“I’m going exploring in the creek,” I said, as I breezed by my mother in the kitchen. That shouldn’t make her antenna buzz, I didn’t think. Exploring in the creeks was something fourteen-year-old boys did.

“You need to take that fishing pole with you to play in the creek?” she asked. So, we got past the question of being allowed to play in the creek.

“You never know what could be in there.”

“Not fish big enough to catch with a fishing pole,” she responded. I kept on walking, though, and she didn’t say anything about putting the fishing pole back in the garage, so I kept it. “Just the creek. Don’t go all the way down to the closed reservoir,” she said.

“Yeah, just the creek,” I lied. And then I was free, out of the house, going down through our backyard to what was a stream here but more of a creek down further and then, beyond the double fencing that had been put in to isolate the old reservoir, which was closed to the public now.

I spent some time fucking around in the stream below the house in case my mom was checking up on me and then I moved off, further downstream to the creek and, eventually to the fences closing off the reservoir. I knew just where the fences had been cut and could be pulled back to get in. All of the kids knew where they could easily get into the reservoir. So did the homeless guys who lived in there.

I went half way around the periphery of the lake, walking parallel to the shore, until I got to where the path ran higher up the hillside from the water. There I left the easily seen path and took one not so clear down the hill, through the trees and to a somewhat hidden cove—hidden from view not just from the surrounding land, but not easily picked out from the water either. This was what my homeless friends had found as a perfect, private spot to do their fishing.

Casey and Ray were both there, with their fishing poles out into the water. They’d already brought in what they told me were several bass, which they said this lake had been supplied with when a storm had broken the pens of a hatchery above the reservoir a decade earlier and let a lot of the fish flop down into the lake.

Casey and Ray were sort of homeless guys. They did seasonal construction work and they had a camper up in the woods from the lake, but they liked to fish here—and they liked boys like me—fourteen or fifteen—visiting them. Casey was the older of the two, in his late thirties, I thought. He was tall and thin—wiry or gaunt, I think you’d say, because his body was hard. There just wasn’t any extra meat on the bones. Ray, who was black, was the better-looking of the two, but not the smarter. He was younger, maybe in his mid-twenties and he worked out a lot—he had a muscular body that glistened in the sun. He aroused me more than Casey did, but he hurt me more when he put it in.

They were both just in athletic shorts when I came down to them. I pulled my T-shirt off so I’d be the same, crouched down between the two of them on the grassy spot on the lakeshore and cast my line into the lake. They each had a line in too, but they weren’t holding the rods—more like improvised tree branches with fishing line attached. Their poles worked as good, or better, than my rod did. And it was different poles I’d come to the reservoir for. They had the poles anchored in rocks. They had a couple of six packs of beer and, greeting me with a “Hi there, Ross,” they popped the tab on one and handed it to me.

They didn’t have any reservations about giving me stuff like beer—or even liquor when they got a bottle of that to share—or a cigarette, if I’d wanted one. I didn’t want a cigarette, and I didn’t particularly like the taste of it on Casey’s lips when we were kissing. They also didn’t have any reservations about giving to and taking anything else from me. I liked that. I liked especially that I was learning about life and adult things and being helped to figure out what my likes and preferences were. Casey used a different position with me each time I visited.

I’d learned from Casey and Ray that my preferences were men.

“Don’t land all the way over there, Ross,” Casey said. “Anchor your pole and then come sit with me.” When I went over to him, where he was sitting on the ground as it sloped down to the lakeshore, he spread and bent his legs and pulled me down to sit between his thighs, my back to his chest. His big, rough hands went immediately to palming my chest, his thumbs going to my nipples, and moving down to my belly, and I leaned back into him with a sigh. His lips were buried in the hollow of my throat, and I moaned for him.

These guys got right to it when I visited. They were a randy pair. That was fine with me. I couldn’t be away from home for long.

Ray was crouching over at the side, watching us, but I knew he was going to have his turn with me too. It was always Casey first because Ray was a bull of a man. Casey opened me so that I could take Ray. It still hurt when Ray put it in, but I felt more heat and satisfaction from Ray’s fucking.

Casey took his time getting me ready. He moved his hands over my chest and belly and down below my waistband, getting me to groan as he reached down far enough to cup my balls and get his fingers around the root of my cock. I hardened up for him and turned my face to his, opening my lips for his tongue to snake in, as he unbuttoned and unzipped me and pushed my shorts down my legs to bunch around my knees. I gently rocked my body against his, helping with the stroking on my cock. He moved a hand between us, between his belly and my back, and pulled the front of his athletic shorts to hook the waistband under his balls. He was hard, the underside of his shaft running up the small of my back. Casey was longer than Ray, but not nearly as thick. He stripped off my shorts, coaxed my legs to spread over his, grasped my cock, and stroked me off while we kissed.

I was only beginning to learn to control myself in any way and I was turned on to what Casey and Ray did to me when I came to them at the reservoir, so it wasn’t at all long before I was shuddering, jerking, and shooting off as Casey stroked me.

He pushed me forward then, onto my elbows, with my face looking into the lake at almost the same level of the water. I was on my knees, my butt pointed up into the air, and Casey went on his knees behind me, encircling my waist with his arm. His fingers went into the crease of my butt cheeks and he found my hole with them. I whimpered and jerked as he entered me with the fingers and began working me open.