that much.
	"Thanks," Tyler said effusively.  "I get so much harder myself
when I'm sucking another guy's cock.  It stays hard longer, too."
	"Knock yourself out," I said, spacing my feet apart to make room
for his lithe body.
	As Tyler suckled me gently, I looked around at the pairings.
Some of the father/son teams immediately got into their
dominant/submissive roles with the son dutifully sucking his father.
Two pairs were just the opposite with the fathers almost groveling at
their sons' feet--except it was with admiration for their young sons'
bodies and cocks.  Others, it appeared, were branching out to meet new
meat.  I saw Ryan talking to his math teacher and his family.  Shortly
thereafter, they each began stroking their meat toward erections.
	Five-year-old Nate followed Ryan into the house.  Just when I
decided to go in to break up whatever it was that Ryan was doing with
the boy, I saw the kid carrying out a plastic milk crate filled with
colorful plastic toys.  The crate was almost as big as Nate but it was
lightweight, so he was only staggering under its awkward bulk.
	"You get to help me fit these on the guys.  Is that okay with
you?" Ryan asked Nate.
	"Uh huh," Nate said, beaming with pride for having been included.
	"We're gonna put 'em on their ... stiffies, Okay?"
	Nate looked at his father for permission.
	Mr. Ward gave a sharp nod to confirm it was okay.
	Nate's eyes widened in excitement as he nodded his head
affirmatively and, under his breath he giggled, "I get to ring the
ding-a-lings."
	I was proud of Ryan for talking to Nate like an adult--instead
of that "baby talk" tone most people use--but that he used a kids
term for "cock" when he was talking to Nate instead of the more vulgar
choices.  'My little boy's growing up,' I thought with equal amounts
of remorse and pride.
	To the crowd, Ryan said, "Okay, mingle around and look at each
other's hard-ons.  Try and match up with others whose cocks are as big
around as yours.  Don't worry about length, that doesn't matter at this
point."
	"Easy for you to say Obi Long Kenobi," one kid yelled out.
	As the crowd chuckled, they began sorting themselves by girth.  I
heard snippets of conversations like, "Wonder what bizarre shit the
kid's come up with this time?" and "Who cares, it's all fun!"
	I knew some of the dads were protective of their sons but, so
far, I hadn't seen any flare-up of jealousy.  Even so, I was keeping my
fingers crossed.  Between Kevin's controlling presence and Ryan's
natural talent to entertain, I didn't really expect anything to become
explosive.  I walked over to the small group of guys with massive girth
to their dicks and introduced myself to a few of them I didn't know.
	Ryan got our attention again.  "You've all played the game, 'Pass
The Orange,' where you put the orange under your chin and pass it on by
placing it under the next persons chin.  Well, this is a little
different."
	Murmurs arose that sounded like the crowd would have expected
nothing less from Rascal.
	"Nate is going to put a plastic quoits on the dicks of six
different guys--whichever one fits the best.  You've probably seen
these before," he said, holding up a pyramid of rings that diminished
in size as they were stacked on the central peg.  "Most toddlers have
played with similar toys.  Anyway, the guy who's wearing the ring has
to pass it on.  The challenge is that there will be six lines of guys
to choose from."
	As Nate began fitting plastic quoits rings over the erections of
some of the guys, I heard a voice in the back shout, "I don't
understand."
	"As soon as Nate's finished finding our first six volunteers,
I'll give you a demonstration."
	"Thanks," the anonymous voice shouted back.
	Faster than I expected for a five year old, Nate had the guys
fitted with the rings.
	Seeing Nate had fitted 'Flame' with a ring, Ryan asked, "Flame,
can I get you to step over here?"  Then he said, "Sorry, Tyler, I need
you, too.  Will you face Flame?"
	As they stood face to face, their cocks were almost at the same
level--height wise.  Flame's, however, looked like a telephone pole,
making Tyler's look about as big around as a pencil.
	"Now, we have to move the quoits from your dick to Tyler's
without using your hands."
	"It's too snug," Flame said.  "It won't move."
	"Tyler, use your cock to move it along Flame's length until it
gets to the head of his dick.  Then, Flame, you're gonna have to bend
forward, kinda like you're gonna do a 'docking' with Tyler so it
doesn't slip back down, until you can jiggle it onto Tyler's dick."
	Everyone cheered, laughed and encouraged the two until Tyler
finally had the ring around the base of his cock.  On Flame, it looked
like a purple plastic wedding band.  On Tyler's cock, it looked more
like a bangle bracelet.
	"That's the easy part," Ryan said.  Looking around the crowd, he
shouted, "I told a guy a little while ago that he had a donkey dick.
Will you come forward?"  When he got to the front, Ryan said, "I guess
it would be more polite if I asked you your name."
	"David," the guy said shyly.
	"Okay," Ryan said loud enough for all to hear, "Donkey Dick Dave
will demonstrate the hard part."  Ryan looked directly at the guy's
hard-on and said, "And he definitely has a hard part.  What Tyler has
to do is move the ring from HIS dick to YOUR dick."
	"It'll never fit," Dave said.
	"That's where it gets tough for guys blessed with a donkey dick
... and you truly are blessed ... I hope you know that."
	Once again, Rascal was turning a politically incorrect situation
--a positively IRREVERENT situation--into a platform where he could
praise a guy for what many would consider a detriment.
	Again, the guy blushed.  "Except in situations like this," Dave
murmured.
	"Tyler, help him move the ring."
	Naturally, Tyler acted like he did this sort of thing every day.
He snagged David's bulbous cock head underneath the ring dangling from
his cock and slipped the ring off his erection with no resistance.
"You just have to balance it on the head of your dick until you can
transfer it to the next guy," Tyler said.
	"But," Ryan said, plucking the ring off of David's cockhead--
since it was too fat to go down the shaft--"there's another way you
can move the donuts along.  Thanks, Dave, I'll talk with you later.
I've really gotta try taking that monster up my ass--but only with
some paramedics standing by."
	Dave's smile beamed as he sneaked back into the crowd even
though he blushed the whole way.
	"Flame, can I use you again?"
	"You can use me any way you want as long as my son gets the same
treatment."
	"It's a deal," Ryan said, gripping Flames fat erection and
pushing the ring down its length.  "Flame Junior, you wanna help
demonstrate?"
	Junior stepped forward.
	"Okay, Junior, stand between Flame and Tyler but face the crowd
so they can see what you're doing."  Ryan helped position him.  "The
other way you can move the donut from person to person is to have a
third member of your team move it along ... using only his nose."
	Without any more instruction, Junior knelt and began dragging his
nose across the ring.  Because his dad's cock was so fat, it didn't
move easily.  Again, the crowd cheered when the donut spilled safely
down the length of Tyler's slender erection.
	"Donkey Dick Dave, I need you again," Ryan shouted like a mother
calling an errant child.
	Dave slunk forward, pulling on his cock as he walked.
	Looking around, I saw most of the guys were fondling or jacking
their cocks to maintain their erections.  Others were able to remain
hard just by watching the demonstration.  Naturally, figuring I knew
how Ryan's mind worked, I started looking for long thin cocks to be on
MY team.
	"Now," Ryan said, "move the donut from Tyler's dick to Dave's
dick."
	Junior easily slid the plastic donut up Tyler's erection and onto
Dave's bulbous cock meat.
	"Junior, using only your nose to hold it in place, walk with Dave
over to Spunky and transfer the donut."
	Bent at the waist with his nose pretty much buried in Donkey Dick
Dave's piss slit, Junior crab-walked with Dave.  Since all he could see
was Dave's feet, it was an added challenge.
	The ring perched on the top of Dave's cock didn't slip easily
onto my cock because mine doesn't stand upright.  Dave had to work
carefully with Junior's movements to "dock" my downward pointing cock
with Dave's piss slit.  Then they used Junior's nose and Dave's
cockhead to nudge the ring up the length of my cock.
	Everyone cheered their success.
	"Any questions?" Ryan asked.  Hearing none, he continued.  "Okay,
count off one through six.   Then form six single file lines around the
pool so we can all watch each others' progress."
	'So much for choosing MY team,' I thought.  'Hell, so much for
trying to out-think Rascal!'
	After the count-off was complete and the teams assembled to
encircle the pool, Ryan said, "You can rearrange your team any way you
want--big to little, thin to fat, whatever."
	After a little shuffling around, Ryan positioned each of the guys
with the quoits around their hard-ons--one at the head of each line.
	"Have fun, guys," Ryan called out.
	While waiting for my turn to don the donut, I noticed that, once
again, Ryan had successfully separated the dads from their sons.  It's
a known fact that people don't usually mix--even at functions called
mixers.  They find a friend or meet one or two new friends and from
then on, they group themselves with people they know.  Seldom do they
seek to enlarge that group.  That goes for business Christmas parties
as well as lunch time in the cafeteria.  One would think family
reunions would be different but even there, family units tend to
gravitate to the same people they've always been comfortable with to
the exclusion of new family members--like those who married nieces,
nephews, or cousins.
	I was getting the impression Ryan was teaching the overly
protective dads how to share and to prove to them, at the same time,
that their sons could be trusted away from their dads.
	Because of Ryan's efforts, I noticed the firemen who were
congregating together at the beginning of the party were now mixing
more readily with the policemen--that is, if biceps, badges and
shields were any indication.  Two particularly hot guys were standing
near the middle of the line I was in.  Both sported USMC tattoos but
one had a firefighters cross, the other a policeman's shield tattooed
on his biceps.  From their body language--scoping each other out
carefully--I could tell they were meeting for the first time.
	My thoughts were interrupted when I felt someone tap my shoulder
at the same time someone tapped my thigh.  I turned and looked down at
the same time.  A cherub-like creature was on his knees with his nose
holding a pink quoits on the tip end of a fat cock--not as fat as
Dave's but still formidable.
	"Oh fuck!" Fat Dick said.  "Can't you get it hard for us?"
	"It is hard," I said.
	"We're screwed," Cherub said.  In his face-down position, it
looked like he might be talking to a worm on the ground.
	"Just bend your knees until the head of your dick docks with
mine," I said to Fat Dick.  "Then this sweet little cherub can use his
nose on one side while you use that fat sword of yours to push it up my
shaft.  Since I'm hard, it won't bend too much, so it should slip on
fairly easily."
	As expected, the ring slipped on with little to no effort.  Then
it was Fat Dick's turn to use his nose to move it down onto the man
behind me.
	"I think it'll slide easier if I get it wet," Fat Dick said.
	"Can't hurt," I said ... but I was wrong.  As he sucked, my
pecker plumped up a little more, tightening the ring at the base of my
cock.
	"Oops," Fat Dick said as he tried to nudge it off.
	The guy I was trying to transfer it to was leaking pre-cum so I
had him wipe the slime onto my cock by swaying his hips back and forth.
There was so much of it, a long string formed a swag between Fat Dick's
nose and my pink donut.  After a lot of laughter--which helped deflate
my boner a little--the ring made its descent onto "Drippy's" much
smaller dick.
	"Think I should dry that cock off a little?" Fat Dick asked
Drippy.
	"Sure," Drippy said.  "I'm the last one in line, anyway."
	I waited until the job was done before I playfully chided, "Hey,
that was my job!"
	"Oh, sorry," Fat Dick said.  "It just looked so inviting."
	"Well, I guess I'll have to sample the wares a little later," I
said to Drippy.
	Ryan announced another line as the winner because Fat Dick,
Drippy and I forgot to shout out we were done.  About that time,
Flame and Junior strode up to me.
	"Son," Flame said, "show Spunky what a good cocksucker you are."
	Dropping to his knees, Flame Jr. said, "I hear YOU'RE a pretty
good cocksucker, too."
	"There was a time when I could suck chrome off a bumper."
	Seeing the confused look on his son's face, he said, "Nowadays
they paint the bumper the same color as the car but trust me, that
means he's very good."
	Junior did a superior job of sucking my cock.  He deep-throated
it on the second pass and took it that deep for ten more strokes before
he pulled back.  His tongue swirled around my crown, poked into my piss
slit and slathered my cum tube before deep-throating me ten more times.
	"Excellent," I said.  "Do you mind if I go down on HIM?" I asked
Flame since I wasn't sure of their relationship.
	"He's not exclusive, if that's what you mean."
	"So your cock's not off limits, either?"
	"Hell no!"
	I urged Junior to his feet at the same time I knelt in front of
them.  I sucked Junior for a few strokes and then his dad.  As I moved
back to Junior, I looked up to see they were kissing.
	While I was distracted, Jason must have arrived because I heard
him say to Rascal, "This guy says he's been ringing the bell at the
gate for twenty minutes, so when I got here, I let him in."
	Looking over, I saw that Jason and the new arrival had both
stripped.  He looked familiar.  'It's amazing,' I thought, 'we so often
associate a name with what a person is wearing, like a white lab coat
on a pharmacist or a stethoscope around doctor's a neck.
	"Gotta go get my muscle measured," Jason said as he headed toward
the house.
	"Hi, Ronny," Ryan said quizzically to the man who accompanied
Jason in.  "I didn't expect to see you here today."
	"Little dude," Ronny said, "I didn't know you'd be here.  You
sure do get around.  How come you don't transport no more?"
	"Got my own car."
	"Bummer.  I sure miss seeing ya."  Then Ronny looked directly at
Ryan's crotch and said, "If I'da known you were packin', I'da tried a
little harder to get in your pants.  Whew!  You're a mouthful, that's
for sure."
	"Thanks," Ryan said noncommittally.  "So how come you showed up
here?
	I stopped sucking Flame and Jr. to stand slightly behind Ryan.
	"A friend of mine, this dude named Kevin, knew about this party.
He told me the dude hosting the party might be able to help me."
	"Oh?" Ryan asked warily.  "How's that?"
	"Well, actually, I can help him.  I've got some information he
could use."
	"The bus schedule's changing?" Ryan asked.
	With the metaphorical light bulb over my head, I recalled where
I'd seen him but, without the security guard uniform, I didn't
recognize him.
	"I heard he was with the FBI or CIA or something like that.  DEA?
One of them alphabetical agencies."
	"You in some kind of trouble?" Ryan asked curtly.
	"Hi, my name's Dick," I said, extending my right hand and
stabbing Ryan in the middle of the shoulder blades with my left
forefinger, hoping Ryan would remember his manners.
	"Hi," Ronny said, "nice to meetcha.  Your momma sure gave you the
right name, dude!"
	His eyes never left my package the whole time he was talking.  I
got the impression he didn't recognize me from the bus station men's
room--where I had caught him sucking off a young boy shortly after I
first met Ryan.
	Turning back to Ryan and oblivious to Ryan's rudeness, Ronny
said, "My brother's a coach over in Stallsbury and he's got some ...
idea ... that there's some shenanigans goin' on with some of the
teams."
	"What kind of shenanigans?" I asked before Ryan could alienate
Ronny any further.
	"Don't know.  Like I say, my brother asked me to ask Kevin's
friend to contact him ... my brother, that is."
	"And his name is?" Ryan asked.
	"Don't know the dude's name."
	"No, the name of your brother," Ryan said politely--politely for
Rascal.
	"Coach Wallace.  Spencer Wallace.  Over in Stallsbury.  They only
got one school.  Shouldn't be hard to find him."
	"He doesn't have a phone?" Ryan asked tersely.
	"My brother says he would prefer a face-to-face meetin'.  Says he
don't trust his information leakin' out ... if you know what I mean."
	"In case there's a reward?" I asked.  I noticed Ronny was
drifting into a small town, backwater, speech pattern just thinking
about home.  "Ryan," I said, "Why don't you go get Zack's dad and ask
Lyle to join us, too.  Would you?"
	By asking Rascal the way I did, I knew he would pick up on the
fact that I was trying to protect Coach's status as a coach and Lyle's
as our host.
	Picking up on my intended ruse, Ryan said, "Okay."
	"Do you drink, Ronny?" I asked.
	"Scotch, if you've got it."
	"If we don't have it, they don't make it," I said good-naturedly,
wrapping my arm around his bare shoulder to direct him toward the booze
table.  While I poured Ronny's drink, I looked over the crowd.  I saw
Ryan talking to Tyler and pointing in our direction.  I figured Ryan
knew where I was headed.  A couple of drinks to loosen Ronny's tongue,
a young boy, like Tyler, who looked more like twelve than fifteen--
because of his "Merlin's wand" dick--and a cozy corner to sit in might
just get us a lot further than Ryan's brusqueness.
	Tyler walked up like he had no idea I was busy and said in a
little boy voice, "Can I have some pop, please?"
	"Sure, son," I said, handing him a Pepsi.
	"He's your son?" Ronny asked like a hungry wolf.  His cock
twitched as he said it.
	"No, he belongs to one of these other guys.  I'm single.  Like to
play the field, ya know?"  I figured if Ronny was single, he might feel
more comfortable knowing there was at least one other single man here.
	"You can play with me," Tyler said, bashfully.
	'What a great little actor he's turning out to be,' I thought.
"Maybe later, son.  I'm trying to get to know my new friend, here."
	"But, hey, stick around," Ronny said quickly.  "You never know
when, uh ... we'll run out of conversation."
	Nudging Ronny toward the out-of-the-way pool chairs, I said, "We
can sit over here."
	Before I sat down, I saw Ryan talking to Zack, Coach and Lyle.
His hand motions indicated he was telling them to hold off a minute or
two before coming over.  As soon as Ronny sat down, Tyler stood next to
him--within easy reach of both of us.
	Sitting down, I let my legs straddle the lounge chair so my feet
were on the ground.  My dick and balls rested heavily on the plastic
webbing.  "Boy's got a nice butt, dontcha think?" I said, adopting a
down-home twang of my own.  I reached up and patted Tyler's left butt
cheek.
	"Mighty fine," Ronny said, cupping Tyler's right cheek but not
releasing it right away.  He rubbed it lightly.
	Tyler looked at me and I gave him the visual command to stay
soft.  He winked conspiratorially, so I knew Ryan had told him Ronny
was into young boys.
	"So, you have any children, Ronny?"
	"No, I'm single."
	"Marriage only puts a ring on it.  It don't put a lock on it," I
said.
	"Well, I'm not into ... uh ... breedin', if you catch my drift."
	"Like an avalanche," I said.  "I'm the same way."
	"Really?" Ronny said surprised.  "I heard this was a father-and-
son shindig."
	"I'm the hired help.  Bartender and all-around clean-up man once
this winds down."  I noticed he wasn't drinking as fast as I was
hoping, so I asked casually, "Care for another drink?"
	"Sure," Ronny said, looking at the amount he had left.  He tossed
it back like it was a shot instead of a lowball.
	"Boy, get my friend, here, two fingers of scotch, will ya?
Better make that three of YOUR fingers."
	"Oh boy! Can I?" Tyler asked childishly, like it was a forbidden
treat to pour liquor into a glass.
	While he was gone, I asked, "You into boys, are you?"
	"Well, I wouldn't turn one away for getting cookie crumbs in the
bed sheets, if you know what I mean."
	"There's plenty to look at here but I'd be careful about which
ones I touched.  Most of 'em are straight and so are their dads."
	"Really?  I thought this ..."
	"Nope, this here's a scientific survey or something," I said.
"How young?"
	"Pretty much any age as long as they're willin'.  I don't much
cotton to folks forcin' 'em but I don't like sayin' no to 'em, neither.
If they want to learn, I'm willin' to teach, if ya ..."
	"Yeah, I get your drift."  His repetitious phrasing was beginning
to irritate me.  "There's one little fella here you might like."
	"This one's just fine ... for now," Ronny said as Tyler returned.
	"Would you like Ronny to suck you, boy?" I asked unceremoniously.
	"I've never been sucked before," Tyler lied shyly.
	"Then you're in for a treat, boy," I said.
	Ronny jumped at the chance, leaning forward to suck Tyler.
	A frown from me reminded Tyler to stay soft--little boy soft.
	A minute later, Coach strode up.  Even without clothes, he was
recognizable as a high school coach--at least to me.  Not knowing
Coach's first name--I'd always called him Coach--so I said brightly,
"Tom, I'd like you to meet Ronny."
	Releasing Tyler's dick from his cock-hungry mouth, Ronny said,
"Nice to meetcha."
	Then Lyle walked up.
	"Ronny, this is Harry," I said, introducing him to Lyle.  I
hoped Ronny wouldn't pick up on my lame 'Tom, Dick and Harry'
reference.
	"The boy says you know Coach Wallace," Coach said, like HE was
in charge instead of Lyle.
	Ryan was right on top of everything.  He made sure his dad
remained anonymous by instructing Coach to interrogate Ronny.
	"He's my brother."
	"Boy," I said to Tyler, "Ronny's drink needs refilling."
	Ronny gulped down what was in the glass without looking to see
it was still two-thirds full.
	"Sorry, mister," Tyler said politely, "I was distracted."
Then he giggled like a little schoolboy as he went to refill the
glass.
	"You say he has some important information?" Coach asked, like
Ronny was an important dignitary.
	"Yeah."
	"But you don't know what it is," Coach said.
	"Something about several boys from several different schools in
the conference coming up missing."
	"What!" Coach shouted, eyeing Lyle like maybe this WAS something
his agency really should investigate.
	"Not missing as in abducted or anything.  They just didn't show
up for the final competition."
	Everyone settled back to normal.
	"And he thought that was unusual because ...?" Coach inquired.
	"You'd have to ask him.  Like I say, he didn't tell me all the
details.  I don't have a college degree, you know.  I'm just the high
school dropout of the family."
	Figuring Ronny was starting to get belligerent from the booze, I
motioned for Zack to come over.  Ronny apparently had been as
much help as he could be.  "Ronny, this is Zack.  He likes guys ..."
then rolling my eyes, I said, "... if you catch my drift."
	Zack jumped onto Ronny's chair facing him, straddling his thighs.
Then raising into a kneeling position, he asked, "Wanna suck me?"
	"So, Ronny, how do we meet up with your brother if we
can't call him to make arrangements?" Lyle asked, before Ronny got too
distracted.
	"Tell me when you can meet with him and he'll meet you at the
restaurant just outside of town.  I'll give you directions."
	"Next Saturday?" Lyle asked, looking at me rather than Ronny.
"I'll need a driver."
	"Sure thing," I said.
	"Sure," Ronny said, thinking he was talking to him before
realizing it was directed at me.
	"What time?" I asked Ronny.
	"He said ... uh ... 2:30 for lunch ... any day but ...
Wednesday, so Saturday will work."  Then Ronny went back to sucking
Zack.
	"You do this good," Zack said, like he'd never had a blowjob of
this caliber before--drunk and sloppy.  "Can I have your ... you know,
phone number, so we can hook up sometime?"
	"Sure, sweet thing," Ronny said, "anything for you."
	When Zack scampishly smiled up at Lyle, I knew Zack wanted the
number so Lyle could get in touch with Ronny again--even if it meant
tracking him down by satellite triangulation.
	Behind Ronny's back, I gave Zack two thumbs up and a proud wink.
Coach rubbed his son's shoulders lovingly, probably figuring out Zack's
real motive, too.
	"Next Saturday then," Lyle said as he left to go back in the
house--probably to make arrangements at work.
	The afternoon seemed to speed by and dusk turned to dark.  The
pool lights were turned on and flood lights that were aimed up at the
trees turned the pool into a safe--but seductive, nonetheless--party
area.  Everyone but the true die-hards left around eight PM.  By ten
PM, the last of the guests left.
	Since I had to work on Sunday, Ryan and I promised Lyle we
would clean up the next day.  While at work, Jason volunteered to
help and enlisted the assistance of his kids.  AFter I got off work Sunday,
I picked up Jason, Tyler and Taylor and drove over to Rascal's. Taylor
wanted to know all about what had gone on and what everyone looked like.
	As I drove Jason and the kids home afterward, they began kidding
their dad about all the things they were going to do once they got
home--sexy things--and asked if I wanted to join in.  I told them I was
eager to hear all about it.

To be continued.

Thanks for continuing to read Rascal.  Keep in touch with me at my NEW
email address: jockhunger@yahoo.com  PS I'm still looking for an agent or
publisher!