Markwildyr.com, Post #253
Hope everyone had a good Thanksgiving
Day. No one overate, I’m sure.
Last week, we observed Charlie and
Red Leg breech two different cultures to initiate a growing friendship. Charlie’s
ma took on the task of teaching Red Leg and his sister, but it’s beginning to
look as if Red Leg’s gonna turn out to be Charlie’s instructor. Let’s see.
* * * *
RED
AND WHITE
I saw a lot more of Red Leg
and Little Fawn than expected because their mother decided they should join Sissy
and me in Ma’s daily schooling sessions. That brightened those long hours for
me. While I didn’t exactly not like learning, it got awfully tedious at
times. Little Fawn, like Sissy, took to it right away. Red Leg was more like
me, except he sopped up knowledge a little faster than I did. His English, for
example, improved rapidly, although I’m sure he’d have trouble telling what was
a noun and what was a verb.
After Ma’s class and my farm
chores were done, I got my real education. Once let loose, I’d search out Red
Leg, who became my new instructor in real life events. He taught me how to hunt
with a bow and arrow, how to dress a deer carcass, and what plants were edible
or harmful. Hey, I was learning how to become self-sufficient! That’s a real
education.
And I got educated in another
way too when we went skinny-dipping in the creek one hot summer day. He dyed
that 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’s
than a lanky, eighteen-year-old kid. Course, out here on the frontier, everyone
considered 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 in
the grass after horseplay in the stream, my eye kept straying to his private
parts, which made me feel strange. And I do mean strange. I got all
goose-pimply and felt weak in the knees. Then I noticed he was looking at me
too. He might not look a guy in the eye, but he didn’t mind laying an orb
directly on guy’s private parts. But I’d already noticed he was a lot more
direct in his speech and actions than I was. Which, in a way, made him less
sneaky than me.
So I stopped being sneaky, sat
up on my elbow, and took a good look. Immediately, I grew intimidated. That was
a man lying naked in the grass beside me. His mind and heart might be the kid I
knew as Red Leg, but that body was definitely a full-grown man’s. And a whopper
of a man at that.
First thing I knew, my hand
was on his leg, the one that’d been painted before we went swimming. I thought
it was just a reaction to that missing paint, but as soon as I felt his silken
touch, I knew I was wrong. Flustered, I lay back down.
Red Leg came up on his elbow
and took a look at my privates. Watching his big, black eyes—couldn’t tell
where the iris ended and the pupil began— study me, I felt myself grow.
Mortified, I covered myself with my hands.
Red Leg grunted and brushed
them away. I got hard as a rock under that piercing stare, starting when he ran
his fingers through my pubic hair.
He touched his own bush. “Not
black like mine.”
“N-no. Brown.”
“Like on head.”
“Y-yeh.”
He flipped his long hair.
“Black.”
“Uh, yeah. Real black.”
He flicked my throbbing
member. “Work like mine?”
My mind stuttered over both
the touch and the question. “Uh-huh. Least ways, I guess so.”
He lay back down, our hips
pressed against one another. “We find out.”
My heart nearly failed when he
threw a leg over mind, grasped himself, and set up a rhythm, but I wasn’t far
behind him. As we worked, I got a little extra tingle when I looked at him
pumping himself. What did that mean? I didn’t know, but I liked it. I even got
so bold as to slide my free hand onto his muscled chest. He didn’t seem to
mind.
Before long—way before I
wanted it to—things started getting serious. I got that special feeling in my
belly and groin, and even somewhere in my backside that let me know I was gonna
pop the cork… and good!
Then he let out a groan and
started 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 an
eruption of my own. A long, satisfying one.
I don’t know how long we lay
half entangled in one another, but eventually, he sat up and started cleaning
himself with grass. When he finished, he grabbed another clump and set to
scrubbing me. I almost fainted at the unexpected gesture. Before I wanted him
to, he rose and extended an arm, hauling me to my feet and pushing me toward
the stream. We splashed and played until the awkwardness I’d felt melted in the
glow of friendship.
When we came out of the creek,
he got behind me and started rubbing water from my back with his hands. That
done, 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 my
ear, I was startled.
“Charlie my friend, now.”
“Uh, thought I already was.”
“You my special friend.” He
grasped my member and pressed himself against my backside. “That mine now. You
don’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 we
gonna 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 buns
gave me a hint of his meaning. Suddenly, I was filled with both dread and
anticipation. Dreadful anticipation!
Well, to be
fair, there aren’t many other young people Charlie’s age in the area. So you
take it where you can get it, don’t you. But is he getting too fond of the
handsome, young Indian? From the inset above, do you blame him?
Website and blog: markwildyr.com
Email: markwildyr@aol.com
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Twitter: @markwildyr
Now my
mantra: 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’t
copyright it. His bad.)
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