Date: Fri, 13 Feb 2009 00:41:50 -0800 (PST)
From: Greg <fotogme11@yahoo.com>
Subject: Us Guys ch 23

Us Guys

By:  Photo Guy (fotogme11@yahoo.com)
Proofreader and Story Consultant:  Steve

The author copyrights this story, with permission for posting on the Nifty
Archive.  It may not be copied to another website without prior permission
from the author.

This is a fictional story ... any similarities to actual people, places,
events or other entities is purely coincidental.  The story involves gay
sex between family members and their friends, and is written solely for the
reading enjoyment of people who aren't offended by material of this type!
If you are underage, or this type of material is illegal where you live,
please leave now.

***

Notice to my readers: Even though I've told all of you this many times
before, I appreciate you more than you may realize.  I love telling the
story of my guys, but if nobody was reading it, what would be the purpose?
Every time I receive an email from one of you, it is a big encouragement to
me.

I am in the process of scanning thousands of nature transparencies I've
taken over a dozen years, or so ... making them digital and usable in
today's world.  Unfortunately, it is a very time-consuming process ... and
one that I have to do in my spare time.  I've been putting it off, but must
do it over the next several months.  Anyway, I mention this because it
MIGHT cause chapters of "Us Guys" to be posted more infrequently.  I'm very
hopeful I can keep to my every Friday postings, but I wanted to let all of
you know, in advance, in case I need to change the schedule.  Thanks for
understanding.

***

I want to thank all of you who emailed me after chapter twenty-two.  It
never ceases to amaze me, the way some of you enjoy following the story.

I hope you have fun with chapter twenty-three!

***



Chapter Twenty-three

(Chris narrates.)

The woman's voice startled all of us.  We had been so wrapped up in
photographing each other, that none of us had noticed the outdoorsy-looking
mother and her young son on an old patchwork quilt at the water's edge.
Apparently, they had been finishing a late lunch, while watching the three
of us with amusement ... until Tyler almost stepped on them, that is.

"Sorry, ma'am," Tyler said to the mother before grinning at the boy.  He
was a really cute little boy, with one of those bowl haircuts youngsters
sometimes wear.

"What brings you boys out here on a school day?" the mother asked
pleasantly.

"We're on a field trip," Brad replied quickly.

"Yeah ... we're part of the Photography Club from Boulder High School," I
added.  On a beautiful, Friday afternoon in late September, a 'field trip'
sounded like the kind of lame explanation three teenaged boys would come up
with to explain why they weren't in school.  "The rest of the club is
around here somewhere."

The woman smiled while nodding toward the mountain ridge.  "Well ... this
is sure a beautiful place; I'd imagine you could take some nice photographs
here."

"Yeah," Brad agreed.  "We were just driving by on the highway ... on our
way to the Maroon Bells."

The mother looked like she wasn't familiar with that destination.

"You know ... near Aspen," Tyler added, and she smiled.  "Do you live near
here?"

"A few miles south," she replied.  "My son and I try to get out here as
often as we can."

Smiling, I looked at the boy.  He was wearing a pair of smallish, faded red
shorts and multi-colored flip-flops.  And the exposed skin on the rest of
his young body was an even, golden tan.  It looked like he'd spent a lot of
time outdoors this past summer.

"What's your name?" Tyler asked.

The yellow-haired child blushed and looked towards the ground.

"Shy?" I laughed, and the boy only blushed more.

"His name is Lars," the mother said, glancing fondly at her son.  "He's not
used to being around men."

Wow ... she had called us men!  That was the one word in the English
language an adult could use to describe guys my age, guaranteed to get
... and keep ... our attention.  Three teenage chests expanded to their
fullest.  I'd been planning to head back to the parking lot right away
... I think all of us had ... but we decided to stay for a few minutes, and
take their photo instead.  Lars wasn't shy around his mom, smiling broadly
for the pics.  And moments later, the three of us shared our photographs
with Lars and his mother.  Instantly, we made a couple of new friends.

"How old are you?" Brad asked the cherubic tyke.

"I'm four," Lars proudly replied, smiling broadly while holding up three
fingers.

"He just had his birthday," his mom said to us, and then, holding up four
fingers, she turned to her son.  "This is how you show four."

Lars glanced from his mom's hand to his own, before raising his pinkie.
"Four," he repeated.  Then moments later, he turned to his mother and
stated, "Mom, I wanna play in the water."

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Uh-huh," the little boy answered.

"It's going to be RE-ALLY cold!" she added.

Lars shook his head as if to say only wimps cared about something like that
... and he SURE wasn't a wimp!  In the blink of an eye, he slipped out of
his shorts, and stood before us in all his naked perfection.  His body was
tanned all over; his butt cheeks, thighs and even his little pee-pee were
the same golden color as his chest.  Fuck ... with a perfect tan like that,
he must go naked all the time at home.

"My little exhibitionist," the mom laughed, but she didn't tell Lars to put
his shorts back on.  And Lars obviously didn't look at being naked in front
of other people as anything unusual, not in the slightest.  I thought that
was an awesome way for the kid to be growing up.

"Can I take your picture, Lars?" Brad asked, as the boy began walking along
the water's edge.  His little kid prick was sticking straight out in front,
leading the way.

"Sure," the boy's sweet voice answered, and Brad snapped a couple of shots
of the young guy standing beside the water.  Unselfconsciously, Lars
fingered the head of his sheathed cocklet, before bending down and dipping
his fingers in the frigid lake.  "Brrrrr," he laughed.  Maybe he WAS having
second thoughts about getting in the water, after all.

The three of us took several shots of Lars hopping from rock to rock, along
the edge of the lake, or pausing to stick his big toe into the
crystal-clear water.  His grin, every time he did that, was priceless!

"Chris!  Brad!  Tyler!"

It was my Dad's voice calling us, and I glanced at my watch.  Shit ... we
were already over fifteen minutes late!

"We're coming!" Tyler yelled, before turning to Lars.  "We gotta go, big
guy."

"Do you hafta?" Lars asked in a dejected, little-boy voice.

"I wish we didn't," Tyler answered ... and he was speaking for all of us.
He took a final shot.  "But yeah, we do."

Tyler was still squatting, and Lars ran to him, throwing his slim, child's
arms around my boyfriend's neck.  Quickly, I grabbed a few shots of Tyler
hugging him back.  It's hard to say whether Tyler or Lars had the bigger
smile on his face!  Anyway, Brad was standing next to Tyler.  And Lars
hugged my fifteen-year old friend's blue jeans-clad hips for a moment,
laying his face against Brad's naked stomach.  Smiling like a big brother,
Brad bent over and picked up the youngster.  They hugged for a second or
two, and then, as Brad held Lars against his hip, the grinning boy reached
for me.

I had to get a few shots of that happy duo before dropping my camera, so it
dangled from around my neck.  Then, as I stretched out my arms to Lars, he
hopped from Brad to me.  The little kid's metabolism must have been working
overtime that afternoon.  His impish body was SO hot against my chest, as
Lars ran his small fingers over the very noticeable biceps in my right arm
... and his tiny prick was like a bony finger, as it poked against my
stomach!  Immediately, MY cock started to throb and swell, with that
wonderful, spontaneous reaction every teenage male enjoys (most of the
time, that is) at least a hundred times a day.

I shifted my hands to Lars' small, baby-soft buns, squeezing each lovingly,
while hugging his tiny bone tightly against my body.  Lars squirmed in my
arms, grinding his penis against my firm abs.  Then, the golden-tanned,
four-year old planted a quick kiss on my lips before releasing his hold on
my neck.  I poked my index finger at his innie, causing Lars to giggle and
suck-in his tummy.  And very, VERY reluctantly, I set him on the quilt next
to his mom.  Honestly, I never wanted to let the boy go!

"I hope you guys have a fun trip," Lars' mom commented, with a friendly
smile.

"Thanks!" Brad answered.  "I'm sure glad we met you, Lars."

"Me, too!" he replied, smiling broadly.

"Um ... I really hate to ask," the mother added.  "But I don't have any
photos of Lars since he was a baby.  If you guys think about it ... and
have the time when you get home ... I'd sure appreciate a couple prints of
him."  She smiled affectionately at her son who had already wandered back
to the lake's edge.

All three of us were carrying small spiral notebooks ... a 'must have' from
the list Ben gave each of us at our last club meeting ... and Tyler offered
his and the worn stub of a pencil to the woman.  She neatly wrote in it:

       				Heidi Andersen
 					c/o Thin Aire Motel
					1927 South Hwy. 24 - Unit C
					Leadville, CO 80461

Then she handed the pad back to Tyler with another smile.  "I'm really glad
you almost stepped on us," she laughed.

"Any time, Mrs. Andersen," Tyler answered, belatedly introducing Brad, me
and himself to the woman.

"My mom is Mrs. Andersen," Heidi laughed, while shaking her head to
indicate it definitely wasn't her.

Tyler laughed too.  "Well ... enjoy the afternoon out here."

"Thanks; I know we will," Ms Andersen replied.

Then, as an afterthought, I added, "If you two are ever in Boulder, drop by
and say hello.  Tyler and I live on the J bar A ranch north of town."

Lars' mom laughed, but then said they just might do that ... IF they ever
made it that far east.  As she was talking, I wrote down our phone number
and gave it to her.  And Lars waved goodbye to us as we reluctantly left.

We sauntered away.  And as soon as we were out of earshot, Brad commented,
"Wow, Chris ... that little kid was really grinding his cock against you."
Brad shook his head, like maybe he wished Lars had done something like that
to him, too.

"I know," I laughed.  "He sure made ME hard!"

"I noticed," Brad revealed with a smirk.  "I guess you ought to wear baggy
jeans like me.  They hide a lot."

Tyler and I agreed with Brad, and the three of us were laughing when Dad
called out in a loud voice, "Christopher Allen Matthews!"

Uh-oh ... I hadn't heard Dad use my full name, or that tone of voice for
quite a while.  Brad, Tyler and I sprinted down the remainder of the path
toward the parking lot, where six VERY impatient people were standing
beside the van.

"What took you guys so long?" Dad asked, glancing at his watch.  He kept
his feelings under control, but I could tell he was angry.  "We still have
a long drive ahead of us.  And it'd be nice if we made it to the campsite
before dark!"

"We're really sorry, everybody," I answered for Tyler, Brad and myself.
"But we met a woman and her boy when we were on our way back here."

"And we just HAD to get their pictures," Tyler added as we climbed into the
van.  Fortunately, everyone seemed to accept our apology, except maybe Dad.

"Tim, you know how easy it is to lose track of time when you start taking
photographs in a beautiful location," Ben commented, while Mrs. Jackson
started the van.  "I know I didn't get half the shots I wanted while we
were here.  And who knows but that the photos the boys took in the last few
minutes won't be the best from anyone on the whole trip?"

Wow ... Ben was expecting a LOT from us!

For a moment or two, Dad seemed to reconsider what he'd just said ... and
left unsaid ... a moment earlier.  And as we turned onto Highway 91,
towards Leadville, he admitted, "You're right, Ben."  Then he faced the
back seat.  "Sorry I snapped at you boys."

"Brad," my father added, "Chris can tell you; sometimes, I'm a slave to the
clock."  He paused briefly.  "Lots of times, that's a strength ... but I
suppose it can be one of my worst faults, too."

Brad glanced at me and smiled in his easy-going way.  That sure wasn't a
character flaw ... if indeed it was one ... that HE had to worry about!

"But ..." Dad continued, " ... there ARE nine of us on this trip.  So we
need to be as considerate of our fellow club members' time, as we are of
our own.  Fortunately, all of us have the same goal in mind, to come home
with some great photographs.  After we set up camp, there won't be any rush
to get all the photos you want."

If the rest of the trip turned out to be a bust ... and I sure didn't
expect it would ... just meeting Lars had already made the trip worthwhile.
Too bad I'd probably never see him again.

"Maybe we can stop here again on the way home," I suggested.

"That's not a bad idea, Chris," Ben replied.  "It was sure an incredible
location.  But why don't we wait until Monday, and see how we feel about it
then?"

No one objected to that suggestion.

As we slowly climbed the mountain in the fully loaded van, all of us were
passing around our cameras and bragging about the pics we had taken at our
last stop.  Tim suggested it might be easier for everyone to view them on
his laptop, everybody agreed, and he collected our memory cards.  Dad said
he'd assemble a slide presentation for later in the trip ... maybe even
tonight if we got camp set up early enough.  But we'd definitely hold it
one night around the campfire.

While there were a few, very short downhill stretches, the highway
continued to climb the side of a mountain until we reached Freemont Pass.
A small sign indicated the elevation was 11,318 feet.  And from there, the
road slowly descended into the two-mile high community of Leadville, where
a sign proudly proclaimed it as the highest incorporated city in the United
States.  We stopped and turned onto U.S. Highway 24.

The outskirts of town were like thousands of other communities in rural
America.  Most of the homes and small businesses were old and
sleepy-looking, but then we came across a larger gas station on the left,
next to a bustling grocery store.  Both had probably been built five or ten
years earlier.  From that point to Main Street, the town looked a little
more prosperous.  When we reached the old downtown area however, it was
like we'd stepped back into the Wild West.  All the facades of the old
downtown buildings had been restored.  Of course, now most of them were
small shops and art galleries rather than saloons and brothels.  And I
didn't see any horses tied up to hitching rails, or gunslingers preparing
for a shoot-out ... but you get the idea.

"I wish we had time to stop and look around," Ann commented, glancing back
and forth to either side of the road.  The downtown speed limit was only
fifteen miles per hour.  On a Friday afternoon, the streets weren't very
busy, but that would probably change over the weekend ... especially since
the aspens were beginning to turn.

"Maybe some other time," Ben answered, "now that you know what's here."

Nodding, she agreed.  "Hopefully, I can drag my husband up here some
weekend."

Although we didn't stop, except at the many red lights where the highway
zigzagged through town, everybody did lots of gawking.  It wasn't hard to
imagine what the town had been like during the mining boom years of the
late eighteen hundreds, when silver had been king in these parts.

As we were leaving the downtown behind us, and the speed limit increased to
thirty-five, I noticed the Thin Aire Motel on the right side of the van.
"That must be where Lars and his mom live," I stated, pointing out the
motor court to Tyler and Brad.  It was a small cluster of ten or twelve
tiny cottages with an old-fashioned neon sign advertising 'Vacancy' and an
aging, hand-lettered one that read 'Room for Rent-Kitchenette'.  Maybe not
the best place for a little boy to be brought up, but then again, he had a
cool mom ... and a swimming pool a few miles away that most kids would die
for!

Highway 24 had been built alongside the rushing waters of the Arkansas
River.  And after several miles of following the fledgling river out of the
mountains, we found ourselves driving through a broad valley.  Although the
mountains were never far away in this part of Colorado, the scenery on
either side of the roadway was very ordinary.  Okay, okay, I know ... it
sure didn't take long for me to begin calling a landscape with mountains
ten or twenty miles away on either side, ordinary.

Anyway, with not much to look at outside, Kenji broke out his deck of cards
again.  And while I slipped out of my flip-flops and played footsie with
the arch and long toes on Tyler's right foot, Kenji played 21 with Marc.
With mild interest, I watched Jenne ... who had turned around in her seat
... and Brad begin a second game.  What I would REALLY have liked to have
been doing right about then was make out with Tyler.  But neither my
boyfriend nor I was ready to come out to our fellow club members yet.  So I
contented myself with discreetly playing footsie, and several games of 21,
as the miles rolled by.

Sometime later, we came upon a large body of water called Twin Lakes.
There was a long dam along the near, east end, so it was obviously a
man-made reservoir.  Apparently, the water was used for generating
electricity as well as drinking and irrigation, because Ann piloted the van
into the visitors center parking lot for a power company.  We got out and
stretched our legs for a few minutes, and then captured several shots of
the lakes with the aspen-covered mountains behind them.  The mountainsides
were ablaze with patches of yellow!

It must have been between three and four o'clock, when we began the ascent
to Independence Pass.  By now, driving on the mountain roads of Colorado
was becoming old hat.  I'd seen several signs at lower elevations
proclaiming that roadways would be closed because of snow after mid-October
or early November.  But this was the first road I could remember that had
so many switchbacks as we climbed ever higher.  It was very slow going!
And after we crossed the timberline ... where the last twisted and gnarled
snags of trees clung to life along the border with the harsh tundra ... the
pavement became narrower and very rough.  After a final, steep, quarter
mile we finally reached the pass, with an elevation of over twelve thousand
feet.  The landscape had been barren since we left the shelter of the
trees, and Ann turned the van into a large parking lot at the summit.  Half
a dozen cars and a couple of motorcycles were already parked there.  The
surface of two or three tarns, small alpine lakes that were just across the
road, shimmered with the combination of sun and breeze.

"You can see forever from up here!" Marc exclaimed.  He'd been sitting in
front of me, and seconds after we stopped, he opened the side door.  A
blast of freezing air from a stiff wind rushed into the van.  "Shit!" my
friend cried, quickly pulling the door closed.

Ben laughed.  "If you're going to get out and take some shots from the
peak," he glanced to a boardwalk that led to the highest point on the
mountain, "you guys will want to put on coats, at the very least."

I guess he said it that way because most of us were wearing shorts and
t-shirts.  While I remembered how chilly it got up in the mountains early
and late in the day, we had been backpacking in the first part of July and
this was late September.  It seemed like winter stuck around into summer
and returned before the first day of fall in the higher elevations.  The
sun was shining brightly from a western angle in a partly cloudy sky, but
it didn't seem to be producing much heat.  Or if it was, the stiff wind had
it seriously overpowered.

Anyway, after we found our coats, Ann, the rest of the club members and I
hiked the five hundred feet, more or less, to the overlook point.  Dad and
Ben decided to stay behind and guard the van.  That's what they said,
anyway.  The air was sure thin up here; hiking wasn't all that easy, but
you could see forever from the overlook!  Camera shutters were clicking
steadily as we quickly took in the grandeur of the scene, before heading
back down to our vehicle.

Descending from the pass on the western side of the mountain was much like
it had been on the east until we reached the altitude where the aspens
grew.  Wow ... all the yellow leaves were amazing!  On the rest of the
drive to Aspen, I definitely saw why the community had been given its name.
I had thought the fall color was nice before, but this was spectacular.

We also saw why Ann had been reluctant to take this road in our big van.
Although she said after this trip, she wouldn't let her husband drive into
Aspen by another route ... if they ever made the trip in the fall of the
year.  Very curvy and slow, Highway 82 tenuously clung to the side of the
mountain; the drop-offs on our left were severe.  And of course, the road
didn't have any guardrails to speak of.  In places, while the road seemed
to be striped for two lanes, it was only wide enough for one vehicle to
pass at a time ... and the sight distances were very short.  If Ann had
driven slowly on the earlier parts of our trip, she literally crept the ten
or fifteen miles from Independence Pass, as we descended the vertical mile,
or so, into Aspen.  We picked up quite a following, behind us!

While I could tell from his body language that Dad would have preferred to
be the driver rather than a passenger, he didn't comment on Ann's
white-knuckle driving.  Of course, none of us in the back seats cared
anything about that.  We were snapping photos out of the windows like
crazy.

It was a breathtaking drive in so many ways; I couldn't wait until I got my
license.  Next fall I was going to drive it myself!


***

I think I'm going to end chapter twenty-three right here.  I hope it didn't
seem too much like a travelogue, but the stretch of roadway they drove is
some of the most beautiful in Colorado ... in the opinion of someone who
doesn't live in the state.

If any of you ever decide to travel to Aspen, Colorado in the third or
fourth week of September, BE SURE to take the roads I've described in this
chapter ... unless you're just interested in getting to Aspen by the
fastest possible route.  While my description of Leadville may not be
completely accurate (I made it a composite of several places I've been) the
rest is.  The Tenmile Range of mountains viewed from Highway 91 is
spectacular if it has snowed, but less than scenic if it hasn't.  And the
drive into Aspen via Highway 82 from the east can be exciting for the
driver ... at least for someone like me who doesn't drive in the mountains
all that often.  But it is definitely the road to take, if you want
scenery!  Highway 82 from the west to Aspen is very ordinary.

I hope all of you enjoyed this chapter.  I got to relive several photo
trips to Colorado while I wrote it, so it gave me extra enjoyment to write.
Anyway, I'd sure like to hear from you if you enjoyed reading it!
(fotogme11@yahoo.com) And if you would like to join the Yahoo! Group for my
stories, you can do that here:
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ill_suck_you/join If you've never read the
earlier stories in this series, you might enjoy them as well.  They're also
in the Gay/Incest area of the Nifty Archive.

"I'll Suck You"  Final Post Date: June 25, 2007
"I've Got the Best Family"  Final Post Date: May 23, 2008

Have a great week, guys!  Greg