Oliver of the Adirondacks

by Dashiell Walraven

Chapter 49

During our summer work, Dad insisted that Neal and I take a day off at least once per week. We decided, one weekend, to take a trip over to Gaslight Village on Lake George, about ninety minutes away. With some money saved up from working, we borrowed Mom's car (the truck wasn't good for a trip that long), and booked a room at one of the small, tourist trap motels near the lake. The room wasn't much, be we weren't there to hang out in the room.

It took most of the morning to get there, being that we didn't leave very early, so we arrived about noon. Once we got into Gaslight Village, we wandered around a bit. Neal was more an enthusiast of the rides than I was, but I went along anyhow. We rode the Dragon Roller Coaster, which was definitely not one of the scarier ones I've seen, and well within my tolerance. The Ferris wheel was fine, but that one caused Neal some consternation, due to its height and decidedly rickety feel.

We attended a "Meller-Drama" in the Opera House, which featured a classic villain, which we all booed and hissed, as well as the comely maiden and handsome hero, for whom we clapped and cheered. Gorging ourselves on typical park food like sausages, French fries, cold fountain sodas (which were pretty terrible actually), and funnel cakes, it wasn't long before we'd exhausted everything the park had to offer, in terms of entertainment. The evening's entertainment was to be a square-dance with a local band, which didn't sound like fun to either of us. We decided to exit the park and check out some of the other destinations around Lake George.

Naturally, we were drawn to the House of Frankenstein Wax Museum. A relatively new addition to Lake George, the converted store front home offered chills and thrills (in air conditioned comfort!). We gladly paid the paltry admission price. Luckily, Neal had brought along his Kodak Instamatic camera, we got another tourist family to take a couple of shots of us with a figure of the Frankenstein Monster out front before we dared to venture inside.

Even though themed with the Lon Chaney version of the Mary Shelley story, the "museum" camped it up with scenes from stories by Edgar Allen Poe, Victor Hugo and various other authors. Around each corner, we met each surprise with giggly delight, and sometimes disgust. Not because of the gruesome scenes presented, but because they were so obviously not real, they seemed almost comical. In more than a few places, we took liberties with our hands in the darkness. At one point, Neal jumped out of his skin as I reached around and groped him.

Still, as silly as it all was, we were disappointed when the fun ended. The path through the museum led us back into the sunlight, through a gift shop where we could pick up innumerable little tchotchkes. We felt obligated to buy something, so I got a trick package of gum that snapped at the fingers of your victim if you offered them a piece. Neal got a pair of so-called X-Ray Specs; a cheap frame featuring hypnotic looking cardboard inserts with a small, polarized plastic lens in the center. They did little more than give the wearer a headache. Neal accidently left them in the restroom of a local sandwich shop; we didn't feel inspired to go back for them.

That night, we fed quarters into the "Magic Fingers" bed, and giggled like fiends as the shaking mattress made my voice all jiggly as I tried to sing "House of the Rising Sun". Soon, we exhausted our supply of quarters. The television turned on, but didn't get very many channels, and of those it did, none of them were very clear. The one thing that worked well was the air conditioning, which we dialed down to low. After a mutual, but chaste, shower, we streaked through the frigid room and dove under the covers, naked as the day we were born. Laying together, I pulled Neal over, on top of me, gazing up into his amazing eyes.

"What?" he asked, biting his lower lip. I felt him harden against me.

"Just... I... " I stammered, "I wonder how I got so lucky?" Neal's eyes sparkled, they seemed to well up a little.

"Naw," he whispered quietly, "I'm the lucky one. If you hadn't found me, I'd have probably ended up some frustrated rent-boy turning tricks in Bushnell Park."

"Seriously?" I asked, astonished.

"Think about it," he nodded cheerfully, "I didn't even know I was gay until I met you."

"Didn't you say you messed around with your friends?"

"Yeah," he agreed, "but they messed around with me too, it wasn't anything more than normal kid stuff. But I always had these feelings and I knew I wasn't like the other guys. I liked girls just as much as they did, but then you came along, and changed all that."

"Okay," I reasoned, "so how does that mean you'd have ended up so bad?"

"Mostly my dad," he said, quietly, "because he doesn't understand, and... because he drinks..."

"I see," I nodded, "I think I get it."

"Honestly, Oliver," he pressed his lips to mine, "if you hadn't come along when you did, I think I would never have known true love." His words caught in his throat and a tear spilled down onto my cheek. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him to me, showering him with desperate kisses. My erection rose, brushing the inside of his legs, he must have felt it because he closed them tightly to capture it between them. I felt Neal grind his dick against my belly, it throbbed strongly.

Truthfully, I had been waiting for this moment for the whole day. There was something inherently naughty about taking a lover to a cheap motel room. For some perverse reason, the tacky décor, the vibrating bed, all served to heighten our sense of misbehavior. As we wriggled together, madly kissing one another, the tip of my penis worked its way in between the cleft of his butt, and began knocking on his rear entrance.

Neal gasped in my mouth as he felt the insistent pressure. He pressed his palms against my chest and sat up, straddling my hips. Reaching behind, he took a firm grasp of me, aiming my dick straight for his hole, and tried to push it in. Going in dry was not something we'd ever tried, but Neal seemed desperate to get me inside him. He bore down, which did let him open up just enough to get the tiniest bit of my head in, but only temporarily. Gamely, he continued on, pressing and pushing, moving any way he could think of to encourage me into him. The effect of his ministrations and determination on his face, made me hard as steel.

The tiny penetrations eventually took their toll, and I bucked against him. Groaning, I unleashed a torrent of spunk against his anus, which suddenly provided the needed lubrication. I experienced an exquisite pleasure unlike any I'd known before, as I plunged deeply into Neal, before I even stopped spurting. My body tightened up and my orgasm intensified, the breath rushing out of me in spasms.

"Oh Jesus!" Neal cried out, his stone-hard penis spraying all over me, he hadn't even touched himself yet. Neal collapsed on top of me, our heaving chests warm and slippery against each other. We took barely minutes to recover, as my rigid dick was still inside him. Still breathing a little raggedly, I thrust slowly into him once more. Neal lifted his head, looked into my eyes, and grinned wickedly.

"A little more slowly this time?" I asked, waggling my eyebrows at him. Neal snorted, his shoulders shook in silent laughter.

"Yes," he agreed, nodding enthusiastically, "Maybe a little."

We rolled over very slowly, somewhat acrobatically, not disengaging at all. Neal slung his legs over my shoulders, allowing me to thrust in deeply and deliberately. He threw his head back and gasped as I brushed that special place within; I felt him tighten around me. I groaned.

We did take our time with each other. As I slowly pistoned in and out, I took him in hand and gently stroked him. We didn't say much of anything to each other; his eyes glittered as he looked up at me, the look on his face made me feeling like I was glowing all over my body. At one point, he reached up and cupped my face in his hand, brushing my hair from my eyes. Slowly, the look of concentration returned to his face again. Closing his eyes, he clasped his hands around my neck and pulled me to him for a very intense kiss.

"Oh God," I muttered, bottoming out in him once more, "I'm gonna..."

Neal nodded in hasty agreement, eyes screwed shut. His penis swelled in my grip and contractions started racing along its length. Neal shuddered beneath me, gripping me with his internal muscles. Fighting the urge to start pounding, I withdrew almost to the point of pulling out, and slowly plunged back into him. My penis began pulsing wildly, as I emptied whatever reserves I had left, into him. We finally separated, and I fell down beside him, still gasping for air. He immediately rolled over to lean against me, draping an arm over our messy bodies.

"Fuuuuuck," he breathed into my shoulder, "Holy fucking shit." Neal wasn't one to swear lightly, but in this case, it seemed entirely justified. I nodded my silent agreement.

I think, were it not for the overachieving air conditioner, we would have laid with one another like the rest of the night. The cool, dry air stared to work its evaporative magic, and we soon became uncomfortable enough to stir from our post-coital bliss. We peeled off one another, and made our way to the shower. Beneath the hot water, we washed away the physical signs of our love-making, but not the afterglow.

We continued to kiss and caress as we soaped ourselves in the shower. Unbelievably, Neal got hard again. He gave me a playful look of pleading in his eyes, while biting his lower lip. I dare any red-blooded boy to resist such a face, I surely could not, and I didn't. As the warm water flowed over us, I took him into my mouth, feeling his foreskin slide back from the pressure of my tongue. He moaned and shook as he stood there, I gripped his butt, pulling him deeper into my mouth.

"Unghhhhh," he breathed softly, his fingers intertwining with my hair. Encircling the base of his cock with my fingers, I pulled his foreskin taut, while drilling the tip of my tongue into his frenulum. His legs nearly buckled, and the slippery floor of the tub made things treacherous; Neal held a firm grip on the handhold to keep the both of us upright. Eventually, the water began to run cold, so we stopped momentarily to dry off, leap naked through the cold air of the room, and retreat under the covers, shivering and laughing.

Once safely warm under the covers, I slid down and set back to work. Neal never lost his hard-on, and it took me a solid twenty minutes of earnest effort to finally bring him across the finish line. When he came, he had little left to give; I still swallowed his meager offering. I let him subside in my mouth, letting my aching jaw rest. His limp penis eventually slipped out and by the time I settled in next to him on the pillow, he was already asleep with a most beatific smile on his face.

I kissed his slumbering cheek, nestled my nose into the soft cloud of his raven hair, and drifted off myself.

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