Chapter 8
Tim shivered in the cold. He beat his arms repeatedly to keep the circulation going, but it didn't help. His teeth chattered and he knew he could never make it all the way to his mother's cabin, which was at least three miles or better distant. If he couldn't get a ride, he wouldn't press his luck hooting any farther than the first service station he encountered.
He had left the highway only once, when Johnny and Ken drove slowly past, the truck's headlights probing along the roadside. Hiding in the snow-covered brush beside the road until they passed out of sight, his pants and feet had become damp and cold.
Now he hiked at a rapid pace, trying to close the gap between himself and the small village of Copper Mountain. Whenever traffic approached from behind, he turned and extended a thumb, but it was far too chilly to stop and work the helpless pose.
Luck was with him. An older sedan full of teenagers from a nearby town were headed for Copper Mountain to attend a basketball game. Tim eagerly jumped inside the warm car, joining two other youths in the front seat. He vigorously rubbed his hands together over the heater vent.
"You crazy, man?" asked the thin, freckle-faced driver. "Hell, you'd have frozen your balls off in another ten minutes if we hadn't picked you up." He shook his head forlornly as the other teenagers in the car nodded in agreement. The car smelled strongly of grass. "Where's your coat?" The question came from the back seat, along with an extended joint.
Tim took the joint and took a long drag between his chattering teeth. Savoring the smoke, he gradually unwound and felt better all over. "Long story," he said finally. "Had some trouble down the road and lost my bag."
"Get ripped off?"
"Yeah. You might say that. More ways than one." He turned, surveying the innocent faces around him. "You guys going all the way into town?"
The kid beside him in the middle of the front seat nodded. "Heading for the high-school gym. Where you bound for?"
"Cabin on Tamarack Road. Third of the way up to the ski lifts."
The two youths up front exchanged glances, nodded, then turned to seek agreement with their friends in back. "Guess we've got time to run you up there," the driver said.
Tim took another turn at the joint, inhaling deeply.
"Yeah," came a voice from the back seat. "They roll up the sidewalks early in this berg. Too fucking cold to walk."
The street address his mother had sent him a few months earlier was a vaguely familiar, but the cabin in front of him was new. It had been almost a year since his last visit to the resort town and then she had lived in an apartment building two doors away. Although the little A-frame before him seemed half-buried in a snow bank, the steady stream of smoke emitting from the pipe chimney told him there was warmth and, hopefully, hospitality waiting for him inside.
Tim lifted the iron knocker and let it fall three times against the heavy cedar door. Trembling with cold, his brain turned itself inside out trying to prepare itself, to come up with an acceptable story of why he was suddenly at his mother's doorstep, improperly clothed at that. The door opened.
"Well, come in. We've been expecting you."
Tim's half-frozen face turned from off-blue to ashen-white. The stranger at the door, a young man in his late teens or early twenties with shoulderlength, straight blond hair, was expecting him?
"Where's your bag? And your coat? For God's sake, get in here before we all freeze."
Tim shuffled inside the small entry. From around the corner came a familiar voice. "Dennis, is that Tim?"
An instant later, clad in a terrycloth robe, Irma Harding slid into the hallway. Tim noted that she hadn't changed; there was the inevitable cocktail glass in her hand. Just as before, she rattled the ice in it as she walked.
Tim had never known his mother to really walk, like most women. She had a way of announcing her presence by a kind of slithering, snakelike movement of her hips. His father had often complained that she was doing a poor imitation of Mae West. As for the constant swirling and rattling of the ice cubes, that, too, was a ploy to get attention.
Tim beamed and hurried to his mother. He gave her a peck and stepped quickly back. "How did you know I was coming?" he asked anxiously.
Irma Harding sighed. "Your father called long distance. Rather angry, to say the least. We had quite a chat."
She gave her son a peck on the forehead, took a nervous swig from her bourbon and water, then turned to the other youth by the door. She wriggled her wrist impatiently for the blond young man to come closer.
"Tim, this is Dennis. He's a ski instructor and boards here."
Tim nodded and shook the youth's hand. His mother had always introduced her lovers that way; they were boarders -- just business relationships. This one was different. He was younger. The two youth's eyes locked and Tim liked what he saw. Dennis' blue eyes sparkled back at him like a clear mountain lake -- deep, mysterious. The skier had a tawny, clear complexion, a cleanly chiseled nose, and pretty white teeth that gleamed when he smiled.
His mother's boarder was not at all like the succession of ski buffs who had lived and slept with her before -- all the previous lovers had shuck him as hard, coolly professional types, often swarthy and more often lacking in character. This Dennis, by contrast, was, in every sense of the word a typical healthy, boy-next-door type. He didn't fit.
Irma Harding escorted her son into the living room. Tim immediately headed for the fireplace in the corner. It was one of those Danish modem jobs, small but filled with snapping, fragrant dry pine and the blaze quickly warmed the teenager.
"Dennis, don't just stand there. Give Tim one of your sweaters before he catches pneumonia." She turned to Tim, nervously swirling the ice in her drink. "Where's your duffel and clothes?"
"It got ripped off couple of fast dudes that picked me up."
Irma's eyebrows peaked in a worried frown.
Tim waved his hand. "Forget it. It's okay, I tell you."
"You're frozen. I'd better fix you some hot mocha."
Irma headed for the kitchen. "It appears you don't need to. You're picking up bad habits of your own."
"Like what?" Tim asked smartly.
His mother paused in the kitchen doorway and wiggled a stern finger in his direction. "Like skipping school in mid-week to go skiing -- or whatever!" She disappeared into the kitchen.
Tim sighed and shook his head. "I didn't come up here to go skiing!"
"I can't hear you! Wait until I get your drink fixed."
Dennis ambled back into the room and tossed Tim a handsome turtleneck sweater with a Scandinavian motif. "Here you are, kid. Problem with these A-frames they're hotter than hell in the loft and like a deep freeze down here."
"You sleep in the loft?" Tim asked bluntly.
Dennis gave the teenager a measured smile. "We've got two bedrooms down here. The loft's reserved for parties and guests. Tonight it's all yours."
"What's your last name?"
"Johnston," replied the older youth as he went to stir up the fire.
Tim watched his every move, fascinated. The young ski instructor's flaxen hair sparkled in the light of the flickering fire. Tim wondered how old he was, but it really didn't matter; Dennis was a beautiful specimen of maturing manhood. Though he wore a pullover sweater and wide-striped ski pants, Tim could tell he had the body of a Greek God -- tight, well-proportioned muscles, a smooth stomach, and firm, strong legs. He knew a hot skier had to have good legs. And the tight, stretched ski pants served to emphasize, not hide, a well-contoured ass whose perfect round cheeks flexed and tightened as he moved.
Dennis seemed to know he was being watched. He basked in the flattery. Looking up quickly from the fire, he caught Tim staring at him, the teenager's eyes sparkling and his mouth slightly open. The older youth winked.
Tim tossed on the heavy ski sweater and at last stopped shivering. He suddenly felt good all over. This Dennis intrigued him, but he figured it was a hopeless cause; he was, after all, getting it on with his mother! He wondered what her clutch on him might be. Shelter? No, it had to be more than that.
A car? Maybe. More probably cash to hit all the ski meets -- travel from Copper Mountain to Aspen, to Vermont, maybe even to Europe. They all added up to a pretty penny. For several long seconds Tim continued to stare at Dennis, fascinated, totally intrigued by the long-haired, handsome youth.
Dennis looked up with an enigmatic smile, considering the new houseguest. His eyes sparkled but betrayed no commitment.
"Planning on hitting the slope tomorrow?" he asked, climbing to his feet.
"Hadn't planned that far ahead, I guess. Well, sure. As long as I'm up here might as well. School can wait."
Dennis shuffled across the room, brushing close, tantalizingly close to Tim as he passed. The teenager felt a strong urge to reach out with his hand and touch the wide, masculine stripe on the blond youth's ski pants as he passed, but he bit the impulse back. But then, surprising the teenager, a warm, firm hand fell on his shoulder from behind and rested there briefly.
"Tell you what, Tim. I've got a ski class in the morning, but I'm free after lunch. I'll take you up to Gravy Chute."
Tim looked up, grinning. "Great! Plenty of bumps?"
Dennis' deep-blue eyes were bearing down on him. He slapped his hands together and nodded. "Sure! All you can handle -- if you don't mind a sore ass!"
Tim laughed. "Sore ass? You kidding? Where I come from, it's a way of life!"
He had said it, but already he regretted the remark. His new friend was gazing at him curiously, one eyebrow arched higher than the other.
Dennis said nothing but retreated to an overstuffed chair in one corner. He threw his legs over the arm and gazed back at Tim for several seconds, slowly shaking his head.
Tim nervously pretended to take in the decor of the room, but his eyes quickly found their way back to Dennis.
"What the fuck's wrong?" he asked nervously.
"Nothing," the good-looking blond replied, almost too softly for Tim to hear. "You're beautiful. That's all. Just Goddamn beautiful." His voice prudently trailed off to nothingness as Irma Harding waltzed into the room carrying a mug of mocha.
"This may not grow hair on your chest, but it'll at least thaw you out," she said happily.
Tim took the hot drink and smiled.
Irma raised her own glass of bourbon. "Here's cheers," she announced, a bit too profoundly. She tipped her glass up all the way, at the same time her eyes quickly darted from Dennis to her son. There was strange electricity in the air and she felt the vibrations. She swallowed the bourbon. No, it couldn't be! Her imagination was overheated, the booze, perhaps. She quickly put her fears away and sat down across from Tim.
The teenager rapidly crossed his legs. Totally swept up by his mother's handsome young suitor -- or whatever his role -- his cock had started to nervously pulse in his thin jeans. He rested his hands nervously in the center of his lap, hiding the slight bulge.
"So why did you leave home?" Irma asked almost coldly.
"What did Sam say?"
"Must you call your father Sam?" she asked imperiously.
Tim shrugged and looked away, pouting. "He's been beating me again," he said softly. "I'm not going to take any more of it."
Irma Harding looked perplexed. "Beating you?"
"Yes! That's all he does any more to get his jollies!"
She smiled knowingly. "Tim, that's exactly what your father said you would say. He claims you have an overwrought imagination and lie constantly to overcompensate for it."
"That's not true!"
"He said you would come up with an excuse to get out of school and come up here to ski."
"Do you believe that?" There was bitterness in the teenager's question.
"We're both a little distressed."
"He's the one who's lying! I ran away!"
Irma's eyebrows shot up perceptibly. "But why? Because Sam reprimands you when you refuse to obey?"
Tim's face grew beet red. "He doesn't reprimand! He's sick. He kicks the shit out of me, dammit! And other thin..."
Irma nodded quickly, cutting him off. "He also said you've been swearing constantly, too. And there's the problem of your grades slipping. Let's see, what else?"
"God almighty, whose side you on, anyway? I come up here in big trouble and you start on me just like the old man! I need help, can't you see?"
"Like what kind, Timothy?" Her bourbon dulled eyes tried to focus on him. "Financial? Tutoring? Clothing? Or a soft shoulder to cry on?" She shrugged and sighed. "I guess that's what a mother is really for."
Dennis Johnston frowned, idly scratched his balls, and climbed to his feet. "Uh, if it's okay with you two, I think I'll kick back. This family rapping isn't any of my business. Besides, I've got an early class in the morning."
Irma caught him by the sleeve. "Be a doll and refill my drink before you go?"
"You've had enough," he said bluntly. Taking the glass from her, he placed it on the coffee table and shuffled towards the hallway.
Tim watched Dennis depart, fascinated by the way the yellow-striped ski pants with their tight elastic fabric showed off the contours of his cock as he walked.
Halting in the doorway, Dennis turned, winked at Irma, then turned to Tim and stared for what seemed an eternity at the teenager. "Good night," he finally said, disappearing down the hallway.
Irma Harding shrugged. "Now where were we?"
Her tongue was a little thick. "Your problem, as you called it."
Tim looked at his mother askance. "You sleeping with Dennis?"
The flat, outright query caught her by surprise. Her face turned an off pink. "Your father forgot to mention, among the other things, your brassiness!"
Tim pushed harder. "Well?"
Irma fussed with her robe and started out of the room. "You still have a vivid imagination." Her eyebrows furrowed as she played with a curl on her forehead. "Entirely too vivid. We've both had a busy day and I've got to work tomorrow. We'll talk at breakfast." There was finality in her tone.
Tim shrugged and stared into the fire. "You still working as a waitress?"
"No. I sell lift tickets up on the slope."
"Well, you needn't sound so bored. I can at least get you a free ticket skiing. That's more than I could do slinging hash!"
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean, that is... Wow! I guess I'm bushed, too."
"There are clean sheets and towels up in the loft." She pointed superfluously to the steep stairway that might easily pass for a ladder. "Good night, Tim."
"You don't believe me, do you?" he asked in desperation. "He's a sadist, I tell you!"
"I said we'd talk about it tomorrow! Turn out the lights when you're through." She turned and padded down the hall.
Tim stood in front of the fireplace for several minutes, staring vacantly at the diminishing flames and pine logs as they turned to cinder. Then he slowly turned and headed for the john. Once inside, he closed the door and studied himself in the mirror. There were obviously two bathrooms in the cabin, for he heard a toilet flush from off in the direction of his mother's bedroom.
The image in the glass aged him. He looked haggard, dirty; his T-shirt and jeans were soiled and rumpled. A hot shower, he decided, couldn't wait until morning. It would do him good to languor under running hot water. No! Wait. A bath was what he needed. He had forgotten his abused asshole. A comfortable tub where he could park his sore ass in hot water would be bliss!
After sudsing down and rinsing himself off, Tim remained in the tub for a good ten minutes, luxuriating in the soothing warm water. He had nodded off several times and was almost asleep when he saw, through the frosted-glass tub enclosure, the bathroom door slowly open and close. A figure had slipped quietly into the room and now appeared to be hovering over the sink.
"Tim?" the voice was soft, tentative.
"Yeah?"
"Shhh! Not so loud. If you don't mind, I forgot to brush my teeth." Dennis voice had an urgent, nervous tone.
The hesitant voice and the blurred image behind the glass provoked. Tim's curiosity. He suddenly felt challenged. From somewhere deep inside of him emerged a compelling desire to expose himself, to flaunt what little he had to offer and let the cards fall where they may. He would try to be subtle, but...? Tim pushed the sliding-glass partition all the way open, shook the wet hair out of his eyes, and looked up inquiringly.
Dennis was standing there in a pair of white Jockey shorts, his long blond hair falling over his tawny brown, muscular shoulders. When he heard the glass door over the tub quietly glide back, he put the toothbrush down, grabbed a towel and turned. His intense blue eyes consumed Tim for what seemed an eternity. He didn't utter a word as he gaped into the tub, his eyes exploring Tim's nudity. Finally aware of his own intense staring, he swallowed hard and wiped his face with the towel.
Tim, too, had remained silent, his own focus darting from Dennis' shy but absorbed eyes to the enticing bulge at the front of his Jockey shorts. Even as he briefly glanced up and down at the blond youth's body, he saw the revealing white basket twitch slightly and start to swell. Tim slid his ass farther back in the tub and felt his own cock tremble with pleasure.
Dennis wanted to say something, but it was as if he had been caught speechless in the teenager's trap. But he knew full well it was a trap of his own making. Grinning sheepishly, he shrugged and inched backward towards the door. He was about to excuse himself when Tim brought up a dripping-wet hand, arched his long forefinger against his thumb, and flicked bath water into Dennis' face.
The older youth beamed. His eyes once more took in Tim's nudity, this time focusing on the water between his legs.
Tim glanced down and saw that the round head of his cock was poking up and down out of the water like a nervous frog. He looked back up at Dennis, searching the good-looking, well-built blond's eyes for a sign. What was he waiting for? Dammit, anyway, what kind of green light did he want?
Tim brought both knees up to his chin, folded his arms across them, and sighed. "Come on in if you want. The water's fine."
Dennis breathed a quick sigh of relief, turned, and locked the bathroom door. He gave Tim an awkward but eager grin and promptly shoved a thumb in each side of his Jockey shorts. As they fell to his knees, Tim blinked his eyes and swallowed hard for there, beneath the dark tan line and thick forest of pubic hair was a long, gangly prick with a big, perfectly proportioned oval head. It rose slowly before the teenager's eyes, swaying like a curious cobra. Dennis had big, ponderous balls, too, and Tim wondered about their power to pop off tons of cum.
Wordlessly, the older youth brushed his long hair back over his shoulders and climbed into the tub facing Tim. Very slowly, his intense eyes locked on the teenager's, he slid all the way into the water, his legs and knees brushing tantalizingly against Tim's hips until their wet, slippery bodies were locked together. The tickling, electric pleasure was total, all-consuming, and both youths trembled all over under the wild sensation. Tim pushed his crotch and genitals harder and harder into the other youth's. Dennis responded by wiggling his ass closer to him yet. Their balls danced against each other.
Dennis' hands were suddenly everywhere -- caressing Tim, tracing the clean, beautiful lines of his face, feeling the round firmness of his buttocks, and fondling his excited cock and balls.
Tim was pleased. He liked Dennis' intense but sensitive manner. He was wild but in no way did he indicate a need to bruise, slap, pinch or humiliate. Tim began to respond with wild, uninhibited abandon, wrapping himself around the nude ski instructor, licking his ears, his neck, gently mouthing the firm nipples on his chest, and finally kissing him full on his warm mouth. His heart pounded. His entire body was on fire.
"Easy, easy," Dennis whispered softly. "Plenty of time, but hold down the noise." He, too, was hot and eager to really get it on, to be as wild in the tub as they could, but he fought back the urge, remembering where he was and who was sleeping just yards away. "Shhh!" he pleaded.
Before Tim could turn over, Dennis pushed him back facing him and scooted his rump back against the teenager's. Their balls hit together. Dennis quickly grabbed their two pricks, held them tightly together, and started jacking them off underwater.
The water sloshed noisily back and forth between their entwined legs; both of their foreheads became glistening with sweat as Dennis beat their cocks faster. Tim gazed at Dennis' face, just inches away. His lips were slightly parted, the saliva-coated tip of his tongue just visible. The teenager's breath came in short, anxious gasps. His head was tilted slightly to one side and his eyes bore in on Dennis with a hot, pleading look.
The blond ski instructor stared back; his face, too, bore the same rapt, intense, wildly satisfied and expectant look. His eyes, too, were fixed and intent.
They came together, lips, tongues, and hot saliva engulfing each other's mouths. Their flailing, throbbing cocks simultaneously exploded underwater, sending great pulsating squirts of cum to the surface. The warm jizz spread quickly in a white slick, polluting the tub and coating their bodies.
It took a long time for the hot, lusting youth to pull away from each other and longer yet for them to clean off the residue of sticky jizz that clung to their bodies like rubber cement.
Tim wanted desperately to talk. There was much he wanted to say to Dennis, but the older youth kept whispering, gesturing for total silence. The thought of his mother discovering them together did frighten Tim, but not nearly as much as letting this beautiful young man and beautiful experience slip away from, him -- to disappear as easily as he had been found. There were things he wanted to say! Something more was needed. An understanding, perhaps, to be consummated?
Dennis tossed Tim a towel, quickly retrieved his shorts, and placed one hand on the door lock. With the other, he carefully traced his fingers over Tim's eyes, nose and lips. "Jesus! You're beautiful, kid. We'll talk tomorrow. On the slopes. You hot on skis?"
The teenager hunched his shoulders and grinned. "I get around all right. Haven't been up since last year."
"It comes back fast." He winked, tossed his long locks back over his shoulders, and opened the door. He started into the hallway but suddenly halted, frozen in his tracks.
Tim looked beyond his companion into the dark hallway. He saw his mother leaning against the wall, her eyes methodically surveying them. He quickly back stepped and wrapped himself in a towel.
She said nothing, ignoring her son and glaring at Dennis with fiery, indignant eyes. Her fingers, clenched in anger, thrust repeatedly in and out of the big pockets of her bathrobe.
Dennis stammered. "Irma, I..." He had started to apologize, but realizing the emptiness of the gesture, closed his mouth. Nervously, he slid slowly past her and down the hallway, increasing his pace to a near trot as he disappeared into the far bedroom.
"Go to bed, Tim." The cold voice of authority bit of venom. She neither expected nor seemed to want an explanation. Her face framed with contempt, she sighed heavily and went back into her room. The door closed rapidly behind her and locked with a decisive click.
The teenager stood alone, staring down at himself, hypnotized by the cabin's sudden, enveloping silence. Gathering up his clothes under his arm, he trudged wearily out of the bathroom and headed for the ladder leading to the loft.
He slept only fitfully, tossing back and forth on the clean, slightly fragrant sheets his mother had carefully made up for him. The loft was warm. Once he had wakened from the recurring nightmare of being bound and beaten by his father, but now the dream was a strange conversation, an argumentative telephone call between his parents. No! It wasn't a dream. The banter was real. He was wide awake!
A narrow stream of light shone across the far living-room wall and ceiling above the fireplace. The brightness came from the kitchen. It was his mother's voice and she had raised it slightly to be heard on a long-distance connection. But it was muffled and Tim couldn't make out the words. He slid quietly out of bed. Without dressing, he lowered his nude body down the steep, ladder like stairs and edged along the wall nearest the kitchen. The downstairs had grown chill and he stood there shivering, trying to keep his chattering teeth from betraying him. But he could hear the words now. She was talking with his father, Sam Harding!
"I don't care what you do, he can't stay here through Saturday. And I can't afford to fly him home!"
Silence.
"How you punish him is your business, not mine. He's in your custody, Sam, for Chrissakes! What? No, I haven't been on the bottle!"
More silence. A long, heavy silence. Tim sadly lowered his head.
"All right! But it'll take you seven hours at least to drive up here. Make damned sure you're here by the time I get off work tomorrow."
"You hear me, Sam? All right! Good night."
Big tears began to well up in Tim's eyes. He heard the telephone being replaced on the hook, then the kitchen light went out. He held perfectly still and pressed tight against the wall, not daring to move. There were the soft sounds of his mother padding down the hall, her bedroom door closing; then all was deathly quiet again.
Discouraged, totally deflated, he hurried back to the ladder, climbed to the loft, and fell, spread-eagled, across the bed. He stared at the dark, high-vaulted ceiling for a long time, considering his frightening predicament and his lack of options. He felt lost and afraid, abandoned by all that was good in the world! But was there anything good, anything worthwhile? His fingers slid back and forth on the inside of his thighs; restlessly, they fondled his balls and cock. Then he rubbed his chest and shoulders, finally stretching his arms and legs like a cat. He sighed wearily. There was nothing for him here; he wasn't wanted. Even remaining through tomorrow would result in his being thrown right back into his father's sadistic bondage!
Then his thoughts went back to Dennis and his mind was swimming again. He rolled over and buried his head in the pillow. Beautiful, handsome, athletic Dennis -- the grooviest dude to have come into his life -- appeared to have commitments of his own. Commitments that hit too close to home! Repeatedly, he struck the bedsheets with his fists. The loft was warm and he lay there nude, staring into the dark, considering, mulling over the events of the past day. The memories flashed quickly through his mind, still vivid, still fresh -- the temporary, feverish excitement, the danger, the pain, and now, the nothingness of afterwards.
Suddenly a smooth firm hand stroked the back of his neck, slid down his shoulder, and worked its way slowly to the base of his spine. Then a lithe, trim body slid on top of him, strong masculine hips resting on his buttocks and a long, stiff cock probing between his ass-cheeks. The body smelled clean and fresh. Firm hands grasped his trembling fingers, held them tight, and pushed his arms to the corner of the bed; a warm chest nuzzled against his back and long blond hair fell across his ears and cheeks. It was as if he were in a dream. No! He was awake.
"God, you feel good all over," Dennis said softly.
Tim shuddered with pleasure, completely forgetting his sore asshole. It didn't matter any more. He wanted Dennis too badly. He wanted the older youth to master him, to fuck him.
"Is it safe?" Tim whispered nervously.
"So what if it isn't?" said Dennis boldly. "Who cares any more? I don't. Do you?"
"You heard the phone call?" asked Tim.
"Yeah. The bitch. Let's not talk about it, okay? I need you, man. I needed you from the minute you walked in off the fucking street."
Dennis folded his strong arms around Tim and nuzzled his head close to the teenager's ear. "I've got to fuck you, babe. Oh, shit, I've got to fuck you good."
Tim wanted to tell him about his sore asshole, the bad scenes from earlier in the day, but a stronger impulse told him to hold his silence, to go along with Dennis, do anything he wanted.
"God, what a beautiful body," the older youth said, grinding his hips into Tim's firm, youthful flesh. He rubbed the hard nipples on his chest slowly back and forth across his companion's smooth back, at the same time letting his long soft hair brush teasingly over Tim's sensitive neck and ears.
"Wow," Tim whimpered. "I think I need you, too. Shit, I don't know how to say it, but I want your hot cock way up inside me, then I want you to screw me harder than you've ever fucked anyone before. Anyone else -- okay?"
"How hard?"
"Hell, I don't know. I just want to see if you can give a rough fuck."
"With you, I'll try anything."
Dennis' cock was throbbing, its big oval head tingling and dripping with excitement as it slid slowly, repeatedly back and forth between Tim's firm boyish ass-cheeks. The older youth sat back on his haunches and admired Tim's dim outline in the darkness for a full minute. Then, spitting in his palm, he smeared the thick saliva all over the crown of his cock and down along the slightly curved shaft all the way to its base. He wiped his hand across Tim's rump, then bent forward, hair in his face like some wild animal, and arched his hips for the initial thrust.
Tim bit his lip. From the corner of his eye he saw Dennis take in a gulp of air, then lunge towards him, jabbing his ponderous prick directly at his bung-hole with frightening accuracy. The head of his cock plunged painfully past the pinched outer folds and with a soft, oozing noise burrowed itself deep inside his ass. Farther and farther up it slid until the very base of the shaft was buried in Tim's shitter. Dennis big balls slammed into Tim's.
The older youth left his big tool in all the way, hesitating, feeling the exciting warmth of Tim's beautiful body grip and tighten around him. He dug the viselike feeling; it was like being a living part of the teenager.
"Oh, God, Dennis," Tim groaned, running his hands back and forth along the older youth's strong hips. "Let me have it good."
"I'm going to, baby. Jesus, I'm going to ride your ass wild! I belong in there, baby!" His cock did indeed feel like it was tailor-made for Tim's tight, succulent asshole.
Dennis slowly withdrew his cock about four inches, his entire body tensing to the sensation. Then he gasped and slammed his hips and legs forward until his big balls slapped against Tim's upturned rump. Like a pulsating piston, he began to fuck in earnest, in and out, his huge prick tickling all over in euphoric pleasure. His blue eyes opened and closed with passion as he felt Tim's clutching tight asshole sucking, squeezing, and pulling on his deeply inserted cock.
Tim groaned softly. "Ohhhh. Keep fucking, man. I could let you do this all night long." The bed creaked noisily, but the teenager ignored it. Tim's arms started thrashing back and forth and his hips writhed. "Fuck me harder! Fuck, fuck, fuck!" he repeated in hoarse whispery gasps.
Both youths began moaning in unison.
Suddenly Dennis was swept up in wild, uncontrolled passion. His hands clawing furiously at Tim's body, he pulled the youth up into a kneeling position, then lunged forward savagely, his stiff, angry prick plunging home and lifting the teenager off the bed. Groaning deliriously, he began fucking back and forth as hard as he could, slamming harder and harder into Tim's raised rump. Both youths were gasping for air and dripping with sweat; the bed shook violently and their balls danced together with each wild, plunging stroke as Dennis fucked harder and harder.
Tim wanted to cry out for Dennis to stop, but he knew the cry would wake the neighbors, let alone his mother. The thought was stupid and he put it away; far from wanting Dennis to stop, he wanted more of his prick! He hunched his butt farther into the air, wiggling sideways and undulating his buns, pushing his body farther back into Dennis' strong, relentless hips. He wanted to feel every last inch of the handsome blond's cock and all of his savage, wildly thrashing body.
The big cock rammed into Tim's butt-hole harder and harder; Dennis' hands were unyielding, too, clawing, grabbing fiercely at his waist and pulling the youth back and forth. Again and again the ski instructor had brought himself to the threshold of climax, until suddenly, abruptly, his body trembled and he could hold out no longer. Frantically, he shoved his prick into Tim's asshole as far as it would reach.
"Ohhh. Shhiit!"
The youth cried out softly as the first massive charge of cum shot into his ass. Load after load of thick white jizz gushed from Dennis' spewing cock.
"Take it," Dennis groaned. "Take it all!"
Tim felt his own orgasm coming on like an express train. He tried to catch it with his hand but he was too late; the stickiness of his own jism covered his chest, his stomach, and the sheets beneath him.
Dennis held Tim tighter, their entwined bodies trembling like the last leaves of autumn. Finally, with one final shudder, he pumped the last stream of sperm into the youth's butt. Very slowly he withdrew his shrinking meat from Tim's asshole, feeling the warm stickiness of his own cum oozing back out of the shitter, trickle over his balls and drip down his leg. The cock slipped out of the hole with a hollow, sucking sound.
Tim rolled to one side of the soiled sheets and looked up inquiringly into Dennis' eyes. "I don't understand," he said finally, after staring at his new friend for almost half a minute.
The blond ski instructor stretched, smiled, and wrapped his strong arms around Tim, embracing him tightly. "Don't understand what?" He rubbed the side of his cheek against the teenager's tousled hair.
"Never mind," the youth said, reconsidering. "I'll tell you later."
Arm in arm, they lay there and rested for a long time without saying a word to each other. It wasn't necessary. A rapport had been established, the protector and the protected. Neither youth made an effort to drift off to sleep, their eyes too busy trying to penetrate the darkness of their thoughts. But some of that thinking must have had something to do with sex, because Dennis' soft, snakelike prick began to stir again. His knee rubbed gently back and forth against Tim's warm leg and in a matter of seconds his cock stood straight up, swaying pendulously back and forth and pointing at the ceiling.
"God damn but you're a horny stud!" Tim whispered, turning on his side with one elbow propping up his head. "Is that why my old lady keeps you around?"
"Look, I haven't asked about your past. Why don't you forget all about mine. Dig?"
Tim shrugged. "Sure, Dennis." He felt his friend stiffen, then watched him turn his head away.
Finally, the older youth grunted, "Like formerly kept me around. Let's say I was about to bug out anyway." He turned back and stared sexily into Tim's eyes. "You hot again, Stud?"
"Hell, I'm always horny. For sure!"
"That's what I like to hear. Want to sit on my prick and ride it?"
"Why not?" Tim's own prong stiffened rapidly at the invitation. "Hey! How come you haven't got any weirdo partners you need to share me with? Or any fucking tools or toys?"
"Jesus, you've been around. Number one, I'm selfish. When I get it on with someone, chick or guy, I don't pass 'em around. Number two, the only tool I need is this battering ram right here between my legs. What's with you, anyway? Quit talking and let's have a little action!"
But Tim didn't rush to saddle himself on Dennis' big shaft. Hot and eager as he was, he was seeking a little wild foreplay before riding out another bruising fuck. Climbing down to the end of the bed, he lifted Dennis' smooth, firm legs up over his shoulders and brought his head down into the blond youth's buttocks. He carefully spread the legs and ass-cheeks apart, then nestled his face into the steamy cavity beneath Dennis' big swollen balls.
For a long time Tim licked, ever so lightly, beneath the older youth's nuts, then he traced his tongue all over the tiny hairs surrounding the tight asshole. Dennis wiggled and shook with pleasure, completely caught up by the animal magnetism of Tim eating out his crotch and ass. The rich aroma of musk and sweat assaulted Tim's senses, driving him to lick more feverishly.
"Go for it!" Dennis whispered coarsely.
Tim groaned with satisfaction but said nothing. His heart beat faster as he pushed his nose and mouth farther and farther between the blond youth's savory ass-cheeks, burrowing his tongue deeper than ever into the tender, moist asshole. His face and chin slippery with sweat and saliva, Tim forced his tongue inside Dennis' tender shitter, gradually pushing it open. As the older youth trembled and shook all over, he worked his eager tongue around inside, probing, exploring, and tickling the soft, moist ass walls.
"Ohhhh, Mother-fuck," Dennis groaned. He was so excited he almost came. "No more!" he shouted. The cry reverberated through the loft. "God, that feels good!"
Tim came up for air. Dennis seized the opportunity and grabbed him forcefully, spun him around, and brought his butt up into his own face. Turnabout, Dennis figured, was fair play, and he desperately wanted to eat Tim's delicious ass in return.
"Let me at it, babe," he said gruffly.
For several minutes they sniffed, sucked, drooled, and lapped at each other's balls and assholes like a couple of dogs in heat. The excitement slowly built to a peak, finally overwhelming their senses. Both youths' balls were heavy with cum, their cocks impatient, ready, and demanding to shoot.
Rut Dennis wanted to fuck again. That was his real bag. He could spend his entire day in bed screwing and never get enough. Writhing back and forth on the mattress like a mad animal, he suddenly fell flat on his back and grabbed Tim tightly by the waist. With, a sudden burst of strength, he lifted the teenager into the air, lined up the boy's beautiful ass over his stiff cudgel, then accurately pulled him down.
"Oh, my God!" Tim said. His asshole forced itself over Dennis' well-aimed cock with a soft, oozing sound and slipped quickly all the way down the shaft.
Tim's face beamed. He liked to fuck this way, for he could see what was going on, look directly into his partner's eyes. And there was something to see, for Dennis' face bore an intense, wild look, the fixed glare of a tiger in heat! Tim smiled thinly, shot back an equally defiant, intense stare, and started to ride his big cock, up and down in a deliberately slow, grinding motion.
"Ohhh, shit!" Dennis moaned.
Tim moved his ass faster, increasing the speed of the fuck. He could feel the big crown of Dennis' prong swelling up even bigger inside his asshole as it lunged against the innermost walls of his gut. His abused asshole was hurting again, but the excitement was too great, too deliriously intense to worry about pain.
"You really dig my ass?" Tim asked breathlessly.
"Fuck, yes! Ride that cock, baby!"
In a total rampage of lust, Tim pounded his ass up and down, swiveled his hips in a circle, then furiously began to fondle his balls and jack off. Feeling that Dennis' big prick was about to explode inside his butt, he rode the shaft up and down, faster and faster, like a bucking bronc. He squeezed and pounded his own cock so hard it hurt.
"Uhhhh!"
They both came within seconds of each other.
The bed's violent shaking eased to a tremor as Tim's thick white jizz shot all the way up and into Dennis' hair, coating him like a marshmallow sundae, from head to waist. Again and again his prick spurted hot, warm cum. Inside his sore asshole the older youth, too, had exploded, flooding his shitter with a sea of sticky sperm. Tim blinked and closed his eyes. He raised and dropped his ass several more times, then slowly untightened his muscles and relaxed.
"Whew!" he said, exhaling wearily. "I think I'm hooked on you."
"Yeah," Dennis grunted. "You've kinda fucked my mind, too."
Tim sat there for a long time on top of the spent cock, savoring the last diminishing tingles from its spasmodic release. Even after the big prick had grown soft, Tim did not back off. He liked the feeling of the whang up his buns, the sensation of being physically tied to the strong, silent ski instructor.
"Shit!" Tim whispered, his breathing still irregular. "What do we do now?"
"Pretend nothing's happened," said Dennis flatly.
Tim's spirits sagged.
"Until after breakfast and your mother goes to work." The older youth grabbed a pillow, ripped off the case, and mopped up the lake of cum on his chest and stomach.
Tim's eyes opened wider, expectant. "I don't understand."
Dennis tossed the soiled pillowcase away and grinned. "You with me all the way?"
The youth shrugged, then eagerly nodded his head.
The good-looking blond youth's eyes twinkled as he revealed his plan. "You go skiing. I pretend I'm going to work. But -- we meet back here after she's gone. I pack up, we toss our gear in my wheels, and we light out for Colorado."
"You have a car and enough bread?"
"It's not much. My old surfing van, but it'll make it. And I've got enough dough to last us till we get there, including gas. I've got a head instructor buddy who'll line me up with a job at Vail."
"What about my mother?"
"What about her?" Dennis' tone had a ring of finality. "Any more questions?"
Tim shook his head and grinned.
Dennis smiled back. "Now I have a question."
"What's that?" the teenager asked eagerly.
"When can I have my sore cock back?"
Tim frowned mischievously. "When I get good and ready." His head lifted and his eyes moodily stared out into the dark room.
"Something on your mind?"
Tim shook his head, started to grin, but then wiped it away.
"Go ahead, what is it?"
"I've only known you, hell, a few hours. And you don't know a fucking thing about my past." Tim paused, fumbling for words. Then bluntly, he asked, "You're not into this master-slave shit, are you."
Dennis laughed, placed an affectionate hand on Tim's shoulder, and gently undulated his spent prick around in the teenager's asshole. He let his hands glide slowly down the youth's trim body and rest on each side of the trim, solid hips. "Hell, Tim, we're going to be partners, aren't we? With you, I'll try anything. But let's save something for later, okay?"
Stunned, Tim slowly shook his head. "Sure," he said quietly, "save it for later."