Date: Mon, 3 Sep 2007 07:21:10 -0500
From: J.J. <jjjanicki@gmail.com>
Subject: Understanding Sex-Part 6

The following contains a depiction of sex involving teenage boys.
Finally. If you'll just be patient. But if reading subject matter such as
this is illegal in your current place of residence, or if you find the
subject matter to be offensive or if you're underage, then please to not
continue.

And I should also warn you that the following story has ducks in it, but
no unnatural acts were committed. At least not that I'm aware of.


                     Understanding Sex-Part 6
                          The Naked Id
                              plus
                   The Ducks of Whispering Pines


3:38 P.M... I don't know if it would help to explain just how I got into
Putt'n'Putt, but I guess I might as well. (I'll be brief, OK?) There's
this kid who goes to my father's church back home. I really don't like
him very much (my folks keep saying how they wish I'd follow his example,
so that in itself should explain why we're not best friends), but
there've been times when we've been thrown together and during the summer
his dad would take us out to this minature golf course. It wasn't
Putt'n'Putt but it was similar in that your score pretty much depended on
skill, not luck. I mean there weren't any crocodile mouths to navigate,
no revolving windmill blades, none of that shit, it was all about being
able to putt. (Although in many cases you had to bank the shot off the
rail... and I SAID I was going to be brief, didn't I?)

Well OK then. One: The first few times Kenny KILLED me, it wasn't even
close. He could almost break par (every hole being a par 2, just like
Putt'n'Putt), I was doing good to break 60. Two: I do not LIKE losing to
him at ANYthing, and I especially did not like being killed. So three: I
went to the library and checked out a bunch of golf instruction books,
paying attention only to the tips on how to become a good putter. Four:
And it worked! I even broke PAR! And I beat him. And I was hooked. Five:
Unfortunately that course is now the parking lot of a McDonald's, but
when they were demolishing it they gave me a roll of carpet which is now
in my basement. And I bought one of those ball return gizmos. And I
practiced, dreaming one day of hustling rich country club types on the
putting greens, and then Six: last summer I discovered the Minneapolis #5
Putt'n'Putt.

But the first two times I was there, it was only for a few games because
I was paying like a regular customer. (Once in the JPPNA, you can play
all DAY for just a $3 greens fee.) Only at first I didn't know there WAS
such a thing as the JPPNA. And I didn't know the shots or anything like
that.

So about an hour after I'd played a few games that second day, I was over
at the mall near the course at Barnes & Noble trying to figure out which
Carlos Castaneda title might be the best to get started with. I'd just
recently heard of him.

And that's when Ray Kohle happened by and asked, "You into Castaneda?"

"Well, I was thinking about it" I said.

"Saw you at the course today. Looks like you've got a good stroke. You
from around here?"

So after I told him I was just up for the summer, he explained the JPPNA.
And it sure didn't take long to get me interested. Before that day was
over I'd put a small dent in the money I'd saved up for the summer. $10
membership fee. About $30 for a new putter. (He ran me out to a nearby
pro shop so I could find one I liked.) $5 for a pack of official PPPNA
balls. Yep, there're PROFESSIONAL Putt'n'Putters. And before the day was
over, I'd met Matthew. Which would should explain why I was almost too
excited to sleep that night, running everything through my mind. But
Matthew was only part of that euphoria, what I was MOST excited about was
Putt'n'Putt.

Ray Kohle? I thought he was one VERY cool dude. Beyond Putt'n'Putt I
think he gave me a brief synopsis of every book Castaneda ever wrote,
plus we discussed non-existence, reincarnation, parallel universes,
hauntings, other paranormal events, stupid religious beliefs, ACC
basketball as opposed to Big Ten basketball, drugs and other subjects.
This DID take awhile, but I do recall discussing all that.

It didn't take long for the subject of drugs to pop up though, in fact it
was first mentioned when he offered me a hit off a big roach he fired up
soon as we got into his car after leaving the bookstore. A Mustang GT, by
the way.

Trying to act cool, I asked, "Is that what I think it is?"

"Urk", then after exhaling slowly he added, "Well, I GUESS it is", then
he offered me a hit.

Well, it wasn't like I hadn't ever THOUGHT about it, but right then, no.
But when I said, "No, I don't think I'm ready for that yet" he just said
"Well, no problem" and didn't press the issue, which I thought was cool
enough.

So I guess at this point I should explain a few things, like for
starters, the reason I always give both his first and last names is
because of how it's pronounced, which is like Rayco. So that's what
everybody called him. He'd just turned 17. His father was a big stock
broker and had sort of kicked him out until he came to his senses.
Because he'd been suspended from school, for one thing. Guess why. But
what I mean by "sort of" is that he was still living on the family
property. In a small building that really was like a little apartment.
Just barely out of sight from their house. I'd just LOVE to get kicked
out like that. Although he DID have to pay his own way. Except for rent
and utilities. He didn't have to worry about that.

So again, in his case I don't see being kicked out as being all that
awful, even if he had to buy his own gas. (Fortunately his father had
already PAID for his Mustang. And didn't take it away.) He had to pay his
cable bill. And he had to eat, of course. And do his own laundry. Oh, the
horror, the HORROR!

Well, a dude's gotta pay the bills somehow, so he went out and FOUND a
job. As a custodian's helper at a junior high school. Raymond Kohle IV,
son of Raymond Kohle III was a JANITOR! (Although he preferred CUSTODIAN.
And it would be helpful if you remember that.) (Or at least it will be if
I ever get around to telling the best Putt'n'Putt story of all, but I
guess that remains to be seen. Because it doesn't have much to do with
sex. Unless you want to count Tallis and Matthew mooning Robert Etron.
But this other story does add more depth to Ray Kohle's character. And
Adam's and Matthew's and Martin's and several others for that matter. So
I might. Eventually.) And I might as well start another paragraph.
Because I really should be getting back to the story I started with.

Custodian, janitor, whatever, Ray Kohle really didn't like that job, so
he found another. Which paid less, but was more fun. As the Minneapolis
#5 maintenance man. All the kids really liked him though. Maybe because
he never talked down to them. And of course he was anti-authoritarian.
Very much so. And funny. So sometimes he couldn't so much as get in his
car before three or four JPPNAs would be in there with him with at least
that many more outside hollering about how it was THEIR turn. So just
imagine how I felt when it started looking like he REALLY liked talking
to me. ME! I mean he tried to be nice to everybody but after awhile you
could tell there were some kids he wished would go away, but not me. He
also seemed to like Matthew a lot. And Adam. And Tallis. Just to name a
few who've already been introduced. Didn't do him much good to try
looking up Adam's shorts, he always wore Spandex underneath. But Matthew
and Tallis didn't give a shit if Ray Kohle looked up their shorts or not.
Usually Tallis wore jeans due to the underwear issue, but every now and
then he'd wear GYM shorts and Ray Kohle's day would be made. And then
sometimes Matthew would "forget" to wear HIS undies. Oh my.

(!!!!) That was for superego's benefit. (!!!!) End of tragedy. Because
when I was back in my room at Aunt Esther's sitting in front of the
mirror trying to figure out what Ray Kohle might've seen that first time
I caught him looking up MY shorts, I was shocked, simply SHOCKED, but
then my id took over. At first my id thought it was kind of funny,
really, but then when I sat just so and you could see EVERYthing, my id
went "Damn! That's INTERESTING!" You can tell when my id gets interested
in something because it starts getting stiff. I DID have my undies on
that day, but after you've been out in the sun for awhile, they can get
kind of loose. And they sure had.

(I was GOING to continue with my self-analysis, but maybe there's been
enough tragedy already.)

So OK then. After discovering Ray Kohle's achilles heel, I didn't think
he was QUITE as cool, but it seemed like Matthew thought he WAS, and if
Matthew jumped off the Empire State Building I probably would too even if
I was only trying to catch him before he hit the pavement... so there you
go. And anyway, Matthew said while he probably WAS queer, he hadn't ever
tried to put the move on anybody that he knew about, he just liked to
look, that's all. So yeah, every now and then I'd make his day too. And
it was sort of fun. And he was still funny and an interesting person to
talk to, so I guess if I can say all that in spite of him looking up my
shorts, he must've been fairly cool at that.

But SOMETIMES we weren't real sure about this. Like for instance when we
got left in the duck pond. It's an interesting story, though.

It started when me and Matthew were "camping out" one night. We decided
to do this when Martin the night manager mentioned that they were going
to have a no-rail styme game after the course closed. Basically, the
object in stymie is to block other people from going into the hole. I
mean that's pretty much it, except in no-rail if you HIT a rail then you
have to go back to the tee mat. So it can take a long time to finish a
game. Usually we played for a nickel a stroke. And I know that doesn't
sound like much but it can add up in a HURRY. because it's possible to
take fifty or so on just one hole. One time I thought Ray Kohle was going
to hit triple figures. I mean Martin and Ray Kohle can NOT play stymie,
so there's just no telling how much money we might've raked in that night
if Martin hadn't got pissed off and broke his putter. And then he decided
"By God, what this course needs is some ducks! And we're gonna go get
some."

Which might need some explanation. Well, I got a real good explanation.
Right after the course closed, Martin and Gary McAteer; who was probably
#5's most notorious druggie; had gone off and picked up an entire case of
tall Buds. Which they then drank. Martin, McAteer and Ray Kohle. And then
they went off and got ANOTHER case, which they'd just gotten started on.


And so it was that we all got into Martin's SISTER'S new 1987 Ford Taurus
station wagon, drove about three miles to the Whispering Pines Perpetual
Care Memorial Garden and borrowed six ducks. Although at first I wasn't
going to have a thing to do with it, but Matthew decided he WAS going, so
that took care of that. I HAD to go. Because if I DIDN'T go and he got
killed when they had their wreck, I knew I'd never be able to forgive
myself. I know that's not too logical (like MY getting killed was going
to somehow make things better?), but screw logic. I had to go.

(Even if I no longer hold the beliefs I was brought up with, ghosts still
remain. Including the one about Mary Beth, the popular homecoming queen
who after a wild night of partying got run over by a train and went to
Hell. And it certainly seemed possible that we might get run over by
SOMETHING.)

But at least we made it there. Much to my relief, Martin didn't seem to
be having any problems keeping the car on the road. But of course I could
still worry about the return trip. And then there was the part about the
ducks. And all at once THAT seemed to be worrying McAteer as well, as he
started mentioning some pretty deep felt convictions about stealing any
property of a final resting place. Which he'd forgotten all about up
UNTIL then, but finally Martin said we were just BORROWING the ducks and
after a bit, we'd take 'em back.

But ANYway, soon as those "tame" ducks figured out we weren't there to
feed them, they stampeded into the pond, swam out to the middle and
started making an AWFUL racket, but SOMEHOW before the panic set in,
McAteer and Ray Kohle managed to catch five. And another flew into the
car by mistake. But those ducks were upset. I mean REALLY upset.

Well see, at first everybody but Martin was supposed to be grabbing
ducks. He'd stationed himself at the left rear door, ready to receive in
assembly line fashion any ducks we managed to get our hands on. Then once
we had a decent number of ducks in the rear cargo area, Ray Kohle was to
get in and KEEP them there. So me and Matthew were watching just so we
could see how they went about it, but as the situation deteriorated, we
decided the wisest choice was to not get involved at all. So it was OUR
fault when most of the ducks ended up out in the middle of the pond, said
Martin.

And I said, "Yeah, well let's go."

He WAS starting to look worried about the interior of his sister's new
station wagon, but he remained determined to go through with it. After it
was all over, he said he just decided dead was dead and seeing as how we
already had six, we might as well get the rest. Really, there's not very
much ABOUT this that makes any sense, but TWENTY ducks flapping, quacking
and shitting all over a station wagon HAS to be worse than six, you know?

But anyway, somebody, either Martin or McAteer, suggested that Matthew
and I could make ourselves useful by swimming out and herding the ducks
in. I didn't think much of that idea myself, but dumb ass Matthew just
shucked his clothes and jumped in. Which bothered the ducks quite a bit
more, but they WEREN'T coming out. So Martin and McAteer were telling me
to get out there and to stop acting like a chicken shit. So I asked why
they didn't just go after the damn ducks themselves. So Martin explained
his assembly line method again and he also said if we couldn't get the
ducks headed in the right direction pretty soon, we'd go, but he thought
if I helped Matthew we could get the ducks in to McAteer and even if we
didn't he'd give us a six-pack just for trying. Well, it didn't seem too
wise to stand there arguing about it what with all that racket; I mean it
wouldn't have taken much more to have convinced me that they really COULD
wake up the dead; and besides that, it didn't look like Matthew was
coming out until I went in and finally there was the beer.

I said, "Make it a six-pack apiece."

And Martin said OK, and so I went.

And then things got logical again. After it was all over, Ray Kohle said
Martin and McAteer had already decided they were going to leave us out
there if we were dumb enough to jump in, and he couldn't warn us because
he didn't want to appear over-protective. But they intended to come back
after a few minutes, they NEVER intended to just STAY gone, no way!

Of course Martin said it was all McAteer's idea. And vice versa.

Well, I really WOULD like to know whose idea it was, even if it all
became pretty much academic once the security guard got after them. I
mean at THAT point I have to admit it wouldn't have been too cool for
them to come back.

McAteer said we were actually lucky though. WE didn't have to ride back
with the ducks.

Right. Well anyway, if you should EVER for some unfathomable reason
decide to get some ducks from a cemetery, then my first bit of advice is
DON'T. Just say no. But if you end up TRYING to do it, well, don't even
bother going into a pond after them because they can swim better than you
can. If they get into the water, give it up. But let's say you do go into
the pond because you just felt like it or they promised you a six-pack.
Well in that case, if the person who promised you that six-pack is
driving, go in fully clothed. Yeah but the person who's driving says,
"Look. You are NOT going to drip dry on my sister's upholstery. Now stop
acting like a little candy ass." OK, well ask him if it makes any
difference what with the ducks. But you didn't THINK of that. Well, then
at LEAST go in your underwear and I did, but Matthew DIDN'T. Because that
just HAD to be another day he'd "forgotten" to wear any.

Well, whatever, we'd barely started cussing when we spotted the fast
approaching flashing blue lights of the security officer in his jeep, so
we ducked under and hoped he was after the station wagon, which he was.
And we hoped all three of them ended up behind bars. And we were going to
quit the JPPNA. We'd just see how Ray Kohle liked THAT!

But after talking it over we decided whether our ex-friends and the ducks
were caught or not, we probably shouldn't wait around to see what was
going to happen, so we made a mad dash for the woods.

So fine. Were we going to stay in those woods or what? No we were NOT
going to stay there, not even if the entire metropolitan
Minneapolis-St.Paul area saw us, because those woods were no place to be
traipsing about without shoes on after dark. And furthermore, there were
mosquitoes in those woods; evil, ravenous creatures who obviously had
never seen anything like us, I mean they were about to carry us OFF.

And Matthew said you can snag your balls, too. So I don't guess there
really is anything that doesn't have a potential downside to it.

So we just said the hell with it and headed off for home. (That would be
Matthew's house.) It seemed unlikely we could walk near two miles
undetected, but at past three in the morning it was at least remotely
possible, so we were almost nonchalant about it. If we met up with a
Hennepin County Sheriff's Deputy, or anyone else who might be curious,
we'd just say three perverts in a maroon 1987 Ford Taurus station wagon
had forced us at gunpoint to strip only we'd escaped. Into the woods. And
we could show him the mosquito bites. And we would also mention that they
had some ducks. As for WHY, well, we didn't know and we really didn't
WANT to know. But we were NOT going to run like two scared rabbits into
God knows what at the first sign of approaching headlights. No, we'd just
get it over with.

And no, he could NOT wear my underwear half of the way back. I said,
"No!! Just FORGET IT! OK?"

"Oh OK" said Matthew, "...but how about if-"

"No!!!"

After about five or ten minutes we heard a car approaching.

"Oh God" said Matthew.

"Well, we might as well get it over with" I said.

"Yeah, I guess" said Matthew.

After all, running naked or even near naked through somebody's back yard
doesn't create a real good first impression, either. We could see the
lights by then, although the driver hadn't topped the hill. Well, it was
Matthew who first broke and ran, but I was right behind him. But no
complications arose and after a minute or so we returned to the street.

"You know what? This ain't no fun" I noted.

Matthew said I had no idea what fun really was. Well, I didn't care.

And so we proceeded bashfully along. About 5 minutes later, here came
another car and off we went into somebody else's back yard. But once
again, no complications arose, in fact, for me things took a turn for the
better as now I had a shirt. Just saw it out in the yard. It came down to
just below my undies. So see, it wouldn't have helped Matthew because he
was about 6 1/2 inches taller. Wouldn't even have covered his dick. But
after him bitching and me thinking about it for about a minute, I guessed
I'd go ahead and let him have my undies. I mean he was just embarrassing
the shit out of me. And as long as I was careful I was still decent.
Barring any sudden updrafts. And I will admit to one other motive. I was
thinking if we DID make it to his house, it was going to make one really
interesting story, but as it was, I could also hear him butting in with
"Shit! I had to walk home NAKED, at least he had on SOMETHING!" then HE'D
get to tell it.

The LAST car came almost out of nowhere, I mean we didn't even HEAR it
until it was right BEHIND us, and all we could do was dive into a ditch.
I think it must have just pulled out of a driveway or something and we
figured whoever was in that car almost HAD to see us, but at least it
kept on going without slowing down. Still, we stayed in that ditch for a
good ten minutes. We were shaking all over.

But FINALLY we were on our way again. So not very much further down the
road was a large vacant lot, almost grown over with prairie grass about
as high as my chin, and as we passed by, a VOICE was heard to say,
"Lordy! What's THAT Mabel? Why I believe it is a couple of STREAKERS!
Woman, fetch me my gun and you best be quick about it."

We almost jumped right out of our skin. Then it occurred to me that that
highly exaggerated southern drawl sounded familiar. It was Ray Kohle!

So I don't guess it serves any purpose to reproduce all the bitter
insults, recriminations, denials, and explanations except to say they
went on for awhile but gradually subsided. He did have our clothes and he
was soon kind enough to give them to us. He said he was real sorry about
the duck shit. So were we, but I don't guess it was his fault. He also
had almost that entire case of tall Buds, so it wasn't long before
Matthew and I were feeling fairly mellow and willing to listen to reason,
and of course we realized it was just completely against his character to
do such a thing to us, Someone ELSE he might do that way, but not his
number two and number four all-stars. Maybe he'd make us THINK he would
do such a thing, but only for five minutes at the very most. I mean after
all, we were his alter-egos.

Ray Kohle said he was leaning over the back seat trying to figure out if
there was any conceivable way the ducks might be kept out of the
passenger area when suddenly Martin and McAteer jumped in the front seat,
slammed the doors and tore off with one back door still open. Well, he
went into the cargo area head first and ducks just went everywhere. He
said it was kind of hard to think, but he did realize right away that we
were going to be upset and he was upset too, but once he saw the blue
lights, he knew they weren't coming back any time soon.

Fortunately for them the security officer's jeep wasn't that fast, even
in comparison to a station wagon, and after several screeching fast turns
they lost him, but of course they weren't completely sure about that.
They tore into Martin's apartment complex and killed the lights, but that
didn't do a whole lot of good because of the ducks. Martin was about to
pull his hair out and McAteer was just moaning, "Ohh.. SHIT! Ho-ly shit!
Martin, we got to get OUT of here, man! Damn! I KNEW we shouldn't be
messing around no damn cemetery, I TOLD you, but NOOO, you just wouldn't
listen, ohh..." That sort of thing.

But in spite of all the insanity Martin frantically dug into his pocket
and threw him the keys to his Honda Civic with, "You better go see if you
can find Matthew and J.J." then even as lights began to come on all over,
"Oh, and take that case with you. If you find 'em, give it to them" and
then he roared off into the night.

Which sounded a lot like "The Ancient Mariner" to me. At least in a way.

And oh by the way. That car that came out of nowhere... that was Ray
Kohle. And to tie up a few other loose ends, well, after awhile Martin
and McAteer finally managed to get the ducks out of the station wagon
somewhere back near Whispering Pines.

The following night McAteer was trying to tell me they ended up taking a
chainsaw to them.

While I didn't believe THAT, I WAS worried about them, so Martin finally
told me the truth. I think. Actually, he offered to take me by the pond,
in his Honda Civic of course, and let me see for myself only I wasn't
sure how many ducks there were to begin with, nor could I tell one from
another, but I guess they're OK.

Martin ended up telling his sister somebody; he had no idea who because
he didn't see it happen; put those damn ducks in the station wagon while
he was at Pizza Hut. His sister was still very upset; his entire family
was upset and I am pretty sure he never drove his sister's station wagon
again. Never ever. And that takes care of the loose ends.

And so returning to the vacant lot in the wee hours of Friday morning, it
wasn't long before me and Matthew were fairly drunk, in fact Matthew
passed out and I threw up. Well, just before Matthew started wanting to
go to sleep and almost immediately after I puked on my clothes, Ray Kohle
mentioned how it was unwise for any of us to be caught consuming
alcoholic beverages, so maybe we should head to his apartment for the
rest of the night.

So I said OK.

"I just want to go asleep" mumbled Matthew. We practically had to carry
him to the car and when we got to Ray Kohle's place, we DID have to carry
him. He just said something about did Ray Kohle have a sleeping bag, and
he did, so we stuck him in and he was dead to the world.

By that time I was feeling better physically, close to hyper in fact, but
otherwise I felt right cruddy because of throwing up on myself. I didn't
see much point in being shy since he'd already seen me anyway. And I was
also intoxicated. So I asked if I could take a shower.

"I guess you can" he said.

And was there any way I could get my clothes washed?

"Yeah, I can sneak them over to the house, but what you gonna wear in the
meantime?"

Well, that shirt I found. It was better than nothing.

So OK. When I got out of the shower he hadn't returned yet. I put on my
shirt. Then I looked at myself. And checked out several different
positions in a full length mirror. I wonder if Matthew ever did that?
Well, whatever, I didn't care, in fact, I got a mild boner just thinking
about it, and even though shortly before I was thinking I didn't want to
see another beer for the rest of my life, I decided to pop another in
hopes of killing what remaining inhibitions I had.

When he finally returned I was reclining in his recliner, nursing that
beer and watching MTV.

But he paid me little mind, just sat down on the edge of his bed and
started undressing. He sleeps in his underwear. Boxers. But his fly was
open and it looked like he had a lot of hair down there. Fairly big dick,
too. Which reminds me, I never have said anything ABOUT his physical
appearance. Well, he was right at six feet tall, not real muscular, but
certainly not scrawny. He had dark black hair. Probably got around to
shaving about once a month, beyond that it was unnecessary. Girls would
think him to be cute, I thought he was handsome. (Matthew was cute, OK?)
Lots of hair on his legs, but not a WHOLE lot on his thighs. He had a
small line of hair growing up to his navel. No hair on his chest though.
If I end up looking something like him when I get to be 17, I wouldn't be
let down about it. I hope I'm not peeking up kid's shorts at that age (I
hope it's not necessary) but all in all, not bad.
But ANYway, "When are my clothes going to be done?" I wondered.

"Probably in about an hour. Can't you wait until we wake up in the
morning? I've about had it."

"Oh shit. I guess so" I said and immediately I felt a small surge in my
penis. Although it really wasn't anything to go hiding the women and
children over, I mean I gave myself a quick secretive feel and at that
point it wasn't even sticking out.

Only guess what. Nothing happened. NOTHING. Shit, he was asleep before I
even crawled in beside him. Here I'd been LOOKING for a situation where I
had no control over what happened, here WAS such a situation, so what
does he do? He fucking goes to SLEEP. I was very disappointed.

As is the reader no doubt. SOME readers right now might be saying, "Damn
it, I thought EVENTUALLY there was going to be some SEX!"

Well, I can always make up something. "While in the shower I dropped my
soap." The end.

But I didn't SAY there wasn't going to be any sex in this story. I just
said it didn't happen when I EXPECTED it.

Righto. So here we go. Right after the playoffs were over, out of nowhere
Matthew was in love with a GIRL. It was SICKENING. But I guess I can save
that for part 7. And don't worry, if it starts out badly, it ends a whole
lot better. I figured I might as well mention that, mostly because I
already HAVE. But anyway, it should go without saying that I was a bit
out of sorts. To say the very least.

I should also mention that in early July I finally gave in to the
temptation of being a cool dude and made my first entry into the
wonderful world of drugs. But it wasn't because of Ray Kohle or McAteer,
it was courtesy of Tallis. But then Matthew found out and about had a
hissy, so at that point I promised not to do it anymore. But then when
Matthew started hanging out with a damn GIRL, I decided I didn't need to
be true to him anymore and by God, this time I'd just be a fricking
pothead. Only the day before Tallis got himself kicked off for the rest
of the year because of him deciding to take a shower out on the course.
But there was always McAteer or Ray Kohle. And others, but my best bet
seemed to be Ray Kohle.

Ray Kohle seemed to be a bit depressed himself. But that should hardly
come as a surprise, as the summer was fast coming to an end and in a few
weeks the course would be closed until next spring. And of course the
JPPNA playoffs were OVER, so league play was over and done with as well
and lots of kids were finding other things to do. And then there were
JPPNAs who were finding ways of getting their butts kicked off the
course, many for the rest of the year. And Ray Kohle was thinking about
going back to school himself so he could at least live at home and not
have to worry so much about expenses.

And so it was that on a Tuesday when Matthew didn't ever bother showing
up at the course I found myself riding around with Ray Kohle getting
wasted. Which sure didn't take long because he had some GOOD shit. And
since he had close to a pound, I soon wondered if he could sell me some.

Well, yeah, but he was asking $200 an ounce. And he wasn't selling less
than an ounce.

Ouch. That was about all the money I HAD. So I looked disappointed.

Which apparently he noticed. Well, he was SUPPOSED to notice, so that
worked pretty well, but ANYway after a bit of thought he said, "Well... I
could GIVE you half an ounce... but that depends... well... umm... well-"

"Depends on what?" I interupted. Because I was definitely interested and
he seemed to be having some trouble getting it out. But yes, all at once
his voice DID sound funny. And I was interested in whatever THAT was as
well.

So after taking a deep breath, he just blurted it out. "Let me borrow
your soccer shorts for awhile. Just borrow them. I mean I'll give them
back... after awhile."

And at THAT point silence reigned for oh... well, I guess for less than a
minute, but then you might know how pot affects time perception. "Oh my
God, I'm going to PROSTITUTE myself for drugs!" I thought. Well, that was
probably my superego thinking that, because then my ID went "You been
LETTING him look up your shorts all summer, a couple of times even
without your damn undies on, so GO for it. Shit, give him your undies
TOO!" Only then my ego said (bet you were wondering if I was ever going
to get HIM in), yes, the great mediator reminded me that he'd only asked
for my soccer shorts, NOT my undies, so maybe if I played my cards right
I'd end up with an entire ounce. Which is exactly why my superego might
as well just shut the fuck up, because counting me, that's three against
one.

I found my tongue. "What? You mean if I pull off my shorts right here in
the car, you'll give me half an OUNCE?"

"Yeah. Deal?" His voice seemed to be returning to normal.

"Well shit. Why not" and with that I yanked them down and off. It was
quite a rush, actually. And I handed them to him.

"Damn" said Ray Kohle with a slight note of disappointment, "I was hoping
you weren't wearing your undies today."

Truth is, he could have talked me out of them without much effort on his
part, but I was still hoping for more than half an ounce, so I gave him a
tentative grin and shrugged.

"Well, I can't go over half an ounce."

Darn! But apparently we were still bargaining. Then the most outrageous
idea popped into my head, just like that. "Well, OK ... I'll let you
borrow them too... if you got enough nerve to take off all YOUR clothes.
... Now."

And Ray Kohle said, "DAMN!! ... This is a fucking TRIP!... Well, OK, just
let me pull over a minute here..."

At which point I was wondering exactly why I ever THOUGHT of such a
thing. We weren't on a major throughfare, but we WERE in a residential
area, and there were second story windows somebody might be looking out
of, and boy oh boy, he sure wasn't wasting anytime getting naked... shit!
He WAS naked! With a big boner! Damn! "Um... do you know somewhere sort
of private where we can park or something?"

"Yeah, I was sort of thinking about that too" he said somewhat
breathlessly, then he added, "Your undies, please."

Fast as I could, I yanked them off. Damn! Let's get OUT of here! Glad I
still got my shirt on. Nope, we ain't bargaining for that. No WAY! But
now we're going to PARK! THEN what? Shit, I hope this works out, I
mean... why in the FUCK did I SAY that?

Because I didn't want to be sitting in a damn residential area, that's
why. We were moving again. I'm relieved in that respect, but still pretty
much  scared shitless. Must've looked it too.

Because he said, "Hey dude, it's cool, OK? This is my first time too,
believe it or not. Doing something like this, I mean. You ever do
anything like this before?" He was saying this in a great big rush, so
OK, he must be a little nervous himself.

No, I hadn't ever done anything like that. So it should go without saying
that I was still wondering exactly what we were going to DO. But I still
couldn't help but steal a few glances at him. I mean after all, I asked
him to get naked because I wanted to see what he looked like, and now he
WAS naked. And I was sort of like OH WOW! It's BIG! (Having thought it
over, I'd say a little over seven inches. Which IS above average, but
certainly not anything for the Guinness Book of Records.) (But right at
that MOMENT..)

Ray Kohle glanced over at me and said, "Damn! You look SEXY! You don't
mind my saying that do you?" (I shrugged.) "That night you and Matthew
got left in the duck pond, shit! You looked so CUTE wearing just that
shirt. Man, it was all I could do to keep my hands off you that night,
I'm not kidding." And by then we were on a dirt road with no houses in
sight. And I was sure glad of THAT.

And then we were parked. "So" he said, "Now what?"

Good question. "I don't know, maybe..." Damn! That WAS a good question.

"Well, let me take a peek here" and with that he lifted the bottom of my
tee shirt. "AWESOME!"

I wouldn't have exactly gone THAT far, but.. well, maybe to him it DID
look awesome. Me, I thought it looked impressive, for a skinny little
four inch spike, it did... then he TOUCHED it. And it jumped.

"Man, when I finally figured out you guys were LETTING me look up your
shorts, I almost quit. Glad I didn't though.." and NOW he was jerking me
OFF!

And I was fairly sure it wasn't going to take very long. So I guessed if
I wanted to jerk HIM off, I'd best get started. I would have thought I'd
be a bit tentative about such a momentous step, but nope, all at once I
had my hand around it. It felt... big. Hard. Warm. And IT jumped. And he
gasped.

"SHIT!" said he, then "Hey wait! Wait! Time out, OK?... I mean let's grab
our clothes and we'll go up in the woods a little ways, OK?" And maybe I
looked a bit thunderstruck, because he quickly added, "You'll like it OK?
You'll LOVE it. Promise."

Well, he sure got THAT right. I THOUGHT I knew what was about to happen,
but I wasn't POSITIVE, because it was almost too much to hope for... but
once out of sight from the road he turned me facing him, then all at once
without warning he dropped to his knees, took a deep breath and under my
shirt he went! All at once his head just disappeared. Under my shirt. And
then he swallowed me whole. And in spite of everything, I was quite
startled.

When that wet warmth enveloped my straining prick, I think I said...
well, actually I have no IDEA what I said. I think it was in an alien
language.

But I sure wish I had a movie of it. Ray Kohle's head bobbing up and down
under my tee shirt... now that would be funny I think. But the BEST
sequence would have been when I pulled my shirt up to just under my chin
to look. I wish I could've seen my face right then. I'm pretty sure I was
giggling. But just imagine a look of absolute delighted AWE and there
you'd have it I think.

It would have been a very short movie though, because about the time he
swallowed my BALLS and then started licking between my legs just BELOW my
balls, it started jerking. Good thing he had both his hands on my ass at
the time, or I might've fallen over. And I THINK he was about to stick
his finger up my hole; well, he was pulling my cheeks apart; so yeah, I
think that's what he had in mind all right; but ANYway, just about an
instant before mine started jerking, his jerked and erupted. Damn near
simultaneous orgasms! WOW!

Then he pulled away, looked up at me and said, "You OK?"

And I said, "Oh WOW!!"

"So you liked it, huh?"

"Oh, MAN!! ... So you want-"

"That would be like beating a dead horse" he said shakily. "I just lost
it. And I don't know if you're going to believe this, but that really WAS
my first time. ... So you're not freaked out or anything? ... I mean
you're cool on this, right?"

"Yeah. It felt great" I answered with great conviction.

"Cool. So if you're up here next summer... Well, I'm going to give you
time in case you start having second thoughts, but if it's still cool
next summer and you're around... well, we'll see, right?"

That's cool. It's WAY cool. I mean I'm not sure what things are going to
be like this year; God, I HOPE Matthew hasn't got another girl, and I'm
trying not to worry about it; but no matter what, there's hope. For what,
I'm not really sure, but... we'll see.

But think about it. Somebody gives ME a blow job and I get the equivalent
of $100. That's not bad at all.



And I hope you liked part 6. Drop me a line. Well, if you WANT to. You
know, how's my story holding up so far? That sort I thing. Would love to
hear from you. Or at least I THINK I would.

jjjanicki@gmail.com