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 Summer Calculus (mF/mM) by Rory Nisce c.  2013 rnisce2013@gmail.com

   This is a true story--only the names have been changed to protect
privacy.  It happened to me when I was a teenager growing up in the
Rockies. Please send me feedback to my email above.

   +++++++++++++++

   I was sixteen when the school year ended.  I hated high school.  The
tedium of growing up in a small town in the mountains, whose every waking
thought was consumed by basketball, football, and hunting was unbearable.
There was no Internet then, not even the BBS'es we would come to use a few
short years later.  The television had 3 channels, only 2 of which came in
well at all.  The radio had one station, and played only top 40 hits over
and over and over and over.  I read every book I could get my hands on,
finding the names of the great classics only when they were referred to in
the science fiction and fantasy books that were my stock-in-trade.  That's
how I came to read the Catcher in the Rye and The Iliad and The 1001
Arabian Nights before most of my peers had done watching all the episodes
of Gilligan's Island.  I even read science and math text books because I
was so hungry for input.  But overall it was like trying to breathe in a
room with no oxygen.  There was no one to talk to who cared about more than
keggers, parties, football, hunting, and cool cars.

   So I set on getting out as quickly as I could.  I resolved to take more
than the usual load of classes to graduate early and work very hard to get
grades good enough to get me into college somewhere far away where I could
drink knowledge deeply.  I worked every job I could get, most often for
less than minimum wage, just to scrape together enough money to go abroad
on an exchange program and discover the world.  That was when my sister,
who was working on her degree at the State University in the south of the
state, told me about a job to paint a house in her college town.  It paid
$300 dollars for a couple weeks' work, which was quite a lot to me then.

   I had bought myself a beater car the previous year, using money I had
saved up.  I packed all my things into the decrepit Ford Escort, manual
5-speed, and started the 5 hour drive through the heart of the Continental
Divide and into the watershed of the Yellowstone River where the college
town lay.  The highway winds through the peaks, along the shores of Swan
and Seeley Lakes, now shadowed by the immense pine trees, now bursting into
the sparkling sunlight of the waterside.  Spring had warmed early that
year, and the motorhomes, campers, and boaters that riddled the high
country in the summer had already begun to choke progress along the 2-lane
road to a crawl.  I was too timid to pass lines of lumbering vehicles on
winding, hilly roads were the contrast between full sunlight and deep
shadow could leave you blind for critical seconds in country where deer
were as thick as fleas and apt to bound across the road into your front
grill at any moment.  But the local teens were not so abashed.  Open jeeps
raced past me with jocks grinning with dark sunglasses on, and their
girlfriends in cut-off jeans and bikini tops hanging onto the roll bars and
letting their long, sun-bleached hair whip in the wind.

   Further down the road I caught up to them at the handful of gas stations
between my home town and the state capitol.  They lolled in the back seats
of the jeeps and pickups, soaking up the sun and chewing bubblegum and
laughing.  Loneliness pierced me through as I watched them.  Already
obsessed with sex, seeing such beautiful girls so near, so unreachable, was
torture.  And across the ensuing hours of the rest of the drive visions of
one of those lovely girls curling up next to me was a waking dream that
sustained me, and tormented me.  I suspect no woman ever experiences that
level of loneliness unless she reaches the age of 30 as a spinster, and
approaches the madness nearly every man knows intimately before the age of
18.  But even then the spinster, though what drives her madness is the
craving for companionship and love, can nearly always get sex, even empty
sex, by throwing herself at the men around her.  Young men never can
likewise; to throw yourself at a woman is to repel her.  To want a girl is
to be denied her.  To get a girl is to master the art of wanting her
without letting on, which is a subtle art that remains black magic to the
unsophisticated young.

   So, mad, desperate, bored, I reached my sister's place.  She showed me
my room, a sublet of a roommate's who had already gone for the summer;
finals had ended but graduation was in two weeks, and many of the students
went home for the interval.  The room was spare, but the bed was large and
had its own bathroom.  I had never had so much room to myself.  A cool
breeze soughed in through the curtains in the corner window.  Sunlight
lingered on the wall.  Jessie, my sister, kindly offered me a beer.  Her
boyfriend Doug, who lived with her in the house, loved beer and kept cases
of it.  I self-consciously declined.  Years of brainwashing in school with
horror movies about the dangers of drugs and alcohol had left me terrified
and uncertain.  Imbibing seemed a certain path to being a loser who would
never succeed in life.  Jessie shrugged, "Well, you're not under mom's
thumb anymore so you can have beer if you want to.  I won't tell."

   I shook my head, "No thanks.  Say, when do we start on the house?"

   "Well, it's Doug's grandmother's house, and she wants the whole thing a
certain shade of pink, so we have to take the paint samples down to Tru
Value tomorrow to have them mix up several cans of the right shade.  Doug's
going to try to rent a paint sprayer, too."

   "Great," I said, "just let me know when you're ready to go."

   The next day and for two weeks afterward we worked hard every day.  I
painted high, I painted low.  I trimmed windows and doors and did my best
with the drop cloths to keep pink paint spatters off the flowerbeds under
the eaves.  My white Ocean Pacifica t-shirt, inevitably collected pink
paint.  My jeans became covered in spatters that scraping with fingernails
and daubing with turpentine couldn't quite erase.  I was a little
embarrassed about it, but there wasn't much I could do because I didn't own
another pair of jeans and couldn't afford to buy more.

   Finally, though, we finished the job and collected our pay.  It was more
money at one time than I had ever had.  I promptly opened a bank account
and deposited it so I couldn't be robbed or lose it some other way.  Then,
for the first time in my life, I began to relax a little.  I kicked back in
the house and watched CNN and MTV for hours.  I borrowed Doug's ten-speed
to ride around the county on the back roads.  I had run cross-country in my
sophomore year and had gotten into good shape--my thighs were iron and my
chest was tight.  My jeans glided over firm muscle and I even had the
beginnings of abs.  So the bike riding was a way to keep it up, and also
explore the area without spending my hard-earned money on gas.

   I found myself gravitating toward the main campus, where a handful of
women students lingered in the student union or in the coffee shops.  I
discovered the main library, and fantisized about the floor after floor of
glorious books, but the sign at the entrance said "Students and faculty
only." Then I found a bulletin board outside the student union where a
flyer advertised summer classes in calculus.  I immediately tore off one of
the phone numbers with the course number, and went to find my sister back
at the house.  I had an idea.

   "Jessie," I said, "do you think I could take this class?"

   "No," she said, "you have to be a student and that means you have to be
accepted to the university, pay the tuition, et cetera."

   "Oh," I said, crestfallen.

   "But you could always borrow Doug's ID and audit the class.  They don't
check your picture, and you'll be able to get into the library to study and
into the classrooms where the class is held.  That way it's free, and
nobody will bother you."

   Hope surged in my heart.  I could stay, and learn, and hopefully start
to climb out of my intellectual isolation.  And maybe, maybe, I could meet
older women who would be interested in a guy with interests beyond sports
and music videos.  I had no idea, no idea, how right I was!

   In fact, the very next day was graduation, which meant sitting in the
hot sun of the bleachers of the football stadium while the graduates got
their diplomas.  My sister wasn't a senior yet, but many of her friends
were older and graduating and she was invited to all of their graduation
parties later.  She invited me to tag along.  Having spent years teaching
myself to despise parties as a defense mechanism against being excluded
from them, I found myself in a bit of a quandry.  Stay true to your
schtick, or roll with it?  I think the money in my bank account and new
plans of learning new knowledge settled me on the latter.

   Not a half hour after the last graduate had received her degree, my
sister and Doug took us to a backyard BBQ where two kegs of beer flowed
freely.  A stunning blonde, her hair pulled back into a ponytail, handed me
a red plastic cup full of foamy goodness and tapped my cup with hers. 
"Congratulations!!" she said, and gave me a hug.  Her firm breast, bouncing
under her thin t-shirt, pressed on my arm, and for a brief, glorious
moment, my face was in the crook of her neck and I smelled a perfume that
sent my head spinning.  The beer, too, tingled in my veins.

   "So, what did you get your degree in?" she asked.

   "Oh, no, I didn't graduate today," I lied, "I'm a freshman.  I'm
majoring in math."

   "Wow, I could have sworn you were a senior--you're so mature and
muscular" Her hand rubbed my belly under my shirt, her fingers lingered
over my abs.  The beer and the physical contact, the first I had ever had
from a woman, were making me delirious.

   "Nope," I said, feeling suddenly shy, and tongue-tied, and unsure what
to say next.  "What's your major?" I ventured.

   "Oh, accounting," she said, "at long last I'm done with school!  Time to
make money!!" She clinked my cup with hers again and flashed her lovely
smile.

   "Congratulations," I said, "what are you going to do to celebrate?"

   "Hmm, I think I'm going to drink a lot more of this wonderful beer and
then find some unsuspecting guy and have my way with him," she winked at me
slyly.

   Heat rose from my collar and mounted to my scalp.  "Oh my god you are so
blush-ing!" She laughed.  "C'mon, I promise I don't bite.  Much," she
teased.

   I blushed more furiously.  I was in a dream, a buzzing, dizzy, glorious
dream.  But, before things could develop further, she spied someone else
she knew on the other side of the party and bounded through the crowd to
hug her and squeal with delight.  I was left alone in the corner by the
hedge.  My hope, which had risen so spectacularly, was equally suddenly
dashed.  At my elbow, another voice spoke.

   "Girls, eh?"

   Turning, I saw another guy with dark curly hair and slightly swarthy,
Mediterranean skin, and a kindly smile.  He threw his arm around my
shoulders and chucked me on the chin with the fist that was holding his
beer.  He gestured in the wake of the blonde, "Jan's as flighty as a bird,
but when she alights on your branch, Oh Boy!" he chuckled.

   I said, "Wow, you've been with her?  Congratulations, what's your
secret?"

   He looked a bit puzzled, working out his reply, "You don't really need a
secret with Jan, so much.  If she decides on you, she pins you until you
pin her, if you know what I mean," he smirked.

   My blush, which had been fading, returned with a vengeance.

   "Boy you are easy, aren't you?" His eyes sparkled with mirth.  There was
almost something else there, too, but my mind dismissed it.  He was just
teasing me.

   "Sure would be nice if she were to pin me down, too," I sighed.  I took
a big gulp of my beer and felt the fire burn through my blood.

   He tousled my hair with his free hand and said, "Keep your chin up,
Scout, you never know what the future holds."

   Then he clicked his tongue, winked, and melted back into the crowd and
disappeared behind the puffs of smoke rising from the barbeque.

   A half hour later, two beers later, and I had nearly worked out a clever
line to try out with Jan when I next encountered her in the crowd.  Except,
she was nowhere to be seen.  She had gone.  My chance had flown.  I sighed.
Then Jessie materialized and said, "C'mon, we're on to party number two!"

   A fish out of water I had been at the first, at the second I felt like
an alien.  The crowd was much older, mostly graduate students, that my
sister had come to know through her internship in biology.  The women were
tastefully dressed.  Some of the men had moustaches and beards.  They
seemed ancient.  I felt 5.  They talked about arcane subject matter and
professors I had never heard of.  They talked about discoveries and
research.  It was language I wanted to understand, but could only make bits
and pieces out of.  It intensified my craving to learn.  And that crowd
drank wine and ate cheese, which was even stranger than beer from a keg. 
It felt too adult.  But I accepted a clear plastic cup with two fingers of
red wine anyway, and thanked the bearded guy wearing a jacket with elbow
patches who handed it to me.  I knew no one, and no one talked to me.  I
stood quietly in the corner and sipped the wine.

   The shadows lengthened.  The afternoon was drawing to a close.  Sunset
painted the tops of the hills gold in the distance.  Jessie found me again,
grabbed my hand, and said, "Now, party number 3!  I hope you like swimming,
because we're going to Chico Hot Springs!"

   Chico was a hour's drive away down country roads.  It was near twilight
by the time we pulled into the field north of the resort where the hot
springs was.  Jessie's friends here had set up another barbeque, and were
playing frisbee and throwing around a baseball.  Dogs and kids bounded
around the periphery.  My buzz from the beer and wine had abated a bit, so
I felt more in control and comfortable having more beer.  I had just gotten
one from the keg when a familiar arm snaked around my midriff and lingered
on my abs.  A perky chin perched on my shoulder and a chipper voice
whispered in my ear, "Howdy, handsome!" I blushed again, darnit.  It must
have glowed in the half-light because she giggled and said, "there's that
shy boy again!  Are you as shy when nobody else is around?" I glanced at
her and joked, somewhat emboldened, "Why don't we go someplace more private
and find out?"

   "Oooh, I like the way you think," she said, and took me by the hand. 
She nodded to Jessie and said, "Hey Jess, I'm gonna borrow your brother for
a while, OK?"

   Jessie raised her cup and said, "See you later, Little Brother!"

   I was so embarassed, I could have died.  Suddenly I had visions of
fumbling in the dark, and not knowing how to kiss, and her knowing for sure
I was a hapless virgin, and being disappointed, and laughing at me...

   "C'mon!" Jan said, and towed me out into the darkness toward the
hotsprings, whose steam rose in the cooling evening air.

   Chico is now, I have heard, built up and modern, with a clean, crisp
swimming pool and well-maintained buildings with rooms around it.  Then, it
was a pond lined with weeping willows whose branches overhung the banks and
created semi-curtained areas in the bubbling, steaming water.  In the dark,
from 5 feet away, you could not see someone in the water through the steam,
branches, and shadows.  Jan pulled me up short under a particularly
screening willow and started shucking her clothes.  She had a bikini on
underneath.  I froze.  I had no swimsuit underneath.  "I can't really go in
without a suit," I said, "but you go on ahead and swim.  I'll watch from
here."

   "Huh-uh," she rebuked me, clucking her tongue, "I didn't pull you out of
a party to have you watch me swim.  Haven't you ever gone skinny-dipping
before?"

   Skinny-dipping had never entered my mind, ever.  She may as well have
asked me if I had ever eaten chitlins or chugged white lightening.

   "Uhh, no," I said.

   "There's a first time for everything," she said, boldly grabbing the
front of my button-fly jeans and popping them open.  Before I could stop
her she had my pants down around my ankles and had stripped me of my shoes
and socks.  My toes squelched in the sodden ground under the tree.  Willow
leaves clung to my soles and the smooth, whiplike shapes of the fallen
willow branches curled under my tread.  My boxer shorts half hung off my
hips.  My fly had opened with the strange angle.  The night air felt cool
on my dick.  Jan started to reach for the inviting darkness within, but I
caught her hand.

   "What if someone sees me?" I asked.

   "They'll see a hot guy jumping into a steaming pond with moi" she
answered.  Then she planted her open palm square in my chest and shoved me
backward into the water.  Dark liquid filled my eyes, ears, and nose.  I
spluttered to the surface just in time to feel the explosion of her
cannonball next to me and hear her yell disappear.  As I struggled to get
my feet under me, hands tugged at my shorts beneath the water.  Before I
knew it, I was completely naked.  A hand cupped my package, and a brief nip
enveloped the head of my cock while a warm tongue slid along it in a long,
slow lick.

   The beer buzz and the heat of the hot spring had me feeling mellow, but
that sensation on my cock, half-hard all the time anyway, brought me to
full attention.  Her tongue ascended in a straight line all the way from my
pubic bone, past my navel, between my pecs, up under my throat, and curved
around the cleft in my chin and straight into my mouth.  Her teeth nipped
my lips.  All in one fluid motion that nearly had me right then and there.
She hooked her hands under my arms and behind my shoulders and hoisted
herself up onto me.  Curling her legs around my waist, she braced her heels
into the crooks of the backs of my knees and on the rise of my calves. 
Through wet and the heat of the water I could feel her short hairs, every
bit as curly and springy as their owner, brush against my abs; it sent my
head spinning.  A part of my consciousness broke away from the moment and
took a half step back to watch the incredible proceedings: I was naked,
drunk, in a hot springs far away from home, with a beautiful, older woman
who was about to take my virginity and fuck my brains out.  I popped a
virtual bowl of popcorn and sat down to watch, mesmerized.

   Once, twice, she dipped down to spear herself on me and missed the mark.
She chirped in frustration and fixed me with a very earnest look, "Do your
bit, soldier!" I gulped and flexed so I stood at full attention, felt her
soft, velvety lips take me inside, and she slid home.  She bit her lower
lip, smiled, and dove in for another torrid kiss, swirling her hips in a
probative motion.  I swayed in the water in reaction, back paddled with my
hands to maintain stability.

   Slowly she started to flex her whole body and hunch up and down on my
pole.  She went to the hilt every time.  The head of my penis kissed the
entrance to her cervix (or so the part of me observing surmised), and she
grunted and ground her clit into my pubic bone.  Our short hairs clung to
each other in the water, interlocking their tendrils to draw out the moment
of union before compelled to renewed separation.  A slight, dragging
stutter as they parted, a slight, passing tweak as they pulled at their
roots.  Delicious, delicious slippery sliding and guttural sensation
drowning everything beneath.  I was in ecstasy.  My head tilted back.  My
jaw hung open.  I panted hoarsely.  My head spun in glorious delirium. 
Clouds of steam from the water cloaked the whole world, even Jan, in
mystery and the only thing my eye perceived was a lone star far above,
somewhere in the Little Dipper, winking at me as though cheering me on.

   Jan licked and nibbled at my throat and collar bone, then used her hand
to force my head back upright for a kiss.  She smirked because she knew I
was her plaything.  And she demanded my full attention.  Hunching herself
up and down, faster, and faster, I marveled at her athleticism.  Her pussy
gripped my shaft rhythmically, as regular as a metronome.  She released one
hand and gripped my buttock for better leverage.  Her fingers curled into
an unrelenting claw that dug into my cleft and awakened new nerves I hadn't
known existed.  Though I hadn't thought it possible, my cock engorged even
more.  And her expert senses did not miss that cue.  Slowly, millimeter by
millimeter, they crept toward my hole until her nails grazed the entrance.
I moaned despite myself.  She grinned even wider and sucked my tongue into
her mouth as she inserted two fingers to the first knuckle.  I bucked like
a bronco at a championship rodeo.  The sensation of being penetrated while
penetrating blew my mind.  Tingling spread through my perineum to the root
of my cock and back again in a crazy circuit of electricity.  It blazed up
from the base of my spine to the back of my head and coursed through my
brain.  The curtains of hazy alcohol began to draw back and I came alive. I
gripped her hips in fervid hands and began pounding into her.  I was a
pillar of blazing need, desperate to erupt.  It became her turn to loll her
head back and moan uncontrollably.  With each up thrust I felt the force of
my push translate through her abdomen against my core.  With each down
thrust I felt the greedy clenching of her vagina.  Her feet began to shake.
The tremors climbed her legs, caused her knees to knock against my sides.
Her hands and arms became palsied.  Her breasts trembled.  Her head
thrashed from side to side and her moans mounted to shrieks.  Ragged
breathing built in crescendos.  Her pussy tightened like a vice.  Her
abdomen firmed.  She paused on the up, perched on her toes, and then her
pussy began to flutter and press spastically against my cock as she came in
a great gust of release.  She slammed all the way down and writhed on my
pole like something possessed.  Her vulva rounded my shaft.  Her pubic
mound ground into mine.  She jerked and clenched me with her whole body.  I
could not hold on, and erupted into her steamy depths.  A fountain of
white-hot cum shot into her.  My balls clenched over and over as it felt
like every other organ in my body was contributing strength to every spurt,
to make it fly higher, faster, deeper.  My anus gripped her fingers, which
had gone wild inside me with her climax and filled me with a heretofore
unguessed-at longing.  As she came down, she withdrew them and left an
emptiness.

   Spent, she kissed me languidly.  My momentary blaze had receded.  The
soporific effect of the alcohol, heat, and release began to win over.  My
softening cock slipped out of her with a slight pop and allowed her to sink
back to her feet.  Her arms slid from my shoulder and ass and circled my
waist.  She kissed me soulfully.

   "I was here 4 years and only just found you," she muttered, "and just
before I leave for my new job in California.  It's not fair."

   Her eyes were serious.  Her face glowed.  Her lips pursed.

   "I don't suppose you want to drop out of college and come with me?" she
inquired.

   "I have to finish my degree, but there's always breaks," I ventured,
lying to maintain my cover.

   She groaned, "Not good enough!  I could have this cock," she squeezed my
flaccid member, "every morning, noon, and night."

   My mind raced.  Maybe, maybe, maybe...No, it was absurd.  I was in high
school.  I had no college.  I had no money.  I could get nowhere without
any of them.  And the truth would come out, and she would feel misled.  And
I would have been misleading her.  It was impossible.

   "Sure," I said, "Whatever you want.  Let's do it."

   "That's my man," she said, and squeezed me hard.  "You know, suddenly
I'm ravenous.  Let's see if there are any of those ribs left back at the
BBQ."

   We hunted for our lost clothing the best we could in the dark and steam.
Neither of us found our underwear; both of us put our shorts back on and
went commando.  Hand in hand we walked back to the party.  People had
separated into clusters.  My sister's laugh trailed down from a bunch a
ways up the hill.  The red ends of cigarettes glowed and dark gray puffs of
smoke shot into the air.  A plate full of ribs lay unattended next to the
dying embers of the grill.  Jan picked one up with one hand and began
pulling great chunks off with her perfect white teeth.  She grinned at me
knowingly while I grabbed myself another beer from the keg, sitting on the
corner of a picnic table and swinging her leg.

   A man's voice in the background called, "Jan!  Come over here, Darlin'"

   Jan turned her head, squealed, "Erik!!" and plunged off into the
darkness.  I was left holding the keg pump limply in my hand, the cup of
beer paused in mid-sip.  Night had swallowed her.  I had no idea where she
had gone.  Wandering around peripatetically, peering into the gloom, I
spent the better part of an hour looking for her.  No clue.  Behind me, my
sister's voice called out kindly, "Rory, let's roll!  Time to go home." I
was in the middle of nowhere.  I knew no one.  I had no car.  I did not
know Jan's number.  But I could not miss my ride.  Reluctantly, I returned
to my sister.

   As we climbed into the car, she asked me if I had had a good swim, a
knowing tone in her voice.  I mumbled some reply, grateful my furious blush
was invisible in the night.  She laughed and we drove off.  As we pulled
out of the cluster of cars, we passed a large pickup whose engine idled and
headlights lit up the brush in th e field.  I caught a brief glimpse of
Jan's long blond hair, her head angled to the side as she made out
passionately with an anonymous man, Erik, presumably.  A stab of jealousy
and hurt pierced my heart--I had been forgotten so quickly.  Then the guy's
comment from earlier in day returned to me, "...as flighty as a bird, but
when she alights on your branch, Oh Boy!" and I began to feel better.  I
was no longer a virgin, and it had happened in the most memorable way that
I was sure I would never forget for the rest of my life.

   ==============

   The afterglow of my tryst stayed with me the next couple of weeks. 
Calculus class started, and I loved it.  I felt calm, happy, relaxed.  I
felt like a man.  I felt like a man on the make.  Everything was coming
together.  I'd go to class, check into the library afterward to do the
problem sets and then branch out from there to learn more.  I'd go for long
rides on the bike on the country roads in the late afternoon, and enjoy the
dry heat and cool shade of summer in the Rockies.  I borrowed my sister's
roommate's fly rod and did some fishing in the excellent trout streams out
there.  Caught a few.  Enjoyed life.

   Then, little by little, the hunger that Jan had awoken in my returned.
Soon, it swelled into a raging need, and I was back in the desperate
loneliness of my virginal youth.  There was no Internet porn in those days,
and I was too young and too embarrassed to buy Penthouse magazines at the
one adult store in town.  My sister had cable, but they didn't have Cinemax
(or Skin-emax, as chuckling friends who had it at home called it), and even
if they had I would not have been able to watch it freely in the common
living room of the house.  So I resorted to sifting through the vast
collection of books in the University's main library for something,
anything, resembling erotica or porn.

   They did have the Joy of Sex in the card catalog, but it was constantly
checked out.  Reading about human reproduction in the Encyclopedia
Britannica was cold comfort, even for an imaginative teen-ager.  Harlequin
novels were to be had, but they sat on shelves right out in the open near a
busy seating area--no way to sneak them out to a back aisle or bathroom
stall in the basement.  Then I discovered they had a small section on LGBT
themes that was tucked out of the way in an upper floor: Aha!  I could go
there and read about lesbians.  Paydirt.  They had a Lesbian Joy of Sex
sitting on the shelf.  Boy, I mined that for weeks.  Eventually though, it
grew stale and I combed the other books for something, anything.  Most of
them were about gay rights and other political stuff I had no interest in.
But then I chanced upon the back copies of Advocate magazine and began to
get curious.  I thought of Jan's fingers wiggling in my ass, the wonderful
sensations that had unlocked, and my fantasies began to travel in an
unexpected direction.

   I would go home, lie on my bed, and imagine forbidden pleasures. 
Somehow they fired me more than the graphically illustrated compendium of
lesbian lovemaking.  I could not believe it.  Over and over again I was in
the arms of another man, doing things I had been raised to believe were
wrong, and yet filled me with an ineffable craving.  I was too much a
coward to act on it, though, and there were no gay men in that entire swath
of country, and even if there were I could never go through with it.  No,
fantasy was where it would all stay.

   Funny how life has a way of surprising you.

   Not three days later I was back in the library, tromping up to the upper
floor and that inviting pile of magazines, waiting to feast my eyes on two
men embracing each other naked under a barely concealing sheet.  Yikes!  A
quick glance around the end of the row brought me up short.  There was a
guy standing right in front of the very section I was headed for.  No one
else had ever been there, for weeks.  Now, his back to me, he was thumbing
through a book or magazine.  Curious, scared, I began to make my way toward
him, holding up a slip of scratch paper and pretending to be looking for a
particular call number on the opposite side.

   After a few minutes, I was only a foot away from him.  Glancing over my
shoulder, I could see he was reading an issue of Advocate.  I didn't dare
look at his face, but his build was solid, his pecs firm.  He wore a light
flannel shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, the unbuttoned front
revealing a white t-shirt underneath.  Lower, the jeans hugged his firm ass
and solid thighs.  He was fit.  I checked him out for several minutes
before he sensed my presence and glanced up at me.  Our eyes met, and the
shock of recognition caught us both.  It was the curly-haired guy from the
first graduation picnic.

   He smiled and said, "Are you waiting for these magazines?"

   Blushing, I mumbled something like, "Well I'm not in a hurry, I can
wait."

   "They're pretty old," he said, "I like to read them occasionally, but I
have much newer issues back at my apartment."

   Not picking up on the hint, I said, "Oh, cool."

   "You could come over and check them out, if you want," he said, leading
me further.

   "Oh, sure, that would be good," I replied, my timid brain racing to find
some way to run away and hide for a year in embarrassment at being
discovered.

   "How about now?  Do you have time?  I just finished work and have no
plans for the rest of the afternoon.  It would be nice to have a bit of
company, actually."

   His tone was so warm, his smile so kind, his manner so gentle, his eyes
so inviting, that I merely nodded.

   "Great, well why don't you follow me.  My pickup's in the A parking lot
outside."

   "Uh, I only rode a bike here," I said lamely.

   "No problem," he chuckled, "we can throw it in the back."

   All my objections answered, I followed him numbly while his perfect
figure led the way outside.  I think I could have walked over a bed of hot
coals and past snapping crocodiles on the way out the building and I would
not have noticed.  Outside, I somehow got my fingers to work to unlock my
bike in the rack, and roll it after him to his pickup, a beaten up old blue
Dodge.  He took the bike from me and effortlessly swung it into the back on
his side.  Unlocking the door, he helped me in.  The seat covers were
lacerated from generations of tools stuffed into back pockets.  Stuffing
peaked out.  Strings of vinyl caught on the rivets in my jeans as I slid
toward the door.  It was hot in the cab, sitting in the sun as it had been
all afternoon.  It smelled like oil, dust, and ancient acrid tobacco.  The
ashtray was open, and dead cigarette butts stuffed it full.  A tattered map
to the county lay on the dashboard, rumpled because it had been folded up
wrong.

   He saw me looking at it, and said, "Yeah, I keep that thing around
because I like to fish in the back country.  Easy to get lost on the old
logging roads without that thing."

   "Do you like to fish?" he said, looking at me.

   I blushed, and nodded my head.  "When I can," I said.

   "We should go out some time," he offered, patting my knee, "I know some
good streams where massive trout hang out under overhangs.  Really good
fighters, too."

   "Sure, that would be great," I said lamely, and tried to keep from
making direct eye contact.

   "It's a deal," he said, and fired up the engine.  It turned over with a
comforting rumble and soon we were moving along.  I could not have told you
a thing about where he took me.  I tried hard to focus on the rear-view
mirror, cracks in the dashboard, the feel of the rubber floor mats under my
sneakers.  My fingers played with the ragged edges of the rips in the seat,
or fiddled with the chrome handle of the triangular side window.

   "Do you mind if I smoke?" he asked.

   I shook my head.

   "Care for one?" he asked, holding out his pack of camels.

   "No thanks," I said, "I run cross-country, so..."

   "Good for you, man," he approved.  "Me, I just love the flavor of these
things, even though they're bad for you."

   He lit up the cigarette, and out of the corner of my eye I was riveted
by the way his strong lips held the shaft of the cigarette and the way his
cheeks drew in and out as he smoked.  Ringlets of smoke rose and curled
through the ringlets of his curly dark brown hair.  His skin was swarthy,
like no one I had ever known before.  Its tone was even and inviting.

   "Here we are," he said, as he braked the truck alongside a curb.  It
snapped me out of my reverie.  We climbed out of the truck and he retrieved
my bike from the bed and said we could park it inside the house.

   It was a little, single-storied place with blue siding.  The porch had
white trim.  A couple ragged bushes screened the front and sides.  He led
the way with my bike, pulling open the squeaking screen door and gesturing
to me to hold it while he unlocked the door.  A moment, and we were inside.
My eyes adjusted to the gloom.  Old-fashioned window shades glowed manila
in the background.  Old, worn, 70's era furniture furnished the living
room. A bigscreen TV with VCR, surrounded by stacked tapes, dominated one
corner.

   "That's my one extravagance," he said, noticing my gaze.

   He propped my bike up against the wall, closed the front door, and said,
"Sit down and make yourself comfortable.  Want a beer?" He said the last
over his shoulder as he walked out of sight into a kitchen.  Unseen, a
fridge door opened, a couple bottles clinked, and the door shut again.  The
sound of two bottle caps being pried off came to me.  I looked around some
more.  The room was a bit rumpled, but mostly clean.  Far more than most
men I knew, myself included.  A spare dining room table lay in an adjacent
room, with two mis-matched chairs around it.  The nearer one had a broken
spindle in the back.  Both had varnish that had mostly worn away,
especially in the seats.  A picture of an old cowboy style coffeepot hung
on the laminate on the wall.  A crude coffee table lay before my knees, an
ashtray stuffed with cigarette butts on it.  The couch I was sitting on had
springs that had all but surrendered.  I sank deep into it.  I had to splay
my legs to keep from tipping over to either side.

   He sauntered back into view with two bottles of Michelobe in one hand
and a lit Camel in the other.  He extended his fist to me, offering me a
bottle.  I took it.  He set his down on the corner of the table, and with
cigarette clenched in his teeth opened the door on the left that led to
what I presumed was his bedroom.  A drawer opened and shut, and he
re-emerged with a handful of Advocate magazines.  He set them down on the
table next to my knee and plopped down next to me.  His bulk and the sad
shape of the sofa drew me into him slightly.  The edge of my thigh bumped
into his.  My side rolled into his.  I leaned the other way to reassert
equilibrium, and he chuckled.  "Sorry, this old sofa is too soft.  But I
have such a soft spot for it.  It was my grandma's."

   "I don't mind," I said, "we have one a lot like it at home."

   "You know," he said, looking at me, "We haven't actually been
introduced. My name's Costa."

   He held out his hand and I shook it self-consciously.  "Rory," I said.

   "It's great to meet you, Rory," he smiled, "Welcome to my humble home.
Mi casa es su casa."

   "Thanks," I said, and took a giant swig of my beer.  I was nervous to be
caught drinking while under 21.  I was nervous about being in Costa's
house. I was nervous, nervous, nervous.  I drank again.  And again.  Again.
It was gone.

   "Whoa," Costa said, "You must have been thirsty.  Or you really like
beer.  Hold on, be right back." He jumped up and ran into the kitchen.  He
returned with two six packs and a bottle opener and set them on the table
in front of us.  Once more, he flopped down next to me, and once more I
rolled into him though I tried to avoid it.  He smiled, put his arm around
my shoulders, and helped us both scoot until we sat side by side rather
than on top of another.  He ceremoniously opened another beer, handed it to
me, clinked the neck of his bottle on mine, and said "bottoms up!"
Something about the way he did it and winked slightly while he did so
suggested those words had a second meaning.

   He grabbed an issue off the top of the stack and propped it open between
our adjacent knees.

   "This is a solid issue.  It's got a great section on the best exercises
to build kick-ass abs."

   He thumbed through it with his left hand while he held the cig in the
corner of his mouth and held the other side on my knee with his right hand.
The tips of his fingers curled around the edge of the magazine and I could
swear caressed my knee a bit.  A glossy spread with a really handsome blond
guy in mid-situp opened.  His abs were so sharp they looked chisled.

   "Wow," I admitted, "he really does have great abs.  They always fake
these kinds of shots, though, don't they?"

   "Nah, not this one.  They really work.  I've been doing them for a
couple weeks.  Check it out!"

   He pulled up his white t-shirt to reveal abs that were shaping up
nicely. He took my left hand in his right and placed it on his stomach. 
The hard, hard muscle banding under my hand was hot and hypnotic.  "No
airbrushing there, eh?" he chuckled.

   Strange feelings struggled within me.  I was a man.  I was supposed to
me manly.  I liked girls.  I craved their vaginas and breasts.  I
fantasized about having sex with them all the time, for as long as I could
remember.  I wanted to cleave to a woman and possess her.  But
this...this...this was arousing me.  Craving deep in my belly began to
grow. A deep ache I couldn't site or name.  My cock was not growing hard.
There was no ache in my balls.  But I wanted to...just...be near him.

   He grinned at me, feeling his abs, and said, "Let's see if these
exercises could help you too." He pulled up my t-shirt and nodded.  "Not
bad, but a couple weeks doing these situps with me and you'll be in the
major leagues, man."

   I must have blushed furiously, because he chuckled again and let my
shirt drop.

   "Hey, I have an idea," he said, "Feel like watching a dirty movie?"

   I was stunned and didn't know what to say.  "Uh, sure, I guess," I said.

   He stood up and rifled through his tapes.  Picking one, he said, "This
one's not bad." He popped it in and turned the TV on.

   Soon, scenes of one guy making out with a blonde on a farm came on. 
They were in a hay loft, a blanket spread over some bales.  The woman
dropped her panties and spread her legs for the guy's rigid cock.  A cheesy
porn beat came on as he started to thrust into her.  Then, the camera
panned to the right a bit to reveal another cowboy peeping tom.  Slowly, he
rose and closed in on the action.

   As we watched, my cock lay limp in my jeans.  I was too self-conscious,
I think, for it to respond as it usually always did.

   Then, as the other cowboy closed in, the scene became a threesome.  The
two men tag-teamed the girl while she squealed in delight.  Just after she
came, her breasts heaving, a voice in the background called, "Nellie May,
it's time to come in and help with supper!"

   "Oh!" the girl cried, "that's my ma!  I got to go!" And she sprang up
and pulled on her knickers as she ran out the door.

   The two cowboys remained, crestfallen, because they hadn't come yet.

   "Damn her," the first guy said, "she left before I could get mine."

   "Well," the second guy said, a sly look in his eye, "you still could. 
Just us two.  I won't tell and nobody will know."

   The first guy shook his head smiling, "Damn if that ain't the damnedest
thing I ever heard...well I'm so horny I could do anything."

   The second guy nodded and turned around in the bale of hay and stuck his
ass in the air.  "Give it to me easy, buckaroo."

   The first guy slowly, deliberately worked his cock into his ass and in
no time was pounding away like a champ.

   As I watched, I was surprised to notice my cock was rock hard inside my
jeans.  I was further surprised to feel Costa's fingers tracing along its
length and periodically squeezing it.  Then he put his right arm around my
shoulders and drew me in, leaving his left hand to do the work of working
me up.  His voice hummed in my ear, "Hot, isn't it?"

   I nodded rapidly.  Costa's tongue flitted out and burrowed into my ear.
An electric shock flashed through me.  I jumped a bit.  His right hand
curled down over my shoulder, snaked through the collar of my shirt, and
started caressing my nipple.  I moaned slightly.

   Costa took that as a major green light and turned me toward him.  As
quick as a flash his lips were on mine and his tongue working its way in.
The tip invaded my mouth so expertly it left me breathless.  I couldn't
believe how turned on I was.  We made out for minutes and minutes, his
fingers on my nipples and his fist stroking my dick through my jeans. 
Then, his left hand grew impatient with the obstructive denim and
unbuttoned my fly like it had been doing that all its life.  My underwear,
whose elastic band had been constricting me, magically went away and his
hot, calloused hand was all over my package.  His fingers dug in under my
balls and lifted them to the light of day.  My cock stood up like the
leaning tower of Pisa.  In one heartbeat his mouth vanished from mine and
reappeared enveloping the head of my penis.  His tongue laved the underside
all the way to the base and back up again.  Its tip danced around my
frenum. I gasped with the sudden pleasure.  Onscreen, the two cowboys had
changed to a missionary position and were making out like old-fashioned
lovers.

   The room spun around me as Costa worked my dick, bringing me to the
brink over and over again but pulling me back from the plunge each time.  I
grew crazed.  "Oh, man, I need you to fuck me.  I need you to fuck me.  I
want you to fuck me.  Please fuck me."

   He sat up, grinned, and pulled me to my feet.  My pants sagging down
over my hips, my breathing uneven, he half pushed, half pulled me toward
his bedroom.  A full-zized mattress lay in the gloom.  Its cover was neatly
made.  Costa grabbed one corner and flung it back, exposing crisp sheets.
In one motion, he pulled my pants and underwear to the ground, pulled my
t-shirt over my head, and pushed me face first onto the mattress.  I
bounced on it a bit while my feet, shoes, and jeans lifted off the floor.
He shucked them in a second, and a brief rustling later I felt his hot,
hairy chest bearing down on my back.  There was a coolness, a breathe of
air as he positioned his body over mine, and then an incredibly hot, hard
rod pressing into my ass crack.  Lubricated by sweat, he ran it up and down
and side to side, awakening all the nerves along it and stoking the deep,
inner hunger inside me into a raging desire.  I wanted him inside me.  I
had never wanted anything inside me, but I wanted him inside me now.

   He curled his hand under my shoulder and began kissing the back of my
neck and licking my ear lobes.  The tip of his tongue invaded my ear and
sent more jolts of electricity through me.  His firm pecks and hard nipples
pressed against my back.  His pubes, wooly and plentiful, brushed the small
of my back and my buttocks and made me squirm.  Then, with all his weight
on one hand, he reached off the bed with the other, fishing around for
something.  A squeak and small pop, the sound of squirting, and I felt his
fingers play around my asshole, spreading something slick and cool on me.
Tips of his fingers worked their way inside my sphincter, and the
electricity that I had felt when Jan did that returned.  My hips raised
involuntarily, and he chuckled.

   "Yeah, man," he said throatily, "You want it bad, don't you?"

   I nodded, "Yes, man, please, I need you to fuck me."

   "Ask my nicely, and I may," he said, teasing me.

   "Please man please man please man fuck me I need your cock inside me"

   "You got it, man, here it comes."

   I felt a pressure at my asshole, then a surrender and his hard, hot,
thick cock plunged into me.  It felt so deliciously big and host and dirty.
I felt like a slut.  I was disgusted with myself.  I felt unbelievably
naughty.  The tingling pleasure building as he thrust his pole into my ass
dwarfed what I had experienced with Jan and immediately chased every other
thought out of my head.  My entire universe had focused like a laser on
that cock in my ass.  All I wanted to do was savor ever millimeter, every
movement, every sensation.  My ass and hips took on a life of their own as
I begged him to thrust into me.  I rocked and bucked and pushed back and
began to whimper with desire.

   Grunting, he slowly withdrew his cock until just the head remained
inside me, and then plunged in all the way to the hilt.  His pubes crushed
up against my hyper-sensitive asshole and his meaty balls slapped against
my perineum, where they clung and shifted against me.  I moaned so
gutterally that I was afraid the neighbors might hear me and call the cops.
Or the media.  Again he drew out and speared me suddenly.  My buttocks
slapped and I cried with pleasure.  His cockhead inside me, pressing
against my prostate, had me muttering gibberish.  Again and again and again
he began to work up a rhythm that sent waves of sensation, building
sensation, rolling through me.  Suddenly, a tingling started in my fingers
and toes and worked inward to my ass and crotch.  A clenching began in my
gut and I came with the most earth-shattering orgasm I had ever
experienced. My cock, which had gone flaccid under the anal assault, spewed
cum in every direction, buckets of cum.  I groaned and moaned and shook
while Costa grunted and thrust and tongued my ear.

   "Do you like that baby?  Do you like that baby?  Do you dig that man?"
he grunted in my ear.

   "Oh god, oh god, oh god oh god yes" I answered in pants.

   "Good, baby, because I'm turning you over now to face the music." And he
did just that, swiveling me on his penis until I was on my back, legs up in
the air, and he driving his pole between my spread legs.  I could see his
cock plunging into me on the up stroke.  His lats flexed and his pecs
gathered and his triceps hardened as he worked me inside and out.  My head
rolled from side to side while my mouth hung open and visceral moans were
forced from me.  He lay down in the middle and frenched me fiercely while
his hips hunched and pounded my ass.  His tongue seemed to reach right down
into my throat while his cock drove up in my ass and for a second I
wondered if the tip of his tongue might touch the tip of his cock inside me
and turn me like on a spit over a fire.

   Again the wave of electricity overcame me and I came again, this time
the clenching in my ass and balls bringing forth no sperm, it being so
recently, so gloriously depleted.  But what I lacked in fluids I made up
for in vocalization.  My god I moaned and moaned.

   Suddenly, Costa picked up his pace.  His desire had overwhelmed his self
control, and he slammed himself into me one last time, moaning, while his
fat cockhead spumed liquid fire into my ass.  I wanted him so much.  I
wanted to be possessed by him.  I wanted to be his, to have him fuck me
without end.  I would give anything to have him fuck me all day and all
night.

   As his orgasm subsided, he pressed himself into me to drain off the last
spurts.  His matted pubes felt curiously sponge-like against my ass.  His
balls lay sated on my buttocks.  He kissed me and whispered sweet little
nothings, about how sweet my asshole was, how he loved the feeling of my
orgasm, clenching around his shaft and milking his balls.  He hugged me
tightly and kissed me with tenderness I didn't know a man was capable of.
And I dunno, something in me really responded to that.  I kissed his chin,
his cheeks, his nose, his ears, his eyelids.  I whispered how much I wanted
him to fuck me and fuck me and that no one but him would ever fuck me again
and that I was his to use anytime, anywhere.  I nuzzled his neck and
caressed the rippling muscles on his back.  I cupped his asscheek with my
hands as he slowly ground his spent rod into me, before pulling his limp
member out of my chute.  Hot cum erupted from my asshole and dribbled down
my crack, and I felt a sense of completion I had never known before.  I
pulled him into a full body hug and clung to him, kissing his neck.

   We lay like that for hours, into the evening, kissing and caressing and
whispering.  He took me several times more, each time pounding me to an
earth-shattering anal orgasm.  I was limp and incapable of biking home by
the time I reckoned I should get back.  I asked him to give me a ride back,
and he did, but I asked him to let me out at the corner so my sister
wouldn't see, and walked the bike the rest of the way home.  As he pulled
away I winked at him in the darkness and gave him a little wave, but was
too chicken to do more for fear of the neighbors seeing.

   My sister and boyfriend had already turned in, so nobody saw me sneak
back in.  That night I lay in the darkness and relived the day's events
over again.  It had been an amazing beginning to the summer and a new
chapter in my life as a sexual being, and I relished the next time and the
next time to come after that, for they surely would.  And they did.