Carnal Carny

I put a soft rock CD on the boombox and cracked open two beers. “Here ya go,” I said, proffering him one. He took a deep slug and began coughing and choking. “Careful,” I said. “That ain’t no Dr. Pepper.”

Benjy grinned sheepishly. “I’m not very experienced at drinking,” he said.

“What are you experienced at?” I asked, casting an eye on his crotch for any sign of a growing bulge. There was none.

“Farm chores, mostly. I wanted to go to community college, but Dad’s laid up with a bad back, and they need me to work on the farm pretty much full time.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

He stared back at me with an open, innocent expression, totally clueless as to what I was getting at.

“Ya ever fooled around? With a girl, I mean? Or a buddy?”

He blushed. “Naw. The minister says we should save ourselves for the girl we marry. Dad says that’s hogwash, though,” he added quickly. “Dad says I owe it to my future wife to know what I’m doing, so I can bring her pleasure and satisfaction. But Ma says to listen to the preacher. I dunno who to believe. So far, though, there hasn’t been any girl I really specially wanted to do it with anyhow.”

Bingo!

“What about the guys?”

“Guys?”

“Yeh,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “When there’s no girl around to take the pressure off you, it’s good to have a buddy who can help you out. Ain’t nothing wrong with a little mutual cooperation…ya know what I mean?”

He took a deep breath and said, “You mean like me an’ Ray?”

“That depends. What do you and Ray do together?”

“Nothing anymore. He’s gone and gotten himself married. But once—well, twice, actually—we had like a contest to see which of us could shoot our stuff the fastest.”

“Did you help each other out?”

“You mean touch each other? Naw, nothin’ like that! We just, you know, watched each other do it. It was pretty hot!” he added in a burst of honesty, as if confiding a deep secret.

“I’ve done that,” I told him, “but it’s even hotter if you help each other along.”

“That’s queer stuff!”

“The word is ‘gay’, but you don’t have to be gay to do that kind of thing,” I said, leaning in toward him and putting a comradely hand on his shoulder. “What do you think sailors on submarines do when they’re away from women for months at a time?”

Benjy furrowed his brow. “I never thought about it.”

“Think about it now,” I said, sliding my hand down from his shoulder to his chest and tweaking his nipple through his shirt.

“Hey! What are you doing?”

“Making you feel good.”

“That’s my—you know—that’s girl stuff!”

“Men have nipples too. And men have good feelings in their nips, same like girls do. Relax, Benjy. You’re way too tense. Here—let me give you a massage. Ease those tense muscles. Lie down on the bed. Face down. Take your shirt off. You can leave your pants on.” But not for long, I mentally added.

He looked at me dubiously with that sweet face, and my heart grew almost as warm as my dick did. There was something incredibly appealing about this earnest, sweet, shy, inexperienced young farmboy. Yes, I wanted his body, and yes, I wanted to be his teacher…but it was more than that. I had a mental vision of his riding from town to town with me, sharing the work by day and sharing my bed by night. Of course, I really ran a one-man operation, but maybe I could get him a job as a roustabout or a fry cook with the carnival.

Shaking my head clear of such daydreams, I straddled his thighs, plunked my hands on his shoulder blades, and began to knead his muscles deeply. He really was tense, and at first, at the feel of my hands on his bare skin, he tensed up even further. As I continued persuading those muscles to let go, however, he finally began to loosen up and sink down into the bedding. Ahhhhh.

“Doesn’t that feel better?” I asked, and I worked my way south to his glutes. He tensed again when I slipped my hands into the top of his jeans and started massaging his butt muscles. “Why don’t you unbuckle your belt and unsnap your jeans? That way I can massage everywhere you need it. No professional masseur worth his salt would ignore a client’s gluteus maximus,” I said. My voice had dropped to a low, persuasive purr, and after a minute of hesitation, Benjy succumbed to my suggestion and did as I’d said.

Tugging his pants down, I got at his butt cheeks, squeezing them tenderly, and then, when he seemed really relaxed, I slipped my two thumbs into the crevice between his cheeks. My thumbs in his ass-crack were still squeezing his glutes, but I was deliberately close to his butt pucker, and I felt Benjy tense up again. This time, though, he didn’t seem tensed in fear or concern or resistance. This time I could feel the sexual current running through him.

I moved my right thumb directly on top of his wrinkled sphincter and lightly rubbed it, feeling Benjy’s body wriggle with delight and excitement. “What—what are you doing?” he asked.

“Making you feel good,” I purred. “There are lots of ways to make a fellow feel good. This is one of them. Now that you’re nice and relaxed, let’s see what other kinds of good feelings we can give you.”

“I—I don’t know…”

“Yes, you do,” I used my most hypnotic voice. “You know it feels good. You know what you want.” I eased my thumb carefully but determinedly into the clench of his assring.

“Oooh!” he said, sounding startled.

“Just relax and go with it,” I urged him, beginning to work my thumb slowly and seductively in and out of his asshole. Then I pulled my thumb out and replaced it with my index finger, crooking the finger, the better to rub his asswalls with.

Benjy’s body, with a will of its own, was now slowly but determinedly grinding down into the mattress. Sliding my other hand beneath him, I felt for the hardness I knew I would find there and, sure enough, encountered a fully erect dick. I began to squeeze it rhythmically.