Markwildyr.com,Post #253

 

Image Courtesyof Craiyon:

 

Hope everyone had a good ThanksgivingDay. No one overate, I’m sure.

 

Last week, we observed Charlie andRed Leg breech two different cultures to initiate a growing friendship. Charlie’sma took on the task of teaching Red Leg and his sister, but it’s beginning tolook as if Red Leg’s gonna turn out to be Charlie’s instructor. Let’s see.

 

* * * *

REDAND WHITE

I saw a lot more of Red Legand Little Fawn than expected because their mother decided they should join Sissyand me in Ma’s daily schooling sessions. That brightened those long hours forme. While I didn’t exactly not like learning, it got awfully tedious attimes. Little Fawn, like Sissy, took to it right away. Red Leg was more likeme, except he sopped up knowledge a little faster than I did. His English, forexample, improved rapidly, although I’m sure he’d have trouble telling what wasa noun and what was a verb.

After Ma’s class and my farmchores were done, I got my real education. Once let loose, I’d search out RedLeg, who became my new instructor in real life events. He taught me how to huntwith a bow and arrow, how to dress a deer carcass, and what plants were edibleor harmful. Hey, I was learning how to become self-sufficient! That’s a realeducation.

And I got educated in anotherway too when we went skinny-dipping in the creek one hot summer day. He dyedthat right leg with something that washed off. He went in the water red-legged,and came out bronze-legged.

I noticed something else too.A thick black bush and an impressive set of equipment. Looked more like a man’sthan a lanky, eighteen-year-old kid. Course, out here on the frontier, everyoneconsidered a seventeen-year-old as a man. I’d just left seventeen behind me,and I didn’t feel near like a man. Just a big kid.

Anyhow, that day, as we lay inthe grass after horseplay in the stream, my eye kept straying to his privateparts, which made me feel strange. And I do mean strange. I got allgoose-pimply and felt weak in the knees. Then I noticed he was looking at metoo. He might not look a guy in the eye, but he didn’t mind laying an orbdirectly on guy’s private parts. But I’d already noticed he was a lot moredirect in his speech and actions than I was. Which, in a way, made him lesssneaky than me.

So I stopped being sneaky, satup on my elbow, and took a good look. Immediately, I grew intimidated. That wasa man lying naked in the grass beside me. His mind and heart might be the kid Iknew as Red Leg, but that body was definitely a full-grown man’s. And a whopperof a man at that.

First thing I knew, my handwas on his leg, the one that’d been painted before we went swimming. I thoughtit was just a reaction to that missing paint, but as soon as I felt his silkentouch, I knew I was wrong. Flustered, I lay back down.

Red Leg came up on his elbowand took a look at my privates. Watching his big, black eyes—couldn’t tellwhere the iris ended and the pupil began— study me, I felt myself grow.Mortified, I covered myself with my hands.

Red Leg grunted and brushedthem away. I got hard as a rock under that piercing stare, starting when he ranhis fingers through my pubic hair.

He touched his own bush. “Notblack like mine.”

“N-no. Brown.”

“Like on head.”

“Y-yeh.”

He flipped his long hair.“Black.”

“Uh, yeah. Real black.”

He flicked my throbbingmember. “Work like mine?”

My mind stuttered over boththe touch and the question. “Uh-huh. Least ways, I guess so.”

He lay back down, our hipspressed against one another. “We find out.”

My heart nearly failed when hethrew a leg over mind, grasped himself, and set up a rhythm, but I wasn’t farbehind him. As we worked, I got a little extra tingle when I looked at himpumping himself. What did that mean? I didn’t know, but I liked it. I even gotso bold as to slide my free hand onto his muscled chest. He didn’t seem tomind.

Before long—way before Iwanted it to—things started getting serious. I got that special feeling in mybelly and groin, and even somewhere in my backside that let me know I was gonnapop the cork… and good!

Then he let out a groan andstarted spewing like that Mount Vesuvius I’d read about. Hot, steaming lava,and lots of it. He kinda turned halfway into me to finish, and I had aneruption of my own. A long, satisfying one.

I don’t know how long we layhalf entangled in one another, but eventually, he sat up and started cleaninghimself with grass. When he finished, he grabbed another clump and set toscrubbing me. I almost fainted at the unexpected gesture. Before I wanted himto, he rose and extended an arm, hauling me to my feet and pushing me towardthe stream. We splashed and played until the awkwardness I’d felt melted in theglow of friendship.

When we came out of the creek,he got behind me and started rubbing water from my back with his hands. Thatdone, he leaned into me and brushed my chest free of droplets. He felt good,pressed against me like that.

When he spoke, his lips at myear, I was startled.

“Charlie my friend, now.”

“Uh, thought I already was.”

“You my special friend.” Hegrasped my member and pressed himself against my backside. “That mine now. Youdon’t do that with nobody else. Just Red Leg.”

I smiled at the thought.Wasn’t anybody else around to do it with. Nonetheless, I agreed. “Okay. Are wegonna do it again… sometime?”

His clutch became an embrace.“Gonna do it. Lotsa times. Gonna do more too.”

The warmth of his groin on my bunsgave me a hint of his meaning. Suddenly, I was filled with both dread andanticipation. Dreadful anticipation!

 

*.*.*.*.

Well, to befair, there aren’t many other young people Charlie’s age in the area. So youtake it where you can get it, don’t you. But is he getting too fond of thehandsome, young Indian? From the inset above, do you blame him?

 

My contactinformation is provided below in case anyone wants to drop me a line:

Website and blog: markwildyr.com

Email: markwildyr@aol.com

Facebook:www.facebook.com/mark.wildyr

Twitter: @markwildyr

Now mymantra: Keep on reading. Keep on writing.You have something to say, so say it! (Don Travis keeps reminding me I stole it from him, but he didn’tcopyright it. His bad.)

 

See you later.

 

 

Mark

 

New posts the first and third Thursday of the month at6:00 a.m., US Mountain time.