So it was just me and Arnie and Dick B. Long, the Star, in the lounge of the X Bar L ranch resort, which was dark, and we each had separate chairs in front of the big-screen TV because watching a videotape wasn't like being in a hot tub. It was more private-like and for a good reason as I found out. At the start of the videotape, when Dick B. Long was standing in a locker room and chewing out five young men who I guessed belonged to a basketball team, I thought "Boys-a-Simmer" was going to be a come- from-behind sports movie like "Hoosiers" maybe with Dick B. Long being Gene Hackman, who I really admire for all the different parts he plays in movies. But "Boys-a-Simmer" wasn't like "Hoosiers" in which I don't recall seeing any players in jockstraps or one hundred percent naked the way they was in this locker room. Plus Gene Hackman never grabbed any of his players by their dicks which is what Dick B. Long did to one of the players he was chewing out and dragged him out of the locker room and into his office, Dick B. Long's office, that is, not Gene Hackman's.

What happened in that office was that Dick B. Long said what he already said once in the locker room which was that he was going to build discipline in this sorry team or know the reason why and he was going to start by building respect for him, the coach. He told the player he had dragged there to get on his knees and to stay there while Dick B. Long took off his clothes except for his jockstrap which he made the player kiss and lick and generally mess around with in his mouth. You could see that the young player at first didn't want no part of this kind of discipline but he learned respect pretty quick when Dick B. Long made him pull the jockstrap off with his teeth. What Dick B. Long had in that jockstrap would have earned him respect from Michael Jordan or Magic Johnson, I bet. It would have earned him respect from Andy Jackson, my granddad's prize bull, that he named for the first President from Tennessee, which is where he, my granddad, that is, grew up.

In other words, there was nothing run-of-the-mill about Dick B. Long. Up on the big-screen TV, at any rate, his cock looked like an ax handle, and when that jockstrap came down and that cock came up, I gave a whistle of surprise and admiration and respect. "Just about the biggest one in the business," Arnie said. "Damn hard to get it all in one frame of a close-up, I can tell you." I looked at Dick B. Long and at least his head wasn't hanging down no more, but I could see he was trying to be modest, the way a Star ought to be, I guess. He didn't say nothing but just kept his eyes on the big-screen TV. Which is where he had one young player after another learn to respect him by sucking on that ax handle or getting fucked by it or often as not both. And the interesting thing was how well this treatment worked in shaping up that team, because after the young players had learned respect for Dick B. Long, they took a real interest in one another that was a pleasure to see.

Even if they had been nothing but "sorry-assed losers" was the way Dick B. Long called them in the locker room and his office, those boys turned into a team that was real close-knit, and it was all Dick B. Long's doing. It was a genuinely inspiring story. I thought the big moment would come on a basketball court with the game in its final seconds and maybe one of the white players would dribble real fast and sneaky down court and look like he was going up for a throw but instead pass the ball off to the one black dude on the team for a three-pointer that would win the game as the buzzer sounded. But the videotape didn't show that kind of action. The big moment actually came by a swimming pool when Dick B. Long took on four of the five players at once with two of them taking turns trying to swallow his ax handle and another, the black dude who was a credit to his race even if he couldn't match Dick B. Long or even Andy Jackson, putting it to Dick B. Long from behind. And while that was going on, Dick B. Long was treating another player, a white one, to a serious blow job and the black dude was giving the same treatment to the fifth player. Just to show you how teamwork had improved, all six fellows popped at the same time with somebody you couldn't see, just hear, playing a big drum faster and faster and louder and louder as the team and the coach built up steam and finally opened the valves.

I was really impressed, and I said so. "That was something I never expected to see in all my life" is what I told Dick B. Long, though I didn't tell him that the day had been full of a lot of somethings I had never expected, like the elk and the hot tub and the kissing and tongue patrolling and fingering with Jack. I told him too that I thought he should be very proud of what he did to those "sorry-assed losers" to build discipline and respect and teamwork. "It's like a lesson for everybody who wants to get on with other people and help them be winners" is what I did say, and then I told him I thought his cock had Andy Jackson beat by a country mile, though I didn't tell him Andy was a bull, just let him think that Andy was an acquaintance of mine with a cock that up till then I had considered the biggest one I knew about.

Dick B. Long seemed to be pleased by what I said, but before we could get to talking some more about the team, Arnie butted in. "I hate pool shoots" is what he said, so I asked him why, and he told me that the light dancing on the water "fucks up all your values." He said I probably hadn't noticed, but when the black dude pulls out of Dick B. Long and opens up his valves, the "money shot" is what he called it was almost lost because the contrast with the skin of Dick B. Long's back and the stuff the black dude lets go on it is so washed out it's hard to see how really big a load the black dude dumped. I said I had been real impressed and now that I knew how hard it was to take pictures like that next to a swimming pool I was even more impressed and Arnie should be proud, too, of what he'd done.

Arnie said he hoped I was being truthful and when he turned on the light so that Dick B. Long could see to rewind his tape, he, Arnie, that is, looked at me and said he guessed I was, being truthful, that is, because it was plain to see that his photography had had an inspiring effect on me. I tried to laugh but I knew what he meant. In the tight sweat outfit which Jack had loaned me my own pecker had gotten adequate to the occasion and there was no way to hide it, my pecker, that is. "Looks like you've got a new fan, Dickiebird," is what Arnie said and he was smiling in a nice way, and Dick B. Long turned around and looked at me and he smiled, too, in a nice way, too.

I smiled back. What else was I going to do? And Arnie moved over to my chair and he looked at me real close and he looked at Dick B. Long. "What do you think, Dick B.? Couldn't the kid here be a back-up Twink if we had to like improvise, you know? Looks like he's got what it takes, I'd say" is what he said to Dick B. Long. Then he swung back to me and reached down the front of my outfit. "Do you mind if I just check things out?" is what he said, but by then he was pretty far along with the checking out so it was too late to say if I minded or I didn't mind and to be truthful I was too surprised to take offense even when Arnie pulled it, the outfit, that is, down to my knees, so that the parts of me that had been floating in the hot tub were sticking straight out and hanging down for Arnie and Dick B. Long to appreciate which is what they both did.

"That's a real pretty cock" is what Dick B. Long said.

"And check out his ass" is what Arnie said. "The kid is grade-A Twink material, Dickiebird, Grade-A prime. What do you say, kid? How would you like to get to know the Dickster here real well?"

I always try to be truthful. I was brought up that way and I have marks on my bottom from my momma's hairbrush and my dad's belt that don't exactly show no more, the marks, that is, but I know they're there and I know why. For when I hadn't been truthful. So I was getting ready to tell Arnie that I certainly felt a lot of admiration for Dick B. Long and was always ready to get to know people I admired, but if he meant did I want Dick B. Long to come at me with his ax handle of a cock, then I wasn't sure that my ass or any other part of me was adequate to the occasion.

I was looking for the right words to say how I felt without making Dick B. Long feel bad, but it turned out I didn't have to do any fancy footwork with my mouth because Dick B. Long came over to me and pulled my outfit back up my legs to where it covered most of me except my belly-button. Then he said to Arnie to stop blowing smoke which I didn't understand because Arnie didn't have no cigarette. "Get real, Arnie" is what Dick B. Long also said. "With all the footage of the Twink you've already took and all the contract language your sweetheart Bernie signed on to it would be a financial disaster" is the way he put it to use a back-up Twink with the Project "nearly in the can."

"Nothing against you, Seth" is what Dick B. Long said to me when he finished explaining what he called "the facts of life" to Arnie. "You've got what it takes, kiddo, I can see that." And feel it, too, is what he said, because his hand was smoothing and patting my behind like Luther had been smoothing and patting Uncle Buddy. I was real flattered that a Star remembered my name and so I thanked him and said I really would like to get to know him and maybe help him with the problem he was having that I could see was upsetting him. Arnie gave me a wink that I didn't totally understand and said he'd leave us to it and wished me luck, and me and Dick B. Long sat down on a big sofa there in the lounge of the X Bar L ranch resort and he commenced to tell me that the problem was with the Twink and it was driving him, Dick B. Long, that is, out of his mind is the way he expressed it.

The way he spelled it out was that the Twink was playing mind games with him because the Twink thought he, the Twink, that is, oughtta be the Star and Dick B. Long just part of the Supporting Cast because Dick B. had been around a while and everybody in the world already knew every inch of his cock by heart whilst the Twink was a discovery sensation who had so many hits on his web page he'd given up counting. I didn't understand all the words Dick B. Long used but I got his drift. I recollected how it had been when a neighbor asked my dad could he leave his young bull at our place for a day or two and my dad had said yes and Andy Jackson had gotten real worried and despondent and off his feed. So I thought I understood what was troubling Dick B. Long and I tried to cheer him up some by saying the Twink was dead wrong. Not everybody in the world knew every inch of his cock, Dick B. Long's cock, that is, by heart. I had just seen it for the first time is what I said and Uncle Buddy hadn't never seen it at all. "But I know he'd like to" is what I said "because it is a wonder of nature and it looks real good on you, Mr. Long" is more of what I said. All of which was truthful.

Dick B. Long thanked me, but what he said was that it could be a heavy burden to carry a wonder of nature down there between your legs since that's the only part of you some people took any interest in was how he put it and your other abilities and talents just got ignored. Like his voice. Dick B. Long said he had a real pleasant baritone and a wide reper-twar is the word he used of Broadway show tunes and country and western, but there was never no place for musical numbers in adult videos is what he complained and producers like Bernie only wanted to see him plowing some Twink's ass and all their asses looked the same by now and the thrill was pretty well gone so it was no wonder if now and then he couldn't get it up is what Dick B. Long told me with his real pleasant baritone choking up now and then.

Worst of all, and it was about here that Dick B. Long pulled me up against him and put his forehead down next to my neck and really did choke up, is when a pissant dickless wonder with a pretty face and a six-pack like some belly dancer says he don't want to spread his legs for me because he'll have to have plastic surgery on his asshole afterwards which his HMO won't pay for and besides he don't want to be topped by no growtesk has-been with hair growing on his back. All of which, Dick B. Long made real clear, was things the Twink, who Dick B. Long described as a pissant dickless wonder, had said about him, Dick B. Long, that is, and some of them to his face.

I told Dick B. Long he had no call to be so upset. I'd met truckdrivers is what I said that had hair on their backs and their shoulders so thick they hardly had to wear shirts except in the dead of winter and they wasn't the least bit growtesk. They was fully operational in my experience is what I said and some of them would have made Andy Jackson take notice even if they wasn't no competition for you, Dick B. Long, that is, is the way I tried to cheer him up.

At least he laughed when I finished, even if it was a pretty short laugh, more like a pleasant baritone bark, the kind that Sammy, my part-beagle, gives when I come home and he's glad to see me but still wonders where I've been. He, Dick B. Long, that is, not Sammy, said hair was alright on truckdrivers but bad news on a Star stud in the adult video business unless it was for a fetish film that he didn't want no part of because it would be the end of his career in the mainstream. Since I hadn't never heard of fetish films, I couldn't give much answer to Dick B. Long on that point so I just did some smoothing and patting of his back where the hair could be growing even though on account of his shirt, which was flannel and a nice plaid pattern, I couldn't tell if hair was really growing or not.

Dick B. Long patted and smoothed me back and I began to feel real close to him and unhappy for him that the pissant dickless wonder was driving him out of his mind and then I had a thought. Maybe it was provoked by Dick B. Long taking one of my hands and putting it down between his legs so I could feel how close to me he said he was beginning to feel. I knew from hitchhiking with truckdrivers what was probably coming next and even though it occurred to me that some time working on Dick B. Long's ax handle of a cock would make this day something I'd want to write up for my descendants to know about when I was dead, I truthfully felt that it was honor enough to have a Star want to do those things with me and that I'd prefer doing them with Jack who came into the X Bar L ranch resort's lounge just about then and said he had a fire burning in his cabin and not just in the fireplace neither and was I ready to come with him and get warm.

Which I was, ready, that is. I didn't want to give no offense, though, to Dick B. Long who was doing me the honor of holding my hand on a part of his jeans where I could feel his ax handle of a cock starting in to stretch out. Besides, Dick B. Long had said that the way the Twink was treating him was just about the most hurtful rejection a man of his position in the adult video industry could suffer and it was taking a terrible toll on his self-respect is what he said. Well, sir, that was it, wasn't it? is what I thought when Dick B. Long commenced to talk about respect. That is what he had taught those players in "Boys a-Simmer" to give him and it is what had made that story so inspiring.

So my idea was to find a way to make the Twink give Dick B. Long that kind of respect and I thought Uncle Buddy might just be able to help out in bringing the Twink around. I didn't want to spell it all out to Dick B. Long just then, though, but I did tell him I admired the way he was bearing up under such a burden of suffering and I wanted to do what I could to help him if he'd let me. Which was maybe not exactly the right thing to say because it caused him to put his hand between my legs and say he'd be grateful for my help and he had a fireplace in his cabin, too. He had a big hand, which was logical considering how big other parts of him was, and I enjoyed having him put it where he had put it, his hand, that is, whilst my hand could feel him growing and stiffening up inside his jeans. But I said I had been thinking about another kind of help and that I had an idea that might get the Twink to show Dick B. Long the respect he deserved and get with it as a team player is what I said. Since I was just a stray who'd wandered into this corral, the big-time film crew, that is, what I said is I thought I should tell Jack about my idea and see what he thought of it.

Dick B. Long looked at me not real pleased but not pissed-off neither like Princess Leia and what he said was he understood, but his head dropped down between his shoulders like it, his head, that is, had done in the hot tub and I could see his feelings was hurt and I had done the hurting. Which was the last thing I wanted to do. I really did respect him, so I took his hand off me and my hand off him and I got up off the sofa and went to where Jack was standing and whispered to him to go back to the cabin and bank the fire and I'd come along presently. Then I went back to the sofa and sat down real close to Dick B. Long and said I wanted to ask a favor if that was all right. Which he said it was, to ask a favor, that is, and what did I want.

I said I wanted to kiss him. I'd never kissed a Star is what I said and until today I never kissed nobody of the male persuasion. And besides, I really like you and respect you is what I told Dick B. Long and I was being truthful, and it would mean a lot to me to have a kiss of yours that I would always remember. Dick B. Long raised up his head then and he looked at me as if he wanted to be sure I was being truthful and he must have satisfied himself that I was because he put his arms around me and he put our mouths together and we kissed and he commenced to cry.

I felt real ashamed then because I hadn't wanted to make Dick B. Long cry. My idea had been to cheer him up and maybe show him some respect so that he'd feel better about himself and look what happened was our lips touched and that set him off to sobbing. So I started to say how sorry I was that I'd upset him and he said I hadn't, I'd made him happy and when he was happy sometimes he cried and he was the one who was sorry is what he said for confusing me. "I don't get kissed much" is what he said "at least not on the mouth and not by a smart, handsome youngster like you are, Seth," is the compliment he paid me. "Guys put their mouths on my prick a lot and sometimes on my butthole" is what he said "but that is not real, human contact like what you just did for me and I will always be grateful." And he sobbed some more and I used my fingers to brush some tears off his cheeks and I kissed him again, maybe a little harder than the first time, and I just held him close to me till he seemed to quieten down and pull the reins up on himself.

"Thank you, Seth" is what he said then and "you go talk with Jack now and tell him your idea and tell him, too, that he's lucky to have you doing his thinking for him." And he, Dick B. Long, that is, smiled. And I smiled back because I was so pleased that I'd gotten Dick. B. Long to smile at all considering how hangdog he'd been. He told me he'd watch himself some TV, probably, or maybe one of his other films, but he'd be all right on his own and it was thanks to me and Jack was lucky is what he said a second time and I'd better go now or he, Dick B. Long, that is, might change his mind about keeping our human contact to mouth kissing. And he smiled again and we had a hug without a kiss and I went to Jack's cabin where the fire was burning.

Jack was waiting for me by it, the fire, that is, and since it was warm there, he wasn't wearing much, just the smallest pair of underpants I'd ever seen that looked real good on him because they made his special attractions bunch out in a different way than from the way they had been when I last saw them and since there was just the firelight on them, his underpants and special attractions, that is, the flickering made things change size back and forth. It was very interesting and I thought it would have been a challenge for Arnie like by the pool only different. Jack gave me his real, warm smile when he saw where I was looking but he teased me, too, because he said he'd figured that I was the fickle type more than the fucking type and was probably sampling Dick B. Long's wares and wouldn't want to bother with him, Jack, that is, no more. To which I said I wasn't no fickle type at all and I hoped I was the fucking type and what was we waiting on is what I asked.

So we didn't wait any more time than it took Jack to get me out of the sweats he had gotten me into before supper and for me to get him out of those underpants that was all he had on and for both of us to get from the fireplace to the bed where I said I was the fucking type who liked being fucked and would he like to find out how much I liked it, being fucked, that is. He said he had a reasonable amount of curiosity on that point and would be glad to have a demonstration if I would let him demonstrate something he thought might come as a pleasant surprise for me. It was, the demonstration, that is, a very pleasant surprise since the surprise was having Jack put his tongue where I had never thought of a tongue getting put which was on my rear end and even in it, my rear end, that is. If Jack hadn't had his arms around my waist and his fingers around my pecker pretty tight, I wouldn't be surprised if I wouldn't have gone straight up off that bed onto the ceiling when Jack's tongue got put where it got put. Even if I hadn't worked Dick B. Long's axhandle of a cock after all, when Jack's tongue commenced working me I knew that the day had turned into one I would have to write down for my descendants to know about after I was dead. Which is why I am doing that, writing it down, that is, which you know because you are reading what I am writing.

The fucking part was worth writing about, too, because Jack and me fit together so good that he just put himself, not his tongue, that is, into me in one considerate, firm push that filled me right up without hurting me one bit. And the best of it was the things we said to each other whilst the fucking progressed about how much I liked having his cock in me and how good he said it felt to be there, inside me, that is, and how I had never felt so good having anybody fuck me the way he was fucking me and how he had never felt so right as he felt with my ankles around his neck and my eyes shining up at him so happy and smart. That was the best of being fucked by Jack, but almost as good was when we said the same things to each other when it got to be my turn to fuck him except, of course, he was the one saying how good my dick felt inside him and I was the one who said the light in his eyes made me feel I had found a real, close personal friend which I had always wanted and now had, and all on account of that elk.