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Date: Mon, 8 Jul 2013 15:55:43 -0700 (PDT)
From: Ben Ezra Jacobson <ben_ezra_jacobson@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Naked Bicycling Adventure

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THE NAKED BICYCLING ADVENTURE
By
Ben Ezra Jacobson

     Years of journal keeping has allowed access to a lot of adventures
that would have been lost over the years.  My best friends when growing up
were Greg Whitacre, a neighbor, whose father taught at the local university
with my own dad, and the Baynebridge twins, Joe and Jim...a pair of red
headed hotties that lived a few blocks away.  We all went to high school
together and graduated together and have remained friends over the years.
This story is a memory from my journal dated June 1963.  At the time, I
recorded seven pages about our naked bicycling adventure along an old
railroad line that had been taken out of service.  It subsequently had
grown up with weeds and small trees along the twenty two miles between the
town in which we lived and a smaller town named Elmo to the east that had
only 15 living residents left.  The residents of this small dying town were
all older folks and none of them were prone to hiking the old rail road
bed.  This is how our adventure started.

June 2nd, 1963

    Jim, Joe, Greg and I have planned for sometime to ride the old railroad
line between our town and Elmo to the east.  Since the railroad took up the
rails and ties, the path is pretty smooth for walking...and years of
spraying chemicals to keep down the weeds has made a path that is not too
bad.  Most of the part that Greg and I have hiked has been flat and the
gravel is still down from the old rail bed.  We walked yesterday as far as
the old Russell trestle across Fish Creek, and even with the rails
removed...it is an easy walk.  Perhaps the railroad left the ties on the
trestle in place to make it more stable, but really, I can not imagine them
ever putting that old line back into service because there is hardly anyone
living in Elmo anymore...except for a few old people.  All the stores are
closed and have been for years.  As the residents have died off or moved
away...the houses and buildings have been torn down or rotted to the place
that they fell down.  I doubt if there is hardly more than a dozen people
there anymore.

    Anyway, Greg and I talked about riding our bicycles from town to Elmo
and back...and when we asked our parents if we could camp at the old Knob
Hill Church campgrounds a mile outside of Elmo...they said they did not see
any reason why we could not...considering that no one uses the old church
campground anymore.  I am so excited that I can hardly wait to tell Greg
that Mom and Dad said yes.  Of course, since they said yes, I am sure Mr. &
Mrs. Whitacre will agree to let Greg go.


   June 2nd P.M.  Dear Journal:
    I rode my bike over the Whitacre's and Greg was waiting for me on the
front porch swing.

    "What's up Ben?  You look like you're about to explode.  Has something
happened", he asked excitedly?

     "Yes, I asked my parents about our discussion the other day of riding
our bikes to Elmo and back and they said , `Yes!"

    "I know," said Greg.  "Your dad called mine and discussed it this
morning, and they agreed that we are old enough to make that kind of trip.
He said that Juniors in High School should have enough common sense to be
able to pedal a bike on an old defunct railroad line twenty miles and
back."

     "You Rat-Fink," I exclaimed, "You already knew?"

     "Yes, and I think it is a great idea.  Dad said that Professor
Jacobson even said they were going to allow us to camp at the old Knob Hill
Church camp ground...right?"

     "Yes, but he and Mom are going to drive over there and check it out to
be sure that it is not being used by anyone else," I replied.  "I don't
think anyone has camped there in the last ten or twelve years since the
Knob Hill Church burned down.  The members all come over here, that is, the
ones that have not died off.  The campground has grown up in tall
grass...but dad said that we could take the brush hog over there and clear
an area by the old railroad line.  He and I thought we might do that on
Saturday...and we could plan our adventure for the following Monday.  There
is one condition though...all of us have to be in church on Sunday."

    "I am cool with that," Greg responded.  "Have you said anything to Jim
and Joe Baynebridge about it?"

    "Not yet...I thought we could bike over there this evening and talk to
them about it...What do you think?  We could go after supper," I said.

    "Yeah...I'll come over as soon as supper is over," Greg replied.

     And so, that is the way my afternoon and evening went.  The
Baynebridge twins were excited about going.  Mrs. Baynebridge was a little
concerned about the distance and the idea of camping...but when she called
my parents...they reassured her that the boys were safe with me.  Trust is
a wonderful element.  Mom and Dad have always trusted me to make safe and
intelligent decisions but that is because of the way they have taught me
over the years.  The Reverend says that pride is a sin...but I am proud of
the trust my parents have in me.

    I am weary and excited...both.  Tomorrow, the four of us will get
together and start planning what we will need to do to get ready for this
bicycling adventure.  I need a new tube for the front tire in my bike.
Greg said that he needed some repairs to his bike as well.  We need to get
our butts in gear.  Jim and Joe both got new bikes last year at
Christmas...so they should be set to go.  Man...this is going to be a great
adventure.

June 3rd, 1963

    It's raining this morning.  Dad is going to help me with my new tube
for my bike.  Greg is taking his bike to the BIKE PLACE and having them do
it.  I am glad that he is excited to get the project underway.  We took a
quick inventory of our camping gear last night with the Baynebridge
twins...and I think we have everything we need except for some kerosene for
the lanterns.  Dad and I are going to go mow the campground spot by the old
rail line this afternoon... if the rain stops...other wise it will have to
be tomorrow.  It should not take more than about 30 minutes to take the
Brush Hog and clear a site for the tent...but he says we need to clear a
pretty good size area for moving room.  He also said that clearing a good
size area might discourage snakes from nosing around the tent.  Greg will
go ballistic if he sees a snake.  Dad said he would pick up some kerosene
for us this afternoon.

    The plan is to drive to the campground with the gear right after
sunrise next Monday...and set up the tent and put the gear inside.  If any
of the old wood picnic tables are sturdy enough to use, we will move it to
our sight.  Greg will go with me on Monday morning...to move our gear.  Dad
said I could use the station wagon to take the things over.  There is a
metal farm gate at the entrance to the old campground.  It is locked and no
one seems to know who has the key anymore...so we will have to carry the
Brush Hog in to mow...but the good side is...that the gate will keep anyone
out...unless they decide to walk in.  Dad says that no one will even know
we are there because it is a good walk from the gate to the old rail line.

June 3rd.  P.M.

    It took about 15 minutes to put a new tube in my bicycle tire.  We
inflated it with the air compressor and it popped into shape in seconds.
Greg was by and said that his bike would be back from the BIKE PLACE on
Friday.  His dad is having new cables put on it and two new tires and
tubes.  I love the Whitacre's but they go to extremes on everything.  I
asked Greg once what he would do if he had a flat on the road...and he said
that he would hitch hike home for help.  Dad would kill me if I pulled a
stunt like that.

    The rain quit in the middle of the morning.  What's the old
saying... "rain before seven quits by eleven"...or something like that.
Anyway, Dad and I went to the campground with the brush hog and had the
camping spot cleared pretty quick.  There was water standing at the
gate...a lot of it...so we drove around to the other side and walked up the
old railroad bed to the spot where we will be camping.  I guess this is
kind of a good idea...because there will not be tracks through the tall
grass tipping off any one that campers are there in case someone should
decided to nose around.  It only took about thirty minutes to clear the
camping spot...and just a short ways off, we found a picnic table that was
still pretty sturdy and carried it over to the clearing.  Dad asked if I
brought a shovel to dig a latrine.  I had not thought of that...must
remember to bring a shovel next time over with the gear.

    Greg came by after supper and we sat on the front porch swing and made
a list of food we wanted to take.  Mr. & Mrs. Whitacre are buying the food
since dad and I cleared the camp site.  It was their idea.  Saves me from
grocery shopping which I hate to do.

    While Mom and Dad were gone this evening, Greg and I talked about
whether or not to take "reading material" along.  I don't have any but he
does...and I told him if he could pull it off without creating any
suspicion...sure, why not.  He also said that he was taking an assortment
of creams and lotions...you know, for sun burn and for itchy feet.  He
blushed and was grinning from ear to ear.  Really Greg...I hope you don't
get sun burned too bad there.  We do not want anything to keep us from
having a great bike ride and a fun couple of days.  I wish we could stay
longer than just over night, but I have to be home on the third day for a
dentist appointment before the dentist leaves on vacation.  Tough Luck.

Sunday Night:

Dear Journal: I am not going to have much time to write this evening
because Greg is coming over to spend the night.  I asked Jim and Joe
Baynebridge too, but Mrs. B... wanted the boys home with her tonight since
she is letting them go with us in the morning.

     Church seemed long as I had trouble focusing on the sermon because I
am too excited about tomorrows bike ride.  Greg and I will take the gear
over in the morning and set up the tent.  We'll put the gear in the tent
and then drive back here to meet Jim and Joe around 8:30 in the morning.
Fortunately for us...the weather forecast is continued unseasonably cool.
If the high is only around 70 degrees...it will be perfect pedaling
weather.  I have laid out jean shorts and a blue tee shirt.  Greg asked me
if I was going to wear anything under them.  Well, duh...of course...the
more layers, the less chaffing.  If it is real cold, long pants might be a
better choice and a sweat shirt over the tee shirt.  Can't find my sun
glasses.  I don't know where I last put them...but Dad said I could take
his.

     I am almost too excited to sleep...but Greg has assured me that if I
can not sleep...he has some ideas to keep my mind occupied. Hmmmm.

Sunday Night - Midnight

    Greg is sound asleep.  He was sure he would not sleep a wink because of
anticipation.  He chattered on and on.  We both took showers and I put on a
pair of black shorts to sleep in.  When I climbed into my side of the bed,
he was as naked as a jay bird on the other side.  He reached over and
started messing with me and in just a few minutes, had my shorts off and
was under the covers.  It did not take long.  Naturally I was obliged to do
the same for him.  Man was he ready.  After a bit...he rolled over on his
side and went promptly to sleep.  I can not sleep though...so it seemed
like a good idea to write a few more lines in my journal...and try to get
some sleep again.  I am going to leave the windows open since the breeze is
quite cool and since we are on the second floor... and snuggle up next to
Greg.  Surely sleep will come quickly...or not.  He always smells like the
most manly soaps and colognes...so even if I can not sleep...I can snuggle
him and breath deeply.  Ha.

Monday, June 7th

    I woke up around 5:00 AM as the light of day was just beginning to
paint the sky with blues and yellows.  Greg was laying as close to me as he
could get and he was at full mast, as he pressed against me.  I told him
that we did not have time for this kind of exercise, with so much to
do...but he held me close and was not persuaded until I agreed.  It did not
take long.  Quickly in, quickly off, quickly out...and then hit the
showers.  I did not protest too much because Greg is hung...and he knows
how to put a smile on my face with each thrust.

    We were both in the kitchen by 6:00 AM to wolf down a bit of breakfast
and then to the garage to back the station wagon out and take our camping
gear to the campground.  I remembered to include a shovel and necessary
paper after all, everyone knows that `the job is not complete until the
paper work is done.'  We carried the tent and gear up the railroad bed to
the camp site and set up the tent and deposited the gear within.  We would
be back later in the day.  It took about twenty minutes to drive home.
When we arrived back at the house, Jim and Joe were waiting on us.  We
replenished the water bottles, said our "good bye's" to our parents and
pedaled away.

    The old railroad station was turned into a scout meeting hall after the
tracks and ties were removed but there was little interest in preserving
the old line for recreational purposes until just recently.  The city
declined to spend funds to clear the road bed for hikes and it soon grew up
in weeds and small trees to the side.  The gravel bed was so hard packed
that it was unlikely to experience vegetation growth for some time, but we
all knew that if left unattended, it would eventually succumb to
overgrowth.

    About a mile out of town, there were no more houses to be seen, just
some farm land and a lot of timber land.  We would not see a house again
until we reached Elmo which at that point would be another nineteen miles.
We figured three hours to get there..maybe less if we really pedaled fast.
It did not seem to us like there was any reason to hurry...just take our
time and enjoy the trip.

    At the second mile according to the odometer on Joe Baynebridge's bike,
he suggested stopping to `water the weeds'.  We all agreed that that was a
good idea.  The four of us standing along the old road bed, appendages in
hand, watered away.  All three of my companions were better endowed than
was I, and no one seemed in a hurry to pull themselves back together.

     Greg who is always the first to come up with a new idea...suggested
that we strip off naked and pedal our bikes in the buff.  The Baynebridge
boys began to laugh...but were the first to remove their shorts and shirts.
Both had left the underwear at home.  There they stood, white freckled
skin, flaming red hair and nothing on but tennis shoes and socks The red
pubic hair and hairy legs...made them look striking.  In school the girls
and boys alike were very fond of them.  Although they had not expressed any
interest about same gender attractions other than to Greg and myself...all
of our male classmates had seen them in the school P.E. shower room and
would whisper among themselves that the Baynebridge's would win first prize
for size if there were ever a contest.  So, back on their bikes, they were
ready to go.  Greg too, stripped off his shorts and tee shirt.  He too had
nothing under them.  I removed my shirt but not my shorts and mounted my
bike.  They asked why I did not strip naked and I made up an excuse about
one of us being clothed in case someone should walk up on us and see us.
As it was, if anyone was on the old line bed but us, we were unaware of it.

    We arrive at the Russell Trestle about the ten mile mark.  It spans
Fish Creek, a shallow creek most of the time where the water was deep
enough to wade but not enough to swim.  Jim and Joe were starting to get a
sun burn.  I had some sunburn lotion in my bike bag but they produced a
plastic spray bottle with white vinegar.  Joe sprayed it over Jim's body
and then passed it to Jim to spray Joe.  Greg laughed and accused them of
traveling incognito as salads but what Greg did not know was that vinegar
will take the fire out of a sunburn if it is applied at the time one is
getting burned.

    The trestle was about ten feet above the creek.  We parked the bikes
and walked beneath for a little shade.  There was a cat walk under the
trestle used by the railroad for inspections of the structure.  It was just
wide enough to allow four teenagers to stretch out on its planking for a
rest.  Typical of Greg, he reached over and fondled Jim's hardware and
getting a rise out of him...then crawled over Jim, to fondle Joe.  As he
did so, Joe came to full mast very quickly.  As he gave him some oral
attention...his own appendage hung in Jim's face.  When Jim opened his
mouth...it slide right in.  We all got involved and shortly...large drops
of semen were falling into the water below.

    In those days, there seemed to be an endless supply of testosterone
stimulating us to sex play.  It was not uncommon to ejaculate a half dozen
times in a day.  Today however...it just seemed so tantalizing to be naked
outdoors with little chance of being discovered.

 Because we were all sunburned to some degree or another, we put our
clothing back on, including sunglasses and ball caps.  Climbing back on our
bikes, we resumed our adventure towards Elmo.

    The old railroad bed was lined with trees that hung over the path.
There had been sufficient rain during the spring to make all the vegetation
lush and green.  Whether or not the view interested the others, it made me
feel appreciative to live in an area that was so alive.  I wondered how
years ago, the old steam engine trains chugged down the railway bed with
passengers and supplies for the various rural towns that it bisected.  For
many, it would have been their sole mode of transportation.  Grand dad used
to talk about the railway shipping livestock and food supplies between the
communities.  He remembered when he was a young man, that a local ordered
an automobile called a Packard with a cloth top...and it was delivered by
train to his town.  All the town's folk turned out to see them take it off
the railway flat car.  He said it was a wine red color and had a lot of
chrome trim...and white wall tires that were about six inches wide.  Now
the old line is gone...and only the memories remain for the few who can
remember them.

    A small bridge that we pedaled over brought me back to the present, and
it was just a few hundred feet where we had left our gear this morning.
The tent and supplies were in the area where Dad and I had mowed the tall
grass.

    We arrived at camp at 1:00 according to my wrist watch and fixed
sandwiches.  After a short rest, we pedaled into Elmo which was a little
under a mile away.  Mrs. Baynebridge was there.  She had been waiting for
about an hour with soda pop and some cold pizza.  Even so, the pizza was
good and typical as teenagers, we consumed the pizza as we visited with
her.  She knew a couple of the citizens of Elmo and after being reassured
that we were quite safe...she went on to visit her friends before returning
home.

     We rode our bikes back to camp and arrived just about the time the
family would have been watching the news on TV at home.  Greg had brought a
transistor radio.  The sounds were faint and "tinny" but in those
days...they were the latest fad.  He turned on the radio to "WLS-Chicago"
and a piece of music blared across our campground...a piece called THE
STRIPPER by David Rose and his orchestra.

    We built a fire in a fire ring that we made with stones found along the
rail line at camp and shortly, the smell of burning wood made us all feel
like we had had a great and successful day.  Although we had chips, cookies
and other food items, after consuming Mrs. Baynebridge's Pizzas and
sodas...none of us seem particularly hungry.

    We sat on short logs turned up on ends for stools and fed the fire as
we talked of our adventures of the day.  Greg was all laughs as he told
stories that he had heard in the school locker room...and we laughed with
him as he acted out some of the stories.  We could always count on him to
keep us amused.  We pitched a softball back and forth and talked of another
adventure on bikes...maybe a 50 mile hike on another trail in the
state...knowing that unless our families went, we would not be able to do
it.  As the embers of our fire died down, we popped some popping corn in
one of those Jiffy Pop tins where the top expands and holds the finished
corn.  We had two of them and surprisingly enough...we ate it all and
wished we had brought more.  Sun down brought out the mosquitoes.  We
adjourned to our tent.

    Inside the tent with flashlights to minimize the drawing of insects, we
rolled out our sleeping bags and undressed.  As if on instinct, we all
stripped naked and laid back on our beds as we checked to make sure we all
still had cocks and balls.  Yep, all present.  The Inspection caused
arousal and soon we had paired off, the twins with each other and Greg and
Me, side by side.

    The Baynebridge twins had always been very close and they grew up
experimenting with each other and continued.  Although they had joined Greg
and Me in some mutual sexual encounters...they always ended up gravitating
back to each other.  There is a love and deep tie to one's twin when they
are both of the same gender.  I remember fantasizing about what it would be
like to have your own sex partner laying in the bed next to you...and they
always as eager as you to experience the erotic sensations, over and over
again.

    Greg and I were nearly as close.  We had done things with each other
that a lot of people would have found totally inappropriate...but we had
done them and had intense stimulation and ejaculation.

     With the lights out, I could see Jim and Joe holding each other close,
saw them kiss each other and fondle each other's genitalia.  Finally, they
were embraced in a "69" position and you could hear the sound of saliva
squishing as they sucked each other's prongs.  We could hear the sighs of
intense feeling and the desire for more.  We were at the age when we wanted
more and more.  We were in a hurry to feel the intense release of an
ejaculation...but wanted to prolong the pleasure of working up to it until
it became so strong that we could no longer hold out.

    Jim and Joe would get to the point of almost shooting their load and
back off.  They had become experts in edging.  I liked that concept too,
but Greg had a hair trigger and when he got to the point of no
return...there was little use in trying to delay his ejaculation.  He was
also a screamer...when he started to cum...he would howl like a wolf baying
at the moon.  Many times I put my hand over his mouth to keep him from
alerting other people in the house to what was going on.

    Jim had rolled over on his opposite side and Joe had inserted his
"donkey dick" into his brother and pushed in as far as it would go and then
easing out a bit, would repeat the process.  Jim would moan with delight
and Joe would sigh with contentment as the process progressed.  They were
experts in delay.  As the mid night hour arrived and passed, they were
still edging one another.  Finally, they pulled out and after a quick clean
up with a towel...stroked each other with a slick lube and jacked each
other off...catching the ejaculation in a paper towel that could be cast
into the fire to dispose of the evidence.

    For me, it was much faster.  Greg got to the point of ejaculation very
quickly and discharged his load all over my chest...then lay down between
my legs and sucked me until I was very close.  He lubed a finger and
inserted, massaging my prostate gland...and the ejaculation followed in
less than two minutes.  It was so satisfying...that I rolled over on my
side and Greg snuggled up behind me and put his arm around me.  A couple of
times he kissed the back of my neck...and went to sleep.  I closed my eyes
and drifted off...only to hear Jim or Joe moan with delight as their
interactions continued despite the fact that both had cum.  How wonderful
to have someone you loved so deeply next to you, naked every night.  I
closed my eyes again...and could only hear the night creatures making their
sawing sound as I drifted off into a deep sleep.

    Sometime in the early morning hours, a hoot owl cry woke me.  I sat up
and looked around the tent.  My partners were all soundly asleep.  In the
distance another owl hooted back.  The air had become quite cool.  I
stepped out side the tent for a minute to pee and then slipped back
inside...crawled back into my sleeping bag next to Greg and went back to
sleep.  Yesterday had been such a fun day.  I expected the new day to be
nothing less.  Greg's hand slipped over my chest and pulled me close
again...then descended and found my soft dick.  He held on.


     He moved his fingers ever so slightly but it was enough hitting the
sensitive nerves that ran up and down the inside of my penis to make it
start to harden.  In just a few minutes it was erect as it could get.  He
was still in a sleep like stupor but alert enough to gently flex his
fingers on the sides.  The sensation grew intense and then moved on to very
intense.  I lay still to see if anything was going to happen.  Although the
orgasmic sensations became closer and closer...he did not move up and down
in a jacking-off motion...just touch in a peristaltic motion, exciting the
nerves and muscles in my cock.  I felt the pre-cum start leaking, then
more, the orgasm was starting...then getting more intense.  Still I lay as
quiet as I could.  More semen was coming up the shaft and erupting to the
outside...small secretions, then more sensation and larger secretions until
all of a sudden...I lost it all...and totally shot my load.  The feeling
was indescribable.  I pulled my legs up and thrust my dick into the
air...grabbed a hold and jacked for all I was worth...still the semen
flowed and then a second more intense orgasm as sensation and semen merged
for one final ejaculation.  I was out of breath.  After laying there for a
minute or two, I grabbed a couple of towels from the paper towel roll and
cleaned off my dick, and wiped where I had shot all over my upper thighs
and abdomen.  Now totally spent of energy, I lay back down next to
Greg...scooting close to him and felt him kiss the back of my neck again.

    I rolled over to face him.  He was smiling as light cracked the
horizon.  Reaching down, I found him as hard as I had been a few minutes
ago.  I slipped under his sleeping bag flap and put his dick in my
mouth...and started a slow slide on it.  He became instantly hard.  He
kicked the upper part of his sleeping back and away from him...reached over
for some Vaseline...and handed it to me.  I knew what he wanted.  Taking an
old hand towel from home...I instructed him to raise up enough that I could
slide the towel under his lower extremities so as not to get Vaseline on
his sleeping bag...and lubing my finger...instructed him to turn and get up
on his hands and knees.  As he did so, I pushed his chest down on the
sleeping back with his buttocks in the air.  Lubing my index finger...and
his sphincter, I inserted my finger into his anal canal and stroked his
prostate, in and out, in and out, for the next ten minutes as his dick got
harder and harder.  Taking a small amount of Vaseline on my other hand,
began to stroke his dick.  As he got close, I backed off.  He was enjoying
the stroking as much as I had enjoyed his attention to me earlier.  Finally
he got too close to the edge and started leaking seminal fluid profusely.
A couple of hard strokes with my finger plunging in as far as it would
go...and his orgasm came quickly and intensely.  He start yelping with
erotic grunts and squeals as I milked every last drop from his pulsating
dick.  He dropped onto his sleeping bag, drained physically and
emotionally.  Success!

    Jim and Joe were chuckling at the display they had just witnessed...but
they did not join us.  They were still content with their hours of
interaction last night.  We bantered back and forth how real men could jerk
off at least a half dozen times each day...but, like Jim and Joe, I would
rather have one good experience with someone I cared for then a half dozen
with just anyone.

    We heated water from the water jug so we could clean up as best we
could...and then putting the tent and bags in order and having a bit of
breakfast...we started the trek back to our home town.  There was no
hurry...as we pedaled along and talked among ourselves.  Mosquitoes were
still a little bit of a problem...even with spray on our exposed surfaces.
Although it was suggested that we ride home naked...our better judgment
told us that it was not a good idea.

     At the half way point, we approached the Russell Trestle again and to
our surprise, some of our classmates were wading in the Fish Creek below.
We knew them all, Paul, Pat, Biff, Slug and Reed...all naked as jay birds.
We slipped up on them carefully so they would not see us.  They were trying
to act the macho man roles...but two had erections and the other three were
commenting that they would like to jack off if no one else told.  As we
watched, they all were in some state of masturbating when it was suggested
that perhaps they could jerk each other if no one told on the rest of them.

    We could stand it no longer...and called to them.  They started
grabbing for their clothing...but they knew they were caught.  The
Baynebridge boys quickly joined them and stripped off their clothing too so
the rest would not feel so foolish.  Finally, Greg and I stripped off as
well and joined them in the water.  We did a lot of horse play...but none
of us touched any of the rest of them for fear of starting a rumor.  We
played around in the water and talked and finally we all jacked off
together...each one tending his own needs.  I really think, one on one,
every one would have been willing to share with another...but collectively
they were afraid of being branded as a queer.  One of the boys who we
called Biff, his real name was Jeremiah Biffle, played basketball for our
school and was a lettered track participant.  He was a good scholar, and
had a kind and generous personality.  He dated one of the cheer leaders and
was said to have had a relationship with her...but here he was... hanging
in all his glory with black pubic hair that was straight as a string, hair
on his chest, legs and arms...as black as coal and the deepest piercing
blue eyes.  He was all smiles, and had a come back for every remark.  All
of his friends gravitated towards him because of his friendly personality.
I tried to talk to him, face to face, but could not help but keep looking
at his cock.

     As the others wandered up the Fish Creek a bit looking for muscles in
the water, Biff eased over my way and sat down on the big flat rock next to
me.

    "Sure is a great day to be outside," he said.

    "Sure is," I answered back, " don't you just love summer break?"

     "I do," he responded, "but I kind of miss the social aspect of school.
Have you been to any of the summer dances?"

    "Yeah, I went to the first two last year," I said, "then we went on
vacation and I missed the rest...but this year, I have not gone to any
yet."

    "You should come go with us," Biff responded, "several of the girls
have asked if you would be in town this summer."

    I laughed, "I would like to go...but my family is going to Wisconsin in
a couple of weeks and we will be there the rest of the summer until school
starts."

    "Bummer," Biff replied.  "Do you like going to Wisconsin every year..?"

    "Well, yeah," I returned, "and I miss all my friends here too...but
Wisconsin has fishing, and skiing, and a summer of camping, and canoeing.
It really is a lot of fun."

    "It sounds like a lot of fun," Biff spoke back, "I like to fish and
canoe and camp..."

    "Do you think your parents would let you go with us, if I asked you to
come along," I inquired?

    "Yeah, I think they would.  They have always had a lot of respect for
Professor Jacobson...I think they would let me go.

    "Then I will ask my dad and mom about it this evening when I get home,"
I said to him.

    "Gosh Ben...that would be great.  You wouldn't mind?"


     "I would like for you to go with us...it is a lot of fun and you and I
could take the canoe and go to explore some of the islands," I told
him... "Greg and I explored a lot of the area two summers ago."

    "Greg isn't going with you this year," he asked?

     "Not until after the 4th of July...he is coming up on the train and
will stay with us until we return...but that is ok...the three of us can
have a lot of thing to do."

    "My folks might let me go for a couple of weeks...but I doubt for the
whole summer...but if Greg can come up there by himself on the train...I
could come back here the same way.  I'll ask my parents about it tonight,"
he said.

    "And I will start the ball rolling from this end with my dad and mom,"
I replied.

    He leaned over close enough to speak to me with out the other's hearing
him and said, " I don't mind you looking at my cock.  Yours is not so bad
either."  And saying this...he got up from the rock and splashed around in
the creek with the others hunting for muscles.

    We stayed until a little past noon and after having some peanut butter
sandwiches...dressed and got back on our bikes to head for home.  We waved
to the others and pedaled away.  It was in the middle of the afternoon when
we got home.  To my surprise, my dad had already gone to the campsite and
tore down the tent and packed the gear.  It was all sitting at the edge of
the garage to be put away.

    The trip to Elmo and back had been fun and we had had a good time...but
I was glad to be home and could hear a hot shower calling my name.
Mrs. Baynebridge came over and got Joe and Jim's camping gear.  The boys
pedaled for home behind her car.  Greg too, was glad to head for home.  I
did not tell him of my conversation with Biff.  I thought Greg would be ok
with it...but I was not ready to test him on it.  We shook hands in front
of dad and while we were putting the camping gear back on the shelves in
the garage...he kissed me on the side of my face and hugged me before
pedaling off with a wave.  Our naked bike hike had lived up to everything I
had expected...and even more with this new revelation from Biff.  We would
just have to wait and see what might happen with that.