Date: Sat, 28 May 2011 21:17:33 -0700 (PDT)
From: Richard Small <smaller43@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Afterparty - Chapter 12

Copyright Rick Small, 2011

This story depicts sexual situations among adult males.  If you are not old
enough in your jurisdiction to read this, or if you are offended by such
stories, please leave.  The characters and events are solely the product of
the author's fevered imagination.  In the real world, there are risks
involved in sexual encounters; always play safe.  This is a quiet chapter;
the next one will be considerably hotter.  The story is copyright to the
author; please be courteous and do not copy or re-post.

The Afterparty
Chapter 12

The drive to Mill Creek took nearly four hours.  They took two cars –
Tim drove Chad and Jake in his, Joe took his boys.  By the time they
reached the exit from the interstate, all six were ready for a pit stop.
They pulled off into a rest area and took care of business quickly, filling
the men's room in a wave and then walking around the place for a few
minutes to get the circulation back in their legs.  They had sandwiches and
sodas, and ate at one of the picnic tables, not hurrying but not wasting
time, either.  The Valley was hot and muggy but fresh air was a nice change
from the air conditioning in the cars.  They walked around for a few
minutes, all took another leak, and then piled back in for the last leg of
the trip.

Their route took them onto narrower local roads, then onto a country road
that had seen better days, finally onto a dirt track marked by a "Private"
sign tacked to the post of a barbed wire fence.  The track headed straight
into woods, but as soon as it disappeared into the trees it doglegged
twice, so the cabin was completely hidden from whoever might pass on the
County road.  The track looked as though it hadn't been used years, with
grass growing in the center and deep underbrush on both sides.  But the
shadowed seclusion ended abruptly when they reached the cabin, opening on a
cleared area of about an acre.  The grass was knee high, with Queen Anne's
lace blooming here and there, and the cabin marking the far edge of the
clearing.

Tim and Joe pulled up next to the battered old truck parked at the side of
the house and stepped out of their cars, the boys following suit almost
instantly.

"Hello, the house!" Tim yelled, popping the trunk and hauling out the first
of the equipment.

After a couple of minutes, a figure could be seen behind the screen door,
and then it was flung open and Max came out beaming, his sturdy figure clad
in a wife beater and cutoff Levi's that barely hung onto his hips.  Thick
curls of steel-colored fur cascaded over the top of the undershirt,
matching the closely clipped hair on his head.  His blue eyes were
bracketed by a network of laugh lines, and he had a carefully trimmed
silvery moustache.

"Hello, boys," he said, stepping off the long porch.  "Great to see you."
He wrapped Tim and Joe in bear hugs, then stopped and counted the younger
generation.  "I see four grand-nephews here," he said, "three of my own and
one of somebody else's, I think.  Now, who's who?" He laughed.  "Not that
it makes a damn bit of difference," he added, "but it's been a long time
since I saw any of you."

Joe identified the boys one by one, ending with Jake, "our new nephew".
Each in turn was welcomed with the same bear hug Max had given Tim and Joe,
and then he stepped back and looked them all over, his head tilted
slightly.

"There's certainly enough variety here," Max said, eyeing the boys.  "Well,
come on in.  I was just sitting on the back porch, listening to the river."

The place was bigger than it looked – big enough for four smallish
bedrooms along the east end of the main room, a galley kitchen and a
washroom along the west end, and a fireplace in the middle of the river
side.  A couple of sofas and several chairs were scattered around the main
room, with various ottomans and side tables, and the floor was covered with
a large braided rag rug.  Bookcases held paperbacks and a few board games,
and there were candlesticks with reflectors scattered around the room.
Everything was clean and tidy – "shipshape", Max called it – but
there was no evidence of a woman's touch.  The house looked lived-in and
completely masculine.

They soon had the food and bedrolls taken care of, and Max opened a beer
when he saw everything was put away.  "Grab yourselves something to drink
and come on out to the porch," he said.  "I'm going to sit easy, and I
recommend you do the same." He led the way to more comfortable chairs and a
couple of long porch swings.  Popping the top button on his shorts, he
lowered himself into a battered old rocking chair and turned his attention
to Tim and Joe.

"So," he said, letting the word sit alone.  "You got all the women out of
your lives at last.  Good for you!"

"Marcie was the last, Uncle Max," Tim said.  "And probably the easiest.
Now all I have to do is pay off the bills."

"Which we've decided to help with," Joe continued.  "Chad and I moved in a
couple of weeks ago.  So far, it's been pretty good."

"You boys always did get along pretty well," Max observed.  Tim and Joe
exchanged a look.  Max ignored it.  "No reason for you not to get along
now.  In fact, if I remember, you were pretty much inseparable as kids.
Don't suppose that would have changed much, with the females out of the
way."

"It does sort of fill up the house," Tim said.  "But Joe persuaded me that
the rent they're paying would be a help, and I have to admit I enjoy having
company in the evenings."

"Sounds like you've got more than company," Max said.  "Sounds like a
brand-new family happening there."

Tim laughed and took a pull on his beer.  The light on the river was
bright, but the air was cooled by the moving water.  He wiggled his toes on
the porch boards and leaned back.  Life was good.

"You boys want to go in swimming, you can," Max observed, looking at the
younger generation.  "Current's not too bad here, and you won't freeze your
tackle off even this early in the season.  I don't recommend fancy diving,
though.  River's not that deep."

Chad was the first to stand and drop his shorts.  He was stripped and
striding toward the water before the rest of them could react to Max's
invitation.

Max laughed.  "I see you've got one water-trained, anyhow," he said to Tim.
"And a mighty fine specimen, at that." He winked and sat back in his chair.

"Ah, they're all pretty fine," Joe said, watching the rest of the boys
strip and head for the water.  "And they're all trained.  I don't think
Tim's pool has seen a suit since the wedding."

"That's the best way," Max agreed, taking a pull on his beer.

"You going in, Uncle Max?" Tim asked.

"Oh, sure – later," Max answered.  "I'm still waiting for my buddy Walt.
He's coming up, too.  Then the bedrooms 'll be full.  Any more fellows come
along, they'll have to sleep in the swings or on the sofas."

"Or triple up," Joe suggested.

"Not a bad idea on cold nights, but not so great in weather like this," Max
responded.  "Still.  Something to think about."

They'd been watching the guys' horseplay in the river for a half-hour or so
when the sound of an approaching car could be heard.  A few minutes later,
a door slammed and a deep voice saluted the house.

"That's Walt," Max said, getting out of his chair.  He went into the house
and shortly reappeared with a man the color of fresh-brewed coffee.  His
hair was clipped short, tight curled and black against his dark skin.  As
introductions were made, Tim and Joe both noted Walt's warm, dry handshake
and penetrating green eyes.  Joe's brows lifted with pleasure as he
realized Walt was well matched in size to Tim and Max, and he speculated
briefly on the "buddy" part of Max's earlier remarks.

"Well," Walt said after introductions had been made, "looks like the gang's
all here."

"All except my nephew Mike," Max said.  "Haven't been able to get him up
here in years."

"Not interested in fishing?"

"Far as I can tell.  Or much of anything else." Max snorted.  "Hey, Chad,"
he yelled.  "What does your dad do in his spare time?"

Chad turned to look up at the porch.  "Watches TV, mostly, and grumbles at
the news," he yelled back.

"See?" Max said.  "Glued to his recliner."

"Shit, he's too young for that," Walt said, grinning.

"That's what we always tell him," Tim said.  "I tried to get him interested
in my gym, Joe's invited him to ballgames, but he just sits."

Chad came striding up the steps and shook Walt's hand.  "You guys talking
about Dad?" he asked, looking around.

"Talking about how he's married to his easy chair," Joe said.

"Well, if you had electricity maybe he'd come up," Chad teased.  "But if he
can't get his ESPN, he won't be visiting any time soon."

"You never told him about the games we play?" Walt asked Max.

"Naw.  Didn't seem like he'd be interested.  I expect the only game he
plays is Monday night football.  Maybe he strokes off in the shower once a
week."

"Uncle Max!" Chad exclaimed.  "Gross!"

"What? Your dad stroking off? How else is he gonna drain those balls? Your
mom's no inspiration."

Chad laughed.  "Yeah, I guess you're right, there." He headed for the
kitchen to get a beer.  "Anybody want a refill? Walt, get you a beer?"

"Yeah, thanks, that'd be great," Walt answered, settling into the rocker
next to Max.  He popped the top button of his jeans and leaned back, ankles
crossed.  "Damn, it's good to be here," he said, looking over at Max.
"Traffic out of Sacramento was misery."

Jake, Cam and Doug emerged from the water and swarmed the porch, dripping
and laughing.  More introductions were made and the boys went inside to get
drinks as Chad came out.  He handed a bottle to Walt and settled into the
nearest swing, still damp but no longer dripping.

"How come you're not in the water yet, Uncle Max?" he asked.

"I was just waiting for Walt here," Max said, looking over at his friend.
"Didn't want to greet him nekkid and dripping."

"Wouldn't be the first time, though," Walt observed, grinning.

Max winked but let the remark slide.  "You fellows ready to swim?" he asked
Tim and Joe.

For answer, Tim stood and stripped, pulling off his shirt and dropping his
shorts on his chair.  Joe followed suit, and they stood there expectantly,
waiting for Max and Walt.

Walt stood and pulled off his tee shirt, then popped the rest of his Levi's
buttons and let the jeans slide to the porch to reveal a tight, muscular
build as Max did the same, stepping out of his cut-offs and sandals.  The
two middle-aged men were in stark contrast: Max covered in a thick pelt of
steel gray fur, Walt dark and smooth except for the wide patch of tight
curls at the base of his cock.

"You ready, Mr. P?" Max said to Walt.

"Right with ya, Mr. B," Walt answered.  They headed for the porch steps.

"Guess you got your answer," Joe said to Tim.  "If that's not ten inches,
or close, I've never seen ten inches."

"You boys laying bets on my dick?" Max tossed over his shoulder.  "Or are
you checking Walt for size?"

"No bets, Uncle Max," Joe laughed.  "Tim had a dream a couple of weeks ago,
is all.  He got up in my face for waking him out of it.  Looks like he can
finish it up in real life, though."  He and Tim followed the two men off
the porch and a minute later several loud splashes were heard as the four
belly-flopped into the water.

Jake emerged from the house with a beer and plopped down next to Chad In
the swing, one heel on the seat, an arm along the back behind Chad's
shoulders.  He had the half-focused look of a man just waking from a nap or
about to fall asleep – totally at ease with himself and the world.  He
reached down and squeezed Chad's shoulder.  "You good?" he asked quietly.

"Totally," Chad answered.  "And wait till you see Uncle Max and Walt.
Hoo-eee!"

"That good, huh?"

"Awesome!"

Cam and Doug appeared and took chairs.  "Awesome what?" Cam asked casually.

"Awesome dudes," Chad responded.  "Built and hung.  Makes me hungry just
thinking about them."

"You really are insatiable, aren't you?" Jake laughed.

"Just wait.  You won't wonder."

Tim and Joe returned from the river just then, followed shortly by Max and
Walt.  As the two older guys came into view, Jake let out a low whistle.
"Fuuuck," he said.  "You weren't shittin' me."

-##-

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