Bareback Mountain

An eBook By Frank Sol.

Clint loved to sneak into his parents' room when they were away from the house and look at himself naked in front of the full-length mirror, drawing his arms into muscles and thrashing his waist around looking at his hard rod. He did have a nice-sized rod – one day last spring he had measured it and it came out to be exactly seven and one-half inches. He also had a nice patch of hair around it too. "God, I'm such a stud," he would say every time he felt up his meat and shuddered with pleasure.

That day, he'd gotten up early and let the horses out into the pasture, fed the chickens, and decided not to bother watering the vegetable garden as the sky was threatening rain. He felt good inside. He was thinking about his next-door neighbour Jason, whom he had known since both were just boys.

He went into his room, pulled off his dusty brown boots, and his white socks. He eased out of his black t-shirt and tossed it carelessly onto the bed. His right hand went to his left nipple; it was standing hard. It felt good to play with it. Oh this feels so cool, he thought. He played with it for a moment, then slid out of his faded 501's. "Shit," he said, "I'm not wearing anything but cut-offs for the rest of the summer." He was down to his jockey shorts now. Laying his jeans on his bed, he slid his hand under the waistband of his underwear.

He went into his parents' room and looked at himself in the mirror. Sometimes Clint wore underwear, sometimes not; he didn't like to wear it, but he did like the way it looked and he knew that it was usually the last thing that most guys had on, that after they took that off he could see everything they had. He also found that when he was younger it made him hot to think of the other boys running around in underwear and then stripping out of it to nothing.

Clint stood about five seven. He wasn't super tall but he thought that he might have a few more years to get a couple more inches on his frame – his grandpa had told him that he had been short and not gained his full height until his early twenties. He had a very youthful looking face, of course, and still didn't have to worry about shaving to often.

Clint stood looking at himself in the mirror. He did have some hair on his legs, some thick dark hair which he loved to look at and feel. He ran his hands over it now. "Oh, you stud," he said out loud. "I'd love to fuck your brains out and suck your cock while I was doing it." Again he ran his hands under the band of his underwear. His cock was now very stiff, and he could look in the mirror and see the head of it and the piss slit through the thin cloth of the old underwear. He had worn this pair quite a few times, and the cotton was very nearly transparent. As his rod stiffened, it really stuck out in front and caused the leg bands of it to also protrude in front. This brought some of his crotch hair into plain view. He ran his hands now over his hairless chest, down and encircled his also hairless navel. "You sexy little stud," he said. "I want your body!"

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