2 comments/ 9816 views/ 6 favorites White-Nose Syndrome By: mrwankles "You're a funny guy, John," noted Tom from the back seat of my SUV. With my gaze on the winding road before me, I replied as matter-of-factly as possible, "Maybe so, but I'm serious. If you two still want to go caving tonight with me and Joe, y'all are gonna have to go naked. Let me know now if that's a problem so I can turn around if I need to." He didn't believe me, "How can you be serious about caving naked?" I glanced into my rear-view mirror at Tom. He was staring out the passenger window, absorbing the early sunset this time of year over the Cumberland Plateau. Scraggly Virginia pines, fat Virginia junipers, and a few mobile homes sped by at close range. I didn't know Tom well enough to guess what he was thinking. I had only met him a couple of months earlier after joining a Tuesday night run club that met downtown. Its leader always gave us intersections or landmarks ahead at which we were to stop and wait for everyone to catch up before running to the next landmark. Because Tom and I tended to reach these spots well before the laggards, we had started talking a bit and within a few weeks I had mentioned to him that I volunteered as a weekend cave guide at a state park in the northwest corner of the state. Week by week Tom showed a real interest in caving and asked plenty of questions, including whether there were there blind white snakes in caves similar to cave fish, whether I had ever gotten stoned in a cave with the lights off, and what happened when someone on the tour had to go to the bathroom. When I told him that an acquaintance who serves on the board of the state cave conservancy had offered to let me lead trips into a private cave on his property, Tom immediately texted me his contact info. Over the years I have met a lot of people who will express a superficial interest in spelunking but when actually given an opportunity to experience it are never free, or never follow up with me, or simply disappear. In contrast, Tom replied the next day to my iCalendar invite for the following weekend when I knew my wife would be out of town and I was not on duty at the state park. A couple of hours after accepting the invite, Tom messaged me to ask if his bud Mike could come along. I agreed because four would be a good number for a cave trip even though I was a little reluctant to have someone I had never met join us. I suspected Mike was probably Tom's boyfriend. Perhaps I shouldn't have jumped to that conclusion just because Tom had once run wearing an organic foods t-shirt, never mentioned having a girlfriend at any of our run breaks, shaved his legs, and once plugged his ears when an ambulance passed us with siren blaring. Next to Tom in the back seat (directly behind me in the driver's seat) sat Mike. Whereas Tom was a bit swarthy for my part of the country, Mike was as red-headed as the Irish setter I had in elementary school. Tom's haircut might pass military inspection but Mike's suggested draft-dodger with its long orange curls. Mike's poker face was consistent with his quiet demeanor since I had picked him and Tom up a half hour earlier at a shopping center parking lot where Tom could leave his car. Seeing Mike in the fading dusk suddenly reminded me of a girlfriend from high school which made me wonder whether Tom looked at the tiny fiery hairs that probably sprouted from Mike's asshole before Tom fucked him the same way I used to look at hers. I answered Tom, "You know I'm serious. White-nose syndrome is like a holocaust for bats and there's evidence that people are spreading it more than the bats are. I think it's great that you were so interested in caving that you and Mike stopped at Hades Hole today to go on the tour, but it's one of those big show caves with confirmed white-nose syndrome. There's no way I can risk spreading the disease into this private cave." Tom's voice grew agitated, "If you had told me we wouldn't have gone there. Nobody at Hades Hole said anything about white-nose syndrome." "I'm not surprised because these tour caves would lose money if customers thought they might catch something. And because people can't catch it and they know most of their customers are not cavers, they just keep quiet about it." Mike reminisced, "Contaminated or not, that glass elevator that took us into the underground lake was fucking awesome." Tom remembered too, "Did you see those blind fish crashing into the elevator tube? And hear that redneck ask the guide what they tasted like?" It sounded entertaining to me too, but I was a cave snob, "Well guys it isn't like that at the state park. There's no light and sound show, no ghost stories, and no gift shop. But y'all should still come up some time when I'm on duty." "Nude?" smirked Tom. "Too bad they don't offer nude tours on Tuesdays. Tuesdays are so slow. I think the park system could use the extra revenue. Who knows? Maybe the extra ticket sales would fund a cure for white-nose syndrome?" Tom turned from his window and the twilight, catching my eye in the rear view mirror, "I think I sort of understand why we can't wear the same clothes we wore at Hades Hole today and that you said you and Joe don't have any spare clothes for us, but why can't we at least wear our underwear since it wasn't exposed at Hades Hole?" "Because the protocol requires all clothing to be changed and decontaminated. It's microscopic so it could have easily gotten on your underwear. You're probably thinking that your skin has to be decontaminated too, but you don't want to ask because you're afraid we can't go, right?" "Well, it crossed my mind-" "That's why you're both showering in the waterfall at the entrance before you go in." "Won't our brand new boots get wet?" "If you wear them in the waterfall, I imagine they will. Just wait to put them on until you're done. You said y'all bought them after Hades Hole because the tour hurt your feet, right? So they don't need to be decontaminated since they haven't been inside an infected cave." "Won't we damage our goods scraping them against rocks?" probed Tom. "You might make contact with the walls some, but no scraping. We'll have a few crawls, but no salamander crawls. After all, I wouldn't want you to damage the cave flooring with your junk." Joe tried to lighten it up from shotgun position, "I guess we can always follow the trail of pubes back out if we lose our way." Tom grimaced, "Y'all don't shave your pubes? And you think I'm the contaminated one?" Mike looked at Tom, "Well in that case at least I'll be a little warmer than you." What? Had Mike just now discovered Tom shaved his bush? Perhaps Tom and Mike weren't lovers after all. After the laughter, silence. Neither Mike nor Tom agreed to go nude, neither Joe nor I asked either to confirm. Neither Mike nor Tom asked to reschedule, neither Joe nor I insisted we that carry on. I turned left onto a gravel road for another two miles until I reached the mailbox at the board member's driveway. "So Mike," I broke the silence, "what do you do on Tuesday nights while Tom and I run?" "Watch TV at home and when my roommate's out, light up and pretend I'm in Colorado," he sighed. Joe laughed but I was getting confused. So Mike had a roommate? Now that I thought about Mike's curves contrasting with Tom's very lithe torso, their apparent unease at possibly seeing each other naked, and their disinterest in hanging out together on Tuesday nights, I figured they must just be friends instead of lovers. I shifted the transmission into park, "Ready?" Joe and I hopped out and went around to the back of my SUV to go through our equipment. I couldn't make out anything Tom and Mike were saying to each other as Joe and I counted out helmets, a couple of wide-mouth piss bottles, eight knee pads, spare batteries, plastic zip lock bags for any crap (including the possibility of actual crap) that we needed to bring back, and some water. Then over the top of the back seat, we saw Tom and Mike pull their shirts overhead and lift up to slip their pants off. I glanced at Joe and we sort of chuckled about the situation. We were both a little embarrassed for them, and for ourselves given the awkwardness, but what else could be done? When Joe smiled back at me he revealed all his straight white teeth in the dome light. I had known Joe as a fellow volunteer at the state park for about 6 months. I knew he was five years younger than me and I suspected he was probably not happy about having already lost so much of his blonde hair. He was wiry and I envied the ease with which he could likely move through most cave formations. Whereas being taller, broader, and longer might be an advantage for me with most women, it was a disadvantage caving. I realized I did not know much about Joe. Whenever we shared a shift he tended to speak only about caves, spelunking, speleology, geology, etc. If he dated anyone, liked any particular kind of movies or food, rooted for any specific college team, or thought all caves were created 6,000 years ago according to Genesis, he never let me know. My impression of Joe was of a handsome responsible smart guy – the kind most women probably considered a friend rather than a hot fuck. The only women who would likely ride him would be horny frustrated middle aged ones who fantasized about corrupting Mormon missionaries. Not surprisingly Joe had jumped at the opportunity to explore this private cave when I mentioned it to him and I knew if anything happened to me, he could get us all out safely. I soon had all the gear in my pack. Joe would carry the ropes to the entrance and then leave them outside the cave for the return trip. It wasn't long before Mike came around on my left and Tom appeared on Joe's right. I can't speak for Joe, but I knew Tom and Mike were naked without looking carefully. My peripheral vision assured me so. And so did their body language. I confess, I was curious about checking them out but I knew they were both nervous and unhappy about being naked and I didn't want to make it worse for them. More importantly, I didn't want anyone accusing me of being gay if I got caught looking. I turned to Tom and tried to find the right words to reassure him, "Thanks for understanding how serious this disease is. Y'all might be a little cool at first but the more we walk you'll warm up and you'll have a good story to tell when you grow old." "If that's the case then you and Joe should join me and Mike buck naked." I looked right at Joe to see whether he was game. Part of me was. I remembered how much fun it was to streak though my neighborhood after midnight with friends when I was 16. And of course I had sometimes stripped when caving on my own (even in the state park) just for the hell of it. I knew that being on private property we'd never get caught by anyone or get in trouble tonight. The idea seemed a little exciting compared to working all day at my cubicle, then listening to my wife talk about her coworkers when I got home, and guiding tourists through the same ol'stalactites on the weekends. But Joe's face was granite. He mumbled, "I've skinny dipped in the Blue Ridge a few times and surfed naked in the Pacific, but I don't know how cool it's going to be in there." I tried to imagine blonde, pale, balding Joe surfing naked in California or Australia. It was somewhat easier to picture him sliding down Bust-Yer-Butt Falls off the Blue Ridge Parkway with his balls a-bouncing. Maybe there was more to Joe than I had credited. But he was right, this time of year when the sun set so early there was a chill after dusk and my own bag was drawn up tight against me. If we were at a hot springs I'd go for it but I wasn't about to volunteer to display my shriveled and meek dick to these guys. So I laughed it off, "Let's get going." I set off leading the way to the cave entrance with Joe behind me. Mike and Tom stepped carefully wearing only sports sandals with their knotted boots slung over their shoulders. There was no obvious path to follow because the owner did not want trespassers tempted into the cave. There were a lot of boulders in the woods we had to navigate so I hoped the cool temperatures were keeping the reptiles holed up. A gibbous southern Appalachian moon shone down on the lichens, mountain tripe, and then on the small creek that tumbled from thorned vines into an unlit void where the plateau had ruptured eons ago. "Fucking hell, how deep is that?" asked Tom over my right shoulder as I peered down. "Now that's a real goddamned Hades Hole." I had a naked guy standing so close behind me his voice tickled my ear. Not just any guy but the one I ran with on Tuesday nights. "Can I go first?" begged Joe. "Go for it." I had been here about a dozen times but I could sense Joe's excitement at visiting a new cave for the first time. And I knew this cave entry was a lot more interesting than the handicapped accessible one at the state park. "Mike and Tom, watch how Joe does it. Once he gets to the bottom and flashes his helmet light, you'll see that it's not as deep as you might think." "On rope!" soon cried Joe. And though it was unnecessary, he followed with "On rappel!" simply for the fun of it since he rarely had the chance to do so. The three of us stood and waited for the light on Joe's helmet to blink so we'd know he had reached bottom. Then came, "Off rope!" "Ready Tom?" Aping Joe's example, Tom turned his back to the destination below, gripped the rope with both hands and began to lean back. I had a perfect excuse to look down at his grip in the same direction as his cock, but when I did so, my light cast a large shadow across his midsection cheating me of a proper look. And then in a call recognizable to hashers the world over, Tom yelled mockingly, "On-on!" As he disappeared backwards out of the light, Mike and I could see easily how Tom's strong running legs served him on his descent. Since I could run as well as Tom, I hoped my legs looked that good to others. When I knew he had hit bottom, I shouted down, "Don't forget to shower good before putting your boots on!" "Thanks mom," preceded Tom's overly dramatic shrieking at the coldness of the water. I was glad I didn't have to shower in a cold waterfall on a cool evening with nothing warm to put on afterwards, but I scolded, "Take it like a man! That high-pitched screaming will confuse the bats." By now Mike was already on his way down. This time I turned my light off, hoping to catch a sneaky peek at his package illuminated by the moonlight. It sort of worked. I could definitely see some kind of small tattoo just below Mike's navel and reflective untrimmed hairs wreathing his dick. From what I could make out without being obvious, he looked fairly average and about equal parts dick and balls. I was interrupted when Tom looked up towards his friend and hollered, "Now is that what the cave books call a vertical crack?" Joe read my mind aloud, "It's going to be a long night." By the time I reached the base of the pit, Mike had finished showering so I missed any opportunity to check either one out while we were standing around. Both guys were busy squatting and lacing up their new boots so Joe and I handed out the helmets and I went over the basics with him in case something happened to me inside. Then, after a week of waiting, several hours of driving, 30 minutes of hiking, and 10 minutes of rappelling, we were finally ready to cave. The three filed single behind me with Joe in the rear. "So Mike and Tom, I suppose when you were watching the sound and light show at Hades Hole earlier today you never guessed your evening would turn out this way, did you?" "Sure, I did," countered Tom, "I bet Mike $50 this morning that you'd come up with some lame excuse to see our dingdongs before the night was over." Whoa. I was glad I was in front so no one could see my face flush. That hit a little close to home. I knew I had not schemed to get them naked, but I felt some shame for having tried to see them naked. Fortunately the remark drew only laughs from everyone. "Looks like you're the funny guy, Tom, not me. But it just so happens this isn't even the first nude caving expedition I have ever heard of. Back in the late 1990s National Geographic did a documentary on caves and showed the team going nude through pools of water to keep from contaminating them. They showed it on public tv so it's really not a big deal. I've still got the VHS tape if you have a player." "Cool," Mike exhaled. "Yes it is," agreed Tom, "when are we supposed to build up that heat to stay warm?" "If you don't get warm soon, I'll stop so you can do some jumping jacks or pushups, deal?" "Yeah, yeah, yeah." "So what made y'all stop by Hades Hole today before meeting me and Joe?" "My youth group at church went there once when I couldn't make it and afterwards they all talked about awesome it was, and I've been seeing those billboards for years, so I thought we'd make today a cave day and consider it a warm up for this trip. Believe me, I learned my lesson." I chuckled, "No, I wasn't making fun of Hades Hole, I just wondered why that particular cave but I get it. There are over 500 caves in this part of the state but only a handful are open to the public so what choice do you have if you want to go to caves, right? Hades Hole is high class and downright scientific in comparison to Donkey Dens with its strobe lights and Dancing Jackasses show every hour." Joe spoke for the first time, "Don't get me started on the Holy Belowlands with its gladiator cave guides and the big boulder that closes the cave door when you enter and miraculously rolls open an hour later where you ascend into the gift shop!" I pointed out that those Roman gladiators probably get much better tips than state park volunteers. We eventually reached an upward bend that narrowed considerably a couple of feet up. I passed my pack back to Joe since he was the smallest of us four. I turned facing the other three with my back against the outer curve of the bend, stepped up once, and then stood up into the bend. Just when the rocks at my bottom rib blocked my view of the others and of my waist, I felt hands around my waistband and cool air as my pants hit my boots. Because I never wear a belt to avoid damaging cave formations, my depantsing had taken no more than a second to accomplish. I was shocked but shouldn't have been surprised by the prank. I heard laughter, then from Tom, "Now you know how we feel!" More laughter. I could also hear Joe's laughter in the mix with Tom's and Mike's. Then in an obvious speleo-dig at my cock and showing off some recently acquired vocabulary, Mike added, "Hey John, I thought soda straws only grew in wet caves!" And that's when it started to happen. I'm confident that had I entered the cave naked with Tom and Mike, or simply changed in front of them at the gym, it wouldn't have happened. But the sudden realization that those three guys were now focused entirely on my dick – picturing those red headlamps shining on it – knowing I was hanging at eye level – knowing none of them had ever seen my cock before and were now comparing its length, shape, and girth to theirs – I felt that familiar tingle. You know what I mean, that sensation when you start to fill and the skin begins to stretch, then it twists and rolls a little to one side before finally achieving lift off. And unlike those spongy hard-ons I get after spending a few hours on line, this one was a steel hook. It could certainly have supported the weight of my pack had Tom dangled it from me. I knew they were all still staring at my hard-on when Tom offered the next cave pun, "Mike, what did the tour guide say today about stalagmites? That they 'mite' grow to the ceiling?" More laughter. Again I heard it from Joe too. White-Nose Syndrome Mike spoke a little louder than before, "Ok big boy, get a-moving! Tom and I are getting cold standing around." I yelled back, "I'm not going anywhere like this." Then I heard Mike tell Tom, "You pull'em back up since you're the one who pulled'em down." So I supposed those were Tom's hands I felt trying to pull my pants back up. He made a real effort to repants me, but the feel of hands and fingers on my thighs and butt just made my dick harder. Because his arms were outstretched around my waistband while he faced me, I knew my shaft must be bouncing around just inches from his face. Then I overheard Mike strategizing, "Just leave it sticking out of the fly if it won't go back in." The heels of Tom's palms warmed the base of my cock as he tried to button me up unzipped. His panting reached my bush as he struggled not to hurt me or touch me more than necessary. A cool wet sensation under my peehole convinced me I had begun to leak precum. When Tom's knuckles withdrew from my lowest belly, I imagined him standing back to admire his handiwork. I wondered what Joe was thinking, standing there clothed while two naked cavers tried to get my pants up despite my hard-on so that we could move on. Because there was nothing else for him to be doing, I knew Joe must still be staring at my dick. So far I hadn't heard any expressions of disgust from the guys. Perhaps they all knew deep inside they might have gotten hard too under the circumstances. Perhaps they liked having an excuse to take a good long look at another hard cock, in very dark circumstances where no one else was likely to judge them for looking. Perhaps – "What're you waiting for, John? Let's go!" demanded Mike. I answered from above, "Let me get this straight. While I'm struggling to get through this narrow vertical squeeze, y'all pull my pants down so you can look at my pecker when you know there's nothing I can do to stop you. Then nature takes its course. And so now that I have another seven inches added to my profile, y'all expect me to get right on through? Do you expect me to fuck the cave wall?" Joe coughed, "Looks like at least eight to me, must be the angle." Tom suggested, "Ah shit, John, just concentrate on all those poor bats dying or something. Problem solved." I kept silent. I was sure there was now precum oozing down my circumcision scar. I heard Tom again, "So thinking about those dying bats makes your cock twitch?" This time I did reply, "Hey, I won't lie. Thanks to you I'm feeling pretty good. Y'all are cold. Looks like y'all are the ones with a problem not me. "Yeah well you're all dressed, no wonder you feel good. Just come back down and rub one out if it won't go away. We'll turn our lamps off for privacy," offered Mike. "So that's your suggestion? That in addition to embarrassing me by pulling my pants down and staring at my wiener while it's cold and shriveled in the cave, you think I should jack myself off in front of everyone? Despite everything I've told you about protecting the cave, you want me to shoot a wad all over it? I'd rather wait all night until I'm soft again..." Whispering followed. Was Joe also whispering? It was too hard to tell. It was almost as if the three were communicating though a combination of hushed words, gestures, and grunts. I interrupted, "and I better not have any wet spots on my pants when I finally get to check them." Silence. Then a warm mouth closed on my head. It did so with a sense of hesitancy. Did the mouth expect (or even hope for) a protest from me? Was the mouth a stranger to the taste of cock? Was my sack musk overpowering after the long-day's drive and the sweaty caving? What about the fingers unbuttoning my pants? Did they belong to the mouth? And when my pants were again down, the hands turned to my bootlaces. Was the same guy doing all this? If so, who was it? I cooperated by lifting my feet up one at a time so the boots and pants could be pulled off. I replanted my socked feet close together so that my inner thighs touched. I began to flex my glutes and quads to build heat and power. To show my silent appreciation, I swelled my cockhead, then released it, swelled it, and released it. The lips found their way beyond my glans, and left a slobbery film when retreating to the tip. Would one or all three of them describe me as an asshole later for forcing them to get me off? Perhaps. I never expected this blow job. I was certain they'd eventually just start having a very non-sexual conversation with me about sports, or money, or my volunteer work at the state park, or other deflating topics. Also, they could have simply suggested I come back down and we take a different route rather than assuming we had to proceed up the bend. But if they were into cock, why had there been such resistance to caving naked back in the car when they could have persuaded me and Joe to show ours too? Why had I never caught anyone looking at Tom's or Mike's dicks as we caved? Then I noticed a very faint cast of red light on the cave wall below me. Although there were no silhouettes that might have identified anyone, the presence of the light convinced me that whoever was nursing on my cock did not object to being watched by the others. I felt a pair of hands – strong hands just like men should have – palm the sides of my thighs and squeeze them. Each little hair growing down my crack and out of my calves seemed to stand at attention and come alive. The dim red hue went off. For the first time all evening, the four of us were in utter blackness. I wondered what it must be like to suck a cock you cannot see. I'm certain those guys online who are forced to suck cock blindfolded can always see at least a little light. The pace of sucking did pick up in the darkness – without observers, the cocksucker was free to act on his primal appetite for another man's seed. Did the void heighten his other senses? Could his tongue feel each vein? Even I could hear lip smacking so I knew the other two could. Was there a whiff of two-day old pussy juice in the creases of my sack? If so, did he recognize it or confuse it with piss or cheese? After all, I had been enjoying my bachelor weekend and had not showered after waking late this morning. For the first time I also heard a fist hammering balls – at a very quick clip. While the guy sucking me could be the one jerking off that would mean a second guy had his hands on my thighs (and sometimes my cheeks). More likely, one of the two observers was furiously pumping himself knowing he could be heard. If so, chances are the other observer was doing the same only more quietly. As I began to think of what might be going on just a few feet away beyond the rock ledge and through the darkness, my abs tightened and cum spasmed out of me. I had joked about not wanting to squirt in the cave ecosystem, but rationalized that doing so would be no worse than cavers spraying the walls with sneezed snot or coughed phlegm. But he kept his lips sealed as I unloaded. Or at least he tried to, but once or twice backed off to catch his breath and gulp a shot down. I heard a couple of footsteps, then quiet. Though still fluffed, my wet dick was finally pointing down. Rather than hoist myself up as expected, I lowered myself wearing only my helmet, shirt and socks. I could tell from the sounds of breath nearby that my three companions were now standing separately. I reached up and turned my red light on. This time I didn't avoid looking down. Tom and Mike were both hard, or nearly so. Mike looked harder, or at least longer and fuller than Tom. Tom also had those pendulous balls that probably hang loose no matter what the temperature or circumstances – you know the kind I mean where you see two distinct balls rather than just a scrotum. Mike also looked a little sheepish, but Tom just grinned. Joe was still dressed! This really confused me. I had let myself think he was the one jerking off while Tom or Mike sucked me. I had guessed Tom had to suck me for having started the whole incident, but then whoever sucked me had obviously gotten into it and Mike looked the most horned up. Maybe Joe had sucked me with his clothes on (though he seemed to be wearing long sleeves and I didn't recall feeling any sleeves against my thighs but did I really remember one way or the other?) and so Mike was the one I heard masturbating but he didn't finish? Hell, I really didn't know. Tom asked, "So now you come down? I thought the whole problem was that we had to go up through the bend." "It was a dead end," I lied. Joe called me out, "That's bullshit." "You'll never know because we are going to head back another way to make up for lost time. But Joe, now that you mention bullshit, I'll tell you what's bullshit. It's bullshit that you saw all of us naked but you're still dressed." He took a step back, "Look I'm just minding my own business..." "No, you look, you thought it was real funny when Tom pulled my pants off, so if you don't take your clothes off right now, I'll ask him to do the same to you while I stand around and laugh." Because Joe had already admitted he gone nude in public before, I knew he wasn't just being modest. So when he pulled his old jeans down, I could see why he had hesitated. He was just as hard as I had been and his dick had a pronounced curve that would probably have never shown while surfing or skinny dipping. The end of Joe's cock also appeared thicker than the base but I couldn't be sure. His balls were the size of white seedless grapes and simply couldn't compete for attention with the fleshy boomerang attached to them. "You can keep your boots," I told him while rebooting myself, "but put the rest in my pack. I'll lead. We've still got a stoopway and a crawl before we're done. But before we go there's one thing I have to take care of – I always have to piss after I cum." Joe bent over with straight legs, spreading nearly hairless ass cheeks at us, and straightened up with the piss bottle in his hand. It used to be my wide-mouth water bottle that fastened to my water filter pump, but I had upgraded to BPA free bottles and kept this one for urine. Joe unscrewed the wide cap and walked over. I reached out for it, but he reached for my penis and placed the head inside the mouth. I started to harden again, but not so hard I couldn't pee. It was a slightly painful piss as I blasted out some cum that had gotten stuck in my tubes and my dick head had grown into one side of the bottle. Joe's hardened knob curved onto my thigh as he stood close. I clasped my hands on top of my helmet, elbows wide, and tried to wring every drop from my bladder. Ah, it felt good to get it out of me. When the stream quietened down, Joe took his thumb and index finger and shook my dick like a gas pump nozzle before lowering the bottle. He screwed the cap back on and walked back to the pack. We four all walked on. The passages twisted and turned. Conversation had dropped off. A few feet before the stoopway I stopped. "This next section is only about 50 yards or so and mostly flat. The problem is that you walk with bent knees like you're in a dwarf house so you'll feel your muscles burn after a few seconds. I want you to cut your lights because with four headlamps shining ahead it creates too many shadows and makes it harder for my eyes to judge the way with my light. Also, stay close to the guy in front of you, sort of like a conga line. If the pace is too fast just say so and we'll all adjust our step so no one gets left behind or gets hurt trying to step on uneven surfaces, ok? Give yourself a good back stretch first. Joe, you go last in case there's a problem ok?" I knew Mike was immediately behind me as I reduced my height and set off. He dutifully placed his warm hands on my waist. If I had had a torch rather than a headlamp, my sense of playing caveman would have been complete except that every illustration I had seen showed cavemen wearing skins. The eight boot steps shuffling along made a loud commotion in the passageway. About a third of the way in, I heard Tom, "Slower..." I changed to half-steps. The toe of Mike's boot caught the heel of mine, but he instantly modified his step in line with mine. Tom tripped anyway, pushing Mike forward, "Slower!" Mike squeezed my hips to steady himself. I shifted to baby steps and within another yard, Mike frontside docked with my backside. He ran his hands up my back until they rested on each shoulder. Every second or third step I could feel Mike's cock just barely slap one of my cheeks as it jostled side to side. "Leg stretch, please!" cried Tom. I stopped, placed my hands on my knees, and slowly straightened my legs bringing my torso more parallel to the floor. Mike's arms weren't long enough to reach my shoulders in this position and I felt them slide to my lower back. Then he stepped close forward, crossed his forearms on my back as a pillow for his head, and rested his chest and belly on my back so he could straighten his own legs. I had no idea if this was how Tom or Joe were stretching their legs but I knew it would be a bad idea to ask, turn around, or shine the light behind me. At this point Mike's penis snuggled against my crack and buns. It felt soft, plump and warm like a bratwurst and I could hear and feel his breathing from the effort required to stay hunched over for so long. Because I didn't feel Mike's abs working to grind into me, I began to conclude that the slight rhythmic movement of his body into mine was being caused by Tom, or perhaps Joe. It was somewhat taboo and very exciting but the posture was just too restricted for me to say it felt good. Then Joe released his forearms, leaving the left side of face against my now sweating back, and reached under my chest where he ran his fingers through my body hair and played with my nipples. Mmmmm, maybe I was going to get hard again after all despite the stance. "Ok," moaned Tom, "ready." Mike peeled off my back and I returned to a 75 degree stoop for the last third. We all heard Joe from behind, "Faster! I gotta piss." We made it out so quickly without incident that it almost raised suspicions as to why the first two thirds took so long. Joe wasted no time in topping off the pee bottle. I enjoyed the changing sounds given off as his stream grew shorter and shorter due to the rising level inside the bottle. I couldn't help but wonder if Joe had the same urgent need to pee after ejaculating that I did – could he have cum in the stoopway? Tom looked up as high as he could, "Damn, I wish I could do a full backbend right now. That was tough." Mike empathized, "We're just getting old buddy." "Maybe, but that was one place where old-age osteoporosis and a hunchback would come in handy." Classic Tom. "Well I'm going second next time so I can get out quicker." The next half hour was much kinder to our spines and quadriceps. But all too soon we reached the crawl that would almost complete our trip. "This last section is like a paper towel tube. There are no left or right turns, the only option is straight ahead. It's the size of one of those large concrete pipes that drain ditches under driveways so we have to go on all fours. Joe has kneepads for everyone in my pack. Since you can't get lost or fall in a hole or bump your head, we're going to do this one in total darkness to really appreciate what being underground is all about. This is something you can never experience at the state park, Hades Hole, Donkey Den or Holy Belowlands. No conga line this time, just take your time. If you get achy, then do some pushups to straighten out. If you need help, yell, otherwise we'll keep quiet and you can stop whenever you want. Any questions?" "How far?" was the only one. "About like the stoopway but it'll probably take longer. When we reach the end I am going to sit beside the exit and listen for you to come out. When I tap you three times it means you're out so you can go a few more feet and then sit or stand and wait for everyone but keep your light off and keep quiet. Joe, when I tap you three times you turn your light on when you're ready and we'll know we're done ok?" I adjusted the knee pads that were passed to me. "Get close to the hole then lights out." I was a baby learning to crawl. Sure I knew how to crawl. I knew this passage. But going blind always take getting reoriented. Crawling nude made me all the more babylike. A lot of my coworkers in the office would panic or suffer an anxiety attack in these circumstances. I wondered what made me different from them. What motivated me to seek out experiences like this? But was I really any different than people who get their adrenaline kicks skydiving, or scuba diving, buying stocks, or finding the best bargain at the mall? Maybe I wasn't scared of cave chimneys, but there were plenty of other fears that kept me in my routines. When I stopped crawling and listened to the silence, good memories of past cave trips came to mind, 'This planet is fucking amazing' I reminded myself. And so was the sudden sensation of breath on my asshole. I began to crawl slowly but the breath followed. That was no accidental exhale. Tom had to be blowing on my sphincter. For a moment I feared that perhaps my anus stank and he was trying to manage his bad luck. But if that was the case why did he stay so close to it? So I paused my crawling once more. His wrists soon brushed against my calves and his long nose crashed into my crack until my body stopped him in his tracks. I know some guys complain their wives or girlfriends won't do certain things. Well mine still sucks me, likes to get butt fucked, and sometimes we lie in bed together masturbating ourselves while watching stupid movies. But not once has she ever had her mouth near my butthole. I'm not complaining. How can I? I don't lick hers either. But Tom was...well, how else to put it except...nasty. The same health freak who runs wearing organic food propaganda was now rooting his nose in my crack like a hog after truffles. Tap water had too many chemicals for his tastes, but not the squish from my hole? He had no idea when I last shit or showered. How could he do that? I reckoned he could have care less about going home with Mike or stopping to pay for gas on the way home tonight with his face smelling like man ass? His technique reminded me of the way I ate pussy after I had known the woman for a few years. It lacked that frantic enthusiasm associated with early dating or a honeymoon. It was slow and steady. And silent. Mike had not yet bumped into Tom as far as I could tell. Or was there a daisy chain of analingus going on behind me? I'm no yogi but I began to flex and bow my spine, lifting and lowering my crack up and down on his mouth and nose. He seemed to enjoy the pushback from me because I could feel his tongue stiffen some and probe me. I wasn't even hard, just incredibly relaxed, like when I got massaged on a vacation. How could Tom ever face me at the end of this tunnel when we turned the lights on, much less at run club on Tuesday nights? What the hell could I say to a guy after I had lapped at his hairy shithole? Did my hairy crack remind him of a pussy he had eaten in high school before everyone (according to him at least) starting shaving their pubes? Otherwise it made no sense to me that he had avoided sexualizing the night early on. But he had pulled my pants down to see me. But then he didn't want to touch me too much or get me off. Or so he acted. And shit, was he with Mike or not? Had they at least gotten drunk once or twice and fucked each other? Oooooooooo, that felt good. I felt some weekend stubble as his chin kneaded my crack. Then the top of his head prodded my butt forward like one mountain goat might to another. I began to crawl slowly forward. Why? Was he about to vomit? Were we holding up traffic? I might know a few things about caves but when it came to the people I shared this fucking amazing planet with, I was really in the dark about so much. Geology was simpler than psychology. White-Nose Syndrome I drew Tom beside me when he exited the tube. Mike soon emerged in the dark to join us. Then Joe. Then – The sudden light from Joe's helmet signaled the end of one of the wildest yet satisfying cave expeditions of my life. Knowing we had reached our last chamber before the climb up beside the waterfall, my curiosity over who had eaten my cum (or most of it anyway) finally got the best of me, "Since what happens in the cave, stays in the cave, I would like to pay my compliments to the rescuer who released me from my predicament earlier. Please step forward." No one flinched. I asked, "How do you know that I don't already know who it was?" Mike ridiculed me, "Because you wouldn't be asking in a roundabout way." Tom followed sarcastically, "How do you know we didn't take turns? Maybe we all needed some hot cock to keep warm in here." Joe quizzed me, "Would you believe me if I told you I turned around and never saw a thing and don't know what you're talking about?" "Forget it," Mike told me, "We're sworn to secrecy." "Alright, alright," I conceded. "Have it your way then. Just please turn your lamps off for a second so we don't confuse the wildlife as we're leaving." As soon as they switched off their headlamps, I adjusted mine (a more expensive model) to its black light setting. "See boys, this is another reason why it pays to have the right equipment when caving!" The glowing semen splatter pattern on Mike's right pectoral muscle resembled a gunshot wound. Tom carried two streaks of dried cum just above each knee and what looked very much like a smear of cum on the left thigh. Joe's spooge had clumped in his pubes like boogers. I alone was stain (and glow) free. And one of the three also sported a few luminous globs on the left side of his nose. I looked at him, both of us still laughing nervously with teeth frightened bright white by the black light, and shook his hand.