by Don Schecter
Table of Contents
Lap Time
Tate’s Death
What Friends Are For
Christmas Help
Eye of the Hunter
Transfiguration
Doorways
Out of the Box
Dellamarvelous
Seeing Double
Hypocritic Oath
His Fathers’ Advice
The Roadrunner
Blake’s Progress
Submission
Part I - Playing with Fire
Part II - Into the Flames
AUTHOR’S NOTE:
And All the Trimmings
Contact information:
Out of the Box
Stories for
Older Men & Younger Lovers
Volume II
* * *
Don Schecter
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2009 Don Schecter
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Lap Time
A man as big as the Christmas tree, with heavy gold rings hanging like ornaments from the pierced nipples of his sagging breasts, stood in the middle of the living room surrounded by naked men. He was totally isolated from them by his girth and lofty elevation. The cocktail chatter going on around him at the Christmas party seemed of no importance to him and, because he was six-foot-six, it was literally beneath him.
Lanny Cochran, an officer of the nudist club, was circulating to ensure everyone was having a good time. As he came through the French doors from the dining room, he spied the giant, motionless and ignored, in a sea of waving glasses, flapping lips, and bobbing dicks. He thought, this is a job for Superman! and tried to decide what course of action to take.
How do you help a guy like this? Who can I introduce him to? And do I want to take him under my wing? Well, I can’t let the poor bastard just stand there; everyone’s afraid to approach him. Let’s break the ice.”
Moving toward the huge fellow, Lanny had no way to gauge the guy’s weight because it was beyond any frame of reference he knew. He would have opened the conversation by asking, “How much do you…?” but the giant turned to face him, and Lanny saw that his scrotum was tightly constricted by a wide red ribbon, tied with a big bow, from which depended a lavender geode about six inches in diameter. The question swerved itself into, “How much does that thing weigh?”
“Oh, that’s nothing. I can hang a lot more weight from my balls than that.” The fellow had a resonant voice that emanated from deep within the mountain of flesh. “Cy” was written in black marker on his shoulder.
“But who would want to?” Lanny asked.
“I’m trying to stretch them so my sac will be more in proportion to my size.”
Lanny shrugged. “A man must do what a man must do, I guess. Glad to meet you, Cy.”
Cy shook Lanny’s hand. “Same here, Lanny. Writing names on shoulders is a good solution for helping out-of-towners get acquainted.”
Joined by the hands, a full orchestra of emotions tuned up in Lanny’s head. Cy’s hand engulfed Lanny’s, triggering a wave of helplessness. His eyes were only on a level with Cy’s tit rings; he had to crane his neck uncomfortably to see Cy’s lips. He felt diminutive; the word “Lilliputian” crossed his mind. He hadn’t experienced such a feeling since he was a child. Fortunately, Cy neither pressed Lanny’s hand more than firmly, nor held it imprisoned longer than necessary.
“You’re a big one, all right,” Lanny bleated nervously.
“Yeah. Lots of guys are afraid to talk to me, but not you. I’m glad you came over. I really like hairy chests, especially silver-grays.” Cy’s large hand brushed over the firm swells of Lanny’s pectorals in too friendly a manner. There was a smug arrogance to the action, as if to say you’ll find it a lot easier to tolerate this behavior than to try and stop me.
Lanny ignored the intimidation and responded to the compliment. “Thanks, you’re very kind. I’m the club vice-president. I want to make sure nobody’s left out.”
“Don’t worry about me. I used to stand in the corner all night. Then I realized the worst anyone could do was say no, so I started telling the men I fancied what I liked… and what I wanted to do with them. You’d be surprised the number of yeses I get. For example, I’d like to suck your cock.”
“I’m flattered, but not tonight.”
“No matter. I like ‘yes,’ but I’m used to ‘no.’”
A gray-haired, very well kept, smooth-skinned man came up to them. “I see you’ve trapped another one of your favorite types, Cy.”
“No. Believe it or not, this gorgeous gentleman approached me. Lanny, say hello to my friend, Pete.”
“We’re friends, all right,” Pete said as he shook Lanny’s hand., “but he won’t give me a second glance because I haven’t got a hair on me.” Pete ran his other hand admiringly through the heavy black hair on Lanny’s forearm. The movement was similar to Cy’s but, coming from a man of about Lanny’s height, it didn’t raise any distress signals. “You’re what this kid dreams about,” Pete continued. “He wants a well-built older man with as much fur as he can get.”
“I’m sorry, I’m taken,” Lanny lied, electing the easy way out. “It’s very nice to meet you both. Have a good time. I have to see about the others.”
“Hold on now.” Cy grabbed Lanny by the upper arm as he turned to leave. “If I can’t suck your cock, will you let me hug you?”
The French horn in Lanny’s mind blared loudly as he considered what he was getting into. What’s it like to get near all this flesh? Watch out for the tit rings—they can take an eye out. Oh well, it will be a new experience, and besides, I might learn a thing or two.
“Sure, why not? Say, how much do you weigh?”
“Three-sixty,” Cy replied. “I’ve been on a diet.”
Lanny stretched his hands out tentatively. He spread his fingers over the expanse of Cy’s belly, and stepped toward him. As Cy moved forward, his gut struck Lanny’s chest and reversed his direction. Lanny dug his bare feet into the carpet to gain traction, but only when Cy got his arms around Lanny’s shoulders did he manage to compress the flesh separating them.
Lanny felt beached on an enormous ball. His head was forced forward over Cy’s belly and buried into his soft breasts. He felt smothered. He turned his face to the side so he could breathe. They held the position for perhaps five seconds. In that time, Lanny’s orchestra played urgent motifs of helplessness, dependency, and imprisonment. Then, as Lanny might have foreseen, Cy picked him off the ground.
“Hey, put me down!” came the involuntary cry of panic.
“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you.”
Lanny didn’t fear being hurt; he was quite comfortable physically. He was annoyed at the total loss of control he experienced as soon as his feet left the carpet. Stark naked, aloft on a giant balloon, a huge hand groping his exposed ass, Lanny heard rock-a-bye baby in noisy crescendo and it sounded ridiculous to him. A grown man, father of adult children—I don’t enjoy this at all!
As soon as he was returned to the floor, Lanny’s composure rapidly flowed back.
“I’m not sure I liked that. I’m not used to feeling like a kid.”
“Well, I enjoyed the hell out of it. I love the way you feel. Firm and muscular. I sure wish you’d change your mind about my scarfing your boner. I could do some wonderful things to you.”
“I’m sure you could. Thanks, anyway.” Lanny wished them a good time and stepped away from Cy and Pete to look for some other newcomers who, hopefully, would be easier to deal with.
One of the acknowledged benefits of being an officer of a nudist club is getting to meet prospective members at a monthly meeting before the rank and file get their hands on them. In June, Lanny was seated in the president’s home with four club officers and three new men who thought they would like to join. None of the three was especially appealing, and Lanny was sort of bored with the routine proceedings until an unusual-looking fellow arrived late.
Gene García was a forty-three-year-old who was used to being carded in bars. Of average height, he had a lean, trim body and a face that was still unlined. He was dressed in the oversized garments of a teen, his tee shirt too big and drooping, the legs of his shorts down below his knees. The seated group of naked men didn’t give him a second glance. But when he reentered the room nude, Lanny’s eyes snapped to attention. He was in lust before Gene took a seat on the floor, cross-legged, demonstrating his litheness and grace, as well as displaying an ample, almost black sex organ against the pale brown skin of his hairless thighs.
After the meeting, Lanny tried to play it cool, but he found himself blubbering an invitation to use his pool anytime Gene wanted. Gene was exceptionally polite; he got these urgent propositions on a regular basis. But he liked to swim laps and to make new friends as much as any man, so two days later he took Lanny up on the offer.
Nude in Lanny’s pool, the water a delightful 88°, they chatted aimlessly while Lanny tried in vain to maneuver what looked like a twenty-five-year-old toward having sex with him.
“I’m not twenty-five, I’m forty-three. My forty-fourth birthday is next Thursday.”
“But you’re still in college.”
“I worked for nineteen years. I decided to chuck it and get my degree.”
Lanny said, “You’re not kidding me,” without knowing if he was making a statement or asking for verification.
“I’ve got a driver’s license to prove it. Want me to get it?”
“No, don’t get out.” Lanny said, “I believe you,” but his mind kept rebelling because the face and body were simply too young. Where was Dorian’s portrait hidden? It wasn’t until he realized Gene was full of firsthand observations of the gay scene before AIDS that Lanny finally accepted he was hearing the truth. Gene told Lanny some wild stories of sex when he was in his teens and twenties. He got used to chasing and bedding youngsters and, since he never seemed to age, he never needed to shake the habit.
“You must have a hell of a time with twinks.”
“Oh, I do. They think I’m inexperienced, and I can play them any way I choose. I’m always in control. But, like everything else, it backfires. I want a relationship with a good-looking man my age and there aren’t many. When I approach one, he wants a one-nighter with what he thinks is a kid, and totally refuses to take me seriously.”
“How about me? For you, I mean.”
“Well, I know how to treat the kids, and I know what to do with the forties group, but I’m not sure I can handle the sixties.” Gene smiled devilishly at Lanny. “Oh well, it will be a new experience, and I wouldn’t mind learning a thing or two.”
Lanny was seated on an underwater bench. He put his hand out to Gene. “Come over here. I’m a good teacher.” He pulled Gene onto his lap and circled his slender waist with his arms. He jutted his neck forward for a kiss, but it was not forthcoming. OK. We’ll take it real slow.
Lanny fondled Gene, caressing him, bringing his cock to an immediate and rigid erection, which he stroked gently underwater. He nipped and bit at Gene’s back and, after a while, fondled his pecs, which were cantilevered like outspread wings exactly to Lanny’s dream specification.
“How do you get muscle to assume a shape like that?” Lanny crooned.
“Dips man, full-body-weight dips, lots of them. You could do it, too.” Gene sounded solicitous, encouraging, friendly. But he didn’t place a hand on Lanny.
“You’re not doing anything for my ego, Gene. I wouldn’t mind being touched back. Lucky I’m a pretty self-assured gay or you’d have me crying into my pillow tonight. What’s the problem?”
“Nothing. I like you well enough, Lanny…as an older man, I mean. I’m just not used to being around guys your age.”
“Am I making you unhappy? Would you like me to stop? There’s no fool like an old fool, and I don’t want to pressure you against your will.”
“You’re doin’ just fine. I like being stroked. Just give me some time.” At a loss to explain further, Gene shifted the subject: “Did I ever tell you…” and he was off on another tale of wild sex in the seventies, where he took the initiative and landed this gorgeous blond kid who had never had sex with a man…
Lanny didn’t mind what Gene did or said; he was thrilled to be holding this fantasy in his arms. Admittedly, it would have been nicer if his feelings were reciprocated, but he was a mature man and understood that not everyone you select, selects you. So he chose to take what he could, keep his chin up, and hope that one day Gene might feel comfortable enough to reach out and grasp the raging hard-on Lanny had for him.
As nude clubs go, there are four or five new members or guests who show up at each monthly party. Lanny had already fallen in and out of lust twice this year. The second time the feeling was mutual and the “affairette” lasted three weeks. By August, Lanny was hungry again and cruising hard.
The delightful surprise of the August party was Ricki Hernandez, all five feet of him.
Lanny was checking members in at the door as they arrived bearing goodies for the potluck buffet. One of them brought Ricki as a guest. He was all smiles, with flashing Latin eyes, and Lanny found him delightful and charming, but way too small. His diminutive size prevented him from triggering any sexual response at all in Lanny.
Later in the evening Lanny went to the bedroom where he had left his clothes to get some ibuprofen for an arthritic knee that was kicking up. Ricki came in looking for one of his calling cards to give a newfound admirer. He smiled broadly at Lanny, and Lanny had the chance to take a second look at the perfection of the small man.
He was smooth café-au-lait in color, and totally hairless except for a minimal patch at his groin. He looked like a tiny gymnast, his muscles in perfect proportion to his childlike size. His pecs were a marvel of miniaturization and the ripples of his belly were exceptionally well-defined.
Lanny smiled back at the tiny vision and watched him leave. Ricki stopped at the door, turned back and paused. Since no words came, despite an odd look on his face, Lanny helped him out. “You wanted to ask something?”
Ricki walked over to Lanny, invading his space, stepping much too close to someone he didn’t know. “I was wondering,” he said—more smiles, a flush of embarrassment —”would you…would you hug me?”
“Huh? Why?” asked Lanny, somewhat surprised.
“I’m just in need of a hug from someone who looks like you: fatherly, strong, and firm. It would make me very happy. Please. Just a hug.”
Lanny considered the request, which had a decidedly familiar ring. Ricki spoke in a relatively high-pitched voice with an irresistible musical lilt. Lanny found himself completely won over. He palmed the ibuprofen tablets. “OK, let’s do it.”
The logistics were not so easy. Lanny bent over and found he was looking at the top of Ricki’s head, which made Ricki arch his back to look up. After a little fumbling, Lanny stooped, ignoring the stab of pain from his knee, and put his arms around Ricki’s arms, which were around Lanny’s back.
“We can do better than that,” said Lanny.
They readjusted so that Ricki’s arms encircled Lanny’s neck and, naturally, the next thing that happened was that Lanny picked Ricki from the floor as he had done with children many times before. He stood tall, relieving the pressure on his knees and back.
The action reminded Lanny of his own
feelings aloft. He blushed and set Ricki down.
“I’m sorry. You must hate being picked up all the time.”
“No, I love it,” Ricki insisted. “Don’t worry. Please, again. I’m used to it. I’m not a child, but surely it’s easier. I love being tall as you in the air.”
Lanny shrugged and swept Ricki up again. It was like holding one of his children when they were young, but different, because this child was built like a rock. Lanny marveled that everything inside of himself existed inside this small man. How does it all fit?
Tender remembered feelings of fatherhood, protectiveness, and comfort washed over Lanny. He suddenly felt strong and heroic. The melodies that played were snippets of the finales of love duets. He suddenly felt an urge for sex, which amazed him considering Ricki’s size. Ricki’s cool, smooth skin felt marvelous in his arms and against his hands.
“And may I ask you a favor in return?”
“But of course,” Ricki said.
“May I touch your chest?”
“Certainly. Please do. I would enjoy that very much.”
Ricki clasped Lanny’s waist with his legs and Lanny supported Ricki’s firm bubble-butt with one forearm. Like a cooperative child, Ricki was practically self-supporting, requiring little effort on Lanny’s part to maintain his position. Lanny cupped one of the beautifully shaped muscles in the palm of his free hand and gently kneaded it.
“You have a magnificent body. What’s your secret?”
“Fifteen hours a week in the gym, without fail.”
“I’m impressed. You remind me of a cartoon superhero: Darrell Dane, The Doll Man. As a child, I had a crush on him. A chiseled body on a man who could stand in the palm of your hand.”
“I’ve never heard of him…”
Lanny chuckled. “Of course not. You weren’t even born when he was popular.”
“…but I’m glad I make you think of him if you liked him.”