Published as “The Youthfuls“
Larry Townsend’s Leatherman’s Workbook V2
There used to be an abandoned quarry, not far from the Charles River, in an area of truck farms that separated the Oak Hill section of Newton from the poorer, largely Irish districts to the south. Young men and boys from both areas used to go there, swimming nude in the ponds which had been formed when the digging equipment struck underground wells. Of these resultant pools, there were two which became the principal centers of activity. One was called “Deepers”, and was located in a marshy surround, except for one side where a sloping gravel beach permitted easy access to the water. Most of the boys who swam here were older and “tougher”, coming from the immigrant settlements which supplied many of the workers in Boston’s industrialised districts.
The second pond was less than half a mile away in a more open area, with trees and shrubs growing around the edges of a wide, sandy tract that dipped gently on all sides toward a smaller body of collected rain water—possibly fed by one or two small springs beneath the surface. The younger boys swam here, and during the warm days of midsummer their numbers were increased by the sixteen to eighteen-year-olds who walked or cane by bicycle from the wealthier Newton residences. This pond was called “The Shallows”.
Generally, the two groups remained in their own respective areas, the Deepers kids regarding the others as “weak little rich boys”, while those who swam in The Shallows were somewhat apprehensive of their rougher, quasi-gang-oriented “Cat’lic” neighbors. One of the more interesting observations one might have made, were he inclined to seek a physical difference between the two groups of naked young men, was that those who went to Deepers were uniformly uncircumcised, while most of the boys in The Shallows were clipped according to the dictates of medical science, then becoming the vogue.
Whereas most of the kids who frequented either Deepers of The Shallows knew only the main dirt roads leading into the old quarry, seldom taking time to explore the numerous paths and trails which wound through the woods enclosing the open, sandy stretches, there was one youth who knew these very well. His name was Skip, and he came from one of the better homes in the Oak Hill section. By force of circumstance, Skip was a loner this year, because his parents had insisted on sending him to prep school in Connecticut. Now, during summer vacation, he found himself without friends or companions. At sixteen, he was considerably more sophisticated than most of the others. Not only had his boarding school education exposed him to a broader intellectual world, but nightly activities in the dorm had greatly enhanced his knowledge of other disciplines as well. For this reason, he suffered a dual frustration: he was alone, able to see the naked bodies of other boys whom he desired, but did not know how to approach them. Instead, he would often watch from some place of concealment, thinking back on the times he’d allowed things to happen to him in school—wondering if these kids would perform as several of the senior boys had in the basement.
By mid-July, Skip was fully familiar with all of the hidden trails, continuing his practice of hiding in the woods to watch activities both in The Shallows and Deepers. But he remained particularly enticed by the older, more fully developed boys who frequented the latter location. A tall, handsome youngster, himself—dark brown hair, green eyes, and a body made solid and well defined by his classes in gymnastics—Skip could not fully identify himself with either group. The Shallows boys were mostly younger than he; those at Deepers came from a much different background, and he was apprehensive… almost afraid of them. On those occasions when he stripped and swan, it was in the smaller, sandy Shallows.
Thus, one early afternoon when a group of four youths arrived at Deepers, Skip was in the water at the other pond, with a couple of younger boys. Due to the circuitous course of the road leading to the larger pond, the new arrivals did not see the other boys until after they had removed their clothes and spent some time cavorting about the gravel beach and in the water. In the course of this play, Tim—leader of the group, called “The Duke” by his followers—and his younger brother Paul, climbed to the top of a low bluff above Deepers, From this vantage point, they could see a portion of The Shallows, where Skip and his two companions were standing on the sand, apparently engaged in a circle jerk. Curious, Tim and Paul moved closer, being careful to keep themselves hidden behind various rocks or clumps of brush. The bright sunlight had already dried their bodies, but Tim felt moisture forming again in his armpits. A warm excitement gripped his loins, and glancing down he noted the outward curve of his cock, grown thicker and heavier in the last few moments. Paul noticed it, too; and laughing, made a playful grab for the swollen protuberance.
“You’re gettin’ a boner!” he said.
Tim, having avoided the other’s fingers, now stroked his own midsection, allowing his hand to touch the patch of flame—red hair. “I’d sure like to have that big guy pull me,” he said softly.
They had reached a clump of low brush, near the dirt road which passed directly above the sandy incline. Skip and his companions had moved apart, the younger boys starting to put their clothes on.
“The other two don’t have any hair on their balls, yet,” Paul whispered.
“Like you,” scoffed his brother.
“I do so!” protested Paul. “At least, a little bit.” He looked down at his own pubescent groin, touching the few delicate sprouts of twisting fuzz that would one day equal his brother’s in color and density. This slowly developing manhood was a matter of grave concern to Paul, who was included in his brother’s gang only because of the latter’s leadership. He knew this, and especially when they stripped for their occasional swim sessions, he was very conscious of lacking a full badge of maturity. Tim, approaching eighteen and already finished with school, would soon be entering the Marines. Thus Paul’s anxiety was all the more profound.
“Should I try to get him over to Deepers?” Paul asked.
His brother hesitated a few minutes, watching the group as it started to break up. The pair of younger boys were ready to leave, picking their bicycles up from the sand, while Skip—still naked—was starting up the far side, apparently heading for the place where he had hidden his clothes. Tim stood as their quarry moved out of sight, behind an intervening rise of sand, “Go tell him the Duke wants to have him pull his prick,” he said.
Very conscious of the heavy warmth slapping against his thighs, he turned and walked slowly back to Deepers. He did not expect much to result from his brother’s efforts, although the idea of it continued to excite him. He had felt another boy’s hand on his cock any number of times, as this was part of the initiation into his gang… an act of humility and submission. It occurred to him that he might have utilized his other two followers as support, and forced the big, handsome kid to jack him off; but Tim was a little afraid of these rich kids from the expensive suburbs. If he really scared one of them, there was always the possibility of the parents finding out… and then?
Paul ran the distance to the place where he had last glimpsed Skip, then followed the path into a shallow depression where the other had disappeared. Afraid the young man would be dressed and on his way before he caught up, Paul almost tumbled into the clearing, desperately anxious to carry out his brothers casual instructions… certain that success would bring the accolades he badly needed. He now stopped short, staring in surprise into the equally startled face of the taller, older boy.
Skip, aroused and unsatisfied by his brief exchange beside the water, had returned to the hidden glade where he assumed he was completely alone. Using a piece of clothesline he normally kept coiled around the support under the seat of his bicycle, he had tied himself to a small tree. He had just begun his secret, ritualized fantasy of self-manipulations when Paul burst into the clearing. Startled and embarrassed, he stood speechless in his semi-restricted posture, unable to free himself without several minutes’ effort. The rope was secured to the base of his cock and balls, passing around the sapling to hold him firmly against the trunk, with the upper end tied about his throat. He had used the dangling end of the line from his genitals to partially tie his hands together in front of him, leaving sufficient leeway for access to his rigid, pulsing shaft.
“The Duke sure would like to see you that way,” said Paul at length.
Skip had managed to free his hands and was starting to untie the rope from about his neck. The sudden appearance of the other boy had frightened him, and he expected to see a number of others emerge from the underbrush at any moment. He was all the more distressed, because he had not realized anyone else was present in the quarry area.
“Wait a second,” Paul urged. He stepped up to the partially bound figure and placed his hands on the other’s arms. “I’m by myself,” he added by way of assurance. “The other guys are at Deepers.”
Skip hesitated, already aroused to a point where the need for sexual gratification was overcoming his fright and natural caution. There was a compelling, mysterious promise in the other’s attitude. “What do you want me to do?” he asked. “And… and the Duke; who’s the Duke?”
“The Duke’s my brother,” Paul explained. “He’s at Deepers with a couple of other guys. He sent me over to get you.”
“Get… get me for what?” Skip asked.
Paul’s hand slid down and grasped the arch of cock, now slowly softening above Skip’s groin. “Duke says he wants you to pull him,” Paul replied. “He’s the boss, so all the guys have to do it,” he added.
Skip’s body had stiffened at the other’s touch, his back pressed hard against the tree as a series of imaginary situations flashed through his mind. “Is that all he wants me to do?” he asked hoarsely.
It was Paul’s turn to hesitate, as the captive’s tone implied his willingness to do more… what, he wasn’t sure. He had never seen or heard of the others engaging in anything more, and had never really thought about it… could only vaguely imagine what else there might be to do. “Yeah… guess that’s all he wants,” Paul answered finally. “What… what else…?” His hand remained on the other’s cock, alternately squeezing and releasing its grip.
Skip untied the rope from his neck and let it fall, which released him from the tree, while the other end remained secured to his genitals. “If you promise they won’t hurt me … won’t beat up on me or anything, I’ll show you,” Skip offered. He was fearful again, and knew he might be walking into a trap. But the blood was pounding hotly through his body, and the need for release overrode everything else.
“They won’t hurt you,” said Paul. “If they did, and you told your old man, he might cause trouble.”
“Okay,” Skip replied softly. He stood facing the younger boy, making no move to untie the rope from around his cock and balls.
Very pleased with himself, Paul started to lead the way to Deepers. “Come on,” he said simply.
“Wait up!” Skip called to him. “Don’t you… ah, wanta bring me back… like… like your… prisoner?”
Paul stopped, turning toward the older boy. He could hardly believe it! Here was a guy… bigger and stronger than he was… a rich kid from the suburbs, practically begging to… “You mean you want me to… like tie you up and… and…”
“Sure. Tie my hands in back of me. Leave the end around my nuts and tie the other around my neck. That’ll leave a leash, and you can lead me back like that.”
Paul didn’t take time to question his good fortune. Before the other might have time to change his mind he hurried back and bound the unresisting wrists with the end of rope which his captive obligingly pulled back for him, between the legs. “Now around my neck,” Skip whispered.
Paul wrapped the free end around the older youth’s throat, secured it with a slip knot and retained his hold on the remaining couple of feet. “Now I’m your prisoner,” said Skip in a throaty murmur.
“Yeah, ya sure are!” Paul replied. “Ya sure are!” His own, half developed cock stood stiffly in front of him as he surveyed the subdued potential of the bigger boy. He felt a sense of power he had never know before, and he could hardly wait to see the expressions on his companions’ faces when they witnessed his triumphant return. Hauling on the rope, he started back toward the Deepers. “C’mon,” he said.
