An unfinished tale from the archives... What do you think? email@example.com
This is a story I started a while ago and haven’t been back to it since. I thought I’d post it and see if you all think I should keep it going. Let me know what you think at firstname.lastname@example.org
Summer of ‘76
I couldn’t believe my eyes. I cut my run short and got back to the cabin a good half-hour before I usually would have. It was too hot outside and I was too horny. If the bugs hadn’t been so bad, I’d have stopped in the woods and jacked-off. But, I figured I could do the same thing in my own bed much more comfortably. But when I opened the door, I saw the little shit was in my room on my bed, naked, his right hand wrapped around his long, skinny, rigid dick and moving up and down it at a medium pace. His left hand was holding one of my old work-boots to his face and he was snorting deep breaths from inside it. There was a slow stream of pre-cum oozing from the nub of his foreskin, which covered the whole head of his dick even though it was fully hard. I’d seen him naked a couple times and knew that his dick was uncut (my favorite kind), but I’d never seen him with an erection. Several thought struck like lightning in a matter of seconds. The first thing to strike me was that his dick was long. Much longer than I ever expected. Probably an inch or two longer than my healthy (and fat, I might add) six and a half inches. But like the rest of his body, his dick was skinny, probably a little bigger around than a quarter at the most. Then next thing to strike me was how big his balls were. They were each clearly defined, hanging low in their hairless sac and were rising and falling in time with the hand on his dick. He was skin and bones, lanky and gangly. You could see each and every one of his wiry little muscles just as well as if he’d been a body-builder. His pale, freckled skin was pulled so tight to his long and lean bantam frame that… well, I thought he was fucking hot.
Can’t explain it, but tall, skinny geeks float my boat. And this kid was one of the tallest (at least six-two, if not six-three), skinniest (like I said, one-fifty maybe), biggest nerds I’d ever met. And he was a redhead, which I also really like (in the winter, his hair was deeper, darker, more of a copper-color, but was bleached by the sun in summer to a bright terra-cotta shade). He wore his hair long-ish, one length hanging almost to his bony shoulders. He was one of those people who simply could not stop moving, and for a month or two, over the last few summers, I’d kept a close eye on him. I’d jacked-off dozens, maybe hundreds of times fantasizing about him. But I never, ever actually imagined that anything would ever happen between us.
I was the Head Counselor at Camp that summer. 1976, with all the Bi-Centennial hoopla, I’ll never forget it. But the nation-wide celebration isn’t the only thing I’ll never forget about that summer. It was the Fourth of July weekend and the only weekend all summer that the camp closed-down. The entire staff got time-off from noon on Saturday until noon Monday. The whole staff except for me, that is. As Head Counselor, I got stuck being the one person (as required by our insurance company) to stay at Camp that weekend. Other than the masses of paperwork, having to be on-duty for the holiday weekend was really the only drawback to the job. I got paid extra for the added responsibility and I also got my own room in the Staff Cabin. Having my own room at Camp was well worth any hassles that came with being Head Counselor. When you sleep, shit, shave and shower with ten to twelve other guys, privacy is almost impossible to find. Summers past, I found quite a few hidden spots where I’d steal-away when I wouldn’t be missed to jack-off whenever I could. That summer, I could beat my meat all night if I wanted to, and did a few nights, which was the biggest advantage of having my own space.
It struck me that he didn’t hear me open the door and I realized that was because he was listening to my record-player with my headphones. Nobody touched my records or my turntable… For a moment, I was more angry than horny. Then the reality of the situation hit me. My Junior Counselor was naked in my bed, whacking-off while sniffing one of my stinky, old work boots. I could hear him moaning softly. I watched as another blob of pre-cum drizzled from the pucker of his foreskin and seconds later, my lust overcame my anger. It did cross my mind that I could just back-up a bit, close the door and let him finish, having quite enough of the image seared in my mind for use as jerk-off-fodder, but then he spoke.
His words seemed louder than I’m sure he intended, even though he thought he was alone – listening to music with headphones will makes it seem like you’re talking softer… So I hear the little shit say, “Please, Tom,” that’s me, by the way, Tom Stone. He went on, “Please may I suck your toes instead.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Not just that he wanted to suck my toes, but I don’t think I’d ever heard him ask for anything with such manners. His breaths were coming in snorts, his nose deep in my boot. “Pretty please, with sugar and a cherry on top. Or make me suck your cock. I promise I’ll suck it good. I’ll even swallow your spunk when you pop off in my mouth.” Then his voice went up an octave and he went on, “Please, Tugger… Please, anything else… No, please, not my butt… I’ve never been fucked before… I’ll lick your ass even, drink your piss… Anything… No… Fuck it hurts… Please Tug, stop… I can’t take it… Your cock’s so big… Fuck… No, please no… It hurts, oh fuck it hurts… Tuuugggeeeerrrrr, nnnnooooo, it fucking huuurrrtttsss………” (Tug, or Tugger, was my nickname at Camp, from a camp-song, Tom, Tom Tugger, by the way)
His right hand was moving faster and faster up and down his long dick and pre-cum was oozing more steadily. Then I saw his balls jerk, pulling up for just a second, and then falling back, almost to the mattress. In that second, I got a quick glimpse of his little asshole and felt my cock throb.
“Riley!” I called-out before I realized I’d said anything, my voice definitely loud enough to penetrate through the earphones covering his ears. His whole body reacted. He went from laying-down to sitting-up in a fraction of a second. At the same time his hands dropped their contents, his dick and my old work-boot, the latter of which fell with a thunk to the floor. His whole body, pale, freckled skin with a tinge of sunburn-pink and a bit of flush from his exertion, went beet-red with embarrassment and shock at getting caught. My mind was chaotic and I can only describe what happened next as a moment of lust-filled insanity.
But let me go back just a moment to set things up for full effect. Like I said, Camp was deserted except for Riley and me – he stayed over the weekend basically because he had nowhere else to go. He’d been invited to join other staff members for the weekend, invitations born of pity or nicety, which I had a feeling Riley knew. He was a typical young male redhead, impish, mischievous and often obnoxious. I’d known him for seven years and only in the last few, once his body began to mature, had I really taken notice of him. It was a surprise to almost everyone when I chose him to be my Jr. Counselor (another perk of being Head Counselor is that I got to pick who I wanted to work with). I said it was because I felt he needed the most help and guidance and that I was one of the few people he’d actually listen to, and if nothing else, I could keep a close eye on him if he was in my cabin. And believe me, I watched him like a hawk… not so much to make sure he stayed out of trouble, but mostly because I just liked to watch him. We had the sort of relationship where, if one didn’t know us well, he might think that we didn’t like each other very well. But those who did know us, knew that all the sniping and jibing, the sarcasm and put-down all stemmed from a deep connection. I’d known for years that Riley looked up to me with almost a hero-worship mentality, and for the last few years I’d thought of him as the little-brother I never had.
But something changed as I stood there watching Riley masturbate and sniff my boot, while fantasizing about me about to fuck his ass. Well, I guess that’s enough to change almost any relationship. So once reality slapped him in the face and he understood exactly what I’d caught him at, his horror showed plainly on his face and he started in, “Fuck, Tug, this isn’t… It’s not what it looks like… I wasn’t, I mean, I was, I… Fuck!”
“I think it’s exactly what it looks like, Sanchez.” (Sanchez was one of many nicknames Riley’s had over the years, from Red, to Spaz, to Saxophone – his last name is Ramsax – Sanchez was also the nickname Riley hated the most, coming from a counselor a few years before, who said that Riley’s hair was the same color as a moustache after eating-out a girl on her period, or a Bloody-Sanchez, and knowing he hated it…) I don’t know where it came from. Normally I’m an easy-going, kind person. But something happened that day and I behaved as I never had before. “And it looks like you’re a sick, dirty, faggot, playing with your little pencil-dick in my fucking bed, with my stinking boot shoved into your face, and it also looked and sounded like you were about to bust your nuts thinking about me fucking your worthless asshole.”
For a moment he stared at me, knowing I was right and horrified at the thought. Then the tears started to flow down his long, freckled face and his head fell. Riley was sobbing and mumbling, but I could only catch a word here and there. “Please,” and “Tugger,” and something I finally realized was, “Please don’t tell anyone. I’ll do anything you want, anything, if you don’t tell on me.” I could feel the pressure building inside me. I was horny as hell and a bit pissed-off. And I’d even been thinking about Riley while on my run, thinking about his body, the naked body slumped there on my bed. I thought about sucking his dick, sniffing his pits, licking his ass. I knew deep down I was a sick pervert, fantasizing about all sorts of disgusting things when I jacked-off. And it seemed as though I’d found a kindred-spirit in Riley. But, the way it happened still surprises me.
“Shut the fuck up, you disgusting pervert.” I took a step closer and his shaking, bawling body flinched back a bit and started crying even harder. “Get the fuck off my bed, faggot!” He shot up off my bed like he’d been shocked by an electric current. His shoulders were slumped over and his head was still hanging. I could see tears dripping down to his smooth, narrow chest. His dick had completely deflated, though there was still a string of clear pre-cum dripping from it. He was trying to control his sobbing, and still muttering. Now it was the same two phrases over and over, “I’m sorry, Tug, I’m so sorry,” and “Please don’t tell, please, I’ll do anything…”
“Get down on your knees, you little bitch,” I hissed, knowing, yet not really thinking about where this was headed. Riley complied, his quaking, lanky form slowly descending. “I walk in here and hear you begging to suck my cock, is that what you want? You fucking cunt! You want my cock?”
His crying became even louder and… Holy shit, I did hear it. Under his sobs, I heard him say, “Yes.”
“Speak up, you fucking crybaby… You want my cock?”
It was one of the strangest things I’ve ever seen in my life. Riley’s body started shaking even harder and he blubbered even louder. Then he took a deep, gasping breath and like that, he stopped crying. His body was still quivering, and tears were still pouring down his face, but he stopped crying and in a shaking, weak voice I clearly heard the words, “Yes, I want your cock.”
“Look at me, slut,” I said with a commanding voice. It took him a moment to get his face all the way up so that we could look one another in the eye. Normally Riley had beautiful, if not impish green eyes, but now they were blood-shot and puffy. My cock throbbed. Fuck, he looked good… “Now, loud and clear, tell me what you want, faggot.”
There was another deep, shuddering breath and he said, “I want your cock, Tug. Please, I’ve wanted it forever. You’re the hottest guy I ever knew and…” He must have seen something in my eyes, and as his words stopped, he looked back down again.
“I told you to fucking look at me, damn it,” and as the last words came out, my hand reached out and I smacked my hand against the side of his head and grabbed a handful of his thick, long hair. He let out a squeal, as I moved his head to make him look at me. “Are you a disgusting faggot?” He looked like a beaten-puppy as he nodded. I tightened my grip in his hair and in a more powerful voice repeated, “Are you a disgusting faggot?” He nodded more vigorously. I tightened my fist again and said, “Tell me, fuck-nut, tell me what you are.”
“I’m a faggot,” he whimpered, “a disgusting faggot.”
“Are you a dirty, cock-hungry slut?”
“Yes,” he said, starting to cry again. And when I tightened my hand in his hair one more time, he let out a wail and cried-out, “Yes, Tug, I’m a dirty, cock-hungry slut.”
I pulled his face to my crotch and felt the heat of his breath as he exhaled. All I had on was a jock-strap and a light, loose pair of shorts and even though I was already hot and steamy, his breath made everything even hotter and steamier. I could have gotten myself off just thinking about having the skinny redhead down on his knees with his face in my crotch, but actually having it happen felt even better than I could have ever imagined. I felt my cock throb and I had to fight the urge to spurt my wad right then. Then he inhaled, pulling cooler air in through my crotch. I could tell he was breathing through his nose, not his mouth. The little shit was snorting the funky, sweaty smell of my crotch. My cock throbbed and I almost popped again. I had to squeeze every muscle between my hips to keep from shooting.
“You like sniffing my crotch, don’t you, faggot?”
“Oh yeah, Tugger,” his words were somewhat muted, I still had a big fistful of his thick red hair and was keeping his face tight against my shorts. “You smell so fucking good, all sweaty and…” His words became intelligible as I pulled him even tighter against me, squeezing my crotch more to keep from coming. I couldn’t believe how excited I was. It was a dream come true, a wet dream come true, but I didn’t want it to end too soon.
I pulled Riley off my crotch and looked down at him. His eyes were still puffy and his face was still smeared with tears, but he’d stopped crying. He looked up at me for a couple seconds, and then averted his eyes. I wasn’t quite sure what I was going to do with the naked, lanky kid just yet, although I knew whatever I did, it was going to be incredible.
“So, you like the way I smell?” I asked, giving his head a shake and pulling his hair.
“Oh yeah,” he mumbled, and then I felt him try to move his face back to the front of my shorts, “you smell fucking awesome.” I didn’t let him plant his face back in my crotch. Instead, I yanked him back and, as I looked down at him, I saw that his long, skinny dick, which had gone limp as cooked spaghetti, was once again rigid and stiff, sticking up from the little patch of red pubes between his bony hips. Without actually thinking about it, I shoved his head down and tapped his thigh, just a few inches from his dangling balls, with the toe of my running-shoe.
Riley sort of crumbled on the floor at my feet and, from the sounds of it, was crying again. I moved around and sat on my bed, extending my legs out in front of me, so that the naked redhead was between them. “Let’s try a few of those things you said you wanted to do, punk.” I said, kicking him lightly on his legs, his butt and once, taping my shoe against his thin hard-on. “Take my shoes off, you fucking pervert!” I commanded. He was shaking and it took him a moment to untie the first one, then when he had my shoe off, his hands started to caress my sweaty, sock-covered foot. And when he tried to move his face to my foot, I pulled it away. “I still got one more shoe, bitch.”
The second shoe came off quicker and just like the first, his hands were all over my foot. And this time, when he went to move his face to my foot, I let him. As he sniffed and snorted one of my feet, I used the other to poke and prod at his balls and cock. He was grunting and groaning, huffing and puffing, trying to inhale as much of my sweaty-foot-stench as he could. I’d never been so turned-on. I felt like I was about to explode.
“You fucking love this, don’t you, Sanchez?” I said in a menacing voice. Riley nodded and I heard him utter a muffled, “Uh huh.” I was rubbing my sock-covered foot all over his face, my other foot moving around his crotch, and I could see the little shit’s dick throbbing. I really liked feeling his face with my toes and as I rubbed them over his mouth, well, it just seemed natural to stick them in his mouth. I poked and prodded at his lips, but his mouth wouldn’t open. So, I had to tell him what I wanted. “Open your fucking mouth and suck my feet, bitch”
It didn’t take long for the toes of my socks to become saturated with the kid’s spit. He sucked and slurped on my toes, even biting them lightly once or twice. And all the while, his dick remained completely rigid. “Take my socks off,” I ordered. I pulled my toes from inside his mouth and he pulled that sock off first. Then I pushed my bare toes at his lips again, as he worked removing my other sock, so that as the second one came off, he’d just started sucking on my bare toes.
“Oh fuck yeah,” I moaned, feeling his hot tongue swiping around my toes. No one had ever licked my feet before and it felt incredible. My other foot started moving over his body, feeling him skin to skin. I rubbed my toes and foot all over his crotch, his belly and even up his chest. Then, when the urge to spurt was once again building, I pulled my foot from his mouth and replaced it with the other.
“Look at me!” His expression was priceless. A mixture of lust, shame and fright. I wiggled my toes in his mouth, feeling his tongue swipe between them. I so badly wanted to reach into my shorts and start whacking my cock. I imagined myself spurting my wad on my feet, and then making him lick it all up. But, like I said, I didn’t want it to end this soon. I pulled my toes out of his mouth and slapped his face with my spit-coated foot. His blood-shot green eyes were still looking at me as he reached up to wipe his spit and sweat from his face.
“You’re going to do whatever I fucking want you to, aren’t you?” I hissed. He nodded. “Fucking right, you are,” I said. Then I lay back with my arms over my head and looked up to the ceiling. “I’m so hot and sweaty, I should take a shower,” I said. It was a true statement, even though I’d taken a shower that morning. But, like I said, it was a hot day, almost ninety in the shade, and after working all morning, then taking my run, I was quite ripe again. “But I think I’d rather have you clean me. How does that sound, faggot? You want to lick all the sweat off me?”
I didn’t look at him, but I heard him mumble a “Yeah.”
“Yeah, what? Tell me what you want, cunt! Tell me you want to use that useless mouth of yours to lick my body clean! Tell me how badly you want to taste my fucking sweat! Beg for it, bitch!”
His voice came out louder and with more conviction than I thought it would. “Please, Tug. Please let me lick you. Make me clean your sweat. Please…”
I let him go on for a while. There were a few tears still falling from his eyes. Although he wasn’t sobbing any more, he did gulp down a few breaths. He looked so pitiful, kneeling at my feet and begging for me to let him lick the sweat off every inch of my body. Then I noticed Riley wasn’t looking into my eyes any more. I was on my back on my bed, my feet on the floor, the redhead boy between my spread legs and he was looking right at my crotch. My jock kept my cock from really pitching a tent in my running-shorts, but there was no way my cock could hide entirely. And the little shit was staring right at it and begging to lick me.
I flexed my cock and when it moved, his eyes came back to mine. Fuck yeah, he wanted it. “Tell me how much you want my cock, faggot.” He wasted no time. He went on for a minute, begging for my cock, telling me that he’d lick it, suck it, that he’d do anything I wanted. “Yeah,” I interrupted after a bit, “Fucking slut really wants it, don’t you?” He nodded excitedly. “And you think I’m going to give it to you, don’t you?” I sneered. His expression changed instantly. He looked like a whipped-puppy again. Hopeful, but scared. “You don’t deserve my cock.” His face became even more pitiful-looking. “You fucking worthless piece of shit, what makes you think I’d let you touch my cock.” That did it. Tears were flowing and the sobs were starting to return.
That’s’ when I stuck a foot back in his face and said, “You did a half-ass job licking my fucking feet. Now, do it right this time.” A bit of hope sprung into his expression and he started licking my foot. “You do a good job on those feet and with the rest of my body, I just might let you lick my cock clean too. And if you do a really good job, I’ll let you lick the sweat off my balls too, you fucking pussy.”
He closed his lips around my big toe and started sucking. His long, thin fingers were massaging my foot, as he sucked from toe to toe. Then he licked my whole foot, front and back, finishing with slathering his tongue between each of my toes. He’d been going at my foot for so long that my leg was getting tired. I pulled that foot from him, readjusted myself and shoved my other foot in his face. He went my second, sweaty foot with even more enthusiasm. All the while, I said all sorts of horrible things to him. I called him every crude and degrading name I could think of. And every so often, I’d say, “If you want my cock you’re going to have to do better than that.” And every time I said that, he’d amp-up his licking and sucking.
The kid was doing amazing things to me. Granted, no one had ever mouthed my feet before, so it was a new experience for me. But it felt incredible. When did something that really felt good, like sucking real hard on my toes, or nibbling on my instep, my cock would lurch. I just lay back, eyes closed, and instead of telling him how wonderful he was making me feel, I called him a slut, a whore, told him that I’d sooner let a dog lick my cock than him. And when he’d gone over my second foot for a third time, I told him to start licking my ankles. As he licked and sucked at the skin of my lower legs, his hands started moving up my legs. He cleaned both ankles and was starting to move up my shins, he’d finally gotten to a hairy part of my body, and his tongue felt different there. His hands rubbed my legs, soon moving up my shins to my knees, where the hair thinned a bit. Before long, the little shit was pawing at my hairy thighs.
His face was moving slowly, licking and sucking at my hairy skin, from one leg to the other, then back again. His hands were moving a bit faster. Before long, they were only a few inches from my crotch. I opened my eyes and cocked my head to look at him. He was staring right at the big lump in my shorts, his mouth sucking the hair on my shin. I let him inch his long, bony fingers just a bit closer, then with a sudden jerk, I grabbed his hands and pulled him to me, which forced his face into the side of the mattress. I held his wrists in one hand, and my other head went to the back of his head.
Pressing his face against the mattress, I went off on him. “You fucking little queer, you were going for my cock, weren’t you?” I didn’t give him time to answer, and my bed would have muted his response anyway. “And after I’ve been telling you all along what a complete fucking pussy you are, and how you don’t deserve my cock, you were going for it anyway. Well fuck that. And fuck you!” You want to lick something, I’ll give you something to lick. I released my grip on his wrists and raised that arm over my head. I still had a fist-full of his hair in my other hand, and with that I pulled him up my body to my underarm. “It’s been a long, fucking day,” I said, holding his face inches from my pit. I could tell he was scared, but he was also sniffing in big huffs… “I washed that pit this morning, but didn’t put any deodorant on, so I’m sure it’s nice and ripe.” He sniffed even harder. “Fuck, boy, you really do like sniffing my reeking pit, don’t you?”
He nodded vigorously, wincing a bit because it caused me to pull his hair. “You smell so fucking good, Tugger,” he cooed between snorts. I looked down to see that his long, skinny dick was still bone hard. The little shit wasn’t lying. I wondered which of us was more excited.
I leaned over a bit and took a big sniff of my own pit. It fucking reeked. But it wasn’t old, fetid sweat. Like I said, I’d showered five or six hours before. And unless I was going out, or something, I didn’t use deodorant. Sure, sometimes I started smelling ripe, but, well, I almost hate to admit it, but I liked it. Sometimes, I even sniffed my stinky pits when I jerked-off. Now, it had been a hot and busy morning, then I took my run, and I’d been sweating a lot and that’s what my pits smelled like. The fresh sweat of a twenty-four year-old man.
I told him to shut his mouth, I didn’t want to feel any tongue or I’d beat his ass, and I wiped his face, then more and more of his head, even his long hair, all over one, then the other of my pits. The whole time I berated him, telling him how nasty he was and what a little faggot slut he was. Then I started to sniff his face. I couldn’t help myself and started to lick my stink from his smooth, freckled pale face. I licked all over his face, up his nose, in his ears (which didn’t taste too good), all before sticking my tongue into his mouth and kissing him deep and hard. When I finished kissing him, I slapped his face, reminding him how queer he was he was a disgusting pig for kissing me. Then I made him lick my pits until they no longer stank, before deciding to tease him and I let him take off my shorts. Still wearing the jock, I tease him, make him sniff my ass then make him beg to lick it.
As with my pits, I rub his face all over my sweaty, hairy ass, then sniff and lick my stench off his face. Then, after berateing him once again for kissing me, I bend over and make him lick my ass. Once again, his hands move for my cock again. This time, I slap his face out of my ass and start screaming at him. He’s terrified and when I tell him to get to his feet and frog-march him out the door, he’s four steps out before he realized that he’s naked. Well, there’s no one but us on the grounds, but I stop anyway and, telling him not to move, I go back in the cabin and put my shorts on. “Don’t want anyone to see me walking around here wearing only a jock. But you don’t matter. You aren’t even a whole person, so move your naked ass before I whip it bloody.”
I take him just inside a stand of woods and order him back on his knees. Then, asking how much he wants my cock, I finally tell him that the only way he’s ever going to get his mouth of my cock is if it’s while he’s drinking my piss. I make him beg for my piss for as long as I can hold it, before letting loose a heavy, deep amber gallon of piss and spraying him right in the face. The first half of my piss covers his body, making him soaking wet. Then I stick my dick in his mouth and making him drink it. I can’t stand it anymore, and since my cock is already in his mouth, I start fucking it......
To be Continued? Let me know if you think I should….