Escape from the Pray-Away-the-Gay Bible Camp! (pt.1)
A spicy revision of an early story that seems as germane when it was written in the Bush era, as it does now...
Simo snuck out to the fort he'd built with his friend, Pepper Possum, to smoke cigarettes and share a joint. The moon poked in and out of the passing clouds. He had to be careful to hop from clump to clump of swamp grass quietly at first; rains had made the water level rise so that much of the land and trees were submerged. The glow of his parent's cabin shone faintly, little more than the light of a distant firefly.
He reached the fort made from a frame of sticks, thatched with Spanish moss, and crawled in next to his friend. He might not have been Simo's ideal: a bit round, not the brightest, but real friendly, even if he hardly talked. Simo knew Pepper from school, and even more from detention; they both had to stay after often enough, for this and that trouble: just last week the skunk had sprayed a mouthy fox in the hall just as the principal, a pompous polar bear, padded by. One more time and he'd be kicked out for the year. Before this, it'd been a wise-ass wolf who'd taken to holding Pepper over trash-cans by his tail that had set the skunk off. Simo didn't mind this role of looking out for his friend. And when they explored the swamps at night, it was is if the need of speech fell away almost completely and they communicated with themselves and the wilderness around them in some more elemental way.
~
They lay next to each other on a platform that served as a deck in the rear of the fort, with only the sounds of crickets and frogs around them. Pepper passed Simo a fat joint: a potent skunk weed, which he could always disguise with his own scent if he had to. They exhaled at the same time, staring up to the stars, stretching out their footpaws in the warm night air. He felt tingly as a dragonfly.
Simo felt Pepper's little paws stroking his skunk-mohawk softly, and his whole body trembled. He'd been letting things like this happen, and liking them. The funny, round critter let his paw wander down the Skunk's tummy, then behind his tail, lifting it to gently grab at his balls, making Simo grow hard at once. His heart beat fast, and he lay back exposing his tummy, and let Pepper do as he pleased in the humid night air.
He panted. "That feels real nice Pepper...", and the skunk sat up and changed position, resting his muzzle on the possum's tummy, and licked his belly, making him giggle. "Awww, what's so funny?", and the skunk quickly tugged Pepper's shorts down, and licked a bit lower. He'd wanted to forever, and why not? He felt all numb and giggly from the weed; his heart raced like mad. Simo's small black nose burrowed under the possum's package, coming up under his balls, and giving them a lick, taking in the scent. "Aw...you trashy 'lil fella! Guess what they about dirty 'ol possums is true!", and he worked his way to the musky marsupial's pecker, taking the head in his maw, and licking the dripping tip, teasingly. He could feel it pulsing against his maw, and Pepper's paws pressing his head down. He stroked his own cock with an eager paw. The skunk took the shaft deeper, feeling his nose bob against his friend's balls, pressed down harder and harder by those grabby little hands, all the more excited to feel forced. Though it was unreal this was finally happening, it felt like it always had, natural enough, and as the possum panted and pressed his head down harder, the skunk's muzzle stretched wider, tongue wrapping the slippery shaft, gliding across the balls, held down firmly now as Pepper filled his muzzle with ropes of dripping cum: the skunk struggled to drink them down, as he shot his own load over the possum stretched out before him. He gagged a bit, panting loudly, catching his breath in a rush of dizzy euphoria: his own scent, mingled with the swamp and the possum, making him feel almost tipsy...
Lightheaded, he licked his muzzle, tasting his friend's cum, and then, licking his own off Pepper's tummy and chest. "Huh, tastes nice, actually!", and they both smiled, as Simo pulled his shorts up, and then his friend's, before planting a huge, sticky kiss on his lips.
"Gosh Pepper...never thought we'd do all that", but before Pepper could answer, they jumped up with a shock, as a flashlight burned into their eyes: Above them loomed Pepper's pappy, 'ol Preacher Opssum, with a look that could have turned one to stone.
"And here ya'll are! Lookit 'em!, layin' together in sin! And coated by the sticky juice of the devil!" the preacher shouted, waving a Bible wildly in the air.
Simo reared up, spraying the preacher in the eyes, sending him reeling backwards to land in the muddy swamp. But that was his last squirt; he had used his scent glands too much in the past week, and depleted them. In a moment, a crowd from the church was upon them, pulling them apart, and putting the struggling Skunk in a strait-jacket, while leading the Opposum away, hogtied in a cage. The skunk snarled, and all but cried. That night would be the last he would ever see of his quiet friend, the one with whom they had discovered so much, a wordless truth.
"Fuck you all!" Simo hissed. "You'll never change me. Ever. I'll burn your stupid church down, and shove your bibles up your assholes! And use your god-damn cross like a dildo! Let me go!"
But the next sensation he felt was the brief sting of a hypodermic in his arm, and then a deep sleep. He dreamed of flying, of leaving the low-laying Alabama swamps, his snake-handling Pentecostal parents, and living among the clouds...
(to be continued)