This is a true story, taking place in the early 1990's. After originally meeting over the phone, Andrew and I decided to meet in person over Memorial Day weekend in 1990. Overcoming insurmountable odds, our long distance relationship was no more, as Andrew found work at the company where I worked at the start of 1991. Although our first year together as a closeted gay couple was one of extremes, we emerged most unscathed, and began 1992 still living together as one, still very much in love.
Please feel free to contact me, Austin T. Charles at austintc@aol.com I appreciate all feedback on my story!
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Austin and Andrew, Chapter 13
The bar was jam packed, just like most of the bars were on any given New Year's Eve. The heat generated by the lights above the dance floor as well as the sweaty bodies on the floor itself, many of them shirtless, added to the ambience that consisted of a concoction of cologne, cigarette smoke, and pure pheromones that swirled about the bar. The eclectic mixed crowd of gay, straight, bi men and women was truly one to behold, and both Andrew and I were mesmerized by the pulse that radiated through the crowd. We had made plans in mid-December of '91 to be at the gay bar in Madison, Wisconsin on New Year's Eve, knowing that the eye candy would only serve to fuel the passion that still was burning inside us even after our relationship had reached the year and a half mark. After all, I was in the last year of my twenties; Andrew would turn twenty four in September.
We had rented a hotel room on the southwest side of the city, which meant that we would not have to make the hour drive back to Rockford either after we'd had our fill of partying or the bar closed, whichever came first. As we embraced and rang in the new year locked in a deep sensuous kiss on the dance floor, both of us were certain that 1992 was going to be our year: one of travel, career success, and a continuous celebration of the love we had for each other. The year would prove to be all that and an unexpected twist near the end of the year.
We had been spending almost one or two Saturdays in Madison per month, and those trips usually equated to the same number of nights at the bar as well. To call us regulars would have been stretching the truth a little, as we hardly ever drank alcohol there. Andrew didn't drink at all, and since my alcoholic fueled depression in the summer and fall of the previous year, I was careful to have more than just one drink if I drank at all when we went to the bar. Mostly we just went to dance, be ourselves -- feeling free to hold hands, hug, and kiss each other without being labeled or judged while we were in the bar. It was a freedom we longed for but knew we could never experience at home in Rockford, even at the only gay bar in town. Oddly enough, I had always feared seeing someone who would know me at the bar in Rockford and coming out was the last thing either of us wanted to do. It was another good reason to make the hour trip twice a month to the city that both of us came to love.
We began to recognize some of the regulars at the bar, and even had names for them. One guy in particular always walked around shirtless showing off his extremely muscular body. We called him the shirtless muscle man and figured that probably had a cock that was huge. Judging by the way he filled out his tight Levi's, our assumption probably wasn't far from the truth. We had figured that since he was always talking to everyone in the bar, he had probably DONE everyone in the bar, making him one guy that we'd stay away from for sure. But he was sure nice to look at, without a doubt, just as many other barely legal college boys were. That was the beauty of a gay bar in a college town: always a fresh new crop of hot young guys coming to the bar every fall, and sometimes on a weekly basis. Secretly I am sure that the both of us lusted after any of those hot boys, (I know I surely did) but because we were in a committed relationship that was built on being monogamous and true to each other, we had not acted on the lust that I am sure raged through both of us when those scantily clad testosterone fueled boys danced across the floor.
What effect it did have on us was always expressed in our lovemaking in bed. That particular early New Year's day as we finally returned to the hotel was a perfect example. Just like many times before, we started in the shower, kissing, licking, touching, washing, sucking, and sometimes fucking each other in the warm waters that cascaded down from the shower head. More times than not, I preferred to receive rather than give, as feeling him on top of me was all I needed to crave his cock playing and teasing my quivering hole, satisfied only as he stroked and touched the part of me that needed to feel him. It usually started with him on top kissing me, feeling his growing member against my already rock hard cock. I would gladly kiss my way down his chest, sucking on each of his erect nipples long enough for him to be turned on, and make his way to hover over my head which was propped up by a pillow. As his hard, hot pulsating cock was now a mere inch from my face, I gladly opened my mouth take him in as far as he dared to go. I loved getting him near the edge, only to encourage him to come back to being on top of me, his saliva slickened cock now touching my throbbing erection. With my hand, I would guide him to the quivering hole, and would eagerly relax enough to let him in, pleasuring me in the way that only my lover could do. He would usually spray his load deep in my bowels, then gladly suck me until my own load was in his stomach. Never before had I felt so satisfied by his oral talents which left me writhing in pleasure; my toes curling and feet quivering in an orgasm that seemed to last forever. We fell asleep in each other's arms, just as we had always done in the past, waking up to shower and leaving the hotel just before we got charged for another night.
Throughout the spring we kept the same practice of going to Madison at least twice a month. It seemed we never tired of making the trip. Most of the time we took my truck, which by now was getting quite a few miles making all the trips we'd made since we'd been together. When we weren't going to the bar, we spent weekends at home, either working out, or me doing homework. Yes, doing homework. I had decided to take an Intro to Microcomputers class, which back in the early 90's was a lot different than it is today. With Andrew's coaxing and tutoring, I actually started something and finished it, earning my very first A in a college course at the local community college. I had considered continuing on, but my mind still had other things in mind, mainly enjoying being with my lover.
As we had discussed in the prior year after making our trip to Yellowstone, Spokane, and Glacier, we both desperately wanted to visit Seattle. In early March, I had found a travel magazine that had a post card to send to the Washington State Bureau of Travel to get information about the state. The publication was titled "Destination Washington", so on our small chalkboard where we left messages for each other, I wrote the title, along with a countdown of days until the third week of June, when we had scheduled our two week trip to the Pacific Northwest. We had purchased tickets to fly right out of the regional airport in Rockford, which took us to Chicago O'Hare, where we transferred planes, then had a non-stop flight to Sea-Tac International airport in Seattle.
Leading up to the vacation, we had purchased backpacking gear, including a small two man tent, sleeping bags, a lantern, a stove, backpacks, cookware, hiking boots and other gear that would help us to dive headfirst into backpacking. We were both incredibly stoked to make the trip, and finally the day had arrived for us to leave for Seattle. The four hour flight to Seattle seemed to take forever, but as we gathered our baggage and got the rental car, our dream had finally become a reality
Our first day in Seattle was magical. We walked around the city as tourists, amazed at the sights of the city, Elliott Bay, the Space Needle, Mount Rainier, and everything related to the Pacific Northwest, including the diverse groups of people living in Seattle. We took in a Mariner's game in the old Kingdome, meandered about the ethnic areas of town, ate seafood, drank Starbucks coffee, watched fish being thrown at the Pike Place Fish Market, and rode the Monorail. A day or two later we left for the peninsula and headed to Port Angeles, where we packed up our backpacking gear in the motel and headed out for the Hoh River Rainforest the following morning. Arriving in the afternoon, of course it was raining just like it always does in the rainforest. I still remember getting out of the car in the light, steady rain thinking to myself "is this what we signed up for?" It was then that we both realized that we did not think about buying a raincoat or a cover for our backpacks. Since it was early afternoon and we truly needed to start hiking, I approached another group of hikers and asked them if we could have two garbage bags to use as covers. Thankfully, they obliged.
That first rainy day, we hiked nine miles through some of the most beautiful forests I've ever seen in my entire life. A mile or so into the hike, our shoes and socks were soaked. A few miles later, we met two park rangers who were about our age. They warned us about possibly seeing wildcats and cougars. Several miles later, we saw a hug Sitka Spruce tree that had to be at least twenty five feed wide at its base. Looking at the picture of Andrew in front of that tree today, thirty years later, I am reminded just how wide the tree was. Absolutely amazing, indeed. As we continued hiking, the rain did not stop. Finally, as we reached the first campsite for the night, we set up the tent in the omnipresent drizzle, Had Ramen in the tent, then packed all our food into a garbage bag, tied a forty foot long rope to the bag and threw it up over the bear wire, which was strung between two trees about twenty feet in the air. This was absolutely necessary to keep bears or other animals out of our tent. We tried to dry our socks over the heat of the gas powered lantern inside the tent, but to no avail. Thankfully, our sleeping bags were dry, and the sound of the rushing waters of the Hoh River that was only about thirty feet from the tent provided the perfect backdrop for a restful night of sleep. The following day we only hiked five miles, as most of the terrain was uphill. Once we made it to another base camp, we then day hiked the steep trail as far as we could go which was close to the snow line of Mount Olympus. We almost made it to the glacier fields, but a stubborn huge white mountain goat would not give up the trail, and after we made every effort to shoo him away from the trail, he started walking towards us, so we turned around and ran close to fifty feet in fear of him still chasing us. Thankfully, he stopped and went about his way.
The next day we hiked the entire fourteen miles back to the car. Our feet ached, we stunk, but both agreed that we were hooked. That first backpacking experience in Olympic National Park was the first of several for me. Before leaving the Hoh River Rainforest area of the park, we put on dry shoes and took the short interpretive, paved hike around the visitor's area. This area showcased some of the huge trees we'd seen on the trail, and at one point, came to a small wooden bridge that crossed over a crystal clear creek. It was so ironic and bizarre to have a déjà vu moment on that bridge, as it was that very bridge that I vividly recalled being in my dream back before Andrew and I found out that we would soon be living together when he got his job in Rockford.
We had planned to take a break one night in the motel, which we did in the small town of Forks, Washington. After soaking in the tub and showering separately, we celebrated our vacation by giving each other massages and of course our usual bedtime fun. The following day we left for a part of the park that was located on the coast. Once again, we loaded our packs for one night out on the beach. This time we only hike a couple of miles, stopped by the rising tide and the fading daylight. We settled on an area near some driftwood and set up the tent. Shortly after the tent was set up, a young man who appeared to be around twenty or so just walked up out of nowhere asking us if we knew when the next high tide would be. Since I had a tide schedule, I told him when it would be, and he then walked away, but not before we invited him to come back later if he wanted to. Of course, our evil minds conjured up a three-way scenario that never did materialize, but it was fun to think about anyway.
The following day we packed up and headed back to Port Angeles, and caught a ferry to Vancouver Island, in Canada. We found a hotel, then left the room to check out the nightlife. Andrew had bought a book that listed all of the gay bars and gay friendly places in the States and Canada. Checking out the bars in Victoria, it listed a few places to go, so after going to a straight bar to have a few Labatt's Blue beers, I was feeling no pain and was ready for fun. There were two other guys in the bar that kept looking at us, and after they left, we left too. The next bar was a gay bar, and they were there. Either being shy or not interested, we didn't talk to them but enjoyed dancing until bar time. The next day we did some sightseeing around Victoria, then took a ferry boat north from a port on the island that took us to Vancouver, the city. We had heard it was a cool place, but perhaps we really didn't find the places so described. Not really seeing anything interesting, we left the next morning, returned to the states, and drove down to Portland, Oregon.
Downtown Portland was different. There were a lot of homeless and strange people on the streets, and we tried to find a gay bar, which we finally did. It wasn't really what we'd hoped for, so we left the downtown and headed back to the hotel. Perhaps if we'd been able to see the town in the daylight, we might have had a better experience. Our trip was now winding down, so we spent a night camping and a day hiking on Mount Rainier, then headed back to Seattle, where we found the gay community that included bars, and a few gay bookstores. With mere hours left before departing Seattle the next afternoon, we dined along the waterfront in one of the seafood restaurants located on the Piers. We both agreed that Seattle would always hold a place in our hearts as one of the best places in the United States. We also vowed that we would return to Seattle the following year.
The remainder of the summer of 1992 was pretty much low-key after the trip to Seattle. My father had decided to start doing lawn work, as there were new housing developments going in all around the area where my parents lived in South Beloit. Of course, he recruited me to help, so I began to spend more time away from Andrew. Thankfully, we didn't have a lot of work, but just enough to provide me with some extra spending money, which was something I desperately needed.
I did enjoy landscaping, and it was fun to get out and get my hands dirty every once in a while. The skills I learned from my six years on the grounds crew certainly helped, and even to this day I find landscaping and gardening to be one of my passions, just something that I can never seem to have enough time to do. Through the rigors of our daily jobs and my part time work, we kept busy, but still found time to head to Madison or Chicago to satisfy our lifestyle cravings.
Although we were both content to live our closeted, gay lives in our conservative hometown of Rockford, we had now become quite acclimated to the scene in Chicago and enjoyed going to the bars along the strip in Boystown, and always enjoyed going to the bar in Madison. Despite the temptations found in those two liberal cities, what stayed consistent was that we were still a couple and had not cheated on each other. I was committed to him, and I to the best of my knowledge, he was committed to me.
Once again fall arrived in the Midwest. The part time landscaping business came to a close. Andrew and I were still making our weekend trips, especially to Ontario, where we had met in May of 1990. Fall was a special time of year in the Kickapoo River Valley, as the fall colors were always brilliant. We retraced our steps to the lookout point in Wildcat Mountain where we'd talked for hours about our lives at that point, wondering if we ever would jump headfirst into the lifestyle would we be able to climb back up to live the straight life again. Content that would be a climb neither of us would probably ever make, we reminisced about our life together at that point, over two years later. It was amazing to think that we had indeed pulled off the ultimate plan of being together, and still marveled at that possibility and the odds that we overcame to be there that day looking out over the fall beauty that God truly painted, seemingly just for our enjoyment. As usual, the day trip was celebrated with a trip that evening to the bar in Madison, just like we'd done several other times that year. As we had started the year, we spent the night in the same hotel as we'd done New Year's eve. With the end of October only a month away, we made plans to return for Halloween.
Halloween was also a reprise of New Years Eve; the only difference was the number of guys in cute costumes. They fueled our passion, which of course led to an awesome early morning of passionate lovemaking in the hotel room. We were happy, content, and relaxed as October ended and November began.
As the grey November skies ushered in a change in the weather, the cold, cloudy days that would be followed by snow and the gathering gloom of winter's arrival, little did we know that the change in the weather would parallel a challenge to our otherwise tranquil, committed, and loving relationship.
The day before Thanksgiving arrived, and everyone was looking forward to the four day weekend. Andrew would be going home to his parent's house in Minnesota; I would be going to my Aunt's house that was located about five miles from our apartment. With anticipation, I headed off to work that day, where something very odd occurred. I had opened up a box to help the receiving inspection guy, and something either bit me or I scratched myself on something and before I knew it, my hand itched, started to get swollen, and as I looked down at my arm, a red line was beginning to form, heading from my hand to my elbow. I had heard that if this were to happen, there was a bad infection starting, and if it got to my heart, it could send me directly to the hospital immediately. Luckily, we had a medical department in house, so the nurse and doctor quickly took a look at my arm, gave me some medicine, and sent me home. I was told to stay home and rest, and if it got worse, to go to the hospital. When I showed Andrew, he freaked and told me that he would stay home. I told him that he needed to leave for Minnesota and that I would be okay. He reluctantly agreed, wished me well as we said our goodbyes and said that he'd see me Tuesday evening as he had planned to stay a few extra days with his family. Strangely, his leaving reminded me so much of the days before he moved to Rockford. Old memories are not always pleasant.
I woke up Thursday morning and my hand and arm were fine. The swelling had gone down, and the red line had disappeared. I returned back home after dinner with my family, which felt so odd now that my grandmother had been gone for over a year. This of course, was before the internet, so I basically laid around watching television and tried to enjoy being home alone for once.
Friday morning came, I slept in, and really didn't have much to do. Hitting the malls for the post-Thanksgiving day sales did not interest me at all, since my first job was in retail. I think I despised any sort of shopping after leaving retail, including holiday shopping. In this age of Amazon, we tend to forget just how much of a pain it was going to the mall, save looking at the cute guys that were chasing after the cute girls, of course.
By Friday evening I had completely recovered from my wound I suffered at work. The symptoms I had felt Wednesday at work had completely dissipated. I was bored and did not feel like staying at home. It was around seven thirty or eight pm when I made the decision to go out. Little did I know then that it was a decision that would send our relationship down a tumultuous path.
I missed Andrew. We pretty much had spent most of our time together, going places together, dining together, shopping together, traveling together. I had lost touch with most of my close straight friends except for my best friend David, who lived an hour away in the home of Northern Illinois University, Dekalb, Illinois. Initially, I had thought about going to see David. In fact, I did call him, but got no answer. So as I got dressed in a nice flannel shirt with one of my best pairs of Levi's, a douse of Calvin Klein Eternity cologne, I was backing out of the driveway in my truck ready to go somewhere. I was literally at a crossroads intersection, unsure of which direction to go. I could go to the right and either check out the bar in Rockford, which we had not yet visited, or go to Chicago. I could go left and, in an hour, or so be in "our" beloved Madison. I approached the intersection and decided to go left. Madison it would be. Initially, I had contemplated going to the casino in the Wisconsin Dells, which was an hour and a half drive from home, but the yearning to find something greater than money took me to downtown Madison, on the near west side, parking my truck across the street from the bar, and around nine or nine-thirty pm, I walked up the stairs to the bouncer at the door, gave him my money for the cover charge, checked my black leather jacket with the cute boy at the coat area, got my ticket and went in.
The bar was not yet busy. I got a coke from the bar, pulled up a chair and listened to the music while people kept coming in. The regulars were there, along with a few new cute faces. I had been there about two hours and decided to mingle in with the crowd. There were cute young guys on the dance floor, several were walking around the bar, and were just having a good time. I wanted desperately to approach several of the cute ones but lacked the self-confidence to even say hello when they passed by me. Perhaps it was more than just self-confidence. It may have been the waning desire to stay true to my lover of over two years. I really cannot say. But as I moved from the upstairs to the downstairs lobby area, I noticed that I was being followed. Suddenly as I turned around to go back to the dance floor, he was there.
Damn, was he cute. Short, dark curly hair, designer glasses, a small, waifish frame, in essence the gay boy of my dreams. I immediately became infatuated with him. Our eyes met, he smiled, I smiled and just like that I introduced myself to him, him to me, and the next thing I knew, we were sitting at a table talking.
Josh had just recently moved to Madison from the east coast. He was only twenty one years old and had a cute accent. Since I had always been attracted to younger thin guys who were a little shorter than me, I could not think of anything or anyone but him. I had one goal in mind, one that most gay guys think about: getting this cute guy in bed. We continued talking until almost up to bar time. Up until that time I had not mentioned anything to him about Andrew. It was now time to leave the bar, and as we walked out into the cool November air, Josh invited me to a diner so we could continue talking. The more we talked, the more I liked him. It was now close to almost four in the morning, and there was still an hour's drive ahead of me. So as much as I didn't want to leave him, I had to return home to Illinois. We exchanged phone numbers and agreed to get together again Saturday night. The ride home was tough. I was extremely exhausted, but still had one goal in mind: to one way or another sleep with Josh before Andrew got home. I arrived home about five am, and just after I showered, I got a call. It was Josh, and he let me know that he enjoyed meeting me. I told him that I had enjoyed meeting him as well. We talked for a few more minutes before I drifted off to sleep.
I slept until early afternoon on Saturday. I woke up rock hard, naked in the middle of our queen-sized waterbed. My waking thoughts were about meeting Josh, and how I couldn't wait to get back to Madison to be with him.
I arrived back in Madison at Josh's place around seven pm. We had agreed to eat something at his place, which consisted of a rented room in a townhouse-style apartment. He had a nice big room on the southwest corner of the building on the second floor. As we ate the spaghetti noodles and some sort of sauce, we watched TV in his room. We decided to then go a see a movie, of which I cannot even come close to remembering. What I do remember was our hands intertwined between us and being hard most of the time during the movie. Once the movie was over, we stopped at Woodman's grocery store, got some ice cream, and then headed back to his place.
Now sitting cross-legged on his bed, we each had a bowl of ice cream while watching typical Saturday night shows for 1992. I wanted him bad, but for some reason couldn't step up to the plate and take what I wanted. Josh sensed this and as he took my empty ice cream bowl and set it on his dresser, he leaned into me and told me he liked me, and soon our lips met.
He was an excellent kisser. I was so horny and wanted him so bad, but instead of going with my desires and ripping his clothes off, I followed his lead. His hands found my shirt, took it off. The first time his fingers touched my skin, I almost came right there. My hands did the same, touching his smooth, soft hairless skin. My fingers found his taut nipples and squeezed them gently, causing him to moan. Before long, our shirts were off, and next our jeans came off. He was wearing a pair of black bikini underwear; I was wearing a pair of black CK briefs, my cock was straining for relief, just as his was. He laid me on my back, pulled my briefs off revealing my wet, rock hard erection. As I pulled down his bikini briefs, I must have gasped. For a small guy, he had a huge cock. It must have been close to eight, thick inches, a groomed patch of pubes, with a hairless nut sack that contained two very nice sized nuts. Almost immediately, he started sucking me, tasting my precum that was now flowing freely as it always did when I got this turned on. We had talked about safe sex, which in the early 90's was necessary, but after sucking me for almost ten minutes, he moved to straddle me, and suddenly he let my hard cock impale his waiting hole. Being inside him felt so good and I was afraid fucking him bareback would cause me to explode any second. Finally, before I was close to exploding, he pulled off my cock and I pulled him to me, taking his big dick as far as possible into my eager mouth. Unlike Andrew, Josh's cock leaked as much precum as mine, which I loved feeling in my mouth and tongue.
We were both about to explode. Now laying next to each other and jacking ourselves, I exploded first, spraying a small pool of cum onto my belly and chest. Josh warned me to back away, that he always shot a large load, quite far each time.
And he did. Almost hitting his neck, the spurts and spasms coating his chest. I wanted to lick the cum off his chest, but he stopped me before I could. "Not until we're both tested and get a negative test," he advised me. That seemed fair, so we just laid next to each other for several minutes before he invited me to shower with him. After showering, he invited me to stay the night, and I accepted his offer. As we drifted off to sleep, naked, next to each other, my mind was far away from Rockford, and even farther away from Andrew.