NECK OF THE WOODS

Shane Allison

 

 

 

 

Tom Brown Park is hot with cops hiding in plain clothes. Their blood runs blue in moral veins.

They’ve been busting men left and right. Idiots getting caught and hauled off in cuffs to county lockup. Dumb-asses if you ask me. Dumb with a capital D. There’s no way that shit is gonna happen to me. I’ve been doing this for too long, and I’ve never been busted. Going on twelve years now. That’s right, twelve years, and never been arrested for so much as pissing in the woods. They know me by name at the bus depot toilets. I’ve got my number sprawled across every stall wall of every mall, library and college campus toilet. So much so I have to put my cell on vibrate. Dudes of all types: from freaky college boys to piggish professors lusting after my ass.

Everybody’s been warned to stay away. If punks are not getting busted, they’re getting beaten up by cops drunk with hate, with homophobia in their blood.

More and more trade has started appearing at the lake. I cruise about to find two pickups parked. Some hairy daddy whom I’ve never seen before, dressed in overalls and boots caked with dried mud, is leaning against a Chevy. Can’t see who’s in the Toyota Tundra due to the tinted windows. I’ve never seen them before, and they don’t look like cops.

I only come out here when there’s nowhere else to go, when I get tired of seeing the same tired, trifling trade at X-Mart, and the cock-teasing breeders too scared of their own shadow to want to get down seriously. I don’t want to do anything, they say. It’s too risky. This is the time of year this place is swarming with dick. Hell, I’ve seen men walk ass-naked in plain daylight. Don’t give a damn who sees.

I’m starting to see sheriffs more and more out here though. One almost rode up on me while I was jacking off. Looked up and there he was. Motherfuckers are good at sneaking up on you. My friend Lynda says it’s been on the news about how they’re cracking down. I told her I didn’t know anything about it. She’s always telling me to be careful ’cause of diseases and shit. This coming from somebody who’s what, on her third kid?

Apparently, someone saw two men fucking and filed a complaint. If you get arrested, they put your name in the paper now. Teachers and preachers are literally getting caught with their underwear down around their knees. Fools. Damn fools. Most of the trade that come out here are big-bellied husbands on the down-low from the wife. Talking about how their wives won’t suck their dicks anymore.

That country bear is still standing there. He’s not a hustler. What hustler wears overalls and dips snuff?

Fuck it! You just gotta have a fuck-it attitude about shit these days. He leans steady against the splashes of his truck as I saunter past him through thick mounds of sand.

“How you doin’?” I ask, giving him one of my fuck me looks.

He doesn’t speak, but stares off at the golden beams that shimmer off the lake.

Well, fuck you, too. Some people can be so rude. When I enter the toilets, I’m hit with the stench of stale piss from the unflushed commodes. A cement partition divides the two. The floor is strewn with wet wads of toilet paper. The walls are moderate with graffiti. MEET HERE FOR HEAD, GWM LOOKING FOR FUCKBUDDY, FOR A GOOD TIME, CALL TAMMY, and pictures of dicks drawn in black marker.

As I lean against the wall behind me, legs ajar, dick thick, the portly silver daddy walks in. He stands in front of a row of sinks.

What the hell he doin’? I’m a bit nervous, and decide to hide my dick just in case he’s a cop after all.

“Hey,” he murmurs from the opposite side of the wall. “Are there other places ’round here to go?”

“Excuse me?”

“Places. Are there other places ’round here?” I flush my toilet; pull my jeans and boxers up around my ass, leaving my dick poking out of a plaid slit. He grabs and squeezes it.

“I know a place,” I say. “Let’s go outside. This place has cameras.” A brisk breeze blows across our faces as we walk down a narrow trail. He smells of sweat and dirt, his teeth brown from the tobacco.

“You gotta place?” he asks. I lie and tell him I have roommates. I’m not into bringing trade home. “I’m from Thomasville, Georgia,” he tells me. He follows me down narrow trails, past bushes and trees.

I let him in on a popular spot where everyone goes to make out, a place deep in the mouth of the woods that even the sheriffs don’t know about.

“Lead the way,” he says in a Southern drawl.

We trudge down a gravel trail, stepping over frequent mud holes as we hike past bushes armed with thorns. “So you come out here a lot?” he asks.

“After classes.”

“Where you go t’ school at?”

“Junior college right now, but I start at Florida State in th’ fall.”

“Any action out here?” he queries.

“Yeah, but mos’ly on th’ weekends. You gotta be careful though ‘cause o’ cops an’ shit. They been bustin’ guys left an’ right out here.”

We get to a clearing beneath an oak tree. The ground beneath it is strewn with sun-bleached condom packets.

We stand eye to eye, admiring each other beneath the Spanish moss that lingers above us.

“You ain’ a cop are ya?” I ask.

“Do I look lika cop?”

I heard they gotta tell you if they’re police or not if you ask.

“I was watchin’ you earlia,” I say.

“Watchin’ me where?”

“Up dere back on th’ sof’ shoulda.”

“I was wonderin’ what was up wit dat car. You know dat guy in th’ truck?”

“Neva seen ’im before.”

I caress the bulge that’s snug within my shorts as I stare hungrily at his crotch.

“So whatchu into?” he asks.

“U’m versatile.”

“Take ya dick out,” he says.

I unzip and fork out my dick.

I stroke it. Cum drips from my dickhead.

“Take ya pants down.”

I push them down around my knees. I stand before him in semi-nudeness fingering the shaft, smearing a thumb across the pierced head of my dick.

Suddenly, a chubby, freckled-face ruffian wearing a soiled T-shirt that says IT’S A REDNECK THING, YOU WOULDN’T UNDERSTAND, filthy jeans and sneaks stained from red clay, barrels down upon us. I never heard him coming.

“What we got here, Claude?” Dude grabs me, holding me tight from behind. He presses himself against me. His scent of sweat is just as overpowering as his grip.

“Got us a college boy. Found ‘im in th’shitter.” He pushes me to the cold ground of dead leaves and dirt. A few used rubbers are strewn about.

“Fuck is this?” I say looking up at the boy.

“Hush, nigger,” Claude says, mashing my face into dirt. Willie grabs me by the collar of my shirt and says, “Yoon talk lessen we say.” He stands over me like a master to his slave.

“So le’s see it, boy,” Claude says, as he pulls me over on my back.

“Damn, this boy’s got an earring in his dick,” Willie says. He spits out a mouthful of snuff into a bush nearby.

“Come on, man, take it easy.”

Claude slapped me across the head and said, “Speak when spoken to.” They pull me up and push me against the body of an oak tree.

“Whatcha wanna do wit this nigger, Claude? It be a shame t’ let this ass go t’ was’.” Willie slaps me on my butt caked with dirt.

“Le’s tie ‘im up,” says Claude.

“I got some rope in th’ truck.”

“That’ll do,” Claude says.

When he returns, Claude grabs me, pulling my arms tightly behind me.

“Wait, please!” I beckon.

“Hush now, nigger,” Willie says, kicking me in my side. When he presses me into the ground, Claude jams his knee into my back, binding my wrists. I struggle to see what’s going on. I’m scared for my life, worried that murder is on these brutes’ minds, terrified of becoming a blood-splattered pansy left for dead.

“We gon’ teach you a lesson, boy,” Claude says.

“Hey, Claude, I gotta idea. Why ‘on’ we let ’im go.”

“What? Let ’im go?”

“So we can hunt ’is ass down.” Willie slaps me across my ass. Claude yanks at the knots that bind. “Whatta ya say, nigger, you wanna make a run fuh it?”

“Fuck you!” I yell, spitting dirt.

“Boy’s got a mouth on ‘im,” Claude says. “Do I need t’ clean that mouth out, boy?”

“He’d probably like that shit,” says Willie.

“We go’n letchu go, nigger,” says Claude. “If ya can git to that piece o’ shit car o’ yers befo’ we catcha, ya can go, but if we gitcha, yo black ass is ours.”

“Are you going to untie me?”

“Now what fun would that be, nigger?” Willie says.

“Well? Whatcha waitin’ fuh? Get goin’,” says Claude.

I yank my pants up and run like a bat out of hell, jumping over fallen pine tree branches. I can hear them not far behind, hot on my ass. I’m a possum desperately trying to get away from these demented fucks. I dodge and jump over boulders that have been put in place to cut down on erosion due to the carbon monoxide from highway traffic.

“We go’n gitcha, boy!” they holler. “We comin’, nigger.”

I’m still a ways from my car. I can’t see anything for the woods being so thick with trees. It was hard to move through the woods with my arms tied.

“Here we come, boy!” I can almost feel their breath on my neck. They’re getting closer.

“Where th’ fuck did I park?” Sweat pours down my face, stinging my eyes. My fogged glasses slip off my face.

“Fuck!” I look back, but can’t see them behind me. There’s no sign of them, but they’re close; I can feel it. The thicket of trees becomes sparse. I’m only able to make out the headlights of my car.

I run as fast as my feet will allow. My legs are burning. I’m so tired. It takes everything in me to keep from throwing up.

“Gotcha, boy!” Willie yells, as he tackles me onto the ground. I struggle to worm my way out of his grip, but I don’t have the energy.

“Claude, I got ’im.” Willie pins my beating chest, holding me down.

Claude is sluggish and slowly makes his way to Willie and me.

“Get offa me!”

“Ya almos’ made it, nigger,” Claude says, struggling to catch his breath.

“Now we go’n have some fun wit ’im?”

“Lean ’im ova this tree,” Claude huffs.

Willie drags me over to a fallen tree and pulls my shorts down over my ass.

“Fuck you!” I yell. I make another attempt to break free from the rope.

“Hush, nigger. A deal’s a deal,” says Claude.

“Get ’im ready fuh this cock, Will.”

I can barely make out what is about to go down.

“Hol’ ’im down, Will,” Claude demands.

“Afta he don’, I’s my turn, boy.”

Two cruel hands pry my asscheeks apart.

I hear Will spitting in my asshole. Brittle leaves snap beneath the weight of the heavyset ruffians as they rustle about. Claude straddles me.

“Nigger’s ass iz tight.”

“Let ’im in, boy,” Willie demands, pressing my face into a wet bed of leaves.

I want to hold on to the last tittle of freedom that lies like a pearl between my butt, but Claude is hell-bent on getting in.

I feel Willie’s grip start to weaken, so I buck up.

“Hold his ass down, man, fuck,” Claude says.

“Fuck up off me!” I holler.

“Relax boy,” says Willie, pressing me hard over the tree’s trunk, tightening the rope.

I brace myself, biting down on my bottom lip as Claude pushes into me. The deeper he explores, the harder I bite into my lip, hands clenching dirt. I swallow my fear with bittersweet pleasure.

“You like that, boy?” Willie asks. I can smell the tobacco hot on his breath.

“This whatchu want, nigger?” Claude queries. “Ain’t this whatchu queers come ’ere fuh?”

My dick presses hard against the bark as he continues thrusting himself into me.

“My turn,” Willie says.

“Look like ya go’n need a lotta lube, man,” Claude states. He spits. I can smell snuff rolling between my asscheeks. Willie drives his dick in. He’s not as heavy as Claude on top of me. Claude shuffles in front of me, and holds up my sweaty face, wagging his dick at my lips.

“Whatchu waitin’ on, nigger, an invatation? Open up.”

“Fuck you, hick.”

“Open ya mouth or u’m go’n give ya some t’ yell about.”

Claude slowly works his dick in my mouth.

“Ya give me teeth, boy, I’ll break ya neck.”

He laughs as he fucks my face. I almost gag from the scent of manure and sweat.

“Come on, nigger. Take it like a man.” Each end of me is filled. Willie takes it out on my flesh from the back, while Claude exercises his prejudice from the front.

“Damn, this some hot ass.”

“He gi’ head betta than my ol’ lady,” adds Claude.

They both turn me over on my ass that’s sore and spent. They pin me under their weight.

Willie slathers my dick with snuff. I watch as Claude stands over me undoing the copper rivets of his overalls. He pulls them down around his thighs exposing an ass grown with dark fur. He straddles me, and lowers himself onto my dick. My piercing grazes between his cheeks as he maneuvers my dick at his hole. It slides in easily. I yell hoping that someone will come to my aid.

“Cain’t nobody hear ya way out here, nigger.” Willie stands over me, his dick hanging over my person.

“Nigger’s ass feels good,” says Claude.

“Ride ’im, cowboy,” Willie yells as I squirm and struggle. He presses a muddy boot into my face.

“Be still, boy.”

Claude grunts as he has his way with me. I attempt to hold my orgasm at bay, but to no avail; I shoot a load loose. His face shades red as he grits his tobacco-brown teeth, jacking his dick. He shoots off on me while Willie defaces me with cum. Claude slides off my dick, and stands next to Willie fastening his overalls. I roll over stinking of sweat, cum and manure, scared out of my head to think of what will happen next.

“Whatchu wanna do with ‘im?” Willie asks.

“Let ‘im go,” Claude replies. “We don’ had our fun.” Willie unties my binds.

All I hear are leaves being kicked asunder as they walk off into the woods.

“See ya aroun’, nigger,” Willie yells. I dress myself. My ass is sore. I make my way back to my car.

 

I turn into the back lot of Tony Gas Mart where Willie and Claude are parked.

“Fifty bucks, right?” I ask.

“Jus’ like we agreed,” Willie says.

I fish a thick wad of dough out of my pocket.

“See ya nex’ week?”

“If ya got th’ money, we got th’ time,” Claude says.

“So I can reach ya’ll at th’ same numba?”

“Anytime,” says Willie. We hauled ass turning in opposite directions down the sun-baked highway.