Let’s go back to some short fiction this week. Meet Barry
Prescott, who’s called Barry Bungee Jump because of his passion for the sport.
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BARRY BUNGEE JUMP
My name’s not really Barry
Bungee Jump. It’s actually Barry Max Prescott, but I’m so nutty about bungee
jumping, the fellows started calling me that. I can’t explain the rush I get
from making suicidal leaps and being snatched from the clutches of death at the
last possible moment. I go looking for a jump whenever I can, and that’s not
often enough for me. Guys keep warning me I’m gonna go blind from all that
jerking around, but I’ll take my chances.
Problem is, I don’t have
any money, and it takes money. Equipment isn’t a problem. I don’t own any. I
just borrow somebody elses, even the ankle or chest harnesses. But getting to
the jump places is sometimes a concern. And, of course, the bail bond and fine
money can be a major hassle if you jump off places where it’s against the law. And
what bungee jumper hasn’t tried that?
I’m nineteen, but don’t
look it. Most guys take me for around fifteen. Pisses me off at times, but it
works in my favor, too. I discovered a long time ago that I like guys. Figured
I’d grow out of the hand jobs my buddies and me did sometimes, but instead they
turned into blowjobs and belly fucking. It wasn’t until last year I figured out
how looking like a kid could help me with my passion.
This older guy—musta been
about thirty—named Jefferson Hodges was a big deal in the bungee world, at
least in Albuquerque. We got to talking at a local hangout one day, and he invited
me to go up to Taos with him the next weekend.
I jumped on it in a New
York minute and didn’t bother to tell him I didn’t have any gear until we met
that Saturday morning. He laughed and said we’d make do. I figured we’d end up
making more than that, and I was right. But I didn’t expect the dude to fall in
love. Still, that’s what he said the last time I sucked his dong. We did it so
much that weekend, I worried about him having the strength to haul me back up,
even if he did have a gear-lock box to help out.
He kept on calling and
coming around so much my roommates at the off-campus apartment on Grand Avenue
started razzing me about it. Didn’t bother me. He was a buff, good-looking guy
with a solid economic foot on the ground.
Anyway, it was a soft
life for a while. Then I met Dari, and things got complicated. Dari was a swim
coach at the U, but since I didn’t swim, I’d never met the guy until I crashed
a frat house party early in the semester. As soon as I saw him walk across the
room with two glasses in hand, I knew I had to have the guy. Tall, slim, and foreign
looking. That’s what got me, his dark, sloe eyes. I was drawn to alien glamour
the same way some are drawn to my little boy looks. Exotic is erotic, at least
to my eyes.
As soon as he delivered
the drink to a guy standing alone in the far corner, I knew I was in. Toothpick
Wilkinson didn’t look his age, either, but his nickname defined him totally. I not
only looked younger than he did, but I also had discernable body parts. I
walked up, said hello to Toothpick, and proceeded to destroy his evening.
Before midnight, Coach Darius Pedralis and I were in his bed doing all sorts of
delightful things, including one I’d never attempted before.
Guys been trying to part
my buns for years, but I’d never let one in … until Dari. As he stared at me
with those hypnotic eyes that night, I let him raise my legs to his broad, dark
shoulders and rub his dripping cock up and down my puckerhole. I was so
fascinated I almost didn’t feel his penetration. But I did feel the athletic
fucking he gave me and vowed he could do this any time he wanted.
On our next jump trip, I
offered my ass to Jeff. Man, did he go for it. And he was great at it, too. But
he had a different attitude about it. Dari expected it; Jeff appreciated it. If
Jeff hadn’t still been in the closet to his family, I think he’d have asked for
my hand in marriage.
For a little while, I had
a great thing going. Two studs, as different as a peach from a persimmon, were
fucking me regularly. And one of them was hauling me around the state to every
bungee location we could find.
Then I screwed it all up.
###
Obviously we’ll see how Barry messed everything up next time, and I won't wait a month to post. Somewhere around the middle of the July we'll learn how badly he bungled thingsl.
Thanks for checking out the site.
Mark
New posts are
published at the first of every month at 6:00 a.m.
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