The Boys of Nodaway Ridge
by Nicholas Hall
Chapter 6
"The charities that soothe, and heal, and bless, lie scattered at the feet of men like flowers." – (Wordsworth)
Frank and I weren't certain if the other boys we intended to invite to join our group would be willing to do so. We were just about one hundred percent certain they possessed the same sexual desires we did, but we also knew they weren't about to broadcast it to the world. The meeting, to discuss "Nodaway Ridge Shares" would be held the next Saturday at my house and we decided to take a chance and invite each of the boys privately, away from other people's prying eyes and gossipy mouths. While we would visit with them explaining what we wanted to do, why we wanted to do it and how, either Frank or I'd reach over and clasp hands, smile, look down at the other boys crotch as if assessing its hidden treasure, look up, smile again as we looked him in the eyes, and then dart our eyes back down to his zipper. If that didn't send a strong hint, nothing would!
The first lad we talked to, Eddie Gordon, watched the action as we visited, settled his gaze first on my crotch, then Frank's, rubbed his own growing blue-jeans encased tube, smiled, and nodded his head. We knew we were home free! It was a piece of cake after that. Each of the other three, Kenny, Norm, and Max sent signals they were interested and in just more than a community "help" project; more of a "let's all fuck" project!
We saved Sam and Micah for last, but before we met with them, I filled Frank in on what I knew about Micah so it'd avoid any awkward moments – not that there'd be anyway – Frank was just as accepting and non-prejudiced as me. I'd driven to school, so when I met Sam in the hall, I told him I'd give him and Micah a ride home. He seemed a little surprised, but smiled and accepted. After school, we met in the parking lot at my pick-up truck. Sam introduced Micah and I climbed in behind the wheel, while Frank slid in beside me. Micah looked at Sam, Sam raised his eyebrows when Frank spoke up, bringing a smile to Sam's face and a blush to Micah's.
"Micah, climb in; Sam can sit on your lap. It's not like he hasn't flexed his ass cheeks over your crotch before."
Micah did as he was instructed and Sam straddled his lap, twitching his bum a bit to find the right fit. Directions from Micah led us to his house in Central City. Parked in front, we talked about "Nodaway Ridge Shares" and what we wanted to do. Sam and Micah were all for it, but Micah was a bit reluctant.
"I don't live there –yet!" he explained, "We're supposed to move to my Mother's old house after school is out, but Mom is waiting for the attorneys to give her the O.K. Then, my little sister and brother and I will live there, not far from Nodaway Ridge. It's been kind of a mess."
Frank and I sat silently as Micah began to tell us his story; his dad's death, how his mother's parents had disowned her for marrying a black man, and the recent death of his mother's mom.
"We moved back here because Mom thought she should be close to her mother and, besides, it was too expensive to live in the Quad Cities. Dad's pension isn't that great and Mom figures we can hold out long enough to move onto the old home place. Her mother died without a will so the small farm will go to Mom. We can have a garden and a few chickens or something. What the fuck do I know about farm animals? I guess I'm going to learn, right Sam?"
The entire time he talked, not once, did he refer to Mr. and Mrs. Goodman as his "grandparents;" it was always his mother's mom or dad. He did, whether by force of habit or desire, slip his hand down the front of Sam's britches, fondling, massaging his cock and balls, while squirming a bit, evidently seeking a warm, comfortable, tight place for his own rod. Alas, that spot was covered with blue jeans and not readily accessible. Suddenly realizing what he was doing, he looked at Frank and me sheepishly and retracted his hand, now slippery with pre-cum, from its warm nest.
Micah's face blushed and started to say something, but Frank stopped him by clasping his hand, pulling it to his mouth, and with his tongue, deftly swiped the stickiness into his own mouth, savoring it with the comment, "Still tastes the same, Sammy, even though it's been a while," and we all laughed easing Micah's discomfort and bringing him to the realization that he and Sam were among friends and like companions.
The next Saturday, everyone assembled at my house, in fact, more than just everyone Frank and I invited. Besides the other boys of Nodaway Ridge, I'd invited Mrs. Adams and Mr. Hanson and they, in turn, invited Pastor Tolliver, Maude Johnson from the café, George Winthrop from the Bank, and Gary Raasch from the American Legion. It seems they were all interested in hearing what we had to say and how we were going to do it!
Frank and I explained our idea, the necessity we could see for such an organization in our community and area, and the role the boys of Nodaway Ridge would play. We really tried to communicate how necessary and important a project such as this could be for all of us in the Nodaway Ridge area. Before we finished that day, a committee had been formed with Mr. Hanson and Mrs. Adams co-chairing it. The Boys of Nodaway Ridge would comprise the fleet of messengers, procurers, and deliverers of those items needed by various residents.
Mr. Raasch, from the Legion, volunteered the proceeds from two yearly fish fries to help with finances; Mr. Winthrop made a five hundred dollar donation from the Bank and would maintain an account at the bank and donation containers for those individuals who wanted to donate funds to the project; Maude volunteered to sponsor a once a year pancake breakfast with all proceeds going toward the fund for "Nodaway Ridge Shares."
I asked Maude that if we went fishing for catfish and did really well, would she be able to store some for us in any of her freezers. Before she could speak up, Mr. Hanson, boomed, "Hell, I've got a big upright out at my house that sits almost empty, so fill it up!"
"That's not the only big upright he's got," I whispered to Frank. Frank just giggled.
The Boys set the next Friday night as a night to begin filling that freezer. Catfish is something everyone in Nodaway Ridge loves and many of the older people just can't get out to fish for them. Besides, the fish is a good source of protein, a good meal, plentiful, and free (if the wardens don't catch us with too many fish or lines in the water). We would spend the night camping along the Des Moines River fishing set lines and ditty poles.
Frank and I prepared the bait, rotten clams, chicken livers (slightly tainted to give them a nice "ripe" smell), and commercial catfish bait. Don't know what that is? I don't know either- all I know is has the consistency, color, and smell of pig shit. The catfish love it!
Three pickup trucks hauled us and our gear to a secluded spot where Frank and I often fished; undisturbed you understand. I quickly set up a couple of tents for anyone who wanted to sleep or whatever. Eddie and Ken quietly set about cutting long willow branches for ditty poles while Norm and Max began baiting the set lines or, in our case, throw lines. Each line had from five to ten treble hooks attached about four feet apart and a heavy weight at one end of the long line to secure it to the river bottom once we tossed it out from shore. The other end was secured to a tree or strong stake to keep the fish from pulling it away and allow us to pull in the catch. The lines would cover a pretty fair stretch of the river once they were tossed and secured. The ditty poles were jammed into the bank next to snags, the weighted, baited treble hook, bobbing up and down about two foot under the surface. A jingle bell was hooked on the end of the pole to signal when a catfish hooked itself on the ditty pole.
Frank and I got out the ice chests and with Sam and Micah helping, fixed supper for the crew. Micah had never been fishing catfish this way before so it was new experience for him. We explained while the other boys put out the lines, the four of us would draw the first shift checking the lines, bringing in any fish, cleaning them, and icing them down. After a couple of hours the next four (Max, Eddie, Ken, and Norm) would take the next two hour shift, and so it would continue throughout the night or until we had plenty. In between shifts, well, anything goes.
After supper, we cleaned up the dishes and, as night began to creep in on us, we took the first check of our lines. It took us about a half hour or so and each line had at least one nice catfish on it. The ditty poles were producing nothing at first, but we figured once full dark was on us, they would begin catching fish. When we returned to the camp to clean the fish and ice them down, the other four were sitting talking to each other around a campfire. Spotting us with the fish, they helped us skin, gut, and market dress the fish. Once washed, the fish were put in the ice chests to cool and keep fresh. Since it was not time for the others to begin their shift, Frank, Sam, Micah, and I made another run on the lines and again brought back fish. Fish cleaned and iced, I declared it time for a break.
I settled down, back against a log near the fire, with Frank leaning back between my legs, his back settled in my crotch. Sam distributed cold sodas all the way around; I would've brought some beer, but I really wasn't certain about the other four newbies to the group. Relaxed, I leaned forward, gave Frank a kiss, and slipped my hand under his shirt. Sam and Micah were in the same position with Sam leaning into Micah and Micah, nuzzling Sam's neck, slipped his hand down the front of Sam's pants and began a slow, sensuous jacking motion. Our four new friends looked at us, then at each other, and smiled. All four of them were busy rearranging their crotches since it would seem some serious boners were making their appearances.
I don't think they knew what to expect or what their role would be. I knew what they wanted, but they were going to have to ask. Frank solved the problem for them, "Nate and I are a couple," he began, "and before the night is over, we're going to suck and fuck each other a couple of time, at least. Sam and Micah are together and, if I don't miss my guess, Sam's going to take it up the ass any minute now. Nate and I don't share, but I can't speak for Sam and Micah. What you guys want to do, go for it!"
All four smiled, nodded their agreement while Eddie spoke up, "I don't know about Max, Ken, and Norm, but everything I know about sex between boys is just what came from fantasies in my own mind, but man, I want to learn, so if you guys are willing, then teach me!"
Frank turned over, unzipped my pants, and snaked his hand into my fly, bringing forth my stiff, eager member, prepared for a good and healthy nursing by his talented lips and mouth, when someone in the group, squealed "Holy Shit!"
My eyes left Frank and, looking in the direction of the voice, I fixed instead on Sammy, pants off, backing up to a pant-less Micah, preparing to be bred by him really and truly well. I thought Frank's dick was large, but it paled in comparison to the long schlong Micah possessed. It was long, dark, thick, uncut like the rest of us, with a flared pink head the size of a good-sized strawberry fresh from the patch, dripping, oozing with its delicious goodness, anxious to enter some warm tight cavity. It was stiff, but Micah had to hold it to guide it into Sammy's well lubricated portal.
Sammy eased the fat head of the princely prick into his gate and then slowly twisting and wiggling began backing up until the full length of Micah's pole was secured deeply inside his body, stopped only by Micah's pubes and groin. Micah leaned forward across Sam's back, reached around, secured Sam's rampant tool and began jacking him as he fucked him slowly, deliberately, and in an experienced manner intended to bring both of them pleasure.
Four other tools quickly made their appearance through opened pants and the boys began whipping their willies for all they were worth! As the action unfolded in front of us, Frank pulled his lips off of my dick and we both watch Micah intensify his actions until, with a sigh, pushed his pole in to the limit, flexing his ass cheeks as he exploded into his boyfriend. Sam joined him with a squeal, shooting a white stream out from under himself onto the dirt. The other four followed suit, but shot their wads out onto the grass surrounding the fire ring. Micah stayed inside Sam, pulsing, until cum began leaking out from Sam's bung around Micah's softening tool. When he finally pulled out, there was an audible "plop" and Sam turned around and kissed him deeply.
Before Micah could put it away, we all had to take a look. It was the first black male cock any of us had ever seen up close and personal. Well, we had seen some in pictures, but Micah was the only black student in our school, so it was not only a revelation for us, but fascinating, mesmerizing as only something of beauty can do to the human psyche. Pictures in magazines, descriptions in stories, none of these did justice to that magnificent tube of man-flesh displayed before us. Were it be rendered to art, it would be displayed in the finest museums of the world, at least we thought so. It brought credence to the belief that the human cock is a thing of beauty, no matter its color, size, or level of maturity. It was clear to all of us that evening; the "object de' art" belonged to Sam and no one else.
The silent admiration was broken when Frank declared emphatically, "Well, that's lesson number one."
After our bit of a display, we quickly agreed to finish our fishing and fill the ice chests. Shortly after one o'clock in the morning, we called it quits, gathered in our lines and poles and headed for our tents. Frank and I, Sam and Micah shared one tent while Ken, Norm, Eddie, and Max headed for the other one. After they retired, judging from the sounds emanating from their tent, I imagined they were trying what Micah and Sam did earlier that evening.
The Literary works of Nicholas Hall are protected by the copyright laws of the United States of America and are the property of the author.
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
