— Previously published in Playguy magazine - January, 2002 —

Butt-pup initiates his elders into the deepest mysteries

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I was crossing the Academy with Brother Rick, thrashing out business. "Wonderful sunshine," he said, trying to pry his tie from his Adam's apple.

"Heavenly. Did you call Richards?"

"I will. The grounds are quiet."

"Yes. Why didn't you call Richards?" A hill sloped down to the pond. Coming over it, I saw something in the grass. Something lean, smooth and way out of dress code.

"Hi there," called Brother Rick.

"Is he a student?" I asked. Brother Rick was big and handsome and he knew everyone.

"No, my neighbor. Have a nice birthday, Randy?"

Randy beamed up at us. "Shhh." A duck was sitting on his sun-kissed torso.

"That's quite a trick," I said, charmed in spite of myself.

"Pet her," said the young man. "You can pet her if you're careful."

True enough. The bird tolerated my touch. It clucked and settled. "She likes it," said Brother Rick.

"She does!" Randy laughed, clutched his dark blond hair. He had a youthful face-button nose, crescent eyes--but also a masculine ease, confidence even.

All at once, it seemed wonderful to be bare-chested in June--yes, and barelegged. To have fresh, fluffy underarms and round nipples with bee-stung points. "Happy birthday," I said too carefully. "How old are you?"

"Eighteen."

"Brother Rick, what was Pastor Richards's decision about the time cards?"

"I told you, I haven't called yet."

"Better call."

"But--"

"Better not wait."

Brother Rick left with a sigh. What now? I was so shocked at myself. I brushed Randy's skin. The duck screamed bloody murder. "Sorry, I scared off your friend."

"That's all right. She probably would have gone to the bathroom anyway."

"Bet she was hot."

"She was."

My hand moved up Randy's ribs to his chest. What flesh! Stroking it felt like a bath in sunshine. He smiled up. His teeth were white, his face open and guileless. Mischievous too. I fondled everything I shouldn't. Ribs, underarms, chest, smooth round nipples.

"You know," I said, ripping at my collar. "We have a dress code here."

"I'm not a student."

"You're still in violation. Shoes"--I flicked open the snap on his cut-offs--"and shirts are to be worn at all times." I yanked the cut-offs down.

Good God, jutting half-hard from a nest of curls. Man-sized. Bigger than mine. Hefty testicles. Curls so lush, and no hair on the rest of him. I was in some kind of worship state.

I wrapped my fist around the cock. Beautiful, it felt beautiful in the hand. Virile and sculpted. The crown had an even shape all the way around. I rolled my finger over the top. That pulled the melon-colored slit apart; then the whole organ lurched and clear liquid flowed out.

"Oh, Randy."

By now I had ripped off my shirt and was struggling with my undershirt. Kneeling as if in prayer, I dove and swallowed. It went down, natural fit. It massaged my throat muscles, got massaged in turn. Sucking heartily, I started moving up-down, up-down. Each stroke drew seminal fluid. Salty and potent, it was the best thing that I ...

The best thing ever. Randy began to let out little butch groans. His hips began to roll. He was screwing my mouth! And though my eyes were closed, I was aware of Randy's flesh, of his pelvis, his thighs, his perineum. I was strumming the tight, slightly damp plane between Randy's balls and his you-know. I didn't notice that my subordinate had returned, that he'd thrown off his shirt and that he had his hands on the guy's torso. He was stroking it, holding it to the grass.

Randy laughed. He sobbed. "Oh, God!"

I pulled off Randy's cock, grabbed it and pumped. A volley flew out of the slit. It hung in the air before arcing back down, followed by a second shot and a third. Time stood still, then--ban--a geyser! After which, Randy's taut young chest was glazed. Brother Rick caught some on his fingers. He slurped it greedily, whilst I ... I was Sodom and Gomorra. My pants, too tight! I had to get out of them. I had to grab myself, get some breath.

"We have sinned," I gasped.

"Amen," said Brother Rick. Gaping at his hangdog blue eyes, his goofy grin, I thought, I don't know this man at all.

"Hey, you two," Randy laughed. "Show me yours!" He sprang up and made for the duck pond. I gaped in stupefaction. That bare bottom. I mean, that ass! Smart, round, grass-stained ... I stumbled after it. Damn my pants; damn my shoes.

Brother Rick was loping, shedding his clothes. He was beating me by a mile. "Last one in!" But pride goes before a fall. "Shit," he muttered, skidding on his back. No, I didn't know him. Had I ever? We hit the water together. It came just below Brother Rick's nipples, which sat near the outside curves of his deep, square chest. "This is great," he said.

"It's cold. Where's Randy?"

"Down there."

We were being circled by a shark-like trail of bubbles. "How come you're so well-built?" I asked suspiciously.

"How come you are?"

Me, well-built? I supposed so. Exercise kept me chaste, that and cold showers. "Listen," I said. "About calling Pastor Richards--"

Whoa! Something poked my bottom, grabbed it. Then Randy burst out of the water, grinning. He splashed us.

"Hey!" Brother Rick splashed back.

"Hey!"

I found myself in the center of a war, water flying left and right. "Order," I said. "Order. Time out." I started splashing back. It was fun. I hadn't done this since ... I'd never done this. I felt so happy.