Oliver of the Adirondacks
by Dashiell Walraven
Chapter 31
After dinner, Neal and I lounged on big cushions in front of the fireplace. No fire crackled there, but the television played a new show called "Emergency!" which we all really liked. Dad read his paper in his recliner while mom worked on a crocheting project. I heard heavy footsteps on the porch, followed by a frantic knock at the front door. Mom put down her crocheting and got up to answer the door. The moment it opened, Brian Coopersmith burst inside.
"Is he here?" he asked breathlessly, "Where is Oliver?
My mother pointed to me on my cushion. Brian's eyes shot wide and his face lit up as he tore into the living room and dive-bombed me, yelling "OLIVER!" Luckily, I had a moment to brace for impact, and held my arms out for him. His little body thudded down on top of me and he wrapped his arms tightly around my abdomen in a ferocious hug. "Oh Oliver!" he exclaimed, his voice muffled by my belly, "I'm so glad you are okay!" Neal and the adults looked on with bemused looks on their faces.
"I'm okay, Coop," I said, returning his embrace, "Good to see you too!" Brian let me go, only to be completely enraptured by the television moments later. He sat with Neal and me while the adults visited. Brian, ever the fussbudget, alternated from stretching out along my back and watching TV with his chin propped on my shoulder, breathing noisily into my ear, to climbing on top of Neal and making a general pest of himself.
Although engaged in the action on the TV, I did overhear mom and dad talking about my week in the hospital. Try as I might, I didn't glean any new information; it seemed like nobody really knew what happened to me. I heard the word "seizure" mentioned, but had no way to put it into any context.
After Emergency! the TV got shut off and we boys retired to my room where we tried to keep little Brian entertained with various board games and things but that did little to hold his attention. On about this fortieth circuit of my room, looking on all the shelves and peering into drawers, he turned and looked at Neal and me with this strange look in his eyes.
"Whassamatter, Coop?" Neal asked him brightly.
"Oh, nuffin," he said sweetly, but we could tell something was on his mind.
"Go ahead, Brian," I said, "what's wrong?"
"It's just..." he started, furrowing his brow, "I'm kinda confused 'bout somefin."
"For Pete's sake Coop," Neal said with mock impatience, "spill it!"
"Do you guys 'member what you said to Eddie?"
Neal and I looked at one another, if he knew what Brian was talking about, he surely gave no indication.
"Not certain what you mean there Bri," I said to him, shrugging. "You mean when Eddie was last here over Christmas?"
"Yeah," he nodded, looking even more like he was working through a math problem or something. "I just wanted to know if it's true, 'cuz if it is..." Brian faltered, unsure of his words, "'Cuz, I, uhm......"
Frankly, I no idea what Brian was on about. Frustrated by his inability to come up with the words he needed, Brian abruptly dropped his pants and stuck his little wiener out at us. I looked over at Neal, he looked nonplussed, and I'm sure his face mirrored my own.
"Whatcha doin' Coop?" Neal was the first to break our little, shocked silence.
"I want my peepee to have a skin like you guys," he blurted out, "but I don't wanna stick it in a girl, 'cuz they're gross. Can I get mine to grow another way?"
To say Neal dissolved into a fit of laughter, would be to traffic in understatement. Neal threw his head back, guffawing and howling. It was contagious, I couldn't help but laugh with him, with poor little bare-assed Brian standing there, looking unsure about whether he should laugh along or cry. Neal finally composed himself and held his arms out to Brian, who broke into a big smile and penguin-walked into Neal's embrace.
"Oh Coop," Neal chortled as he nuzzled Brian's hair and kissed his head, "You're such a funny little dude, you make me laugh."
"Seriously though!" Brian protested, "I want a dickie skin like yours." This, naturally, elicited more laughing from all of us. Neal bent over and pulled up Brian's pants for him, helping him secure his tiny tackle. He pulled Brian into his lap and smoothed back his messy hair.
"Look, Coop, here's the thing," Neal said, in a semi-serious tone, "We were kinda playing a joke on Eddie when we said that." Brian looked up at him with his enormous, brown eyes. Neal, very patiently, explained to Brian that all boys were born with their foreskins, and that most of them were removed shortly after birth.
"Did it hurt?" asked the wide-eyed Brian. Neal shrugged and allowed as it probably did, but since Brian had been a baby at the time, he wouldn't remember it at all. Brian was a bit dubious at first, and demanded to see Neal's foreskin. Naturally, Neal complied without forethought, leaning back on his elbows and letting Brian fuss with his zipper until he managed to haul Neal's dick out into the light. To his credit, Neal's penis stayed flaccid throughout Brian's rather detailed inspection, even as Brian retracted him. Not quite satisfied, Brian opted for a side-by-side comparison, pushing me back and diving into the fly of my track pants to pull my wang out too. We both laid back, snickering to one another as Brian grasped us both in each hand, and tugged on our foreskins. Finally, he dropped-trow once again, and tried to compare his little peeny with ours.
"Coop," Neal said, moving over and patting the bed, "c'mere, le'mme show ya." Brian eagerly bounced up and laid himself flat on the bed, his dickie sticking straight up in the air. Neal gingerly plucked at Brian's penis, and stretched it gently out; the slender prong pulsing and filling in response. Neal pointed out Brian's neat circumcision scar, stroking it softly with the tip of his finger.
"Cool," Brian grinned, obviously quite pleased with himself.
Below us, we heard the stairs creak, causing us all to quickly put our stuff back into our pants. Brian was able to get his trousers up all the way, leaving his shirt remained untucked, by the time Mr. Coopersmith leaned into my bedroom from the hallway.
"We're getting ready to head out Bri-Bri, get yourself together and put your shoes on, okay?"
"Awww, Dad," Brian cried, "do we hafta go already?" There was no arguing with his father, that much was obvious, but Brian gave it his best efforts.
"It's okay, Coop," Neal told him, "We'll see you tomorrow, right?"
"Yup!" Brian chirped as he waved goodbye, "Okay, see you guys in the morning!" As his father left the room, Brian ducked his head in quickly and whispered, "Hey you guys, you can't tell anybody what we were doing, okay?" We both nodded silently, suppressing snorts and giggles. I flashed Brian a thumbs-up, causing him to grin expansively and disappear down the stairs.
The next few days were a succession of visitors, all of whom expressed happiness that I seemed to be alright. By the end of the week, Mom and Dad had distilled their description of my goings-on down to a patter worthy of a bored tour guide. They dispassionately rattled off my symptoms, test results, lab values and mystery diagnosis (or lack thereof), to anyone who asked. The kids were the funniest though, telling me wild stories they heard about what had happened. Some of them were so far out that I wondered if it all happened to somebody else.
I confided in Lizzie about the terrible, humiliating, ordeal of being catheterized. She was at once amused and horrified.
"Holy shit, Oliver!" she gasped, "Let me look at it."
"What for?" I asked, taken aback.
"I gotta see if there is any damage!" she said, starting to fumble with my belt buckle.
"NO!" I cried out, by halves both laughing and serious.
"Fine," she huffed, a soupçon of jealousy in her voice, "Neal probably already made sure it didn't get broke." If she was truly upset, it didn't last long. Grinning madly, she thrust her hand down between my waistband and belly, and grasped my dick with her cool fingers. I winced at her touch because, truth be told, things were still kind of sore there. The fact that Neal and I could not leave each other alone, hadn't helped my poor, abused penis to recover any faster.
"Oh Oliver, I'm sorry!" she cried, hearing me gasp and hiss. She quickly disengaged her hand from my shorts and patted the fly solicitously. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
"It's okay Lizzie," I said, "Just took me by surprise, that's all. Things are still kinda dicey down there." She nodded and promised no more surprise gropes. Strangely, other times Lizzie has touched or inspected my penis, it never failed to get rigid as a stick. This time, however, I didn't even chub up; which struck me as odd for the moment, but I didn't think much of it.
After my one seizure, the summer seemed to stretch on nicely. During the overtly hot weeks, we spent our time mostly in the water. My dad sponsored Garrett through a lifeguard water safety program put on by the Red Cross, and then hired him to be a part-time lifeguard at the waterfront. Diligent and thoughtful as you can imagine, Garrett took his job very seriously, implementing a buddy check system for all kids swimming in the cove. I didn't mind seeing him every day in his very brief swimming trunks, which the women-folk seemed to enjoy as well, judging by their furtive glances. I know he appreciated the extra time in the water, building up his strength and stamina, areas where he looked pretty much back to his old self again.
Neal, for his part, became very attentive, but managed to do so without being a pain in the ass about it. He encouraged our normal level of mischief and adventuring, but I could tell he was always keeping vigil for me, making sure I was alright. Our relationship seemed to be evolving in a way that I had not exactly anticipated, not that I'd put much thought into it; we just seemed to be living it. Things just seemed to be very comfortable when we were together. While we made jokes and goofed around as boys do, there were also long, uninterrupted stretches where neither of us would feel the need to speak.
Even the urge to mess around wasn't so desperate. When Neal arrived for the summer, that was the first thing we did; we didn't even bother taking our clothes off. Seemed like we were frantic to join physically, we couldn't get enough of each other. Our first night in the cabin, we got practically no sleep at all, from clambering all over one another. As the summer drew on though, we fell into a pattern of starting the day with a little hanky-panky, going off to explore and play the day away with the other summer-kids, eating with Mom & Dad, and then retiring to our little hunter's cabin where we either did something sexual or just fell asleep immediately. The week of my birthday brought the usual celebrations, well wishes and adults all marveling at how quickly children grow; each one disbelieving I could already be fourteen years old. Mom and Dad threw me a party, of course, inviting all of our renters to a special cookout on the beach, followed by a bonfire. Mom introduced us to a treat she called "s'mores", a delightfully gooey confection of fire toasted marshmallows sandwiched between two graham crackers and a chunk of chocolate.
As we luxuriated in the warmth and glow of the fire, and enjoying the impromptu music of Garrett on his guitar and Dad on his banjo, Neal kept glancing over at me. Most of us kids were still clad in our swim gear, as we'd spent the bulk of the day cavorting in and out of the water. Every time I looked over at Neal, he seemed distracted, until he caught my eye, then he'd smile widely, eyes glittering in the firelight. At one point, I looked over in time to see him surreptitiously tug on the front of his Speedo, I wasn't wearing my glasses, but it looked to me like he might be sporting a boner. I finally took the hint, stood up, wrapped my towel around my waist and asked if anyone wanted to join me in one last swim for the night.
Of course, there was but one taker.
Away from the glaring light of the bonfire, the moonlight drew a long ribbon of light across the darkened water of the lake. We both kicked off our sneakers and put our towels on a bench. I neatly folded my towel, Neal left his haphazardly slung over the back. Suddenly, I realized Neal had slipped off his Speedo and stood there, naked with his erection standing proudly in the silver moonlight.
Furtively, I looked around and realized what Neal had already surmised; nobody was looking our way, and even if they were, the bright light from the bonfire, almost 50 feet away, prevented them from seeing us. The idea of stripping off so close to others scared me a little, so it took me a few moments and some silent encouragement from Neal, to steel up the nerve and take down my swim trunks too.
I joined Neal, already standing ankle-deep in the water and he took my hand. Looking down, I saw his penis standing rigid and pulsating with his heartbeats. A clear, glistening bead formed at the opening to his foreskin and slowly dripped into the water. I felt hungry for him and made a low moan in my chest. Looking up into his eyes, I caught his smile and a flash of white teeth in the moonlight.
"Come on in Oliver," he whispered huskily, "I want to give you your birthday present now."
We both walked slowly into the shallow cove. For some reason, I was sensually very aware of the warm water as it swirled around my legs, pelvis and then chest as we walked in. We had gone about twenty feet past the outer dock when Neal paused, the water at about our nipples. He turned and pulled me into an easy embrace, our arms found their way around each other, I could feel his straining erection against me. We rested our heads on each other's shoulders, me sighing contentedly. He hugged me tighter, putting his hand behind my neck and pulling me in for a kiss.
Our tongues danced as our lips opened, our dicks sword-fighting as our kisses became more passionate. Neal surprised me by jumping up and wrapping his legs around my waist, we fell over into the water with a splash. Coming up, we both laughed and I snorted out some water that had gone up my nose.
"Let's try that again, shall we?" I said in a low tone, waggling my eyebrows comically at him. Without any further prompting, Neal grabbed my neck, jumped up again, once more gripping me with his legs. He leaned back a little, slowly settling down my body so that my eager dick ended up nestled in the cleft of his butt. I could feel his puckering anus sliding to and fro along the top of my penis as he rocked gently against my slow thrusts. I wanted desperately to enter him.
"Go on," he said, his eyes glittering mischievously in the pale light, "put it in."
I'm not sure whether the lake water or if our positioning was the culprit, but I couldn't get my dick to slide into Neal's butt. For all our efforts though, we managed to stimulate each other enough to both reach almost simultaneous climax; me, from the exquisite friction of rubbing my glans against Neal's bumpy little hole, and Neal from grinding himself into my abdomen. Grunting together, I felt Neal's warm emission against my belly as mine jetted out into the water. Neal slowly lowered his legs and stood up on his own, pulling me into another passionate kiss. We snogged like that for several minutes as our throbbing erections subsided.
"I have to say, you two," came Lizzie's voice from an Adirondack chair on the deck, "that was pretty fuckin' hot."
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