Jason's First Workout Ð Chapter XI: The Return
Dear Readers: Sorry for the typo's I found in Chapter VII today. That is not who I seek to be as a writer and I'll make sure this chapter is edited more thoroughly before I send it to the publishers at Nifty. Thanks for all of the emails and the encouragement to keep these going. Dozens of you have asked for my inspiration pics of the characters and I'm happy to keep sharing. Just email and ask. The latest batch includes a head shot of Dr. Joe D. Green, Wildlife Biologist/researcher and the feature of most of this chapter.
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(New chapters (5 and up) updated to present day: Luke age 56, Brock 48, Jason 34, Butch 32, Joe 40, Chase 28, Sam 26).
Midnight Ð Jason:
I woke up to a light breeze coming through the open windows and the full moonlight shining down on both of our bodies. Joe was a snorer on his back with me curled beside him. I nudged him.
"Sorry, Gran says I snore on my back," he drawled, rolling over onto his stomach. My God this man was huge and sexy as fuck. He was a photo spread in a porn mag. And that drawl. When he talked in his sleep, his accent really came back. Back sounded like Bay-aaack. I extricated myself slowly and went into the bathroom and pissed. The house groaned with night noises, there was a light breeze across my naked flesh, and then I heard it. A rubbing, splintering sound. I moved into the kitchen where I'd started walking to get a drink of water and looked out from the window over the sink (that wasn't open) across the deck and into the back. Holy Fuck! The largest animal I could ever remember seeing was in my backyard, stretching and rubbing against a huge tulip polar, looking like a giant version of somebody's house cat.
"Joe!" I whispered loudly, trying not to make a noise and scare it. "JOE!" I turned back toward the bedroom, afraid that if I took my eyes off of it, it would disappear like a phantom. I heard the bed creak and then the weight of the Mountain Man as he stepped onto the wide pine floor boards. How in the hell could I feel this man when he stepped onto the floor? I shook my head, clearing it, never taking my eyes off the cat, and raised my right hand in a gesture I hoped he'd see and keep quiet.
He whispered, creeping up, "What is it?" I felt his massive arms come around my naked chest and his groin press into my back. I melted, but only for a second as he buried his bearded face into my neck.
"Stop!" I whisper-yelled. "Look! There's a huge mountain lion in my backyard."
"Well I'll be damned," he whispered back. "Isn't she a beauty? And mountain lion is a misnomer, Bud. Different genus than lions. Holy shit, isn't she gorgeous?" He grumbled in my ear.
We watched silently, grasped in a sweaty and breathless embrace as the large cat extended her paws up the giant, 75+- year-old tree like a housecat on a scratching post, pulling her claws down the bark and leaving huge gashes in the side. She walked around it a few times and then squatted on her haunches, expelling urine in a huge rush next to the trunk.
"See how her vulva extends when she urinates," Joe whispered excitedly. "That's how you know it's a female."
"Well, duh." I said smartly. "She's not pissing from a cock. I could've figured that out eventually." Then, "She's so beautiful. I had no idea." I gawked at the tawny, golden fur, the dark tips of her ears and tail, the dark whiskers. She leaned against the giant tree and I could swear it shuddered as she rubbed against it. Joe raised his head and looked out the other windows and said, "Winds out of the northwest over the ridge toward the house. That's how she didn't smell our cars. Once she smells human habitation again, she'll probably never come this close. How does it feel to be one of the first men in almost 50 years to see a Carolina Panther in the wild?"
I got goosebumps on my neck and arms at his question, or was it his touch? We watched her saunter softly into the woods, up the steep trace as if she were leaping little rocks. Gracefully, she disappeared into the deeper tree line. I turned into him. "That was amazing. I still can't believe it," I smiled into him. Then realizing, I said, "Wait! Weren't you supposed to stop it or something? With a tranquilizer gun? Isn't that what you do? Put on a transmitter? How will you follow her? See her again?"
"Whoa, City Boy!" Joe chuckled. "I have motion cameras rigged all around that tree line and on the cabin, remember. Every second of that shot was on digital video unless I had a serious malfunction. And no, I'm not a tranquilizer gun guy. Yes, some researchers may have done that and there will be others who question my methods, but I can't tell if she's ever whelped, Jason. I don't know if she's alone or has a mate somewhere. The last thing I want is hundreds of yokels up here trying to track her or worse, other researchers monitoring a tracking signal. Those are hard to keep private, you know?" I didn't know. There was so much I didn't know. But the length of the day and the excitement of the moment was catching up to me and I needed to sleep, but I also didn't want to let this huge man holding me go. I yawned unexpectedly.
"Hey Stud," He whispered into my ear. "Let's get you back to bed."
"But what about your cat?" I asked him as he walked me back into the bedroom.
"Let's get some sleep, Stud. I'll have to get an early start tomorrow, packing up my equipment and heading in to get started. And you, you're supposed to be starting on the rest of your life. Looks like it'll be a pretty big time for both of us." We got into the bed and he rolled onto his belly, so as not to snore I thought, and I snuggled into his side. He turned back into me and kissed me softly. "Thanks Jason. Tonight may just have been the most memorable one of my entire life."
He rolled back and I fell asleep almost immediately, not considering the import of that comment. I dreamed of log cabins and huge, hairy mountain men who sucked and fucked me repeatedly while wearing red, long-underwear. We slept under bearskins and sweated and fucked repeatedly until we were covered in cum. I awoke to morning light streaming through the windows and my aching cock, stretched taught over my belly against the light sheet covering me. I reached out to stroke Joe but he was gone. I sat up. A piece of paper, hastily ripped from a small notebook was on his pillow. I grabbed it and rubbed my eyes, realizing my contacts had dried in my eyes overnight. Why did I forget to take them out, I wondered? Vanity. Didn't want him to see me in glasses.
I read the scribbled note: "Dear Jason, Thank you for a memorable morning and evening. I'm sorry that I snuck away, but you were so damned adorable sleeping that I didn't want to wake you. I hope I don't wake you gathering my equipment outside. I forgot to take out my contacts so I can barely see, so I'll have to go by home and fix my eyes and then get to the office and start my writing. Jason, this is a very big deal for me. I've got to get this written up and then report progress to my grant coordinators. It could be very big for me. I'm not sure when I can be in touch but maybe not until next week. Speaking of that, you've got to figure out your phone. I'm leaving a friend's card on the kitchen table. He installs satellite hardware here in the mountains. You can get internet (so you can do your work here at the cabin) and phone. It might not be a bad idea to have a landline here so you could get messages or call for help at least? LOL. I'll text you later, but of course, you won't get that unless you're out on the highway where you can get cell service. Shit! This is a long note. I gotta go.
Thanks again. (I really, really had a good time!) Joe"
He `really, really' had a good time. I smiled to myself. Then I remembered and I jumped out of bed, ran to the toilet, and pissed a stream like a wildcat! Panther, actually.
It was almost 10 AM by the time I hit Highway 25 headed back down the mountain toward Greenville. As soon as I got two bars, I dialed the number on the card Joe had left me and got a soft, Southern woman's voice on the line. Clearly, not his buddy's voice. Apparently, satellite installation in the mountains was a busy endeavor. After a review of her calendar, she told me that they could try to work me in this coming Monday afternoon if I agreed to be onsite between 1 and 6 PM. Having no idea what I had going on, I gave her my cell number (useless) and the cabin's address and said I'd be there. Deciding I needed to get to the Dad's house asap, I tossed the phone onto the front seat without trying to read my texts. I'd check them when I got to Greenville. Mentally, I started to review what was left in the u-haul and how I'd get it back up to the cabin, unload it, and maybe delivered to a drop-off location in Hendersonville by Monday. I had lots to figure out, but I caught myself smiling when I looked in the rear-view. What was that about? I rubbed my ass on the seat of the Jeep. I was sore, but it was a damned good sore. Maybe that's why I'm happy, I thought.
I bounced into the kitchen less than an hour later, smelling the coffee, and smiling at Dad as he stood by the pot, wearing his ratty grey Duke t-shirt, a pair of running shorts and looking disheveled.
"Morning, old man," I grinned, "can I get a cup of that?"
He grimaced, poured me a mug, and handed it to me. "Son we need to talk," he half-whispered, half-spoke. "Why the fuck haven't you answered the messages and texts?"
I continued brightly. "No cell service at the cabin, Dad. You know that. And you guys always tell me not to text and drive. I figured I'd check them when I got here, butÉ" Someone else entered the kitchen.
"Good morning, Jason. It's about time you got home," Butch spoke from the hallway entrance to the kitchen. My jaw dropped. He was in an old Stanford tee and his boxer briefs. He looked as if he'd dropped a few pounds. His hair was limp, greasy, and hanging over one eye and his skin looked pasty. Was he hung over?
"What the fuck are you doing here, Butch?" I growled.
Dad placed a large hand on my right shoulder. "He showed up about 10 PM last night. Uber had dropped him bag in hand. He wasn't in such great shape so Doc and I put him up for the night until we could get in touch with you."
I looked at him. "Where's Doc?" I asked, wondering how Butch had survived a night with my over-protective father in the same house.
"Morning run before daylight," Dad looked me in the eye knowingly. "Got him to the office by first light. He had lots to do at schoolÉ" I shook my head, still struck that Butch was here. Dad handed a cup of coffee to Butch.
"Boys, why don't y'all take this out onto the deck where you can speak privately." Dad said, opening the back door. "I'm going to get a shower and get out of your hair." I moved like an automaton, not thinking, and Butch followed me. I looked back through the door and saw Dad give me a thumbs up and mouth "I love you!" I sat in the porch swing, sipped my coffee and tried to think what to say. Why the fuck was he here?
"What are you doing here, Butch?" I asked abruptly.
"I came to see if you'd come to your senses," He began. "To take you back home with me."
"Home?" I asked incredulously. "My senses? What the fuck is left to say, Butch?"
"I'm sorry, Jason. I really am," He began and started pacing. "Look. I know I fucked up, okay. But I'm sorry. I made a mistake. Do you really want to throw it all away? Really?"
"Butch. Why are you here? We were locked in the house for months. You could've talked to me but instead you were arranging hookups with twinks. I asked you to go to counseling and you refused for the last two years! Why are you here now?" I tried to keep my voice controlled. I would not lose it with him. Not now. Not again.
He scratched the soft of his belly and I saw the black treasure trail above the waist band of his Lucky Brand boxers. I gasped at the sight and my cock stirred. No! He would not get to me. Not again!
"I don't have a home," he began. "You sold my fucking home. I'm living in hell. The fires, the smoke. I've lost everything. And YOU! You've just thrown it all away and danced back here to live in Fairy Hillbilly Land again like nothing ever happened."
"Nothing ever happened?" I shouted standing. "I found you fucking a 19-year-old in our dining room? Nothing ever happened? I found out he wasn't the only one! I gave you multiple chances. I LOVED you. How dare you say this is somehow my fault."
"I got here last night and you weren't even here. No fucking way to contact you," he said. "How fucked up is that in this hillbilly place you can't get a phone call. And then, the way your `dads' looked at me and judged me. Like I was a piece of shit on their shoes."
"They love me. They are over-protective. Did you think they wouldn't be upset to learn that the guy their son married, that they believed loved their son, had cheated on him? It was a betrayal to our whole family, not just me, Butch." I said flatly. "You're lucky Doc didn't cut off your cock in your sleep."
"I locked my fucking door!" he said. "I could tell by the way he looked at me when I got here. I thought he'd throw me in the street, but Brock said I could stay in the guest room instead of catching an Uber. I heard them having words and then Brock knocked on my door. He handed me a glass and a bottle of Scotch and told me goodnight. I didn't see Luke again."
"That was probably for the best," I agreed. Then, "Look Butch. I'm not coming back. The condo is in escrow and I close at the end of the month. I've filed for legal separation and started the divorce proceedings. You'll be free to fuck whoever you want. I don't want anything else from you."
"Oh, I know you don't want anything from ME. What about what I want?" He yelled. "I got fucking served by Scotty! My friend Scotty!"
"Scotty was our friend and MY attorney," I said back quietly. "He agreed to handle the arrangements when I told them I was leaving."
"My MOTHER had to help me find an apartment," He whined. "Near campus. One bedroom. Like a fucking grad student. With only what I took with me. Then somehow Scotty searched the deed records, found where I had moved, and had me served. I've got nothing! I don't even know where my stuff is!"
I refused to feel sorry for this piece of shit, I thought. "Scotty assured me the service packed up everything that I did not bring with me. It was delivered to your parent's house last week. All should be there, properly packed up, probably sitting in their garage." I said.
"My parent's house? Holy shit." He went on dramatically. "Then I'll probably never see it again."
"What the fuck are you saying?" I countered.
"My father called me yesterday morning to inform me my mother wasn't well.' All of the stress I had been putting on her since my breakup.' He'd appreciate it if I gave them some space and did not involve her in my personal problems with, as he said it, the gays!" Butch's voice broke.
"I'm sorry," I said, meaning it. "I thought, without knowing where else to send it, that your parent's place would be the safest."
"All my memorabilia. All my stuff. He'll probably find some way to wreck it, just to fuck with me," Butch started to sob.
"Butch," I whispered, touching his shoulder, "ButchÉ". He pulled away.
"Just stop. Stop it! I'm so sick of your pitying looks and how you look down on me," he growled. I pulled back as if stung.
"Pitying looks? You are so fucked up you don't realize half how bad," I started.
"You know. You're right. This was a mistake. Coming here, trying to talk sense to you. To apologize even," he shouted.
"Apologize?" I said, "I'm the only one I've heard seriously apologize this morning."
"You," he continued, spittle flying, as if he hadn't heard me, "And those god-damned fucking fags of yours. Playing like they are your real Dads. Acting like you are all here in this goddamned fucking gay redneck paradise because you LOVE each other. It is fucking sick, is what it is," he went on. "You're fucking sick."
"I need you to get out, Butch," I said. My face hot. Trying to control my temper and my fists. "Go back home, Butch. I'll call you an Uber."
"Not til I've said my piece," he said. "I'm so fucking sick of you throwing it in my face. How loved you are. How fucking great your Dads are. Why I need HELP?" he screamed. "You don't know the first fucking thing about me? You and your fucking sick Dads. Who FUCKS their sons anyway?"
I gasped, but knew he was not going to fight fair. I tried to breath. I tried to remember what part of this man I still loved, if any. Still I wanted to love despite how he was hurting me now.
"I did know you, once," I began. "I still love you. I met a sweet, broken boy on crutches who was beautiful," I knew I couldn't control the tears but I let them come. "And he was hurting inside too. I knew that. But I just thought, maybe, if I loved him enoughÉ" I began to sob, trying to control it. "If I loved YOU enough, I could help you forget that bastard who made you feel you weren't good enough. Who wanted you to be someone you weren't. Because you are, you wereÉ everything to me, Butch. I'm sorry you don't see that. Can't see that."
He was sobbing now too. Hard. "I don't know how to fix thisÉ" he began. "I don't want to be this fucking gay icon. I can't be like you Ð like, like THEM." He pointed to the house. "I just wanted to be a ball player. I didn't want to be gay." He sounded just like B.C. Daley, Junior.
"Well, there it is," I said quietly. "There it is. If you can't accept who you are, B. you can't move on. The fact is, you like dick." I was tired of feeling sorry for him and I may have sounded hateful, but so be it. " Hate to break it to you, but you are one sorry faggot. Your dad is right about that. So, you're either going to have to accept it and move on, or stay fucked up. But you can't put that Genie back in the bottle."
He shrugged his shoulders, sighing, "Fuck!" he yelled toward the mountains. "Just Fuck."
"I'll call you an Uber," I said quietly. "Go get a quick shower and pack. You've got to go."
"No," he said, turning quietly. "There's one more thing."
"What now?" I said hesitantly.
"There's a video," he said flatly.
"What kind of video?"
"A sex tape. When I went to Bobby's (not Greg, the one you caught me with) but Bobby. The 18-year-old. Apparently, he set up to record us on his laptop," he said flatly. "I got a call from TMZ yesterday morning asking if I had a comment. Apparently, someone at Scotty's firm leaked that you'd signed separation papers. They asked if I had a comment and knew where you were. I said nothing. Then, when I didn't answer, they asked about Bobby. Did I know one of my friends' had been recording us?' Why did I like for him to call me `daddy' on camera? That's when I knew I had to see you face to face and tell you. I lost my temper on the phone. I may have told the reporter where you were?"
"You may have what?" I was still grasping the thought of a sex-tape when I realized what he said about my location. "You told these people I was in South Carolina?" I asked incredulously.
"Well, I was pissed. And maybe a little high. I've been placed on administrative leave for two months. Coach said my head wasn't in recruiting and I looked like shit. I'm living in a college student apartment. I'm fucked! The least I could do was share this shit-show with you too," he said.
IF I could've, I would've ripped his head from his shoulders. Instead, I grabbed my phone.
"Go shower. You have 15 minutes. I'm calling Uber now. I want you out of this house and out of my life for good." I said evenly.
"Fuck." He stated. "Fuck. I'm sorry, Jason. You're right. I'm fucked up. I fucked it all up. I'm sorry."
"Thanks for the apology," I whispered. "14 minutes." He hurried inside. I gripped the deck railing and looked out north toward the escarpment and the haze of the Blue Ridge. My soul felt crushed. How could this happen when just hours ago I had felt hope? Possible happiness? Now what? I thought. Now what?
Brock:
The slam of the front door told me that it might be safe to leave the bedroom. I hesitantly walked down the hall and into the kitchen. Through the door I could see Jason's back as he leaned over the deck railing. What should I do? Call Luke was my first thought. But no, I can do this. He's our boy. I opened the door slowly and stepped out into the humid late morning air. I reached my left arm around Jason's shoulder.
"I'm here, Bud," I said. "How'd it go?"
The shocking expression on my son's face startled me as he looked back at me. His eyes were sunken and red rimmed. "He's gone, Daddy. He's really gone and I thought I was okay with that, butÉ" and then he broke into sobs and fell into my arms. He was like a little boy, though heavy as a grown man, and I tried to lift him but more or less perched him onto the rail as he wrapped his arms and legs about me, sobbing the entire time into my neck.
"It's okay, Bud. It'll be okay, I promise. Doc and I are here. We love you. It'll be okay," I whispered, rubbing his back and holding him tight. He wept until I thought there'd be nothing left inside him. But it eventually slowed, and still I held him, my shirt beginning to stick to my back in the heat and humidity of early September. I felt the damp spot on my shoulder where he'd soaked it with his tears and felt his face snuggle into my chest.
"Why do you and Doc always smell so damned good?" he whispered.
"It's just soap, baby." I offered.
"But it's your soap. It smells so good." He snuffled. "I'm sorry I'm such a big baby."
"Heartbreak is a break, son. If you'd broken your femur you'd be man-crying right now too. Not a shame to be hurting."
"We said some really ugly things, Dad. And I realized, I still love him. I thought I couldn't forgive him. And maybe I can't, I don't know. But I didn't think I could still keep hurting so bad and still love him" he went on.
"I know, Bud. The ones we love the most can hurt us the most. They know all our secrets. Every part of our hearts. It's why it's a risk to love so much." I told him.
"How'd I get so lucky to find you," he asked.
"You made your own luck," I whispered. "You found Doc. And he loved you. Just like he loved me. We all got lucky that day." I continued to pat and squeeze him.
"I think I got a splinter in my butt," he sighed, pulling away. "And my ass was already sore."
"Oh yeah?" I asked, wondering why he'd bounced into the kitchen when he first arrived.
"Maybe later," He said, jumping down. "But right now, do you think you could make me some of your blueberry pancakes? With bacon? I know it's not Saturday, but I haven't eaten all morning."
"All you had to do was ask, Champ," I said. "Of course. Just let me text your Dad and tell him he can come home now."
He smiled at me, "I thought he was at the office working."
"He is. But technically, he works from home on Fridays now. I just wouldn't let him stay here. I was afraid he'd kill Butch. Speaking of the SOB, was that him I heard slam the door?"
"Yeah, his Uber arrived. He's flying back to Cali, I guess. And there's other shit. But Dad," he started.
"Yeah Bud?"
"I really don't want to talk about it right now. Can we just have pancakes?" he asked woefully.
"Come in to the kitchen," I said, patting him on the back and kissing him on the forehead slowly. "I'll make you feel good as new, Champ."
Later that afternoonÉ Luke:
I sighed slowly as my limp cock fell from Brock's well-ridden and juicy asshole.
"That was some fuck you threw me, Dr. Smyth," Brock growled.
"All my pleasure, Stud," I whispered back into his ear. "Give me a few minutes and I may go again. You know what the site of my seed dripping out of your broad ass does to my libido," I said.
"Oh yeah, you nasty Daddy," he laughed, spinning into me and tickling my sides.
"Stop it, stop it!" I cried out. "Why do you have to go and get frisky as a newborn colt just when I start getting into my looove-talk?"
"Damn it," he said, reaching out to grab my face and kissing me hard. "I hope we never stop fucking. This afternoon delight sex is better than I imagined my retirement could be."
"Yeah?" I asked. "It enough? We could invite Manny back sometime if you want some younger ass again."
"Look, about that," Brock began. "Bud, I liked fucking the kid, no lie. And if an occasional three-some helps your cock feel juicy again, I'm with you to the end. But honestly, I get a little jealous watching you plow that tight hole."
"Seriously? I thought you were into it," I said.
"I'm into you. If you want to play, I'll play. But if not, wellÉ" he trailed off. And then thinking added, "And I've topped you three times in the week since Jay's been home, not counting our night with him. If you're willing to give it up for me again occasionally, then you're all the man I ever want, Stud."
"Damn," I said, surprised. "I love you, Bud. I thought you weren't in to topping that much anymore."
"You never asked me," He countered.
"I guess we can't say much to these young boys about not communicating in relationships if we don't take our own damn advice," I concurred and nestled into his broad right shoulder and pec. "I feel thoroughly fucked out."
"Me too, with an ass to show for it," He laughed.
"You think he's going to be all right at the cabin all alone?" I asked, switching gears.
"Well," he began, "if reporters do show up, as he's afraid they'll do, we can say he's not here and to get off our property. Deputy Bill from down the street said to just call him if they became a nuisance."
"I don't know," I began. "I just worried that he's still too frail. I don't care about reporters. He's going to get recognized eventually somewhere but he's probably much safer to avoid in the mountains. But we won't be able to reach him until Monday if he gets wi-fi put in and I hate him having to drive somewhere to talk to us."
"I think he just wanted to be alone. He took more canned goods, left over pancakes, and you all but assaulted him loving all over him. I think he knows we'll be there if he calls," Brock teased me. "He knows we love him, Stud."
"I guess you're right," I demurred. "StillÉ when he sees that video on TMZ! Oh my God, I still can't get over it. It'll kill him all over again."
"He's heartbroken. He saw the real thing up close and personal and at least he knows it's coming. But, he's gotta hurt to heal. And besides, I think there's something with that park ranger I met last spring."
"I think you're imagining things, Brock. He just ran into the guy yesterday. Why'd you get that idea?" I asked.
"I dunno. Daddy's intuition? When he walked in this morning, before the shit hit the fan with Butch, he was smiling. Bouncing really. If I didn't know better, I'd think he'd just gotten laid. Like he used to be when he was just out of college in the apartment, and would come down here and eat everything in the fridge. Before I could ask him about it, Butch walked in. And besides, the only person he mentioned seeing the last two days was that wildlife biologist guy at the cabin doing research."
"Maybe you're right," I said. "But I'd hate for him to rush into something when he's just getting out of a long-term relationship. That sounds like a recipe for disaster."
"Did I say this park service guy was built like a brick shithouse?" Brock teased.
"No, you did not!" I joked. "Was that why you were being so helpful' last spring, allowing him to use the cabin for his research.' You didn't get up to anything with him, did you?"
"Hell no!" Brock teased. "The guy was over-muscled and scary looking. I would've given him the cash in my pocket if he'd asked for it! And there was no ping on my Spidey-scence. I could've sworn the dude is straight."
"Well as far as we know he is and Jason was just happy to be coming home this morning," I countered. "Since we didn't get much info out of him, we'll have to wait until we see him again OR when he calls."
"He'll call," Brock said. "He's a good boy and he knows we're worried. Once he gets settled with the u-haul this afternoon and unpacks, I bet you 5 bucks he goes back to Sword's Store, calls us, buys a six-pack and heads back."
"He's a software entrepreneur now, B," I laughed. "Do you still think he buys 6 packs at the corner mountain store?"
"He's our boy, Luke, and he's home. He'll be okay. You'll see."
"I hope you're right, B," I said, kissing his neck. "I hope you're always right."