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Back on land, I bent over to pick up my shorts and nearly let out a yelp when something cold dug itself into the crack of my ass. As I passed him, Butch turned around, and once again started following me.
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So I began to make my way back to my few clothes. Butch was known around our neighbourhood to be a bit aggressive. I didn’t care much to remain in the water with the dog so close. Seeing me his ears perked up, and he began to pace back and forth on the bank before jumping out into the creek. He must have seen me leaving and decided to follow me out. Butch was a grey and black Husky and Shepherd mix. I breathed a sigh of relief as my neighbour’s dog, Butch, came trudging through the bushes with his nose to the ground. Fearing that someone would see me out here in the buff, I scanned the edge of the water. Just as I had begun to relax, I heard the crunching of leaves. Wading out into the middle of the creek, I squatted down into the waist deep waters and revelled in the refreshing stream. It grew to a nice six-inch dick, so I had nothing to complain about in that department. I guess being such a late bloomer, I was never the most well-endowed guy in high school, but at three-inches flaccid I didn’t mind.
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Then, after checking for any other signs of other life, I slid my thumbs under the waistband of my shorts and peeled them from my sweaty skin releasing the uncut member between my legs. Hopping along I quickly pulled off my shoes, and tossed them onto the bank. Finally, after what felt like hours, I heard the babbling of its waters. I walked along the trail looking out for familiar landmarks that told me I was nearing a cooling creek that ran through the forest. As the heat of midday beats down on me, sweat poured off my young body. I had decided to only wear shorts and runners (no socks) as it was one of those balmy Alabama days. I guess I was a late bloomer, as I never grew pubic hair until I was eighteen, didn’t need to shave until I was twenty-five.Īnyway, this particular hike something happened that one would call a major event in a young lad’s life. Something that plagued me for a long time, as it wasn’t until I was in my late twenties that people stopped asking me for ID to get into clubs, or buy alcohol in bars. My mom always joked I still looked fourteen, given how short and skinny I was. Back then I was a lean, scrawny nineteen-year-old, with a messy straw-blond head of hair. I found it peaceful, walking the miles and miles of game trails is a good way to keep in shape. Growing up in rural Alabama, I found myself alone in the woods often.