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Archer

"Dixon was the epitome of masculinity and dexterity…"

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When I was seventeen-years-old my dad was transferred to a small town. At the company he worked for dad was renowned as ‘the repairer.’ The retail department store chain that my father was employed at was very successful and had over one hundred stores in various towns and cities. Dad was famous for sorting out problems in stores that were on the decline and then restoring them to their former glory. Needless to say, we often moved from place to place and very seldom lived anywhere for more than a year. Our family was used to this phenomenon and we always took it in our stride. All the moves we paid for by my dad’s company and they always arranged excellent accommodation for us.

The store where my dad was seconded to, on this occasion, serviced a small town that had a large outlying rural community. Although it had once been one of the top stores in the group, in recent times business had slumped. It was, therefore, my father’s responsibility to analyze the dwindling fortunes of the store and see if he could improve matters.

The new school that I attended in this town provided me with quite a challenge and being a city boy, I stuck out like a sore thumb. My clothing was a little too fashionable and the highlights in my blond hair, subtle as they were, caused a great deal of comment, especially from the other guys. One hefty individual named Roger was particularly derisive about my looks. Although his ribbing was initially verbal, it shortly took on a physical dimension. Slight as I was, I was certainly no match for him.

During break time at school one day, Roger and two of his equally disgusting buddies, cornered me for a roughing up. As they began shoving and pushing me around, out of the corner of my eye I saw a really well-built guy named Dixon approaching us. Dixon was a sturdy eighteen-year-old farm boy who mainly kept to himself. Unengaging as he was, nevertheless, it was widely acknowledged that one simply didn’t mess with him.

“Have you guys got a problem, Roger?” Dixon asked as he arrived alongside us.

“No,” Roger replied, as the usual snarl rapidly evaporated from his face. “I was just having a chat with pretty-boy.”

“It didn’t look like a chat to me,” Dixon replied while running the back of his hand to and fro across the bottom of his nose. Dixon then also widened his stance in an aggressive manner.

“I don’t like you, Roger. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to fuck you up. If you or your buddies ever mess with Wren again, or even walk in the same passage as him, well… then I’ll be having a chat with you. Are we clear on this?” Dixon menacingly warned.

Sheepishly, Roger and his cronies left with their tails between their legs. I was amazed that Dixon even knew my name.

As they scuttled away, Dixon turned to me and said, “I hate that fat fucker.” Then, turning his attention to me he inquired, “Are you okay, Wren?”

“Yes… thanks,” I responded.

Smiling, Dixon then asked, “Would you like a sandwich?”

“Actually, I have my own food, but thank you,” I answered.

“Yeah… but I’ll bet it’s nothing like one of my mom’s sandwiches,” he answered, with a self-confident grin.

Next, he suggested, “Let’s take a seat over there,” as his eyes indicated that we should head off to a bench nearby.

After we were seated, Dixon opened a container with three large sandwiches that were cut into halves. After removing one of the halves, he handed it to me. I had never seen a sandwich so stuffed with beef. Not wanting to be rude and especially after what Dixon had just done for me, I took a bite. It was totally delicious. The homemade sweet mustard on it was incredible. Dixon then told me that his mom always insisted on making three sandwiches for him, although he only ever managed to eat two of them.

As we munched and chatted, Dixon told me that his dad owned a very large farm in the area. He also went on to say that his older brother was already working on the farm. In addition, he proudly mentioned that when he graduated from the school in eight months’ time, he would also be joining them on the farm.

Thereafter, our initial encounter turned into a daily routine and we became good friends. The sandwiches his mom made were always scrumptious and Dixon was very pleased that he had someone to share them with. I particularly loved the peanut butter and bacon sandwiches his mom made, a combination I would formerly never have dreamed of.

I also learned about Dixon’s passion for archery during our get-togethers. On their vast property, they had a large woodland area where at least once a month, Dixon would spend a Friday and Saturday night camping out in his tent. He always took his bow and arrows along on these outings and apart from practicing his skill, Dixon would also hunt for fowl, geese, and rabbits.

I imagined that if the entire world’s population were wiped out and I was left alone on earth with one other person, the person I would choose would be Dixon. One just knew that he was one of the most self-sufficient humans alive. I know that you must be thinking why I wouldn’t choose a family member, but this being a fantasy about survival, just like me, none of my family members would be worth a dime.

As we ate our sandwiches one morning at school, Dixon asked me if I would like to join him on one of his outings that weekend. Although I wasn’t really into roughing it, I simply couldn’t refuse. Dixon promised me that he would only expose me one night of roughing it in the outdoors and resultantly, we would spend the Friday night in his bedroom and only camp out on Saturday.

On the Friday evening that I arrived at Dixon’s home for the weekend, his mother had made the most incredible stew. After dinner, unlike the custom in their home, I offered to assist his to mother clear the table and help wash the dishes. As the other three men at the table gawked at me in disbelief, I got up to assist Dixon’s mother in the kitchen. The three men then continued chatting. To be exact, Dixon’s dad and brother did most of the talking.

In whispered tones in the kitchen, Dixon’s mother spoke to me as we went about our business. Their family had all believed that Dixon may have had Asperger’s syndrome a few years earlier, because of his social ineptitude. This, however, was not the case and Dixon was simply an introvert. She couldn’t thank me enough for befriending him. According to her, Dixon had really come out of his shell since meeting me. Frankly, I told her that I really enjoyed his company and considered him a really great friend.

By the time Dixon’s mom and I returned to the table, the men had an arm wrestling contest on the go. What astonished me was how easily Dixon overpowered his father and brother. They were simply no match for him.

Although I am sure that the two men of Dixon’s family had not viewed me as ‘normal’ initially, when I related the amusing incident at school with Roger, it was as if the ice had been broken.

After Dixon’s mother announced that she was heading off to bed and did so, his dad looked at me and asked, “Wren, would you like to be initiated in country luxury?”

I had no idea what he was talking about and simply shrugged quizzically.

“Shall we show him, boys?” he then asked.

Both Doug, Dixon’s brother, and Dixon nodded enthusiastically.

“Doug, why don’t you get the generator going,” Ken, Dixon’s dad, then suggested.

Twenty minutes later, when we moved outside and approached a wooden construction, I was still none the wiser about the surprise that awaited me.

Inside the wooden structure there was a narrow rectangular entrance with a shower to the left, and numerous pegs to the right. When all the men commenced stripping, I simply followed suit. At this point, I was becoming rather nervous because all the men were ultra-masculine and good-looking. All I could think about was how I was going restrain myself from popping a boner. Once we were all naked, my eyes spun in my head as I observed the three most impressive uncut dicks I had ever seen. These guys were really well-endowed!

Once inside the adjoining steam room, after we were seated, to my dismay the trio sat wide legged with their jewels unabashedly on display. I thought I had died and arrived in butch heaven. Doug also had the habit of continuously groping his package.

“Jesus, Doug, leave that ugly thing of yours alone for a fucking minute,” Ken eventually said.

“Jeez, pop, give me a break already,” Doug replied with a snigger.

My hand ached as I watched this display, wishing that I could help Doug out.

After forty minutes of ‘torture,’ my ordeal finally ended when we all moved next door and rinsed off under the shower.

When Dixon and I arrived in his bedroom, a new dilemma unfolded. He insisted that I sleep in his bed with him in a sleeping bag on the floor.

“I can’t do that,” I protested, “This is your bed.”

“You’re the guest,” he insisted, before resuming, “And as this is my room, I call the shots.”

Defeated, I lay in his bed as instructed. The smell of the linen was heavenly as I made myself comfortable and without much further ado, I was soon sound asleep.

Unbenownst to me, with farmers, the activity in the household got going by six o’clock in the morning. When I was finally awoken at seven-fifteen, the truck that Dixon and I would be using was fully stocked with all we would need for our adventure, and all I had to do was sit down to breakfast.

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It was as one would expect, a very substantial and hearty breakfast. I did my very best but no match for the three farmers and by eight o’clock; Dixon and I were on our way.

When we arrived at our location twenty minutes later, our tent was set up in no time at all. The adroitness that Dixon displayed as this all happened was mesmerizing. Once our campsite was finished to his satisfaction, we went on a fauna and flora meander in the area. I was very impressed by his general knowledge but even more blown away by how easily he communicated with me. Dixon identified numerous plants and every bird that we encountered. I was instructed to focus the binoculars all about me, as he identified every one of the birds.

By noon, Dixon produced his bow and arrows for a show that left me speechless. Moving with the grace and poise of a feline, Dixon transported me in the mystical Sherwood Forest for an archery extravaganza. Dixon invited me to point out numerous targets that he located with bullseye accuracy. Truthfully, I was rather relieved that we hadn’t brought any apples on our outing.

When Dixon was done, he invited me to try my hand with the bow and arrow. Unsurprisingly, my first several attempts were pathetic. I had no idea how much strength was needed to master this skill. Ultimately, Dixon took pity on me and decided to coach me in this dexterity. For the next thirty minutes, I was treated to a hands-on tutorial as Dixon encased my body to teach me the finer skills of archery.

Enveloped by his masculine frame, the thrill I felt as he clamped onto me for my lesson was awe-inspiring in the most sensual fashion. With his head next to mine as we stood ear to ear, I practically wet my pants. What excited me most was the manner his cheek rubbed against mine as he purred his instructions. With his crotch clamped to my backside as he did so, I couldn’t believe that my knees did not collapse below me.

Finally, I magically hit a target to my great dismay. What happened next, however, pleased the hell out of me as I received a sustained hug from him.

When we eventually sat down to a cup of coffee, Dixon produced a surprise container of his mother’s famous sandwiches.

After our lunch break, Dixon took me on another informative excursion. An hour later, he announced that it was time to hunt for our dinner. This was something I really wasn’t looking forward to, but I nonetheless accompanied him. Upon shooting the rabbit for our dinner, we returned to our campsite.

I could clearly tell that Dixon was aware of my queasiness and I was very pleased by his consideration in this regard. After placing the rabbit out of sight, we got the fire going. Once the fire was on the go, I commenced browning the onions, which his mother had prepared for us. He then headed off to disembowel and skin the bunny. Twenty minutes later the cut pieces of the rabbit were placed in the pot.

As our stew began to simmer after all the ingredients had been added, we sat quietly sipping our beers. Silence did not trouble Dixon at all and I was totally in awe of his oneness with nature. Respectfully, I also kept my mouth shut, which was a rarity for me.

A couple of hours later when the rabbit was done, Dixon told me that if I didn’t like it, he wouldn’t be offended. He also reminded me that there were still sandwiches left that his mother had prepared for us, so I wouldn’t go hungry.

I was up for the challenge of trying a dish I had never before eaten and told him so. As we tucked in, I was amazed by the taste. It tasted a lot like chicken to me. As we consumed our meal with me complimenting him about the incredible flavour, Dixon looked as pleased as a teacher who had just taught a kid to overcome one of his fears.

After dinner, we again sat contentedly and sipped another beer. By now it had become unseasonably chilly and soon, Dixon suggested that we enter our tent. Once inside, he suggested that we zip our sleeping bags together so that our combined body heat could ensure a warm night’s sleep. The suggestion both thrilled me, but also made me a little nervous. Sharing a bed with a straight guy had me worrying that I might suffer a rebuke if I inadvertently ended up clutching onto him during the night.

As we initially lay on our backs side by side, Dixon was a lot more verbal than ever before. I also realized for the first time what a great sense of humour Dixon had, as he regaled me with stories about how ditsy and clumsy his older brother, Doug, was. I laughed until my stomach ached. When our interaction finally ended, I turned to face away from Dixon. Moments later, I felt Dixon’s torso up against my back.

“Fuck, it's cold, buddy,” he then said, as I felt his warm breath against my neck. “Do you mind if I cuddle up next to you?”

Totally bewildered, I uttered a murmur of consent before his arm moved over me and pulled me toward his torso. In the following few moments, Dixon also moved his hips forward and next to my backside. I could’ve sworn that I could feel his hardness nestling against my arse, but I was too stunned to imagine this to be the case.

“Did you really enjoy your day?” Dixon then whispered.

“Yeah, very much,” I mumbled, completely thrown by what was happening.

“Me too,” he said softly, before resuming, “I really like you, Wren.”

“I really like you too,” I echoed.

“Do you mind… if… I kiss you,” he stammered, seductively.

“No, I don’t mind,” I faintly responded.

His hand that had been on my chest then moved upward and touched my cheek, before turning my head to face him, before his lips covered my mouth.

I was completely entranced by this turn of events and would never have guessed that this could happen. Much as I had lusted after Dixon, in my mind he was a straight guy. The tenderness of his kissing, however, totally overwhelmed me. Over the following few minutes, my body was coaxed onto my back before Dixon moved on top of me. As he continued kissing me he simultaneously commenced grinding my crotch with his rigid dick.

Before long, Dixon suggested that we remove the union suits that we both were wearing. Naturally, I didn’t protest. Once we were both naked we embarked on an extensive ‘sword fight,’ as our dicks battled for supremacy. Needless to say, I was totally ‘outmanned.’

As Dixon literally commenced bouncing above me, it soon became clear from his excited breathing that he was fast approaching his climax.

“Fuck, Jesus, oh… Jesus… I am going to cum,” he ultimately exulted.

“Oh, fuck, buddy, I’m sorry, I just came all over you,” Dixon contritely confessed.

“I don’t mind,” I retorted.

“Are you sure?” he asked me, disbelieving.

“Sure,” I answered, before explaining, “That was great.”

“Really?” he apprehensively asked.

“Yeah, I really enjoyed that,” I replied.

“Jeez, you’ve got my spunk all over you,” Dixon apologetically said.

“Well, rub it into my stomach,” I suggested.

“Are you sure?” he once again reiterated.

“Sure,” I once more replied.

After lifting onto his knees, Dixon massaged his jizz into my stomach. Thereafter, I took hold of his right hand and started licking the residue off his fingers. When his left hand followed, he disbelievingly asked, “Do you like the taste?”

“It’s fuckin’ awesome,” I replied.

“Do you really like the taste of my jizz,” he asked, incredulously.

“Yeah,” I answered.

With a snigger, Dixon then said, “Well, would you like me to cum in your mouth?”

“Anytime,” I countered, with a chuckle.

Once Dixon had again lowered himself onto my body, our second ‘sword fight’ was shortly underway. Several minutes later when he was about to ejaculate again, however, he scuttled up my body and placed the head of his cock at my lips. Happily, I feasted on his spunk as it spewed from his knob.

Although I had not orgasmed myself, I was in seventh heaven after the proceedings of the evening because my non-existent expectations had been exceeded by lightyears. As we finally drifted off to sleep in one another’s arms, I was happier than I had ever been.

When I awoke the following morning, Dixon was not in the tent. This did not surprise because he was after all a farm boy. When I did finally emerge from the tent he had made coffee for the two of us. We then consumed the remaining sandwiches that his mother had made the previous day. As we ate, Dixon told me that he had been hunting and shot two more rabbits. I was then informed that his mom made the best rabbit pies that one would ever eat.

Later that morning, after another archery display and lesson, we returned to Dixon’s home for their weekly Sunday lunch. The food his mother prepared was spectacular. Late that afternoon when I was dropped off at home, Dixon’s mother sent my parents a rabbit pie. Although my parents were not exactly overjoyed by the gift, when they apprehensively tasted it during the following week they became totally addicted to the taste.

Over the following several months, I spent at least one weekend per month on Dixon’s parent’s farm. With each visit, Dixon and my sexual boundaries were expanded and I am proud to confess, that he finally took my cherry. This would always remain one of my most endearing memories.

After my final year ended and when my parents were once more transferred to another location, I headed off to college. Sadly, I never saw Dixon again.

 

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Written by Tuppie
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