Pete & Skip - Trail Grapplers
By: Ron Nelson
(© 2014 by the author)
The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's
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Pete Pullen sat at the breakfast table in his small apartment in Glens Falls, in Upstate New York. The first light of dawn was just coming in the window, and he figured on leaving in a half hour in his Jeep Wrangler for the his planned four-day hike in the near-by rugged Adirondack Mountains.
He was already packed, with a good supply of energy bars, water, and a poncho in case of rain. However, as he always liked a good breakfast and supper whenever he went on a hike, he was taking along a half dozen hard boiled eggs, a dozen slices of thick bacon, a dozen blueberry tarts, a couple of cans of mac’n’cheese and a can of dried Columbian cappuccino coffee too.
‘Yeah,’ as he thought about it, ‘I know I’m going to be hungry after a day of hiking, and might as well enjoy it too!’ The energy bars were good for lunch, but he hoped to catch some lake trout for supper in the small glacial lake near where the lean-to was situated.
His plan was to get to the trail head near the small village of Keane, at the foot of the High Peaks area, by mid-morning, and then hike up through James Brook Valley to reach the remote lean-to just below Mt. Galsworthy that late afternoon. Then hopefully catch the fish for his supper and have them along with the food he had brought with him.
>From the lean-to, he’d be in a good position to hike to the top of the formidable Mt. Galsworthy the next day. It was a rugged and full day’s climb up and back, but it had a grand and rewarding view from the summit, for his second night at the lean-to. The next day he’d climb Mt. Barlow, opposite Mt. Galsworthy, and return to the lean-to for a third night there. Then on the fourth day he’d return to his Jeep at the trail head, and get back to Glens Falls that evening.
The weather report looked real good, with all four days of warm sunshine and cool evenings forecast, and only a 10% chance of rain. Yeah, it looked like a real nice quiet weekend with a good hike in the outdoors and in the mountains.
However, it didn’t quite turn out like he planned.
As he was waiting for his eggs and waffle to cook up, he scanned the morning paper which had been left at his door. “Two people lost in a mudslide in western China, three mules drowned in a ferry sinking in Bangladesh, and a new unexplained and mysterious disease had killed twenty-seven rabbits in Broken Toe, Australia.” Too bad for them, of course, but just the usual bad news the media always managed to drag up from somewhere from some distant part of the world just to make people feel bad. But pretty much worthless otherwise.
The only interesting, and more local, news items was that a certain Skip Sloan had escaped four days ago from the Franklin County Jail, about forty miles north of the High Peaks area of the Adirondack Mountains where he was headed.
It was a story, the background of which had been reported on for the past year, and had then died down. Pete was sort of following it as he was about the same age and background as Skip Sloan, and sort of identified with him.
Both were about twenty-seven and about the same size at five-nine and one-seventy-five. The articles said Sloan grew up in West Virginia, was a State level high school wrestler, was presently, or at least he was before he was sent to prison, an experienced land surveyor.
In recent years the fugitive had continued with his wrestling after his college career for the pleasure of it, and might be hard to handle if suddenly encountered.
It was now felt that he might try and lose himself in the rugged mountains first, and might be expected to eventually head back to West Virginia to stay and hide in the remote Appalachian mountains.
Pete had grown up in the Mohawk Valley of New York, was also a high school wrestler, although not on the State level, and presently worked for Adirondack Electric Company. He had gotten into grappling too, whenever he got a chance, not only for the close man-to-man fast paced and energetic workout it gave him, but for the particular sensual and erotic pleasure he got from it, locking up with another man on the mat, both men almost naked, with both grapplers wearing no more than the briefest shorts allowed.
In grappling, after locking up with the other man in one hold or another, grapplers rarely remained motionless for long periods of time as they struggled against each other for some new advantage. Many times their faces would be pressed against each other’s, and they would be breathing the same air. At other times they might almost be eating or tasting the other man’s muscled flesh as they were forced against the other man’s body, until finally they would break apart to go on to something else, or would find their faces buried in the other man’s crotch as they were trapped in the other’s head and leg scissors until they could finally break apart and go on to something else.
Pete knew he wasn’t a particularly competitive person, and so rarely got into the ultimate submission stage of grappling. Instead, he just liked the feel of locking up with another man’s muscled body, held tightly against his own, as well as the sensual and erotic feelings he got from that.
The article Pete was reading mentioned that Skip Sloan, at the time the incident which led to his imprisonment began, had been having a couple of casual drinks with some buddies in a bar in Syracuse, New York. One of the other bar patrons, by the name of Bart Marlee, a big man over six feet tall who weighed about two-ten, age about 45, had had too much to drink, felt like taking somebody on, and Skip Sloan was the closest man to him.
Bart took a swing at Skip, but missed. When Skip hit him back, however, Skip didn’t miss. The enraged Bart then grabbed him and tried to throw him to the floor. But Skip’s training as a submission wrestler, however, came into play and it was Bart, who was unsteady as he was also mostly drunk, went down instead.
The fight then moved out to the parking lot as neither wanted to end it just yet, and the two struggled for another few minutes, both getting hit and bloodied up until Bart dropped down to the ground and appeared to pass out. When he didn’t get up, it turned out he was unconscious with a cut on the back of his head from where his head hit a rock on the ground. Medics were called, but he died on the way to the hospital.
Skip was charged with second degree murder as it appeared he had willfully and deliberately struck Bart the fatal blow which caused the cut to his head on the rock and subsequent death.
Skip’s court-appointed defense attorney was young and it was the first murder trial he’d ever had. The experienced local DA, who was prosecuting the case, however, succeeded in persuading the jury that Skip was guilty as charged.
The judge wasn’t so sure, but the jury had spoken, and so the sentence was reduced to a case of involuntary manslaughter with a prison term of eight to fifteen years.
Fortunately, the attorney defending Skip was not satisfied with the outcome of the trial and, after months of appeals for an autopsy on Bart, it was found that he had a serious case of heart disease and had, in effect, actually suffered a heart attack due to his condition and the circumstances of the fight, and that was the cause of his death rather than the blow on his head.
But by then the whole affair had been passed by more recent affairs. However, Skip’s attorney had then filed an appeal to re-open the case, which appeal was in limbo somewhere. Meanwhile, Skip was left in prison to serve out his tern of eight to fifteen years.
As he read the article, Pete wondered what his reaction would have been if he were ever caught in the same circumstances? To give up on the whole thing, try to escape, wait for his appeal to be processed, or what?
Now, this morning, as Pete was heading out for his four-day hike, the paper said that Skip Sloan had just escaped four days ago from his prison captors while he was being transferred to another prison along with seven other prisoners. It was a rainy day, early in the morning, and an altercation had developed between two of the other prisoners. While the guards were busy trying to quell that disturbance, Skip had slipped away. In the rain, the search dogs were unable to pick up his trail, and with Skip’s field training as a surveyor, he was familiar with the dense forests and fields in the area and he had successfully disappeared.
The authorities put out a general search bulletin on him, focusing particularly on the region south of where he broke away and across the southern tier of counties of New York, Pennsylvania and into West Virginia where he could get the protection of his various family members and live in the remote forests and mountains where he could hide from the authorities and make a new life for himself.
Pete got to his planned trail head in Keane shortly before ten o’clock, his intended starting time. The day had warmed up, but not oppressively, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Overhead, before he entered the deep forest and set out on the hiking trail, he watched some chicken hawks flying and gliding high over head searching for their breakfast and lunch. He knew they’d find something and smiled for them.
Pete got to the lean-to just before five after a full day’s hike. The lean-to was sturdy and dry, and the setting was beautiful and peaceful. There were no other hikers at the remote lean-to, and the lake was quiet except for a slight ripple from the soft evening breeze.
After setting down his pack his first chore was to pull out his fishing line, and a couple of things he wanted to take out for his supper, and then put his wallet and Jeep keys in the pack for safe keeping as he wouldn’t be needing them for a while. He then hung his pack on the cut branch end of one of the logs, which made up the back of the lean-to, about two feet over his head in case he needed to get something from it overnight. All the food and other things in his pack, which might attract inquisitive raccoons or bears, were tightly sealed so that they wouldn’t offer up any enticing smells for the wildlife overnight.
After that, he rolled his sleeping bag out and laid it on the soft pine needles which lined the bed of the lean-to. From there, he gathered up some dry wood from around the lean-to to make a fire for his supper and evening’s warmth before he sacked out. Those chores taken care of, he headed down to one of the big rocks along the shore of the lake to see about catching a couple of fish.
For a while, the fish didn’t seem interested. But then one, and then another soon afterwards, developed a fatal, for them, interest in Pete’s lure. They were good sized trout and, with the food he’d brought with him, it made for an ample and tasty supper.
As the evening turned to dusk and then dark, the shadow of Mt. Galsworthy, to the west behind him, darkened and he watched the shadow of the mountain rise slowly up Mt. Barlow to the east until everything in the valley between them, and then he and the lean-to itself were caught in the darkness of the night.
Pete always liked that time of day, as he then watched as the stars came out and the moon, almost full, began to rise in the east That provided some light in the open area around the lean-to, while the rest of the forest around him went totally black.
Pete had no idea what time it was, but he quietly awakened and sensed something or somebody in the lean-to with him, although no one else had appeared before he went to sleep. He didn’t move or show any signs of having awakened, and wondered if perhaps a bear or an inquisitive raccoon or other nocturnal animal had decided to investigate him and his pack. Perhaps whatever it was had been lured by the smell of the fish he’d had for supper even though he’d disposed of the remains a good distance from the lean-to, or if there was some enticing smell in his pack.
He sensed the movement was close to his head, and it seemed to be a fairly large creature by its bulk. However, whatever it was, it moved silently and carefully rather than clumsily as a bear would.
It was a person. But, whoever it was, the person hadn’t wakened him to tell him he was there and was presumably joining him in the lean-to for the night. Instead, the stranger had come in silently and stealthily, and was now probing around close to his head and to his pack overhead.
For some reason, Pete didn’t seem unduly alarmed. If someone had wanted to attack him they would have done so by now. It was odd, and Pete was uncertain what, if any, his next move should be.
Without indicating he was awake, he turned, as if in his sleep, to watch the intruder’s actions. The person was trying to reach Pete’s pack over his head without awakening him but he was having a hard time of it in the darkness.
When Pete realized what the intruder was trying to do, he, who had the advantage of surprise and with his muscular strength as a grappler, suddenly reached out and seized the intruder’s ankle and foot, twisting them in the move and causing him to fall down on top of him. At the same time that he grabbed the intruder’s foot, he also slipped out of his sleeping bag so that he was able to get the intruder in a full and tight body press underneath him, wrapping one hand around the intruder’s neck in a tight headlock and choke hold, and the other through the intruder’s crotch, almost crushing his cock and balls, and thereby immobilizing him at both ends.
For a few moments, the intruder tried to fight back and escape. But then he relaxed and said, “Ok, buddy, you got me! And I guess I sort of like the way you got me too!”
The intruder’s voice was quiet and he sounded intelligent and cooperative, and so Pete slowly released his hold on him and they took their first look at each other in the semi-darkness of the lean-to. By this time, the moon had risen and cast a soft light into the lean-to so that they could see each other a little more clearly.
What Pete saw was a young man, about his own age and size, who was wearing a black and white horizontally stripped shirt and pants and combat boots. All were badly rumpled and dirty. The intruder had a short crew cut and a five-day growth of beard, but a good-looking face with a sort of bashful grin across it.
It didn’t take Pete any time at all to figure this was the missing prisoner, Skip Sloan, recently escaped from the Franklin County jail, and being presently searched for by the authorities in three states.
“Hey man,” said Skip, “I’m sure sorry to come at you like this all of a sudden, and know it wasn’t very nice. But I’m sort of desperate and didn’t know what else to do. I’ve sort of been hanging around this lean-to and campsite for the past couple of days hoping somebody might come by and, frankly, hoping I could get some food from them, and maybe some other clothes too.
“But I didn’t mean any harm, for sure. Not much of a plan, was it?” said Skip with a continued look of both embarrassment and shame, but also sort of a desperate look about him too.
“You’re ok, Skip, for I expect that’s your name from the articles I’ve been reading about you, and I’m not going to be any problem for you.
“I’ve been reading the articles about your fight and wrestling around with that guy Bart Marlee over the past few months, and then your trial. It sure looks like you got the raw end of the deal. I think a lot of people sympathized with your problem, were glad you made your escape, and are probably hoping you get back to West Virginia okay and trying to get the rest of your life back.
“I’m Pete Pullen. I’m with Appalachian Electric Company, live over in Glens Falls, and thought I’d come up here for a four-day hike up Mt. Galsworthy and Mt. Barlow before heading back home again.
“I think maybe I can help you, but not just this minute as it must be about two o’clock in the morning by the looks of the moon going down there in the west.
“What do you say I open up some of my energy bars, as I expect you’re real hungry, to give you something to eat and I’ve got some extra food in my pack. Then what do you say we sack out here in the lean-to together for the rest of the night, and then see what we can do about things in the morning?”
“Sounds real good to me, Pete. Yeah, I’m real hungry, and I haven’t slept much lately either, so both sound real good to me. And I thank you very much too, Pete!”
Within fifteen minutes, both of the muscular young men, the one in his weekend hiking clothes and the other still in his striped prison garb, were fast asleep next to each other in the quiet lean-to.
During the night, first one, and then the other, had his arm around the other, or had their muscular legs intertwined with each other’s. Neither noticed or had any problem with that.
The next morning dawned cool and bright as the light of the rising sun slowly but steadily made it’s way down the deeply forested slopes of Mt. Galsworthy. First Pete, and then very soon afterwards Skip, woke up to the new day and to each other.
In the lean-to, they looked at each other, the first time they saw each other in the day light. Both had grins on their unwashed and stubbled faces. Both liked what they saw.
Pete quickly knew his plans for the weekend were suddenly very much changed.
Pete was the first to say speak, which was to say “I’m
thinking I’d like to take a little nude swim in the lake first, just to sort of
wake up and get cleaned up a little.
“You into such a thing?”
“Sounds good to me? I sure know I’ve been feeling mighty grubby these past few days,” was Skip’s grinning reply.
As they stripped off their clothes, they couldn’t help but notice each other’s toned body, particularly as they had such similar muscular builds.
“You’re sure looking good there Skip,” said Pete, as he looked at Skip’s powerful physique and felt his now undressed and naked cock grow long and hard and begin to jut out from his body.
“You too, man! And I sure liked the way you got and pinned me last night while I was trying to get at your pack.. That was a real good hold you had on me. You into wrestling around with other guys?” said Skip.
“Oh yeah, man, I sure like to get into it, except I’m not very competitive. But any time another guy wants to get wrapped up for some tight wrestling holds, with maybe some real raunchy crotch punishment, pec claws, head locks or head scissors included, I’m always ready for them in particular, give or take.” said Pete.
“My likes too, man. Maybe you and me need to get into it some time if you’d like.”
Pete could see that of the two of them, Skip was just a little bigger and more muscular. But that was no surprise to him as he recalled Skip was a state-level wrestler, and then was into grappling, and most likely kept bulking up even more when he was in prison. The newspaper articles said he might be quite a handful if and when he might be captured.
As they were drying themselves off after they’d had a good swim, Pete got behind Skip and wrapped him in a tight bear hug. Skip didn’t have any problem with that at all. As Pete closed in behind him, Skip felt the hard bulb-shaped end of Pete’s big cock, now jutting out straight and hard in front of him, push in against the deep canyon of his butt. He didn’t have any problem with that either.
In his bear hug on Skip, Pete reached one hand around Skip’s chest to seize one of his pecs in his fist, and reached his other hand around and down to Skip’s crotch where he seized and began to crush Skip’s now long and hard cock in his other fist to give him a hard time.
Skip liked the feel of Pete’s squeezing his muscular pec in one fist and his hard cock in his other fist, and reached back and seized Pete’s own equally big, long and hard cock, which was trying to penetrate his butt, and squeezed that to give Pete an equally hard time in return.
Both got the message the message the other was sending, and liked it. In the next moment they found themselves deadlocked with their crushing cockfighting holds on each other. Neither made any move to break it off as they enjoyed the feel and punishment of their deadlock on each other.
But then Pete, with his bear hug on Skip, eased off first and they broke it off.
After that, it was Pete who said, “Hey man, how ‘bout if we have some breakfast? You ready for something to eat?” For an instant, Skip wasn’t sure whether Pete was referring to having some breakfast, or maybe something else?
“Oh yeah, whatever you’ve got to give me, anything at all, you know I’m ready!” was Skip’s grinning reply.
Both knew that while that might refer to their breakfast for the moment, both knew that might also mean some real rough-housing between the two a little later on at some point.
Skip was ravenous after a few days of little to no eating except for some berries he’d found along the way. As Pete pulled the hard boiled eggs and other breakfast food out of his pack and then fried the bacon in the frying pay he’d brought along, Skip collected some more wood for the fire until he got it going in a beautiful smokeless state. Quietly, they both ate their breakfast as both were exceptionally hungry, particularly Skip.
As they came to the end of their breakfast, Pete asked Skip if he had any particular plans in mind for whatever he wanted to do next. He didn’t want to push Skip more than he felt comfortable with, not knowing Skip’s state of mind after his prison escape. At the same time, he’d been doing some thinking himself about what they might or should do next.
“Nope,” said Skip, with an expression of doubt and concern in his voice. “I think I’d like to get back to my family in West Virginia eventually, but that’s a long way off and I don’t have any good way to get there. So I figure maybe if I can find some farmhouse at the edge of the mountains maybe first I could at least get some civilian clothes and get out of this striped prison outfit. Then maybe I could try and make my way south down through southern New York, Pennsylvania, and then eventually get down to West Virginia.”
“Yeah,” replied Pete, “that’s a tall order, for sure. I know that you know your way around the woods and forests and farmlands pretty good, but it’s still a long way to get back home to West Virginia.
“So tell you what, as I sort of like the adventure too,” said Pete with a broad grin on his face as apparently he’d now been thinking some more about Skip’s plight, “what about this?
“It’s pretty simple,” he said, the grin not leaving his face.
“First, how about if we break camp here in the next half hour and get cleaned up and leave no trace of your or our being here.
“Then you roll up your prison pants above your knees and put on my poncho so that your stripped prison pants won’t show, and we head back to my Jeep. If we meet anybody on the trail, they’ll just assume you’re wearing your poncho like a lot of hikers do anyway. I’ve got a wide-brimmed rain hat in my pack so that’ll cover your face in case anybody might try to recognize you from any of the “Wanted” posters around.
“Then we go to my place down in Glens Falls, and we get rid of your prison gear and we get you into some civilian gear. We’re about the same size, so you can wear some of my stuff and so that should work out pretty good.”
“Oh man, Pete, you really got this figured out, for which I really thank you and as I don’t think I‘m thinking too clearly just at present!”
“No problema, Skip! And then tomorrow we drive down to wherever is best for you in West Virginia, just like any two guys out for a ride. The Jeep’s real clean, and we’ll be too, so nobody will be looking for us on the way down.
“Where do you figure would be the best place to take you in West Virginia?” asked Pete.
After a moment‘s thought, “Well,” was Skip’s reply, “maybe we ought to go to my Aunt Helen’s place, just outside Charleston? My family is mostly down around Mullens, in southern West Virginia. But maybe the law will be keeping an eye out for me there, figuring that’s where I’d be headed.
“However, my Aunt Helen is a school teacher up near Charleston, and not that many people connect her with my father, mother and brothers down in Mullens. If I stay with my Aunt Helen, and she’s a real fine lady and I know she’ll take me in, she could get in touch with my folks and then we could figure where we’d go from there.
“Once I get down to Charleston and then and back to Mullens, I can easily hunker down until things ease up. And maybe, if my appeal eventually goes through and gets approved, maybe I can get out from under all this in the first place,” said Skip.
“Sounds real good to me, man,” was Pete’s grinning reply as he looked at the muscular hunk in front of him!
‘And maybe we can get into some real good wrestlin’ around before we part, too,’ went through the minds of both of them.
“Good deal, man,” said Pete. “Now how about we finish up with breakfast here, clean up the campsite so nobody will know we’ve been here, and then hit the trail back to the trailhead where my Jeep is!”
The hike back was uneventful. They met only two hikers along the way, with whom they exchanged the usual hikers’ greetings, and Skip easily passed for just another hiker with his floppy rain hat, poncho and black combat boots.
After they left the trail head in the Jeep, had lunch at a country restaurant along the way back, which went just as easy, by late afternoon they were back at Pete’s place in Glens Falls.
“Good deal,” said Pete as they entered his small apartment, “looks like we got through real good so far!”
“Yeah, thanks to you Pete! I’m much obliged, for sure!” was Skip’s grateful reply.
“No problema,” said Pete, “Now how ‘bout maybe we get cleaned up so we can look more normal again. Let’s get rid of your prison clothes and get you into something else from my closet, and then we can take it from there.”
Pete showed Skip around his small apartment, and Skip noticed the wrestling mats and some free weights which Pete had in a small enclosed back porch to the apartment.
“Nice place you got here m’man,” said Skip, “and this looks real good too,” as he checked out the mats and weights.
“You get into wrestling around in here? It looks real small and close, and would be great for working out with another guy!”
“Oh yeah,” was Pete’s easy reply. “There isn’t enough room here for a regular size wrestling mat anyway, but as I like to get into it wrestling, which goes a lot slower and the guys get locked up into it real tight with each other for a lot of long deadlocks, there isn’t too much movement or need for too much space. I’ve got a couple of buddies who like to get into it, and so it works out real good.
“And of course the end result, if it’s what you like, is always real nice too, maybe giving or getting a full load of hot cum juice, one way or another, or both.”
“Yeah, just the way I like it too,” replied Skip. “Had a couple of buddies in prison and we messed around in the laundry room after our day’s chores were done. Mmmmm yeah, that was good!”
“Maybe we can get into it here tonight?” was Skip’s tentative but grinning suggestion.
“Yeah, I know I‘d sure like that!” was Pete’s wide smiled reply.
‘Yeah,’ both thought, ‘this could turn out to be real good indeed!’
For the next couple of hours they got washed up, and Pete assembled some casual clothes for Skip to wear for the next few days. Their sizes were just about the same, except that Skip filled out the clothes just a little more with his slight additional muscularity.
After they’d completed those preparations and everything else necessary for the present, Skip asked Pete if he minded if he sacked out for a while as he was still tired from his lack of sleep and the long trek from where he escaped away from his prison detail to where they’d met at the lean-to.
That was fine with Pete, who then went out to wash and get gas for the Jeep so it would look presentable and ready to head out tomorrow. After that, he came back inside and put together some steaks, spuds, salad and some beers for a full supper for both of them, and for Skip in particular, from his fairly skimpy meals recently, and to fortify themselves for the long drive tomorrow down to West Virginia.
The supper was a complete success as the two young muscled men quietly ate their dinners and enjoyed each other’s company. After supper, they watched a video of a grappling tournament and show held a while back in Memphis, Tennessee.
In the video, some of the grapplers wore full singlets and shirts, while other’s wore only tight briefs which showed the tanned muscularity of their bodies. In some of their matches, the grapplers got really tied up with each other, and their crotches bulged and showed the long ridges of their fully aroused cocks as they found ways and opportunities to grab and crush those long ridges and bulges.
At other times the grapplers had their faces pressed tightly against each other’s face, or faced hard into each other’s crotch, or their powerful hands clawed at each other’s pecs, or their heads were almost crushed in tight head scissor holds between the powerful thighs of the other as they silently and almost motionlessly fought and grappled with each other.
“Oh yeah,” said Pete as they watched the action, “ ‘way to go!”
“You know it, man,” was Skip’s reply as he reached over on the leather couch where they were both sitting while watching the video, to grab the back of Pete’s neck to pull him over and closer to him. As they came together, they ripped off the other’s sleeveless muscle t-shirt and shorts which both were wearing, which left them then wearing only their tight bikini shorts.
Inside their bikinis, their already hard and throbbing cock and balls bulged and struggled to get free, ready for action.
In the next instant, they found themselves on the rug floor locked up motionlessly in a double bear hug on each other. Their faces were pressed hard against each other’s to increase the power of their holds, and their tongues quickly found themselves deep inside each other’s mouth to begin their struggle.
It was what they had wanted to do with each other ever since they first laid eyes on the other early that morning in the mountain lean-to.
In the next instant, they had shifted and dragged each other into Pete’s small porch room where they’d continue their grappling struggle from there.
For the next hour, they struggled back and forth with each other, giving and taking what each most liked and desired from the other. Generally, they found themselves tightly locked together, almost motionlessly, in a leg or head scissors on the other. Or maybe a headlock or claw hold on the other’s pecs, or maybe sitting on the other’s face to suffocate him in a hold.
Or seizing the other’s long and hard cock, now even more totally aroused with all their accompanying cockfighting and jutting straight out and exposed from their bodies, and their own and the other’s big and swollen balls, looking and feeling like two hard globes, to see which could give, or take, the most punishment. Neither could get enough of the action they were giving and taking to and from each other.
Sometimes they moved fairly quickly to get, or escape, or improve some predicament they were in. But mostly the two muscular young men were almost motionless, as the two grapplers remained locked together, almost motionless, as they struggled against each other.
Both Pete and Skip knew they weren’t in it to compete with each other. Instead, both knew it was the struggle itself, the giving and taking of all the punishment it involved, and the total sensual and erotic pleasure they got from it. That was their whole and real interest.
For another half hour they grappled back and forth in the small porch room on the padded mat, lost in their own minds and pleasures and what they were doing to the other, and the other to him. Neither could get enough of it.
As they grappled and cock-fought each other, their two muscled bodies were now also wet with sweat and some oil they’d poured on themselves earlier. Eventually they found themselves getting so aroused with the erotic pleasure of grappling with each other, that both knew they would soon be forced to shoot all of the full loads of hot and creamy white cum juice which had been accumulating all the time in their hot, wet and naked bodies.
More and more, in their figure-four head scissors holds on each other, sometimes single and but then more and more double, they had also managed to stab their big, long and hard cocks deep down into the other’s mouth and throat. Neither ever had any trouble with that, give or take.
During their long match, Pete, the slightly smaller and less competitive of the two, knew he liked to be dominated by the slightly bigger and stronger escaped-prisoner Skip, and he also knew Skip’s competitive instincts, which had led to his state-level wrestling wins, liked to have him more or less on top.
Very soon, after their long struggle with each other, both knew they were about to come and shoot their loads, ready or not. In their final deadlock, they found themselves once again locked in a double figure-four head scissors on each other, their long and hard cocks plunged deep down inside the other’s mouth and throat while they held each other’s head tightly between their muscled thighs so that neither could escape.
Pete was on top with Skip underneath him. But then, knowing Pete liked more to be dominated than dominate, and Skip the other way around, they found themselves rolling over one final time until their positions were reversed, with now Pete underneath and the powerfully muscular Skip on top of him, pressing him down on the mat and with his big hard rod stabbed deep down into Pete’s mouth and throat, impaling his head on the mat. At the same time, Skip still held Pete’s own big cock tightly in his own mouth and was manipulating it with his mouth and tongue to force it to shoot its full load right into his mouth.
Suddenly, both felt their bodies stiffen in a tight spasm. And then, in the next instant, both felt their huge loads of creamy sweet hot cum juice explode out of their masculine bodies into the other’s mouth and down his throat, while at the same time they tasted the sweetness of the other’s big load of cum juice explode into his own mouth.
For a couple of long minutes, the full cum loads of both grapplers pulsed and flowed out of their big cock ends into the other’s mouth until finally both grapplers found themselves completely drained and exhausted.
For another couple of minutes, both lay motionless on the mat. Then, gradually recovering, it was Pete who first said, “Mmmmm yeah, that sure was good!”
“Oh yeah, man, you’re really great! That was awesome!” was Skip’s grinning reply.
Early the next morning they loaded the Jeep and then had a good breakfast before setting out on the long drive down to West Virginia. They planned to head down on the Interstates for the most part, keeping pretty much to the speed limits so as not to attract any unnecessary attention.
Skip didn’t have any identification at all, so Pete had fixed him up with a spare wallet with a fictitious name, and they agreed on a story. That would be in case they were stopped somewhere along the way, and Skip could say that he had lost his regular wallet, and this was only a substitute until he could reestablish his proper identification when he got back home.
As it turned out, that identity precaution wasn’t necessary, and they arrived at Skip’s Aunt Helen’s place, just outside Charleston, West Virginia, shortly after six o’clock in the evening.
Aunt Helen’s home was once a small farm, located about six miles out of town. The house sat back about a hundred feet from the rural country road It was a neat small white frame farmhouse, with a broad front porch with three comfortable looking rocking chairs on it.
Behind the house was a fairly big old unpainted frame barn which at one time may have held two or three cows. The barn had a wide barn door, which opened on rollers, in the front of the barn, which might also have originally housed a tractor and a wagon and whatever other farm implements the original farm might have had. As Pete and Skip turned into the driveway, they noticed the barn door was open and Aunt Helen’s Dodge Dart was parked inside on one side of the big opening behind the sliding door.
They also noticed that, extending out from the rear of the house toward the barn, was a small extension which looked like it might have been used to house a couple of non-family farm workers who might have worked on the farm.
As soon as Pete and Skip came into the driveway, Aunt Helen, who saw Pete’s unrecognized Jeep come in, came out of the farmhouse to see who her visitors might be.
At first, she didn’t recognize Skip. But then, seeing him, she threw up her hands in delight and ran over, and he to her, for a warm and long-held embrace and hug.
“Oh Skip, oh Skip,” she said, “how good it is to see you! And I can see you’re more handsome than ever!”
Then she turned to Pete, who had gotten out of the Jeep on the other side and waited for Skip and Aunt Helen to turn some of their attention to him, and said, “And who is this handsome young man you’ve brought with you, Skip?”
Without waiting for Skip’s reply, she turned to Pete and gave him a big hug of welcome too!
With that, Pete knew they were both, and more importantly Skip, now safe and loved, and nobody could ask for more than that, and they headed into the house.
“Do come inside, boys. But first, maybe you’d want to put your Jeep in the barn,” said Aunt Helen. “No need to get it all dusty out here in the yard.”
As they went inside and chatted, Aunt Helen never asked or mentioned anything about Skip’s recent activities or doings, and Pete wondered if this tremendously nice lady was even aware of Skip’s recent past, the trouble he’d been in, his time in prison, and then his escape. If so, she certainly gave no sign of it, and if not, then who were they to break all of that unfortunate news to her?
It turned out that Aunt Helen, actually a very smart and perceptive lady, knew every detail of Skip’s doings and his doings over the past year, as well as earlier years, including even right up to his recent prison break. But she felt it would be up to Skip to tell her about it in his own good time and in his own good way, and she would wait for that to happen.
And her quick thinking, right from the start, that Pete put his Jeep in the barn and out of sight suggested that her mind was working just as fast as theirs.
That gave both Skip and Pete their first clue that this lady knew exactly what was going on, and with their sudden appearance at her home. She knew the Jeep, with its New York license place, and being unfamiliar in the area, and with Skip’s recent prison break in New York, and the authorities possibly knowing about the connection between her and Skip, she knew it was important to get the Jeep out of sight as quickly as possible.
There were few cars or trucks passing by on the rural road, and the Jeep was safely moved into the barn, and Skip and Pete into the house, before any passers-by might notice it.
Once inside, Aunt Helen, after a little general welcoming conversation and asking about their drive down from New York, said “Well, you boys must be mighty hungry, so how about a good supper, and then we’ll see where we go from there.”
The supper was a complete success, and Aunt Helen told them they could stay in the unused field workers’ rooms in the extension for as long as they liked.
After they’d gotten settled in, Skip and Pete came back out to Aunt Helen’s comfortable living room and they talked in more detail about Skip’s doings, his meeting up with Pete, and Pete’s having driven him down to West Virginia.
Aunt Helen said she hoped both could stay a while, as it was clear that Skip would need to stay over, but Pete said that unfortunately he’d have to return to New York the next day, the last day of his four-day weekend, to get back to work the following day.
Aunt Helen said she understood although it was much to her regret not to have his company for a longer period of time. And the next morning, when he left right after an early breakfast with Skip and Aunt Helen, he found the passenger seat of his Jeep filled with all sorts of cookies and jams and jellies which she had packed up for him, as well as enough food for lunch and supper for the next three days. She sure was a nice lady, he knew, and for so many things!
When she kissed and hugged him good-by the next morning, his eyes watered as he thanked her for her hospitality and generosity. And the eyes of both Skip and Pete were moist as they too hugged at their own parting. Maybe they would meet again, maybe not. But both knew they would never forget each other.
After Pete left, Aunt Helen suggested they sit down in the kitchen and figure out what they should do next.
Skip said his plans were, of course, uncertain, but he’d like to get back to his folks in Mullen as soon as it was safe to do so.
Aunt Helen agreed, and that afternoon she sent off a brief note to her brother, Skip’s father, which said, “Your dresser has come back from the furniture refinishers, and looks really marvelous! I can keep it here indefinitely, of course, but, as it’s too big to ship by UPS or FedEx, and too small for movers, would you like to come up here some time to pick it up and take it back with you? It’s got a really wonderful finish, so maybe you’d want to bring along some soft blankets or something to wrap it in so it won’t get scratched!”
Aunt Helen was smart. It was a letter to her brother, which would be private, and not a phone call or an email. Nor did it mention any names, but that “the dresser” was in excellent condition and could remain with her, or be moved, at his convenience. Or, it was understood, at such a time as any surveillance by the authorities might leave an opening for Skip to return safely.
Skip’s father easily understood the message, and a few days later wrote that he and Skip’s brother would be up the following weekend to bring “the dresser” back home.
When Skip saw the correspondence between his Aunt Helen and his father for his safety and safe return home, he almost broke down in tears.
“Oh, Aunt Helen, you’re so good to me, how can I ever repay you?”
“No problem on that, m’boy, to be sure,” was her cheerful reply. “In fact, it’s I who will be paying you before you have to leave me!”
Aunt Helen told him that for the past few months she’d been thinking of having the entire inside of her house repainted, some new cabinets installed in the kitchen, and a few other inside repairs made as well.
Skip was a very talented craftsman and handyman, she knew, and it didn’t take her long to figure how she could make use of Skip’s talents while he had to remain for the most part indoors, at least during the daylight hours.
Skip could do all the work she had in mind, and she could, in fact, pay him for his services instead of having an outside handyman come in and do it. So Skip could feel he was being useful too as well as tie him over until he could get back to earning some regular money.
It would be a very good deal for both of them, both realized, and Skip was as pleased to be able to help his Aunt Helen with her house needs as she was to have him as her guest and take care of her house improvements as well.
The two weeks which followed went by quickly. Skip could easily figure out what paint and other supplies he needed, and Aunt Helen ordered them from Home Depot. They were always delivered as ordered, and in almost no time at all Aunt Helen and Skip were tremendously pleased with the whole total new brightness of the newly painted interior of the house, the new cabinets, and some of the other repairs Skip had done so well to make the whole place look almost new once again.
After the work was done, and after a little more correspondence between Aunt Helen and Skip’s father, the day had come for Skip’s departure.
Skip’s father and brother arrived in his dad’s big burgundy Ram 2500 pickup truck. They arrived in the early afternoon, which meant they wouldn’t get back to Mullen until after dark. Aunt Helen had a late lunch for them before their return, and then they stayed only a few minutes longer while they all warmly embraced each other.
But they knew they had to keep moving too to get Skip back home on this final leg of his journey, and to safety too.
No cars passed by to see Skip, his dad and his brother get into the big pickup truck. Skip was placed in the rear of the big four-door vehicle where he would remain out of sight for the drive back to Mullen.
The New York prison authorities had indeed requested the West Virginia police to be on the lookout for Skip, but the West Virginia police didn’t seem to pay too much attention to whatever the New York authorities wanted, and so whatever surveillance they were doing in Mullen was both brief and light.
In any event, there was none when Skip’s dad, brother and he drove in to their secluded farm house, which backed up against the rough and deeply wooded forests of the Appalachian mountains behind their home.
Skip was finally home, safe and sound.
About a month later, when Skip was out in the forest behind the house, cutting some timber with his brother, he saw a West Virginia State Police SUV drive up into his father’s driveway. It was followed by an unmarked black state Crown Victoria.
Skip wondered if the chase and his escape would now need to be resumed. He put down his power saw and moved behind some bushes where he could see what was going on without himself being seen.
The State Police man got out of his vehicle and a middle-aged man in a business suit got out of the other car.
Skip could see his father come out of the house to greet them, but couldn’t see or hear what they were saying or doing. But then he could see the wide grins which covered all of their faces.
In the next instant, Skip saw his father, who knew where he was hiding in the bushes, motioned for him to come over to where they were standing. Skip wasn’t certain about the situation, but trusted his father to protect him.
After introductions all around, Skip’s father said, “Mr. Coventry here, Skip, is with the Mullens County Court, and I think he has something for you.”
“You are Skip Sloan, aren’t you?” asked Mr. Coventry, with a grin on his face.
“Yes sir, that’s me!” was Skip’s hesitant reply as to how much he should say.
“Well,” said Mr. Coventry, “to be brief, we’ve just been
notified that as a result of your recent prison break up in New York State,
three years have been added to your sentence!
Skip groaned with despair, and wondered how come, with such bad news, and now that they’ve found him to tell him that, what were they all grinning about?”
“However,” continued Mr. Coventry, “your defending attorney convinced the judge, who doubted the circumstances of the jury’s decision from the start, and who then ordered the autopsy on Mr. Bart Marlee which found, indeed, that he died of heart failure and not the blow to his head.
“As a result, three days ago the judge dismissed the case and all charges against you, and you are a completely free man again, In addition, the record of the whole incident has been expunged for the court documents, so it is as if it never took place.
Skip almost broke down in tears as he hugged his father and his brother, and then his mother too as she came out from the house to see what was going on. Even Mr. Coventry and the State Police officer were moved as Skip thanked them as well before they drove off to return to their regular duties.
Then, that evening, after calling his Aunt Helen to tell her the good news, Skip told his family of the whole adventure from start to finish, about Pete’s originally helping him when they first met in the lean-to and when he was in such bad shape after his prison break and fleeing the scene, of Pete’s rescuing him, fixing him up, then bringing him down to Aunt Helen’s, and then Aunt Helen’s taking him in until he was brought back to Mullens again.
After Skip was finished, his dad was quiet for a moment, and then said, “You know, Skip, I don’t have any plans to use the Ram 2500 for the next week or so, why don’t you take it and drive up to the Adirondacks and see Pete and tell him the good news in person? I’m sure you’d both very much like to see each other again!”
That’s just what happened. Plus we can guess what else happened when Skip and Pete got together once again back in Pete’s apartment that night.