The Summer of 2004 Ch. 01

I momentarily put my fingers around the rock of his bicep. "Oh definitely," I instinctively uttered. I hoped that I, once again, wasn't revealing my inner desires. I just felt compelled to agree with--and touch--him.

"Hey, I know that my back is better now, but I still need ya around the yard. I gotta lotta shit to take care of here and I could use the help still."

"Yeah, I'm really glad to help out."

He looked at me non-descriptly and deadpanned, in a matter of fact way, "Yeah, I'll bet you are."

More thoughts raced through my tortured brain: "Now what did he mean by that? Shit, I had just gotten to a point where I figured that maybe he wasn't noticing my drooling over his ass or my hard-on, but now he makes a remark like that! Wait, I'm getting totally paranoid now, there's no need to be worried. He just meant he's sure that I'd like to work in this nice place, that's it. Who wouldn't? Now stop torturing yourself. I think so many years of silently lusting after guys is making me paranoid. Robert doesn't know shit. He has NO idea that I'm hungering for him. So get a grip of yourself, Mike."

"Well, I gotta head on outta here boot. I'll see ya tomorrow, 'kay guy?" he said as he sauntered up the hill and I made a point of not watching his ass.

"Sure, definitely," I responded. I'm certain my voice dropped to an almost baritone in my desperate attempt at countering anything bad he might have been thinking about me.

I went home and showered and had an unexplained, ferocious desire to explore myself using the shampoo conditioner as lube. I worked three fingers up my ass and started feeling around and pushing in and out, in and out, in and out. I squatted in the shower on my knees, my ass in the air, and imagined it was Lt. Robert Andrews behind me, plowing me but good. It hurt to have my fingers there. "What must a real cock feel like?"

I worked my hole and with my other hand yanked my crank. I blew a hefty load all over our new tiles and a bottle of Herbal Conditioner, just a second before I heard pounding on the door.

"Hurry the fuck up, Mike!" Jason, my 15 year-old, geek brother shouted.

"Wait your fucking turn, you know-nothing boot!"

"I gotta take a SHIT, asshole!"

"Okay, okay, hold on." I cleaned up the cum, toweled off, and wrapped my dad's ripped-off, NY Health Club towel around my waist, admiring my tight, built torso in the mirror, but thinking Robert's was better. When I opened the door, Jason said "About time!" and practically dove onto the toilet.

"This superior officer is clearing out. Carry on troops!" I spoke majestically as I saluted and strutted down the hall to my room: "Ten SHUN, Hut two three four, Hut two three four...."

"Um, yeah, you're not gay," I heard him call out to me before slamming the door. Fuck, does everyone think I'm gay?

It was still kind of early in the evening, but I wanted to turn in. When a stud like Lieutenant Andrews wrestles you to the ground, when you spend the day near that kind of raw masculinity, lying on your back on your bed with your hand in your crotch, reliving the day, every last moment of it, is just about the only evening activity worth partaking in.

I violently blew a load into a tissue, in three earth-shaking, spine-tingling convulsions, as I visualized myself smelling Robert, licking his sweaty balls. The soppy tissue I tossed under the bed. I fell to sleep and had such an intense, cock-dripping, twisted dream.

The lake had been drained and replaced with Robert's cum. I was lifeguarding when I had to dive in and save someone. While under the cum, it became me who got stuck. I was drowning, but I loved it. I drank as much cum as I could, my nose and lungs were taking in cum, cum and more hot, steaming cum. I was dying but I seemed to be the only one at the beach not complaining. My dad was yelling, trying to help. For the first time in my life I had a vision of my dad's cock. He opened his pants in front of a beach full of everyone I ever knew in my life, dropped his boxers, offered me his manhood. It was 20 feet long. He told me to grab on. I grabbed my father's cock, in front of everyone. He told me to suck it. I was reluctant. He pushed me down on it. My friends were horrified. I just kept sucking. I loved it!

Then I was back under the cum in the lake and felt strong, manly, aggressive hands on my shoulders, pulling me up from the seminal sea and placing me on my back. I felt the sun all over my semen-drenched body. My 7-inch pole was happily straight up. And someone was giving me mouth to mouth. It was my father! And it was Robert, too. It was my father and Robert at the same time, same body. Their lips met mine but were kissing me instead of blowing life into me.

My dad and Robert were covered in ejaculate, too. They told me they wanted me. I awoke the next morning with an enraged penis. I felt guilty for being so turned on at the thought of my dad's cock. I needed to beat that fantasy away from me. I savagely pounded my meat, thinking only of Robert--how could I have had such a sick dream about dad?--before getting ready and reporting for duty. I passed my dad in the hall. "Morning dad," I said as I hurried to Robert's.

To Be Continued...