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Ted's Tales:


A World Apart
Part 3: Caught in the Act ... again and again.

The previous section of this narrative may have made it sound like a sort of Paradise for a couple of horny kids. In a way it was, but it also had a fearful side. We were both fearful that we would get caught, that people would find out we were "homos." To be called a "faggot" or a "poofter" was a shameful thing.

My father, who could be very cruel without thinking, once said when we came in the door from playing "down the back" as we referred to the bush on the back of our property, where we had probably been jerking off or fucking,

"Hoy, here's the pair of poofters now, the pinhead poofter and the Boofhead poofter!" I guess they had been waiting on us for something or other, and the crack was mostly to ridicule our new crew-cuts, a "Yank" fashion. "Pinhead" because the crew-cut made my head look small, and "Boofhead," aimed at Ronny, for a rather gawky Australian comic strip character named Boofhead who sported a crew-cut. Dad had thrown in the poofters gratuitously , and probably meant no harm, but the barbs wounded us both. Later, when we were alone, Ron commented:

"Your dad can be a real prick sometimes!"

I couldn't disagree with him, because he was right. When I was born during WWII in 1941, Dad was allowed out of Army Camp, where he was in training prior to being shipped overseas, to be there for my birth, and to help move Mum and me back to the city from the desert mining town where he had been working. Apparently, I was a long baby with broad shoulders. The doctor had told Dad, "This little bloke is going to grow up to be a footy player!" which made Dad very proud. Right after that, he was shipped off to fight in New Guinea for the duration.

When he was demobbed and returned home in 1946, he was stranger to me, and I to him. Nine months later, my mother gave birth to my younger brother, who became his real first born son. I was just some kid who was there when he came home from the war. I hadn't grown up to be a footy player! And he never missed a chance to rub that in!

As I have recounted, a lot of our sex-play was outdoors, but occasionally we got a chance to "jack around" when the parents and brothers and sisters of one or the other of us were abasent for some reason or other. Maybe it would be on the bunk beds in the bedroom he shared with his younger bother or in the bedroom I shared with my younger brother.

My parents must have gone shopping to one of the suburbs of Perth and taken the other kids, because Ron and I got one of our rare chances to be alone in the house together, and we made quick use of it, getting naked in our living room where we had been listening the the footy on the radio, then we were on my bed together in no time. It was a bit of a luxury, with no prickles, sand, or biting insects and we made the most of it. Ron wanted to fuck me, and with a little slther of Hair-ol, right from the handy bottle on my chest-of-drawers instead of via greasy heads, his dick was lubed up and in me, and he was ready to pump me.

His dick felt great, sliding in and out of me easily, and his body on top of me made me feel warm and wanted. But right then we heard the screen door slam shut, and someone enter the kitchen. The door to my room was right beside the kitchen door, and as no-one was home we hadn't bothered to shut either door, let alone lock them. In those days, nobody locked their doors. Only our front door actually locked anyway, and we kept the key for that under the doormat.

So the intruder was in the house and calling out practically before we knew it.

"You home, Esther?" the voice called , just feet from us, in the kitchen. Esther was my mother's name.

I knew who it was by his voice, even before we could swing around to look at him, now standing in my bedroom door. It was Kevin, my uncle-to-be! He had seen us fucking!

Both my dad's youngest sisters still lived next door at my grandfather's place. They were both engaged, and both the fiancés were "boarders" there, already sleeping with my aunts and sharing their beds. The two men were really not much more than boys themselves, about 19 or 20 but Kevin seemed very old to Ron and me right then.

"Oh, ho!" he exclaimed. ""What are we up to? Playing dirty buggers, are we?" He had a big grin on his face. Thinking back on it now, I suspect Kevin knew that my parents weren't home, because the car was not in the driveway, and that he already suspected what he would discover if he came in the house. The dirty old man!

Ron and I coudn't even cover up our nakedness. We had started our playing round in the living-room, and left our shorts and shirts there before coming to my bedroom. All we could do was huddle up and try to hide our nakedness and our cocks, which were no longer hard anyway.

Kevin was effectively blocking both my bedrrom door and the kitchen door, which led to the back verandah and to outside.

"You two blokes reckon I should tell you parents about this?" he asked, threateningly.

"No!" Ron and I both cried.

"No, Kevin! Please don't tell Dad. He already called us poofters. He'll beat the shit out of me. And Ron's dad will, too."

"Well," he mused, "I'll have to think about it."

"Please? I'll do anything you want!" I was thinking something along the lines of cleaning his workboots for a year or something like that. I was not quite prepared for his suggestion.

"Hmm," he pondered, "what about if you both suck me off?" Pretty sure of himself, he was already unbuttoning, and he flopped his dick out of his shorts. It was a long, flabby uncut cock, but even as we stared it hardened and grew.

"OK," I agreed, but Ronny mumbled, "No, I don't think so .."

Kevin was hot-to-trot, and stepped toward us, his shorts dropping to his sandalled feet. As he paused to kick them off, Ronny saw his chance. He leapt past Kevin, out of my bedroom, and out through the kitchen screen door, which slammed behind him, through the back verandah, down the steps and away.

"Oh, well," Kevin grinned, "that still leaves you and me." And to be honest, though I was a bit concerned for Ronny, I was more interested at that moment with Kevin's huge cock, which was poking toward my face as I sat on the edge of my bed. I reached out and touched it tentatively, then drew his foreskin back. "Oh, yeah, that's bloody good, mate. Do it some more." So I did, slipping his foreskin back and forth, untill he was rock hard. "Now suck it a bit." And I did that too! Finally he said, "Turn over. I'm going to bummy you."

Although Kevin's cock looked huge, I didn't object a bit. "Put some Hair-ol on it," I suggested, pointing at the bottle on my dresser. He slathered his dick with the stuff, till it was shiny with highly-perfumed oil. It looked huge to me at the time, but I have to remember that my own dick was only about 4 inches then, and Ronny's maybe 5 inches at its hardest. Kevin's was not much more than that, but it was thicker than Ronny's slim dick by far.

"Tell me if I'm hurting you," he said, as he pressed his knob against my sphincter, which slowly parted to admit him. His dickhead forced its way into the same hole where Ronny's dick had recently been, stretching it wider, painfully pushing its way in. I was about to cry out for him to stop, when his knob slipped past that inner barrier, and he slid easily all the way into me.

"Boy!" he exclaimed. "You are a lot tighter than your aunty's cunt. Did I hurt you?"

"No, not much," I assured him. "It hurt a little, but now it feels good. You can fuck me all you want." And he did. He pounded at my hole rapidly until he was ready to cum. "Do you want me to pull out before I shoot?" he asked.

"No," I told him, "Ronny shoots his spunk in me all the time."

"Ah, you two do it a lot, eh? I reckoned so. I've seen you guys heading off down the bush all the time." He gave a couple more pumps, then his body was pulsing and shuddering as he spent himself inside me. He pulled out of me, and wiped his dick with a shot-rag I kept beside the bed.

"I've got to use your bathroom to wash this oil off," he said, "or your Aunty Marg will smell it on me. That OK?"

"Sure," I said. "You won't tell anyone about this, will you?"

"Of course not!" he replied. "And neither will you. Maybe we can do it again some time?

"Maybe," I agreed. But we never did. But he did tell someone. And that's another story!

After Kevin had gone, I had pulled on some shorts, then squirted his cum out of my ass in our toilet at the bottom of the garden - many Aussie homes still had outdoor toilets in those days, some still night-cart serviced, and some like ours, flush toilets with their own septic tanks.

Then I checked the house before my Mum and Dad got home. Just as well I did. In the living-room, Ron's clothes - and mine - lay just where we had discarded them. He had dashed out of here completely naked. I wondered where he had gone, whether he had got home safely like that. I hid his shorts and shirt safely away under my mattress.

*****

The second time we got caught in the act came right on top of the first. It made us think that the fates were trying to tell us something.

After the incident with Kevin, I didn't hear from Ronny for a few days. We were usually together practically every day, but circumstances at home had not let me get away to ride my bike round to Ron's place, and nor had he shown up at mine. I began to worry about him. Maybe he never got home? Maybe he was still naked somewhere, out there in the bush?

As soon as I got a chance to slip away from my home chores - chpping the firewood, feeding the chickens, cleaning out the roosts, clipping the hedge - I stuffed Ron's shorts and shirt in a knapsack and set out on my bike for his place. When I got there, I thought I was shit-out-of-luck, because their family car was not out the front. But Ron's bike was on the back lawn where he always parked it. I dumped mine beside it, and opened their back screen door, which, like ours, was always unlocked.

"Anyone home?" I called.

"In here," came the reply from the door immediately to my left. It led to Ron's shared verandah bedroom, or "sleep-out," as we called such rooms. I opened the door and went in. Ron was sprawled out on the bottom bunk of the bunkbed he shared with his younger brother. He was alone. "The rest of the family have all gone to the markets," he told me.

"Here's your stuff," I said, tossing my knapsack in a corner. "Where have you been?" I asked anxiously. "How did you get home? Did anyone see you? Why did you run off like that?"

"Hey, sorry! I just got scared. I thought Kevin might tell on us, or worse, maybe hurt us. Sorry for leaving you all by your self like that. Did he hurt you? Is he gonna tell?

"No, he didn't hurt me, and no, he's not gonna tell." I told him about jerking Kevin, and Kevin fucking me.

"Didn't it hurt?" he wondered.

"No, even though it was so big. He used lots of oil. It just went in me easily."

"So how did you get home? Did you get seen?"

Ron recounted how he had been so scared, he had dashed out the door, around the house, and across the road into the bush before he had even realized he had left his clothes behind in our living-room and was stark naked. He ran all the way home like that, staying in the bushed areas, skirting houses, and in the four places he had to cross roads, cowering down in the underbrush until the coast was clear. Eventually, he had made it all the way home without being seen.

Since then, he had been worried about me, just as I had been worried about him, but he had been afraid to come back to our place in case Kevin had told on us.

I assured him again that Kevin hadn't, and wouldn't. "Maybe we can both play with him sometime."

"I dunno," he said doubtfully. "His cock looked pretty big to me. I don't think I'd want one that big in me. Yours is big enough for me, and even that hurts sometimes."

"You wanna try it right now?" I asked, winking and giving him a big grin.

"OK," he agreed. In seconds we were both naked once more. "I wanna try it standing up," I suggested. "Lay on your back! Spread your legs!" On the bottom bunk, he did as I had told him, and tucked his knees up toward his chest, exposing his hairless hole for me to admire. It winked invitingly at me, standing beside the bunk-bed. I smeared my hands through my greasy hair, rubbed it on my dick, and slid one finger into his hole to loosen him up. Then I put my hard, hard dick-head at his hole and pushed. There was a little resistance and then I was in him.

If my small dick really hurt him, as he had claimed, he wasn't showing any pain right now. In fact, he looked like he was in ecstasy. I was just gathering speed, when he opened his eyes and looked past me, at the louvred window behind me.

"Shit!" he exclaimed, sitting upright, pulling my dick out of him. "Look! There's someone at the window!"

I slewed around, and sure enough, there was the silhouette of a head at the bedroom window. We both leapt to the window, but the Peeping Tom realized he had been seen and scampered off, shouting "Homos!" over his shoulder as he fled round the side of the house.

"It was Melly Coke," Ron cried. Melly was a kid the same age as Ron's young brother, one of his buddies. "Stop him!"

We both pulled on our shorts quickly and dashed outside. We could see the kid, a hundred yards away by now, scampering down the country road. We grabbed our bikes, leapt on them, and started out in pursuit. It didn't take us long to catch him, because he was barefoot and the road verge was pebbly and full of burrs and "double-gees," killer three-spiked prickles which would drive right into tender heels and soles.

We tossed our bikes to the ground and grabbed the panting kid.

"What did you call us?" Ronny demanded, one hand grasping Melly by the throat, and the other raised in a fist to strike.

Nothing!" the boy said. Ronny punched the kid in the mouth.

"What did you call us?" Ronny insisted.

"Homos!" Melly blurted, defiantly. Ronny punched him in the mouth again. A trickle of blood appeared on his lip. Melly began to cry.

"Say it again!" This time Melly practically whispered it, but Ronny punched him a third time.

"Take it back!" Ronny ordered, raising his fist once more. Melly had had enough.

"OK, I take it back," he agreed, sobbing.

"Promise you won't tell anyone what you saw," I demanded. Again, Ronny's raised fist, ready to strike.

"I promise, I promise!"

"Spit and cross your heart and hope to die!" Ronny ordered. It was a little mumbo-jumbo we all half-believed would seal a promise with fatal consequences should the promise be broken.

Melly spat on the ground, made a rough approximation of the Catholic crossing one's self over his chest, and said, "Cross my heart and hope to die."

Satisfied, Ronny released him. "Now get out of here!" he ordered, and Melly trotted away.

And that, we thought, was that!

*****

But, of course, secrets are made to be shared and oaths are made to be broken, and it wasn't too long before we found out that Melly had not kept his mouth shut - and he didn't even die! So much for swearing sacred oaths!

The repercussions of Melly's spilling the beans to all and sundry were fairly minor, and in some ways, as far as I was concerned, all for the best. I could put up with the occasional jibe of "poofter boy" or "bummy-boy" from some of the other local kids, especially when those same kids, when no-one else was round, would suggest we play "dirty buggers," as sex play between guys was usually called. I got to play with, suck, and take up my ass the cocks of most of the guys in the village over the next couple of years. Particularly memorable was the longest cock I have ever seen, even to this day. It was 10 inches of long thin, meat on a sixteen-year-old, and I took it all the way in me the first time we tried. But that's another story!

Ronny wasn't so comfortable with such infamy, but usually stifled the catcalls pretty swiftly with a fist in the face.

But it was nearly a year before I found out that Kevin, too, had not been able to keep his mouth shut, and had told someone else about Ronny and me.

During that winter, which was a pretty short season in Western Australia, Dad succumbed to the constant bickering between me and my little brother over territorial rights to the bedroom we shared. He lined and walled off part of our back verandah, and turned the room it created over to me. I finally had my own kingdom, where I would be free to whack off at nights without worrying about my brother hearing.

Winter passed, and summer was here again. It was a stinking hot Sunday, and someone suggested we should go for a swim in the river, about four miles away. I don't know how we did it, but eight of us squeezed into Dad's pride and joy.

Dad's pride and joy was a 1930s ragtop convertible. I'm not sure what make it was, but Pontiac sort of rings a bell. It wasn't his pride and joy because it was a classic, but because it was a car at all. In the mid-fifties, most families still didn't have a car, and when they did, it was an old, pre-war one, like Dad's. The car in the picture above looks a lot like it, except ours had wooden-spoked wheels, and no white-wall tires, just regular black, and I think the spare mounted on the rear, not the running board. Maybe one of you reading this will be able to tell me exactly what make it might have been.

Anyway, into the front seat went Mum and Dad, with my brother squeezed between them. In the back were Kevin, who was now married to my Aunt Marg, who was squeezed in the middle between him and my other uncle-to-be, Des, who was engaged to my Aunt Dot. Where she was today, I have no idea, but I got to sit on Des's lap. No seat belts or safety rules back in those days. And away we went!

It was a bumpy ride to the river, over some rutted side roads, and all the guys were in just shorts, shirts, and sandals or tennis shoes. Most guys didn't wear undies back then and Des was no exception. I could feel the bulge of his dick against my butt as I bounced up and down on it with every pothole in the road. Deliberately, I wriggled more, feeling his cock beginning to swell. I even slipped my hand under me at touched it with my fingertips.

"Quit that!" he hissed in my ear. But I continued to wrtithe on his stiffening dick. "Cut it out!" he ordered in a whisper so no-one else would hear, and I giggled, but I did as he asked, content to feel his fatty pressed against my butt.

When we got to the river, where there were a few other cars in the parking area, Des still had his stiff. He turned his back, to hide it from the others when we were changing into our bathing suits on the "men's" side of the car, but I was looking for it, and got a good glimpse of it, shorter than Kevin's, but fatter, and cut. Luckily for him, in those day's men's bathing suits were woolen affairs with a little skirt in front to hide the "private parts." They were the world's ugliest, itchiest, chafing-est bathing suits ever. I'm so glad they were soon to go right out of style.

By this time of the year, the river had pretty-well stopped flowing, as it did ever summer, when it became just a tidal race, 12 miles inland, and was saline and tepid, but it was still cooler than the hot summer air. I had seen Des's cock, and soon, in the water, I got a chance to feel it. He and I were off by ouselves, a bit removed from the others, and busy splashing each other and wrestling in the water. I seized the chance to reach under the water and grab his cock through his swimsuit. He didn't pull away, but let me feel around.

"You really are a randy little bugger, aren't you? Just like Kevin told me!"

"He told you what? What did he tell you?" I demanded.

"He told me he bummied you, and you loved it!, he said, still not pulling away. His dick was quite hard in my hand now. He reached down into the water, and popped it out of the leg of his swmsuit. Now I could grasp it fully, and it was fully stiif.

"I want you to bummy me," I told him as I fondled his hard, cut meat.

"Not a chance," he told me. "This is as far as it goes, and it stops now." He pulled away from me and tucked his dick back into his swimsuit under the water. He returned to where the rest were frolicking in the warm water, and I followed.

Later that night, laying in my bed in my new sleep-out room, I wanked off thinking about Des's hard cock in my hand. I drifted off, and I think I was dreaming about his cock when I was awaked by a whispered,

"Hey, there, horny guy! Wake up!" I woke with a start. There was a man in my bed with me! In the bright moonlight coming through the louvred windows I could make out who it was - Des, and he was naked! I could feel his dick pressed against my thigh.

"What do you want?" I whispered back, but I already knew the answer, and a thrill rushed through me.

"I want to take you up on your offer. I want to bummy you. I've thought about it all the time since this afternoon."

My boyish dick was immediately as hard as it could ever get. It was already swinging free, because I had not put the bottoms of my shortie jamas back on after I had jerked off earlier that night.

"How did you get here?" I whispered.

"I pretended I was going to the lavatory," he whispered back. "I never bother to put clothes on when I have to go out there at night." The lavatory was Gran's brand-new, brick, flushing outhouse which Dad and my uncle had recently built for her. Probably because it was so new and flash, they had taken to calling it "the lavatory" which sounded a bit classier than "the dunny," the usual term for an Aussie outhouse. "I snuck round behind the shed and tiptoed in here without your parents hearing."

I grasped his cock. He flopped on his back beside me to give me better access. "I'm glad you did," I told him. I sat up, bent over, and took the head of his dick in my mouth. It was much fatter than Ron's or Kevin's and I had to open my mouth wide to take the knob in. I began to bob on it.

"Not so fast!" he hissed. "I want to shoot in your bum, not your mouth!"

I slowed down, and sucked his knob gently, but the excitement was too much for him.

"Stop!" he rasped, "Or I'll squirt my spunk in your mouth." I stopped, not that I would have minded if he did. "Let's just lie here for a minute, so I can get control." We did as he suggested, and he played with my dick while we did. "You got a nice dick," he said. "It'll be a nice biggie one day." Of course, he was totally wrong. My dick never got much over five inches, fully hard, and these days, 55 years later, it's less than that. After a couple more minutes, he whispered, "Turn over!"

"Use some oil," I told him, and handed him the bottle of hair oil which was always ready on my dresser these days. He shook a little into his palm and slathered it on his cock and rubbed some into my hole. I lay face down. I felt him fumbling between the cheeks of my buttocks, then the pressure of his knob at my doorway, then I opened and took him inside. His whole cock rushed up into me – and so did his cum. He couldn't hold it back any longer and spurted his whole load into me as soon as he bottomed. I could feel his dick spasming in my sphincter.

"Oh, shit!" he cried. "I shot already!" He didn't have to tell me. I could feel his dick shrinking inside me. What a letdown!

"Let me do you," I suggested. He agreed and turned over so I could now fuck him. I didn't even use any oil. It was already a bit greasy from earlier. I went into him quite easily, and small though I was, I guess it was enough to satisfy my "uncle." He groaned in pleasure as I gently fucked him until I came myself, shooting a small load into his asshole.

That was the first time Des and I fucked each other. We continued to do so once in a while, when the opportunity arose, every month or so, for the next ten years.

"So what does this have to do with Ron?" you may ask. Well, I've been leading up to that.

*****

A little later that summer, Ron was at my place, and we both got to feeling randy for each other. My parents were home, and so was my little sister and my brother and a couple of his buddies. Ron and I decided to go "down the back," that is, to the bushy, mostly uncleared area at the back half of Dad's two acres. Hidden among the bushes there was a fairly open area with a couple of shady trees. Grand-dad once had beehives here. They had fallen into disrepair and the bees had migrated now, leaving a nice little spot for sex-play trysts. It was to this spot we headed, passing first through an open grassy area which was usually under 6 inches of water in winter. Out here, we could be seen by anyone, almost anywhere on our families' adjoining properties, but once in the bush we were safe from prying eyes.

As soon as we got to the clearing, we shucked off our clothes. It was nice to get naked under the trees in the clearing, to feel the warm air on our bodies. I particularly liked to retract my foreskin, and leave it back behind the glans, so it almost looked like I had been circumcised.

We were in no hurry to fuck today. We were content to be naked, sitting round playing with our hard dicks – or each other's. Ron was in a particularly pensive mood today. He studied his hard dick, growing larger day by day, with fascination.

"It's amazing," he said, "that babies come out of here. Do you think we'll ever have kids?"

"Well, not together," I joked.

"Not at all, if we keep fucking each other instead of girls," he pondered. "I rooted a girl the other day," he confessed. "It was good."

I was really surprised at this. He hadn't said anything. I felt a bit jealous, partly because he had got to fuck a girl, but more because it was not me he had fucked.

"Who was it?" I asked.

"The friend of the girlfriend of a guy at work," he told me. Ron had recently decided he was not going back to school in February, when schools re-opened after the summer break. He was over 14, the leaving age, and had quickly found a job with a local glazier, installing windows in a new housing development. After six months, he would be eligible for an apprenticeship.

I. on the other hand, had just passed the Goverment Exams at the end of Third Year High School, and was eligible to go on to Senior High, the first in our family ever to get that far. I had also received a bursury which made it financially possible for my parents to let me continue school.

I was a little jealous of his new friends, and of the money he was earning - although most of that was handed over to his parents for room and board.

"Oh," I said. "Will you see her again?"

"Probably," he replied. "She's pretty nice. And very randy!"

"Does that mean you don't want to bummy me any more?" I asked, letting a note of hurt creep into my voice.

"Of course not!" he snorted. "I'll always want to bummy you! I love you, mate!"

"Would't it be bonzer if we could build our own house in the hills, and live together always?" I suggested.

"Nah," he rejected the idea. "That sort of thing's just for poofters. Besides, I want to have kids."

Oh, that we might have been born and met 50 years later in Canada, where we could have married and adopted kids into the bargain!

Back in 50s Australia, his rejection of my suggestion hurt me, but I covered it up. Any further discussion was cut short, anyway, by some rustling in the bushes. Someone was coming. We leapt for our clothes.

"Hey, there you two blokes," came a voice from the overgrown trail leading in to this cleared thicket. I recognized the voice right away, but to prove me right, he added, "It's just me, your favorite uncle, Des." He was actually my uncle now, having married Auntie Dot a week or two earlier. "Can I join you?" he asked as he stepped into the clearing. Whether we agreed or not didn't matter, because he was here, and already casting off his shorts and shirt to become as naked as we were.

"I saw you two fellas heading across the paddocks for the bush, and I figured this might be what you were up to. Hey, Ronny, that's a nice cock you got there."

That eased the tension a bit. Ron smiled and said, "Thanks! Yours looks pretty nice, too!"

Des was always a bit of a show-pony, the card, the life of the party. He stroked his dick a few times to make it harder, stuck his hands behind his head, and did a sort of hula movement, causing his stiff dick to wave around freely. We all laughed.

He plunked himself down beside me on the rock where I was sitting. He grabbed my already hard cock between his fingers and started jerking me off.

"Hey, Ron," he called. "Did Teddy tell you he bummied me with this?" He was wanking me rapidly.

"Yeah," Ronny replied, playing with his own dick, but eying Des's.

"Did he also tell you I bummied him and shot my wad in him? Just like he's gonna shoot his wad right now?" I guess Des could tell by my balls retracting and my dick tightening that I was going to shoot, because I did so right then, all over myself.

They both laughed at me as I grimaced and moaned as I blew my load.

"So you like my cock, do you, Ron?" Des asked, moving over to where Ron sat on a fallen log, and waved it in his face.

Ron reached out and grasped it.

"Would you like that in your bum?" Des asked.

"I don't think so," Ron replied.

"Aw, come on! Ted loved it, didn't you, Ted?

"Yeah. It was good," I agreed. "Go on, Ron, let Des do you."

Ron didn't sound too enthusiastic, but he agreed. They spread Des's footy shirt out on the ground and Ron lay on his side upon it. Des lay down beside him. He smeared a combination of hair grease and spit from his palm onto his dick. He put it between Ron's buttocks. I saw Ron's face warp in pain as Des thrust forward, driving his cock up Ron's poopchute.

"Ow!" he cried. "You're hurting me! Take it out!" But Des held tight to Ron, stopping him from pulling away. He withdrew his dick slowly, then slowly pushed it in again. Again Ron winced, but it was obvious that it didn't hurt as much this time. Des repeated the withdrawal and re-entry several times, until it was sliding freely in and out of Ron's ass. Though Ron may not have been enjoying it, at least he wasn't in obvious distress any more. Des proceeded to give him a long, slow fucking, not the one-shove-and-cum he had first given me. Finally, he speeded up just prior to blowing his load into Ron.

As soon as he had finished, though, he pulled out, practically rolled Ron off his shirt, wiped his dick with his handkerchief, and put on his clothes.

"Gotta go!" he told us. "Dot wants to go into town to a movie. Thanks for the fun." And he was away.

Ron sat there in the grass, his knees pulled up to his chest. He was very silent.

"What's wrong?" I asked. There was a long pause before he answered slowly,

"I didn't like that at all," he reflected. "I don't think I want to be a homo any more."

And that day was the start of our drifting apart.

*****

Continued in Part 4: Growing Up and Growing Apart.

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