Sammy's Lost Tribe

[larkin]

Reference to Oregon Grunge: Sammy, 5 years later

Sammy's Lost Tribe.

by Larkin 2014 All rights reserved

 

The younger one was stunted for his age making him look younger and less imposing then maybe he should have been or wanted to be. The general shape of his body was hidden in baggy grunge and Chinese cottons.

As soon as their eyes met a conspiracy had been established. Sammy, the smaller one waited to see what the taller and older man would do. Sammy never made the first move. Separately they each scanned the area looking other intruders. The factory ruin was a maze of broken concrete walls and rusted beams.

Unnoticed, they went behind a half demolished wall concealing themselves from open view to a place where guys came to piss. The scent was strong and it hung in the air around them. The smaller one got down and tugged open other's belt and then lifted the large cock out from his underwear.  He gave a half smile and then put it into his mouth. It started slow, consolidating one's need for the other. They both knew how it worked. They were complete strangers to each other. He knew that the taller one was only using him to get off. It was barely 10 minutes when the man's cock was so hard that it caused him to gasp and moan. The man felt the cum welling up inside of him. The one on his knees liked the sounds of gratification coming from the man. He devoted himself and worked even harder to bring it on. He felt his head being held with two hands and then,...an erratic stream of fluid flowed into his mouth in doses.

Sammy stayed with it until the man's cock wilted and sagged. The man re-organized himself and next, when Sammy looked, he was gone.

Holding the small remnant in one hand and a lit match in the other, he smoked the remains of a small joint and then sipped smoke from it until no more could be had. When it was done, he tossed it away, spit and then returned his hands to his pockets. There was no one else around so he walked back up to the road.

~

His hair, parted in the middle, was untended and maybe a little filthy. Knotted on a raw hide around his neck hung a small, crude pendant made of clay. It was scratched with symbols. When he first put it on, Sammy imagined himself part of the lost tribe of Indian horsemen, gone forever into the sky.

On his face was a constant pout that only rarely would resolve into a smile or laugh. It had a haunting, rough boy appeal that stayed with people he met long after he had gone. It was as if Sammy was in a constant state of disappointed resignation...

"The man is gone." He was thinking about the encounter just passed.

Sammy was looking among the ruins for some essential piece of his life that was missing. He didn't know exactly what it was but a long time ago, when he was just a tiny child, no one made sure that it was in place. No one was very interested.

He looks down at the treasured pendent that hung around his neck and dreams that he is riding like the wind across the Great Plains. On both sides of him ride his brothers, sweaty, half naked with spear and arrow. He rubs the pendent again and then,..lets it drop.

~

He looks into the windows that go the length of the folding garage door and then lifts it high enough to slip underneath. This is where Luke lives. He has been banished to the garage. His parents figured parking the cars in the driveway seemed like a small price to pay to get Luke the hell out of the house.

The other day they both looked up to see Luke's mother standing in the door that connected to the house.

"I don't know how you live with yourself, You are a god-damn pig!"

Sammy had made himself comfortable on the old couch.

He had a rare smile and looked at Luke. "Yeah, put that in your pipe and smoke it why don't ya!"  

He paused and then, "Speakin of which, you got any?"

Like most of the people in the world, Luke was taller than Sammy, but his body was stocky and a little out of shape. His hair was long and black and he pulled it back and tied it to keep it out of the way.  Luke looked plain and ordinary. His face was not boyish or cute like Sammy's, it had matured, making him look like a man ten years older than he was.

Luke's garage room consisted of a large unmade bed, a beat-up old couch that sat in front of tables where he kept the TV, computer and various sound systems. Sometimes there would be a pyramid of empty beer cans.

"Turn that fuckin thing down!" said someone from within the house.

Luke was re-organizing the spaghetti of wires and cables.

Preoccupied, he had his back to Sammy. "Little dude!  What is up?!"

"Nothing." 

Sammy would never tell him about the incident in the ruins because it was isolated in some other dimension.

"Luke, can I sleep here tonight?"

"Sure you can, why do you even ask?  Mi Casa su Casa."

Sammy liked Luke and was grateful for his generosity. He liked to think of him as a big brother but like the Guru on the mount, Luke never seemed to leave the garage.

They spent the evening together playing games and sorting music. There was no pot but Luke had stashed away 2, 40 oz's of beer.

Sammy was beat and he had fallen asleep first. When he woke up in was in the wee hours. Luke was laying in the middle of his bed, passed out. He wore old white briefs that usually displayed his cock and balls as a lumpy mass but at the moment, While asleep, he was hard and it was stretching his underwear out of shape. Sammy peered over the couch to see the sleeping Luke.

He studied it and thought about it. He would have gladly blown Luke. The two had jerked off together once or twice and it was fun but not intimate. Luke stayed up on his bed, claiming it as his turf. Jerking off was his entire sex life. Girls didn't much care for him and an accommodation for boys didn't really interest him either.

Sammy had no intention of starting anything nocturnal because he knew it would probably work. Well, it would work for a while and then it would die and he'd have to move on. It would be better just to stay friends.

He lay back down on the couch and pulled his jeans and underwear down to his knees. He slowly began to jerk off.

He thought about the man he had met bus station the week before. The man wasn't arriving or going anywhere and his car was parked only a few blocks away. Sammy went with him to Voyager Motor Inn. There was an unspecific promise of money that symbolically put the man in charge. Their conversation was perfunctory. He stripped to the waist and ordered Sammy to take off all his clothes. Like a prisoner or a slave, the flannel jacket, the hooded sweat shirt and the faded Green Day tee shirt, all fell onto the motel carpet. Sitting on the side of the bed he popped off his Nikes and worn out socks and then he unthreaded his belt. Standing, his lose pants fell and he stepped out of them.

In spite of balding, the man was trim, athletic and still in his thirties.

He looked Sammy over. "You really are a skinny little wimp? You look like the wind could blow you away."

It was supposed to be a friendly joke but Sammy was unmoved one way or another.

Positioned on the bed on all fours, the man examined Sammy as if he was livestock. When he got more into it, he kicked off his own pants and started priming his large cock. He retrieved a small bottle of gel and fingered it up Sammy's rectum.

He asked Sammy, "You think you can handle this? Once I get goin, I'm not going to want to stop."

Sammy's voice was barely audible." Yeah, I don't care."

There really wasn't much foreplay. He slicked up his cock and then began penetration. He continued until his stiff cock had worked its way in and then out and then back in. With Sammy's thin body held in place, the man started the soft machine. He was bigger than Sammy and at first, the penetration did hurt but even so, he didn't complain. Instead, he gave himself up completely and let it happen. He wanted it to happen. If it was ill treatment, for some strange reason he figured he deserved it.

The man swooned. "That's what I like, a tight ass."

In a view from above, Luke was sprawled out on his bed, still dreaming. At the foot of the bed, laying length ways on the couch, Sammy was squirting his modest dose all over his belly.

In his mind, Sammy was reconstructing the image of getting fucked. It was impersonal. First from behind and then on his back with his legs rolled back looking up into the man's face. The man was just a little too enthusiastic about his own performance. He heaved and grunted and pushed harder and his sweat dripped down on Sammy.

He remembered the end as being chaotic and then, evaporating into nothing. They dressed and got ready to go. The man gave Sammy 2 twenties on the way out, got into his car and waved him good-bye. Sammy walked back.

Lying on the couch, he pulled up his pants and drifted off to sleep. Hours later, Luke was having his first beer of the day. Wearing only his underwear he had rejoined his friends on World of Warcraft.

~

After knocking on the front door for 10 minutes, Sammy went around to the side of the house and tried to look into the window. He tapped on the glass until the curtain was pulled aside. He smiled at Sammy and signaled for him to go around to the front. Ken was wearing a robe. He hadn't really gotten up yet.

"Hi Sammy, did you eat yet?"

Ken was once a professor in some college but now, much like Luke, he didn't go out much. In the days when he kept himself together, Ken was handsome and even an attractive man but lately his attitude was, “Fuck it?”

Along with his boy friend, Ken was one of those "out and respectable gay couples" but one day the boy friend died or left and Ken had never been the same. That was more than a dozen years ago.

Ken made eggs and toast and instant coffee. Sammy opted for soda.

"Where have you been? I've missed you, you fuckin little shit!"

Sammy didn't look up. He was content and was busy eating the warm breakfast. He felt absolutely secure with Ken as if it was a home of his own.

"Before you leave, you're gonna take those filthy clothes off and let me throw them in the wash. How are you fixed for cash? I'll give you some but don't go spending it on over priced pot. You're cute, let them buy it. They'll give you a joint just to get into your pants."

Sammy smiled because he knew that was true.

"Why do you run the streets like a little rat, suckin god knows whose dick when I'd like to be the one taken care of you. What's the matter with you?"

Sammy figured that Ken hadn't had company for awhile because he just couldn't seem to shut up. When they finished eating, Ken dragged Sammy into the bedroom where they both climbed onto the large bed. His bedroom was piled high with stacks of books and magazines. He didn't have a TV because he said that it interrupted his alpha waves.

He pushed Sammy off the bed, "Come on, take'em off now, so I can get them into the wash."

Ken's loosely tied robe made him no better than a flasher. When Sammy had gotten them all off Ken scooped them up and ran off.

When he returned, " Sammy!..Those dirty underpants too, take 'em off.  Fuck! Sammy you are such a dirty pigglet!"

Ken held the pair of underwear in his hand and looking at it, said,  "Actually, these are going into my museum of well worn underwear. I'll buy you a few new pairs."

Sammy approved of Ken's eccentricities.

Kenny dropped his robe. He was naked and the two crawled under the covers together. Kenny pulled Sammy into an intimate embrace. He had reached down under the covers and was tugging Sammy's cock into a stiff erection. He petted his scrotum and slipped his fingers through his ass.

"Sammy, why don't you come and live with me? I'd do anything for you."

Ken pulled the covers aside so that he could suck his cock. Sammy thought that it was one way to get him to shut up. Ken licked his balls. It was in this position that Sammy jerked off hard to cum.

When it subsided, you would think that Ken was the one that had the orgasm. They cuddled together.

He repeated himself. "Sammy, why don't you come and live with me? I'd do anything for you."

Sammy looked into Ken unshaven face and shrugged.

"Sammy, I know they fucked you up a long time ago. Stay here with me, I promise I'll be good to you, I'll never let anything bad happen to you."

There was a pause. "I know you have ramble, I'll cope with it. Just save some for me and don't rub my nose in it."

Ken considered this a magnanimous concession but Sammy, many years younger, knew that it would never work. Ken realized that he was pushing a little too much so he let it go.

Sammy was so used to keeping people at arm's length and Ken threatened all that.

He smoked a cigarette and Sammy lay, looking out the bedside window.

"Kenny, where are the Great Plains?"

Ken blew out a column of smoke. "Somewhere in the mid-West, I think?"

"Do you think they still have horses there?"

fini

[JoeWriterMan]

This first chapter caught my attention and kept me reading even though I am not into fuck-and-suck themed stories.  F&S stories are all about the same... they have very little 'story' substance & lots of sex.

Good start.  This chapter needs some editing before going to press.  Good luck.

Joe

[larkin]

This first chapter caught my attention and kept me reading even though I am not into fuck-and-suck themed stories.  F&S stories are all about the same... they have very little 'story' substance & lots of sex.

Good start.  This chapter needs some editing before going to press.  Good luck.

Joe

Thank you for the comment. I appreciate it.

Although this bit of fiction seems to have a healthy serving of suck + fuck it is not for no reason.  Each encounter is very different from the last. Sammy maintains a strange, passive isolation that appears to be impenetrable    His life is the result of neglect, lack of guidance and perhaps some trauma. He longs for something of real meaning but sees nothing. It is an authentic story.

Thx again Joe

[JoeWriterMan]

I've been known to sound a bit like the infamous Simon when it comes to giving story critiques, just as I have received over the years I've put a story out for thoughts and opinions.  Each criticism, good, bad, or indifferent has given me food for thought.  Some were accepted.  Some were rejected.  Others I gave a brief nod or a shake of the head in the negative, until later when the same situation presented itself or another reader made the same or a similar comment.  It's all a part of the process.

While my opinion hasn't changed, I do look for more chapters as I believe your story has good potential for being a really good one.  Keep going.

Joe

[larkin]

I've been known to sound a bit like the infamous Simon when it comes to giving story critiques, just as I have received over the years I've put a story out for thoughts and opinions.  Each criticism, good, bad, or indifferent has given me food for thought.  Some were accepted.  Some were rejected.  Others I gave a brief nod or a shake of the head in the negative, until later when the same situation presented itself or another reader made the same or a similar comment.  It's all a part of the process.

While my opinion hasn't changed, I do look for more chapters as I believe your story has good potential for being a really good one.  Keep going.

Joe

Joe,

You do not have to apologize for a thoughtful critique. 

I am reaching for something unformed and elusive.  I probably shouldn't have posted it yet because I'm not sure where it is going.  As you must know, any kind of feedback is helpful.  In spite of it all, I do not consider my efforts porno.   

[Curtis]

I do agree with Joe that there is need for editing.  The other thing I see missing, at least for me, is what is up with the location?  You talk about the old building.  Is this after some type of disaster?  Perhaps something about why Sammy is on the streets.  Might give his character more "umph"

[larkin]

I do agree with Joe that there is need for editing.  The other thing I see missing, at least for me, is what is up with the location?  You talk about the old building.  Is this after some type of disaster?  Perhaps something about why Sammy is on the streets.  Might give his character more "umph"

 

Thank you for the comment. It is appreciated..

The ruins are any derelict structure where guys go for furtive encounters.

I've called it flash fiction as a contemporary description but it is more commonly a vignette or potentially a piece of something larger.  You might read, Oregon Grunge.  It is a related although disjointed piece of a younger Sammy.

It is all experimentation.  

Edited January 15, 2016 by larkin