This is an excerpt from my memoirs. If it didn't really happen this way then perhaps it should have.


Spring and Summer came and went. The troop prospered, summer camp was good but nothing to write home about. It was August, a year had passed since Pauli's invitation to hike with him and his dad, or maybe him alone, before I was able to take him up on it. A one-day adventure in town, right under the noses of the neighbors. Pauli and his older brother Wally would typically do this hike several times a Summer before his brother had started working. The boy's father didn't want him doing it alone and so he hadn't since last year. At their own camp they would live for days with nothing on, the whole family: two boys, a younger sister and both parents. Their friends and children who visited would leave their cloths in their car; Pauli missed that time.

"That's too bad," I said to him as we drove in my little bug through some back streets in a part of town I hadn't yet explored, "not that you miss those times you understand, but that they are gone and cannot last forever. That's the price you pay for growing up."

"That's why I invited you," he said, "I want to be like you and never grow up."

We drove into a small dirt turn-out in the sharp left turn of Baldwin Street where it cut a deep notch in the corner of the town forest. It was late morning of a sunny day, the woods were hot and dusty and the bugs were hiding in the shade. Mosquitoes find you by sensing the difference between you and the air; they wouldn't find us today. There was another car just pulling in beside us. Pauli and I already had our shirts off as the family of four; kids, mum, dad, plus the family dog, unloaded a picnic pack and got themselves together.

"My dad would let us off here, just me and Wally with nothin' on even as we got out of the car. We would run into the woods and he would drive around to the other end to meet us. It's only about a mile in a straight line; maybe a mile and a half. Sometimes we could just trot right through and get there almost as soon as he did, sometimes it would take longer if we had to get around anyone else. It really sharpens your senses to hike nude with not even any shorts in your hand to put on if you need to. I call this my ultimate skysuit hike."

"What is your plan for us?" I asked, "And what about those people?"

He was bent over untying his plimsolls . When he sat up and kicked them away he shook his blond curls back from his forehead; sweat ran in the dust on his chest and made black lines in the creases of his tummy. "The kids are making enough noise that we could probably run right past and they wouldn't notice. We won't get that close. They'll go to the picnic place and we'll go around to the other gate. We tag the other gate, ya hafta tag up OK? and then come back maybe through the picnic place maybe not. Think you can do it?"

"All that with nothing on?"

"Kee-rect! You got it! Nothing. Not even that bandanna around your neck. Once we get started we don't talk, just listen, unless we lie down in the leaves and whisper. The idea is to tag the other gate and get back without getting caught."

"What if we get caught?"

"My dad will find out I came here and he won't let me come with you again I suppose. I dunno. I'll probly get my ass whipped. You might even go to gaol. Even though your head ain't growed up the rest of you is and that's what the cop's gonna see."

"Your dad doesn't know your here? "

"He knows that I'm on a dayhike with you and that we'll probly stop for an ice-cream on the way back and that we'll not be leaving town.   I won't have to lie to him cause he won't ask the right questions," he went on, as if anticipating my concern, "I think inside he knows but he don't want to know he knows cause then he'll have to tell me not to. So we just don't get caught."

I turned the bug around so the doors would give us better protection to hide behind. Pauli was standing in the dirt ready to go and I asked him if it was OK that I wear the key.

"Key?" he repeated, bending to see what I was talking about. "Ya that's OK so long as its not so big you can hide behind it. That wouldn't be fair to me."

I hung the key round my neck, locked my door, and slid over to his side to get out, leaving my shorts and plimsolls on the floor beside his. We ran side by side in under the trees. The heat was hot and the ground was dry and ahead we could see the family group. If they had turned around they could have seen us, but as I quickly realised, it would have been difficult for them to tell anything about us. You can tell when people have cloths on easily enough because of the typical difference in colours. It's not so easy to know when a body is nude unless the light is good and pubic hair shows. Pauli needn't worry about that yet and mine was still pretty light.

We walked slowly, Pauli leading, I looking over my shoulder. If your moving at a good pace you need not worry about being overtaken. The biggest risk is coming upon people resting by the trail. Most people hike in piles and make lots of noise; there is plenty of time to hide. Our family group turned off to the picnic place and we walked past silently before they were barely an arms length away. All their attention was on the dog and the kid chasing the dog. Ultimate Skysuit hiking was an exhilarating experience. An eye opener for me, and an ear opener too. I became aware of sounds in the still, quiet wood I hadn't heard before. I could hear that father and mother talking for a long way down the trail. Pauli held up a hand and we stopped.

He pointed and through the wood I could hear other voices coming along an adjoining path. The boy motioned and we slipped into the woods and sat down to wait. If they went on to the far gate we would follow; if they came this way we were already hidden and would wait. They went and we followed. It was pretty neat that Pauli got to within fifty feet before standing still by the side of a tree whilst the two guys ahead of him pee'd on either side of the trail. I had stayed back deeper in the shadow and when I got to where I thought he was he wasn't. I looked around and he was behind me. Got to be more careful I thought, or this elf will spook me right out of my skin.

We walked along in silence and came to the far gate; halfway, tag up and run for home. I turned and there not two hundred feet back just coming round a corner was a party of several people. We were back lit by the bright sky so I knew they could see only shadows but where were we to go. The forest was open hard wood here and we had not time to go far enough into it before they closed the gap. Pauli grabbed my hand and we ducked under the gate and ran around the boundary hedge to the left. Thirty - forty feet down we wiggled under the hedge into the mould of last years oak leaves. As those people went out we went back in and came along the inside of the hedge to watch them. Pauli still hadn't said a word when we turned and headed back down the path into the wood. He led me down the side path the two men had come from and I figured we were headed for the picnic place. The forest here was thick with low growth and we were able to crouch from bush to bush and pass by not fifty feet from the family.

I watched a small boy watch Pauli but my nude guide knew it and he froze until the small boy lost interest and turned away. We were well past when we heard the little kid tell his mother he saw a naked boy in the woods. He pointed to where we had been. An older boy ran to look, the dog followed and the father called the kid back. It might be an animal of some sort the grown-up said, be careful. The boy, not one to take risks nor misbehave, turned back, but their mutt had our scent.

We were in a good thicket and had to wait until their attention span ran out so Pauli motioned that we lie down. I did, on my front to watch the family, Pauli laid on his back, his head on my ass, "Wake me when its over." he whispered. The dog loped into the thicket and started to lick Pauli. The boy wiggled against me and stifled a giggle. Finally he bopped the dog on its nose at the same time the older boy started calling for it and the dog left us.

With their attention back on the dog and their youngest kid wandering off in the other direction it was time for us to move. Pauli's pecker was stiff from the dog's attention to it and for a second I wondered if the dog got the same pleasure I would from licking that cock. We crawled slowly away and regained the trail. The rest of the hike was uneventful right to the end where I shook Pauli's hand and put on my shorts. "Ice-cream!" he said.
 
 

  Dear Dave,

I had originally set out to record this storey when I discovered the previous one from a few weeks ago as yet unsent. Now you have that, I can get on with this.

Today it is raining at Mile 99. My bus might be in danger of sinking into the mud, she is listing a bit to port.

But this tale is all about yesterday. Only yesterday and already it seems unbelievable even as the boy with no arms is still asleep in my bed.

Yesterday was a fine day. There was a seminar on GeoCaching in the morning. After that, some lunch and a nap were in order before I went out hunting for a cache. An unusually fine slumgullion put the cap on all that and I was just standing around chatting with another nude-cacher when another ham insinuated himself and asked if anyone had some silicone grease. I said I did and he was surprised. He'd been just about all around the group asking and I was the first to reply in the affirmative. Well, he said he'd send his boy around for it later so I tied up the conversation and headed back to untangle La Gata and find my desert.

Presently there came a timid knock upon my door. It is hard when confronted by certain disturbing sights to retain one's composure, to not stare, to not ask what happened. The boy was, how shall I say this... Good looking, tight curly reddish-orange hair, well tanned or dark skinned; hard to believe he could be his father's son. He resembled the boy in my stained glass window except he had hooks, claws, protheses, on both arms. I maintained eye contact--just as one might when meeting a nudist--whilst he introduced himself, said his father sent him to get some grease and to be sure it said silicone. I held the little plastic tube out to him so he could read the lable--couldn't be more than an ounce, one of those white plastic tubes you get with an Andrews microwave hardline connector. He took it with a click of claw then with a nod and a thanks skipped away.

Later came and went. It was getting on toward dusk. I was sitting on the couch sipping tea when another knock came. Not quite so timid this time. La Gata was on her tether and I could see without moving much that it was that boy at the door so I hollered: --Come!

It was with almost a whisper that he said, I wish I could, more to himself than to me I am sure. He stepped in and asked if I had on any clothes and before I could reply said he didn't mind if not. Well, I thought with my shirt half over my head, let's see where this goes and threw it back on the pile. The boy was by now standing on the bridge, slightly relaxed with slender weight more on his right leg, right arm akimbo, left claw on the back of the navigator's chair.

--What does that sign on your door, where it says "Clothing Optional" mean, really? Can I be naked in here if I want to?

--You can if you may and you may if can, I said without thinking.

--I used to go skinnydipping a lot with my friends, he said, but now...

He looked at his hands, where his hands should be, and looked back at me. --I'm 13 years old and I still need help getting my clothes on and off.

It was as if he was asking for help. I asked him if he wanted to talk about it and he said no he just wanted to be nude for a while, to remember. To be nude with someone else for a while. He stood there for a moment longer and so I asked him if he wanted me to help. His head nodded slowly as he grabbed at the hem of his shirt and pulled it up over his head. The shirt caught on the buckles of his appliance straps but he wiggled out of it ok. Then the hooks went into the waistband of his shorts and he pulled them down and stepped out.

Naked but for the leather and iron, he stood there for the inevitable inspection before finally saying that this was where he needed help, getting all these straps off his back. You know, I said, some folks into S'n'M like to wear leather and chains. He smiled at the irony of my joke; nobody had ever said that to him before. I unbuckled where he said and lifted away the prostheses. His forearms were cut off above the wrist and the stumps looked raw, as if it was not all that long ago, but he didn't want to talk about it. He just wanted to be nude and close to someone else.

I pulled him into a hug and kissed his forehead.

We sat side by side on the couch for a while, taking turns reading, talking about ham radio--he was planning to upgrade from tech to general at the tests tomorrow--and finally getting around to all the things he missed being able to do, and some of the things he could do better. His bike had special clamps on the handle bars. For swimming he had paddles that fitted on his stumps. Writing was hard, typing was one key at a time, masturbation was impossible.

--I know, he said, that nudists aren't supposed to play up the link between naked and sex but there's not much else that a 13 year-old boy really wants to do you know; its just about impossible to beat off when you can't make a fist. His penis had begun to stiffen as he warmed to the subject and he showed me how he could just about grasp it between his forearms.

He looked at me. This is what he wanted help with. What's a boy to do when he needs so badly to get off? What's a man to do when a boy comes asking for help? --Do you need a hand with that, I asked?

 
 

--Hi! My name's Jacob. I live in that fifth-wheel over there and my dad said you're a cool guy and maybe even a wizard and that you could teach me some things that he can't.

And that is the way I met this green-eyed sprite. I'd been watching him for a couple of days now, trying not to stare but at the same time standing close around the fires he'd build in the evening. Kevin used to do that too--build the evening campfire--but he would do it nude and then stand around toasting marshmallows with me until the torture of being hot from the fire on one side and cold from the night on the other would drive us back to the bus to cuddle under the blankets and sip Sleepytime tea and tell each other storeys. This boy, Jacob, mostly wore clothes. Well, have to admit I was wearing clothes from time to time outside this week. It would be a good time to fly kites but this time I have no boy to fly them with.

Now I am nude, answering his knock on my door, and he is wearing shorts and a wool jumper. The wind is blowing chill so I invite him in. We are out in the desert, way out, beyond the last of the clothes minded campers, at a gathering of naturists. Some of these folks live here all Winter, most are here only for this week. Jacob's family consists of two parents and an older sister. The kids are home schooled as they travel around the country and for the most part have only each other as peer-friends.

We sat at my table and had tea and talked at length about what he already knew besides how to build a fire. He told me about the travels of his family. I told him a little about Kevin and our travels and showed him some pictures. It occured to me then that all of the pictures I have of Kevin there are none when he is clothed. I guess that is partly cos I only took pictures of him when he was naked but it is also cos that was the way he mostly was. Jacob picked up on that as well: --Didn't this kid ever wear anything more than hat and sandals? When he went with you did he ride naked then too?

I told Jacob that Kevin once said he didn't need an excuse to get naked, he needed a reason to get dressed. Most often the only reason good enough was when he had to go to school. I told him about the time we spent an hour wandering around in a Toys-R-Us totally nude under our long tee-shirts; barefoot even.

--My dad said he saw you here a couple of years ago with a boy that he said was maybe your grandson. He said there are some things a father just doesn't teach his son and so you'd probly know how to teach me all those things.

--And what do you suppose those subjects are?

He lowered his voice... --I dunno... sex maybe? What else is there a 13 year-old should know that his father won't teach him? I don't have much opportunity to learn some things from other kids and I've been asking a lot of questions lately. My sister's getting her periods now, has been for a few years for that matter. We used to sleep in the same bed but now we mostly don't. And I'm getting into puberty, I know that from things I read, but there's lots you can't read anywhere except for porn.

I asked him what sort of porn he read and how it affected him. He replied, once again in a quiet voice, that that was part of his problem. He'd discovered pictures on the internet, and storeys. On Nifty. Storeys about men and boys. Things he dreamed about. Wet dreams. Exciting dreams. --Do boys really do those things? With men?

Oh Man, I'm thinking, is this a setup or what? I asked him how old he was, really. I mean, you're not eighteen posing as a thirteen trying to trap me are you? What can you do to convince me? May I talk to your dad? We have a few days yet, most of another week, perhaps we can get better acquainted and then I will see what I can show you.

All the next day Jacob was nude as he went about his chores and the group activities and games. I knew he was trying to emulate the pictures he'd seen of Kevin and I was hard put not to let him show me up. It was cool and sunny and enough breeze to fly a kite. In the morning we had a seminar on the subject of GeoCaching. There were three demo caches to look for and as most of the people paired off in husband/wife teams I took the opportunity to team with Jacob. We found all three quickly by running through the desert whilst most of the others took their cars to drive around on the road. At one point we had to cross the highway. Jacob remembered lines from a storey about just that sort of thing: a man and a boy running along nude and having to cross a road. I've dreamed about doing this, he said. This is cool. We're invisible when we're naked, he said, right?

After lunch we flew kites and after that we went each to our homes for supper. --Did I do ok for getting better acquainted?  Thanks for being on my team, he said, we really beat the pants off those other teams.

Later, after the early dark of this time of year had settled, I went out to the fire. Not withstanding what a kid trying to suck up to me might or might not be wearing I wore my short wool tunic. It is made from an almost felted old blanket. Dense and warm, I made it my Self with an industrial grade sewing machine. Jacob was nude, standing close to the fire, turning around every minute or so to cook the other side of his cold body. He let me know I'd lost the game. --What game, I said.

--The game to see which of us could stay naked longest, he proclaimed as he dived into a fleece one piece suit.

After the marshmallows were gone and some of the other folks had drifted away I was standing by the fire with his dad talking about home schooling and RV problems. The boy moved around the fire, poking at his creation, moving the wood, adding a log, scraping the scraps together, and ending up standing beside me. Close. I could feel his presence and then I could feel his cold hand on my nates. Augh! He squeezed and then stepped away. His father looked past me at the smiling imp of his son.

--I see Jacob has taken a liking to you. I was hoping you would be able to answer his questions, show him whatever it is he wants to learn. He's usually rather bashful when it comes to getting acquainted with strangers; he does not get much opportunity to form any lasting bonds with friends, peer or elder. But he seems to have hit it off with you, I hope you don't mind.

--While we're on that subject, I said, may he go for a longish walk with me tomorrow. Maybe even a bike ride and then a walk. Has he been to the petroglyphs and caves yet? They're about two miles west of here.

I'd barely finished my second breky when a nude Jacob was banging on my door. Water bottle, lunch, hat, sandals. We carried shorts and shirts just in case but this morning was warm enough to start the way we were. GPS and camera were also in my saddlebag. Once he understood how it worked I fitted the GPS to Jacob's bike and he led off to find the route west. The first waypoint is a culvert that carries a dry river under the highway. It is nearly tall enough that we can walk through. Waiting in the mesquite along the river bank for a break in the traffic was the first chance to talk since the ride started. Like most boys I lead on this sort of adventure he was concerned that someone might see him. We tried to discuss what was really at issue--being naked, getting seen, getting seen naked, being ashamed, being fearful... But the break came and we dashed ahead. At the west side of the culvert there was still no traffic and so we were able to continue. The dry river is the most direct approach to the petroglyph area as that is at the confluence of this river and another, however it is hard to ride a bike in the soft sand and the river bed is also prone to use by ATVers. Some areas offer no escape routes so we left the bed and rode through the bush, on and off tracks, in and out of gullies, weaving between mesquite and saguaro.

After most of an hour we arrived at the closest point to the petroglyphs where we could leave the bikes in seclusion. From there it is a bit of a walk to explore the caves and glyphs along the steep banks where the river has cut its way into the lava and sandstone desert. The place is rather fascinating to begin with and all the more so when the observer is dressed as we were since being nude gives one a better feel for the people who once lived here. Being nude also heightens one's sensitivity to the surroundings and helps keep one aware of the location of the clothes minded. We had the whole place to ourselves. The caves are mostly small open pockets. Wind caves in the sandstone or bubbles in the lava. In some of the caves there are metates where natives ground corn when water flowed in the river. The glyphs are concentrated on one rough wall above the now dry bed of the river. We viewed them for a while, taking the risk to climb on the rough wall to get closer. Again, the closeness to the warm rock afforded by the lack of clothing and the risk of getting scratched or seen all heightened our excitement.

From time to time I would notice that Jacob was excited in more ways than one. Aroused is a word that comes to mind. The first time he caught me looking at his erection he lowered his eyes and turned away in embarrassment.

I suggested we return to the little sandy place where we'd left our bikes and have lunch. He wanted to know why I had been looking at him and his erection. Cos you're beautiful, I said, and so is your erection; why were you embarrassed about it?

--I guess cos I'm supposed to be? I dunno. That is one of the questions my dad said I should want to ask you.

--No need to be embarrassed about an erection. We all get them, especially boys. Your penis is just trying to tell you it doesn't want to be left out of the action, it wants to play, to exercise.

We were walking along the dry river side by side and he looked up at me. --How do I exercise my penis? How do I play with it?

Here we go again, I thought. Mentoring is such an arduous task when it involves counselling comely undraped lads on the finer points of masturbation. We were at our bikes now so we retrieved lunch and sat in the warm sand, backs against opposite banks of this narrow little dry stream. He sat first, legs splayed, lunch piled between them. I sat facing him, similarly, my legs on top of his. His feet were within tickling range.

After a few bites of bread and cheese he asked: --Who are you, really?

--I am your mentor, I replied, I'm here to answer the questions you don't yet know you want to ask. And your dad does not know how to answer.

--Like... How do I masturbate? Will you show me? How come my Dad's penis looks different than mine or yours? Why are we not ashamed to be nude when everyone else is?

--That's a good beginning. Let me see what I can do here. Masturbation is pretty straight forward, so to speak. You grab hold of your self like so and move your hand this way. After a little while it begins to feel really strange the first time but then it feels really good. I suppose that good feeling is one of the reasons we are told by some grown-ups not to do it. Cos it feels good. Remember, this country was founded upon the idea of the "pursuit of happiness" but the actual happiness itself seems to have been left out of the equation.

Needless to say I had an erection by now and so did Jacob. But he stopped when I did, neither of us coming to orgasm. Perhaps later. We discussed foreskins, pulled them back, and talked about keeping the glans clean. Clean enough to eat, I said, and he smirked. This kid, I thought, is aware of some things but ignorant of others.

Why are we not ashamed? That is the hardest question. Did you/do you go to sunday school? What god do you believe in? Are you ashamed of your god? Some of us are taught that we were made in god's image while others believe we made God in our image. If we are ashamed of our selves then it stands to reason that we are ashamed of our god. However, setting all that god stuff aside, some of us are ashamed precisely cos that is how the clothes minded want us to feel. When we feel ashamed we are giving them the power to make us clothe our selves.

Right at the end of that speech something hit my penis. I had been looking away just at that moment, checking up and down the trail, watching the sky, everywhere but Jacob. He'd been eating an orange as I talked and he'd spit a seed across the space between us.

--Well! you couldn't have done better if you tried. Just remember my dear boy, whatever you can do I can do better. And your doing anything to me is tacit permission for me to return in kind.

Before the next few minutes were over we each were spotted with the other's orange seeds. Most especially around our respective penises. I landed one in his nice innie belly button and called out --Basket!. When the seeds were gone we progressed to tossing pebbles. Erections make good targets. Then he asked if I would bury him in the warm sand.

--Scoop out a bed whilst I put away the lunch. We'll be headed back to camp soon.

He laid himself into the bed he'd made and wiggled in to get comfortable with a big loaf of rock for a pillow. I pushed the sand up around him and laid up rock that covered his arms and lower legs and outlined his torso. Only some extra effort on his part would get him out now. This left his chest and belly, down to his knees exposed to my ministrations. At first I tickled him, spider-tickled. His tummy rippled in spasms as he stiffled his giggles and almost immediately he was hard again. Harder even than before. Then I put small pebbles in circles around his nipples and belly button and filled them with sand. More small pebbles outlined his erection where it laid against his groin. Then more sand, dribbled in a fine stream here and there in swirls and piles, sort of like sand painting. Finally two globouse baseball sized rocks were placed upon his glabrous nuts with an ithyphalic rock balanced just so to complete the picture of his desire. And mine as well.

Jacob opened his eyes and laughed. The standing rock threatened to topple but I caught it and stroked it until his giggles subsided. His voice whispered in the heat of the moment: --Do it like that to me for real, Ok?

We were dancing along the edge of someone's fantasy now.

--Nope. Not here. Not now. Remember, you are the boy and I am the man, supposed to be anyhow; you must lead the way and show me what you want. Just asking for it is not enough.

--Maybe later then, he said. Can I sleep over with you? Then I can ask you more questions.

He was out of his sand bed by now and we were walking back to our bikes. I told him his idea and request had merit. Possible. Could be. Ok with me. What will your parents say about it?

Our ride back to the nudist encampment was uneventful except for his erection. Tall and proud and excited it was and something for us to discuss as we dodged cacti but became a worry to him when we approached camp. The more you worry about it the worse it will be Jacob. An excited penis craves attention; just ignore it and it will go away. Save it for later.

He went to his family when we returned and I put away my bike. Perhaps tomorrow we would fly a kite. Perhaps tonight we would fly a kite. In the meantime I had dishes to do and supper to prepare. The sun shower was pretty hot but making use of it would have to wait until after dark. It wasn't the nudity part in this camp. There was a rule proscribing the dumping of any kind of water on the ground.

In this group it was somewhat of a tradition that the youngest person in attendence light the evening's fire. Kevin did that when I brought him that one year. Most often the youngest is 40 or 50 or 60 even. This week the youngest was Jacob and he had been doing a fine job each night. He was out there by late afternoon building his fire so it would be a nice bed of coal for those who would cook on it around sunset. Then there would be marshmallows, and storeys, but no singing, this was not a singing kind of group. I brought a tofu and spam kabob. Well, not to worry, there were some vegies on it too.

As the fire died down Jacob stood with his parents and sister. He finally asked them, after most everyone else had drifted away. His sister was most enthusiastic to be rid of him for the night so she could have the narrow loft in their trailer all to herself. His father nodded approval and the boy beamed at me across the fire, his eyes glowing like a devil's in the red light from the coals.

It was full dark at this point, tho only early evening. Stars blazed across the sky. By now the sunshower was only tepid so whilst I waited for Jacob to show up I heated some water to bring it up to a more respectable temperature and top it off with enough for two. Somewhere I have a decal: Save Water, it proclaims, Shower With A Friend. I have done that before and it has always been fun. Whether in a truck stop or outside under the stars, having my back washed by a boy is simply ecstacy.

When Jacob showed up he was still smiling. We stood together in the dark and I put an arm over his shoulder and directed his sight with a torch. --See the stars. Do you know all their names?

The sunshower is not something one can stand under for long moments. It is a hasty shower. The slightest movement of air on one's wet skin produces a quick chill. Two people washing each other makes best use of the water. We dance about holding close, chest to chest while washing each others back, soap slippery bodies, hands all over in the dark, touching everywhere. But it is ok in the dark, in the shower; the intent is not sexual even though the result is. --Wow! That was cool, he said when the water finally ran out and we grabbed for our towels.

I put the shower bag away whilst he showed me what all he'd brought with him. Some fresh oatmeal cookies for a snack, toothbrush, pyjamas. --Pyjamas!? You spend all day running around nude and now you are going to get dressed to sleep?

--My Mom thought it might be a good idea.

--Good thinking on her part. Mom's are like that. Always good to be prepared.

Now inside, still drying off, tea water on, sitting still, rehashing the day. He laughed anew at the seed spitting. --That was cool when I hit your whizzle with the seed; and then you put part of the orange skin on top like an umbrella when it started to get hard. And it was cool when you buried me and made that rock stand up on me like I had a huge hard cock. The best part was when you tickled me. Will you do that again? Please? When we go to bed?

But first, all dry and warm, we went outside again to name some stars and look at constellations. How do you know all that stuff, he wanted to know, and I told him that once upon a long ago some man stood with me in the dark and someday when you are a man it will be your turn to find a boy and pass it on.

--And did he tickle you too?

 
 

Dear David,

It never ceases to amaze me how our prayers are answered, how the Great Cosmic Muffin warps events, how paths cross, and entwine. Chance? Coincidence?

I have just returned from driving across the country, through thirteen states (if you allow me to count some of them twice since I crossed the north of them going east and then the south of them going west) a total of near 5,700 miles, and only once have I seen a boy worth writing of. Him I have already told you about.

Yesterday all that changed. Too bad it was this late in the tour and only a one night stand.

I had been wandering around on that penultimate day of my journey, shopping for sandals--bought two pair, different, work and play--a printer cartridge, and a replenishment of sundry things and stuff. Now it was near noon o'clock and I wanted to try out my new playing sandals so I betook my Self to that park on the east side of the city wherein lies the Zoo and the Garden, and a picnic area known for its Hole in the Rock. The bus was parked on a fair flat in an area empty but for a large dumpster. To one side, between the mesquites, was a gravelly opening containing a table and fireplace; to the other side was the access road, and looming ahead, perhaps a quarter mile distant, was the namesake geologic formation. I was behind the bus, between the open doors of the engine room, checking belts and leaks and adding a quart of oil, when I espied to the left, through the vent of the radiator, a boy on a bicycle coming in fast toward the front of the bus.

Granted, at this point, it was probly more wishful thinking on my part that I could write "a boy". But, The Cosmic Muffin has a way with wish fulfillment.

I set aside my attention to the dipstick and moved slightly right the better to see this bicycle and its rider emerge through the trail to the picnic area. When no confirming visage of age and gender was forthcoming I mounted my concern. La Gata was out at the end of her tether inspecting the ground for a suitable business location. I looked under the bus and observed plimsolled feet moving from parked bike towards the bushes. As it sugared off the boy had to pee but first he took a moment to untangle La Gata before lifting the ragged hem of his shorts. Boys don't hardly wear shorts they can lift the hem of anymore so I thought this must be one special kid.

He had still not seen me when he bent to pet La Gata and I made my presence known by closing the engine room doors. He was standing by his bike when I came round from the left after putting away the funnel and rags and closing the bellybox.

--Hey! Nice bus you have.

--Hey! Nice bike you have and thank you for untangling the cat.

He flushed just for a second and then asked if I had seen him pee. No, I said, would you do it again so I can watch? Maybe later, he said.

Then we talked about the bus. He wanted a bus; he wanted to travel and to live on the road. Any place else must be better than Phoenix, he said. He asked about the "Clothing Optional" sign. He asked if I were a nudist. A naturist, I said, and explained what I believe to be the difference. Cool, he said. Sometimes, I said.

Then he asked if he could see the inside. I was about to have some lunch and so invited him to stay for a sandwich. Thirteen year-olds are always hungry. He watched me intently as I moved about preparing our meal. And he talked and questioned. Sleeping nude was about all he could manage to do at home and though he professed a desire and an enjoyment of skinnydipping and sunbathing it was rare that he got the chance. Finally he asked the big question: --Are you naked now?

--I'm always naked under my clothes; what about you?

--I mean, under that long shirt. Do you have any shorts on? I don't think you have.

--Good guess. But you've been watching.

--Can I be naked too?

His voice was soft now. Not that it had been strident. Just cautious.

Perhaps you mean "May I..."? You certainly may if you can.

--Are you an English teacher?

--Sort of. More like a Grammarian.

--What's the difference?

--An English teacher makes an attempt to teach English. A Grammarian is concerned with the proper usage.

--Ok. So may I get naked? Will you take off your shirt if I take off all my clothes?

--You may get undressed if you like but there are no deals and no rewards. We don't "get naked", as you say, because the other guy does, we do it cos we like to be that way.

He pulled down his shorts and kicked them off and looked down at himself. His shirt was too short to cover much and he laughed at that and pulled it off over his head. His clothes went down into the stairwell with his plimsolls. He stood there. Nude. Not even jewelery. He was, for thirteen, give or take a few months, a little behind the curve. His penis was more like that of a twelve year-old and there was only the faintest moustache of pubes. He must have sensed my concern:

--My mom and my gym teacher said I'm a little slow developing but not to worry, I'll catch up in another few months or a year. But anyhow, now I'm nakeder than you.

--And more beautiful I would say.

--Boys can't be beautiful. That's for girls. Boys can be handsome.

--Not so. Men can be handsome. But boys are beautiful, even the ones who might not be handsome.

He pulled on the end of his foreskin: --Do you think it is big enough? It gets bigger when it gets hard.

--Big enough for what? Can you wrap your hand around it?

He blushed again, looked up at me with a quick smile and then looked down again: --It gets hard a lot now. I guess sometimes I'm glad its not too much bigger cos then it would really show.

Mine was getting hard now too--no self-control. I set two plates on the table and stood back to pull my shirt off.

--Wow! I guessed right. Just like you said; you were naked under your shirt. And you're getting hard too! And, he said with even more emphasis, I got more hair than you have. How come is that? Do old men get bald down there too?

--Come. Let us eat.

--Do you say grace?

--I say thank you to whomever is my guest. This way: Rub-a-dub-dub, Thanks for the grub, Yeaaa Justin!

And we said it again together.

--This is cool, he said. Eating naked with a naked man. I never done anything like this before. What could be funner?

--We could be driving nude along the road or hiking nude to the top of a mountian. Or you could be eating the naked man.

--How about skinnydipping, he said. Or, he asked in his quiet voice, maybe sleeping together naked?

 
 

Woody with a Woody

Bill came to my door with a boy in tow.

It was near dark, just after sundown.

--This is Woody, he said, You met him earlier this afternoon; he needs a place to sleep.

Woody was a cute boy, third grader, who spoke two languages: English and ASL.

He and his parents came to spend the day and then decided to stay over. But the cabin had only a double bed and as it turned out they wanted the room to themselves; that was the whole idea of staying here in the first place.

I met Woody when his family had checked in that morning and he translated for his parents. Both are deaf mutes; how many extra sylables do I have to employ to be PC about that?. The boy learned to sign with ASL at the same time he learned to speak.

He was close to his father, at check-in stood in front of him and took his hand to lead him away when I went to show them where to park. Later when the three of them were nude and headed for the tubs I observed the boy signal his father by touching the man's penis. Once even pulling it sharply to get the man's attention. When Woody's hands were not busy signing for his parents they were busy pulling on his own foreskin. Or playing his GameBoy.

Now he is here, standing slighty behind Bill as I peer down from the height of my front door. The totality of the boy's accoutrement: His GameBoy in one hand, a Teddy Bear in the other. Yawning.

--...can he sleep here, Bill was saying?

He may sleep here, I thought, but I'm not sure he can. He might not be be able to; he might be too busy to sleep.

I invite him in, telling Bill I will make space on the floor; the couch is busy with stacks of magazines to read and letters to answer. My bed is a mess.

The boy stands by the galley table, turning around slowly, taking it all in, trying to assimilate what must appear to him as a vast unkempt circus wagon.

--This afternoon, when you came over to where we were parked with your string was when I had a woody. Did you see it? I tried to hide it. Whenever I sit around like that and play with my GameBoy I get really excited with the action. I'm not really thinking about it but the GameBoy rubs on the top of my peter and it gets hard. Sometimes really hard. That's when you came by. Each time it gets harder and longer, like Pinnochio's nose. My Dad told me that storey a long time ago when I was still learning some of the signs for nose and penis and I got them confused. When he touched me and named my parts and it got hard was when he started calling me Woody and told that storey.

In California certain old cars and some old surfboards are called woodies and so is a hard on. Once upon a time my family had one of those wooden station wagons; I think it was a Ford.

Woody is not woody now, just tired. He yawned again and told me that his folks thought at first he could sleep on the floor of the room they'd taken for the night but then changed their mind. --I know what they're gonna do, he smiled and licked his lips. Woody was eight, that's old enough to know.

They'd asked Bill if it was alright if their son slept in their car, or was it safe enough outside, from wild animals and snakes you know, for him to sleep on one of the tanning lounges. Bill told them the boy could sleep with me. He said it like that too and then corrected himself saying --Well, not necessarily in the same bed...

--That's ok, they'd assured him, Woody's old enough to know and to take care of himself.

Well, I tell Woody, you're welcome to the floor. The bed is more comfortable but I am not sure your bear will get along with my bear. And he replies that if we snuggle and cuddle then the bears will see that we're bare friends and maybe they will be bear friends too. We set the bears to discussing this weighty matter and go out for a shower. --You know, he says while I'm washing his back, this wood is the only kind I know of that you can still light a fire with even when its wet.

I can only imagine what wood he is talking about, eh. But I go on to tell him about certain woods, certain standing dead woods that are better for campfires and we switch places under the shower so now he is washing my back.

--Jeeze are you dense or what, he says whilst dragging his nice finger nails from shoulder blades to nates, that's not the kind of fire I'm talking about, duh!

Kids! Ya gotta love 'em. Especially boys like this one. Just waltzes into my house and invites himself to my bed and says we need to cuddle so his bear will know that it's all right.

I was right about him not getting much sleep, I didn't either; he was tossing and turning all night and I was having nightmares of being roasted on a skewer over a slow fire and eaten raw by impatient cannibals.