Oliver of the Adirondacks

by Dashiell Walraven

Chapter 34

Neal and I spent the last day of our summer together packing up the little hunter's cabin that had been our bunkhouse and private space throughout. Two boys living there for just a little over 12 weeks, had taken its toll on the tiny cabin, but by virtue of its size, it was fairly easy to spruce up.

Neal's anxiety disappeared when he figured out my Dad wasn't going to rat him out to his father. Returning to his normal, ebullient self, he and I were able to enjoy our remaining time together before he left for Hartford and I went back to school. Of course, there would be Christmas, everybody seemed to agree on that, and spring break to follow that, but those seemed like an eternity away. Neal, for his part, seemed almost cheerful, or at least optimistic, making us promise one another to write regularly and send pictures.

First, we lugged his bed clothes and pillows back to his parent's cabin, where they were packing up as well. He would spend the night with them, leaving after a celebratory breakfast in the morning. Once done, the only thing remaining was to drag all of my stuff back up the drive to my house and into my room. As I stuffed clothes back into my dresser and tossed the linens into the laundry chute, I joined Neal as he looked out of one of my windows, the one facing the tree house in the back woods.

"Let's go to the tree house," Neal said, quietly. I nodded, it seemed like the next thing that needed to be done. Without further words, we walked outside and up the short path. At the base of the tree, I pulled down the counterweighted ladder I had devised, and we both scampered up and into the tree house. Strangely, the space felt a little bit smaller to me than it used to. Neal, characteristically went directly to the small stack of girlie mags stashed under a piece of slate in the corner, and pulled one of his favorites. I sat next to him on one of the old sofa cushions and looked over his shoulder as he slowly perused the glossy pages.

I didn't even speak to him, I didn't need to. Leaning against his shoulder, I pressed the palm of my hand against his belly, under his t-shirt and gently rubbed him there. Each turn of the page brought a greater swelling in his shorts. Tracing the bulging outline of him with the tips of my fingers, I felt him pulse and throb beneath the taut fabric. I took my time with him, not wanting to rush headlong into anything and have it be over too quickly.

I quietly stood, leaned him forward and then sat down behind him. Neal leaned forward and then settled between my legs, laying back against my chest. I nuzzled the inky black hair behind his ear, inhaling the slightly sweaty scent that lingered there. He took discarded the magazine for another, and started leafing through the well-worn pages. He paused to hum quietly when as I slowly massage his neck and shoulders. Rolling his neck, I heard several vertebrae snap as he relaxed under my ministrations. As he continued to gaze at the graphically displayed couples in the photographs, my hands started roaming around his chest and belly.

Neal squirmed and gave a little snorting laugh as I nibbled an earlobe, my hands dipped down to cup and stroke his hard bulge. I kissed and tongued the base of his neck, raising goose flesh and the little hairs back there; a little sighing moan escaped his lips. My heart burned with a mix of longing and melancholy, know this was likely to be our last opportunity to be intimate for a long while. I wanted to make it last, to be purposefully slow. Neal understood this too, contenting himself to linger under my tender touches.

Running my fingers through his soft hair, I breathed into his ear. Neal abandoned his magazine, pulling my arms around him and laying his head back on my shoulder. We sat there like this for a long while, our cheeks pressed together. He turned his head to press our lips together, bringing his hands up to hold my face. Our tongues fenced and our breathing became deep, sighing as our passions ignited.

"Christ, Oliver," he gasped, turning around to face me. We kissed a little bit more before we both started shedding our t-shirts and shorts. I laid down on the cushions, pulling Neal over onto me, his lips finding mine once more. Our inflamed penises danced together between us as we frantically chewed on each other's lips.

"Wait, go easy" I gasped, gently pushing him back a little, "slow down." Neal nodded, his chest heaving, he understood; I felt his dick throb. Slowly, he stretched out along my body, resting his head below my chin. Our arms wrapped around each other and I hugged him for all I was worth. He looked up into my face, his moist eyes gleaming.

"Oliver," he whispered, "I'm so going to miss this, you make me feel so... I don't know..."

"Yeah," I agreed, "me too."

Neal started to nibble and lick one of my nipples, a frisson rippled through my body and every hair stand on end. Tracing the tip of his tongue down my chest, he licked at my belly button, making my steely dick strain against him. My knees rose around his head as he engulfed me in his steamy mouth and gently tugged on my balls.

"Mmmmm," he moaned, his mouth stuffed full of my dick. I moaned too, in between gasping for breath and gripping the cushions beneath me. Neal alternated between licking my shaft, nursing the tip and wholesale gobbling down the entire length of me. He changed his approach often enough that I could avoid hurtling headlong into orgasm like my body was aching for me to do. Switching up things, he let my cock go and turned his attention to tonguing my balls, sucking them gently in turns, rolling the firm orbs around in his hot mouth.

I found myself lifting my legs skyward as he started to lick the seam on my scrotum, and follow it down to where it connected to my hungry anus. I grunted as I melted under the sensation of his tongue flickering over my hole. Grabbing my butt cheeks, Neal hoisted them into the air, my legs falling open to him. His gentle attention gave way to wanton slobbering as he drove the tip of his tongue into me, swirling against the puckered rosebud. My breath left me as he plundered my hole, teasing it to relax and open for him.

I didn't have to say anything, we fell into a synchrony unmatched by anything we ever experienced before. With my legs still akimbo, Neal sat up and rested my butt on his knees, positioning his stiff rod at my entrance. Spitting on his hand, he slicked himself up and firmly pressed the tip into me. With a grunt, I let him in. We stared intensely at each other's face as Neal slowly penetrated my quivering hole. I felt his foreskin pull back, his purple head popping through the first ring of my defenses; a low moan shuddered through me.

I became aware of how quiet we were being. Nothing like the loud, groaning and flailing seen in modern pornography. No, this was something completely different. The walls of the tiny tree house amplified everything, but all one could hear was the occasional muted gasp, grunt or breathy moan; even the birds outside seemed to be listening in. As he slowly thrust into me, I pulled his face to mine for stormy, passionate kisses; we were doing more than just satisfying carnal lust. The warmth in my loins and backside were matched by a glowing, fiery thing in my chest, a strong need and desire to commune with Neal with every fiber; to be with him, to be united with every bit of him.

Neal enclosed my penis in his fist as he plunged into me, tugging at it and making the foreskin slide back and forth. This, combined with his breathless and gasping kisses, sent jolts of electricity through me. I felt myself grow impossibly hard in his grasp. He looked into my eyes, knowing I was on the brink, bringing me along with him.

"Oh GOD!" I gasped as I felt my semen rise. My dick pulsed mightily in Neal's firm grip, spitting out several blasts onto my belly.

"Hnnnngh, Fuuuuuck!" Neal swore through his teeth, driving himself in deeply; I could feel his penis throb and dance within me. We both stopped moving to remain coupled in that moment for as long as possible. When it was finally done, long after our bodies had stopped surging and pulsating, Neal slowly dislodged himself to gently stretch out along my body again. We lay there, breathing together, arms and legs entangled. I could sense the gentle beating of his heart in his chest; it felt so good to just be present in the warm glow of our love for one another. Neither of us saw the need to say anything, there was nothing else we could have said that had not been already expressed.

Neal's eyelashes fluttered against my neck as his breathing become slow and long. I held him in my arms, his hand had come to rest cupping my penis and balls. We rested there in the musty old treehouse, basking in the warmth and glow of each other, knowing this was going to have to hold us for the near eternity before we saw one another again. Neither of us was in any rush to be done.

"Hey Oliver?" I heard Neal's father directly below us, at the base of the tree. Neal's eyes shot wide and he quietly rolled off me. I grabbed my shirt and pulled it over my head, and then pulled up the trap door and looked down.

"I'm here!" I said, trying to sound bright and cheerful.

"Is Neal up there with you?" he asked, "I need him to help with a couple things." Neal had taken the opportunity to tug on his shorts and t-shirt. While I was talking to his dad through the hatchway, Neal took the opportunity to cause mischief with my butt, pecker and balls, which his father couldn't see.

"I'll get him," I said, unable to suppress my giggling as he toyed with my tackle, "We were just sprucing up the tree house."

Neal scrambled down the ladder as I pulled on my shorts, I followed quickly behind. Neal's dad waited patiently at the bottom as we descended. For some reason, as I came down, they both seemed to be very interested in watching me as I secured the hatch and came the rest of the way down. As we walked out of the woods and around my house, Neal faded back some from his father, leaning in to whisper to me.

"Dude," he said, softly, "you totally have this big wet spot on your shorts, we could totally see it when you climbed down." I went rigid and felt the color rise in my cheeks.

"Seriously?" I gasped. Neal nodded. Not terribly discretely, I reached around my butt to touch the back of my shorts. Sure enough, it felt damp and cool. A quick sniff of my fingers confirmed what I already knew.

"C'mon Neal," his father beckoned from in front of us.

"I know, Dad!" he said, exasperated, "I'm just saying goodbye to Oliver, he's going back inside." Giving me a little wave, he stepped away and jogged up to his father's side. I waved back, feeling my butt cheeks clench involuntarily as I made my way onto the porch.

"Hey sport," my father said, as I brushed quickly by, "what's the rush?"

"Gotta go to the bathroom, Dad," I said, feigning urgency.

"Oh, I see," I heard him say, as I hustled up the stairs to the bathroom. Once in there, I decided that I really did need to go. Since my stained shorts were already down, I took them off and wadded them up. I exited the bathroom to toss them down the laundry chute, and as I did this, my mom walked out into the hallway and spied me standing there, nude from the waist down, as I opened the chute.

"Oh, Oliver!" she exclaimed, making a show of averting her eyes, "I'm sorry, I didn't know you were there... like that." Mom tried to hide the smile on her face, but did not do a very good job of it.

"Mom!" I cried, turning to run bare-assed into my room.

I'm pretty sure I heard her suppress a snorting giggle right before my door slammed.

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