In the following story, all of the characters are totally fictive and the setting is real. For whomever it would be illegal, immoral or prohibited for any other reason whatsoever to read a story about love between two young men is kindly requested to refrain from continuing. A free picture album illustrating this story (pdf) is available upon request at maringiustinian@laposte.net. Please remember to help Nifty stay online by sending your contribution. This being said, I hope you enjoy the tale.
HEATHEN HEAVEN
by Marin Giustinian
Edinburgh, nowadays
It was their last rehearsal before the big night. For the first time, the Ghillie Callum, a small team of traditional Scottish sword dancers from Dunfermline was going to perform at the Beltane Fire Festival. The four lads were excited, keyed up, and covered with sweat.
The dancers were athletic, yet graceful, and the drummer was bulging with muscles. What was special about the team is that they danced only to drums, not by choice, but simply because they couldn't find a decent, volunteer bagpiper.
Another thing special was their costume. Since they couldn't afford the expensive, traditional clansman attire, they invented a sort of peasant's outfit. It was composed of a rough brownish kilt, a belt, without the ball-beating sporran, a simple, open shirt with puffed sleeves and broad collar, black knit knee stockings, and slippers. The drummer's girlfriend was a seamstress and a fan of the Ghille Callum. She tailored the costumes for the team, giving each one an individual touch.
Timothy Cameron joined the group only at the end of the previous summer, when he had arrived from Thurso, in the North. He wound up in Dunfermline. That's where he found work in the high school cafeteria. It didn't pay much, but it was enough for him to pay his part of the rent in a house share. He could put aside enough food to feed himself well from the meals he served on his job.
Tim was a lithe, good looking young man of just eighteen. The team took to him immediately. He proved to be a tireless dancer as well. There was something different in his style, something a bit feminine. He seemed to be genuinely carefree, always cheerful and never expressing anything negative. When asked if he had a girlfriend, he replied with the famous Bob Marley title, "No woman, no cry..." Malcolm, the drummer, just shrugged and the two others laughed. Girlfriends were no longer mentioned.
The team decided that they would arrive to the festival already in attire. They all piled into Malcolm's car and struck out to enjoy themselves with the hundreds of other revellers, climbing Calton Hill, overlooking Edinburgh, to the annual Beltane Fire Festival.
Beltane was a pagan fertility ritual, celebrating with fire the arrival of the summer. It dates from Scotland's prehistory. The present day festival was re-invented in 1988, under the auspices of the Beltane Fire Society. It was then decided it should take place on the eve of May, the night of April 30. It gathered together people, some in druids' costumes, disguised actors and others dancing with torches, some totally nude. They portrayed pagan divinities, all celebrating the fertility of the oncoming summer, revelling around bonfires and frolicking in the bushes. The erotic sound of drums, chants, and bagpipes resounded from the hill through the night as inhibitions fell, surrendering to rising lust. A heathen heart beats only skin deep in every pubescent male and the throb can last a lifetime!
Dale Montgomery had never attended the Beltane. He came to Edinburgh as a young outstanding scholar and future erudite to do post graduate work on his Masters in Celtic and Scottish Studies after having been a Cambridge undergraduate in Anglo-Saxon, Norse, and Celtic. He was born and raised in a rather well to do London family. His father ran a very exclusive classic automobile restoration workshop and garage.
His allowance permitted him to rent a private studio in the Brae House student accommodations on Abbeyhill Road. He also had a space in the garage for the classic, black MG roadster his father gave him when he left to study in Edinburgh.
He had heard a lot about the Beltane Fire Festival and was excited to go there, take pictures and indulge, as a spectator, in some rowdy pagan fun. He had spent a studious winter and as the days were nearing the summer solstice, he felt a deep yearning inside to expand, breathe and reconnect with the normal energy of any twenty-two year old fellow!
He showered and shaved, dousing himself with Eau Sauvage. He chose his sexiest jeans and tightest white shirt to flatter his elegantly proportioned body. Grabbing his leather backpack, he put a flask of single malt in it with his camera and a light cardigan. He drove over to Calton Hill. It was close to 10:30 PM when he climbed the hill with all the others arriving for the midnight festivities.
The night was perfect. The sprawl of the city lights encircled the hill. The colonnade was perfectly outlined against the glow of the evening sky. The fires were lit, the drums throbbed and the bagpipes shrilled as the gleaming nude dancers, powdered in crimson, twirled and waved their torches. The sight was magical.
Off to the side, the Ghillie Cullan, with their three young sword dancers and drummer drew a nice little crowd. Dale moved in and began to take pictures. The sight was timeless. The young men seemed to never touch ground. In good Scottish tradition, they were naked under their kilts and as they danced, the swirling fabric revealed furtive visions of firm young buttocks and milky white thighs. They challenged each other with increasingly complicated steps as the little crowd cheered them on, all faces beaming.
Dale was fascinated by the elegance of the youngest and most comely amongst them. It was Tim, of course. The lad laughed out of sheer glee, as he leapt and bounded, dancing like an elf, a sprite, a flame of flesh. Dale was more than charmed. He was totally enthralled, beholding the vision of Tim's outrageous grace.
The crowd clapped and whistled their admiration when the Ghillie Callum ended. The dancers disappeared into the park and Dale wandered off with the others. He was tempted to join in the crowd's cavorting, but even the whiskey didn't free him enough to let him revel with the others. So he took pictures, like a hunter on the prowl. However, the relentless rhythm became an obsession. He was about to leave when he spotted Tim alone, dancing in front of an extravagant bonfire. He stood there, dumbfounded. Then his camera began to click like mad. Tim sensed Dale's attention. He glanced at Dale, flashing an inviting smile. Overwhelmed, Dale froze, unable to move as Tim came up to him, drenched in sweat.
"Hi! I noticed you while we were performing. You were taking pictures there too," purred Tim.
"Do you mind?"
"No, not at all. I'll give you my number if you can send me some?"
"With pleasure. Of course I can. Give me your number and I'll send them right now!"
"Great!"
Dale showed Tim the pictures as he chose the ones to send. They both relaxed a bit.
"From the way you talk, you must be English..." deduced Tim, pulling off his shirt, wiping his pits.
"Yes... I'm from London, studying here now," replied Dale.
Once the transfer was done, Tim grabbed Dale's arm, "Why don't you come and dance with us. Let's dance together! It's Beltane!"
"But where are your mates?"
Stuffing his shirt in his small backpack, he replied, "They wanted to leave. I told them to go without me! I was just getting started and told them I was staying until the busses began again in the morning."
"You live far away from here?"
"Dunfermline... Come on! Let's dance!" he pled, tugging on Dale's arm. He finally let himself be pulled into the dance. At first Dale felt clumsy, hardly moving as Tim flitted around him.
"Look! Just do like I do! Follow me!" he shouted as they began a step together in rhythm with the crowd.
Dale began to limber up, smile, and finally move, copying the best he could Tim's action.
"By the way, my name's Tim," he shouted, "and yours?"
"Dale!"
"Well, Dale! Just cut loose now and do your thing!"
The drums throbbed in the night. Dale felt like he was in a kind of trance, elated, light, and suddenly very gay. Tim flirted with Dale as they danced, bumping into each other, striking elusive poses, flashing him with the hem of his kilt. Dale, out of breath, took Tim by the hand, saying, "I'm dying of thirst! Want a swig of whiskey with me? It's just plain Glen Moray but it's wet!"
They went over to the bushes. Dale found the flask in the bottom of his sack and handed it to Tim.
"After you!"
Dale took a swig, then so did Tim. He coughed some as he swallowed. Dale laughed and drank some more, emptying the flask.
"That's good whiskey, Dale... Want to go lie down somewhere? I'm totally exhausted!"
"There's more whiskey at my place. I live only a few minutes from here. Why don't you come and rest up there with me?"
"Let's go!"
Tim was impressed by Dale's MG but said nothing. When they took the lift up to Dale's studio, Tim was still silent. Dale opened the door and turned on the lights. That's when Tim said, "Your flat is just like you, Dale, handsome, warm, and welcoming!"
"That's really kind of you, Tim. You're quite warm, handsome and welcoming yourself, you know."
Tim smiled as he came a bit closer. Dale noticed Tim's kilt tenting. Tim giggled and simply said, "Can't do anything about it, can I?"
"I guess not..."
Tim looked down. Dale's hardening cock was also creeping, well outlined, down the tight thigh of his jeans. Smiling, Tim said, "Guess you feel a bit cramped like that, don't you?"
Dale giggled, tilting his head and mocking Tim, repeated, "Can't do anything about it, can I?"
"If you can't... I can," laughed Tim as he began to undo Dale's buckle.
"That's very kind of you, again!" replied Dale as he caressed Tim's cheek.
"I love helping people, Dale..."
"I love being helped."
As Dale stepped out of his boxers and jeans, Tim ripped off his kilt and they hugged, pressing their damp cocks one against the other.
"Am I too smelly, Dale? Lots of sweat and smoke can do that."
"I must be smelly too."
"You are," affirmed Tim, sniffing him in the neck.
"Let's take care of that in the shower before resting up in the bed."
"Are you sleepy?" inquired Tim with a coy smile, as he pulled off his knee stockings.
"Who's talking about sleeping?"
They began jacking each other as they kissed under the shower. They quickly towelled each other down and jumped in bed. Tim was really worked up. He pushed Dale down on his back, straddled his thighs and began working on his cock in a kind of frenzy. Dale pushed him off and laying on their sides, facing each other, they kissed and jacked, writhing together. Their faces reddened. Tim gasped. Dale thrusted in Tim's fist and both, at the very same instant, spewed jet after jet all over each other's bellies and pubes, slathering their cocks with mixed semen.
"Wow! That was fun, Dale!"
"What time to you have to be on the job?"
"Half past ten."
"If you want, I can lend you some clothes and drive you to your work."
"You're a saint, Dale," exclaimed Tim, snuggling up close.
"And you're my sticky, heathen angel," Dale replied, holding Tim tight as he yawned.
"I like being sticky as long as we're sticky and stuck together! Hug me and let's sleep some... Okay?" murmured Tim.
"I'll set an alarm on my phone. Give me a kiss."
"Even two or three!"
They woke up and dashed back into the shower. As Tim was choosing something to wear, Dale heated water for instant coffee.
"I found these shorts and a T-shirt that don't look too big for me. I don't need undies. Never wear them. At the school, there's my required uniform -- So?"
Tim looked so cute standing there naked with Dale's clothes hanging from his hands.
"Please do. But you'll bring them back Saturday for our night out touring the pubs. I'm inviting."
"And spend the night?"
"I think I'll be too drunk to drive and you to find a bus... This is now your bed as much as mine, silly!"
"Whoopee!"
Tim jumped on Dale and gave him a big, wet kiss.
"Drink this and let's get going... By the way, I'm so sore I can hardly walk."
Gulping down the coffee, Tim replied, "Dancing can do that to you. And how's your cock?"
"Feeling a bit lonely already."
"I'll keep it company next Saturday."
"Can't wait! Come on! Don't want to be late, do you?"
Tim's workmates commented on his gleefulness. So did his housemates. Come Thursday evening, the dance team gathered for practice. Everybody agreed that they were unbelievably fabulous at the Beltane Festival.
"Tim, I noticed that there was a guy taking pictures... mostly of you," remarked Malcolm.
"I've got them in my phone... Want to see?"
"Do you know him?"
"Well, after you blokes left, I went wild dancing on my own and Dale -- that's the fellow's name -- and me, we sort of hooked up and he sent me the pictures. After we danced together and..."
"He looked like he was in love with you!" exclaimed Malcolm.
"Well, it sort of turned out that way. He swept me away and I loved it. We're going out on a date Saturday."
As the others were looking at the pictures, Erwin, one of the other dancers, shouted, "My God, you're gorgeous on these pictures, Tim!"
Malcolm called out, "Calm down, Erwin! He's taken... Tell me, Tim, how can a bloke from Thurso be a fairy?"
"Well, I guess it's the Beltane fire that cast a spell on me and Dale. Hope you don't mind me being a poof, but I'm really happy that way."
"I don't mind who you fuck with as long as you don't try to get in my girl's underwear... nor mine for that matter," jested Brian.
Tim looked at Brian's kilt and replied, "You know that underwear is forbidden under a kilt!"
"Tim, any time you want!" laughed Erwin, lifting his kilt, exhibiting his cute, perky cock.
The third dancer, Rick, being the more serious of the team, blurted out, "Enough! Let's go to work... and by the way, Tim, congratulations. We're all happy for you. Don't get hurt!"
Malcolm struck the drum and shouted, "Long live love! Now let's dance. I'm reminding you that we have a gig to do next month in Holyrood!"
Spirits were high and the team seemed to have wings.
At six on the dot, Saturday evening, Dale's intercom buzzed. He pushed the button and a few moments later, Tim knocked on the door.
For their date, Tim was groomed to perfection, wearing a simple kilt, and a little too much aftershave. He just stood in the door, beaming, with a rose in his hand.
"Come on in. Is the rose for me?" Dale asked.
"No, it's for your lonely cock, dimwit! Don't I get a kiss?"
Dale laughed, a bit at loss for words. He just smiled and held out his arms. Tim laid the rose on the table and melted in Dale's embrace.
"That's better... Now look at what else I brought."
Tim dug into his backpack and pulled out a slender single rose vase.
"I was sure you didn't have one, so I got this one for you and your cock's rose. I'll have to come by often and replace it when it wilts. That is, if it's not a problem for you..."
"You're daft crazy, Tim!" exclaimed Dale.
"You drive me mad, Dale. Ever since we danced by the fire, I've been burning for you. Clever people, those Celts."
"Pagan magic! I've been longing for you too, mate!"
"What are we going to eat before we eat each other?"
"Salmon on blinis, a big fruit salad and two obscene slices of spice cake for dessert. The fridge is full of Simpson's ale to get us started. How does that sound?"
"Sounds like heaven, heathen heaven!"
Dale put on some good music. They sat down and began eating, still joking. As they finished the blinis and started on the fruit salad, there was a lull in the conversation.
"Dale, can I ask you a delicate question?"
"Of course..."
"You can tell me it's none of my business and I won't be offended, but where does your money come from?"
Dale laughed and explained quite simply that he was the spoiled brat and last born of a filthy rich family.
"My grandfather belonged to the idle gentry and was crazy about automobiles. My father started a business, hiring the best mechanics, body repairers, etc., to restore vintage, classic cars, making them like new again. My older brothers are married and in the business with him. My Mum's rich too... so there you are."
"You're really lucky!"
"It's not luck. It's like a lottery as to where you're born. It just so happened that I appeared in a family with wealth. But when you say that I'm lucky... You're right. My luck is finding you!"
Tim actually blushed, replying nothing, with a little tear gleaming in his eye.
"Now it's my turn, Tim, to ask you a delicate question -- no, wait, I want to ask you two delicate questions."
"What's the first one?"
"Are you gay... I mean, do you have a lot of sexual experience down that line?"
"I'm gay ever since I fell for you at the Beltane Fire. I don't know what hit me. You, I guess! You lit a fire in me that was smouldering but had never really become a flame."
"How's that?"
"I knew I wasn't concerned by girls and that I loved wanking... So that was it. No, I don't have any experience down that line other that what we did together. Are you disappointed?"
"Not at all... just wondering..."
"And what's the second delicate question?"
Tim ate some more fruit salad, waiting for Dale to ask.
"Where do you come from to be working so young in a school cafeteria?"
"Dale, my story's a bit more complicated than yours."
"Tell me anyhow, please."
"I guess I pulled a lousy number on the birth lottery. My father's from the Orkneys. Two years ago, my Mum discovered that he had a wife and kids up there too. So she threw him out. He didn't really seem to mind. He didn't even hug me when he left. He never hugged me anyhow..."
"My parents never hugged either. The only hugs I got was from the choirmaster at boarding school. He liked to fondle me, touch my dick and all. I loved it. Then one day, we learned that he had blown his brains out with a shotgun, sitting at the organ. He had his pants down and there was blood and pieces of his head spurted everywhere. That ended the hugs. I quit singing in the choir..."
Tim looked concerned as he listened, wide-eyed to Dale.
"Creepy!"
"Excuse me... What were you saying?"
"Well, as I was saying, my Mum took another man in to live with us. I hated the bum. He hated me too. I managed to finish school and then left for Edinburgh to find a job, any job. Nobody cared about me, so I had to care about myself. I found my job and joined the dance team in Dunfermline. Dance has kept me going! I'm lucky with dance. Dance led me to you, Dale!"
"That's right!" Dale replied, putting his hand on Tim's, "and now, how do you feel about us, you know... you and me... together like that?"
"You mean about us being queer? I feel great, Dale. I've already come out to my dance mates."
"Already?"
"They congratulated me and wished us well! And you? How do you feel?"
"I feel funny. I thought about you all the time while you were away. I was counting the minutes until you'd be back... and now that you're here, it's like you'd never left."
Dale then stood up and walked over to the window. Then he turned, looking at Tim.
"Can I trust you, Tim?"
"Only as much as you trust me! What kind of a question is that? Don't forget, you let us get stuck together and I love it. I love you, Dale. Don't you believe me?"
"I want to believe you."
"Stop being complicated! Things have always been simple for you, and they still are now! I should be the complicated one around here! Do you believe you can trust me or not?"
"I believe you -- and I love you too. There!"
"Well, don't say anything else," Tim murmured, opening his arms, his kilt tenting.
They hugged and then shared a very tender kiss, the kind of kiss that only true lovers can experience.
"Dale, the cake was delicious, but I want you for dessert..." Tim uttered.
This time, it was Dale who began to pull Tim's sweater up. Tim raised his arms and then began to unbuckle Dale's trousers as Dale nuzzled Tim's neck. Things sped up. In a wink they were both naked, writhing together on the bed. In a confusion of sheets, pillows and bed covers, they managed to flip around and begin sucking each other's cock, twirling their tongues around the glans, choking on the tip as they bobbed their heads, their lips tight around the shaft. Instinct had taken over; the moment of mutual communion was nigh. Dale dug his fingers into the silky flesh of Tim's buttocks and pulled. Tim's slender cock found its way even deeper into Dale's swallowing throat. Dale thrusted, trembling, his cock oozing, as Tim's throat opened. Neither seemed capable of sucking deep enough, enticing, urging the rewarding overflow to finally quench their singular thirst.
They came, then collapsed. Tim licked a stray drop of semen off his swollen lips. Dale rolled over, flipped around and laid his head on Tim's heart. He nudged his shoulder into Tim's dripping armpit and hummed. Tim hugged Dale closer, as their lips sought each other's. Tim's tongue discovered his own taste in Dale's mouth. Glowing inside, they just laid there.
"Still thirsty, Tim?"
"This time, I think a tall pint of draught could take care of that. What do you think?"
"I think you're right!"
As they walked up the hill to London Road and entered the Safari Lounge, they were in a world of their own, oblivious to the noise and the bustle of the Saturday evening crowds mingling in the street entrance. They found a nice cozy table in the back room and sat, talking together, gazing into each other's eyes with that unmistakable look of lads in love.
"Hey there, lovebirds! What can I bring you?" shouted the waiter as he wiped the table.
"Do you have Dark Island on draught?"
"Sure do!"
"I'll have a pint then, please," immediately replied Tim.
"The same for me," added Dale.
"Do you like Dark Island?"
"I don't know... but I'm willing to discover!"
"It's a speciality from the Orkney Islands. In my mind, it must have a taste of my Dad... somewhere..."
"If it tastes anything like you, then I'll love it."
"It can never, ever taste better than me!"
"Well, that we'll see."
A few minutes later the two pints were on the table.
"Cheers, lover!" Tim toasted, raising his glass.
"Cheers!"
Dale drank, hummed and said, "That's good beer, but indeed you're better!"
"I told you so!"
The light conversation deepened a little as time for seconds came around.
"I've been wondering about something, Dale..."
"About what?"
"About Beltane. It celebrates fertility. Doesn't that sort of exclude us? You know, being homo and all?" asked Tim quite seriously.
"I think one can be fertile in many ways. I don't think you have to foster children to be fertile. We give each other love's energy and with that energy, we put more love into the world. Our fertility is more spiritual than the ordinary, basic kind... If you see what I mean?"
"Not really, but I feel what you're trying to say... At least, I think I do... Listen, why don't we start a kind of Gay Fire Festival and give gays and lesbians the possibility to fertilise the universe with our own kind of love."
"What do you mean by 'our own kind' of love? Love is just love, isn't it?"
"There you are getting complicated again! Shit! You know what I mean!"
There was a moment of silence, and then they both burst out laughing.
"So, tell me! What do you think about us organising a Gay Fire Fest somewhere?"
Dale mused a moment and then stated, "I know exactly where!"
"So you agree that we do it?"
"We can try..."
"No! We don't try, we just do it!"
"I love your attitude, Tim."
"I hope you love me along with it!"
"Don't be a moron!" exclaimed Dale, "The place I have in mind is about a hundred miles north of here. It's a standing stone, not well known, near a place called Cock Bridge. I found out about it, doing research on the internet."
"Noooo! I don't believe it! A Gay Fire Fest around a gigantic stone penis near Cock Bridge. Too wild to be true! When do we go take a look at it?"
They ordered whiskey and carried on drinking. It was settled that they leave the following weekend. Dale had a tent equipped with a little alcohol heater. They could leave early Saturday morning with food and covers and check out the place to see if it was suitable.
"Let's go pee, pay, and attempt to get back to your place, Dale. I'm really drunk, I fear."
They staggered back. Tim was so high he couldn't stop laughing. Once in the shower, his knees faltered and he slid down Dale's slick body. Dale grabbed him before he totally collapsed and tugged him up the best he could. He wasn't much better off either... Somehow they made it to bed and passed out, enlaced, until mid Sunday morning.
"I think we overdid it some last night... with the drinks, I mean..." mumbled Dale as he poured the coffee.
"My teeth itch and my tongue's numb, but I guess I'll survive. I'll survive, won't I, Dale?"
"I'll keep you alive, man!"
"Have you thought any more about our Gay Flame Fest?"
"Not really... I'm waiting to see if the place I'm thinking about is really the best. And you?"
"I don't know if I can think any more. All I've got on my mind is you. If I weren't so hungover, I'd love to make love to you right now!"
"Me too... After brushing my teeth that is..."
"Gross... yuck!" Tim frowned and then giggled.
"Yeah, our mouths must be really gross inside... Let's take a hike up to Arthur's seat and back. I think we need to sweat out whatever it is making us feel so miserable. Maybe we can enjoy some sex later, before I go back to Dunfermline."
"Why go back? You can move in with me if you want and commute to Dunfermline."
"Do you think you can study with me around?"
"I can always find a way..."
"Let's wait until we're back from Cock Bridge. Being lovers is one thing. Living together is another."
"Who's being complicated now?"
"Dale, neither my Mum nor my Dad showed me the good side of being a couple... give me some time!"
Friday was there already. After classes, Dale bought groceries, checked the tent and lit the heater. Everything was in order. Tim arrived around six. He was in jeans this time, with a small backpack and a rose in his hand.
"Hello lover!" he exclaimed, "I brought some company for your cock's rose... if it's not totally withered, that is..."
Dale pulled Tim in, gave him a big kiss and said, "The rose is a bit tired, but it's cock is in great shape!"
"Good! Yummy!"
Tim took a look at the equipment and then stretched out on the bed.
"My week was really great, but tiring. Our dance routine is getting better and the kids at school are getting excited with summer coming up and all. They can't wait for the holidays! Me neither..." he said, scratching his crotch.
"Don't get too comfy on the bed. We're going out for dinner. Will fish and chips do?"
"They always do! I'm starved!"
They walked back up to the Safari Lounge, had a pint and a plate and then went for a stroll in the park.
"I'm really glad to go out in the country with you some. You spoil me, Dale! I'm really grateful for it too, but I think I should pay some of my share. Let me chip in for the food or the petrol... for something anyway."
"Tim, don't be offended. I enjoy using my money this way. If you've got extra cash, save it for your expenses dancing... you know... an extra costume, new slippers, even soft leather boots."
"We've been talking about that in the team. Okay... I understand. The thing is, I've never been around the wealthy... and..."
"And you've got to get used to it! Ha!"
"No problem, but..."
"No but's about it, Tim. I need to give you things."
"It's not things I want. It's you... your love, your heart beating with mine."
Dale froze in his footsteps. He looked aside. Suddenly Tim felt that Dale was hurt.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"Nothing... It's just that I'm realising that I was behaving with you like my parents did with me. They gave me things -- and still do -- but not themselves, not their deep down inside, vital love. Dignity is not what you have. It's how you give and receive the priceless essentials, ourselves."
Tim remained silent.
Dale went on, sort of thinking aloud, "Shit! Money can sometimes be so complicated... mostly when it's lacking, but sometimes when you have too much and only that to comfort your heart's longing! Society has idolised money. That's why it's all fucked up!"
"Don't get complicated again, Dale! I love you the way you are, even if you're a spoiled, brilliant brat... I know you're much more than that! You're a great scholar, a fabulous photographer... and simply the guy the Spirit of Beltane chose for me to be in love with -- in love and in life, together. I won't worry about your money and you don't worry about my loving you. I can handle that quite well if you let me!"
As he said that, Tim grabbed Dale by the head and kissed him right there, in the middle of the lane. Several other fellows were crossing by with their girls hanging on. One of them uttered, sneering some, "Fucking poofs..."
Immediately, Tim reacted and shouted back, "Wankers! You dream about it! I've got the balls to do it! So fuck off!"
Then he grabbed Dale's hand and said loud enough to be quite well heard, "Darling, let's get going. The air sort of stinks around here."
"It ain't the air, you fucking fag! It's your shitty upper lip!" another shouted back.
"Cuntsuckers," Tim muttered as they paced away.
"You really know how to defend yourself, Tim!"
"Always had to... Dale, let's go back to the flat. I need to get in bed with you. I think we deserve a dessert and catch up on what we missed, being too drunk the last time?"
"Catch me if you can!" shouted back Dale as he shot off like a rabbit. Immediately catching up, Tim grabbed Dale. Laughing like school lads on a spree, they hastened away, hand in hand, to their own heathen heaven.
The following morning they lingered a little too long in bed, enjoying a very tender awakening, then a copious breakfast, and at last, after cleaning up and showering together, they loaded the MG and got underway. The morning was glorious, sunny enough to drive top down.
They took the dual carriageway to Perth and then the country road northbound. Tim was excited. He kept grabbing Dale by the knee shouting, "Look at that" or stretching his hands into the wind above the windscreen, laughing.
It was close to noon when they found the small road leading to the stone. At the end of the road, there was a space for parking and a gate opening onto a faint path in the grass. In the distance, the stone could be seen emerging out of the pasture. It looked like a majestic dagger, striving to rip the passing clouds. Tim jumped out of the car. When he went through the gate he suddenly hushed as if he were treading holy ground. Silently, they approached the stone, touched it, and gazed at the sharp point of the tip.
"It feels like it's alive. I'm all tingly inside, Dale."
"Some people say that these prehistoric stones are like antennas transmitting energy between the cosmos and the earth. That's why the more sensitive people consider them sacred."
Turning around and leaning with his back against it, Tim stated, "Whatever! It makes my cock hard... hard as stone! Ha! Like I say, it's alive, Dale. I can feel it!"
Dale hovered over on Tim, propping himself with his hands on the stone. He leaned in, pressing his crotch with Tim's, and together, they kissed. Tim hummed and shivered. Dale backed off, saying, "You're right, Tim. The stone is alive... at least for us!"
As they walked back to the car, Tim inquired, "Where do we pitch the tent?"
"First, let's eat our sandwiches and then look around, get the feel of the place. Then we must inquire if camping is allowed in the pasture. Oh! Look over there. There's a small river. Might be good for a dip..."
"As far as I'm concerned, Dale, this is a great place for our Gay Flame Fest! That stone's energy can keep us dancing for hours and having love-fun even longer! Whoopee!"
They ended up finding the owner of the land, a nice elderly gentleman who carefully listened to Dale's request. He explained that they were looking for a 'sacred', pagan place for a LGBT festive gathering with a bonfire and his pasture by the river with the prehistoric stone was perfect.
"What kind of gathering is that, young man? Could you repeat? I didn't quite understand what you said," kindly requested the gentleman.
"I said a LGBT gathering. That stands for lesbian, gay, bi and trans people... You know, queers, butches, poofs, fairies... like us," simply stated Dale as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
"Gentle young people so I've heard... Well if you keep the place clean and don't wake the dead by blasting music all night, I don't mind renting the place to you."
"How much would you charge for one or two nights?"
"If it's just you two, it's free, but if you're going to have a big venue, I can let you have it for..."
The gentleman scratched his chin, smiled and asked, "You said you're having a fairy gathering, that's it?"
"Well, Sir, fairies, like guys who like guys and girls who prefer girls, if you see what I mean..."
"That's what I thought... Fairies! When I was a lad, me and my mates from around Cock Bridge would have fairy nights by the stone. That place can keep you stiff, seems like forever... Whew... That was a lot of fun. We'd make a big fire and then... with no lassies around -- well you see what I mean," he chuckled with a twinkle in his eye.
"Quite well, Sir."
"Let's say you can have the place for your fairy party for..." he hesitated a moment and then stated, "Would fifty pounds per night be too much? I see your car's rather old, so you must not be too well off."
Tim coughed, trying not to laugh.
"We can manage with fifty, Sir. My companion and I are going to camp there tonight, close to the river, and we'll be careful to keep the place nice and clean. Could we now settle on a date for next year? When we get everything settled with the insurance, the police, etc., how can I contact you to confirm our agreement? My companion and I should arrive a day or so before the venue to get everything ready."
"Let's go settle all that in the house and have a drink on the deal. A fairy party... Ha!" he mused, chuckling to himself as they went into the farmhouse, "You're both mighty fine looking lads, you know. Brenda! Bring us a bottle of rye! We've got some young company!"
The late afternoon was peaceful, the light was beautiful, the small river's waters weren't too cold. As the heat of the day lingered, Dale and Tim indulged in some sunbathing in the buff, smearing sunscreen all over each other. They dared a quick skinny-dip, making them turn a nice rosy pink. Later on, after downing a big bowl of prawns and rice salad, they soaked in the peace of a long sunlit evening, snuggled up close together in a blanket, gazing at the stone.
"You know, Dale, I've been thinking about what you said of us living together. That means we'd be like a couple together. Right?"
"I don't know what it would be like, Tim. I just want to be with you more and more. That's all."
"That's all?"
"Well, yes... what else could it... or should it be?"
"Would you want to be with me more and more -- and in me too?"
Dale shot a glance, smiling at Tim. He nodded and asked, "Yes, and you?"
"I want us together and... united, if you see what I mean. I want it so much!"
"Tim, I want to be in you, and I want you in me as well. Am I being complicated again?"
"Not this time! Now, you are perfectly clear! Wow!"
As the sun set behind the stone, outlining it with a thin strand of gold, Tim and Dale writhed together in the grass, kissing and entwining the legs as they rolled back and forth over each other. The stone was casting its lusty spell on them both, shortening their breath, making their hearts pound, nearly in unison, and their pits flow with pungent, scented sweat.
The chill of the evening caught up with them. Dale lit the little flame in the tent, turning it into a small, snug sauna. They undressed, taking their time, savouring every precious instant. They enticed each other, seemingly for ages, delaying the ultimate moment of penetration.
Tim yearned, whimpering for Dale to enter him, fulfil him, make him vibrate with the energy of the stone itself. His hands trembled as he slathered Dale's drooling cock with sun lotion and spit. Then he invited Dale to prepare his entry with the lotion, tantalising it with his fingers. Tim breathed with gasps as Dale placed the tip of his glans just on the brink before sinking in. But Dale didn't sink. He slowly drowned!
Enraptured with unknown ardour, they both pushed and pulled back and forth, clawing each other, moaning, whimpering. Suddenly, Dale jolted, froze and spewed, stifling a howl, wide-eyed, gasping for breath.
Rubbing their cheeks together, panting, they smeared their tears of joy, then of glee as they smothered each other with their kisses. The night song of a distant whippoorwill and the furtive rustle of river floated in the moonlit air. Slowly, they regained their stamina and until the early dawn, they carried on, giving and receiving in the most intimate ways possible, the flow of their upsurging love.
Morning broke. Dale and Tim, wed-locked as one, seemed to glow as they awoke from their slumber. Oblivious to the chill, they ran out into the river, frolicking in the mainstream. Then, dancing around the standing stone, naked and erect like the heathens they were, they greeted with a kiss the dawning day of their brand new lives.
Driving back to Edinburgh, they settled the dates of Tim's moving in.
"I'm going to find a job in a nearby school. That way we can afford a two room flat. You set up your desk in our bedroom and I can practice my dance in the parlour. How does that sound?" inquired Tim.
"Sounds great! And now is the good time of the year to find both a job for you and a flat for us. I'm going to contact the LGBT PrideSoc in the university to see if they can back our Gay Flame Fest for next summer and advertise through their network."
They continued planning. As Dale drove, Tim jotted down the things they had to do.
"Should I note that upon arrival we must make love again?"
"I don't think it's really necessary!" Dale replied, winking at Tim as they laughed.
Once back in the studio flat, and their belongings sorted and stashed, Dale said, "It's Sunday afternoon. I'm sure my parents are at home. I want to call and tell them about us. If you want to be there with me, I'll have them Skype me. That way they can admire you and you can see them too."
"I'll always stand by you, Dale. If you want, I'll be glad to meet your folks."
Dale turned on his Mac and rang up his parents' home.
"Hello, Dale darling!"
"Hi, Mum. Can we have a little chat together with you and Dad on Skype? My Mac's already on."
"Of course dear. Give us a minute."
The contact was made. Dale introduced Tim on the camera and simply announced that they were now a couple and that he and Tim were happy.
Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery looked a bit stunned.
Dale continued, "I hope you'll like him too. Here, I'll let him say hello to you both."
Dale moved over, leaving the camera only on Tim.
"Good afternoon, M'am, I mean good evening... Good evening, Sir. I'm glad to meet you and be able to tell you that you did a great job when you made Dale. He's a wonderful man and I love him."
Dale's parents looked even more stunned!
Dale slid in beside Tim and they kissed in front of the camera.
Mrs. Montgomery cleared her throat and said, "That's sweet... "
Mr. Montgomery had disappeared from the image.
"Is Dad all right?" inquired Dale, hoping his father hadn't passed out or had a heart attack.
"He's fine, darling. He just went to pour himself a stiff shot of scotch. You've given us a real surprise, you know. Give us a minute to get used to it. However, I must admit, you two are very well matched..."
"I think so too, Mum."
"Maybe we can fly up for a short visit in a few weeks to meet Tim?"
"That would be great! Tim's group is dancing the second weekend of June. Come then."
"Is he then a... a dancer, you say? He doesn't really speak and act in an effeminate way. Strange..."
Tim laughed!
"He does Scottish sword dancing. That is not ballet, Mum!"
"Oh! I see..." she replied with a rather puzzled but relieved look on her face.
"Do you want me to make hotel reservations, Mum?"
"Thank you dear. I'll text you as soon as we have the flights booked. Your father's now back. I'll let him talk to you too."
"Dale, I know you... and when you're mind's made up, it's really made up. You are just as stubborn as me! That's something we have in common. All I want to tell you... you both... is just be careful. I don't want to hear that you were mugged or molested somewhere. People nowadays can be terribly vicious!"
"Dad! Don't worry. Tim doesn't look like it, but when he needs to be a thug, he can really be one! I've already seen him in action... You'll really like him when you see him, I'm sure. It's sort of like having another son."
"I really didn't see it that way... I guess you're right."
Dale's mother popped back on the screen.
"Do you live together or just... you know... together?"
"We're going to live together a while before we sign a civil partnership. I'll find us a small, modern flat near Holyrood Park. Listen, this is great, but we have a lot to do and must go now. I was so glad to give you the news and I'm waiting for you to give us your dates concerning your little weekend with us. Bye!"
"Bye, dear..."
The screen went black, and that was that.
"Dale! What's all that about? Us having a lot to do? Since when?"
"Since right now... in bed!"
"Whoopee!"
Postlogue
Tim sought and found a job starting the end of August for the following year at the nearby high school, working in the cafeteria.
They moved into a second story flat, just off of Canongate.
The Edinburgh's LGBT Society thought the idea of a Gay Flame Fest was quite brilliant and helped them organise everything in due order. The following summer, the first edition took place with nearly a hundred participants. It was a smashing success. The Ghillie Callum dance team came, without their girlfriends, and performed. Malcolm said it was their first 'poof performance'. He admitted that it was fun. Erwin became totally 'flamboyant' leaving with his first boyfriend at the end of the weekend...
A local association requested Tim to teach his style of Scottish. He accepted and with Erwin, they created a semi-professional group based in Edinburgh.
Once graduated, Dale landed a job teaching Celtic culture full time. Not bad, for a beginning.
As for the rest... Well, that's their business now!
A free picture album illustrating this story (pdf) is available upon request at maringiustinian@laposte.net.