Sydney/Taree Australia
Part 10

While B was shaving and showering, I decided to take a stroll down to the river, which was only a block away. Although it was just after 7am, it was really an hour earlier 'cause of daylight saving. The scattered clouds were still reflecting the rich golden rays of the rising sun, while the enormous river glistened and rippled as it made its lazy way to the Pacific Ocean just 10 miles away.

Apart from the occasional car passing by, the town was still pretty much asleep. Our feathered friends were wide awake, though. Gulls, pelicans, and other water birds were busy hunting breakfast. But despite the gulls' incessant squawking and squabbling, the atmosphere was about as peaceful and relaxing as you could get. For a while, I stood on the wide grassy bank and watched in awe as two pelicans demonstrated their mastery of the air; effortlessly flapping their giant wings from time to time to keep themselves skimming just inches above the river in search of fish.

Just under the northern end of the steel bridge that spanned the river, was a rope tied to one of the bridge's beams, which was maybe thirty or forty feet above the surface of the water. The bottom end of the rope was dangling just a foot above the river. No doubt, the local kids used the rope as some kinda swing.

I'd just finished a long and satisfying piss, and put my semi back inside my shorts, when I heard a noise behind me. I turned to see a dark-haired, dark-skinned teen standing a few yards away. He threw a small stone into the river, causing a splash that sent dozens of ripples scampering frantically in all directions like they were fleeing for their lives.

"Hi."

"G'day." Then there was a long pause as if the guy was trying to let me know that he wasn't in the mood for convo. Or maybe I'd embarrassed him 'cause I'd whipped out the ol' snake for a piss. And then, "You gonna take a swim?" His voice was young but had a cool husky quality, and his accent was broad Aussie, much broader than B's.

"Nope. Just cruising, dude."

"Thought you were gonna take a swim 'cause you're wearing shorts. Way cool shorts, man," he added as he checked out my baggies. "Me and my bros swim here. We jump off the bridge, too, but we're not supposed to."

"Must be a deep river."

"Deeper now that you've pissed in it," he giggled. "You from around here?"

"Nope. I'm from the States... Florida."

"Like on TV? Wow!" The teen threw another stone into the water and studied the ripples for a moment before asking the next question. "You know any black fellas over there?"

"Yep."

"Cool. You got any black mates?"

"Some. Are you an Aborigine?"

"Koori culture, mate."

"What's that?"

"We go back a while... like 50,000 years or whatever."

"Must have a pretty big family photo album."

The guy's thick, moist lips parted, and revealed a larger than average set of gleaming white teeth as he grinned. He was dressed in a torn, dirty white t, and cut-off blue jeans, but wasn't wearing any shoes. His eyes were almost black, and his nose was kinda broad, but his face was handsome. Cute even.

"Anyway, I guess I'd better split."

"Hey," I said as he turned to walk away, "you wanna rap for a while?"

"What about?"

"I dunno. I've been in Taree for less than a day. Maybe you can tell me about this place."

"Not much to tell."

"OK, maybe I can tell you about my hometown, Tampa."

"I guess it's like on TV, huh? Lots of big cars and buildings and stuff."

"Don't believe everything you see on TV, buddy. When I arrived in Oz, I figured I'd see kangaroos hopping all over the place, but I ain't seen one yet."

"Gotta go way outa town to see those fellas, mate, into the bush."

I offered him my hand, and introduced myself. "Name's Daniel."

"Bobby. Hey, maybe I'll catch you later."

"Cool."

I watched the guy follow the track up the bank of the river to the bridge, then begin to cross it, heading south. He paused after about a minute, gave me a quick smile and a wave, then kept walking. "Woohoo! What a hot looking guy," I said to myself. He was a bit rough around the edges, but kinda sexy in an unkempt way. And the more I thought about him, the harder my boner was getting. Should I jack off? Hell, why not? There was no one around... well, not that I could see. But just to be sure I wouldn't be busted by passing traffic, I walked a few paces 'til I was directly under the bridge. Then I dropped my shorts around my ankles, and began to fist my pulsating seven inches.

Each time I heard a car or truck pass overhead, the thrill of jacking in the open air was increased. It was also kinda scary, so I'd pause a moment, check out the scene, then, once I was sure the coast was clear, continue to milk the lizard. Awesome!

But my thoughts were focused on Bobby, naked, jumping off the bridge into the river. He was swimming toward me as my fist slid tantalizingly up and down the length of my spit-lubed teen meat. Then, as I felt my balls tighten, and the electrically-charged rush of cum about to begin its final journey, I imagined Bobby's big toothy grin above the surface of the water just a few feet from where I was standing.

I felt my knees buckle, and my boner stiffen almost to bursting point. Aaaggghhh! The first ribbon of white boy juice flew through the air like a wriggling worm, hung momentarily, then fell directly into where I imagined Bobby's open mouth to be. More shiny white missiles followed in rapid succession as I groaned with pleasure, but it wasn't 'til the last that I was brought back to reality, and watched my blobs of cum floating slowly down river. I figured it would only be a matter of time before they became a fish's breakfast.

"Vegemite on toast? You're kidding, B! Jeez, I can't eat that weird stuff!"

"Try it."

I took a sniff, then a small bite. "Hmmm, not too bad. Kinda savory."

"Aussies love it. Besides, most of my kitchen stuff is still packed away, so this was the best I could do for breakfast."

Over coffee - and more Vegemite on toast 'cause I was beginning to like it - I told B about my encounter with Bobby. "He was kinda shy... like he didn't wanna hang around. Anyway, he was a pretty hot looker, so I jacked off under the bridge." And with that, I shoved a putrid finger under B's nose. "See? You can still smell it."

"Daniel! Not while I'm eating breakfast!"

"But the smell will be gone by the time you finish breakfast."

"You're outrageous! Imagine if I did something like that to you!"

"You wouldn't 'cause you're an adult. So what are you saying? You jacked off while I was away?"

"None of your business."

"That means you did," I cracked. "I can tell by the guilty look on your face. Hey, B, I wonder how many older guys jack off but never tell anybody."

"We'll never know the answer to that, Daniel, because nobody ever tells anybody. Well, larrikins like The Pest and Dio do, but they're exceptions."

"So what happens? Guys get to a certain age and that's it? No more jacking off?"

"Not under bridges in broad daylight." B swallowed the last of his toast before giving me the hairy eyeball. "Listen, Daniel, you can't go around pissing and jacking in public places in broad daylight. What if you'd gotten sprung?"

"I was sprung... at least I was when I was pissing. Bobby saw me. Anyway, B, stop getting all bent outa damn shape. Nothing happened. Everything's cool. OK? Hey, I gotta go take a shower, then I'll help you unpack. By the way, where are Sue and Lindsay?"

"Still asleep. It was a long day yesterday and they're not used to all the excitement."

Unpacking endless numbers of cartons had to be the most boring job ever. Totally fucking mind numbing. Even by late afternoon, there were still a heap more cartons to go. But, at least the place was slowly taking shape, and looking a helluva lot more like home sweet home.

"That's it," B ordered just before 5pm as he surveyed the place. "We'll do the rest tomorrow. Time for a drink."

"You've been drinking all fucking day!"

"Time for another drink, then. Stop being hypercritical."

"I don't understand how you can drink all fucking day and still be standing."

"Practice makes perfect, Daniel. Always remember that."

"I don't mean to be rude, B, but are you an alcoholic?"

"Not yet, Daniel. Rome wasn't built in a day."

"I'm being serious here, B. Stop being frivolous for fuck sake!"

"Sue and Lindsay are alcoholics. There's a limit to what they can consume before they're as full as bulls' bums, hanging onto the carpet as if they were dangling precariously from a precipice. Two or three glasses of wine and they're anybody's. But they can handle a reasonable quantity of beer. And me?" B shrugged before he continued. "I drink a helluva lot, mate, but I still manage to function quite well."

"You could function better without it."

"Maybe. But I'd never get any sleep. I have a hyperactive brain. I drank plain water for a whole week once - eight tall glasses a day. Yuck! And I spent the entire week searching for things to do 'cause I couldn't stop this damn brain of mine from working overtime. It needs to be constantly anaesthetized."

I figured this was an ideal moment to prove to B that he wasn't at his best after he'd had several drinks. "How do you spell that?"

"T-H-A-T."

"Jeez, B, you're fucking impossible."

"I'm impossible??? What about you! We've been in Taree all of five seconds and already you've pissed in the Manning River and jacked off under the bridge for the entire town to witness! What's next?"

"I'll think of something," I grinned. "Anyway, why don't you have a coffee?"

"Because coffee's hot and I'm hot. Not to mention bothered. Besides, coffee's a stimulant, and the last thing I need is to be stimulated. There's more than enough stimulus around here already with you parading around like... like... THAT!"

"Like what?" I protested. "I've got shorts on."

"And that's all you've got on! How do you expect me to concentrate on anything while all those tanned things of yours are rippling and bulging and shining with sweat?"

"I don't mind you gawking, B. It's a way cool compliment."

"It's a distraction, that's what it is."

"OK, OK, B, I get the fucking message. Jeez! I'll put a shirt on."

"You can't. All your shirts are in the wash."

"How can my shirts be in the wash? You haven't used the washing machine yet."

"I... uh, they're in the soiled clothes basket. Same thing."

"It's not the same thing, B. I'll wear a soiled shirt 'til you put it in the wash."

"They're all wrinkled. I can't have you wearing a wrinkled shirt."

"OK, so I can wear one of your shirts. You got anything cool?"

"Only what's in the fridge. Anyway, I don't want you wearing any of my shirts, and yours are in the basket ready for the wash. So there! Don't argue."

"Hey, B, why don't you just say that you'd prefer me not to wear a shirt? 'Cause I figure that's what you're thinking."

"You're a teen. How can you know what an adult is thinking?"

"'Cause something weird happens to adults. And you've got me worried, B. I don't want the same thing to happen to me."

B grabbed two beers from the fridge, then asked me to follow him to his office. He offered me the easy chair, while he chose to sit on his ergonomic stool. We each popped the ringtabs on our cans of VB, and took a sip. "Daniel," he began thoughtfully after swallowing, "you're right of course. I enjoy it when you run around shirtless. The only reason I complain about it - as well as about the other things you do, like this morning down by the river - is because I can't be seen to be condoning your behaviour. Mine is a very difficult situation to be in. I'm walking a very fine line here, mate. Adults are supposed to be responsible. People get to a stage in life where they're pressured into leaving the ways of their youth behind; otherwise they're accused of "acting like a kid". It's weird when you think about it. If a kid acts like an adult, he's complimented by being described as "quite mature for his age". But if an adult behaves like a kid, he's described as being a bloody wally!"

"What's a bloody wally?"

"I'd be a bloody wally if I thought what you did down by the river was cool."

"So I shouldn't have done it?"

"That's not what I'm saying."

"So what are you saying?"

"I'm saying.... actually, I don't have a bloody clue what I'm saying."

"I think I know what you're saying, B. You're saying that you can't condone my behaviour, but you're glad I am the way I am. Is that right?"

"If I answered your question in the affirmative, I'd be condoning your behaviour."

"You're going around in fucking circles, B!"

"And who do I have to blame for that? Huh?"

Copyright © 2001 All rights reserved. mrbstories