The Making of Jesi : Part 2

(Part 1 from 2)

Strange things began to happen over the next several weeks that I did not fully understand. Things I usually chalked up to my being so paranoid. But still I wondered why Uncle Jim had asked me to start addressing him simply as Jim? I had always called him Uncle Jim for as long as I could remember. Coupled with the fact that I found a type written document referencing adult internet sites in the alley behind his home just a few feet from the garbage cans. Was it odd or just very coincidental that Jim had asked me to take the garbage out that morning? Again, after some consideration, I wrote the incidents off as much to do about nothing. Simply coincidence.

By now I had started to masturbate at least once a day and had begun surfing the web for hours at a time. It had become very obvious to me that my prurient interests were closely associated with men as I enjoyed the gay sites. I did not understand the why of it but it was becoming more and more apparent. At times I would not go to the sites but it did not take long before I was right back in them. My newfound list was extremely helpful, especially the site where men could place ads regarding their fantasies, desires, and list activities they looked to do with other men. I was particularly attracted to the ads of older men who were looking for young guys over the age of 18. These ads really spurred my enjoyment as I recalled them while masturbating. I spent hours on this site but did not have the courage to make contact.

One morning, as Jim and I were having breakfast he asked, “Aren’t you getting bored with just hanging around the house while I am at work?” Without waiting for a reply he went on – “My neighbor across the street loves to go out into the wilderness to shoot targets and he is constantly asking me if I would like to go. I have gone with him a couple of times but it is not something I want to do all the time. I could introduce you. I am sure he would love to take you.”

Even though I dreaded the thought of being away from my computer and the confines of my bedroom the thought of learning to shoot a gun appealed to me very much. “You know, that sounds like a lot of fun,” I said.

After we finished our meal Jim and I headed across the street. Fortunately we were just in time as his neighbor was loading up his vehicle, apparently he had plans to go out to do some target shooting.

“Hey Ben, I want you to meet my young friend Jess, he will be staying with me for the next year or so.” Friend? Why did my uncle introduce me as his friend? Again I was somewhat confused but let it ride.

“HI Jim.” Ben then turned offering his hand to me, “Hello Jess.”

“Hello Mr.” I hesitated as I realized I did not actually know his last name. He smiled and said, “Just call me Ben.”

Ben was, I guessed and did confirmed later, in his early 60’s, average height, slim, somewhat handsome in a rugged sort of way.

“Ben, you ask me to go out to shoot at targets all the time, unfortunately my job prevents me from accepting the offer for the most part; however, Jess here has never fired a weapon but wants to learn if it is alright with you.”

Ben looked at me, not just at my face, his eyes roamed over me from head to toe. “Well,” he said, “I would need permission from a parent to take their underage kid with me.” As he made this statement he hesitated at the word “kid” giving me the impression he had no idea what my gender actually was – so he used a word that could apply to either sex.

Jim started to respond but I beat him to the punch, “I am 18 and a half – a guy and can decide for myself!” My response, even to my ears, came across as indignant but Ben just smiled.

Finally, after a few seconds of consideration Ben said, “Okay with me – you can go this morning if you like but you will need to get a light jacket as it gets pretty cool up in the mountains.”

I told him I would love to go and turned to run back for a jacket. Just as I started to move away I clearly heard him whisper to Jim, “Is he really a guy!” Man, I thought to myself, I really need to work on my macho mannerisms!

I returned with my jacket, said goodbye to Jim, and climbed into his SUV. It was a very nice and new vehicle that had been jacked up a bit, I suppose to go off-road. I noticed immediately that the interior was very shaded as all the windows, with the exception of the front windshield, were glazed over with a dark grey film. Kind of felt like being in a tank.

As we headed out for the hour drive to his favorite area in the mountains we made small talk centered on questions and answers to his and my status in life. He asked if I had a girlfriend, why I was living with Jim, my relationship with Jim, and on and on. I learned that he had been married but was now divorced and that he planned on staying that way. However, he did say that his wife lived only a couple of blocks away and that they had stayed very good friends as they had business dealings together. They still loved each other but just found it hard to live together. He went on to mention that, since she lived so close, I might run in to her – her name was Holly.

I was totally comfortable with him and that comfort grew as we chatted back and forth. He was easy to like. Some of that comfort, I must admit, went away when our conversation, I should say his conversation, started to include sexual subjects like have you ever had sex with anyone and do you go to porn sites on your computer? I responded “no” to both questions because I thought he might tell Jim. Thankfully, we reached our destination – it was miles out in the forest that was reached via a dirt road then a right hand turn onto a track that was nothing but two ruts.

Once out of the car Ben opened the tailgate where I noticed several targets. After mounting two of the targets on nearby trees he pulled out a long vinyl case and when opened exposed a highly polished rifle. Ben identified the weapon as a 22 open site rifle and then showed me how it operated making sure I knew how the safety worked. He then told me that he would shoot a magazine so that I could see how it was done. I was impressed when he finished and we approached the targets to found that he had hit the center of the target with all 15 rounds. Very impressive.

We walked back to the firing line and after he reloaded the weapon he told me he would stand behind me to assist in my setup. After instructing me on how to stand he placed the rifle in my hands then moved behind me to help with the handling and aiming. I tried to concentrate on his instruction but I must admit that his close proximity to me was very disconcerting. My nostrils were filled with his cologne and my mind was trying to understand why his closeness felt pretty good. As I fired the weapon, badly I must say, I was aware that his body increasingly became more tightly pressed against me. Aim, what aim? I only hit the target with a couple of rounds.

A few hours later we concluded the outing and started back home.

“Well, how did you like shooting a gun for the first time?”

I responded, “That was so amazing and exciting. Can I come back again and maybe actually hit the target with more rounds?”

“Sure, no problem. I come out here a couple times a week and you can come with me whenever you like.”

“That is a lot of target practice … no wonder you are so good at it.”

“I don’t always come out to shoot,” he said. Sometimes I just come out to cruise around.”

Funny, when he said that he looked at me with that infectious smile of his on his face. He followed by asking, “Do you know what that means?”

When I responded “sure” it meant he would just ride around to see the scenery and maybe animals.

Oddly he just chuckled and said, “Yes, sometimes there are animals around.”

When we reached the dirt road he stopped and pointed out that if you turned right the road went 4 or 5 miles up the canyon then made a loop coming back. He informed that there were numerous picnic areas with tables along the road but, for the most part, there were only a few people. Again, the smile returned.

Over the next several weeks we returned to shoot the rifle and, not wanting to brag, I became increasingly proficient at hitting the target. Very good if you don’t count that I rarely hit the center. On a couple of those trips we went up the canyon on the dirt road to check for wildlife. On both occasions I noticed that a few of the picnic areas were occupied by men who really did not seem to be picnicking. I thought I had figured that out when we passed a man wearing only shorts. I mentioned, “I guess guys come up here to get a tan?”

Ben replied, “Yes, that is one reason why they come up here.”

I could not resist asking, “Why else?”

“Oh, just a lot of reasons.” He left it at that.

Even though the trips to the mountains marginally interfered with my surfing the web I still spent an inordinate amount of time on sexually related sites. It was shortly after our last trip that I found a site claiming it had short videos in various sexual categories. Eureka! I naturally went through the normal progression: straight porn, threesomes, lesbian, etc. By far I spent the majority of time watching the lesbian movies because they would give me a hard-on so much faster and, simply stated, made me so horny it only took two or three minutes to orgasm once I started to masturbate.

It was at this point that some understanding about the men in the woods came to me. I was looking through the categories on one site that was identified as gay sex. Clicking on the category brought up 25 pages of thumbs with images of two or more guys having sex together. I began to scroll down the page when I noticed an image of two guys outdoors having sex. The caption said, “Two men cruising the Woods for Sex.” Light Bulb!

I immediately clicked on the thumb and the video came up. It started by showing an older man – at least 50 – who was wearing nothing but a pair of cutoffs and who was stroking his cock through the material. What caught my attention was that he was standing by a car in what appeared to be, judging from a table in the background, a picnic area. It wasn’t rocket science to conclude that cruising also meant riding around looking for a guy wearing nothing but shorts (more or less), in the woods, in a picnic area, and stroking his cock. Still, even though I was sure I was right, I had no way of concluding the men in the mountains that I had seen were there for that purpose. It just seemed to make sense.

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