Dream Catcher

I was suppose to be having a quiet vacation before
embarking on my second year of law school, but my uncle was
showing me off to his friends like I was a trophy buck whose
head was destined to appear above the fireplace in the lodge
of his resort. In the course of his zealous attempt to
introduce me to everyone in South—West Montana, I met Tommy
Three Bears.

Tommy was eighteen and lived on a Native American
Reservation not far from my uncle’s hotel. My new friend’s
company was a sweet distraction from the well meaning boredom
my uncle provided. Tommy’s thin, bronze body filled me with
lustful curiosity. I was dying to see him naked. Christ,
how I longed to see his reddish—brown cock and shapely, round
ass.

Early one morning, while walking alone in the woods, my
thoughts became overwhelmed with sexual fantasy. Sitting by
a stream in the cool shadows of first light, I felt the
yearning for Tommy Three Bears swelling in my crotch.

Lying back, I opened my pants and pushed them down over
my thighs. The tip of my thick foreskin was slick with the
translucent dew of my youthful passion. Pulling back the
generous flap of tingling flesh brought forth a torrid gasp
of pleasure. The crisp morning air caressed the ticklish
knob of my responsive cock with such affection, it quickly
brought my swollen balls to the brink of release.

I peeled off my shirt and gently pinched the delicate
nubs of my aroused nipples. Every hair on my body stood on
end, alive with intense sexual energy. I finished removing
my cloths and fell back into the tall, cool grass. Breaking
through the canopy of leaves that towered overhead, speckles
of sunshine danced over my naked flesh like tiny, shapeless
fairies.

My cock slapped stiffly against my belly as my hands
slid between earth and flesh to palm the cheeks of my
buttocks. I shivered in response to the groping of my
fingers. The body which I knew so well intrigued me like
never before.

The spiky blades of grass beneath me, still damp with
summer dew, invaded the steamy crevice of my wriggling ass.
The green shoots penetrated the fortress of dense hair that
surrounded my tight pucker. I closed my eyes and gulped in a
deep breath of sweet mountain air. The tickling sensation
made my ass ache for something more substantial, something
capable of sinking deep into my musty aperture to ravage the
very core of my pent—up desire.

I drew my spread legs back over the top of me so that my
toes touched the ground above my shoulders. Locking my
elbows behind my knees, I stroked the down covered orbs of my
turned up ass, much like an old Gypsy rubbing a crystal ball.

The sensation was electric as I impaled my pucker with a
single finger. The wiggling of my digit inside my sweltering
rectum took my breath away. I cried out softly, blissfully,
as the tip of my finger vigorously stroked the internal hoard
of semen that threatened to overwhelm my inflated prostate.

A deluge of precum oozed from the narrow slit at the tip
of my pulsating cockhead. I grunted with gratification as I
crammed a second finger into my slimy bunghole. The veins
traversing the length of my rigid shaft were swollen to near
bursting. Standing my spastic dick up between my quaking
thighs ignited a rush of climactic wildfire that seized me in
a lusty grip.

Through tightly clinched teeth, I hissed and spat as the
tide of my surging load continued to build momentum. My
fingers slithered out of my ass and my legs came down to
rejoice in the embrace of the splendid grass. Encompassing
the shaft of my cock with a firm hand, I pulled and squeezed
until my entire body had reached a state of complete frenzy.

My legs stiffened, my toes curled, and my back arched to
lift my tightly clinched ass off the ground. The hollowness
of my elongated pisstube convulsed, firing a whipping rope of
thick, sticky semen across my pitching chest.

Greedily, I lifted my head and opened my mouth as a
second even more robust wave of jism squirted from the
bloated crest of my erupting cock. As if the world had
suddenly slowed down and everything begun to move in slow
motion, the globs of hot, shimmering man juice tumbled
through the air and sloshed sensuously across my awaiting
tongue. I pretended it was Tommy’s cockjuice filling my
mouth. It made the semen taste all the sweeter.

Cum trickled from my lips and dripped off my chin. My
manhood discharged one final jolt of orgasmic satisfaction,
straining to void the last syrupy fragments of my spent seed.

That afternoon Tommy came to visit me at my uncle’s.
Tommy’s brown eyes seemed to sparkle with wanderlust. “A
couple of times a year, I go into the wilderness and spend a
week or so living as my ancestors lived,” he explained. “I’m
preparing to go on such a journey tomorrow, and I was
wondering if you might like to come with me?”

My response was immediate. At dawn, the next morning,
equipped with only our knives, bedrolls and the cloths on our
backs, Tommy Three Bears and I set out for a place he called
the Valley of the Whispering Pines.

By midday we had hiked nearly five miles. It had been a
long time since breakfast — my stomach groaned with pains of
hunger. I was glad when we stopped to rest and eat our fill
of wild blackberries.