Oliver of the Adirondacks
by Dashiell Walraven
Chapter 41
"Oscar!" I hissed, "What the hell?"
Oscar's grin evaporated and he drew back his hand like he'd touched a hot coal.
"I'm sorry Oliver!" he whimpered, "I just saw it and..."
"Shhhh!" I hushed him, "You're going to wake everybody up!" My eyes darted around the dark room, the only light being the reflection of the moon. No one else was awake, so I tossed off the remainder of my covers, and stood up, making sure my shirt didn't fall down onto the spooge on my chest. Grabbing his hand, I pulled him along with me down to the bathroom.
I grabbed a fist full of toilet paper from one of the stalls and wiped up the sticky fluid that remained on my chest.
"Shit," I cursed, seeing that much of my goop had run down my belly and soaked into the waistband of my flannel pants. I did what I could to squeeze it out with the toilet paper and did a reasonably good job of it. My attention turned back to Oscar when I heard him sniff.
"I'm so sorry Oliver!" he whined, "I didn't know that would happen. Did I hurt you?"
I looked over to him, his eyes brimmed with tears and he was trembling as he stood there, naked in the cool air. I felt my anger dissipate, replaced with concern, the boy was obviously very scared.
"Listen, Os," I said quietly, "You just surprised me, is all. Let me get the rest of this cleaned up and we'll get back to bed, okay?"
"Okay," he said, forlornly. He watched silently as I dabbed at the remaining wet spots on my waistband. "I think there's still some on your throat," he said, pointing to my neck. I looked in the mirror and raised my chin; I needed another few squares of toilet paper to get the little dollop of jizz there.
"Thanks," I said, "looks like I shot a bunch."
"Oliver?" Oscar asked in a husky, almost-whisper, "Did you pee on yourself? What was that?" Through the mirror, I looked down at his awestruck expression.
"You ever play with yourself?" I asked, nonchalantly.
"I guess," Oscar shrugged, "sometimes."
"Do you do it long enough so that you get a big, shivery feeling all over your body?" Oscar looked blankly at me.
"No," he said, "I stop because I feel like I'm gonna pee myself, and I'm scared."
"Don't be afraid, Oscar," I reassured him, "it's okay to get that feeling, because what happens after that, feels really good."
"Really?" he asked, wide-eyed.
"Yeah," I breathed, feeling my half-mast dick give a throb. "So anyway, when you're a little bit older, your dick starts to squirt out that stuff when you get that feeling. Sometimes, when you're sleeping, you have a dream that makes that happen too."
"Ugh," he grimaced, sticking his tongue out, "that's kinda gross."
"Nah," I said, "it feels freaking amazing and the stuff that comes out is what makes babies."
"For real?" Oscar's face incredulous.
"Yeah, when a guy sticks his penis into a girl and it squirts that stuff inside her, it mixes with her eggs and she gets a baby in her belly."
"Whoa," Oscar breathed, his face a picture of wonder and discovery, his hand absently toying with his flaccid little pecker. I finished my cleanup, stood in front of the urinal and had a quick piss before washing my hands and turning to go. I laid a hand on Oscar's shoulder and walked with him back to the bunk room. Quietly, he climbed up into his bunk, I helped to pull his covers over him.
"Now get to back to sleep Oscar," I whispered.
"Oliver?" he whispered back, "I'm sorry."
"S'okay dude," I reassured him, "no biggie. Goodnight."
"G'night," he smiled sleepily.
I laid back down on my bunk, but found I couldn't fall back to sleep. I decided to toss on a t-shirt, and venture down to the kitchen to snag a snack and some milk. As I made my way down the stairs, I realized my Dad was seated, alone on the couch nearest to the dying embers of the fire, beer in hand. I hadn't known he was sitting there and wondered if he saw me parading the naked Oscar up and down the balcony, to the bathroom and back.
"Hey Ollie," Dad said as I sat down next to him, "bathroom emergency?"
"Sort of," I said, "Oscar needed to go, and I just had one of 'those' dreams, so I got cleaned up while he went." I figured it was close enough to the truth that he wouldn't dig further and find out Oscar was the reason for my predicament. If he suspected anything, he didn't let on.
"Oh," he nodded, "I understand. Can't sleep now though, eh?"
"Yeah, kind of," I nodded, "thought I might do a midnight raid on the fridge."
"Plenty of leftovers," Dad said, "I was thinking of rigging up a sandwich of turkey, stuffing and cranberry sauce for myself." My belly rumbled at the thought. Hard to believe that I had been, just a few hours earlier, so stuffed to the gills that I could not imagine taking another bite. Now suddenly, I found myself ravenously hungry again.
In the kitchen, dad pulled out a tray of turkey meat, a massive jar of mayonnaise, leftover stuffing and a fresh can of cranberry sauce. He opened the can with a hand operated opener, because the power opener would probably have awakened everybody in the lodge. The sauce plopped out of the can with a liquid slurp that made Dad and I giggle. Dad cut some hard rolls in half and we started building our masterpiece "Dagwood" sandwiches, when Neal tottered in, his black hair all askew.
"Whatcha guys doin'?" he muttered, scratching at his behind.
"Sammiches!" Dad said brightly, "You in?"
"Oh yeah," Neal smacked his lips hungrily, the fog lifting from his eyes. Silently, we each piled on turkey, stuffing with a generous slathering of mayo and cranberry sauce. As we stood before our sandwiches and prepared to eat them, I spoke up.
"Dad? Do you mind if I have a beer?" I asked. Neal cocked up an eyebrow comically.
"Really?" Dad asked.
"Yeah," I said, "yours looks kinda good with that sandwich and I'd like to try it."
"Okay," Dad shrugged, pulling two out of the fridge, "Neal?"
"Thanks," Neal accepted the bottle, clearly amazed at the offer.
"Well, don't tell your mothers or I'll be in a world of shit," Dad laughed, "and don't go thinking you can help yourself to this stuff any time you feel like it either!"
We raised our bottles and clinked them together in the ritual of male bonding I'd seen my father and his friends do on many occasions. It felt good, and made me feel very grown-up to be sharing a beer with my dad. Neal grimaced at his first swallow, but gamely continued to sip as he ate his massive sandwich. I too found the taste a tad overbearing, but by the time we got through our snack, I'd finished about half the bottle and was feeling a nice buzzy warmth.
With nary a thought, I cocked a leg to the side and pushed out a noisy fart. Neal had been drinking in mid-swallow and ended up snorting some beer out of his nose, which made us both snicker. Looking up at the incredulous look on my father's face only served to make us laugh harder and out loud.
"Look at you two lightweights," he shook his head. "Not even three quarters down on your beers and you're already a couple of silly drunks!" Dad declared, "Shameful!"
Neal, with a sparkle in his eye, raised his bottle to me once more in a brotherly salute; we clinked them again. Neal actually stumbled a little, which made us snort and giggle even more. We sat on the couch with Dad for a few minutes more as we downed the dregs of our first beers together. Looking over at Neal, I could see his eyes at half-mast, his head lolling occasionally as he fought to stay awake.
"Okay, you sorry lot," Dad said, playfully grabbing at our knees, trying to wake us both up, "better get back to bed before you fall asleep out here and I have explain things to your mothers." Neal nodded his agreement and I stood up, somewhat wobbly myself.
"Not before I hit the bathroom," Neal announced. The beer was knocking on the door of my bladder too, so I agreed this was a good plan. Dad bade us goodnight as we slowly mounted the stairs and made our way to the bathroom.
I couldn't remember ever having to piss so badly in my life, and as I stood before the urinal, the exquisite relief of draining my distended bladder, caused me to sigh. Next to me, Neal let out a massive, all-over-body shiver.
"Oh my God," he moaned softly. It seemed like we pissed for ages before we finally were able to shake it off. I was stuffing my dick back into my pants when I turned to look at Neal, who was standing there, staring at me. He had a strange look on his face and his dick was sticking out of his pajamas at me.
"What?" I asked. Neal stepped forward and put his hands on my shoulders.
"Dude," he said, gravely serious, "Can't say it enough but, I totally love you man."
"I know," I nodded, "me too."
"No, for real, I mean it," he shook me a little, his eyes glistening, as if I'd denied him somehow, "Do you even know much I love you?" Before I could answer, he crushed himself against me in a fierce hug, his dick hard as stone. He buried his nose into my neck, I could feel his tears there. I grabbed his shoulders and pushed him back up so I could look at his face. He was crying, and in my buzzed state, I was completely confused.
"Dude," I breathed, "it's okay, I get it. Me too, okay? Me too!" Neal smiled crookedly at me and swayed a little bit in my arms. His erection poked against me through our flannels, I felt my dick start to swell in response. Without further words, Neal put his lips to mine and began hungrily kissing me. My arms wrapped around him pulling his butt toward me, mashing our dicks together. Neal ground himself against me for a few minutes, our breathing coming in progressively heavier pants and gasps.
Neal maneuvered us both to lean me against one of the sinks. Without speaking, he ducked down and pulled my flannels down in one, fluid motion. The shock of the cold porcelain against my ass, along with the scorching heat of his mouth as he inhaled my dick, made it swell and start shooting almost immediately. I hunched over his head, entwining my fingers with his soft, inky hair, as I fired several volleys off into his gullet. I tried to push him off, my dickhead being extremely sensitive, but he wouldn't let me go until I stopped spasming in his mouth. I released my grip on his head as I leaned back on my elbows and shook my head.
"Fuuuuuuuuck!" I let out a long groan as my deflated dick lolled from Neal's mouth, "Holy shit!" Neal stood up and kissed me again, I tasted the boozy flavor of beer combined with my juices and found it intoxicating. I kissed him like that for a few moments before kneeling down, parting his fly and gobbling his stony penis into my mouth. Bobbing up and down on his rod, I made it slick with spit before turning around and bending over the sink. Neal required no further prompting.
Dropping his pants around his ankles, Neal shuffled forward and pressed the palms of his hands against my cheeks, spreading them. Using only his hips, he guided his missile to enter me directly, gliding gently in. As he slowly bottomed out, I felt my own cock start to rise again.
Neal started to thrust in earnest, his hunger and lust for me promised a quick, but spectacular climax. Something about the difference in our heights, the way I was bent over the sink's edge and the way in which he was pushing, caused the tip of his cock to caress that spot on my insides which always drives me over the edge.
My stiff dick was soon smearing clear liquid all over the edge of the sink as Neal pounded me like one of those old, reciprocating steam engines. With a deep, throaty growl, his buttocks tightened and I could feel him strain as he buried himself within me and released his payload. For the third time that night, I felt my insides churn and twist as my own, now meager, jets of semen spurted across the white porcelain. Neal leaned over onto my back, gulping for air, his hips making spastic little thrusts as he pumped that last bits of his orgasm into my guts. His body was warm against me, and I watched in the mirror as Neal, his eyes closed, finished hunching into me. Slippery dampness squished under me as the remains of my discharge cooled between me and the surface of the sink. I enfolded Neal's arms around my chest and hugged him close to me, not wanting to let him go. We stood together like that, until his dick softened enough to slither out of my tingling butt-hole on its own.
"Don't ever leave me," he muttered, nuzzling the back of my neck. I pulled the palm of one of his hands to my mouth and kissed it.
"I won't," I purred, "not ever."
Authors deserve your feedback. It's the only payment they get. If you go to the top of the page you will find the author's name. Click that and you can email the author easily.* Please take a few moments, if you liked the story, to say so.
[For those who use webmail, or whose regular email client opens when they want to use webmail instead: Please right click the author's name. A menu will open in which you can copy the email address (it goes directly to your clipboard without having the courtesy of mentioning that to you) to paste into your webmail system (Hotmail, Gmail, Yahoo etc). Each browser is subtly different, each Webmail system is different, or we'd give fuller instructions here. We trust you to know how to use your own system. Note: If the email address pastes or arrives with %40 in the middle, replace that weird set of characters with an @ sign.]
* Some browsers may require a right click instead
