H.B. Stowe’s idea that a special kind of love can prevail over adversity has parallels here. This story poises locally-accepted tradition specific to a peculiar house in a wooded area against present mores to solve, in its sense, riddles affecting the life of an unmotivated teen. A tale, then, of discovery’s surprises and development’s certainties.
Dedication
To the author Edmund Marlowe
His mother’s straitened uncle had died. Ulrich half-listened as the few details were told to him. In his other hand, a half-eaten apple was turning brown. He sighed. She bounced back and forth.
“Uncle Tomas Varga was a loner. Just as well. Crap piled up. Saw it once. Newspapers, magazines, God-knows-what in that cabin. Came to Julie-Lou’s wedding in the same corduroy suit – awful old brown thing – he wore at your father’s funeral. Remember that? Wouldn’t be a pall bearer, remember that? Well, and you know about losing his scholarship to the University. Less said about it, the better. Embarrassed the whole family. Dropped out. He was supposed to be smart, Granny always claimed. Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, there’s nobody free to go over to Mulberry – I don’t mean to bury him – the Vets did that – what I mean to say is that nobody’s free to go through his junk at the cabin which is sort of in the woods. Gotta be a relative. So, I told Dr. Chad…whatever-his-name-was…”
Ulrich dropped his apple on the floor. “Mom, wait. You didn’t…”
“Honey, somebody’s got to do it, one of us – the family, you know – ’cause maybe there’s a will. Something. Anything that’ll let us sell the place. Get some money for it. You’re his blood relative, you can say. Anyway, you’ve got Spring Break and…”
“Mom, I have plans to hang out with Letty and Mary Anne and Joey and…”
“You listen to me, Ulrich Talmadge. Who’s paying your bills anyway? There’s a ticket waiting for you at the Trailways terminal. Bus leaves at three-fifteen. Gets in to Mulberry around nine. Just take an overnight bag. You won’t be there long. A guy from the Vets’ll meet you ’n’ drive you out there. Toss whatever. And look for any papers or stuff that’s worth anything.”
“Mom, listen.”
The line was already dead.
Shit.
Ulrich phoned Joey, his pal since they were kids. Joey offered to go along, “The girls will understand, Ully - family emergency and all that.”
Ully declined but promised to call if he needed help, saying, “It won’t be fun – and there’s probably a lot of dust your allergies won’t like.”
* * *
“You Ully? I’m Budja Burkett from the Vets.” Rangy. Cute though, like they said. Innocent face. Rest looks good.
“I’m Ulrich Talmadge,” the boy managed, his hand in a vise-tight grip.
“Yeah, Tom told us his niece had a son.” Surly.“Wished he’d ever laid eyes on you. Hop in. I’ll drive you to your great uncle’s place.” Kid’s got a chip on his shoulder or something.
Nondescript Mulberry’s main street – five blocks of neon-lit single-story shops, a church with a revival sign out front, and a filling station – were passing when Budja looked from the corner of his eye. His non-conversational passenger was tugging at his pants.
“There’s a restroom in here. I’ll get some gas. And you might want to pick up some food. Fruit or something. Don’t know what you might find at the cabin. Get enough to tide you over until tomorrow.”
Ully peed, washed up, bought an apple, a banana, a six-pack of RC Cola, and some cheese crackers in cellophane. Looked at the change. Scowled. Got back in Budja’s VW bug.
“Did you know Mom’s uncle?” he braved. “What was he like?”
“No, except for when he was in the hospital. Wasn’t in his right mind then. But, you know, we took care of him and the funeral. He was a Vet, so it was our duty.”
“But what was he like?”
Budja’s VW bumped from the roadway onto a bumpy clay surface leading in the same direction its headlights struck a series of tall, creosoted poles carrying a wire to the woods beyond. “That’s his power line. Wasn’t too odd a duck not to have electricity. But no land line ’phone.”
Scrunched down, Ully glanced at the night sky and mentally cursed his Mom for saddling him with a Spring Break that was anything but what he wanted. I won’t even be able to get ahold of Joey.
The cabin turned out not to be some log-thing with a shingle roof. No, a concrete block house, unpainted, half its front hidden by scraggly bushes and a few struggling pines. The door was streaky with bright red enamel that looked like it needed a second coat.
“This is it,” Buda said, handing his reluctant passenger a ring with dangling keys. “I’ll stop by tomorrow afternoon some time to check on you.” With a smile and a nod, he made it clear that Ully was to get out.
Seventeen-year-old Ulrich Talmadge watched as the Vet’s little car threw up red-lit dust on his way off. With a resigned sigh, he felt around for the lock, shoved the right key, turned the brass knob, and stepped into stale-air darkness more utter than outside. He groped for a light switch, found it, switched it on, and gawked.
The room was huge. Had a fireplace almost his height fronted by an overstuffed brown sofa and two matching chairs with ottomans, a braided oval rag rug in front. Off in the distance, a kitchen in the same space, a table with four chairs. Over there, a Jerry-rigged desk of two file cabinets and a full sheet of thick, raw plywood laid on them – topped by a fluorescent lamp, a computer, a printer, some open books strewn about. On the far wall, a grass-green door beckoned.
A small hallway opened on a bathroom between a bedroom to each side, one so small it had only a single bed, a chest of drawers, and a chair, the other with a king size bed, side tables, a flat screen TV larger than any he had ever seen. Many other things, clothes and towels, lay everywhere, disarrayed as his mom had said.
Jesus. What a mess the old fart was.
To complete his once-over of the place, Ully looked across the main room at another door, also green. Beside the kitchen’s refrigerator (which was running), it led to a screened porch built around the side and back of the house. Oddly, its surface was covered with Astroturf, like the football field at his school. Same green as those doors.The darkness was too great to take in details that daylight would reveal. Steps led to an obvious garage.
The other key.
Sure enough, and there was an old, dusty brown car and space on the other side for another. From the bare bulb overhead, there was light enough for Ully to see keys in the ignition. I’m not trapped here, thank god…if this damn thing runs. The name Bentley threw him. What’s that? Well, I can figure it out.
He washed down his banana with tap water, put his apple and sodas in the fridge, did brush his teeth, and thought about where to sleep.
The big bed, so I can watch TV, maybe catch some sports news.
Standing in his skivvies, Ully realized the chill in the air. There better be a thermostat in this place.
There was. It regulated the circulation of hot water through conduits in the cement floor. Did not produce an immediate result. Took a while. Ully fluffed a couple of pillows, got in the bed, pulled up the covers except for the naked arm with which he gathered several remotes. The first vibrated the mattress in sections and would raise and lower parts as shown. One was for the television, which he turned on.
What appeared on-screen was a blue background with a floating “DVD” on it. Puzzled, he found another remote with a PLAY button. The screen flickered.
To his wondering eyes there appeared a young man – a teen like himself only shorter – standing expectantly before a tall doctor who started examining him in the lewdest fashion. And the kid, soon stripped, was feeling up the doctor.
Ully stared, open-mouthed, at the doctor’s massive erection going in and out of his patient’s mouth. And the guy’s trying to smile! Jeeze, how can the kid do that?
His right hand was cold when it slid down to his own hot and hard sex. Not sure about his stomach’s queasy feeling, Ully manipulated himself as teens do. That is, until the doctor was entering the kid’s butt and working his huge way in and starting to fuck and then really was fucking hard as the goofy-eyed boy rocked back and forth like a doll.
That is when Ully hit PAUSE and took a few disturbed breaths, mind in turmoil. There was pre-cum on his cock and hand. It was getting on the sheet between him and the blanket and spread. All Ully could think to do was to look in the bedside cabinet’s drawer for a tissue. What his groping netted was – a dildo.
Springing like a jack-in-the-box, he sat up and looked. Dildos and plugs in various sizes and colors, lube tubes (KY he knew), and a half-empty lidless jar of Vaseline. Desperate for a tissue, he crawled from his covers to the far side’s cabinet and looked in its drawer.
Kleenex and…metal rings big enough to fit over…Oh my god…short leather straps, something like an athletic cup only made like a cage…that would fit…a pair of handcuffs and some wooden clothes-pins…clothes-pins?...more somewhat-squeezed tubes labeled with words he did not recognize, and four lengths of rope.
Dazed, he fell back and surrounded himself with bedding – for warmth and, as it were, for protection against what he had seen. He fumbled among the remote controls. Punched wildly at the first, which sent the bed into vibration mode. The TV remote eluded him, secreted as it was in a fold of the bedspread. Where was the other one? With the DVD remote, he stabbed PLAY and, by accident, the button which advanced to the DVD’s next track. What came on the screen completely took his breath away.
An old man was toying with the balls of a boy who was tied up, his legs pulled almost to his head and roped to a bar. One hand’s fingers had the boy’s balls bunched in their bag, the other was patting them and slapping them. But that stopped and the old guy ran a finger into the boy’s butt, reamed at it, then stuck in two. Turned them right and left, asking, “How do you like it?”
This is so queer!
Ully’s own butt felt funny. What’s wrong with me? Yet, his eyes would not leave the screen. He did not search for PAUSE. Instead, he used a tissue until he witnessed the well-roped boy smile as the old man pulled out a big cock and started to fuck him. Oozing ejaculation turned the tissue into soggy pulp and Ully’s ass clenched. Really crazy senses shook his body. I didn’t know I was cumming. Confused totally, he could have cried. Another awful scene broke on the screen.
Two guys in head-to-toe black were holding a man face down over a table while a machine was driving a big black dildo in and out of his butt. Ully could heard the machine running but there were no sounds of hurt from the victim.
Jumping from the bed, Ully opened the nearest closet. There, a robe of brocaded silk hung almost to the floor. Fancy Chinese pattern. He drew it on, feeling very peculiar at his appearance in the door’s full-length mirror, cock standing aligned against his stomach. Disregarding it, he saw on the floor that there were slippers, too – fleece-lined grass-green velvet with coats-of-arms on them. A perfect fit. Warm, too.
Through the chill air, he entered the kitchen area hoping to find some cocoa he could heat, or coffee or tea – or something to calm his shaking body. Bottles of wine were stored on their sides but other alcohols were upright – vodka, gin, light and dark rum, bourbon, scotch, tequila, brandy, cognac. No cocoa. Remembering kids spoke of drinking rum and coke, Ully thought of his RC – and rum. The dark stuff was about the same color.
Twenty minutes later, he had warmed considerably. The drink, once he got used to it, went well with his cheese and crackers. Mmm…I feel good.
A trifle unsteady on his feet, he found in another cabinet several coffees – brands he had never seen at home – and tea – four different, handwritten labels thé – from someplace in Paris. Soups, too, more or less standard in cans. Boxes of crackers and breakfast cereals – more brands he did not know. Cans of nuts. Packages of powdered mashed potatoes and “Survival Tabs.”
Incomprehension of the last brought his kitchen search to a timely end. Ully helped himself to another rum and RC which he took to the bedroom. The TV had a series of videos clipped together of different guys – some looking quite normal – fitting themselves with butt plugs. One held up a red jockstrap with a dildo mounted to it which he donned telling the camera, “I wear this every day at the office. Makes me feel good, knowing that nobody knows.” All smiles, he paraded around showing how he walked in it.
Ully cogitated about that, put down his drink, took off the robe, stepped from the slippers, looked at his hard-on, realized the floor even was warm to his feet, picked up the smallest plug, a pink one, eyed it closely, watched the next clip on the screen – a good looking man embracing a thuggish teem around the chest while shoving a dildo up his ass – and made up his mind. Took a long swig of his drink, leaned against the headboard’s pillows, parted his legs, touched his hole with a fingertip, dropped some spit on the plug, and aimed it woozily until an inch or so penetrated.
Hey, that ain’t bad.
The TV boy’s breathy voice called, “More. Give me more.”
Ully pushed. As soon as the wide part passed through and his butt muscle closed on the stem, he blinked – and began jerking off. The harder he whipped his six inches the better the plug felt.
“Goddammit!” he yelled, spurting recklessly here, there, and yon. What else was left to do but drift off into la-la-land?
Thirty or forty minutes later, he woke in a sweat. The room was hot. He dragged himself to the thermostat and moved the setting from eighty degrees to seventy-four. With a gulp, he finished the now dilute drink and went to get ice from the fridge. But why ice when there were plenty of RCs in there, cold?
Armed with another mix of dark rum with some RC in it and a can of peanuts, Ully wove an errant path back. He passed the TV screen. Blue again. Had a thought. Down went the refreshments, up came the remote with its EJECT button. Out came the DVD tray. He looked for another disk. Another one? Dozens were lined up in front of him. Titles included “Dildo Diversions, “Butt Busters,” “Gag the Fag” (Disgusting idea!), “Fury Fuckers,” “Back Alley Avengers,” “Rectal Recreations,” and…
It was hard for his eyes to focus on others. “Rectal Recreations” claimed attention. Made him think of what was still in his own ass. In my rectum. Alcoholically proud of himself, he was about to load the disk when he spotted “Ass Academy.” The title claimed precedence, so in it went. It loaded. He punched PLAY.
Nothing worried Ulrich Talmadge as he lay back and idled with one of the dildos as the movie opened.
A counselor’s office. In black letters “Miss Marwood.” Its door swung open on a woman, her hair in a bun, welcoming “Mr. Comstock, I see, and you must be Connor. Come in, please. I have your referral from the consultant at The Rectumry. Sit there, sir. Connor, you stand where I can see you.
“I understand that you will be sixteen tomorrow. Is that correct?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Why do you aspire to enter our Ass Academy?”
Mr. Comstock rallied to his hesitant son’s aid, “If I may, Miss Marwood, we are hoping that Connor will interest you. He’s – uh – untried. How do I say this? Untrammeled. I mean, he’s a virgin.”
“Mister Comstock, I did not address you.” She turned back to the quivering boy, “Connor, remove those offensive things that are obscuring my view. Honestly, how do you people think I can advise about what I cannot see?
Her attention shifted to the father, “Interminable. Badly designed garments such as his take so long to shed. Now, what is it you expect to get out of this boy’s possible acceptance here?”
“A good future. My friend’s friend J.Carter Springwell says your graduates are one-hundred percent placed all over the world – in Dahran, Scotland, Montevideo, Paris, Mexico City, Berlin, Kyoto, and I don’t know where else.”
Unimpressed by the Springwell name but on the verge of naming other placement locations, she saw the naked teen. “Ah,” she said, positioning herself directly in front of Connor. “Do not move. Your eyes are clear, your skin smooth. Let me see your mouth. Open wide. Uncoated tongue, teeth clean, good breath.”
The camera showed one hand fondling in front, the other behind the boy while she stared and he blinked, shaking more than before, but remaining obedient.
“Step back. Turn around. Bend over, hands on your knees. Hmm… You’ve never been fitted have you?”
“Miss?” the voice was heard to ask.
“Mr. Comstock. See that pink form on my desk? Read it and sign it, so that I can make decisions without needing to bother you.”
Without reading the document’s few lines granting full license over his son’s body, Comstock signed with a flourish, eager for Connor to pass this stage – whatever it was.
From his position across the bedroom, Ully watched openmouthed as the woman sternly inserted a black plug in young Connor, cinched something around his balls – a black strap like one in the cabin’s bedside drawer – clipped he-didn’t-know-what to each of the boy’s nipples, then began toying with his flaccid penis.
“This is a good sign,” Miss Marwood remarked to no one in particular. “Not one sound of protest.”
She picked up and slicked oil over a flesh-toned dildo similar to the one in drunken Ully’s hand. Took away Connor’s plug and went to work steering the object into the boy’s depths. He rose on tiptoes.
Video and bedroom realities in a haze, Ully tugged at his pink plug and replaced it in a single very surprising shove. His ball-busting reaction raised his whole midsection off the bed. Caught up in a maelstrom of self-fuck actions and feelings, he tore at himself and the bedclothes.
Hurt penetrating his ebbing orgasm, Ully dislodged the dildo and fought to find the remote that turned off the TV – just in time’s nick.
Miss Marwood held a wicked looking paddle in her hand.
Unconsciousness put Ully out of commission until the following morning.
Daylight’s rays made him aware of a terrible headache – the first hangover of his life – and of an urgent imperative to void his bladder. Hand on throbbing brow, he stumbled to the toilet, relieved himself, and headed for the kitchen, coffee on his mind.
Possessor of enough sense to look first in the refrigerator for milk which was not there, Ully dropped the idea of coffee. Two cans of Red Bull, the energy drink, appealed more than his own RC Colas. Grabbing one, he pulled its tab and guzzled. Floundering further, he found a bag of pretzels. And retired once more to the bedroom.
A few chugs later and a loud belch, his pounding head demanded attention. In the bathroom’s mirrored wall cabinet, there miraculously appeared something his mother took for her menopausal headaches, Tylenol 3. He swallowed four with the rest of his Red Bull and went back to sprawl. But not for long.
The Red Bull began to take effect, its caffeine, taurine, B-vitamins, and sugars helping to dissolve the overdose of Tylenol 3. Ully’s blood streamed these ingredients throughout his system with salutary effect. He began to take stock of himself, the flashy robe, last night’s plug and dildo, the other sex toys nearby – and blushed at what had come over him while drinking and viewing.
I’m hungry. He thanked his luck the fresh apple awaited in the fridge. Its crunchy texture and sweet juice proved to be what he needed. Munching while shaking his head occasionally, he began to wonder what else remained to be brought to light in that damn room.
Ensconced again, his pucker twitched to a finger’s touch. A little ashamed at how good it had felt to have that plug in him when he was drinking, he took a look at it – a long, thoughtful look – smeared some Vaseline on it, and stuck it back. Just to see…
Creeping into tumescence, his cock answered an unasked question. It was a lark for him to try some exercises from Phys Ed – sit-ups, deep knee bends, jumping jacks. Not one dislodged the plug. His cock remained bone-hard pointing due North at his navel. He liked it that way. Easy to secrete under his clothes at school when, at odd times, horniness came on. The more he moved with it in, the nicer he liked it.
What if….?
…There was a plug like his only, say, the next size up. Baby blue in color with a silver-looking button or something centered in its base. Ully, fairly sobered, thought: Nobody will know. Besides, he was curious: Maybe it’ll feel even better.
Using Vaseline and clenching his jaw with determination, he fitted it, nudged, and pushed until, with breathtaking suddenness and a burning aftermath, it popped through and reached that spot which rocketed feelings skyward. His balls screamed silently as Ully grabbed at himself with both hands. Cum lathered his palms. His voice cracked as it had not since he was thirteen.
As he lay there, frazzled, ass hurting, he smeared his hands not on the bed – on his chest and stomach. There echoed to him something from Phys Ed class: “No pain, no gain.”
The new plug would stay where it was, for his gain. With some pain.
Food. What could he eat for breakfast? Whatever it was, he found it, fixed it, ate it, farted around the blue plug, laughed when he remembered where it was, took a shower but didn’t take it out until he figured he ought to clean it with soap and did. Noticed his turgidity waned, that is until a coating of Johnson’s baby shampoo let him ease it – with a satisfying bloop – back where it had been.
Daring overcame reticence. Ully wanted to know how Miss Marwood intended to use that that paddle. A matter of two remotes – and there she was, paddle in hand. He flopped back on his pillows pushing by accident the SKIP button. The new scene – What the hell? – showed the boy harnessed in all manner of black straps, unable to defend himself against blows being rained on him, not by the paddle he had glimpsed for the second time but by a short, flexible whip.
So unnerving were the boy’s screams at the violence being done to his chest, stomach, exposed arms, thighs, and feet that Ully nearly missed Conner’s erection spewing when he was loudly accused, “Naughty boy! No control. The devil’s not welcome at Ass Academy, yet he’s in you and must be beaten out!”
“Miss, please,” he sobbed a word to each of her last merciless strokes, I can’t..take..any..more.”
She stopped, regarded the helpless mess of skin broken in a couple of places, red stripes all over, and shoved the discarded dildo instantly deep into him. “There! This will help you concentrate on your misdeeds while the rest of us are having supper. Nothing for you until we know that you are truly sorry for harboring the devil in your body.”
With a view of the horrible condition of the soles of his feet, the scene faded.
Repulsed, Ully might have been sick had there not come a knock on the cabin’s door. What? It came again. Glad to be diverted, he wrapped his naked teen body in the brocade robe and went see who was there.
That Budja guy, this early?
The fellow stood stalwart an inch or two taller than Ully, had shining chestnut hair cropped close, olive-hypnotic eyes, and a stretch of mouth from ear to ear. “Hi,” he said in the friendliest way, “I’m Tom Varga’s apprentice. Ted Firestone, by name. Budja Burkett told me you’re here. Ully, isn’t it? I’m glad to meet you,” and he stuck out his hand.
“Ully, yeah. Ulrich Talmadge,” he returned the handshake. “People called me Ully. Are you from the Vets?”
A slight frown preceded, “Why, no, not exactly but sorta. I told you, I’m Tom’s apprentice. Hey, you’re wearing his robe.” He laughed, “It sure doesn’t fit you. Can I come in? I’d like for us to talk.”
Baffled yet lacing any reason not to let Ted talk, he stood aside, keeping the robe around his nakedness.
Ted looked around, “More a mess than the last time I was here. See you found the remotes. Been watching anything interesting?”
He knows. Shit.
Both sets of eyes settled at the same instant on the unmade bed’s dildo and small plug. Ted turned slowly to face Ully, “Those are for beginners. Did you like them?”
He relished the flush of red rising up Ully’s neck, and reached to hug him. “It’s natural you’d try them, just like it’s natural that you’re naked under Tom’s robe and that” – his hand located the plug in Ully’s behind – “this would be where it is.”
Ted altered the hug to a full-frontal embrace before Ully could try to get away. “I don’t have to see which one this is. Bet you don’t know what its button does.”
Ully’s ass began buzzing. Almost out of his mind at the sensation, he clung to Ted, cock like a rock.
“Hey, buddy, you’re quick on the trigger! That’s great. Tom would’ve loved you.” He hoisted his arms’ load and placed him back to the bed. “You belong here while I work out a few of your kinks. I’m trained for this.”
The vibrator had Ully’s conscious attention. He tried to heed the assertive interloper’s, “Stay. Don’t move a muscle. Let the feeling take you over.”
Ted’s hands moved faster than Ully’s hands. “Oh no you don’t.” Two clicks later, Ully’s right hand was cuffed over his head to something he could not see; his left, seconds later. His pelvis writhed.
“Wimp! – giving in like that. Boy, you don’t know anything about postponing pleasure. Here, I’ll secure your balls before they betray you.”
A strap, like in that movie!
“God damn! What are you doing to me, you fuckin’ pervert?”
“You’re even cuter when you yell like that. No one can hear you – except me – and I like it. Turns me on.”
“Well, I don’t like it!”
Ted whispered, rubbing his captive’s balls, “Your cock says otherwise. By the way, I’m not a ‘fuckin’ pervert,’ I’m more normal than you are. And I certainly haven’t fucked you – yet.”
That sank in. Without realizing that he could have been kicking with his never-locked feet, Ully tried sarcasm while heating up from the massage to his balls, “What do you mean, normal?”
Ted’s push of the blue plug’s button a second time increased its vibrations. “It’s normal that your butt will like this even more, if you admit to it.” Delicately, the exposed underside of Ully’s cock received strokes of Ted’s fingernails. “It’s normal that an erect dick is better stimulated by the hand of another than by your own.” He let his hand stray around Ully’s cinched balls, drawing a near-orgasmic response. Nothing like the sound that escaped the boy’s mouth when Ted pulled out the plug, slid in two fingers and leaned over to nibble a nipple.
Ted wryly smiled as he abandoned the boy with the heaving chest and thrashing legs. “Watch me,” he told Ully. “Have you ever seen anything like to this body? The man Tom made of me?
Once he stood nude and splendid before the naked boy and displayed a shaft any teen might hope to have, Ully could not prevent his mouth from sagging open nor his legs from moving, bending at the knee and widening. A pillow that had fallen to the floor raised his backside prior to Ted’s position for what Ully could imagine would be his rape. Prophetically, he said nothing in protest.
Ted spat twice to his right palm and added the product to the juices already emerging from the red slit on the plumlike head of his cock. With that palm, he polished himself. Another deposit, allowed to fall from his mouth directly to the pulsing head, would lubricate entry into Ully’s unfucked body.
He lifted the boy’s legs, tightened his upper lip with intent, jockeyed through the starting gate, established his possession of the narrow rectum’s first few inches, then held his place while opening the handcuffs and saying in serious tones, “Your arms belong around my neck. Put then there. I will introduce you to what is always normal in this house. Look at my eyes. Ully, I now welcome you to the pure normality of men.”
A prepared line, rehearsed many times. Practiced a few.
His penetration was everything the dildo and plugs had not been. It swept away the hypocrisy of Ully’s upbringing and the foolishnesses of its received wisdom. The largeness of hardened flesh coming in, sliding slowly inch after inch, pressing here, pressuring there, prodding the coil, persuading compliance, possessing all.
To Ully, it seemed that his now-painless body clamored for more guidance from the cabin’s apprentice. Uncharacteristically, he said, “Fuck me.”
For Ted who, hitting his stride, rode Ully with matrimonial energy, the boy was his anyway. He beat his loins against Ully’s buttocks with gratification. Pleased groans matched his rhythm. Music to his ears.
“Look at me. I’m treating you to the best a boy like you needs to know. Your closed eyes were telling me it just feels so good you want to concentrate on the way my dick loves you. But, if you look up every now and then, your eyes will tell me thanks the way words can’t. If they don’t, I’ll know you want me to pull out and leave you alone. You want to be stranded?”
Ully, who could not think of speaking, applied such strength as his arms had to pull Ted’s head to his. Instinctual kisses were his to give – and he delivered them to lips and cheeks, and to lips again, to Ted’s chin, to his throat, and back to where an open mouth’s tongue waited to take its plunge into virgin territory.
This is what Joey was talking about us doing with Letty and Mary Anne! I’m doing it with a man. Joey’d shit a brick!
Long, languid strokes let Ully’s restless mind learn the dance steps of the tongue-tango, unbelievably erotic when being fucked to the fullest. Fucked into intoxication. Way better than rum-in-RC Cola’s narcotic effect, this drunkenness dulled no senses. It sharpened all. Ully was more alive than ever. Aware of body, aware of Ted.
Passion rose the gentler Ted treated him. Spasm took possession of his pelvis. On its own, it pushed up. The boy came for his first time with both apertures under control of another. What he felt, mouth and ass plugged with demanding organs, when the storm died down, was closeness.
“Normal and natural now, aren’t you glad? Ully, you’re going to be an asset to this cabin. I’ll let you take care of me when I’m carrying on Tom’s traditions with the other guys.” Ted’s voice smoldered while he continued to long-cock the boy. “They’ll be dropping by.”
Ully cleared his throat, swallowed hard, and ventured, “Ted, can we stretch out? I need to tell you something.”
They nestled, with Ted curious. He rubbed the boy’s belly with recently spilled cum.
“Mom wants to sell this place. She wants me to look for a will.”
“You’re in the right place – next to me, fucked by me, and the place where Tom’s will is.
“In the bed with us?”
Both laughed. Ted poked in a file drawer. “Here you are,” he said with a smug smile. “Better read it.” Quietly, “I know what it says.”
Nonplussed after a few moments of focus on the legal language, Ully’s eyes grew large. “He left everything to Theodore Firestone – that’s you!”
“The same.”
A pinched brow. Blinks meant confusion. “I don’t understand. The Vets…”
“Do you remember what Budja said to you at the bus stop?”
“Huh?”
“That Tom wished he’d ever laid eyes on you.”
“What did that mean?”
“Ully, forgive me for putting it this way. Your mom’s an airhead. A ditz. Her neglect let you grow into an undisciplined, ill-natured, poorly-educated, good-for-nothing. I’m getting to the point. Tom offered to assist with your up-bringing and did so financially until he found out she was already derailing herself before Vincent Talmadge, your scuzzball dad, left her.
“Tom offered to adopt you. She brushed him off. I came his way. He wanted a boy. Took me – although I was never formally adopted. I lived with him as much as with my own folks, but they understood I longed to be with him. He loved me as though I were his own. Everything we did together, I liked. Sex especially. We were a team.
“Tom always said anyone can be made sexy by training, but the best are that way by nature. I was a natural, same as you are. You know when I knew about you?”
“When?”
“It wasn’t when you had surrendered and were letting me have my way, it was when I was fucking the hell out of you and you pushed on my dick wanting more dick, harder. Without training, Ully, for a moment you showed spirit! So, you’re a natural – and it’s normal for you.”
Ted, who sat beside Ully while relating all this, gathered the boy in an embrace as tender as though he were a babe. He rocked him, kissed the top of his head, lifted his chin and kissed his soft, presently unmoving lips.
Ully’s ignorance of emotional expression melted. As he began to piece together Ted’s words with memories of his actions, Ully felt something else new – swoony teen admiration, the roots of could-be affection. Perhaps…sprigs of love.
His brain swam with feelings hardly understood. It managed a single thought: He had to give himself to Ted.Not right now.The clock showed eleven-thirty. Not quite lunchtime. Ted had entered his life only about two hours ago. So fast. Everything had happened, so fast. The more he tried to sort priorities, the more torment he experienced. He has happy, but his bottom was sore. Handcuffs had upset him but if not restrained he and Ted would not have coupled. Not to have been fucked by Ted – wonderful Ted who wanted him – would have been a loss. A tragedy. Ted might have thrown him out. Ted owned the cabin.
Wait. If Ted knew the cabin was his, why let Mom think she could sell it? Why get the bus ticket and have that Budja guy pick me up? Did Ted already know he wanted me? How could he do that?
Fingers caressed his hair. Ted asked, “A penny for your thoughts?”
Ully’s counter came, “Is that all they’re worth?”
“We’ll see what they’re worth. Put your clothes on. We’ll take the Bentley out for a spin and refuel at a place I know with a lunch counter, Pearl’s Food & Gas on the highway between Alexia and Hope.”
“I could use a break.”
“And when we get back, I’ll…”
“…Make love to me, Ted? Real love? Oh man…”
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