Wednesday, August 21, 2013

This weeks prompts:  "Are you hung enough?" or "crazy in love" or use a pickle or have a character dye his or her hair, or "I'll roast you over an open flame if you..." or make a Queen reference or use a lap dance or "desperately seeking... "; or use: parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme (without singing Scarborough Fair lol) or use: "Two's company, but three's..."

There was a glimmer of fear and surprise in Bane's eyes, but it only lasted a moment.  His eyes were the only feature that seemed clear to me in the moonlight coming through the windows of the room.  He finally laughed along with me.  His laughter, however, seemed forced and insecure.
"I'm sorry," I quickly stammered.  "I didn't mean to laugh at you.  I just never had anyone howl at me while having sex before."
"Don't worry about it," he assured me as he leaned back on the headboard and chuckled almost to himself.  "That's just how we do things here in the Gorge." 
I detected that look of fear in his eyes again, but this time it was accompanied by sadness rather than surprise.  I decided it was time to change the subject.  I crawled up his naked body, hovering over him and kissed his full lips once again, feeling myself immediately aroused by his touch.
"I was going to try to find you tomorrow," I said, forcing myself to break the warm wet contact of our mouths, and sat and straddling him.  I could feel his own flesh growing once again as it rose to meet the cleft of my ass.  "I'm glad you found me first."
"Me too," he replied.  The youthful sparkle was returning to his eyes
"I've been curious about your name since you first told me what it was," I ventured.  "I've never known anyone named Bane.  Doesn't Bane mean poison or killer?  Why would parents give that name to a child?"
"My father gave me that name, because he has always blamed me for my mother's death," he explained quietly, and I felt his hardness break a little as his flesh pulled away from mine.  "She died the night I was born."
"I'm sorry."  I felt stupid for asking.  It seemed like every question I asked was like walking through a minefield.
"Don't be sorry," he smiled again.  "It is what it is.  I wish my mother had not died, but as much as I hate to admit it, I find some satisfaction in knowing it hurt and continues to hurt my father."
"That's kind of harsh."  I was once again surprised by this young boy’s bluntness.
"You haven't met my father,” was his simple reply.
Once again, I tried to move the conversation what I thought would be a more neutral subject. "So Mr. Bane Connor, tell me about your Gorge.”
"Trust me, it is not my Gorge," he began somewhat defensively.  "My family may own most of the area, and the town may bear my family name, but it’s not mine.  Sometimes I feel like it owns me more than I own any of it.  That is why I am so ready to get out of here."
"You're eighteen, why don't you just leave?" I asked.
"I just turned eighteen, and it’s not as easy as just leaving.  I started talking about leaving for college a few months ago, and my father told me,  'I'll roast you over an open flame if you ever try to leave.'"
"I've heard of strict parents, but that’s a little extreme," I told him genuinely concerned for this kid.  I was suddenly overcome with a need to protect him, and to get him out of this place no matter what I had to do.
"My entire family is extreme," he stated, but then quickly added, "except my Uncle Jamie.  Uncle Jamie is the only Connor I have ever heard of who has escaped this valley, but even he couldn't stay away forever.  He is trying to help me get out too."
"I'd like to meet your Uncle Jamie."
"I don't think there will be time for you to meet him.  You need to get out of here tomorrow." He informed me, the fear creeping back into his eyes.
"Why does everyone in this town want me to leave?" I asked.  "The hotel manager, who is a little creepy by the way, would only let me have the room for two days.  He made up some excuse about renovation, but it is obvious this place has not been renovated for years."
"Connor's Gorge is no place for outsiders.  It is too long of a story, and one I can't really tell. Just promise me you will leave tomorrow." He looked as if he could start crying at any moment.
"I will make you a deal." I countered, as I ground my ass into his crotch.  "If you will spend the entire day and night with me tomorrow, I will leave first thing the next day.
Bane looks out the window toward the hills, but then he smiles and looks deeply into my eyes.  "Okay, but you have to leave first thing the next morning."
"I will," I promised, unsure if it was a promise I would be able to keep.

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Wednesday, August 7, 2013

This week's prompt is: "Enter at your own risk" or use a viper's next or use a rock n' roll theme or "Wrecked 'em? Damn near killed'em!" or find a creative use for a Sharpie or use a Shar-pei or "In this case, two plus two equals something rotten in the state of Denmark!" or use a fraternal lodge in your story, such as the Elks or the Knights of Columbus or the Fraternal Order of Water Buffalo.

Dillon (3)
After the busses had gone, I decided it was time to do a little exploring.  I wondered what secrets a primitive little town like Connor's Gorge might be hiding.  The only places like this I had ever heard of were sanctuaries for religious fanatics, but thinking back to my drive into town, I did not recall seeing anything resembling a church.  I wanted to take my phone so I could document this strange little town with pictures, but considering the electricity situation, decided to leave it behind.  As I made my way down the creaking steps, I realized I had not eaten anything since this morning.   The low vibrating growl of a small muzzled dog rattled the lining of my stomach as it reminded me I needed to eat.
It was nearing time for the sun to set, but in this deep valley twilight was rapidly giving way to dusk.  A light from the restaurant next to the hotel spilled out onto the dirt road.  I decided if I am going to muffle the sounds from my stomach, this was my best option.  As I opened the door, a tingling sound rang out over my head as a small bell alerted the others of my arrival.  It felt like I have suddenly walked on stage.  There were only four older men sitting at the wooden bar, but they all turned to stare at me when I walked in.  There was no greeting.  They simply stared at me for a few seconds and then silently began concentrating on the plates of food in front of them.
A young girl, not a child, but not yet a teenager came out of the door behind the bar.  She didn’t say anything either, as both eyes widened and she cocked her head to the side with a puzzled look.  She then yelled, "Mom!", and ran back the way she came.  I stood awkwardly in the doorway, unsure what to do next.  The four men continued to eat, shoveling food in their mouths like they are in a race.  A raven haired middle-aged woman entered where the young girl exited.  She wore a plain blue cotton dress and wiped her hands on the yellow apron tied tightly at her waist. 
"Can I help you?" she asked.  It sounded more like a demand than a statement.
"I was hoping to get something to eat," I announced quietly.  I had never walked into a restaurant where I felt it was an imposition to ask for food, but that was exactly how I felt at that moment.
"Well, then," she motioneded at one of the four tables lining the wall the diner shared with the hotel, "I guess you better have a seat."
As I sat in the chair at the nearest table, I heard the clink of silver wear against plates.  I looked over at the four men at the bar as they all stood in unison, sheepishly said, "Goodnight Grace," and made their way to and out the door.  They carefully avoided making eye contact with me as the bell rang, once as they were leaving and once when they were gone.  Grace walked over to where I sat, and placed a brown plastic glass on the table.  She held two pitchers in her hands.
"Tea, water, or I've got some coffee in the back?" she asked.
"Water is fine," I replied.
"Now, if you're looking for a menu, you ain't gonna find one," she said as she filled the glass from the water pitcher.  "I've got six regular customers.  I had seven 'till Old Man Mulligan up and died two weeks ago, but that ain't neither here nor there.  Anyway, my customers eat whatever I be putting on the table for me and the four youngins.  It ain't nothing fancy, but it'll stop the rumblin’ comin’ from your middle.  Tonight we got soup beans, ham and cornbread.  If that ain't to your liking, I got some bread and peanut butter back there.  That's all Lil' Mike seems to want to eat anymore."
"The beans will be just fine, mam."  I don't remember the last time I used the word mam, but it seemed appropriate somehow in this setting.
"You can call me Grace," she announced as she turned around, gathered the four empty plates from the bar and made her way to the back.
The restaurant was the same dark, aged wood as the hotel.  The tables and chairs all looked hand made.  The edges were worn and smoothed from years of use, and the varnish was chipped and scratched away in several places.  Unlike the hotel, everything looked clean and well cared for in the dim light of the oil lamps scattered around the room.  No artwork hung on any of the walls, but several deer heads and antlers adorned the areal over the bar.  Behind the bar, a large mirror covered the wall.  It was speckled with the patina of age.  I could almost picture the drinking and carousing that went on in this room years ago.
Within a few seconds, Grace returned with a plate piled high with white beans, chunks of ham, and two large squares of cornbread.  My mouth filled with saliva at the smell of the steaming hot plate of food. 
"How much do I owe you?" I asked.
"I don't rightly know," Grace responded, looking perplexed.  "Ain't much use for money in this place.  Mr. Connor supplies me with anything I need from the store across the street.  All I got to do is keep this place, and feed any of the workers that comes in.  I ain't never had no outsiders."
"How long have you been running the place?"
"Oh, let me see, now. . ." she trailed off in thought.  ". . .Lil' Mike just turned eight a few weeks ago, and I been running the place since Big Mike got killed in the mines when the baby was just a few weeks old.  I guess I've been doing this a little over seven years now."
"And, you've never had anyone stop in you didn't know?" I asked amazed.
"Outsiders hardly ever come to the Gorge," she stated, and then she looked wearily out the window.  "Them that do come, don't usually stay long enough to eat nothing.  Don't worry 'bout paying nothing tonight.  If you’re back tomorrow we will work something out."
Before I could ask anything else, she quickly made her way back to what I assumed was the kitchen.  The beans were the best I had ever eaten.  The salty ham definitely was not the only seasoning, but I could not put my finger on exactly what was in them.  They had a slight smoky taste that I assumed came from a wood burning stove.  As I sat and shoveled the beans, ham, and cornbread in my mouth, I saw the young girl once again peeking out from the doorway.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"Michelle," she announced timidly as she sheepishly moved up to behind the bar.  "Who are you?"
"I'm Dillon."
"Mamma says you're gonna get yourself killed," Michelle announced.
"Why would she say something like that?" I ask, shocked by her bluntness.
"I don't know," she said matter-of-factly.  "That's just what I heard her say. It's no big deal. People around here get killed all the time.  Daddy got killed.  Mamma always says there should be a sign up by the road that says ‘Connor’s Gorge, Enter At Your Own Risk’"
I sit there, still amazed by this young girl's candor, while she looks out the window with the same wariness her mother had in her eyes earlier.  Then, apparently bored with our conversation she turns and walks back out of the room.
"Leave your dishes on the bar when you're done," Grace calls from the back.
I finish the food in silence, and do as she instructed.  When I leave Grace's place, the little bell seems to echo through the valley.  Exploring will have to wait until tomorrow.  Used to the glow of electric lights, it seems twice as dark as a normal night.  The dark night sky is a patchwork of clouds, and the only light comes from the occasional streaming rays of the Gibbous Moon. 
Bane (5)
I decided not to use the front door as I snuck into the hotel.  Mr. Felts may not be able to climb the stairs, but I did not feel like meeting his shotgun face to face tonight.  I'm sure the only reason he hasn't killed me yet is because I am a Connor.  I know he blames me for Jeremiah, and for the loss of his leg.  I slowly made my way up the steps at the back of the hotel.  They had not been maintained over the years, and a few boards were missing here and there.  I hoped the balcony that overlooked the overgrown courtyard would not be as treacherous. 
Although most of the first floor rooms had occupants it looked like these rooms had not seen anyone for a very long time.  One of the doors hung open on one hinge, and it looked like several different animals had been its only tenants in recent years.  I just hoped I wouldn't encounter any of its residents tonight.  After several minutes of carefully navigating creaking boards and a few holes where planks had rotted or fallen out, I made it to the door which led into the front of the hotel.  As I had hoped, it was not locked, and creaked open at my touch.  Shit, I said softly.  No one could know I was here.
I finally breathed again when I felt the worn carpet beneath my feet and eased the door closed behind me.  I crept up to the door in the corner, but as I expected, it was locked.  I pulled the key out of my pocket, and said a silent prayer that Mr. Felts had not bothered to change the locks.  My brother Colton had stolen one of the master keys back when he was in high school, and he and his friends used to sneak down here all the time.  That was back before Mr. Felts took over running the hotel.  I can't remember the old man's name that was here back then, but he couldn't hear anything.
The key worked, and I quietly slid inside the room.  It was much cooler in here than it had been in the hallway.  There was a cool cross breeze coming in from the two open windows on either side of the bed.  I carefully closed and locked the door behind me, not yet wanting to wake Dillon as he slept in the bed.  Yet again, I removed all of my clothing, letting them fall on the floor just inside the door, and made my way over to the bed.  He looked peaceful as he slept.  The bedspread lay in a pile beside the bed.  In the moonlight I could see the outline of his body underneath the sheet.
I knelt beside the bed, and slowly lifted the edge of the sheet.  I froze as he gently stirred, and remained there until I was sure he was still asleep.  I quickly took him into my mouth, rolling my tongue into the remaining folds of flesh from his circumcision.  He instantly began to harden within me, and I heard him groan as he began coming out of his deep sleep.  By the time he was fully awake, and realized what was happening, he was also fully swollen and hard.  He threw back the sheet, and looked down at me trying to focus on the person between his legs.
"What are you doing here?" he calmly asked.
I allowed him to fall from my mouth to answer, "If you don't know what I'm doing, then we have a problem."
He laughed a sleepy laugh, rubbed his eyes, and then reached down to grab me under both arms.  I was caught off guard by his strength as he easily pulled me up on top of him and pushed his open mouth onto my own. I could taste the sour beginnings of sleep within his mouth, but it was quickly replaced by the sweet saltiness of our tongues activating one another’s glands.  He kept our mouths locked together as he rolled us over with him now on top.  I could feel his hardness as it pressed against my own, and the warm sticky dampness foretelling things to come. He pushed himself up from me breaking the bond we shared.  I felt the night chill as it swept across the flesh he had left bare by his sudden move.  He looked down at me, and simply said, "My turn"
I whimpered and moaned as he took me fully within his mouth.  I could feel the tight wetness of his throat as it expanded to welcome me inside his hunger.  As he pumped his head furiously, tightening and loosening his lips, my back arched as I tried to press myself further within him.  I did not want to be tasted, I wanted to be devoured.  When it came time for my release, I could control myself no longer.  I expected him to fly back from the force of the explosion that had built within me, but he held firm consuming every ounce.
I fell back into the bed, and he sat up looking at me with an amused grin on his face.
"What are you smiling at," I panted.
"You howled," Dillon said laughingly.  "I thought I had seen and heard it all, but I've never had anyone howl before."

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Monday, August 5, 2013



Long and Short Reviews

" pause and try to gather your thoughts because the author took you so far to another place that you have to adjust your mind back to reality..."

Wednesday, July 31, 2013

Sorry for my little hiatus.  The adventures of Bane and Dillon continue this week.  Although this is somewhat of a transitional scene, I hope you enjoy.  I also will seem to have taken a rather liberal interpretation of the prompts, but it will become clearer in the coming weeks.  Don’t forget to check out the other Wednesday Brief’s Flashers at the bottom of the entry.

This week’s prompts:  "If you wish upon a star" and the alternate prompts are:  use pea soup in your story or have your character make some sort of comfort food or "When I'm away from you, I feel..." or use an overdue book fine at the library or  "My .... is bigger than your ..." or "round and round the mulberry bush" or "She slid her thumb gently across my lips and I thought I'd melt" or have your character Google something.

Dillon (2)
After the large man took my ten dollars and gave me a hand written receipt and room key, I made my way up the old wooden steps.  They sang their own song of creaks and groans, muffled by the worn carpet runner which ran down the middle.  At the top of the steps, was a small landing which stretched out over the front desk below.  I turned left, and saw a door set into the corner of the hallway at an angle.  An old wooden number one was nailed to the middle of the paneled door. 
I turned the key in the lock and opened the door.  A blast of stale, musty air that hit me in the face.  Dust swirled in the light streaming through the front window, and a layer of the same dust coated everything in the room.  The queen size bed sat in the corner facing the door.  A faded wilderness print stretched across the spread.  I threw my saddle bag on the bed and opened the windows.  One of the windows overlooked the general store across the dirt road I had ridden in on, and the other looked out at the remaining valley and hills beyond on the other side of the inn.  Some of the staleness in the air was immediately swept out by the cool cross breeze that came in off the river running through the valley.
I plopped down on the bed.  The mattress was unexpectedly comfortable, and had the feel of the old down mattresses my grandmother used to have in her home.  A puff of dust flew up on either side of me, though, as the bed accepted my weight.  I pulled my cell phone out of my bag, and although it still registered the time, which read 5:00, I realized there was no signal.  I powered it down, not knowing when I would have an opportunity to charge it again.  I got back up and pulled the dusty cover off the bed, rolling it up and setting in on the floor.  The tan sheets below seemed much cleaner, and I laid on down, enjoying the fresh air steadily blowing in through the open windows.
* * *
I don't know how long I dozed, but I was suddenly jarred awake by a familiar sound.  Although familiar, it seemed out of place in this quiet valley.  I heard what could only be several large vehicles and a honking horn.  I quickly sat up and looked out the window to see a school bus as it stopped in front of the general store.  Four other busses pulled in behind it.  They had apparently come in from the opposite direction I had traveled earlier.  Some of the young children I had seen earlier came running down the street to meet the busses as they unloaded their passengers.  Several men and boys, ranging from what appeared to be about 12 years old through mid-60s, came streaming from the five busses.  Many still had wet hair, as if they had recently showered.  A few went into the store across the street, but most of them split off in various directions.  I assumed they were heading to the homes I had seen on my way into town.

Bane (4)
I found a t-shirt and a pair of shorts in Uncle Jamie's dryer and put them on. I could smell the deer steaks Uncle Jamie pulled out of the refrigerator before I entered the kitchen.  I could feel my salivary gland kick in as I made the turn into the room.  Uncle Jamie looked up at me approvingly and then I saw the worried look in his eyes I had begun seeing more and more often lately.  It left almost as soon as it came as he simply said, "That's much better.  Now set the table for dinner while I get the steaks on the grill." 
I did as I was told, put the salad on the table, and then followed him outside.  Unlike the town, all of our family homes had all of the modern amenities, including gas and electricity, but Uncle Jamie still preferred to cook on what he called his grill outside.  It was a large circle of stones he had set and mortared about eight feet in diameter and four feet high.  He did not use charcoal, but rather wood from the woodpile he kept piled next to it.  Chopping down trees and splitting the wood was one of the ways he and Uncle Kevin kept their muscled upper bodies.  I had seen him roast an entire deer on his grill, but tonight it was just the three large steaks.
"Uncle Kevin's coming," I announced as I heard the four wheeler in the distance.
"Yes," Uncle Jamie said, giving me that look again, "I hear him."
We stood in silence for a few moments, concentrating on the sizzling meat upon the grill.  Uncle Jamie flipped them once, and starting placing them on the platter just as Uncle Kevin came riding over the hill.  Uncle Kevin is about ten years younger than Uncle Jamie.  He is actually closer to my age than Uncle Jamie's.  It would kill me if I ever thought he or Uncle Jamie had any idea how many times I had masturbated to fantasies about him over the past few years.  I was about six when Uncle Jamie came back to the Gorge, and brought Uncle Kevin with him.
I had heard my dad and some of my uncles talk about Uncle Jamie, and how he had left the Gorge a few years before.  They seemed glad he had left, and they were not happy when he came back.  No one knew they were coming.  I was sitting on the front porch of the big house when they arrived. 
A truck, I had never seen before, pulled up in front of the house.  A man, who looked a lot like my father got out of the driver’s side.  He was at least half a foot taller than my dad's six feet, and had his red hair cut in a low flat top.  He wore a bright blue tank top, and I wondered if his large muscled arms would fit in a shirt with sleeves.  His large chest and tight stomach could easily be seen through the thin material of the shirt, and his cargo shorts revealed legs like tree trunks.  His entire body and face was covered the same red hair.
The other man who got out of the truck was built similarly to the first, but stood about eight inches shorter and was leaner.  His dark chocolate skin was the first I had ever seen, and his close-cut hair was the color of the coal in the mines.  When he looked over to where I sat and smiled, I thought to myself I had never seen a smile so beautiful.  His deep brown eyes seemed to smile right along with his mouth.  The red head told him to stay at the truck and made his way toward the house.  I was frozen to the steps, immediately infatuated with these beautiful strange men.  The red-head patted my head as he made his way up the steps to the house.
"You must be Bane," he said, "I'm your Uncle Jamie."      
My aunts took me and all of the cousins to Uncle Terry's house that evening, but three of us snuck out and went back to the big house to see what was going on.  My dad, all of my uncles, Grandpa Connor, his brothers, and Great-Grandpa Connor were all in the big living room.  We had to hide in the bushes about twenty feet from the house, but we could still hear them inside.  It seemed like everyone was talking and yelling at once.  Then I heard Great-Grandpa's voice above all the others as he almost growled at them to stop.  Everything got very quiet.  I don't know what happened next, but a few minutes later they all started coming out of the house.
My cousins and started running back to Uncle Terry's house, but the next thing I knew, someone grabbed the back of my shirt and yanked me up.  It was my father.  I immediately knew by the look in his eyes I was in trouble.  They were almost tinted red with anger.  He threw me to the ground and yelled at me to get my brothers and get home.  I did as I was told, and slowly shuffled home to the big house, dreading what was to come.  When I got there, Uncle Jamie and Kevin had moved into one of the extra rooms, and dad was nowhere around.  Nothing else was ever said about that night.  A few of my uncles and Grandpa helped Uncle Jamie and Kevin build their house, and they moved out of the big house after a few months. 
* * *
Uncle Kevin pulled his four wheeler up to the house, shut it off, and jumped off.  He met Uncle Jamie and I as we were about to go back inside the house with the deer steaks.  He grabbed Uncle Jamie around the waist as Uncle Jamie handed me the platter and leaned down to kiss Kevin tenderly on the mouth.
"Those look great," Kevin said as he looked at the platter.  "I'm starving."
"You're always starving," Uncle Jamie joked as we made our way inside.
We each sat in our usual places around the table as I put the steaks on each of our plates. 
"It seems we have a visitor to the Gorge," Kevin announced.
"Really?" Uncle Jamie asked.
"When I was dropping the men off in town this evening, there was a motorcycle parked outside the inn, and a young man was watching us from one of the windows."
I tried to keep the look of surprised excitement off my face.  I knew it had to be Dillon, the guy from the quarry this afternoon.  It seemed I would see him again, after all.

Check out these other Wednesday Briefs' Flashers.

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Wednesday, June 12, 2013

I realize I am a little late posting this week (Hey, it's still Wednesday), and yes I have taken the past two weeks off.  Life happens...we will leave it at that.  Hope you enjoy the latest installment, and will check out the other flashers--links follow.

This weeks prompts: “The game is afoot!” or “Feet don’t fail me now” or feat of strength or alligator, clip, residue or use a storm in some way or “You are the wind beneath my wings” or “Come sail away” or “Please pass the…” or find a creative use for mayonnaise or make a My Favorite Martian reference.

Bane (3)
"I see you've been to the quarry again," Uncle Jamie said as I walked through the kitchen door.
He stood at the sink washing lettuce he had probably gathered that morning from his garden.  I plopped down on the barstool beside the island in the middle of the kitchen floor.  "What makes you say that?"
Uncle Jamie does not respond.  He simply rolls his eyes as he looks at my naked body from head to foot.  "If you expect to eat dinner here, you better go put some clothes on, young man.  Kevin will be home soon, and I don't need him staring at you all night."
I reluctantly gave in, and headed to the laundry room off the kitchen.  Although I officially lived in the big house over the hill, I spent more and more time at Uncle Jamie's.  I felt more comfortable sleeping on his couch than I did in my own room. Uncle Jamie was one of the only members of my family to actually get out of this place for a time, and secretly he was helping me get out as well. He had always been my favorite uncle, and it was Uncle Jamie I ran to the night my brothers found me in the barn with the Felts boy three years ago.
* * *
Everyone in Connor's Gorge works for my family in one way or another.  All of the "able bodied" men and boys work in the coal mines my family has owned for over a hundred years.  Most of the families live in the gorge, and the buses travel from the mines every morning to pick them up, and then again at night to drop them off.  There are those who are allowed to remain in Connor's Gorge if they are unable to work in the mines, but they are a few.  Jeremy Felts was one of those few.
My father had been best friends with Jeremy's dad when he was growing up. Jeremy was born blind, and the Felts feared what Grandpa Connor would do.  Dad persuaded Grandpa Connor to save a place for him to work, taking care of the horses when he was old enough.  Jeremy was three years older than me, and I never understood why people always looked at him with such disgust. No one saw any reason for Jeremy to attend school. There was no one in the Gorge who could read or teach him braille, and Grandpa wasn't going to allow a teacher to come from the outside.
Jeremy moved into a small room at the back of the barn when he was ten.  He would spend his days with Mister Jake, the man who took care of all the animals. Jake's wife would fix Jeremy meals, but they did not want him in their home. I never really noticed Jeremy, although I spent a great deal of time playing and hanging out around the barn when I was younger.  He was always around, quietly doing his work, but I never took much notice of him.  When I was fourteen that changed.
It was a hot summer day, and I was headed to the quarry for a swim.  I went down to the barn to get my horse, and was greeted by a shirtless Jeremy.  I had noticed my attraction to men growing for the past couple years, and had played around some with a few of my cousins, but this was the first time I felt feelings this strong.  I started hanging out around the barn more and more that summer. I would lay on a blanket in the hay loft, and read to him from my text books while he worked.  He would quietly listen, and occasionally ask me questions, but nothing sexual happened between us for almost two years.  I attempted to initiate things with him occasionally, but he would politely shut me down.  Jeremy always made me go home before Jake's wife dropped his dinner off at the barn.
An unseasonably warm spring evening toward the end of March, the horses started acting up.  No matter what Jeremy did, they would not settle down.
"What's wrong with them?" I asked.
"I don't know," he replied, "It could be the full moon, or maybe there is a storm coming."
I helped him secure the horses in their stalls, and calm them down.  By the time we had them settled, we could hear a strong wind rattling the tin shingles of the barn. As I opened the barn door to head up to the house, the wind caught it and blew it out of my hand.  Jeremy heard the door bang against the side of the barn along with my scream of surprise, and before I knew it was pressed up against me as we struggled with the barn door. It felt like someone was hurling buckets of ice water at us, as a mixture of rain and hail began to fall.  We finally got the door closed, and Jeremy pulled the crossbar down to latch it. 
The horses were kicking at their stalls once again.  The staccato of the ice and rain against the tin roof, accented by the cracks and rumble of thunder outside made it almost impossible to hear. We both continued to work at keeping the horses calm, until finally the noises of the storm outside began to die down.  The temperature in the barn had dropped by at least twenty degrees, and I began to shiver.  I suddenly realized it had also become very dark within the old wooden structure, when I stubbed my toe on something.
"Shit," I exclaimed, "I can't see anything."
"Oh my God," I heard Jeremy exclaim, "neither can I."
I felt him put his arm around my waist as we laughed, and could feel him shivering, as well. Although the storm had died down, a steady rainfall could still be heard.
"You’re soaking wet." Jeremy noticed, and began guiding me through the barn with his arm still around my waist.  I could tell we were moving in the direction of his room at the back of the barn.  When we got to the room, he opened the door and led me over to the small twin-size bed.
"Take of your clothes and sit on the bed.”
"I never thought you'd ask," I joked as I did what he had instructed.  I had been here many times, and fantasized about being naked in this room with him almost daily.  It added to my excitement to realize in this darkness I was almost as blind as him. Somehow, it equalized us even more.
These days, my dick seemed to stay hard all the time, and it was so rigid, at that moment, it was almost painful.  I shuddered as he sat beside me.  The brush of his bare flesh against my own was almost more that I could take as he wrapped a wool blanket around us.  He scooted close against me, and I could feel the hardness of his muscles and the softness of his skin at every point where it contacted mine.  I shuddered again as precum wet the tip of my cock.
"Are you still cold?" he asked as he tightened the blanket around us.
I could not answer.  Words would not form behind the sudden cotton like feeling drying my mouth.  I bravely reached out my hand under the blanket and felt for warmest spot between Jeremy's legs.  He was hard as well.  He whimpered as I traced the great length of it with my fingers, and groaned when I wrapped my hand around its base.
"No one has ever touched me there before," he said in almost a whisper.
I was still shivering from head to toe, but I wasn't cold any longer.  I refused wait for another opportunity.  In one quick move, I dropped down to the saddle blanket on the dirt floor that served as a rug, spread his knees apart and buried his cock within my hungry mouth.  It was clumsy and quick, but I will never forget that first and last taste of Jeremy Felts.  My own dick spasmed and spattered the floor.  As we simultaneously exploded in his room, there was a huge cracking noise from the front of the barn.  I wondered if a tornado had hit as I was violently ripped up from between Jeremy's legs.
I only realized my eyes had been shut, when I opened them to see my brother, Jason's, angry face.  It was he who had grabbed me and pulled me away from Jeremy.  He now tossed me to the dirt floor. The storm had apparently passed, because moonlight came through the shattered doors, lighting the entire barn.
"Get your ass up to the house!" Jason yelled.
I knew that neither my brothers nor my father had ever liked me, but in that moment, I saw hatred in Jason's eyes.  I scrambled to my feet and looked back toward Jeremy's room.  I saw a glimpse of my oldest brother Colton through the door, heard Jeremy scream, a loud thump, and then silence.  Like a coward, I turned and ran from the barn.  I did not run home.  I ran straight to Uncle Jamie's.

Sunday, May 19, 2013

Wednesday, May 15, 2013

Welcome back.  If you are looking for "heat", I am afraid you might be disappointed this week, but I must go where the characters take me.  Enjoy, and don't forget to check out the other flashers--links are at the bottom of the post.

This weeks prompts:  "He's staying with..." or show one of your MC's as disappointed or use: pizza, frigid, date.  Or: sex on a carousel or use a key party or use leftovers in an interesting way.  Use a cardinal - either the bird or the cleric.

Dillon (1)

I stood there for a few seconds watching the jeep's dust trail, before whatever spell he had cast was broken.  I looked down and realized I was standing in the middle of a wide open area, in God knows where Kentucky, on someone's private property in nothing but my birthday suit.  My bike and clothes were over a hundred yards away across the quarry, and I heard the distinct sound of several ATV's somewhere in the distance.  I quickly put aside my disappointment about the brevity of our encounter, and ran back into the water. The rocks felt like they would cut and bruise the bottoms of my feet until I was deep enough to lunge toward the other shore. The muscles in my legs and arms burned as I arrived back at my bike, and quickly put my clothes on.  I never saw the riders of the ATV's, but I could tell they were closing in on the quarry as I started the bike and fled down the overgrown road I had come in on.
Within minutes, I was back on the winding main road travelling deeper into the Appalachians that rose higher and higher around me.  The woods on both sides of the narrow two lane road were so thick, I wondered what other secrets might lie behind the overgrown brush.  About two miles down the road, I noticed an old metal sign, riddled with bullet holes and barely hanging onto an old fence post.  It pointed to the left, and in faded white paint announced, "Connors Gorge 5 Miles".  The intersection was hidden by a sharp turn in the road, and was almost as overgrown as the old access road to the quarry.
I pulled my bike over and debated whether or not to venture down the gravel road or continue the way I had been heading this morning. Were the nervous flutterings in my stomach a warning, or a tug on the strings of attraction that had somehow attached themselves to this mysterious kid from Kentucky?  What the hell, this was why I set forth on this cross country drive to begin with--something different, something unexpected
I slowly made my way down the road.  It had not been grated or seen new gravel in quite some time.  A canopy of trees spread over it at times blocking out the sun entirely.  I could smell the stream that cut through the mountain beside me before I saw it.  The road curved sharply and began a steep descent down into a valley.  The bluffs of the mountain rose up beside me, and I had to navigate large rocks that had fallen and been left in the road.  When was the last time someone drove through here, I wondered.  On my other side, the road suddenly fell off, and I could hear the rush of water below me.  The temperature seemed to drop the further I descended into the valley.
It seemed I had travelled much further than five miles before the road finally leveled off.  I could hear the sounds of water getting louder, and as I turned another sharp corner I discovered the source.  What I had thought to be a creek appeared more like a river in front of me.  Hints of peeling green paint speckled the rusted steel trusses of the old narrow bridge.  I hesitated for a moment, questioning the stability of the weathered wooden slats that provided the decking of the bridge, but continued on.  I had come too far to turn back now.  The clattering and creaking of the bridge mixed with the roar of the rushing water below added to my anxiety, and I felt myself relax when I had reached the other side.
As I turned alongside the bluff on this side of the river and continued to follow the road down the side of the mountain, I could see the source of the water's roar.  Twenty yards from the bridge, the water suddenly dropped off the side of the mountain.  Through the trees, I could also make out what must be Connors Gorge speckling the valley below.  I continued to descend the mountain, until finally the road leveled off again.  This time, when I emerged from the dense woods, the town spread out before me.
It was like I had been transported back in time.  The road, although gravel, was much more maintained as I travelled, what I assumed was Main Street, although there were no street signs of any kind.  An old mill was the first building with a large water wheel scooping up buckets of water from the river beside it.  As I drove by the small stick frame houses, with their faded clapboard siding, several women stepped out on their porches and watched as I drove by.  A few children played outside, and they too stopped what they were doing and watched me pass by.  Although I waved to them as I went, they simply stared as if they had not seen an outsider in years, if at all.
I quickly arrived in "downtown", feeling people's eyes on me at all times.  Although I spotted a few four-wheelers around, I did not see any cars or trucks, other than what looked to be a 1950's model ford pick-up rusting behind one of the homes.  The four buildings which made up the town were built right next to the road, with raised wooden decking serving as a sidewalk.  The largest structure was about a hundred yards long and took up the entire left-hand side of the town.  It was a rustic bsrn-like building on a concrete slab, and had a rusted metal roof.  The sign that hung above the doors read "Connor Company Store".  Directly across the street were two one-story buildings and a large two-story structure.  As I read the faded paint on their own signs, I saw the smallest of the three was the post office. The larger building in the middle was the Connor CafĂ©.  The two story building had a faded red cut out of the Kentucky state bird, hanging from a pole above the door, reading Cardinal Inn.  It was at this third building, that I pulled my bike up to the wooden walkway, and went inside.
A rusty iron bell rang over my head as I closed the door behind me. 
"You kids best get out uh here 'fore I get my gun," came a voice from the doorway behind the counter.  I could hear the creak and scraping of chair legs on a wooden floor, and decided I should announce myself before I being greeted by the aforementioned gun.
"Hello," I called out as I walked up to the worn wooden counter.
The shuffling and scraping wood against wood became louder until a large man filled up the doorway.  He must have been at least six foot seven, and four hundred pounds.  He wore a threadbare pair of bib overalls and a stained white t-shirt.  The left leg of the overalls was tied in a knot where his knee should have been, and he leaned on a home-made wooden crutch as he shuffled to the counter.  He lay the crutch across the counter and lowered himself heavily upon the stool behind the counter.
"Who are you?" came the curt question from the massive man.
"My name is Dillon Michaels," I replied as I extended my hand, which he ignored.
"What do you want?"
I awkwardly withdrew my extended hand, "I was hoping you might have a room available."
He did not look at the line of dusty keys hanging on the metal hooks beside the counter, or the old composition book on the counter, that I assumed contained the names of past guests, but rather he reached over and flipped the pages on the calendar hanging on the wall.  It still displayed March, although we were now in early June.  After consulting the calendar, he announced, "I guess I got a room you can use for the night."
"I was hoping to go ahead and pay for a week."
He looks back at the calendar, "Two nights, then you gotta be out."
Why?" I questioned.
He looked confused by my question, and then shrugged, "Remodeling."
"Alright, two nights, I guess," I agree, although I didn’t believe him for a minute.  That give me plenty of time to find Bane again.
He grabbed a key from the hooks on the side, and an old oil lamp from under the counter.  I looked questioningly at the lamp. 
"We ain’t got no electricity, if that's what you's expecting," he announced as he put a book of matches beside the lamp.  "The room is the first one on the left at the top of the stairs.  The outhouse is out back, and I can have Vera heat up some water later if you's expecting a hot bath."
"Uh, that's alright," I responded, trying to get over the shock and thinking about the swim in the quarry earlier.

"That'll be ten dollars cash, and make sure you get outta here before dark day after tomorrow.  That road you came in on gets dangerous after dark.”