Leaping Into the Quarry

Chapter 1

I saw him standing on the floating platform in the middle of crystal pool with water bugs scampering across the shimmering surface. Swallows swooped low to snag a bug. The deserted, abandoned Indiana rock quarry was alive with birds and dragon flies. The clear inky blue water was in stark contrast to his white, naked butt with his tanned arms and neck. With his back to me, he was speaking to a fellow who was taller and heavier, but equally fleshy white. I stood hidden among the weeping willows on the lee side of the pool. I watched as they casually chatted in the blistering sun until his loud voice shattered the silence, “Race you to the boulders!” Both turned and dove in. They swam with strong strokes toward the exposed boulders across the pool.

He climbed up, carefully selecting his stepping stones. As he crawled up, I watched his bare butt cheeks separate and his low hanging balls bounce against his muscular thighs. His muscled arms tensed as he pulled himself up. His rugged face glistened in the sunshine as he whipped his head to the side, removing the water from his eyes. His face was serious as he waited for his companion to follow him up the pitted boulders.

Momentarily, he paused before jumping feet first into the water. He swam away waiting for his friend to jump. I brushed the buzzing flies away from my face, wishing I could join them. I knew if I revealed myself they would hurry to escape. Boys are funny about their nakedness, which is something I’m rarely able to be. I couldn’t help but rub the front of my knee-length shorts as my member hardened. I didn’t move for fear they might see me. They swam into the shallow water before stepping among the low hanging tree branches on the other side of the quarry. When they reappeared, they were dressed in identical blue jeans, plaid shirts with the sleeves cut off and cowboy boots. They mounted their horses which must have been tied in the shade and rode away.

At last I had my chance to swim in the pool’s inviting water. I had been to this quarry once before, when I was about eleven, when the Aldo McMurray Traveling Exposition came through central Indiana. That was seven years ago. I remembered the rutted trail my father followed to reach this place. We were with three families who swam and picnicked all afternoon. Now, I was alone sitting in the green grass, slipping off my shoes and socks and placing them beside my bicycle. I draped my shirt, shorts and white body underwear on the handle bars. I walked carefully across the grass, avoiding the thorns that, I suspected, hid beneath the green silky surface. I carefully stepped around several large stones to reach the pool. I was happy to finally be by myself. I paddled out toward the swimming platform enjoying the privacy that my everyday life was denied.

I was born into a performing family. Our German roots were deep in circus going back to my great-grandfather who brought the family to the United States about 1910 to perform with the Hagenbeck-Wallace Circus. Neither my father nor my mother ever questioned that we were circus. There were uncles and aunts and cousins who were involved as much as we. I’m an only child of my beautiful, light-skinned Germanic mother who performs bareback more elegantly than anyone. My father is the catcher for our leaping troupe. I fly with Ginny and Julia, a cousin and her friend, and Hart, my father’s brother’s oldest son, but I’m the best. My mother tells me so when no one else is around. My body is right for flying. I’m 5 foot 6 inches tall, but solidly built. My upper body is toned from years of flying from perch to Papa twice daily except for Sunday, when we get the day off.

My blondish-brown hair is prickly and short. My eighteen year old legs, chest and butt are covered with fine blond fuzz. I hate the fuzz. I am handsome because Mama regularly tells me so. I have robin’s egg blue eyes with long eyelashes. Mama loves to brush my crew cut which was in fashion in the mid-1950’s, but I still like it in 1961. As I swam on this blue-sky June day, I could feel my ample Germanic penis filling. The pleasure of being alone caused that. I could see my fully hard appendage push the hood away as it came to full size. Few people had ever seen it except me. Modesty is expected, since we have so little privacy. I share a small caravan with my Papa and Mama. Papa bought it three years ago when we moved back onto the McMurray show.

Under the water I enjoyed feeling my manhood to the fullest. I rubbed, concentrating and not caring that three young boys stood where the two men stood before they rode off. I could see they were watching me probably guessing what I was doing. I didn’t care. They couldn’t see the trail of white that was crawling toward the water’s surface. I watched as they stripped to their swim suits and ran yelling at each other as they fell into the water.

Randy running into the quarry

I didn’t care if they saw me naked. I swam to the swimming platform and climbed up to show off my body. I could see them pushing and shoving as they signaled something to each other. I sat down to enjoy the sunshine. Together, they timidly swam up to the float and climbed up. The oldest, a pudgy bushy haired boy, maybe fifteen or sixteen, about my height, was pushed to the front. He said, “Mister ain’t you the guy from the circus. I bet you are?”

Unembarrassed, I smiled, “Yeah, that’s me. You caught me with my pants off.”

“Oh, we don’t care. We usually don’t wear anything, but always come in swimming suits because there’re sometimes girls here.”

“Take ‘em off and we can be naked together.” Looking at each other and smiling, the three quickly dropped their suits exposing their circumcised wieners. Their pale midsections were without hair except for the pudgy boy, who had a soft blond bush around his dick. “My name’s Randy, what’s yours.”

The bigger boy said, “I’m Zack, he’s Terry and the little squirt is Mark.”

Mark frowned but asked, “Mister, is it fun being with the circus. It seems so much better than living in our dumpy town.”

“It’s OK for me. I don’t have a hometown like you guys do. I’d like to have a home with my own room. I bet you have your own rooms.”

The smallest boy grimaced, “Not me. I got two little brothers who I have to sleep with in the same bed. They are always kicking and pushing. I hate it.”

“Me, too, but my brothers are older and they push me around. They sometimes make me do things I don’t like.”

“Like what?” Zack said.

With a grin on his face Terry said, “They make me suck on their dicks.”

“What?”

“That’s what I said. I suck them.”

“Does it make you sick?”

“No, but they want to do it when I want to sleep.”

I listened and wondered what it would be like to have my dick sucked. The conversation between the three boys intrigued me. I listened until Terry and Mark jumped up, grabbed their swim suits and dove into the water heading toward their bicycles. Zack stayed saying, “They gotta go to their grandmother’s birthday party. I can stay.”

I was lying with my hands behind my head watching the clouds race across the cloud-dotted sky. I noticed that Zack moved closer. As I watched him I could see he had nicely developed pecs and arms, even though his stomach needed tightening. His bright blue eyes betrayed his interest in my body or, at least, one part of it. He slowly looked longingly at my extended wiener. “Whoa, man that’s really big.”

I laughed, “Zack, you have nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I bet I never grow as big as you.” He timidly asked, “Can I touch it?” With my approving nod, he carefully took my dick in his right hand. He was rubbing his hand back and forth which made my sheath slip seductively over my hardening member. He continued to push the sheath back. “My dad has skin on his dick, like you. He told me they cut my skin off when I was a tiny baby.”

He leaned forward. His cheeks were smooth not showing any sign of hair growth. I touched his wispy brown bangs that fell into his eyes and pushed it aside. He moved closer. I whispered, “If you want to suck it, go ahead if you’re sure no one’s looking?” His head popped up and he scanned the shoreline.

“Don’t see anyone. Will I get sick if I do it?”

“I don’t think so. But you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”

He lowered his face slowly taking my stiff dick into the warm, wet interior of his mouth. He hesitated and slowly opened his mouth wider to let me slip in. I couldn’t believe the wonderful feeling. I could hear his soft sucking as he slowly moved his mouth up and down my shaft. I did my best not to squirm. My heart was throbbing as his mouth continued slurping as he moved up and down. I heard distant rustling, as did he. My dick fell out of his mouth as he jumped to his feet, hurriedly grabbed his swimming suit and dove into the water. He splashed noisily toward the shore. He didn’t look back. I didn’t want him to leave. He had taken me to a place that I could never have imagined when I started my bicycle ride.

I watched as Zack disappeared under the branches of the sycamores. I was alone. Whatever we heard never appeared. I lay soaking up the late afternoon sunshine, knowing soon I would return to my life – practice, practice, perform, and more practice. Zack awoke a part of me that I had not known about myself. He was a cute, maturing young guy who gave me a moment’s pleasure that I wished I could have gotten from the guy with the ghostly white torso and unruly brown hair.

Two months after my afternoon swim in the quarry, my life changed forever. One morning when we were playing in Fayetteville, Arkansas, my wonderful Mama woke up with a terrible headache. She couldn’t get out of bed. Papa and I helped her to the car. Papa drove her to the hospital’s emergency ward. We helped her into a room with fluorescent lights and soft green paint on the sterile walls. Nurses came immediately and shuttled Mama away on a gurney. We heard nothing for more than two hours. I couldn’t sit still. I paced back and forth. Papa made me stop because he said my shoe heels clicking were making him crazy. Finally, a grim-faced, balding man in a white coat approached us. He spoke to Papa. “Mr. Hershfeld, I’m Doctor Faustus, your wife is gravely ill. We speculate that she has had a cerebral hemorrhage. She is alive. I suggest you go to her. There is really nothing more we can do, except keep her comfortable.”

I rose with Papa, intent on seeing Mama. Papa pushed me down into my chair. “I’ll come get you in a few minutes.” The doctor pushed open frosted-glass double doors. I began to pace back and forth. Papa didn’t return in a few minutes as promised. All I could think of was how empty our caravan would be if Mama died. I’m not very religious, but I got on my knees and prayed she’d get better. I kept my eye on the large black and white wall clock that had an annoying click. At one o’clock, I knew it was going to be close if Papa and I were going to make the 2pm performance. Moments later, he came out with red eyes and hugged me. He never hugged me, so I knew Mama was dead. I stood stiffly as he hugged me and whispered, “She died.” I was angry because I wanted to say ‘Goodbye’ or ‘I love you.’ He didn’t consider me. He realized I was upset when I pushed him away and harshly said, “We better go or we’ll miss the spec.”

Looking at the clock, he started toward the door. Papa spoke in broken sentences: “We will bury her – but where? Maybe have her cremated and keep her ashes with us until we get home.” We didn’t have a home, even though we rented a small house off season in Sarasota. “You have to be ‘Mama’ in her act this afternoon. We will wait and tell Mr. McMurray after the performance.”

“I don’t know if I can fit into her costume? I don’t have a wig.”

“I’ll get the wig. You try to get into her costume. Do you remember her routine?”

Mama on Regal's back

I didn’t speak because I was sure her white Percheron, Regal, knew the routine and would remind me if I wasn’t doing what Stella and Erma, Mama’s riding partners, were doing. I hurried into the caravan and stripped off my clothes. I pulled Mama’s red sequined costume over my bare butt. The top straps pulled at my shoulders, but didn’t break. I stuffed a pair of white underpants in each breast pouch. I looked stupid but I was performing for Mama.

I started to cry as I applied the red lipstick, which was her favorite. I placed my favorite picture of Mama back on the windowsill. Papa opened the door and immediately started to cry. We cried together for no more than two minutes when there was a knock at the door. “Five minutes.”

Papa placed a dark brown wig on my head and straightened it. “Will it stay on? It has a strap. Do you want to put it under your chin?”

“No, I’ll keep my head still.”

Stella and Erma saw me enter the tent, but there wasn’t time for an explanation. Playing March of the Troubadours by Verdi Mr. Moss’ fingers on the Hammond organ keyboard heralded us into the ring. On Regal’s haunches I followed the women into the tent. We passed Mr. McMurray. His eyes told me he didn’t notice that Mama wasn’t there. The fifteen minutes evaporated as we did our acrobatics on horseback. When I started to do something wrong, Regal would correct me. We didn’t faultier. When I dismounted, I threw the reins to a groom. I was in too much of a hurry to worry about who he was. I ran back to the caravan to dress for my aerial performance. As I entered, I realized I hadn’t removed the lip stick and Mr. McMurray squinted his eyes. I flew gracefully and rhythmically as Mama always chided me to do. I was performing for her.

The next three days were a blur. There was no funeral because Mama wouldn’t have wanted one. We celebrated Mama’s life with the performers at a local restaurant. The occasion was sadness and happiness, as the circus family gathered to send off one of their own. Papa had her body cremated and asked that the ashes be delivered to our Florida address even though we wouldn’t be there for more than a month.

When Papa told Mr. McMurray what had happened, he was angry and sad because he lost part of a popular act. Mr. McMurray wanted me to continue to be Mama, but I told Papa that I didn’t want to. Mr. McMurray talked to me personally and I agreed, since we had less than a month to go before our season ended. Stella, Erma and I performed as usual until Erma slipped off the back of her horse and twisted her ankle. Stella and I finished the season. The three horses were Mama’s. We had to decide what to do with them. Papa and I discussed selling them. I didn’t want to do that. Papa didn’t want to take them to Florida. Our groom must have overheard Papa and me discussing the horses.

He spoke to me. “Mr. Hershfeld,” I turned thinking he was speaking to Papa, but he was speaking to me.

“Sorry, I’m Randy, no one calls me Mr. Hershfeld.

“My name is Robert Smith. I am sorry about your Mama. I only met her a couple of times since I recently signed on. She loved her horses and, especially Regal. He is truly a magnificent animal. I hope you think I am doing OK looking after him and the others.”

I was stunned that he was speaking to me. Performers and workers rarely spoke, other than to say “Hi”. I looked into the man’s deep chocolate eyes and the bushy brown hair that fell over his eyes. I knew he was the guy from the quarry. He didn’t seem to recognize me. How could he, since I never left the leafy cover of the bushes when he and his friend swam at the quarry? I said, “Yes, Robert, you’re doing a great job. You take good care of the horses. Did Mama or Papa hire you to help? I’m sure Mr. McMurray wouldn’t be paying you to take care of our horses.”

“You’re right, sir. No one is paying me, but Mr. McMurray said I could work on the tent crew for meals. I’m sort of between jobs. I love being with the animals.”

“Well, thank you, I guess…” I couldn’t say anymore since I was transfixed on his eyes and soft smile.

“I don’t mean to be nosy, but I heard your Papa say he didn’t want to take the horses to Florida. I would be happy to care for them at my Grandpa’s farm in Indiana. I would take good care of them and keep them exercised for you.” I knew approximately where he lived in Indiana, but didn’t let him know I did. I stood stupidly dumb. He continued, “My friend is a rider and could get them ready for the spring.”

I didn’t tell Robert that Papa and I decided that we would not come back to the McMurray show. We discussed putting an ad in Billboard that we were available, but hadn’t gotten around to doing that yet. I announced to my leaping partners, Ginny, Julia and Hart, that I wasn’t coming back. They didn’t seem to care. I knew that Ginny was planning to marry Gino during the break. I suspected she was already pregnant.

I didn’t mention anything to Papa about my conversation with Robert until after the final evening performance. He asked me if I knew anything about Robert. I told him I only knew he was taking good care of the horses. Papa never cared much for the horses. Neither he nor the horses liked each other. He was a leaper not a rider.

The day after we closed, Papa spoke to Mr. McMurray about Robert. He told Papa that Robert was related to him by marriage and he was giving Robert a job since he was having some personal difficulties. Papa mentioned Robert’s offer and Mr. McMurray confirmed that he knew Robert’s grandfather had a farm. With so little information, we were hesitant to board the horses with Robert until I suggested to Papa that I go with Robert to check out the farm. He didn’t care and seemed anxious to get on his way to Florida.

Back in the caravan I said to Papa, “What if I take a break from the act next year and go to college?”

He was quiet for a few moments. “I didn’t think you’d be a leaper forever. You’re too smart. Where would you go? How would you pay for college?”

“I bet I could get a job teaching gymnastics or flying.”

“Who teaches leaping? I never heard of such a college,” he laughed.

I actually knew more than I was saying because Mama had encouraged me to go to college, but she didn’t think Papa would approve. I read in Billboard that there was a college in Illinois that taught circus skills. I wrote them to get information, which they quickly sent, encouraging me to apply and offering me a small scholarship. I didn’t have a chance to tell Mama before she died. Secretly, I hoped that Robert’s grandfather’s farm was not too far from that school.

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