Fourteen, almost fifteen year-old Jerrod Whitney sat on the bottom step of the back porch bored out of his skull. In the fashion typical of early adolescence, he was wallowing in self-pity, partly because he’d been practically booted out the door by his mom when she’d had enough of hearing him whine about having nothing to do, and partly because he couldn’t think of anything to do. After listening to him complain all morning, Mrs. Whitney finally threw up her hands and yelled, “For pity’s sake give it a rest, will you? Go ride your bike or take a walk or something! Jesus, Jerrod, have you no imagination? Are you not able to function on your own?”
Barely a week into summer vacation between eighth and ninth grade and he felt like he’d been abandoned. His best friend, Adam was off with his own family for two weeks at their cabin in the Smokies. His other best friend, Will, was grounded for swatting his little sister on the butt when she called him a big weenie, and the fourth member of the clique, Scott, the group’s dim bulb, was in summer school because he failed eighth grade math and English. Again. That left absolutely nobody to hang with.
Electronic entertainment was out of the picture, too, because his mom was really strict about how much time he spent watching TV and surfing the web, and he wouldn’t be getting a smartphone until he turned sixteen. That was over a year away.
Exasperated and feeling terribly abused, Jerrod stood up and thought, “Screw it! And screw Mom and screw everybody!” He crossed the back yard and headed down the alley toward the edge of town and the beginning of Bowman Wood. He and his friends had explored several square miles of the dense deciduous forest thoroughly through the years, and they knew practically every tree, rock and stream in what they considered to be their territory. But even knowing it as well as they did, they nearly always found something new and interesting every time they played war or whatever diversion they could invent to spend a day in the woods and out of earshot of their parents.
If his dad were still living with them, they might have taken the .22 and gone hunting for rats at the landfill, but his folks were divorced and now his dad lived halfway across the country with his new wife. Jerrod missed him something awful, and sometimes he wished the custody award had gone the other way.
He hopped from rock to rock as he crossed the shallow twelve-food wide creek and followed the well-worn trail into the trees, soon arriving at the fork where it split off three ways. To the left would take him south toward a hidden area off the highway where the high school kids liked to park and make out. Sometimes Jerrod and his friends would hide in the brush on a Friday evening and spy on them. Once, he and Will actually saw a couple fucking in the back of an old Ford station wagon. Well, they didn’t actually see the guy put his dick in the girl’s pussy; in fact, all they saw of the girl was her naked legs wrapped around the guy’s waist, but through the fogged up side window they could make out his bare, lily-white butt bouncing up and down enthusiastically. Imagining the rest was pretty easy, and they couldn’t resist jerking off right there in front of each other. Since then, they’d grown to be not the least bit shy about doing that. They hadn’t gotten around to doing it to each other, although it was probable they’d given it some thought. Neither would want to be the first one to suggest it.
Going straight ahead would take him toward the radio station, but there was nothing of any interest that way. The right fork led deeper into the forest where the trail ended at a large open area with a good-sized pond. He and his buddies used to catch crawdads and salamanders and skinny-dip in that pond when it was warm enough. It was about a two-mile hike, and getting there would take up a fair chunk of the afternoon, so that’s the way Jerrod chose to go.
There was little chance of him getting lost because even if he wandered off the trail, he knew that if he followed the afternoon sun, he’d eventually walk out of the wood and onto Frank Bowman’s farm. Mr. Bowman was stinking rich and owned the biggest farm in the county as well as a significant patch of the forest west of town; hence the name.
Actually, the locals named it Bowman Wood because the town fathers tried unsuccessfully for years and years to buy it. They wanted to log it and sell off the lumber, then expand the city limits and put in a couple of new subdivisions. Bowman adamantly refused, and when he was pressured, he successfully petitioned the state to designate every square inch of his wood as a wildlife sanctuary. Hunting was strictly forbidden, and those poachers who were caught wound up paying huge fines. The town fathers finally accepted defeat and expanded the town in the other direction.
The only area Jerrod and his buddies hadn’t explored was north of the pond. Not that there was any particular reason not to, they’d just never gotten around to it.
The day was pretty hot, probably in the low nineties, but the shade of the forest knocked a few degrees off that. Jerrod, dressed in cutoff jeans, a faded blue T-shirt and an old pair of Nike’s, snapped a four-foot limb off a dead maple tree to use as a walking stick and struck north toward the glade and the pond. There were quite a few deer in the wood and he was hoping he might surprise one or two along the way. There were supposedly black bears in the forest too, but none had been spotted in the area for years, so he wasn’t too worried about it.
He jumped across a small streamlet that fed into the creek and headed up the first hill, letting his mind wander. For a while he imagined himself a frontiersman in the manner of Daniel Boone, striking out across the Appalachians in search of new territory to settle, ever alert for dangerous wildlife, bandits and unfriendly natives. With any luck, he’d run across a Cherokee village and spend a couple of nights in the arms of a beautiful Indian princess at the invitation of her father, the chief. He’d be made an honorary member of the tribe and learn to speak their language. He could use that knowledge and status later to lead groups of settlers to new homes across the mountains.
Tiring of the frontier fantasy, Jerrod then envisioned himself exploring a newly discovered planet light years away from Mother Earth. Because of runaway global warming, the world’s ecosystems were collapsing, and he was sent through a recently discovered wormhole to find a new home for humanity in a distant star system. He was leading his team through a dense, steamy jungle inhabited by carnivorous plants, giant flying creatures and incredibly dangerous six-legged predators. He held his phaser/walking stick at the ready to blast the first threat that dared show its ugly face.
An hour’s hike found him at the edge of the glade, maybe a hundred yards across. The pond was an approximately seventy-five by one hundred foot oval, no more than ten feet deep in the middle. It was spring-fed, so it never dried up and the water was clean, or at least not stagnant, and it was pretty much surrounded on three sides by rushes and cattails, leaving an open stretch along the near bank where he and his friends stripped and waded in for a swim. They’d built a rock fire pit nearby where they could roast wieners and marshmallows when they were allowed to camp out overnight once or twice during the summer.
Jerrod looked at the clear, inviting water reflecting the forest on the other side of the glade, and decided, “Why not?”
The warm air felt heavy, and the only sounds of life were from the birds, most of which he could identify by their songs. He easily picked out a cardinal, a crested titmouse and a Carolina chickadee. And doves, of course. There was never a shortage of doves. A pair of blue jays scolded him for being too near their nest.
He stripped naked and hung his cutoffs, T-shirt and underwear on the limb of an oak tree. His lean, suntanned body was just beginning to take on adult male characteristics by way of a dark pubic patch and tufts of hair in his armpits. His legs were starting to get kind of hairy too and he figured he’d probably wind up looking like his dad in that respect. Naked, Mr. Whitney looked like an undersized Sasquatch with hair everywhere, even on his back. He also had an impressively large penis, the genetic code for which he’d kindly passed on to his only son.
The water was warm but several degrees cooler than the surrounding air as Jerrod waded in a few feet before diving underwater and frog-kicking almost all the way across to the cattails. Then he laid back and slowly paddled his way around the pond taking in the sun and the peace and quiet. He was feeling better now because the hike and the exercise had gotten him over his little snit.
A few minutes of idle drifting got Jerrod wondering what to do next, and he thought he might do a little bit of exploring into the territory north of the pond. If he found anything interesting, he’d have something to hold over his friends the next time they got together.
He waded up onto the bank to walk around for a couple of minutes in the warm air, drying off a bit before getting dressed. And while he waited, and as long as he had time on his hands, he might as well jerk one off. It felt kind of exciting to do it right out in the open, and once he got his dick hard, it didn’t take long at all to spew out a few shots of baby juice; young teenage penises being as sensitive and volatile as they are.
.... There is more of this story ...