Shoot the Moon

For years Jorgenson’s pond had been a summer hangout for
kids. When my best friend Tony and I were younger, we spent
many a summer afternoon there swimming.

Mr. Jorgenson, who owned the pond, was sort of a strange
old man. For the most part he kept to himself, but every now
and then he would show up out of nowhere and watch the guys
thrashing about in his pond. Tony and I seemed to be his
favorites. Sometimes, if the day wasn’t too hot, he’d sit
and share one of his great stories with us.

Sometimes, if Tony and I were alone, we would find a
secluded spot, strip naked and jack off together. It was a
bit daring, but that was half the fun.

We nearly had a fucking heart attack the first time the
old man caught us.

We scurried to our feet, trying desperately to pull up
our swimming trunks—-but it was too late. By the time we
noticed him, the old man had already gotten an eyeful. We
were understandably paranoid as hell about being discovered,
but the old man never said a word. He just grinned and
walked away, shaking his head.

Over the years, I guess we kind of got use to each
other. The old man stopped walking away, and we stopped
trying to conceal the urgency of our youthful passion, which
had practically become a daily ritual.

There was no mistaking the fact that the lonely old man
enjoyed watching Tony and me jack off. It was gratifying to
watch his endearing eyes dance with harmless expectation as
he watched our bony cocks shoot their gooey loads.

The old man’s death was difficult for us to accept; he
had become a trusted friend. When we heard of his passing,
Tony and I both cried. No one would have understood our
grief, so we were careful to make sure no one saw our tears.

A fellow by the name of Hardesty, a nephew of the late
Mr. Jorgenson, inherited the old man’s property. “No
Trespassing” signs quickly surrounded the once familiar pond.
A few kids tested Hardesty’s patience and discovered he had
none——he promptly had them arrested.

It didn’t take long for the once beautiful little pond
to become overgrown with brush and weeds. Hardesty, a hulky,
wild-eyed man in his fifties, seemed to get meaner with age.
Rumor had it, he was a shotgun wielding maniac.

Tony and I had just graduated from high school. It was
our last summer at home before starting college...our last
summer as boyhood pals. Our transition into manhood was
nearly complete. A new beginning was upon us. All summer we
had been inseparable, and now in just one short week we would
embark on our separate journeys.

Late one night, after having had a little too much to
drink, Tony and I decided to visit Old Man Jorgenson’s pond
for old times sake. The alcohol and sense of melancholy had
dulled our better judgment and given us a sort of false
courage. Mr. Hardesty—and the danger he represented—never
entered our minds, and before we knew it, we were standing
naked, submerged to our shoulders in the cool pond.

My body tingled as Tony draped an arm around my neck.
“Remember when we used to come out here?” he asked.

“How could I ever forget.”

“Then you remember what we used to do?” Tony giggled.
His arm slid from around my neck to encircle my slender
waist.

I knew exactly what he was driving at, and it made my
cock twitch with excitement. It had been a long time since
we’d jacked off together, too long to suit me. I had always
loved watching Tony as he coaxed his big eight-inch cock into
a spurting fountain.

“Oh yeah, I definitely remember,” I said. “Sometimes I
wonder why we ever stopped.”

“I’m going to ask you kind of a weird question,” said
Tony. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

His tone had gone from giggly to sincere. “All those
times we jacked off together, did you ever wonder what it
would be like to mess around with each other?”

My reply was immediate. “Every fucking time.”

“Why didn’t you ever say something?” Tony asked.

“Why didn’t you?” I said, dumping the burden of honest
confession right back in his lap.

“I guess I was afraid you wouldn’t feel the same way I
did,” said Tony. “I thought you might, but I was never quite
sure.

“It’s not too late,” I said, bringing a hand up behind
him to palm a cheek of his hairy ass. “I’m game if you are.”

His muscular buttocks tensed. The moon shimmered off
the glassy surface of the pond as we turned and closed in on
one another. It was an intense moment, one of insecurity and
awkwardness. For the first time we faced each other, not as
friends, but as lovers. It seemed more like a dream than
reality. It wasn’t until I felt Tony’s arms around me,
pulling our bodies close, that the actuality of the situation
hit me. A part of me wanted to stop before it was too late.

My mind was in turmoil. Since we were boys, I’d longed
to feel his handsome body against mine. The head of his stiff
cock poked me gently in the belly. I couldn’t stop. The
opportunity to fulfill my secret desires might never come
again.