Harvard Comes To Montana

"Harvard Comes To Montana" - Chapter Sixteen

Hi, Men;

Well, when it rains, it pours. The ink's still wet on 15, and along comes 16. I'm gonna attribute it to the right Spotify playlist, lots of iced tea, and maybe one (or three) Reese's Peanut Butter Cups.

Guys, your responses to this work have been fortifying for me. Winters give me all kinds of Seasonal Blues, and the job suddenly going South has been a challenge, too. Sharing Jeff's story with you has been the antidote for a bad mood. Thank you for reading, and thank you for sending me emails to tell me what you like, and what I need further work on. It's a common misconception that writers write because they have to. Nope. Writers write to be read. If I'm not giving you something you want, you'll stop reading, and I'll go back to wallowing in despair over gray skies, the world condition, and bad restaurant servers who think they deserve a minimum of a 20% tip for handing me a menu.

I was asked about any other stories I have published. I have one chapter up of a story entitled, `Seduced By The Sea'. Not at all the same tone, definitely not on the fertile prairies of Montana, and no big steer or tiny newborn puppies. I will be adding to that story, too.

For now: I hope you'll enjoy Chapter Sixteen of "Harvard Comes To Montana"

Griz

*** The following story is a work of erotic fiction. If you are under the age of 18 or if this type of fiction is prohibited in the location where you are reading this, do not read any further.

All characters and names are creations of the author. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Please show your support for Nifty, a great organization that gives opportunities to all types of authors to express themselves. To find out how you can contribute, go to donate.nifty.org/donate.html ***

`Bring your toothbrush', he said.

Casually. The way your grandmother would remind you to take your hat and mittens with you when you went outside to play in the snow. When Marc called my phone, I was thinking of the three or four things I needed to do before sleeping. Check on Sebastian. Bring the horses back in for the night. Feed the chickens. Another check-in with The Canine Crowd. All that still needed to be done. Our animals are not tools; we are responsible for them and their welfare. Driving into town at Mach Three was not a responsibility. At least, not within the next sixty minutes.

I sent Marc a text, outlining the chores remaining on my agenda for the night. He responded with a smiley face. Whew, okay.....he didn't say, oh, well; I see how it is. Sebastian and your horse come first, YET AGAIN.....' I wasn't really worried about his reaction; he knew within minutes of meeting me what my life was like, and he only grew to know more of it as he visited our farm, met my family and animals, and continued to text and talk with me. If he had any remaining questions about the Mysteries of Agro Life, the sooner he asked, the better. Otherwise, he'll have to observe and resolve them in future. Either way, I wanted to answer him now or demonstrate later. It's all still a win', as I saw it.

I changed my walking direction and headed for the little pasture. Sebby, Bolt and Stan were still there. To speed the process, I grabbed the oat pan and filled it. Once they hear the rustle of the hulls, they'll come faster to me than if I go to them. When I reached the gate, I shook it gently, and within a minute or so, both Bolt and Stan came right to me at a trot. I connected the leads to their hackamores and tied them to the fence while we waited for Sebastian The Wonder Steer to deign us with his presence.

I think I felt him before I saw him. When Sebby runs, Creation gets out of his way. He's a fully-loaded 747 that takes the entire length of the runway to slow down and stop. He managed to slow to a walk by the time he got to me. I pulled the carrot out of my jeans and parked it on top of the oats for him, and all four of us walked back toward the barn. Sebby would be in the corral for the night. If he and I were going to State, I wanted to do what I could to keep his hide in pristine condition and away from barbed wire fencing.

Lola Cola watched with interest as Bolt and Stan were returned to their sentinel positions on either side of her stall. Her tail wagged, and both horses looked down on her with curiosity about her condition. Their velvet-soft noses were sniffing intently in Lola Cola's direction. No doubt they could smell anesthetic and antiseptic residue. OC was right there with the rest of us, observing from the straw bale again. I'd like to think he was prescient enough to know Lola Cola needed space to heal from surgery.

Whatever the reason, OC stayed right where he could see everything, and help if possible and necessary. He brushed against me, either to acknowledge my presence as Co-Uncle, or to put the lug on me for another duck heart. I got the former, he got the latter. Fresh water for all the mammals before bed, and as I finished that, Anders walked toward the barn.

"I can finish up here. You need to go get cleaned up."

"Oh, thanks, Big Brother. What do you mean, I `need to go get cleaned up'?"

"You can't go see Mac Tricycle looking and smelling like that."

"What do you know about where I'm going or what I'm doing?!"

"I know everything. So does Mom. So do the chickens, which I'll also take care of. In your teenaged hormonal delirium, you answered the call and put the conversation on Speaker. Your phone was so loud, I'd bet your boyfriend was able to hear himself and you, all the way from where he was calling."

"Fuck....."

"No doubt! That's why you should get cleaned up. Even if you do something other than `what you said', you should still shower. You smell like grilled chicken."

"NOT HELPING, Anders! Oh, my gosh.....is Mom mad??"

"Well, she's not exactly happy right now. When she and I were walking ahead of you, almost into the house, she was taking out an earring. We heard your conversation and started laughing so hard, she dropped the earring. We don't know where it is."

"IS THERE NO PRIVACY ON A FARM??!"

"For only you and thanks to you: nope. Marc made the bed; now you go lie in it. Or.....more accurately, `get laid in it'......heh!"

"You finally got his name right. I'll be danged."

"Just make sure YOU get his name right. Don't call out someone else while you're.....well, you know."

"Dick! Such a dick is my big brother! Do I really smell like grilled chicken?"

"Yes. Please; go shower, if only for my sake. No towels in the barn bathroom, though.....fyi."

"Okay, yeah. So, this is a big thing, Anders. We kinda got here faster than I expected."

"You mean with Marc? You can't put a timeframe on this stuff. When you're paired up, you're paired up. We can all tell this isn't just you and some tourist getting your rocks off together."

"Seriously? Are we that obvious?"

"Well, to those who know and love you guys, yeah. Maybe we see it because we want to see it; something good to happen for you. I've been away for awhile, but even I know this is something completely new for you. Have you ever even dated?"

"Yeah, briefly; Lori McCafferty, for about six months."

"So it took you only six months to figure out you bat for the other team?"

"No, I've always known I'm gay. For awhile, though, I was exploring my bi side. I was hoping her brother Lance would explore his bi side, too; and that Lori could hook us up."

"My little brother is such a pig! Holy fuck! HAHAHAHAHA!!!"

"Heh.....not really. Neither Lori nor I were serious. Well, not about each other. We were convenient sex. Just exercise outside of P.E. class. We're still friends, but the fuck-buddy aspect ended when we were both Sophomores."

"Wait-----you were fucking when you were fourteen years old?!"

"Well, yeah; I didn't exactly need to study, and I was bored. Had to do something after school while waiting for the bus. Didn't have a driver's license yet."

"Damn. Can't trust a teenager with driving a car, but he has free reign to launch his heat-seeking moisture missile, and on school property....."

"Okay, don't EVER say that again. EWWWW! Anders! Geez!"

"WHAAT?? Don't you have a shower to go take??"

"Yeah. I do. Thanks, and thanks for handling the rest of the chores."

"It's fine. Mom and I like your guy. Eva does, too. I feel obligated to remind you: you're in control of what you do with your own body. No means NO. Be safe. And call me if you're at all impaired and can't drive, or if you're in danger. And I'm serious about all that, Jozef."

"Wow.....I want to have a smart-assed response, but not now. Thanks. I take that and you seriously. You know where I'll be and who I'll be with. What time are we starting tomorrow?"

"I have no idea; the trucks aren't here from Great Falls. Even if they get here tonight, we won't begin cutting until probably 8:00AM. I'd say you shouldn't feel rushed, but I also know you'll rush anyway. This is your first harvest without Dad."

"It is. I'll back by 6:00. So you really think I'm paired up?"

"I think there's a really good chance of it. You seem to like each other and respect each other, too. Genuinely. You have fun in your conversations. And you just kinda look right together. Like.....I dunno.....you just `fit'. The rest of us can see it."

"Really."

"Yeah, really."

"Thank you. I love that. And if you really believe that, go to the other bathroom upstairs, close the door behind you, turn on the light and look in the mirror. Then repeat to yourself what you just told me, Aleksy."

My brother looked at me wide-eyed, like he was now finally privy to his own secret. I smiled and pulled him into a tight hug, which we held for a moment or two. When we released, I held his face in my hands and leaned forward to give him a kiss. The expression was nothing unusual in our house. My dad kissed my uncles, everyone kissed us boys, and it's just.....right.

I honestly don't know if we'd ever been as close as at that moment. I felt that the conversation we'd just had was proof probably neither of us really needed, but enjoyed, that our depth of communication would only continue to serve us well as brothers and business partners. I hoped Anders would consider his own words. He's a good man, obviously a good farmer and brother, and even after all that, he's more than capable of having time and space for his own family. I don't believe Eva would need too much convincing of that, either.

Anders gave me a half-hour reprieve from my chores, so I took extra time in the shower. I scrubbed like Joan Crawford on the floor of the kids' bathroom (I love that movie!). Dad had on-demand water heaters installed all over the place, and damn, was it ever a good idea. Or a good luxury. Whatever, at that moment, I was covering every square millimeter of my body with a bar of Life Buoy and a sponge. I like the smell of `Farm', but this was my first evening with Marc. If I was going to smell all hot and sweaty, I wanted it to be at 6:00AM tomorrow----not 9:00PM tonight.

Note to self: Haircut. With August comes the heat, and I didn't want it sitting on top of me from dawn `til dusk. Otherwise, I looked okay. I had a decent tan happening, but that's all relative: Polish critters can spend time in the Sun, but by the time we go back to school, our skin is back to a radiant shade of Wet Waxed Paper. A thin spread of coconut oil on my face, chest and arms, and sure, why not? Some on my decently-shaped (if I may say so myself) ass. I like my rough hands, but the nether-regions? Soft, please.

Once I'd done as much as I could to look like a farm boy but not smell like one, I pre-rinsed, brushed my teeth, flossed, post-rinsed, and was ultimately content with the results. I knew I'd chew an entire pack of gum on my way to town, too. Unlike many of the kids in rural areas, I never chewed tobacco. Dad, Anders; the same. Even Tommy wasn't a fan. There were plenty of other guys, all good guys, who made up for us. Squat cans of Copenhagen were in nearly every left rear pocket of jeans.

Towel wrapped around me, I went back to my room to dig through the closet. It was presumptuous of me at the time to think that no matter what I chose to wear, it wouldn't be on me for very long. So: choose something easy for Marc to remove. With his teeth. Okay, not seriously. I settled on a comfortable pair of Levi's, decently faded but freshly clean. A black v-neck t--shirt, maybe just a little tight. My hikers and my watch finished it off. No hat. No goo in my hair.

I glanced behind me in the big mirror at the end of the hallway. I guessed I'd pass inspection. Oh.....one last thing. Back in my bedroom, I reached for the little bottle of woodsy cologne Dad gave me one year. I squirted a little into the air in front of me and walked through it. Honestly just wanted the barest hint of anything on me. Mom said Grandpa used to swim in Polo or Drakkar Noir when he was younger. The mosquitos never touched him, but potentially detrimental for me, Grandma almost didn't, either. Mom said everyone stayed upwind of him.

Satisfied, I bounded down the stairs, two at a time. Mom and Anders were in the kitchen and both stood up when I walked in. They were all genuine smiles. This was kind of a big deal for all of us; I was following my heart, and they were following my lead. They trusted me to make an adult, informed decision. Anders had given me some sage advice, but that wasn't from an older' to a younger'. He said the same things people have been advising each other a lot over the recent past. I appreciated his concern. Too many gay kids had no one in their familial corner, so to speak. That was not lost on me. It never has been.

Mom hugged me and said I looked as handsome as Dad when he was my age. That was a compliment, because I have always thought Dad was a handsome man---at all his ages. Anders looked somewhat like him, but favored Mom's side. I think Gus would've looked like Mom's twin brother. Mom and her sister were both striking, beautiful women. Dark brown hair and brown eyes, lean but powerful figures, and tall. None of us boys scared horses or made babies cry.

"Jeff, Anders and I can handle the morning. I don't know when the trucks will be here. Don't rush back! I don't know what to say; have fun'? I've no doubt about that! Say hi' to Marc. Second thought: don't say that. Don't even mention us. Mom says hi!' is just as bad as say hi to your mom!'"

"HA! Okay, Mom! I guess if you see me in the morning, you'll know I was safe and everything went well. If you see me in about 30 minutes, either everything is NOT going well, or you're in town spying on me."

We all laughed, and I grabbed my keys from the kitchen counter and walked toward my truck. I was still making decent time, so I detoured to check on Lola Cola. Anders left a light on at the farther end of the barn, so there was soft illumination at the stalls. OC was in a relaxed and crouched position on the straw bale, facing the little family. Lola Cola woofed and wagged her tail when I got closer. I was glad she came through her emergency all right. We'd have somehow raised the pups on our own, but it would not be the same thing for anyone. Rotate the players. Raise a new generation. Wash, rinse and repeat.

Satisfied that I left the farm in good shape so I could be gone for the night, I drove up to the county road. I honked twice and waved, not that anyone would see me. The trip to town was filled with nervous anxiety. Too soon?' Am I dressed okay?' `Will this be weird in his grandparents' house?' Marc invited me. He called the timing shot with the invitation (if not heavily-hinted suggestion). He knows how I dress. He knows the previous owners of the house. I was being silly. Oh, well; it's part of my charm.

At the intersection with Highway 200, I turned onto a busier-than-normal flow of traffic. Eva's shack was busy, too. I saw Kim and waved, which she returned. I was glad she decided to stick around. I hoped she'd enjoy life in Fergus County. She certainly hit the ground running; her personality meshed perfectly with Eva's and the folks around here. I suspected it wasn't just the incredible baking going on in there that drove the increase in business. I thought Kim brought that something extra, and customers appreciated it.

The traffic into town was most likely due to the fair. There are several roads in and out of Lewistown, but Highway 200 runs right into and through and out of town. All three stoplights of it. I flowed along with everyone else. The mood seemed fun and joyous; people honked at each other, and downtown actually had some foot traffic, too. Not bad for a Main Street with every other storefront boarded up and out of business. Thanks, Covid; thanks, Amazon.

I turned at the bank. Four blocks. Four agonizingly slow blocks from here to Paradise. Okay, now I sound ridiculous. We all know Paradise isn't at Marc's house. It's in the back seat of my truck, of course. That rich King Ranch leather saw (or felt) some occupation back there in its past, but I thought as of now, that upholstery was going to be mighty neglected and lonesome.

Maybe not. Neither the Mustang nor the old `57 truck have back seats, and my rig will be the most comfortable for Costco Runs to Billings or parking after swinging through the Dash-Inn for a nighttime snack. I already knew exactly how well Marc and I would fit, but for the sake of Science, we'd need some controlled experiments, anyway. But not tonight.

Well, there I was. Parked on the street, right beside Marc's home. Marc's home.....damn. I liked how that felt in my noggin when I thought it. I let out a heavy breath, checked my face in the visor mirror one last time, and spit out the huge wad of gum I'd been gnawing on since leaving the farm. Must've been easily six or seven sticks of spicy cinnamon gum in there.

The walk to the front door was slow and deliberate. Was I suddenly scared? For what? I'd done `this' before, but not with someone I genuinely had feelings for. I'm fairly certain Instinct would take over when the time was right, but I wasn't going in there to fuck, and ten minutes later rush back out again. This wasn't the horse trailer behind that guy's truck from Canada two Summers ago. Ummm.....I digress, don't I?

I reached the door. It took an Herculean effort, but I raised my left arm to point a finger at the door bell button.

`Just.....reach a little further and push that fucker, Jozef! Don't wuss out now! He's just a man! A seriously hot, dreamy, furry, stud-fuck-well-built, over-educated, deep-voiced, just-the-right-heighted, dazzling-smiled man. Who until that very minute had been my boyfriend of a whoppin' three or four days. PUSH THE FUCKIN' BUTTON!!!'

Those internal dialogues are best left between me and Dad. That other guy, the bossy one, needs to sit down and shut up. At least for a dozen or so hours. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and pushed the button. For fuck's sake, you'd think I was That Guy in `Oppenheimer', setting off a complete re-routing of Humanity's future by pushing a button. I just wanted my 100 megaton-beautiful boyfriend to know I was here.

Push.

Oh, god. Did I push too long?? Not long enough? Too long' said I was impatient. Too short' said I was an over-confident dick who shouldn't have to push a button at all; that Marc should just be standing there, door open and Martini in hand for me.

Daddy, I would normally want you with me in a new and stressful situation, but honestly.....not now. Please just.....I don't know; roll over down there. Look the other way. Cover your ears and shout LA-LA-LA!!!' repeatedly until 6:00AM tomorrow morning. Oh----and thank you for getting Lola Cola all repaired and back to good-as-new.'

The door opened. There he stood. Marc, my boyfriend. He smiled and giggled just a little. I think he could see my apprehension (only with myself and my own behavior) and discomfort (the t-shirt was maybe too tight).

"Hi."

"Hi. Marc."

I stood frozen. I was Lot's gay lover, turned to a pillar of glitter at the White Party in L.A.

"Um, did you want to come in.....?"

"Yeah. Please."

"You don't have to say `please'; I invited you, remember? Or are you a vampire, who has to be invited in?"

"I remember. Yes. I mean, yes, I remember you invited me'; not yes, I'm a vampire'. Oh, geez....."

"Jeff....."

"Marc.....fuck it....."

I stepped right up to him, kicked the front door closed with my heel, and embraced my man. It wasn't an I'm about to fall off the Matterhorn!' embrace, but it also wasn't the hug I shared with my brother only an hour ago. Marc returned it. We just held on, his head resting on my shoulder, and mine kinda the same on his (I'm a little taller than Marc). I inhaled deeply. If I were a sommelier, I'd say something like, I detect essences of Zest, Suave and Mitchum.....and oh, yeah.....Marc Musk. Fuck, yeah; Marc Musk. Swoon

He pulled back just a little so we could see each other. Well, there goes my view of his perfect, solid, hemispheric ass, but oh, would ya looky right here! A handsome face has replaced it. Even better!

"You okay, Babe?"

"I am now. Or will be soon. Just a little.....excited, I guess."

"That purple ribbon has affected you still, I see....."

"Smart-ass. I mean, this is Sunday, Marc."

"Yeah, it is. You said Fergus County folk can do their own version of time-travel, and here we are. Sunday. I hope we enjoyed the fair last night."

"Me, too. I'll have to check with Tommy."

"You want to come back to the den? That's where all the root beer, 7-Up, feet and radios are."

"Marc, wherever you are, that's where I want to be. Um, I mean, unless you're pooping. You're on your own for that. Fuck, did I really just say that.....'

I rolled my eyes at the ceiling and turned redder still. So, Polish guys are chameleons; wet--waxed-paper one second, intense-stoplight-red the next. I put my forehead against Marc's.

"Sorry.....geez. Um, forget that....."

"Already forgotten. Fortunately. Gross! Anyway, come on, Farm Boy."

Marc took my hand and led me down the hall to the den. The soft light coming from the open doors bathed the rich blonde mahogany on the hallway wall opposite. I wondered why everyone on the planet didn't live in a house like this. The smaller room, though still by no means small, was cozy and inviting. I relaxed immediately when Marc handed me the glass of 7-Up. He motioned for me to sit on the dark green mohair-covered sofa.

"Not yet."

I put my glass down and faced Marc. I reached for his face and pulled him against mine. I wanted to remind him that despite my current mental state, I was mine and he was his. Fuck, that's not right.....I was his and he was mine. Better. I also wanted the benefit of having chewed all that burning-hot cinnamon gum before washing it down with 7-Up.

The kiss was not overly passionate. This wasn't the moment for that. This was truly `I like you so much, and here's proof'. I got as good as I gave, too. And mint. LOTS of it. That Cobb Salad was ancient history.

Once again two men and not the tangled web of human cells, we smiled at each other and sat. NOW I need that 7-Up. Marc kept hold of my hand. We sat facing each other on the overstuffed sofa.

"I'm glad you're here, Jeff."

"Me, too, Babe. I didn't plan on being so nervous and teenager-y. This is a very big deal for me. I have thought about being with you----really being with you. No distractions, no rush, no prize-winning steers or big dogs with little dogs. And now, here we are, just you and me. This is.....amazing."

"Ahhh.....good. For me: no rush to edit class plans, no Grandies to worry about forgetting `one last thing', no deer potentially becoming unavoidable traffic hazards. This is a big deal for me, too, Jeff. You are why I gave Fergus County a second thought. I'll admit, too: Fergus County is why I gave you a second thought. After we drove back here from breakfast, I was thinking that this was a nice, welcoming community.

It was making sense why my grandparents loved living here, and why they were moving away only because all their friends were gone. I thought that if you're the kind of human crop that grows here, then I need to re-evaluate what's important to me. I did that. I'll have plenty of nights where I'll be here and you'll be there. Probably calving season, for example. Why waste an opportunity to be together before our lives get hurried and harried professionally?"

"Marc, I've cried a lot this week already, and you're about to cause more----but not for the same reason as the other times. In my short time in my family, all seventeen years of it, I've enjoyed watching others like my mom and dad grow and enjoy their relationships. I knew I wanted that, but I couldn't imagine ever having it. They were a great example for me of `having it all'. Honestly, I never gave much thought to being in one, myself. All I think about is the farm. You are the first man I've even looked at twice, and I began hoping I might be able to have something with someone, too. Maybe you, Marc.

To be here with you now.....it's almost overwhelming. Both of us have had some big changes occur in our lives, and at the same time, for better or worse. I've reached some goals, some of `em lofty at times, but I only go after what I reasonably think I can get. Purple ribbon for Sebby, for example. I was confident I'd get at least a blue ribbon, because I groomed my steer and myself toward that end.

When I met you, I was fairly interested in you.....as you know! I was as tongue-tied then as I am now! But with each phone call, text message, seeing each other, I was getting this much closer to seeing myself having more to look forward to than crops and cows and horses and now, a pack of temporarily tiny dogs. I wanted this evening four days ago, Marc. I'll want it again four days from now. You're here now, and strange as it might seem, you actually make me want my farm more, too. `To be successful in Farming and Family is to be successful as a Man'. My father's father's father said that. Wisdom for the Ages, and more generations of my blood to come will say it, too. Sorry.....I talk too much, even when I'm NOT nervous."

"Keep talking, Babe. I like what you're saying. I want to say, too, that I'm not really that much older than you are. I've maybe been around the block once or twice by comparison, but really, I think we both see an unlimited horizon for a future. From my freshman year in my college career to your freshman year this Autumn, twelve years, I haven't cared about being with someone. My reasons are different, which I'll get into detail later. For now, it's condensed to this:

You looked at your parents and other couples as a reason to be hopeful for yourself along the same line. For me, I looked at my parents as a reason or an excuse for me to just bury my head in books, or even write my own. Theirs was not a relationship I wanted to emulate. They didn't have a relationship. `Married', yeah; but anyone can marry. They made that fact abundantly clear on a daily basis. They were a warning; yours were an inspiration.

So, here I come, Harvard to Montana, and I can't sleep. I get up and go running. Foolishly at a time and in a direction that anyone with sense would've avoided. Until I ran literally almost into you, my thoughts were on the two classes I would be teaching in September, about getting the landlord to finally deal with the phantom-flushing toilet, whether buying or leasing a car was better.

I was not thinking about what makes me happy; only what justifies my education. Then I meet you, and of course I was drooling, though I hope I hid it well in the dark. Soon thereafter, you're quoting Proust in both English and French. We've jousted verbally, and I can barely keep up with you. For the first time, Jozef, I am anxious to learn again. Maybe, really, for the first time. About agriculture. About people in the Here and Now; not the There and Then. I nearly crave hearing what you have to say next, because I know it comes from a unique balance of Head and Heart in the same man's body. Oh----by the way, I crave your body, too. So, that's about it, Boyfriend."

Well, I spoke too soon about more tears, because there they came. Joyful tears. I was in a conversation I couldn't have imagined, ever, and with a man who I couldn't have imagined existing, ever. I was right back again to being the dog who chased the car and caught it. What now? Marc handled that little detail quite nicely.

"Jeff. We can't hold each other on this sofa, and I believe now is the time to give our voices a rest for a moment. Feel no pressure, please; but I want you in my bed. We can do as much or as little as we want, but right now, I want to hold you.....and I believe you want the same thing."

I stood up, still holding his hand. With the other, I drained what remained of the 7-Up. I smiled at Marc and nodded. He returned the smile, and he pulled me back out of the room and down the hallway, further into the darker recesses of this amazing house. We stopped at another door. The dimmest light bulb ever manufactured sat beneath the glass-crafted shell of a bronze turtle. We were in a bedroom. A window was open, and I could sense the slightest breeze whisper through.

"This is one of the guest rooms. I, um, am not ready to sleep in The Grandies' bed. Or do anything in it. God, I act like it's a shrine or something. You know what I mean."

"Oh, yeah. I get that entirely. I still have a slight paranoia that all my dead relatives watch me jack off. There's something about the power of grandparenthood that keeps boys in line. Well, maybe not entirely, in my case. Is this your marshmallow bed you were raving about?"

"No, that's in the basement now. I actually bought this today and had it delivered. Not the bed itself; just new mattress and box springs. Are you okay with this, Jeff?"

"I am. Let's hold."

Marc smiled. He stepped forward, just as I hoped he would, and pulled the hem of my shirt out of my waistband. I did the same with him and his polo shirt. We both tried to unbutton each other's jeans, but some tightness and clumsiness necessitated that we use our own opposable thumbs on our own buttons. Off came the underwear, off came the socks, off came the last of my apprehension.

We stood naked, facing each other. Our eyes adjusted to the (maybe) seven watt bulb, obfuscated by a reasonable facsimile of a tortoise shell. Still, it was enough light that we could confidently step forward into another embrace. A hug while standing up is just the foreplay of Foreplay. I didn't know where we'd go that night. I wasn't exactly counting on sleep, but I would not turn it down, either.

Speaking of turning down, Marc and I did that with the sheet and blanket. I followed his lead and began my descent to the crisp, cool, Tide-scented sheet. We were on our sides, looking at each other. God. Fuck this. Up until now, it was like we were both politely window-shopping on Christmas Eve. I scootched over to the center of the mattress. Marc met me there. We navigated our way around the bed and each other until we were, indeed, finally, comfortably holding each other. My arm over this side, his leg over my leg. You know how it goes.

And YES, Paco made a new friend.

And the added bonus: We could KISS, and so we did just that. These were the kisses we'd wanted to give each other earlier, but weren't ready to. Yeah, we'd kissed----I told you about them. Those were furtive and fast, and would've been good for only last Sunday if we weren't ever going to see each other again----or entertain the possibility of us being more than just entertainment. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Now, though, we were responsible for the knowledge of our history we shared. Neither of us had seen ourselves as relationship-oriented men. Now, though.....at least for just the time being.....we were gonna get some relatin' done.

My dead relatives were probably rejoicing and shouting, `Alleluia! He's going to give his dick a rest!'

Ha! The joke's on them! What do dead relatives know?

Our kisses continued. What began as I like you' kisses became Oh, I like you! I REALLY like you!'. I was imagining Sally Field cheering us on, though my mind should've not been on someone who was a nun once or twice.

With the increased intensity and passion of our make-out session came lots of evolutionary, instinctual hip-thrusting at each other. If I kept that up, I was going to abrade poor Paco against the dense fur on Marc's.....well, his everything. The guy was covered. Paco, I'm sorry, but if worse comes to worst, I'll get you a skin graft. And don't tell me you're not enjoying this, too.

My hands were not content to remain stationary. I moved them all over Marc's torso. That's me being polite.....MY HANDS! THAT CHEST! MELT!!! Our kisses continued, though; and something that made me all giddy was opening my eyes in the middle of a kiss to see Marc open his, too. We looked right at each other and smiled through that kiss.

Incredible.

We spent what seemed like ten minutes, but was actually two hours, just like that. The grandfather clock in the living room kept us in the loop of Time's Passage, although nobly and somewhat quietly. At one point, I yawned involuntarily. I could feel it rising, and I was defenseless against what I'm sure would seem like an offense against my man. Still, there it was. And you know how yawns go; they play a game of "Follow The Leader".

I was drenched from navel to thighs. So was Marc. While our minds wanted to proceed slowly, our bodies wanted---and prepared for---goin' at it. I slipped my fingers down and scooped up some of his precum from the veritable geyser he had going on, brought it to my lips and savored every drop. Damn, was that nice. I went back for seconds. And thirds. I finally let my fingers take a break, and kissed my way down Marc's chest and stomach.

His fur was dark and thick, but it wasn't the curly sort; it was straight and soft. The texture on my face and lips was something I'd never experienced before. I actually stuck my tongue out to taste him, and I was not disappointed. Very slightly salty. Yeah, you don't move around on a bed for 120 minutes and not work up just a little sweat. His musk was more pronounced the further south I traveled. I was getting high, and I didn't care if I came back down.

This was careful work on my part, but Marc was not to be left behind. He worked himself into position so he could do the same on me. I welcomed his advances and moved a leg out of the way so he'd have easier access. Soon we were in the right place at the right time to drink from the source. Like this entire evening, this was a big deal. We can have a First Time only once. I was in no rush. I was seventeen that Summer, and this was Marc with me. If it took me another 83 years to get to this First Time with Marc, my time will have been well-spent and worth the effort.

83 years? What am I, a dialogue writer for the Hallmark Channel Christmas Movie Factory?

No.

Gimme that cock, ya fuckin' sexy boyfriend. I was intent on being the anti-Sand Worm in `Dune'. Instead of the big, voracious beast coming out of a hole, I was going to give it a taste of its own medicine and swallow it. Without mercy.

Oh, god. MERCY! Give me mercy! I'm cryin' 'uncle' here! What have I done?? I was trying to do something nice, like any friendly farm boy would, and instead I almost dislocated my lungs. Seriously, I could feel my ribs expand. And of course that created a natural vacuum, so Marc was stuck. This is where, were I in a barnyard and needing to get that stud Arabian to back off, I'd employ an emergency bucket of cold water.

I could've been drastic about this, but ever the Country Gentleman, it would never occur to me to break The Golden Rule and use my teeth. Sure, after that night I might spend the rest of my life sounding like the tall Golden Girl, but I didn't want a bad reputation. Well, I mean, for involving a dentally invasive blowjob. That's the last thing I want to hear whispered about me while standing in line at the grocery store. Or Communion.

Okay, so maybe I'm exaggerating just a little there. Marc was a very within-range-sized man. And in fact, at the lower end of the range. And it, like he, was perfect for me. I could make love to Marc's dick, and I did. I was slow and deliberate. I sucked his cock, he fucked my face. More than a few times, my nose was buried in a definitely not man-scaped thick thicket of cock copse. That sac of balls, too.....again, just right. Not the Papa Bear of Testes, nor the Baby Bear. Definitely the Mama Bear of Balls. Hmmm.....why don't we just leave all mention of Mom and Mama out of this moment. IF you don't mind.

We were more than content to continue our course and pace. We'd break on occasion to rest and give our tongues a chance to morph back into their natural size and shape. Continued kissing was on the agenda, too. Lots of it. I loved kissing with Marc. In my arms was a man I liked, respected and admired. He was a patient and, at the right moments, passionate lover that Friday night. He allowed me to be the same for him, or at least try.

I found it comforting and reassuring that both of us were essentially new to all this. Not a roll in the hay; I'd had those, both literally and figuratively. Marc was the first man I NEEDED to be with. He mattered to me. I didn't know at the time if I would ever understand why. Marc had, in a very short period of time, become essential to my Summer and me.

We brought each other orally to orgasm twice that night. To be honest, twice in two hours. The grandfather clock cheered us on and kept score. It was tender, then raucous, then somewhere in between. At one point, we were in a 69 with Marc on top of me. My hands had access to that perfect, fur-covered ass. I could not leave it alone. Whether he knew it or not, all I had to do was touch that dense valley of hair once, and I came instantly.

We pleasured each other, but it was being together that was most satisfying. I felt Marc's complete presence. There was no hesitation, but nor was there a rush. Our communication was more tactile than verbal, and that was a new experience for me, too. There wasn't a part of my body that Marc's hands or his tongue did not explore. I performed my own Shackleton Expedition (minus the ice, but pretty close to the cannibalism).

We denied each other nothing on our first night together, because neither of us asked for anything. This could've gone very differently, with nothing or everything happening. What DID happen was exactly what should have.

It ended as I hoped it would: my back to Marc's chest, his arm wrapped around me and a leg thrown over mine. Sleep was coming for us both; the yawns presaged our mutual fatigue. We had just enough time for Pillow Talk.

"I like you."

"I like you."

A final thought before I drifted off:

`Okay, Dad. You can look now.'