The summer after I turned eighteen, the old gang from high school decided to get together for one last fling. A couple of the guys were getting married in the fall, a couple more were joining the army, and myself and another were set to go off to college. We all got together out at my parents' farm for a big barbecue, then we headed out to the big park on the outskirts of town, where the county fair had set up. This might not seem like a likely place for a big fling, but you gotta remember that we were country boys living far from the temptations of the big city.
The six of us hit the fairgrounds at about sundown, and soon we'd broken up into two groups. I was walking down the midway with a couple of my buddies when a herd of kids rounded the corner of a tent, going full-blast. One of the little rug rats plowed right into me, jamming his cotton candy right between my legs. It was hotter'n hell out, and the combination of sweat and sugar on my bare legs was not a pleasant sensation. I looked down and saw nothing but pink fuzz from knee to crotch. My buddies got quite a kick out of it, but I couldn't see wandering around for the rest of the night with sticky thighs, so I left them at the arcade booth and headed off in search of a place to get cleaned up.
I must've made a wrong turn, because instead of ending up at the bathrooms under the grandstand, I found myself smack in the middle of the trailers where the folks who worked the fair circuit were living. There were a couple of lights on, but for the most part everyone was working. I was trying to find my way back to the midway when I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder.
"Stop right there, buddy," a gruff voice ordered. Hell, I wasn't looking for a fight, so I stopped right in my tracks. "What do you think you're doing?"
"I was taking a shortcut to the men's room, and I guess I got lost," I shrugged.
As he removed his hand from my shoulder, I turned to face the man who had stopped me. He was a big guy, with slicked-back hair and a cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth, glowing in the dusk. The light was behind him, so I couldn't make out much more than that, but he could clearly see me. "I got zapped by some kid's cotton candy. I'm a mess." I looked down at my legs and shrugged. The long hairs growing on the insides of my thighs were plastered flat, giving me some credibility.
"Looks like they got you a good one," he chuckled. "Sorry I wasn't too friendly at first, but a couple of the trailers got robbed last week and folks around here are a little nervous. Why don't you come with me and we'll get you all fixed up?"
I nodded and followed, assuming he was going to show me to the washroom since I had told him I had gotten lost trying to find it, but instead he led me over to a trailer parked under a large tree. He flipped on the lights and motioned me inside. The trailer was tiny, and there was barely room for the two of us in the cramped quarters. The guy smiled at me and offered me a beer, which I gratefully accepted.
In the light, I could see that he wasn't much older than me, probably mid-twenties, dark-haired and kinda good-looking, in a rough kinda way. He hadn't shaved, and the stubble on his chin and cheeks was almost starting to look like a beard. The sleeves were ripped off of his shirt, displaying a solid pair of arms with pumped biceps. There was a tattoo of a tiger on his left forearm that really looked like it was moving when he flexed his muscles. His shorts were just an old pair of jeans that he had cut down, and they were worn in all the right places. He had big hands with grease and grime ground into the callouses, like he was a mechanic or something along those lines.
"Looks like they got your shorts as well," the guy said, staring openly at my crotch. "Slip 'em off and I'll throw them in the sink; in this heat, they'll be dry in no time."
I took off my shorts and discovered that the gooey mess was also on my shirt. The guy motioned for me to give him that as well, leaving me cooling my heels in my underwear, white socks and sneakers. "I feel pretty dumb," I commented, taking a long pull on the beer.
"Don't worry about it," the guy said, looking me up and down. "Too fucking hot for clothes anyway," he said as he peeled his shirt off over his head.
The guy was built real solid, with a smooth chest and a pleasure trail that traveled from his navel into his jean shorts. He motioned for me to sit on the couch, then sat on the chair across from me. The space was so small that our knees were touching.