Oliver of the Adirondacks
by Dashiell Walraven
Chapter 1
As Neal and I settled into the bed, we both breathed sighs of exhausted contentment. Mom kissed me and my new best friend on the forehead.
"It's been a pleasure having you with us Neal," she said warmly, cupping his face in her hand, "we'll see you both in the morning!" She turned off the light, stepped out of the room and shut the door quietly behind her. As soon as it closed, we threw the covers off and lay in the stillness of the evening, radiating the day's heat.
"Today was great," he said, and I nodded my head in silent agreement. Having Neal sleep over was the perfect end to what had been a perfect day. Neal's parents rented a cabin at the lake from my father very recently; we met at the beach and become immediate friends. The same height as me, Neal's mop of coal-dust hair was so black that it shone blue in the sunlight.
The underwater weeds brushed our skinny legs as we splashed our way out to the old dock, our laughter tinkling across the water. Once there, we propelled each other off the dock and into the water, only to climb back up the wooden ladder to dive, helter-skelter, off the slippery planks again and again.
Later, with the blessings of our parents, we struck out on bikes to ride around the lake and dry off. During the summer, the lake bustled with activity; the ride around it an adventure at every turn. Going past the marsh, we stopped on the causeway to see if we could see snakes slithering through the weeds. While Neal peered over the side of the rail, I faded back and grabbed his calf with a clawed-hand, making all sorts of horrible hissing noises. He about jumped out of his skin, pummeling me with his fists on the way down.
"No fair!" he cried out, laughing, "You scared the shit out of me!" There was a shocked silence as we both registered the gravity of his language. Making sure no adults were in the vicinity to overhear, we burst into a fit of giggles and proceeded to swear like little sailors while mounting our bikes and continuing on. We stopped cussing after we passed an elderly fisherman, teetering at the edge of the shoreline, who shook his head disapprovingly. Still, it had been keen to speak so freely with nobody around to knock me on the head and I could feel the blood pounding in my veins at our sheer audacity. Neal looked over at me, smiled a devilish grin and sped off ahead of me, spraying pea-stone gravel and sand from his tires.
As we pedaled through the tents and trailers of the state campground, a small cadre of boys started running after us, yelling for us to stop and play ball, which we did for about an hour. When some of the other kids took off for lunch, I dug into my pocket and came up with two wrinkled dollars, which was enough for a couple of sodas and popsicles from the camp store.
A few of the other kids scrounged up some change and joined us beneath a big elm near the water's edge. Our tongues turned all sorts of crazy colors and we delighted in sticking them out at one another while sticky-sweet liquid ran down our arms and stained our skin. I was thankful for the cold iciness of the treat as it mediated the noon heat. The other kids wanted to go back to tossing the ball around, but Neal and me needed to get back to riding.
"I've gotta take a piss," Neal said with a John Wayne like swagger. The boys in the group all took up the call, nobody wanting to appear less than manly. I wrinkled my nose as we all crowded into the outhouse, it stank of cedar, old pee and cobwebs. Each of us stood in front of the metal trough, pulling the waistbands of our shorts down and sticking our peckers over the lip to whiz. Some of the younger ones dropped trow completely, their little white butts clenching as they strained to shoot their streams over and into the trough. One of the older boys just lifted the leg of his shorts and pulled out a schlong that looked almost as big as my dad's. He seemed only a couple of years older than us, but both Neal and I exchanged looks as we took notice of the kid's gigundo dork. We all shook off, stuck our dinks back into our shorts and bade each other farewell.
The road around the lake was mostly dirt back then, and it got kind of narrow in a few places. At one point, a fast moving family wagon came hurtling the lane and I am sure I felt it brush me as it went by. I looked up and saw the car screech to a halt in a cloud of dust and gravel. The driver screamed as she bolted from the car and crossed to the side of the road.
"Oh my God, are you okay?" she yelled. I was briefly confused until I saw through the dispersing cloud that Neal was on the ground, thrown from his bike. Then I saw the side view mirror on the car dangling off the fender. I dumped my bike and ran over to him. Neal moaned and rolled over. He sat up, looking at the bruise blossoming on his flank. I stood there motionless as he looked up at me, back to the bruise and then back to me again."Come on kid," the woman urged, "say something!" Neal didn't speak, but touched the dark spot on his side tenderly and winced. He looked back up at the woman, two wet tears slid down his dusty face. I saw blood welling to the surface of his abrasion and my heart felt like it was going to burst.
"Neal!" I cried, "Man, are you okay?" The woman was near apoplectic, pacing around him. She finally composed herself, knelt down next to him and ran her fingers through his thick hair.
"Are you hurt little man?" she asked quietly, "Can you speak?" Neal turned to face her, but said nothing, his breath coming in little hitches as he almost cried, but didn't. She looked up at me and asked, "Did you see what happened?"
"No," I replied, pointing to the busted mirror, hanging oddly from the car, "but seems to me like you hit him with your mirror."
"Well, I think I'd better bring you to a doctor and get that scrape looked at." She stood up and started to dust off her clam-diggers. Neal, suddenly comprehending what she was saying, seemed to rally.
"Oh no you don't!" He said, scrambling to his feet. "I'm okay, I don't need no doctor!" Color flushed his cheeks again and he wobbled as he stood. She looked him up and down and reached for his side. Neal flinched and drew away. "I'm fine lady, won't do no good to touch it." She smiled and patted his shoulder.
"You sure?"
"Yep," he said, looking down at his shoes, "s'just a scratch, no big deal, I've had worse."
"I'll bet you have." She tousled his black mop and lifted his chin up.
"Listen, I am very sorry to have bumped you like that, it was unforgivably careless on my part and I want to make it up to you, alright?" She leaned into the open window of her car and pulled out her purse. Neal stood there obediently as she dusted him off. "Don't have any pockets?" she asked. He shook his head dumbly as she shrugged and pulled open the elastic waistband of his shorts, to tuck a folded bill there. She lingered for a moment before she let the band snap back against his belly, smiled and then kissed him on the ear, whispering something. Neal and I both looked on as she skipped back to the car, waved goodbye and sped off.
"Man!" I blurted out, "What did she say to you?" Neal looked back at me and blinked once. I shook his shoulder and asked him again.
"She said something like, 'you're gonna make some pretty girl very happy one day..., I dunno, it was weird." We both looked at the dust settling where the car had once been. Neal looked down and pulled the money from his shorts and unfolded it. "No friggin' way!" he exclaimed. Shocked, I watched as he pulled the crisp five dollar bill open. "She gave us a friggin' fin!"
My jaw dropped. I was so shocked that it didn't even register that he had said "us" rather than "me". So quickly had our friendship been cemented that he didn't even think to claim the five dollars as rightfully and entirely his. Instead, it was an unexpected windfall to be shared without question. It was a generosity of spirit I would come to admire in him after I had the benefit of a few more years life experience.
We pulled our bikes from the edge of the road, and he let me inspect his wound before we got underway again. He seemed to shake the entire experience off shortly and we were laughing and calling after one another as we pedaled furiously down the road.
When we came to Mickey's Tackle and Snack Shack about three quarters of the way around the lake, we stopped to indulge in two hot-dogs with everything on them and a couple of ice-cold cokes. Sitting on the dock with our feet in the water, we guzzled the sodas and stuffed the hot-dogs down our gullets, reveling in an orgy of unanticipated gluttony.
Bellies full and round, we sprawled on our backs in the sunlight and burst into paroxysms of laughter as we tried to out burp and fart one another. As I lay there, shoulder to shoulder with Neal, I knew no cares; only the deep, unspeakable kinship of two best buds. As difficult as it is now to describe, we could never have put it into words then. It was just something we knew in our bones, better than being brothers, and more than mere friends.
A distant droning grew louder, but by the time we registered any danger, the dock was drowned by the wake of Garrett Evans' big inboard boat. Squealing with a mixture of fright and amusement, we scrambled ashore, soaking wet as Garrett's laughter echoed across the lake. He turned back to us, shouted some taunt we couldn't fully hear, waved and roared off. We jumped up and down, shouting ferocious epithets and making the most obscene gestures we could muster. Truth be told, the water had felt bracing in the afternoon swelter and it was good to clamber back to our bikes and pedal home.
My house was first on the way so we stopped there first to get a glass of lemonade before I accompanied Neal home. Mom was getting dinner ready and Dad was turning some chicken over the barbecue in the back yard.
"Oliver, why don't you ask your friend's Mom if he can stay for dinner?" Mom told me as she cubed up potatoes, "he can stay over if he wishes." We both made a mad sprint to Neal's cabin where we pleaded with his parents to let him come over. They relented, but only after thoroughly inspecting the new bruise on his side and calling my Mom first to make sure it was all right. After stuffing some clothes and new underwear into a bag, we ran back to my place just in time to sit down to barbecued chicken, potato salad, three-bean salad and corn on the cob. Never were there two more stuffed and satisfied boys as when we turned in that night.
As we lay there in the dark, we whispered about the day's adventures. Our arms slung over our shoulders, we felt each other's warmth as our skins shed the day's worth of sun and fresh air. A breeze blew over us from the window; I felt my nipples stiffen and my nut sack tighten up.
"Hey, did you see that kid's dick at the outhouse?" Neal blurted out suddenly.
"Duh, yeah," I snorted, "how could I miss it?" He went quiet for a moment.
"It sort of looked like it was a different color."
"Yeah," I agreed, "darker like."
"D'you see his balls too?"
"Uh-huh."
"Looked kinda hairy." My eyes had adjusted to the moonlight and I saw Neal's hand rest on his belly, one finger absent-mindedly exploring his navel.
"My dad's is like that," I said with authority, "they get like that when you grow up."
"You've seen your dad's?" he asked, dumbfounded.
"Yeah," I boasted, "how about you?"
"Maybe once or twice, he's kinda private about it." He paused for a moment and then asked, "Do you get to see your dad's a lot?"
"Oh sure, all the time. I've even touched it," I said, nonchalantly. He sat up wide-eyed in the moonlight.
"No shit?"
"Shhh!" I hissed, "Yeah, I touched it okay?"
"When? How?" Neal whispered urgently.
"When he was sleeping in the hammock one day," I explained, "it was just hanging out of his drawers, so I put my hand on it."
"What did it feel like?"
"Kind of rubbery, but then it got hard the more I played with it." Neal whistled quietly and then lay back down onto the pillow. "I can make mine hard like that," I said.
"Me too," he whispered back, "I pinch the hole closed and push down like I'm trying to pee real hard, but it doesn't always work." I felt an odd quickening in my gut. I wanted to share something with him, but I was afraid, even after all we had been through in our first day together.
Garrett Evans, the teenager who doused us with the wake from his dad's boat, once showed me a cave he had discovered in the woods. He had made me promise to never reveal it's location to anyone because it had been the home to an Indian shaman or some story like that. Garrett and I packed a lunch and spread it out in front of the cave's entrance high above the lake and watched the tiny boaters as they criss-crossed the sparkling waters, listening to their distant motors.
There, in the depths of the cave, Garrett made good on his promise to show me something really astounding. While I anticipated our adventure for the entire day, I never guessed the things he showed me in that cave. He took me there several times over the previous summer, and each time he allowed me unfettered access to touch, probe and explore, asking questions and learn about those feelings that even now were fluttering nervously just below my solar plexus. It was this that I ached to share with Neal now.Overcoming my hesitance with a swallow, I spoke quietly.
"I know how to make it hard every time."
"Really?" he asked, "how?" I sat up and looked down at him. We'd thrown the covers to the foot of the bed, and the both of us had been laying there in just our briefs.
"What I'm going to show you is really amazing, okay, but you have to promise you'll never tell anybody." He read the urgency in my whisper, his eyes opened wide.
"Uhm, okay, I promise." Neal sounded a little apprehensive. Quietly, trying to avoid making any noises that could be heard beyond the bedroom, I tugged at his briefs and pulled them gently from him. His pale body reflected the moonlight; I could see him guarding every breath, his eyes as wide as saucers. Smoothly, I parted his legs and slowly lowered myself down between them. His penis lay slightly to this side of his scrotum. I could see the spidery veins in the pale, thin skin; almond shaped blue shadows lurking beneath; the coolness of the air drew it up into a puckered walnut. I slowly exhaled hot breath onto it and watched the skin relax slightly and then tighten again. "What are you doing?" he asked in an insistent whisper, sounding more than a little concerned.
"Shhhh," I said, trying to be soothing, "this is going to be amazing." He laid his head back for a moment and then lifted it from the pillow to look down at me again. I hovered over him and then slowly, put my mouth over his member and silently slurped it in. Neal gasped audibly, so I stopped and waited for his breathing to settle down. I resumed nursing his penis gently, savoring the slightly salty flavor of the skin as it moved under the ministrations of my tongue.
"Oh... my... Gah..." he gasped, his breath catching in his throat, "You're right... it's the most ama... aaazing... thing ever..." With my lips pressed against the base, his penis curved perfectly to fit the corners of my mouth. I remembered the things Garrett did for me and how it felt. Doing the same for Neal made a warm, glowing thing grow within me as he writhed under my touch. I stopped for a moment to let him catch his breath. His abdomen was heaving as he panted. These new feelings coursing through Neal's body were the same ones that flooded me when Garrett introduced me to my first experiences. It pleased me beyond expression to be giving them to Neal.
"See how hard it is now?" I asked. Neal looked down to see his rigid penis pulsing, pointing straight up at his belly button. I ran my finger tips over it, feeling the baby-soft skin and the urgent steel beneath. He shuddered as I pulled my hand away.
"Wow," he breathed, "that's incredible." I touched my finger to his lips and leaned over to whisper in his ear.
"There's more. In a minute, you're going to get this feeling in your dick, almost like you gotta pee real bad, but it's not. It's gonna spread out from your middle, sorta like a sneeze and you're gonna feel really shaky. You've never felt this before, so don't worry okay? You gotta trust me, it's going to be the best feeling ever." Neal nodded his silent assent; his breathing was short and staccato with anticipation. I returned to his midsection and laid the palm of my hand on the flat of his abdomen, the muscles quivering beneath.
Settling down between his legs, I started to suckle him gently. With my other hand, I caressed his balls and pressed the tips of my fingers gently into the space between them and his butt hole, massaging. His breathing slowed to a series of short inhalations and I felt the muscles of his belly tense under my hand. I knew he was close, but I didn't want to bring him over too fast. He was still scared, the feelings too unfamiliar. If I let him come right then, he might cry out, or bolt from the bed. Instead, I just slowed down the motions of my hand, and let the throbbing in my mouth slow to an occasional pulse.
"Is this the feeling?" he hissed through his teeth. I nodded without breaking suction, rasping the length of his penis with my tongue. He pulled up fistfuls of the sheets and threw his head back, pulling in a long breath. No going back now, I knew Neal was balanced on the edge. If it were possible, he grew harder in my mouth. His glans slid free from his foreskin, brushing against the ridges of my mouth. I sucked him fully into my mouth, lifted my head up until his dick almost popped out, and then pulled him all the way in again until my nose touched his belly.
His pelvis bucked under me, I felt his dick swell in my mouth. Rapid contractions raced up his rod, coursing along my tongue as his member fluttered in my mouth like a frightened bird. Neal arched his back and let a long, tortured moan. He then curled up to a sitting position, hunching over me as his penis throbbed between my lips. "Huh...... haaah... uuungh!" came as guttural noises. I stopped sucking, and just held him in my mouth; slick, salty jets fell onto my tongue. I swallowed quietly and he bucked again under me, though this time with less force as he collapsed back onto the bed, panting.
I lay my head on his hip and let his dick slide out of my mouth. I watched as its insistent throbbing subsided to a lazy pulse, his penis slowly deflating to lay flaccid against him. When Neal's breathing returned to normal, I moved to lay beside him. Speechless for several minutes, I finally asked him how it was. "Incredible," he breathed, "Abso-freakin'-lutely incredible." I smiled in the darkness. Neal leaned up on his elbow and searched my face with a weird look in his eyes.
"What?" I asked.
"Nothing," he said quietly, "just..."
Without warning, he leaned over and pressed his lips gently to mine. A hot spear burned through my gut. I was so shocked that I could do little more than lay there as he kissed me. He pulled away for a moment, and then kissed me again, this time a bit more insistently. My arms found their way around him and we drew each other close. His lips parted and his hot breath, smelling just slightly of sweet barbecue sauce and golden corn, blew into my nostrils.
A flame ignited in my chest as he pulled at my underwear, yanking it down to my ankles. He kissed me again, his tongue exploring my teeth and lips. Opening my mouth, I let him in fully, my own breath mingling with his, our tongues dancing. Nothing in all the experimentation Garrett and I had fumbled through in that cave compared to how hot I felt at that very moment.
He moved down to engulf a nipple, my chest heaving under his spell. It wasn't enough; I needed more of him so I cupped his face in my hands and pulled it to mine gain. Neal crawled on top of me, his full weight bearing down on my body. Our arms wrapped around one another, pulling our chests together as our mouths meshed frantically. Legs intermingling, he ground his hips against my pelvis and I felt his newly hard penis press into my own. Thrusting together, our dicks were mashed against our stomachs, each rubbing over and alongside the other.
The sensation of heat and friction caused our boyhoods to throb madly. Pressing my face hungrily against his, a warm glow seized my loins and spread to my legs and buttocks. Frantically I rolled him over and started thrusting my penis against his, grunting and breathing like a steam shovel. I buried my face in his neck and bit my lip to prevent a loud moan as I shuddered against him. My entire body convulsed as I fired my small wad against his belly, making the space between us slick and warm. Neal lay there quietly with me on top of him as I caught my breath. I felt his member give a few throbs next to mine and I looked up at him in exhausted astonishment.
"Did you do it again?" I asked. Neal nodded silently, too spent to answer further. Slowly, I rolled off of him and we lay there quietly, too worn out to move, but still wide awake. I don't remember much of what I was thinking about afterwards, but I do know it was a jumble of fast moving images and thoughts. A little confusing, but very exciting. It was then, lying there in the cooling summer night, that we both came to know the answer to the question most boys are just starting to grapple with at our age.
"Oliver?" Neal said into the darkness.
"Yeah Neal?"
"I love you." Somewhere beyond the window I could make out the frogs calling on the lake and the warmth of the day spread through my chest.
"Me too," I said, "me too."
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