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Dinosaur bones
Post #1
The expedition was going exactly as we planned. A hundred miles into the
woods -- (okay, a quarter of a mile from my house...use your imagination) -- we set up base camp. It was still a good hour before dark, so Jory started rummaging through his supply pack for the tools. It wasn't our first dig. We were professionals. But this time, we were going for the big bones. He took out a long leather case from his pack, unrolled it and spread it on the ground outside of the tent. Neither one of us cared that the leather case was really one of my mom's dish towels -- the gross green one with the dancing cats -- and the digging tools were a few various spoons from her silverware drawer. When you've got the museum back in London crawling up your ass for a major archeological discovery, you don't have time to let the kitchen sneak in. My name's Kane. I'm 12. Jory is Jory. He's 12, too. We live in Rhode Island, so if you're trying to find us on your map, lean in close and keep your glasses on. We live in the same town, go to the same school, do the same things, like the same people. It's a pretty easy life. No complaints. My name is really spelled "Kayne," but I took the "Y" out two years ago because it looked dumb. My mom still shits her pants about it and yells at me to put it back in. No way. It's gone. With the "Y" in there, people kept calling me "Kay-nee." Even teachers. How they mess that one up, I'll never know. Dyslexia, I guess. Jory's real name is "Jordan." He doesn't like it. "Much too basketball," he told me. We both agree that sports basically suck. You sweat too much, your legs hurt, and you have to wear a jock. Not exactly a picnic. So, even though he's a Jordan, he leaves the "D" out. If a kid's name is Jordan, you'd pretty-much expect people to call him "Jordy." But he hates that. I guess he got the hots over my missing "Y," so he took out his "D" to keep up. Competition is fierce with nickname letters. The reason we started hanging out together is...we both have stupid names. I mean, face it. When you're walking around with a Kayne and you bump into a Jordan, you're pretty-much destined to be a match. It's like, one step up from being a Floyd and a Walter. You run for cover and hope nobody notices. "Any sign of limestone deposits?" Jory asked. He squinted into the setting sun and scanned the terrain with a fake telescope. "Down a little farther," I pointed. "They should be right over there, if the map is right." I unfolded the map from my pack and laid it out in front of me, just to make sure. Yep. It looked promising. (Okay, so it was really a Warwick city map I ripped out of the downstairs phone book, but let's not get technical.) "Better get going," he said, wrapping up the tools. "Sun's going down." Spoons clinked. Dancing cats disappeared face down, thank God. We hiked up the path away from our base camp. We'd been at this dig site before, with no major results. A few pterodactyl skulls. A frozen Neanderthal. The usual. "The problem with dinosaur bones," Jory began in his English archeologist's accent (which truly sucked), "is the depth Escort in which they lay." "Here, here, Old Chap," I replied quickly. (That was my best line.) "If we're lucky to find a wall of limestone, Dear Boy, we should be able to dig from the bottom up...and we'll stand a much better chance of going home wealthy." I giggled. Wealthy. I swear, he kills me. "How much is the museum offering, Professor?" I asked as we hiked. "Millions, Dear Boy. Pounds and pounds and pounds." I wasn't quite sure what a pound was, but what the hell, it sounded accurate. We found our limestone -- (really just a hill of dirt) -- and unrolled the spoons and started to work. I reached into the backpack and pulled out my mom's mascara thingy to brush away the dust. It wasn't the first one she'd lost for the glory of England. "Nothing," he announced after 45 minutes of various digging, and moving, and digging again. Flipping out the map, I joined him in frustration. The sun was setting more quickly now. The remains of daylight were just starting to crawl under the horizon. "Tomorrow, Old Chap," I told him cheerfully. "We'll find those bones in the morning. We're close. I can feel it." He sighed and rolled up the tools. I shared his disappointment. When all of London is counting on your next discovery, you sort of hate to fuck up and go to bed. Archeology can be stressful like that. "Tomorrow," he echoed. Then looking up at the dimming sky, he added, "We'd better head back for camp." We hiked back down the path and back to our tent. In the movies, they're usually brown and made out of canvas. Ours was red and made out of K-Mart. We sat outside for a while, watching the last of the sun disappear. Then the woods were dark and quiet. We didn't light a campfire -- our moms would shit if they saw smoke coming up from the woods -- they'd probably come running up in their nightgowns with fire extinguishers screaming their heads off. No. We just sat together and enjoyed the darkness. Jory reached over and held my hand. I squeezed back and he smiled. This part wasn't new either. I leaned over closer and laid my head on his shoulder. He stroked my hair as we sat there outside of our tent, peaceful and happy, listening to the crickets chirp and enjoying the warmth of our body heat. It was a nice night -- not too cold -- just the slightest breeze in the air, making it feel even more comfortable to be sitting so close to him like that. We were very private about our closeness, so we didn't talk. We weren't ashamed of it or anything. It just didn't need words, that's all. I felt him kiss the top of my head, so I closed my eyes and smiled. With one hand, I reached up and stroked his face. Cool, smooth skin danced across my fingertips. I could hear him breathing. It was a peaceful, relaxing sound. It filled me with happiness. "Let's go in," he smiled. "I'm ready for bed." I grinned at him and unzipped the tent flap. We crawled inside and rolled out our sleeping bags. We opened them up all the way -- put one on the ground for a mattress and the other on top for a blanket. Escort Bayan We'd gone way past the separate sleeping bag stage ten months ago, last summer. That's when we first started doing stuff. Now we just slept together...laid down next to each other and turned our sleeping bags into a bed for two. I felt myself melt into his arms like I always did. We kissed quietly, stroking each others' hair...running our hands across each others' faces. I liked this part a lot. It was nice. I felt safe there. He traced his finger across my lip and smiled at me as I kissed it gently. I took it into my mouth and sucked lightly. I bit it and he laughed. We helped each other take our clothes off -- there was no hurry -- no shyness. Just a nice, relaxed stretching as our shoes and socks came off...then our jeans...then our shirts...then our underwear. He was wearing white briefs like he always did. In the moonlight through the tent, they almost glowed. Our eyes were adjusted to the dark, so we watched each other attentively, enjoying the slow stripping. His smooth chest glowed in dark purple...blue moonlight shining through the red fabric of the tent. I leaned forward and kissed his neck. He was so warm and soft and beautiful. He laid back down and let me kiss him. I liked to do all the work first, while he laid there and sighed. I like the noises he made when I kissed his body. They were soft. Excited. Urgent and free. His hands stroked my back as I kissed my way down his chest. They felt so warm and strong. He was so nice to me during the times we did this. So soft. Never hurried or gross or embarrassed. He let me take my time, kissing his soft stomach, giving it little licks and tastes as I moved my way downward toward his dick. We were both very hard already -- that part never took us long at all -- so, stopping briefly to lick the base of his dick, just below his stomach -- I moved down quickly and took him fully into my mouth. I felt his body tense as he laid back and sighed, enjoying the sensation, eager for more. I sucked him slowly -- making up and down motions, circling his head with my tongue, enjoying the flavor...swallowing my own salty, sweaty spit as I went down on him, deeper and deeper. He was close. I could tell. Pulling my head up, not wanting it to end too soon, he sat up from the sleeping bag and leaned over my lap. He wrapped his lips around my dick and cupped by balls in his hand. I moaned gently as he moved his mouth up and down on my shaft...caressing my balls, rubbing them gently in his warm, cupped palm. Without a word, I pulled him from me and laid down on my stomach. That was the way I liked it best. On my stomach, feeling his weight on me. Listening to the soft, hard, grunting sounds he made as he pushed himself in and out of me, building toward his finish. He spread my butt cheeks and put some of his spit on my hole. I tingled when he touched me there. I liked his warmth and his wetness. I liked knowing what was coming next. He coated his dick with more spit and slowly laid down on me. I felt the pressure of his penis as he lined it up with Bayan Escort my hole and the sharp, stabbing entry as he pushed himself in. It scared me the first few times...but now I was used to it. I knew the painful part didn't last very long. "Is it okay?" he whispered, his voice shaky and soft. "Fine," I smiled. "Go slow." He started moving, barely pressing at all, then I felt him push it all the way in. He stayed really still for a minute, letting me adjust to the pressure. He was always very gentle and he never went too fast. He always made sure I was feeling okay before he started going again. Hearing my breathing relax, he started pumping in and out, doing it to me. God, it felt so good. I loved the feeling so much. I lay there on my stomach, my head turned sideways and breathed in rhythm to his slow, steady pushes. I tried to match his breathing. It made me feel like I was part of him. And as his hard dick slid in and out of me, I felt filled with so much wonderful pressure -- not at all bad -- just good, full, constant movement. I moaned, and pushed my butt back to meet his slow pumping. He liked that a lot, when I pushed back against him, trying to get more. "It's not going to take me long," he whispered, almost apologizing. "That's okay," I smiled, enjoying the feeling. "You can go hard now. It doesn't hurt." He picked up his pace almost immediately. He laid down across my back, putting his full weight on me, which I loved more than anything. I felt so completely secure and surrounded when I was under him like that. I wished I could lay like that all night. He kissed the back of my neck, giving me shivers. His hips continued to pump in and out of me -- faster -- harder -- jabbing urgently, filling me with so many good feelings....a burning, a wildness...things I can't describe. I could see colors in my head as he rammed himself in and out of me. Blues and greens and sparkly yellows. It was so nice and strong. So natural. So full and amazing and good. "Now," I urged him. "Do it now." He thrust in forcefully -- there was no pain at all -- and I gasped in full, complete surrender as he buried himself as far as he could and tensed his whole body -- his few drops of sweet cum jerking into my ass, filling me with warmth and pleasure. "Wow..." he gasped, slowing down, adding a few more hesitant, sensitive strokes. "That was so nice. You're so warm in there. It's like this incredible heat, all around me." "Mmmmm," I smiled, closing my eyes, letting him lay there on my back, resting. In a few moments, he pulled himself out of me. I felt the familiar emptiness and ache as he laid down by my side. The worst part was when it was over. But then I leaned over and put my head on his chest, draping one arm over him and listening to his heart, still beating rapidly under my ear. "I love you, Kane," he whispered gently. "I love you too, Jory," I answered, already sleeping. The purple night turned into sweet, slumbering silence. Nothing but our breathing filled the air for miles around. We laid there sweetly, holding each other. Two explorers. A remarkable find. And a new morning ahead of us...made out of love and adventure and 12-year-old dreams. ____________________________________________ END |
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