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A note to readers of The Arrangement: Several
of you have sent me e-mails asking if The Arrangement is really a true story. It is. What you are
reading about actually happened to me in the late 60's. Many of the details in the story are as
sharp in my memory today as when they first happened. Now, after all these years have passed, I
don't claim (ala Archie Goodwin) to be able to remember all of the conversations word for word
(Especially not what the suckees said as they spilled their seed across my tongue, I was too busy
to take notes and, anyhow I never dreamed back then that I would be writing about it today.). But
the dialogue in the story is at least in the general vicinity of what was said or groaned and in
some cases it is almost exact (because some things do stick with you for a lifetime.) So as you
read this story remember these events did happen to me. Nothing important in this story is fiction.
When the stories from the Savannah Kid (and if you haven't read them I recommend them to you. The
Kid's work can be found in the "Prolific Net Authors" archive at Nifty.org) led me to start writing
The Arrangement, I planned to do so in three parts, each of which would have four to seven
installments Breaking The Arrangement 1 is the first installment of the second part of the story.
Whether or not this story is ever completed is up to you. At the end of each installment of The
Arrangement I asked " If you've liked this installment of a true story and think I should continue
to tell you about my adventures as a high school student please let me know at webdazell@yahoo.com"
After The Arrangement 5 was posted in December I received only three e-mails commenting on the
story. George Orwell once said "All writers are vain, selfish and lazy." I'm no different.While no
one asked me to write The Arrangement in the first place, when I don't get any response I wonder
whether or not to make the effort to continue. So if you do want to keep reading this story, please
take the time to send me an e-mail and let me know what you think.
------------------------------------------------------------------------ My name is Webster Dazell
and this is a story about many things: growing up in the Sixties, friendship, trust, hope,
disappointment, and, of course, sex. Most of all it's the story of a young man growing up on a farm
in the nation's heartland finding out just who and what he is. It's my story. I hope you enjoy it.
Breaking The Arrangement 1: A continuation of a true story The weekend at his grandmother's
apartment and our activities with Mr. Grambs marked another turning point in my relationship with
my friend Evan. Before that weekend sex was just another part of our friendship and not even the
major part. But after that weekend, Evan turned into one horny bastard. As before, we still
continued to do everything together we used to. We'd ride our bikes, fish and swim in the creek, do
farm chores together and we still worked on cars in the barn. But before our sexplay was an
occasional thing; now Evan was always looking for a chance to slip his dick into my mouth, and it
being summer and school being out, he had plenty of chances. Not that I was complaining understand.
I loved sucking Evan's cock, letting him feed me his come, swirling it around in my mouth before I
swallowed. But you really can get too much of a good thing. Take the time we went fishing in
Babcock Creek. We had a spot we liked to fish in, one not too far down from the bridge where we
always had pretty good luck. If the fish weren't biting then we'd go for a swim, not where we
fished, the water there was too shallow for that. But back upstream the creek had been scooped out
when the bridge was built in the Thirties's, leaving a hidden swimming hole right underneath the
bridge. We'd hang onto the I-beams and work our way out to the middle of the creek like we were on
monkey bars. Then we'd let go, drop about ten feet and "splash." The sides of the embankment along
side and under the bridge were made of concrete to help keep the roadbed in place. This gave us a
ledge at the top of either side where, while we couldn't stand, we could sit. The ledge went back
about four feet so we had plenty of space to spread out. There were a couple of blankets there we
had brought on previous trips so we could eat lunch without scraping all the skin off our legs. Of
course, they had another use as well. Anyway, we finished up the chores that morning around 11 and,
since we didn't have to do chores again until 3, we decided to go fishing. Because it was hot out
we both changed out of our work clothes, wriggling into swim shorts and tennis shoes. The sun felt
good against our bare backs and legs as we peddled our way along the rutted dirt road over to the
creek (about 3/4 of a mile away.), our bikes rattling with every bump and hole in the road. We had
to be careful not to drop our fishing rods which were balanced across our handlebars and held in
this precarious position by one grasping hand. When we got to the bridge, we walked our bikes down
the side of road and leaned them against one of the pillars that helped hold up the bridge. This
way our bikes were out of sight of anyone passing by on the road. (Not that we had ever had
anything stolen but why take chances.) I was stringing the line through my rod when Evan started to
talk with me. "Web, you're pretty good at that science stuff. I was reading in one of my dad's
fishing magazines that fish don't see things the same way we do." Now Evan was a C-average student
and he didn't like any of the science classed we had to take, preferring auto mechanics or gym, so
this sudden interest in matters piscine puzzled me.
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"I mean I can understand a fish rising to a
fly, that's natural cause we see bugs land on the water all the time. Even a fish striking at a
lure makes sense to me. Bigger fish eat smaller fish, we've seen them eat the minnows in this
creek. But what in the world would make a fish go for a worm on a hook. That doesn't seem right to
me. There ain't no worms in the creek unless we throw one in, they sure don't crawl in by
themselves. And any worm we throw in doesn't float. It sinks to the bottom and drowns. So how come
a fish will eat a worm? If you were a fish Web, would you want to eat a fat, big pink worm?" When I
turned around to answer Evan, I saw him kneeling on the ledge above, his swimsuit next to him, his
semi-flaccid prick waggling up and down and back and forth between two fingers. "What about it Web?
If you were a fish would you want to eat a juicy old worm like this one?" "I don't know. If I were
a fish I don't think I'd be tempted by such a puny little worm like that one," I said even as I
started the ascent up the sloping concrete wall. "I'd like my worms to be a little harder so I had
something to chew on." "I can't believe a poor scrawny starving fish like you would turn down a
meal as good as this one," Evan said stroking his firming erection with his fingertips, the
foreskin beginning to smear his precum over the glistening head of his cock. "I just bet I could
land me something nice with this particular worm, don't you cocksucker?" My nod of agreement put
the first three inches of Evan's rod back into my mouth, the tip poking the far end of my tongue
just short of my throat. Evan laid back down on the blanket, his hands drawing my head further down
on his dick. "That's it Web, just keep moving your head up and down like that, you look like a
bobber on the end of a struck line. Come on Web, suck me, suck me hard, blow's just an expression."
I redoubled my oral efforts on his thick, flat dick, leaving my hands free to massage his balls. In
the distance I heard the sound of a truck coming down the road. It was coming our way fast. I tried
to pull my head off Evan's cock but he held me in place with his hands. "I'm almost there Web.
Forget about the goddamn truck and suck me. Faster man, be a good scumeater and make me come."
Evan's explosion into my mouth came almost simultaneously with the rain of dirt and pebbles on my
back as the truck thundered over the bridge. As the dust from its passage settled, I abandoned the
now spent prick and sat up, shaking some of the dust from my hair. "Well, I think we've settled the
question about the worm don't you," I asked Evan as we both perched on the edge of the ledge,
recovering from our exertions. "Fish eat worms for the same reasons we eat Twinkees. They want the
cream inside." Evan groaned and gave me a light punch in the arm. "That joke's so bad you're going
to have to suck me off again to make up for it.' And I did. In fact, I coaxed Evan to climax three
times before we had to leave to get back to our chores, although each time I had to use more and
more hand to make him come and my "creamy" reward got smaller each time. After his fourth and final
orgasm, my lips were as chapped as though I had spent the day in a desert and Evan's dick was red,
sore and swollen. He complained about the way it rubbed against his work clothes for three days
afterwards. I just laughed and told him to use liberal applications of Cornhusker Lotion. Which was
another change in Evan. Not the Cornhusker Lotion but his renewed interest in cornholing me. At
first he just dropped hints that he wanted to stick his dick up my ass. I ignored his hints which
then got increasingly less subtle (Not that Evan was ever very subtle to begin with) until he
finally came out and asked why I wouldn't let him butt-fuck me. "Because it hurts." "Don't be a
sissy. It'll only hurt for a little while. Then you'll get used to it. Besides I'll be gentle. Just
let me put the head in. I won't go any further." "No, we tried that and it hurt." "Come on Web, be
a man. Bend over for me. You'll like it once I get it all the way in. It'll feel real good." "If
it'll feel so good, lemme do it to you." "Hey man, you're the cocksucker in this relationship not
me. And as long as you're sucking cock why not try taking it up the ass. old man Grambs said you
have the perfect butt for it and I already know you're sticking that enema tube up there when you
jack-off. Why not my dick?" "Because the tube doesn't hurt and you do." "OK, let's do this. We'll
measure how big around my dick is OK? Then you can start sticking something a little bigger up your
ass each time until you get to where you're riding on something that's just a little larger than my
cock is. Then you know it won't hurt when I butt-fuck you. Whada ya say?" A little intrigued, I
told Evan I'd think about it. The nozzle from the enema kit did feel good and I was kinda curious
about how Evan's cock would feel in my ass. It's just that it hurt so much the couple of times we'd
tried it. My ass even bled a little for a couple of days afterwards. Still, maybe Evan had a good
idea. If I stretched my ass slowly and got used to the size, it might not hurt. "OK Web. I'm
holdin' you to that. Now let's get a tape measure and see how big I am. And while you're down there
measuring, I think I might have another mouthful for you.You're gettin' a little skinny. I don't
think you're getting enough protein."
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