Peaks was your usual midwestern industrial town, although a bit larger than most. The summers of my youth were always the best times, accompanied by my small tribe of friends. Cicadas would call indefinitely, the trees whispering as we romped around those places in your hometown that one might overlook entirely, unless they were yours, and you had to find entertainment in them. We didn’t have a movie theater in town, and none of my buddies had a car for us to venture over to neighboring White Oaks for a night out.

So we biked around, a small portable radio and a shared stash of pot our main sources of fun. I wasn’t the most popular kid at our small local high school, only one of our five friends was someone you would call “in with the cool kids." Keller had risen to some level of social stature through his involvement in our school’s baseball team, but he still hung out with us all the time. He was a good guy, and so were the rest of them. Altogether it was Keller, James - we called him Jamie, as did everyone else - Brandon, Paul and myself. We were those friends that met piecemeal in middle school and stuck together all the way through high school, and we stayed close even after that fateful summer.

It was July, and the heat was there to stay at that point. We finally crossed that threshold into adulthood, and had decided that our way was the best way for just about everything by then. There’s something kind of beautiful about being so young, so untested but still so sure of yourself. We had gotten over the usual pecking order complex that afflicts so many eighteen-year-olds in school, and had found ourselves a nice niche. We were welcome at all the summer parties and events, got along with just about all of our peers in Peaks.

Jamie got word of some shindig in the woods one weekend, out by the old water processing plant. Apparently, Jordan Menler was throwing it, and that guy knew how to party. His near-permanent state of inebriation and easy-going, pseudo-hippy attitude made him a great host for events, even though he was what you might call a “burn-out." If Jordan was making it happen, then we wanted to be there. All of the movers and shakers of our age would be around, and Jordan’s college-going brother Max often showed up, a gaggle of friends from the local state university in tow.

As a matter of course, we whiled away the afternoon on the day of the party in Brandon’s garage. His father was kind of a bigshot, and had renovated the place to be his fortress of solitude some years before. As his dad was often away on business trips, Brandon and the rest of us had taken it over, making it our air-conditioned hangout during the summer months. We had installed a few additions, one of them being a little garden gnome we had stolen from someone’s yard two summers back. The gnome had broken briefly afterward, as Keller had dropped it from his bike rack as we raced away from the scene of the crime. Paul and I pieced it back together and realized that it would act swimmingly as a place for our stash.

Brandon rolled up a nice joint while we each drank a beer from the ever-stocked minifridge, and we shot the shit.

“Hey man, you think Noelle will be there?”

Keller had met Noelle at another one of Jordan Menler’s parties several months before. She was a real looker, and college-aged at that. She had come with Jordan’s older brother, and after hitting it off by the keg, had danced with Keller for a whole hour. He had been obsessed ever since, constantly mentioning his college bride-to-be, bringing up how she had slipped him a quick kiss after their dance.

“Naaaah,” said Brandon from his position by the table, joint paper in hand, “she’s probably off nailin’ some twenty-year-old at school, dude.”

“Ahh fuck you,” Keller shot back before taking a hefty gulp of his beer, “she’s coming back for me.” He was quiet, then.

“Forget about Noelle, Heidi’s got the hots for you. And she’s available,” Paul cooed, wiggling his eyebrows at Keller suggestively, “from what I heard, very available.”

This was one of Paul’s special abilities that none of the rest of us ever quite understood. Somehow, he could always get the scoop from the local group of girls. Whether it was about who was keen on who, where the party was going to happen, or often just tidbits of information about people that seemed to have no importance. He liked to say he had a way with women.

Keller openly guffawed at that, “Heidi Greenfield? You’re kidding.”

“I’m not yanking your chain, man. Brenda told me. Apparently, she finally got word that you liked her from six months ago. Brenda said she wants to fuck your brains out, too. Keep that last part under wraps though, I don’t want my sources compromised.”

“Brenda wants to bang me?” Keller's eyes had gone wide, like a dog caught with a ripped up shoe by its feet.

“No, you dumbass. Don’t go getting a big head. Heidi wants to. You should do it.”

Keller, ever wanting what he couldn’t have, had finally had the object of his affections supposedly dropped into his lap. His obsession with Heidi Greenfield had been an ongoing affair for almost three years, but she had always had a boyfriend. He looked positively devastated, and finished the second half of his beer in one long draught.

I had one of those picturesque memory moments then, watching Keller begin to prematurely sabotage his chances at getting laid before they had even been fully explored. Later, I’ll be a full-on adult and stuff like this won’t feel so important, I thought. I took in my friends, chatting and sipping as we had always done, and had an instant of profound sadness. We hadn’t been too long out of high school, but this felt like an ending of some sort.

Brandon had finished his ministrations on the doobie, and we smoked. It was my inaugural summer of smoking pot, and it still made me loopy every time. My head felt as though it was a great big balloon, inflating and bobbing around. As I sipped conservatively on my beer, my mind wandered. First I thought of the party, how fun it would be, whether or not I would see Keller mac on Heidi Greenfield. Then I thought of Heidi’s friend Irina, on whom I had an enormous crush.

Irina Sommers was a quiet girl, although one year my senior. She had already graduated, and I felt as though I had lost my chance with her. We had chatted on several occasions, often flirtatiously, but it was hard to tell where her interests lay. I simply admired her from afar, too shy to make advances on a girl older than me. I had given up on other girls in my grade throughout my period of longing, simply deciding to hold out a bit longer since she was around for the summer. Maybe I would see her that night.

As I thought about Irina, my libido decided to throw its hat in the ring. I pictured her olive-colored skin, tanned from the summer sun. I saw her staring at me with lustful eyes, lowering panties the color of which I couldn’t even fathom, I was too focused on seeing what was beneath them in my mind’s eye. She would be shaved, I decided, ready for me. Just as I was about to dive into that mysterious, delightful place between her legs, I was ripped from my reverie by a flash of pain.

“You alright, brother?” Jamie laughed, and I realized he had just flicked the tip of my cock through my thin athletic shorts.

“Ohh you asshole,” I moaned through clenched teeth, “why?”

Everyone laughed, and I realized why. I had been sporting a very visible erection as I daydreamed about Irina, and my shorts did no job of hiding it. Embarrassed, I crossed my legs and reached for my beer. In my awkwardness, I missed it, and spilled it onto the red checkered linoleum of the garage floor. We all laughed, then, and finished our joint before getting ready for the party.

Flashes of memory follow, now.

Laughing, riding my bike with no hands because they were holding two open beers, listening to some rock song from the radio on Jamie’s bike rack.

Staring down at my knees, scraped and bloody, I had fallen. My beers were empty. But that was because I had finished them, right? There was no dark patch of wetness in the dirt where they had fallen, so I must have.

Laughing again, this time so hard I could barely breathe.

Arriving near the processing plant, exiting the dirt road and throwing our bikes in between some bushes. Realizing we were in the wrong place, peering through the trees in low dusk light, searching for signs of life, of a bonfire, of the party to come.

Things come into focus now, as I realized that it was almost dark, and we were not any closer to finding the festivities. My right knee hurt, but not badly. Maybe it would have been worse if I wasn’t so tipsy. I kept having funny little thoughts occur to me, and I would giggle out at nothing. No one seemed to find it odd, so I didn’t stop myself from enjoying the moment.

We were eventually saved from our wanderings by a gang of local friends. It must have been ten or more of them, although I can only clearly recall one: Irina. She was right at the front, holding a big flashlight down by her waist, peering out at my little entourage from under one hand, as though she were going to see further in the low light.

“Who’s that?” Someone asked from the depths of her group.

“Ahoy!” Keller’s boisterous tone gave him away at once, and someone shouted back.

So our group became bigger, and we all surged bravely forward into the darkened woods, numbers eliminating any fear we might have. I stayed tucked away with my friends, suddenly feeling a strong desire to just shut up and find the party before my loopy brain had me saying something dumb. I succeeded, and resigned myself to staring at the asses of the girls in front of me, Irina’s included. My cock stirred in my pants again, and I shoved my hands in my pockets to create space and keep any reactions from being visible.

Our ragtag search party found Jordan Menler’s get-together in full swing some time later, deep in the woods by the plant. They had set up a perimeter of tiki torches, and there was even a small card table with a big bucket of ice, beers gleaming out like gems with the torchlight reflected upon their surfaces. I was delighted to have something to do right away, and hurried forwards to grab myself a refreshment. My mouth had never felt so dry.

From here I can only say so much, as my memories get a little foggy once more.

I made the usual rounds, first making sure to thank Jordan for always throwing such rad parties. He beamed at me through the ragged tangle of his long hair, saying some appeasing host phrase and meandering off to socialize more.

I remember seeing Jamie and Paul, the two of them producing another joint from the depths of Jamie’s backpack, which drew a small crowd of eager party-goers. Jamie played it cool, smoothing the length of his brown curls behind his ears and saying loudly, “No worries, guys, there’s plenty.”

I remember stumbling over someone’s legs, then looking down to see two underclassmen making out brazenly at the foot of a large oak tree. I mumbled an apology, then made my way back towards the beer bucket.

As my buzz continued to grow into a full-on drunken state, the minor anxieties of being at a party wore off. I chatted freely with people around me, about what I couldn’t tell you. Things sort of melted off here, my night becoming a flickering haze of smiles, libations and general good times. I thought to myself stupidly, now this is a Menler party, and laughed heartily.

Suddenly, I was standing just beyond the light of the torches. Irina Sommers was with me, but I can’t remember how we came to be that way. We were alone, and somehow the ten-foot distance from our bodies to the rest of the party felt like lightyears. We were alone, and I had no idea why.

“So what did you want to talk to me about?”

Things snapped into focus, my buzz all but dissipating as I realized that she had spoken to me. I was supposed to do something, then. Something important. I stared at her, my mind frozen as I desperately grasped for some core of thought that would allow me to not just stand there staring at her any longer.

“Dean? Hello, earth to Dean?”

There it was! The thing I was supposed to do was talk! I scrambled my brain searching for words, but all that came out was a low groaning sound, followed by the infinitely loud sound of me swallowing. Twice.

“Are you alright? Do you want me to get you some water?”

I coughed into the crook of my arm, more to have something to do than for need of actually clearing my throat. It was now or never, or so it felt.

“Yeah,” I coughed again, “yeah I’m good. Sorry, think I smoked too much. I’m a little lost.”

She smiled, and it was a warm smile. Her eyes twinkled in the light of the torches.

“Well, what were you going to tell me?”

I panicked, then. Something near my brain-stem told me that whatever I had planned here was going to fail miserably, that I should just let it be.

But I had spent a long time letting it be. If I was going to find success in my yearning for Irina, it would be now, under the midnight canopy of tree branches and stars, with firelight reflected in her eyes.

“I was going to tell you,” I could feel my throat closing up and my tongue drying as the words struggled to escape, “that I’m really-into-you-and-have-been-for-a-while-and-just-wanted-to-say-something-before-you-leave-and-it’s-okay-if-you-don’t-like-me-back-I-just-wanted-to-say-is-all!”

The world suddenly stood still, and every microscopic change in her facial expression was a triumph or universe-shaking defeat. It seemed she was conflicted at first, and my heart sank. But then she surprised me, and smiled that warm smile again.

“That’s cool.”

“It is?”

“Yes, it is.” Her laugh tinkled out then, and my knees were jelly. It didn’t matter what happened next, but suddenly my buzz was back and the liquid courage took over.

We were kissing, next. It was awkward with our differences in height, and my mouth was dry. Her mouth tasted like Doublemint gum and cigarettes, and her hands were wrapped around my neck languidly. My erection was straining against her midsection. I knew she must have felt it, but she didn’t shy away.

We were farther away from the ring of torches, then. Her hands fumbled with the waistband of my shorts. I elected to stop moving around and let her set the pace of things. Then her fingers wrapped around my hardness, and it was exquisite.

But Irina stopped then. Her fumblings beneath the material of my shorts had been short-lived, and when I looked up her expression was blank.

“Is something wrong?” I knew it was, but I needed to ask. My cock needed me to ask.

“Did you hear that?”

“I didn’t hear anything.”

Then I heard it, or maybe I heard it the first time, but subconsciously decided to ignore the call. It came again, louder this time.

“Irina!”

“Shit, that’s Morgan. I gotta go.”

I don’t know how long I sat there, or how quickly she left. I found myself sitting in grass, my shorts lowered enough for my ass to have gotten damp with night-dew. I remember feeling let down. Not just for the missed opportunity of a handjob, but with the experience as a whole. I had expected fireworks when I kissed Irina. I had spent so much time fantasizing about those lips, had cum many times masturbating and thinking about her naked body. She had been right there, ready and waiting. But it had felt so lackluster.

I chalked this feeling up to my drunken state, and eventually wandered back to the party. Things were still in full swing, but it appeared that Irina and a couple of her friends had left. The college students, friends of Jordan’s brother, had arrived. I grabbed another beer and sat against the base of a tree, fumbling with the tab to open it. As some time passed, I realized that I was insatiably horny still. My erection began to grow again, this time without any inspiration to guide it.

After spending what felt like half an hour against that tree, allowing my erection to grow warmly against my bare leg before subsiding, then growing again, I had had enough. I stood up swiftly, putting one hand in the pocket of my shorts to hold myself in check, and stumbled out, once again past the light of the torches.

Once I had gone a reasonable distance away, I leaned up against another tree and freed my aching cock from the confines of my shorts. It bobbed expectantly out in the cool night air, and I could see that it was leaking a little bit of precum. Irina had really done a number on me. I began to masturbate, my grip a bit lazy from the influence of so many beers.

The warm, familiar feeling of my hand was pleasant, but I couldn’t bring myself to orgasm. Too drunk, I thought, wishing I had gone a bit easier on the free drinks. There was no going back without cumming now, not in my horny state, so I kept at it. I began to fantasize, my eyes closed as my hand pumped at my cock, my other hand cradling my balls below.

I saw Irina again, her eyes twinkling as she grabbed my erection beneath my shorts. I pictured her going down on her knees, looking up at me as she took my cock into her mouth. Her hands had been unpracticed, but in my mind, her sucking was expert.

But still my cum would not arrive, my need unmet. I delved deeper, picturing all sorts of things I would do to her, if we had more time. Fucking, sixty-nining under the stars, many different positions and ways I could find my way around her tight body.

I was so lost in thought that I didn’t hear the approaching footsteps and low voices to my right until they were quite close. I froze, listening intently. I couldn’t make out who it was, or where exactly they were, but they were within ten feet of me, that was sure. But the crack of broken twigs and misplaced stones stopped before they came into sight. In my drunken horniness, this meant I had no need to stop what I was doing. They couldn’t see me, I could keep on going. I had built up a good rhythm, and since I was already having trouble cumming I didn’t want to restart the whole process.

The low, quiet voices stopped, and I heard no more. I squeezed my balls tighter with my left hand, and began to jerk off in earnest. It felt as though there was a thin layer of foam around my cock, and my sensitivity was low. But it felt good, the weed always made jerking off much more pleasurable, it seemed.

I heard something, then, that made me start with surprise. A low groan, followed by a husky voice saying “Fuck yeah.”

My dick jumped a little at the prospect of being so close to some couple hooking up in the woods, and I reminded myself to be very quiet, so as not to alert them to my presence. I kept a steady timing on my cock, and something occurred to me. This is like free porn!

If I could get a good angle on the action behind me and a bit to the right, it would be helpful to finally cum and get on with my night. As quietly as I could, I edged around the shape of my tree, leading with my head to get a good look at all of my surroundings.

I saw nothing, at first. The noises had ceased, and I feared I had lost my chance. It was almost comical, feeling so robbed of a good experience, my cock in my hands out in those woods. I sighed lightly, resigning myself to a long, laborious session of masturbation.

But what was that, out underneath that old evergreen? A flash of moonlight striking something metallic caught my eye, and I sidled back behind the obscuring trunk of my own tree, my shorts now tangled around my ankles. There they were! Two forms in profile, entwined in the throes of an intense make-out. The moon was obscured by a cloud, and I used the moment to reposition myself.

As I propped my shoulder against a low-hanging branch of the tree I hid behind, my hand slowed its smooth stroking of my manhood below. The couple, whoever they were, was closer to me than I had originally thought, and I worried they might hear me moving. But I shouldn’t have worried, they were very distracted with one another.

The sense of naughtiness, watching those two shadowy forms rubbing up against each other, had my senses at an all-time high. Maybe it was the beer wearing off, but I felt like I could feel every pinprick of air colliding against my naked skin. My cock swelled, and I returned to it with vigor, stroking all the way down to the base, then rotating my wrist as I brought it up the length of my shaft. I was steadily leaking precum now, and thought that I would probably cum soon. If only I could get a better look!

After a few moments more, one of the two underneath the evergreen did a classic, “I’m going to blow you now,” move, and began kissing their way down the guy’s body. He wasted no time, and even went so far as to push down on his partner’s head lightly, to expedite the whole process. The balls on this guy, I thought, most girls around town would never go for that.

Then the moon came out from behind that cloud, and I got a perfect illumination of what was going on in front of me. The guy about to get his rocks off was one of the college students I was familiar with, a dude named Tony Bates. Tony was middling height, with sandy blonde curls that got him places with the ladies at the University, I would bet. His build was lean and muscular, and I could see just about every detail of it from my hidden vantage some fifteen feet away.

The next part I recall in perfect detail. As Tony’s shorts were unceremoniously lowered in one swift motion, he rotated a little bit, and I could finally see who was working so efficiently to swallow his cock.

It was Paul. My Paul, the Paul I had spent almost every waking moment with for the last six years. The Paul who, “had a way with the ladies,” and was always first to make a dirty joke when the opportunity presented itself. When I saw the expression on his face, one of unbridled lust and subservience, I gasped audibly.

Luckily, Paul was too busy gazing at Tony’s dick with a salacious expression to take any notice of me. He tugged Tony’s tight boxer briefs down around his ankles, his hands lingering on Tony’s ass as he did so. He gave each firm cheek a slow, luxurious squeeze on the way down. The lighting was so good I could see every detail as Tony rotated a bit more to lean his back against the tree they hid beneath.

Paul wasted no time, immediately taking the head of Tony’s impressive length into his waiting mouth. Tony groaned lowly, and ran his hands through the short chestnut length of Paul’s hair, pausing briefly to cusp his ears and lightly massage Paul’s earlobes. Paul looked up at him, his mouth filled now with half of Tony’s cock. Paul’s eyes reflected moonlight, and I heard him give out an appreciative humming moan as he took more of Tony’s length down his throat.

At this point, Tony simply leaned back against the tree trunk and let Paul do his thing. It was then that the nature of the situation finally rang home for me. Paul was gay. Or something. I didn’t know what else to conclude, watching him hungrily slurp on Tony Bates’ cock in the woods that night. One of my best friends, who I thought I knew everything about, was hooking up with a guy, one that I knew!

Then another thing rang into focus in my mind, one that struck with such sudden fervor that I felt a physical pang in the back of my neck: My hand had never left my cock, watching them this whole time. I released my grip as though I had been holding a live grenade, my hand scraping against the bark of my hiding-tree. I looked down, and was awestruck with what I saw, what I felt.

My cock was harder than it had ever been. It was positively pulsing with the intensity of my erection, it looked like I had grown almost an inch! I could feel every square millimeter of my shaft, so sensitive against the cool air of the woods. The precum that had been a small stream before was now leaking freely as I felt the ongoing effects of pre-orgasm. I reached down to spread the sticky solution around the tip, and almost came immediately, violently.

My hand snapped back to where it had been a moment before, and my cock strained, pumping slightly as I fought down the urge to release there and then. I realized that I had completely forgotten my surroundings during this discovery, and looked around hastily to see if I had been discovered. Luckily, the coast was clear.

My head turned, seemingly of its own accord, and I looked back to where Paul and Tony resided in front of me. Tony had taken back control, holding the back of Paul’s head with both hands, his cock pumping eagerly into Paul’s waiting throat. Paul couldn’t take all of it, and I heard him sputter and choke a little as Tony increased the pace of his thrusting.

Tony moaned, and his grip on Paul’s head tightened. I could see the muscles of his forearms working as he held Paul there, and I looked on intently for the part I knew was coming next.

Under the dim light of the moon, I could see Tony’s balls retract slightly, and the shaft of his cock started moving up and down, pumping. He was cumming down Paul’s throat, groaning as he emptied his seed into Paul’s eager mouth. Paul’s Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hungrily, taking every drop Tony gave him.

My hand was on my cock again, and I realized with panicky immediacy that I was going to cum, too. But this time, I didn’t have the usual beginnings of orgasm that I was used to. I felt it in the lower regions of my abdomen, building warmly towards my chest. My balls pulled towards my stomach, and my shaft began pounding with the intensity of my coming release.

It pumped drily twice, three times, and the entirety of my orgasm was upon me. It thundered through me, my cock feeling as though it was covered with warm, low flames. I began to cum. Rope after thick rope of jizz erupted from the end of my cock, my knees weakened and I had to lean one hand against the trunk of the tree I stood by to keep my footing. All of the air left my lungs in one desperate exhalation, and I fought to regain my breath.

My cum splashed across the moonlit grass, more than I had ever produced before. I stared at the still-pumping shaft of my manhood with slack-jawed wonder, feeling the shuddering vestiges of orgasm leave my body.

I stood there, breathing heavily. My extremities felt heavy, my mind swimming. As the afterglow of what was surely the most intense orgasm of my life faded, my brain came back online. What had just happened? With Paul and Tony, with me?

I decided to postpone any deliberations until I saw the end of things between the two before me. Slowly, I hitched my shorts and underwear from around my ankles. The material of my shorts was soft, and the stimulation on my still-sensitive dick was almost excruciating. I peered around the bole of my tree again, wondering what I would find.

Tony had left, it seemed. Paul remained on his knees, and I saw that he had freed his own cock from the straining confines of his jeans. He worked at it feverishly, and I watched in wonder as his left hand slipped down beneath his balls, rubbing, seeking. He brought it to his mouth, wetting his index finger and returning it below.

As I watched Paul, pleasuring himself in more ways than one some ten feet in front of me, my cock stirred against my leg again. I could never get hard so quickly like this, and I found it a pleasant but slightly troubling surprise. I let the thought drop, looking on intently to see what happened next.

Paul came, and the volume of his release was intense. He came more in that one orgasm than I think I would have come in four, I could see every spurt in the now-bright moonlight streaming between the branches of the trees. His legs shook slightly, and his left hand moved quickly around his ass. He sat back, letting his cock droop slightly as his orgasm subsided. Then he raised his right hand to his mouth, licking cum from his fingers with an almost greedy expression on his face.

I waited silently, breathing and thinking very little until Paul rose, dusting off the knees of his jeans and gingerly tucking his manhood back into his underwear. He walked back towards the party, whistling as he so often did. I watched him go, and then a flood of thought broke free in my mind and I had to sit down to ponder it all.

Why had I watched them, once I figured out it was two guys, especially one who was so close to me? Why had I reacted so viscerally, and how did I end up cumming to the sight of them? Was I gay? Was Paul? I had never entertained the thought of other guys, save for locker room comparisons and the like. Paul had always seemed so straight, he practically talked about pussy every day of the week. Was he just overcompensating for his actual sexuality?

Then another thing occurred to me. How many times had something like what happened with Tony gone down before? Were they a couple? I didn’t think that seemed likely, but they had been kissing passionately before the deed was done. I decided to put it out of my mind. I was acting a bit strange tonight, and my drunken state was surely to blame.

I returned to the party a few moments later, grabbing another beer and settling down with a ring of people sitting and vibing with the music. I saw Tony Bates talking to some girl on the other side of things, Paul nowhere to be seen. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned suddenly, only to find Jamie and Brandon grinning down at me with goofy expressions on their faces.

“Saw you walk off with Irina, dude,” said Jamie, and his shit-eating grin intensified, “what happened?”

“Ahh, nothing, man. Things started to get hot and heavy but her friends wanted to leave. Major case of blue-balls.”

“Bummer. Where you been? You missed Keller and Heidi going to town on each other right in the middle of things.” Brandon looked haggard and red-eyed, I figured he had had a little too much of the drink, or the pot, or both.

“Took a walk. Wanted to let my hard-on cool down.”

They both laughed at that, and we clanked our cans together and got on with our night. I proceeded to drink myself into a stupor that lifted only when we were on our bike ride home, the chill night air running across my smiling face. Paul rode with us just the same, and I kept staring at his back as we went along, wondering.

It was a while before we spoke of what happened that night, and things became a lot more complicated.