Chapter 3

I popped his prick out of my mouth. “Mmm, so do you.” I replied. “But this is killing my back.”

His laugh returned. “Then we should move this to someplace more private.”

I sat back up, offering a quick kiss before asking, “Um, you know we’re surrounded on all four sides, right?” Which was, of course, a gross understatement, all things considered—all things being Woodstock.

He nodded and slid his pants back on, waiting for his boner to subside before removing the blanket and standing us both up. “Pays to be a local,” he replied, grabbing my hand as he walked us through the dense crush of writhing, smiling, tripping young-folk.

“You live around here?” I asked, my head moving from side to side, taking in all the activity, the swirl of color, the tidal wave of sound, the explosion of youthful vigor. It was fucking good to be alive, I had to say. Peace and love, man. Peace and love.

“I’m from about thirty minutes away, in Monticello. Still, I know the area well enough,” he replied, gripping my hand harder, sending a million tingles down my back that shot out to all four limbs in a pot-induced blast. It took us an hour to wind our way through, hopping over bodies, around flaying limbs, eventually reaching a high fence to the far right of the speakers just as Janis Joplin was making her entrance. “And here we are,” he informed with a flourish.

I grinned, my eyes roaming upward. “I’m way too stoned to climb up this thing.”

“Not up,” he said, bending down to unlatch a well-concealed opening. “We came up here a couple of days ago and made this.” He laughed and started to climb though. “In other words, four free tickets to Woodstock.” Ironically, the concert was free for everyone soon after it started.

I followed him and stood up on the other side before we made our way over to a small cluster of old oaks, the sound of Janis’s wailing crystal-clear in my ears, our view now blocked by the wide trees. “Home sweet home,” I said, diving onto his mouth and pulling him into me, our bodies at last pressed up tight together, our hands roaming north and south—though mostly the latter.

Soon enough, he backed away, his hand up, motioning for me to wait where I was, to watch him. He grabbed the bottom of his blousy orange and brown tunic, slowly lifting it above his head, his thin belly, ripped with dense little muscles, coming into view, then his chest, tight pecs, a smattering of blond hair trailing down the center and circling two pink, jutting nipples. The shirt, now off, was thrown to the ground.

“Your turn,” he said, his voice suddenly raspy, eyes equally bright as they were blue, veined with red.

I did as he had done, reaching for the trim of my tie-dyed-T before lifting it up, gradually, revealing my body, inch by inch, until my shirt joined his. Goosebumps ran rampant across my arms. “Um, your turn again,” I told him, then smiled, waiting anxiously for the visual reply.

His own smile grew wide on his adorable face. He kicked off his sandals and grabbed the top of his pants, sliding them down, his blond bush glinting in what little light made its way through to our secluded patch of land, his wasp-narrow waist giving way to thicker legs, thighs rife with curly blond hair, sinewy muscle, and then densely packed calves even farther below. The pants got kicked off, his rigid cock swaying, balls bouncing, his young, perfect body laid out bare before me—mine for the taking. And take, naturally, I soon did.

I moaned at the sight of him, eager to join him in his butt-nakedness. Still, I gave him the show he was obviously eager to witness. I kicked off my sneakers, rolled off my socks, and unbuttoned my Levi’s, the bellbottoms brushing the ground and then sliding down, off, my cock springing out and arcing up. And then I, too, stood there naked, acres of people screaming in the distance, my eyes and ears glued only on him.

He smiled and walked toward me, his lips quickly finding mine, arms wrapping around me, hands roaming over my lower back, my ass, his fingers splaying my cheeks apart to tease my hole.

“Mmm,” I hummed, my lips moving down his neck, across his clavicle, taking in a thick nipple for a chew and a suck and a tender bite.

“Mmm,” he echoed, his knees buckling as I pulled with my teeth, yanking on his cock as I did so.

I turned him around, leaning him against a tree, his hands up against it for support. I ran my fingers down his back, through the blondish tangle of hair just above his ass, and then spread his legs apart while he pushed his butt out for me. It was small, tight, a trail of hair running down the crack, the cheeks otherwise smooth, alabaster, solid.