Jason and Amare 10

Stripped For Florida: Jason and Amare 10

* * * * *
This work is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It may contain depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to view such material or if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do not save this story.
* * * * *

JASON AND AMARE

A Stripped For Florida story in eleven parts

Part 10

* * *

Gainesville

It was a cold February day. Jason and Amaré cuddled their naked bodies against one another in the front seat, waiting for the heat to warm up the old pickup. Jim, in long slacks, flannel shirt and sweater guided the truck out of St. Augustine and onto the highway. The road ran between the flat expanses of cabbage and potato fields in towns named Spud and Hastings. Everyone was happy to be moving out of tourist Florida and into the relatively unknown wilds of the Suwannee Valley. But first they had to make a detour so Jim could take care of some business at the University of Florida in Gainesville.

"You can put a shawl on, you know," insisted Jim, "It's cold enough and stripped kids aren't supposed to die of exposure."

But the boys insisted that they were hardening themselves to the cold. "We're naked now, and it's your fault, Uncle," Jason reminded him, "But if you want us to live in the wild, we're going to learn how to do it right."

Whatever you want, thought Jim. But he admired their obstinacy. It also fit into a plan that was just in the hatchling stages in his mind.

There had been some discussion as to when "Florida-style" stripping was to end and when the "Omo-style" experience was to begin. They had finally decided that "Florida-style" had to extend until they were back in the woods. So the two boys were still decked out in equipment. The only difference was that they didn't have to take the erection pills any more. This made no difference to the length and strength of their dicks, however. The pulsing rings, penis plugs and anal beads were certainly doing the job. Jim also notice out of the corner of his eye that the boys each had a slowly stroking hand around one another's phalluses. They were certainly sweet on one another!

In Palatka the boys ran laughing from the warmth of the car into the well-heated interior of Dunkin' Donuts. Jim ordered three coffees and a dozen donuts. "Behave yourselves while I go pee," he admonished. The clerk ran a critical eye over the two boys. "He keepin' you on the pill all the time, boys? I don't care what they say, I don't think all that medication is healthy."

"No ma'am, we got this new kind of rings. They have these little nubs inside that pulse and keep you hard without any pills at all," explained Jason.

"Hmmph, what will they think of next." But she mellowed and after a bit asked, "Where'd you say you got those. That might be a good thing for my nephew. He's awfully cute and his mother wants him hard most of the time, if you know what I mean."

They gave her the name of the store in St. Augustine, thanked her for the donuts and went outside before their uncle could catch them. When he caught up they'd stacked four donuts apiece on their erect penises and were walking out to the car with exaggerated movements of their hips. "I get the ones in the box," was Jim's only remark.

Within an hour they had pulled into Gainesville, cruised down University Avenue and turned into the University of Florida. They passed the hulking stadium where the Gators play, wound past Lake Alice and parked in a garage in the area where a performance hall and two museum were located.

"I've got to go take care of some business at the Natural History Museum," explained Jim. "Are you two wanting to come in and look around, or stay out here?"

"Can we do both?" asked Jason.

"Why not. Spend as long as you like in the Museum. When you're done you need to be somewhere within the sound of my clapping so I don't have to spend hours looking for you."

The boys looked through the free sections of the museum. Their favourite exhibits were the very realistic cave, complete with wild critters (stuffed) and dripping water (real); and the Calusa Indian exhibit. They noted with satisfaction that the Calusa were as naked as they were. They were interested in the body decorations, including dyes and tattoos. "Of course they lived farther south," noted Jason.

"But the Timucuan lived here, and north where Jim and I live -- I mean, sorry, where we all three live," Amaré corrected himself with embarrassment, "and they also were naked."

"Oh, wow, then we really do have to get used to being naked all the time," Jason exclaimed.

After spending a while inside the boys headed outside. A large gathering of kids and young adults next to the fountain attracted their attention. The beat of music, clapping and chanting echoed off the buildings. Young men and women in tight white pants and tank tops were gathered in a circle. Two men stood behind tall drums and three more bare chested young men beat out an insistent rhythm on some type of tall single-stringed instrument. Everyone was clapping and chanting. The boys pushed closer and saw kids moving in pairs inside the circle, sparring and kicking, going into back flips and cartwheels. It looked halfway between dance choreography and some type of non-contact ritualized fighting. Jason and Amaré were quickly mesmerized by the African style beat and the flying movements of the participants. Two people would start at one end, clasp hands, and go into cartwheels, then start kicking, punching, stepping forward and back, sometimes standing on their hands or swiveling on their heads. They never touched. Then abruptly someone else would enter the circle and one of the contestants would step aside. Except for one very dark young man, all the young people wore the tight white pants with ropes tied around the waist. Most of the guys were bare-chested. The women wore tank tops or sports bras. The kids who who weren't stripped naked wore the same white pants with the rope belts.

"You want to try?" asked one of the tall guys next to Amaré and Jason.

"Um, we don't even know what it is," explained Jason.

"Capoeira, this is Capoeira. One of you go in, I'll show you!" The man didn't wait for an answer. He was tall and dark-skinned, bare-chested and dressed in the same low-rise, tight white pants. A purple rope was tied around his waist. He pushed Amaré in and mimed for him to move in a wide legged stance, one leg forward the other back. He moved back and forth, showing Amaré how to move in the circle. Suddenly the man did a flip in the air, landed in a handstand and stood there motionless, his eyes watching Amaré. Amaré tried to step towards him, but the man flung himself off his hands and back into a standing stance. He clapped Amaré on the back and clasped his hand. "Very good! You would make a good Capoeirista."

The man took Jason into the circle and they moved about. Jason felt awkward and unsure, but everyone clapped when he was done and the man shook his hand. "We are having a picnic here if you want to join us."

While eating the boys found out that the group practiced a Brazilian martial art called Capoeira, to the beat of drums and a tall single-stringed instrument called a berimbau. "It is fighting like dancing, dancing like fighting," explained one of the group. "Slaves in Brazil invented it so they could train to overthrow the Portuguese masters while disguising it as dancing."

"But, if it is fighting, how come you don't hit or kick?" asked Amaré.

"We want perfect control, so when we practice we stop within an inch of touching the other person," explained the boy. "If it were a real fight the kick would seriously injure someone. But capoeiristas are never supposed to fight if they can solve something peacefully."

Jason was a little self-conscious, noting that none of the stripped boys wore any type of penis implements. They were all perfectly natural, perhaps half-hard from the stimulus of athletic exertion and movement, but the boys were clearly not on the pill. There were no rings, piercings, plugs, or any of that. A few of the girls had clit rings, but no micro-gems or other more elaborate modifications or decorations. However, nobody seemed to care that he and Amaré were all done up and the group was very welcoming and friendly. When Jason saw his uncle emerge from the museum he said good-bye to the man who'd taken him into the circle and a couple of others he'd talked to. "Sorry, my uncle is waiting for us, we got to go."

"Anytime you're in town, man, come see us," called out the first man, "bring your friends, everyone is welcome!"

"What do we do now?" asked Jason as they walked to the parking garage.

"Some friends of mine are having a potluck and a dance afterwards -- I thought we could go. They say we can stay overnight. That would give us a nice early start tomorrow morning."

"A dance?" asked Jason sceptically. The only dance he'd ever been to was in middle school in New Jersey, an experience that closely resembled his idea of eternal torture.

"Probably not the image that's in your mind," replied his uncle, correctly guessing that Gainesville culture was a far cry from suburban New Jersey. "Keep an open mind, you just may have a good time."

"Maybe," mumbled Jason, shrugging.

For his part Amaré remembered great tribal gatherings, the men and boys decorated in their finest patterns, lined up and leaping high in the air, sparks flying from the fire, the great sky overhead showering pinpoints of light from a million stars.

Taking his two boys in tow, one dreaming, the other dreading, Jim opened the truck, piled everyone in and went off in search of something suitable for a vegan potluck in the woods of Gainesville.

Heading down a dark road Jim slowed and turned up a steep embankment. At first Jason thought he was lost and pulling the truck around to make a u-turn. But Jim kept driving forward into the blackness, the trees parting to reveal a very narrow drive. Branches scraped against the metal and they emerged under a great canopy of limbs. A huge live oak towered above them in the darkness. Other vehicles were parked in the darkness, bicycles, home-made biofuel contraptions, and at least one cycle-rickshaw. A lone candle barely illuminated a small sign that read, "welcome, follow the path." They made sure they had their vegan dish and started off in nearly complete darkness, the winding trail perceptible primarily by the feel of sand between the toes in contrast to the undergrowth on either side. The sound of voices and a low drumming alerted them to people up ahead.

Coming around a clump of dark bushes they were welcomed by the site of lit torches, a broad wooden stage set on concrete blocks, and a flickering row of 20 or 30 candles in tall glass containers.

"Oh, hey, you made it," welcomed a young woman in a flowing dress and bare chest, coming up to give Jim a big hug. "These must be Amaré and Jason. I'm so glad to meet you."

"This is my old friend Shar-Lene," said Jim. Jason wondered how old a friend she could be. She looked to be in her twenties. Oh, well, what do I know, he thought.

"We have food over here, help yourself. If you want to perform we have a sign up list, or you can just decide on the spur of the moment. Later we're going to do a five rhythms dance." explained Shar-Lene. "If you get tired, there's a small gazebo right near the main house. I've put out bed rolls for you three and the mosquito net just needs to be pulled down. The bathroom, kitchen, water and all are just inside the door of the house -- you remember where everything is, right?" She flashed teasing twinkling eyes at him.

"It hasn't been that long," he protested.

Jim guided Jason and Amaré to the potluck section, knowing that the shy boys would hang back. "Eat up; this is dinner!" he joked. Jason found the food surprisingly good, although he wasn't sure what all of it was. He watched the drummers sitting to the side, working up a rhythm for the gathering. People were in all manner of dress and undress, casually draping cloths over bare bodies, going topless, bottomless, nude or completely enveloped in clothes of every possible description. Evidently the Florida statutes that made a strict division between clothing and nudity were not in force here in the woods!

Soon after Jason finished his food the drummers moved up onto the stage and began playing in earnest. The sound got louder and louder and then stopped, the silence filling the forest. A young woman stood in the centre of the stage and invoked the strength of the water, the wind, the earth, and the light.

Shar-Lene came on stage. "Welcome again to everyone. I'm so glad you are all here. If you signed up to share something with us we'll call you up to the stage. If you're not on the list you can add yourself now, or you can stand by the drummers until you are called to come forward."

There followed an eclectic mix of folk songs, comedy routines, five minutes of guided yoga, a meandering stream of consciousness rumination on whales, the recitation of a recipe for raw blueberry brownies with coconut ice cream, and a beautiful trio played on mandolin, flute and ukelele. Jason found himself inexplicably drawn in to this odd array of sharing and talent, although if someone had asked him if he were interested in vegan recipes he would have definitely said no before this evening. He hadn't even know of the concept!

A middle aged man came onto the stage, dressed in a long blue robe. "Tonight we are happy to share a turning point in the life of Samuel." A boy stepped onto the stage. He was so beautiful he took Jason's breath away. Even Amaré, usually not so easily swayed, grasped Jason's hand. The boy was of medium height and build, dark hair and olive skin. There was nothing particularly remarkable in any of this -- but a liveliness and presence immediately brought everyone's attention to this 12 or 13 year old adolescent. Conversations stopped and the sound of crickets filled the still night air.

"Tonight is Samuel's 13th birthday. It is a tradition in our family to share this experience in a special way. I ask that every person present who is older than 13 and younger than 18 step forward."

Jim gave Jason and Amaré a nudge. They looked back at him questioningly. He gestured them forward. They stood up tentatively and looked around. No one else was standing.

"I see two strong and beautiful young men. Please, come up on stage. Welcome," intoned the man.

Jason and Amaré came up on stage and stood awkwardly on either side of the man and boy. "Tonight Samuel will be stripped for life. This is our tradition and his desire. Do I speak your wish, Samuel?" Without hesitation the boy spoke, "Yes."

"Do you accept the assistance of these two boys?"

"I do."

"Tell me your names, please," asked the man kindly.

"Amaré."

"Jason."

"Amaré and Jason, what special talents do you have to offer this boy?"

Amaré and Jason looked at each other blankly. Talents? Like what? Jacking off, being hard all day? What else were boys good at? Jason thought: he couldn't dance, didn't play an instrument, wasn't on a sports team, wasn't a genius at school. He didn't know what to say!

Knowing that wisdom and introspection were not exactly most boys' top talents, the old man smiled. "Not to worry. We can figure this out easily enough. You two love each other very much?"

Amaré and Jason nodded vigorously.

"What do you do together when you are outdoors in nature that makes you feel happy, close and creative?"

Pushing away the obvious, glib response Jason immediately knew the answer. He looked at Jason. They both smiled. "We draw," said Amaré.

"With clay," added Jason.

"On each other's bodies."

The man smiled, looked to someone at the side of the stage and then at Samuel. He reached over and attached the QS bandage behind the boy's left ear. He stood, waiting. Samuel removed his shirt, carefully folded it and gave it to the man. He removed his soft cotton pants; and as easily as that was completely naked. He folded the garment and handed it to the man, who walked to the side of the stage, handed the clothes to someone and reached out for a large bowl being offered by an older woman. He carried it over to the centre of the stage. It was filled with red clay. One more trip to the side of the stage and the man returned with a bowl of white clay. He nodded at the boys. "We would be honoured."

Jason was astonished. Two minutes ago Amaré and he had spoken the words and here was the clay? Did they intend for them to decorate the boy?

Amaré did not seem as perplexed. A ceremony for this boy? Of course they should do this for him. He reached a hand into the slick wet clay and smeared a broad smooth streak across Samuel's body. Jason joined in and had no more worries. Front and back, top to bottom they covered Samuel in red clay. Where the clay had hardened Jason began scratching back through it to reveal the boy's olive-coloured skin. Amaré gestured to one of the women who had handed up the bowls and asked for water. When it was provided Amaré used the wetness on his fingertips to remove dots and slashes of clay. Samuel's body was covered with subtle decoration, but now Jason and Amaré dipped into the white clay. They each placed bold lines, dots, swirls and dashes over the dry red clay. The results were dramatic, especially in the flickering light cast by candles and torches. Amaré reached up and began pulling white clay through Samuel's dark locks of hair. Samuel looked into Amaré's eyes and smiled. Amaré returned the smile, reached down and pulled gently on Samuel's penis, stretching it outwards. Holding it by the tip he stroked it from base to tip with his other hand. The organ filled with blood, thickened and hardened. Still holding the tip Amaré stroked white clay down the length of the member. He signalled Jason with his eyes; Jason reached his finger tips into the red clay and brought them into contact with Samuel's penis, drawing a lattice of bold horizontal lines across the skin.

The two artists stepped back. Samuel stood in the centre of the stage. The results were dramatic and beautiful. The drummers took up a new beat. Shar-Lene came forward and announced the beginning of the dance. "For those who have not been to one of these dances before, and as a reminder to those who have, we dance to a series of five rhythms. Tonight we are doing the entire dance without any recorded or amplified music, just the life force and heart beat of live drumming. You may dance alone, near others, in contact with others, but be respectful of everyone's energies and space. This is a time to let your mind flow naturally and not be too attached to any type of program. Let loose, enjoy."

People wandered up onto the stage in twos and threes and fours and began moving and swaying to the music. As the rhythm changed people rolled on the ground, let their arms swing wildly, lifted their legs high in the air, spinning and turning. The beat became slow -- almost sad. The dancers moved off into corners, curled into tight shapes or splayed themselves across the ground. Suddenly the drums picked up a wild, rollicking beat from a fiesta somewhere and the dancers were on their feet, joyfully pounding out rhythms on the wooden stage. The final round brought the energy down a bit. No longer in full party mood, the beats cast a net of energy through the assembled people, weaving good feeling and gentle happiness among the gathering.

Amaré, Jason and Samuel finished in a circle dance of their own. Energized from the dancing the three boys were wide awake and eager to do something. Spotting the bowls of clay at the side of the stage Samuel impulsively put a hand in each colour and splayed clay down the front of each of his new friends -- a streak of white down Amaré's body and a swath of red clay across the front of Jason's. The boys laughed and launched into a full-fledged clay decorating party. Fronts and backs, nipples, faces, careful attention to penis decorating, buttocks. Boyish laugher rang through the forest.

Jason was glad to be talking, laughing and playing with this new friend and with Amaré. It had been a little serious during the ceremony, and he had the feeling during the dance that they weren't supposed to talk.

"Was that your father?" asked Jason, "The man that invited us on stage -- he's . . . "

"A bit serious. No, that's my godfather. He's really into ceremonies, can get a little too into it. But he's all right. He cares and he's very generous."

"Are you really stripped for life?" asked Amaré. "It is expensive, right?"

"My godfather wrote a computer program, way back when, that made a lot of money. He's the one that paid for it," explained Samuel.

"Is that what you wanted? I mean to be stripped for life?" asked Jason.

"Yes, oh yes. I never want to wear clothes again." Samuel said this with absolute certainty.

"I can understand that!" Jason said, "but if you hate clothes so much, how come you weren't stripped when you were younger?"

"I've been hanging out all my life in places where people -- kids, adults, any age -- go naked. At home I never wear clothes. So it hasn't really been that bad. Besides, this is a tradition in my family." explained the clay-covered boy.

"I didn't mean to be critical. After all, Amaré and I are 15 and we only just got stripped," said Jason. "Although Amaré's been naked a whole lot more than me."

Samuel looked at Amaré inquiringly.

"In my first home, Omo, in Ethiopia," Amaré answered Samuel's unspoken question.

"Is that where you learned to decorate bodies like this?" Samuel's eyes shone.

"Yes, it is for people who are your brothers. You are my brother now!"

"I think brother is a bigger word than the way we use it here," explained Jason, putting into words for the first time a thought that he'd been trying to piece together. "Like, well . . . well I'm just going to say it. At first I thought if Amaré and I were brothers then, well, that we could not love each other the other way, too." Jason looked flustered and looked to Amaré for confirmation.

"Brother means we belong to the same people. I will do anything for the life of my brothers," stated Amaré. It seemed simple to him.

"Where I grew up -- in New Jersey -- my friends and classmates always teased me about being gay." Jason had his head downcast and spoke quietly. "When I met Amaré I felt like he didn't care if I was -- that it was all right. Then we were in the river decorating one another with the clay, putting it all over our bodies, stretching out our dicks, like we did with you -- like we were doing to each other just a few minutes ago. I was in heaven."

"Then I said this word 'brother' and Jason ran away and scared me almost as much as when I lost all my first people," explained Amaré.

Samuel followed this exchange of explanations. Surprisingly he did not seem as upset or confused as Jason thought he might be.

"Look, I'm sorry, we just met you and we're dumping all this crap. We should be partying." apologized Jason.

"You are lovers!" exclaimed Samuel. "That's beautiful. I'm so glad to know both of you. The way you came on stage, you moved like different parts of the same animal. You celebrated with me as if we were all in a dance. I could tell from your movements that you were passing thoughts back and forth between one another soundlessly, effortlessly. Myself, I don't wear jewelry or have any body modifications, but I love it that you match, gold and silver, on your ears, on your penises, I just knew you were lovers!!! I know we're going to be great friends."

"You don't mind the decorations we did tonight . . . ?" Amaré asked with a worried tone.

"Oh, no, it is perfect! I love them!!! Tell you what -- let's go for a walk! I know my way through these woods blindfolded. There's a beautiful spot I want to show you."

"Okay!" agreed Jason, "Let me just go check with my uncle."

Walking naked through the dark wasn't as scary as Jason thought it might be. Probably because Samuel knows where he's going, he thought. He figured he'd be lost in no time, probably stuck in a pile of bramble bushes, too. Jason ruefully remembered his experience last year in Florida. He had been so stupid to go off with a gang of boys he knew nothing about, sneak into a club and then go home with some old guy. To think he'd done it all because he thought Amaré just wanted to be his brother. He'd learned a lot since then. Amaré told him that Omo boys were used to being naked, decorating one another, splashing in the river, touching bodies all over, and being very close. It was different between boys and girls. Jason got the impression that boys could be close and girls could be close, but that marriage and sex between a man and a woman was a very big deal that happened when you were much older. Still, Amaré had somehow managed to convey the idea that even between boys, sex was something very special and that it wasn't something to rush into too quickly. Jason felt very special about Amaré, but realized he still had a more American attitude: no matter how conservative or prudish, Americans were in a hurry to have sex. Experiencing the Florida-style stripping this last week was confirmation that families from all over America were eager to bring their kids to Florida on vacation, not just to strip them naked, but to sexualize them. He looked down at himself and realized he couldn't see a thing in the dark. Here he was rigged up with vibrating penis ring, a shaft stuck three inches into his penis with another ring on the crown, and vibrating silicone balls up his anus. He thought of all the boys on the pills for weeks and years at a time, permanent piercings of their nipples and penises. His uncle said that over half the girls who came to Florida on vacation each year got a clit ring, and he was sure that was just for starters. The family that had been in the shop with them in St. Augustine had apparently already started having nightly vibrator sessions, and possibly more sexual activities than that. Jason stumbled into the back of Amaré. "Sorry, I didn't realize you'd stopped," he apologized.

Samuel, up ahead, had stopped first. "Okay, you guys, come through here." Amaré and Jason stepped carefully behind Samuel, not knowing what to expect. Indeed, at first Jason didn't know what he was looking at. Out of the total darkness emerged tiny flashes of yellowish light illuminating a deep turquoise blue.

"I love this place -- hardly anyone knows its here," Samuel told them in a soft voice. Swarms of flashing yellow lights lit up a blueness that sparkled like liquid glass. "It's a tiny little spring!" said Samuel, evidently worried that they didn't appreciate it.

"Oh, but what are the lights?" asked Amaré.

"Fireflies."

"What? Flies, fire?"

"Sorry," said Samuel, "they are tiny little bugs that light up. They come here for the water!"

It was magical. Samuel was right. The spring pool was about the size of a large room and would have been dark on this overcast night except for the swarms of fireflies. "Come on," yelled Samuel and jumped in. Jason and Amaré followed. The water was cool, but not bad once they were submerged; and soft -- more liquid than regular water was the only way Jason could describe it. Jason let himself float naked in the water watching fireflies dance above his eyes. It was like fairyland. Fairyland for a fairy, he thought.

After the boys had enjoyed the water for some time they swam to the side and huddled against one another on the bank trying to get warm through their combined body heat.

"All the clay is washed off now," noted Jason.

"It was beautiful -- too bad I didn't take a photo," thought Samuel. "I always think memories are better than photos, but maybe just this once."

"We will do it again," announced Amaré. "Come visit us sometime."

"Where do you live?" asked Samuel, curious now.

"On the Suwannee River. I think it is farther north from here," explained Amaré. "Jim, he has a trailer there."

"A doublewide?" inquired Samuel.

"Just a travel trailer," said Jason, "but it's really cool. And we can go camping out on the river. There's lots of clay and we can decorate one another every day."

"Nice!" exclaimed Samuel. "That sounds like my kind of style."

"You like the all natural life, don't you?" asked Jason.

"I do," agreed Samuel, "keeping it simple."

"You know," said Jason, "when I arrived in Florida this time -- just a week ago, actually -- my uncle said he'd strip the two of us. For one week we'd have the Florida strip experience; and then for one week the Omo experience. Omo, that's the place where Amaré is from . . . "

"I remember. Amaré was telling me," said Samuel.

"We were discussing when the Florida experience should stop and the Omo experience begin. We thought the Omo couldn't really begin until we were in the forest. But, you know what?"

"Hmmm?"

"St. Augustine was the Florida experience."

"You mean the tourist experience?" asked Samuel.

"I guess that's it. What do they call it? The SFF deal. Get stripped on the spot in front of the poster of the blonde twins, go to a tattoo parlour, get your body shaved, all that."

Samuel laughed, "That's SFF for sure. We don't have many tourists in Gainesville."

"Yeah, well we got shaved. Amaré and I got these three inch metal things put into our dicks, we're wearing these pulsing rings that keep us hard all the time . . ."

"What?" interjected Samuel, "I don't know about those!"

"You should try one!" laughed Amaré. He started working the ring off his dick.

"We're lucky we can even take them off," said Jason. He told Samuel how they'd seen a boy get one put on that was impossible to remove without surgery. "Yes," he insisted, "they told his parents he'd be erect until they got it cut off. His folks are planning to keep it on him until he turns 21, I think."

Amaré handed the ring to Samuel. "Try it."

Samuel pulled his penis out by the tip and slipped the ring on, sliding it up until it was positioned at the base. He could feel the tiny bearings pulsing around his dick.

"Wow, weird. Oh man! You've been wearing these for a week?"

Amaré and Jason nodded.

"We were planning to take all this stuff off when we get out to the place where we live with Jim, and when we're out on the river. You know, just be Omo -- decorated bodies, decorating our penises with our hands, getting hard the usual way." Jason threw back his head and laughed. "But something happened to our plans. Look where we are!"

"In the woods by my favourite spring?" asked Samuel. He noticed his erection starting to harden up.

"Exactly. Amaré, myself, now even you -- we're wearing the SFF stuff. But, we also decorated you with clay and walked through the forest in the night and now we're beside a magical spring. We combined the experiences. The Florida SFF and the OMO overlapped here in Gainesville."

"It works all right -- god, I'm hard already. Feel." Samuel bobbed his erection against the legs of the two boys who were standing skin to skin with him in the dark. "You know," observed Samuel, "you're right in a way, about the overlap. That's totally Gainesville!"

End Part 10

Reader comments are always appreciated: williebflorida@gmail.com

(The End)