The Sunday Club

By: Nicholas Hall
(© 2022 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

nhall@tickiestories.us

Chapter 15 

“We all graduated in 1958. The Sunday Club had one hell of a graduation party for us and our families. Plenty of food, entertainment, and presents. We all had our plans for after graduation and a summer of work and play. Our future seemed well-planned and exciting! As they say, the best laid plans of man and mice-----. The news, on the international scene, especially in Indonesia (Southeast Asia), was not encouraging. What was happening there, according to the newspapers and television, would alter our lives and the landscape for the future. We would fall back on the advice and counsel of our elders, the Sunday Club members.”

 *******

High school was over, years filled with activities, studies, and enjoyment; Skip’s various recitals, concerts, and choir activities were well attended by all of us. Additionally, we had Johnny’s programs such as Christmas and other elementary programs to attend as well. The high school years were busy years. Our personal relationships became more and more intense and secure. There seemed to be no doubt, in our minds, we would have partners for life.

Hardy and I’d been boyfriends- like forever! While Skip and Skeeter, each having fallen head over asshole for each other, were attached to us as well! When we would go to “Tallywackers”, one of Skip’s favorite places since it seemed to remind him of his old home (“colder, but no gators- same number of fuckin mosquitoes, though”), they’d crawl into bed with us! We didn’t mind; we all slept naked and close, especially when the weather cooled down. Our sexual activities didn’t exclude the other couple at all. In fact, we enjoyed each other’s company as well, if you know what I mean!

And why not?

Hardy and I were Skeeter’s first real friends; we became his protectors, his confidants, his fuck buddies, satisfying his needs and ours as well. We accepted him as he was, no more, no less. We bonded and stayed that way. Skeeter would crawl into bed with us, wanting our comfort and our love. We freely gave it because he gave so much to us through his friendship and loyalty. We worked together, we played together, shared our good times and bad, and, yes, we fucked together! Skeeter loved a cock up his ass and we obliged!

When Skip and he hooked up, it was only natural Skip joined with us as Skeeter did over the years. The four of us grew tight, as tight as a ten-year old boy’s asshole; good friends and always would be. Skip made love to Skeeter usually with Skeeter on his stomach or on his knees in the “doggy position,” or on his side. Skeeter claimed because of the curve in Skip’s cock, he seemed to hit a spot inside Skeeter that really thrilled him. Skip didn’t care as long as he could be with and make love to Skeeter.

Skip was a head taller than Skeeter so, with his belly to Skeeter’s back, his chin could rest on Skeeter’s head, if he so chose. Most times, his arms were linked underneath Skeeter’s armpits, clasping him tight as he rocked his butt back and forth, driving his cock deeper and deeper, his face would be positioned so he could kiss, nuzzle, or otherwise adore Skeeter with his lips, tongue, or mouth. They were fun to watch and tended to “inspire” us, so to speak.

Every once in a while, mounted on Skeeter, Skip would look over his shoulder, pat his butt, inviting one of us, usually me, to fuck him while he was fucking Skeeter. Skeeter and he claimed it increased their own pleasures, bringing them to really strong orgasms when they climaxed.  According to what Skeeter said and what we could observe in terms of leakage around Skip’s fat, embedded dick, it increased the volume of cum Skip produced and pulsed up into Skeeter as well.

Skeeter, once hooked up with Hardy and me, exhibited a couple of other passions as well; he loved to suck, be sucked, and be jacked-off. Many times, when he’d spend the night with us, he’d wiggle around, presenting his small, hairless cock and balls to one of us while with his head on our crotch, would envelope our own small todger in his warm, soft, lips and moist mouth, sucking, jacking, until we’d have an orgasm. As we grew older and matured, he’d swallow, as did we. His small cock was a delight to suckle and his orgasms intense! He loved it and we had no complaints either!

******* 

It was a good summer! The tips were great and we all made some bucks. There was more and more talk concerning a “small” war going on in Southeast Asia, although, I must admit, we paid little attention to it. It seemed so far distant and unaffecting in our lives. However, as required, we all registered for the draft.

Come fall, we headed off to college or community college. Hardy and I, knowing we wanted to work in the restaurant business, specifically “Uncle Lou’s,” and Skeeter and Skip knowing the same, accepted Uncle Lou’s offer to pay our tuition and fees if we agreed to work for him after we finished school. That was a no brainer as far as we were concerned.

“I’m not getting any younger,” he confessed, “and neither is Pudge. Come age sixty-five or so, Pudge wants to retire and I’m thinking the same.”

Hard and I took business classes, including some accounting and bookkeeping as well as advertising and merchandizing classes at the community college, Skeeter enrolled in a Culinary Arts program in a tech school, while Skip decided to pursue an accounting degree and music minor at our local college, Hartman College.

Mooch changed his mind before the fall term started. Originally, he intended on enrolling in the Auto Mechanics program, along with Buzz, at the Community College. They decided adding Small Engine repairs would help the “Bike Shop” business when it grew slow, if it did. Buzz would continue to work at Vinnie’s auto shop, at least until Vinnie decided to retire, and they could make other decisions, depending on how things were going. They were keeping their options open.

After high school graduation, they moved in with Mr. Williams. He was growing more and more frail physically, although his mind was still sharp. He needed more personal, bodily care and help in getting around. Buzz love his surrogate grandfather and would do anything for him. Mooch loved Buzz and would do anything for HIM, so he cared for Mr. Williams as well.

Mooch, in the process of caring for the beloved, older man, recognized the need for medical training and decided to become a nurse. What he wanted would eventually require a four-year degree and he’d eventually receive one. However, he started out with a two-year degree and received his RN. Male nurses weren’t common in our area, but with Uncle Lou’s “persuasion” Mooch was admitted to nursing school and entered in the fall. He was able to live “at home” and go to school, still being able to care for Mr. Williams as well.

Sketch and Sling’s post-high school graduation plans were similar to the rest of ours. They intended on attending the Community College, although they really had no particular program of study they desired to undertake. Well, that was not exactly correct; they both knew they loved the river and the life style it offered. The hunting, the commercial fishing, and trapping in the fall and the winter appealed to them and provided them with an income. Most of all they loved the solitude and remoteness offered when staying with Neil and Ernie at their cabin (home).

They spent summers there and weekends during the school year while in high school and intended on doing the same while attending classes at the Community College.  Sling, at Uncle Lou’s urging, enrolled in as many Biology and Environmental type classes as he could.

“Better to understand the environment and the creatures in it you wish to harvest and profit from them,” Uncle Lou advised. He also urged both to take courses in small business development and management since “keeping good books means keeping a good business going.”

Sketch, because of his natural artistic abilities and talents, again at Uncle Lou’s urging, enrolled in various art and photography classes to improve his skills as well.

“You just might make some money with your talent someday,” Uncle Lou counseled.

Oh, he made some money at it, but not all of his photos, sketches, or paintings would be suitable for the front cover of “The Saturday Evening Post.” No, far from it, especially with those hairless, little peckers, and balls displayed either limp or stiff on young boys or a bit hairy and larger on teen boys. A fat cock stuffed up the butt of a youngster or early teen or lips wrapped around a fat one just wouldn’t pass muster at the Ladies Aid Society either.

All the more “daring” as Sketch put it, were for his “private” customers or “special” clients, which included certain magazines. Be that as it may, it should be noted most of his art work and photographs he sold or displayed didn’t include sex scenes or nudism. The nudism which was displayed (and shown in private galleries), were tastefully done and quite attractive.

Sketch also produced wildlife photos and art, landscapes, still life, and other works which sold well. His first book of photographs, “The Big River Men” chronicled the life and activities of those men who earned their living on the Big River trapping and commercial fishing. Most of the photos were in black and white and quite striking! The two men featured the most were Ernie and Neil. I thought the book was fabulous and so did many others since it sold well.

I grew increasingly concerned about the war going on in Indochina. The French were either driven out or just abandoned their claim to the territory in the midst of fierce fighting. Their departure was followed by civil unrest and fighting. My concern was, given what I heard from the members of the Sunday Club and from the news media, was this could escalate and we, my friends and I, would find ourselves drafted and in the army, fighting a war in another country.

October, while on a duck hunt at Tallywackers, we, all except Johnny, decided to seek the advice and counsel of our elders, the Sunday Club! Uncle Lou set up a breakfast meeting for the Sunday Club and us, the Heirs.

Uncle Lou and Vinnie explained some options we had. Vinnie was well-acquainted with members of our local county draft board since several brought their vehicles into his shop for servicing and repairs. A couple of others he knew growing up.

“Right now,” he ventured, “the army and other branches are filling their quotas with enlistments. You live in a large county with lots of possible prospects for enlistment or, if they need to draft men, a large pool of eligible young men The larger the pool of eligible men, the less chance you stand of being drafted. It’s like hunting ducks; if only a half dozen land in your decoys, and you’re the duck, the chances of getting shot is very high. If, however, there’s several hundred, then it’s what the hell, the chances are slim, not unlikely, but slim.”

“So,” Uncle Lou interjected, “you have several choices; enlist, seek a deferment, or wait your turn and take your chances.”

“If you seek a deferment,” Walt offered, “you remain eligible until the deferment runs out. That means you could be drafted in two, three, or six or more years. Without a deferment, taking your chances, chances are after a couple of years, there’ll be others to take your place.”

“So,” Uncle Lou said, laying out our choices, “there are your choices. Only you can make a choice, all we can do is support what you choose to do.”

The Heirs, thought it over and decided we’d each have to make our own choices. In the end, none of us enlisted or sought a deferment and none of us got drafted!

Pure, dumb, fucking luck! In 1965, 200,000 combat forces entered Viet Nam and the shit hit the fan!

To be continued...

Posted: 06/24/2022