Date: Fri, 23 Jan 2004 09:36:36 -0800 (PST)
From: Niftyguy <niftyguy_30307@yahoo.com>
Subject: Southern Nights, Chapter Three

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

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Coffee from a disposable cup, an uncertain seat on the subway, all
the news that's fit to print, a fog of car exhaust, the cacophony of taxi
horns and squealing tires, adrenalin pumping, fueled by your growing
anticipation of the day.  That is a New York morning.  But in Dumont,
Georgia, sitting on the front porch of my uncle's house, the coffee is in
ancient Spode china, the seat is a bentwood rocker that has held the weight
of generations, the news consists of birth announcements and weather
reports, the fog is a haze burning off a distant pasture, the only sounds
come from a church bell that delivers a final warning to any soul who dares
to remain in bed, and the day promises little more than the gentle ebb and
flow of small-town life.

	Relaxing on the front porch, waving to my neighbor Toby as he drove
off to whatever job occupied his days, drinking a third cup of coffee, I
half decided that it was time to adopt the life of country gentleman.  Who
needs Bleecker Street, when you can sit, and think, and feel every fiber of
your body?  Who needs the hurly-burly of the city when you can have the
back and forth of a rocking chair?  At that moment, there was nothing that
I wanted that I didn't already have.  There haven't been very many times in
my life when I could make that statement.  Surely that had to count for
something.

	I suppose that it was Fate's way of getting back at me to send that
midnight blue Cadillac my way at the very moment when I had finally reached
a state of zen detachment that simply is not possible in New York City.
When I saw the blue behemoth coming down the street, I assumed that it
would keep going; I wasn't expecting anyone until Randy showed up, and he
sure as hell wasn't going to be driving a land yacht like that.  Much to my
surprise, though, it turned into the driveway and stopped.  Out jumped the
driver, a young man of maybe twenty years or so, dressed in crisp khakis
and a starched white shirt, his rolled-up shirtsleeves the only affront to
decorum.  Very quickly he trotted around the car, opened the door, and
helped his passenger out.  Slowly, deliberately, the two walked up to the
porch, the young man offering an arm to assist the older . . . I suppose
gentleman is the right word.  Tall, imposing, white-maned, impeccably
dressed in a linen suit with a bow tie, the look of proper dignity draped
around him like a cloak.

	I stood up.  "Good morning.  Can I help you?"

	The older gentleman smiled broadly and reached out with his hand as
he finally reached the top step.  "Good morning to you, young fellow.
Forrest T. Hamilton.  How do you do?"

	Reaching out to grasp his hand, I detected a faint, spicy scent,
reminiscent of cloves and vanilla.  "Pleased to meet you.  I'm Ed Mayhew's
nephew, Jeff MacNeil."

	"Oh, I know who you are.  On more than one occasion Ed talked of
his favorite nephew, the one who made good up North."

	I laughed ruefully.  "Well, in the interest of full disclosure, I
was his only nephew."

	The older man pursed his lips.  "Maybe his only nephew by blood, de
jure so to speak.  He had others, shall we say, de facto, over the years."

	Doing my best to remain unobtrusive, I watched as Forrest
Hamilton's young companion rolled his eyes at this last remark.  Even
across the years, there was a clear family resemblance between my two
visitors; if I had to guess, I would have wagered, correctly, that the two
were grandfather and grandson.  The younger man was strikingly handsome.
Thick, wavy chestnut hair, pale blue eyes that hinted at an untapped
passionate nature, and full, red lips, were all elements of a picture of
ripe male beauty.  Standing there, watching him, I knew that, at that very
moment, he was what I wanted.

	"Mr. MacNeil, I do not wish to bother you on such a fine morning,
but I wanted to very briefly describe a business proposal that I am
prepared to make.  It is my impression that you are very shortly going to
come into possession of all, or almost all, of your uncle's estate,
including the sum total of his real property.  I want you to know that I am
prepared to offer you top dollar, a sum that no one else in this town could
or would exceed, for all of your holdings here.  I am willing to take
everything, contents and all.  Now I'm not going to go into specifics right
at this time; it just wouldn't be appropriate so soon after the funeral.
But I want you to think about what I'm proposing, and rest assured that you
will be able to get back to your life in New York City at your earliest
possible convenience."

	"That is very kind of you, Mr. Hamilton.  I certainly appreciate
your concern.  But I'm sure you would understand that I haven't given much
thought yet to the disposition of my uncle's estate."

	"Indeed not, indeed not.  All in good time.  All in good time.  I
simply wished you to know that, despite any concerns you may have about
your ability to liquidate your holdings here, there is one person in this
town with the means and the inclination to assist you in any way that is
necessary.  And that person would be me."

	Despite Forrest Hamilton's honeyed words, something did not feel
quite right.  His eyes did not quite match his sentiments.  There was a
hard, even calculating, edge about him, and I could also detect a hint of
an intense urgency.  For some reason, this man wanted to buy my uncle's
property, very badly.  And that probably meant that it was too soon to
sell.  Life in New York had taught me nothing if not to be suspicious of
people trying to buy and sell things.

	At that very moment, I could hear the unmistakable sputtering sound
of Randy's pickup approaching, even though it was not yet visible.
Glancing down at my watch, I saw that it was half past nine.  He was early.
Looking back at the pair standing in front of me, it was obvious that
Forrest Hamilton's young companion also recognized the rat-tat-tat of the
truck's engine; he craned his neck to try to catch a glimpse, and I
detected just a hint of a smile as the battered vehicle came into view and
pulled up.

	"Well, gentlemen, I see that I have another visitor.  I'm afraid
that I'm going to have to excuse myself."  I reached out my hand to the
young man.  "I don't believe I caught your name."

	"I'm Mr. Hamilton's grandson, Beau Hamilton.  Pleased to meet you,
sir."  His grip was slightly inexperienced, but by no means weak.

	"It seems I've lost my manners," the courtly older man said.  "I do
apologize, Mr. MacNeil, for not making proper introductions.  Now I suppose
that we should leave you to whatever business you have to transact with the
Brinker boy."  Judging from his tone, it was clear that he didn't entirely
approve of whatever that business could be.  "Come along, Beau."

	With that, the two of them retreated to the Cadillac.  As they
drove off, Randy got out of his truck and watched the enormous car
disappear around the corner before walking up to the porch.

	"Hey Mr. Jeff, good morning to you.  Looks like you're havin' a
busy one already."

	"It would seem so.  Are you ready to head out to the shed?"

	"Yes, sir.  If you want, you can just ride in my truck.  I don't
have anything else lined up to do today, so I can drop you back here after
we're done."

	In all honesty, I was somewhat skeptical about taking a chance on
the rattling bucket of bolts that Randy used to haul his equipment, but at
the same time the idea of riding with this very attractive young man, who
was once again shirtless underneath his overalls, was more than a little
enticing.  It didn't take much convincing to get me into the truck, and we
were soon sputtering down the backcountry roads to my uncle's property.  If
it had been my truck, I probably would have invested in some new shock
absorbers, but at the time I was glad that Randy hadn't, since the bouncing
ride kept knocking me left and right, giving me an excuse to bump my left
arm up against his right.

	"So, do you know Mr. Hamilton through your uncle?" Randy yelled
over the roar of the engine.

	"Actually, this morning was the first time I've met him."  I
breathed deeply, savoring the smell of fresh cut grass and clean sweat on
him.  He had clearly already been working this morning.

	"I suppose he was just payin' his respects, after your uncle's
funeral and all."

	"More or less.  He looks like he must be a big man in town."

	Randy nodded.  "Ain't that the truth.  He owns half the town, and
he tries to run the half he don't own.  Not too many folks around here
who'll stand up to him."

	We rode in silence for a moment before my curiosity got the best of
me.  "His grandson looked to be about your age.  Do you know him?"

	Randy tried to maintain a poker face, but a hint of a grin peeked
out from around the edges.  "Yeah, I guess you could say I know Beau.  We
graduated from high school in the same class, two years ago, but we don't
see too much of him `round Dumont no more, on account of he's up in college
now."

	"So he's just back for the summer?"

	"Far as I know."

	Randy turned up a dirt road and came to a stop after about a
hundred yards, right in front of a low, weather-beaten building.
Distinguished chiefly by its peeling white paint and dirt-caked windows,
probably the best thing that you could say about the structure was that it
looked to be reasonable protection from the elements.  Getting out of the
truck, I immediately spied a padlock on the door.

	"Shit.  I forgot to bring a key.  I don't even know where Uncle Ed
would have kept it."

	Randy fished in the pocket of his overalls.  "Your uncle gave me a
key when he told me I could use the place."  He quickly unlocked the door
and we stepped inside.

	The shed consisted of two rooms, a large one that was mostly empty
and a smaller one that was piled high with a variety of junk, everything
from broken down furniture to abandoned pots and pans to a forlorn
dressmaker's dummy.  Stacked in the corner were three big steamer trunks.

	"Your uncle told me that he used this place to store stuff he
didn't have no need for."

	I gestured at the dummy.  "You mean he'd given up his career as a
seamstress?"

	Randy laughed.  "I don't know nothin' about that, Mr. Jeff."

	The air was hot and musty, and I could feel myself breaking a sweat
as I tried to fight off the sneezes that all of the dust was threatening to
produce.

	"Well, as far as I'm concerned, there shouldn't be any problem with
you using this place to store your equipment.  I suppose you're used to the
heat in here."

	"It's pretty bad, but I'll let you in on a little secret.  When I'm
real hot and over this way, I'll come on by and jump in the swimmin' hole
your uncle's got back through the trees.  He told me I could use it any
time.  I could show it to you if you'd like."

	Who was I to argue?

	Randy led me along an apparently little used path through a dense
clump of pine trees.  Maybe one hundred yards back from the shed, we
suddenly emerged onto a rocky ledge that overlooked the most perfect
swimming hole I'd ever seen.  A small creek cascaded off the ledge, forming
a ten-foot high waterfall and feeding a circular pool, maybe thirty feet in
diameter, that had been carved in the ancient granite.  I let out a low
whistle.

	"Wow.  This may be one piece of property that I might want to hold
onto."

	Randy winked at me.  "You feel like a swim?"

	"That sounds great, but I don't have a suit with me."

	"I never bother much with suits back here," Randy said, grinning
toothily as he kicked off his boots and unfastened the straps holding up
his overalls.  They immediately fell to the ground.  I watched agog as he
stepped out of the pile of faded blue denim, skinned off his white cotton
briefs, let out a whoop, and jumped off the ledge, producing a loud splash
a split second later.

	"You comin' in, Yankee man?" he called from below.

	Unable to think of a reason why I shouldn't, I quickly shed my
clothes, took a deep breath, and jumped into the unknown.  Passing through
the boundary between the dusty heat of the day and the cool depths of the
water sent an intense shock through my body, and for an instant I felt like
the wind had been knocked out of me.  As sweat and dirt dissolved in the
crystal clear depths, however, the sensual touch of the water began to
register on every square inch of my body.  I barely hesitated before
surrendering myself to the freedom of floating completely naked, the liquid
medium caressing my feet, my legs, my cock, my arms.

	Of course, I wasn't alone in the water.  Within seconds of plunging
in, I sensed Randy approaching through the water, and his body bumped up
against mine as he swam past.  He wasted very little time before homing
back in on me, grabbing me and sliding his body across mine, all the while
laughing as he indulged in an impromptu wrestling match.

	"Hey old man, you gonna let a Southern boy get the best of you?" he
taunted breathlessly.

	Now that a challenge had been issued, I had no choice but to defend
my honor.  Spinning around, arms flying, we battled for control in a
weightless, watery ballet that had us grabbing wrists, locking arms around
chests, twisting legs together, using our whole bodies in an attempt to
gain leverage in an unfamiliar environment.  On more than one occasion my
cock bounced against his.  At first I tried to hide my growing erection
but, as I felt his own hardening cock slide over my skin, I began to get
bolder, planning each maneuver in such a way as to increase the likelihood
of contact between my stiff prick and his.  Finally, suddenly, just as I
was plunging in to grab him, all of his resistance evaporated, and we found
ourselves locked together in a watery embrace.

	"Come on, let me show you something," he whispered in my ear.

	Randy stroked over to the waterfall and disappeared behind the
cascading curtain.  Eagerly anticipating what I hoped was about to happen,
I followed and emerged into a hidden grotto that Nature had somehow carved
into the rock face.  A muted daylight penetrated the tumbling water that
hid this gem from the outside world, and the air was cool and damp, causing
goosebumps to temporarily break out across my skin.

	Randy was standing up against a weeping rock wall, next to a
rough-hewn wooden bench that someone had maneuvered into the cave.  In that
moment, he was so unbelievably sexy, to me at least, that the bottom just
dropped out of my stomach.  Not a word needed to be said.  Slowly,
deliberately, I walked over to him, reached out, and touched just the
swollen tip of his hard penis, barely grazing it with my fingertips, just
enough to cause it to bob left and right.  Reaching up, I roamed across his
smooth, tanned chest, tracing the defined boundaries of each muscle,
strumming each hard nipple, grasping his thick biceps, raking through the
golden fur that covered his strong forearms, touching the pale skin of his
hips and following the tan line that divided his belly into light and dark,
migrating down to push his thighs apart.

	My breath was coming in short, sharp gasps as I squatted down.  My
own cock was as rigid as a flagpole, twitching involuntarily at every horny
thought that made its presence known.  I paused for a moment, just staring
at Randy's cock and balls, drinking in their primal sexiness, trying to
memorize the exact curve of the long, thick shaft, the dark red color of
the enormous mushroom head, the weight of the sac that held his pendant
balls.  And then I moved in closer, parting my lips, opening my mouth,
extending my tongue, tasting just the tip, sliding him into my mouth and
first just letting my hot breath caress his hard cock, trying to ratchet up
his excitement a little before I closed my lips down on the quivering
organ.

	"Oooh, oooh, yeah," Randy groaned as I began to suck in earnest.
Slowly, agonizingly, my lips traveled down his entire length, not stopping
until my nose was buried deep in his blond pubic hair.  He just stood there
motionless, hands behind his head, leaning against the wall as I pulled
back until only his swollen knob was still inside me.  I was feeling a
little weak-kneed, so I steadied myself by grabbing hold of one of his
muscular thighs.  I savored the feel of the golden, downy fur that covered
his tan legs, and with my free hand I reached down to jack my own cock.  As
I slid my foreskin back and forth, I got back to work on Randy, licking,
sucking, tasting, nipping every square inch of his flesh.

	After months without sex, this experience was a blur, a whirlwind
of musty scents, salty tastes, the feel of hot, sweaty skin, tiny electric
shocks as muscles clenched and pulsed.  I can't speak for Randy, but I was
operating on a purely animal level, almost growling as I sucked on his fat
cock with a single-minded intensity that doesn't often exist in this
multi-tasking world.

The world collapsed inward until it was occupied only by Randy's thick
erection, buried deep in my mouth, and his balls, hanging down and full of
cum, that I'm pulling on and licking and tasting, and sucking into my
mouth, first one, and then the other, and then both, and they are so
fucking hot, and then I'm standing up, pressing my body against his, and I
can feel the hair on my chest stroke across his smooth skin, and my cock is
mashed against his, and they're so fucking slippery, and skin is sliding
across skin, and then I reach down and pull my foreskin over his cockhead,
and my knob is pressing against his, my slit is touching his, and his
calloused fingers are pulling on my shaft while I stroke his, and all I
know is I want to shoot my cum up into his cock, so it can mix in his balls
with his own sperm, and then he can shoot it back out, just fucking spray
it back out all over our bodies, and then, oh fuck, oh fuck, "I'm gonna
fucking cum," I whispered.

Looking down, I watched my cock pulse as I kept my foreskin stretched to
cover as much of Randy's knob as I could.  The slippery, moist heat inside
my fleshy hood was intense, and currents of semen oozed out around the
edge.  Just at that very instant, Randy let out a loud whoop, and I could
feel the hot spray of his cum fill my foreskin to overflowing.  Letting go,
thick gobs of hot sperm trickled down our still-twitching cocks, which
continued to bounce against each other.

"Jesus H. Christ," Randy exclaimed.  "You know I'm likin' that!"

I put my arms around him and gave him a kiss.  "I didn't know people'd be
so neighborly down here.  I might just have to stay permanently."

"Shit, man, I think you'd fit right in.  I can sure as hell think of a lot
of ways I could help you settle in and get comfortable.  And maybe I could
even find a different way to work off the rent for the shed."  Randy winked
at me before plunging back into the water, leaving me to ponder what he had
just said.  His words raised some interesting possibilities.