Thursday, January 4, 2024

An Army Brat and a White-Vined Park Bench (Part 2 of 2 Parts), Post #256

 Image Courtesy of Amazon:


Hope Christmas went well for everyone. Now we have to get past New Year’s… especially New Year’s Eve. Stay sane, everyone.

 The last post saw Layton Dunelton, an army brat, going through his usual bout of loneliness when his father is transferred to a different base. A piece of graffiti on the school bathroom stall set him looking for a particular bench in a nearby park where he observed a casual pickup.

This story picks up a week later when he returns to the park bench and spots one of the college kids involved in last week’s tryst. The kid boldly approaches Layton, introduces himself as Ken, and asks what Layton thought about what he saw the previous Monday.

 * * * *


“Uh, like what?”

“Well, what did you think of my bare butt, for one thing?”

“Tried not to think of it at all.” There, that was better. No stuttering that time.

“Tried not to? That means you did. Care to give it a rating?”

“Uh….” Damn, stuttering again. Maybe not stuttering, but pissing around before answering the question. Same thing. “Not that experienced at rating guy’s asses.”

“Don’t give me that. Good-looking, built guy like you? I can tell you’re an athlete. Athletes shower with guys. So you’ve seen plenty of bare, male butts.”

“Guess so.”

“Know so,” he said, clamping onto my thigh above the knee in a macho, goodwill sorta way. But he left his hand there, and it burned like his hip against mine did. I dunno why, but I didn’t push it away. Didn’t do anything.

Ken turned his head to look at me. “Make you curious about anything else?”

“No… uh… I dunno.”

He flashed a smile, making him handsomer than any movie star I’d ever seen… sexier, at any rate. That thought rattled me some, I can tell you.

“Dunno means you’re not closed to the suggestion. But first, maybe you’d like a feel?”

“Feel? W-wha’da ya mean?”

He moved his hand up my leg. “Oh, like this, for example.”

I clamped my legs together, trapping his hand.

“Relax,” he said in a soothing voice.

I did, and his hand went to work. I’ve heard of blind people “seeing with their hands,” and while those chocolate brown eyes weren’t blind, that hand’s examination was so thorough it must have known exactly what I looked like beneath my trousers.

He spread his legs, which pushed his left one hard against my right. “Your turn.”

Like it had a mind of its own, my hand reached out and came to rest on the inside of his thigh. Then it went dumb.

“Go on,” he said. “Take a good feel.”

So after a good look around to make sure nobody was nearby, I did. One touch, and that monster beneath his sweatpants started growing. Before I knew it, I was holding onto a throbbing tube of flesh yearning to be free.

I was gonna let go, but he reached for me again, his arm trapping mine where it was. So help me, this time, I reacted the same way he had. Junior grew and got muscular fast.

“Impressive,” Ken said, giving that loopy grin that made him handsomer than all get out.

“Y-yours too,” I heard my own voice say. Damn, first my hand acted on its own, and now my voice box went independent.

Taking me by surprise, he removed his hand and yanked down his sweatpants, exposing an excited monster. It bobbed around like that blind eye at the tip was hunting for a home.

“Somebody’ll see!” I whispered.

“Nobody around. Take hold of it.”

My hand became animated again and obeyed. Man, talk about hot. It was physically warm. My hand, acting independently again, pumped it a couple of times.

“Feels good, Layton. Feels good. Now yours.”

I’d lost the ability to resist, so I just lay back against the bench and let him do what he wanted. My trousers had a belt, but it didn’t take him any time at all to overcome that obstacle. And just like his, mine bobbed and weaved like it was looking for a fight. His hand around it about sent me out of my senses, especially when that hand started moving up and down. He sighed as I did the same.

“You one good-looking stud,” Ken said, a sigh in his voice.

“Y-you are too. Really handsome. Bet you could have any girl you wanted. Why’d you want me?”

He leaned his shoulder against mine while both our hands worked like crazy. “You’re prettier than any girl I know, Layton. You’re sexier than that guy I met here last week, and he was a real looker, I can tell you.”

“I’m… uh… ah… oh… not.”

Ken stretched his legs. “Oh, but you are. And you’ve got a great touch. Uh-oh. Getting serious here.”

“You… you do too. Serious… over… here too.” My legs spasmed. My belly contracted, and Junior let loose with a gush of hot sperm.

“Atta boy!” he breathed. “Spewed like a volcano! Ungh, oh my. Here… I… come!”

And come he did. For a long time. Forever, it seemed like.

Finally, we both lolled back against the bench breathing heavily. After a minute or so, Ken took out a clean white handkerchief and cleaned me off before tending to himself. I’ll swear that scrap of cloth was sopping wet by the time he finished. As we restored our clothing, he glanced over at me.

“Well, how was it?”


“Your first time… with another guy, I mean?”


“How do you feel about it?”

“How do I feel? Worn out.”

“No regrets? No recriminations?”

“Why would I?”

He shrugged, and although I was sexually sated, I experienced a brief pang of lust. “Some guys feel like it’s wrong, and they’re mortified afterward. Me, I just enjoy the afterglow.”

“Afterglow?” I asked. “Yeah, that’s it. Afterglow.”

“I like you, Layton.”

“Me too. I mean, I like you, Ken.”

“Wanna meet again? Lots of things I can teach you.”

“Better than… you know, what we just did?”

That devastating grin again. “Lots better.”


Seems like the college boy was looking for more than just telling Layton to keep his mouth shut. As a matter of fact…. Well, I won’t say more, because we’ll likely see more of Layton and Ken later.

 As I said in the last post, JMSBooks is bringing out another short story anthology titled Huntinghawk, An Anthology for publication in February of next year. I’ll keep you posted.

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

Website and blog:



X: @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.)

 See you later.



 New posts the first and third Thursday of the month at 6:00 a.m., US Mountain time.

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