[Reunion (Summer 1968) tells of my getting together again with Gordo, the gang, and a gaggle of other gay-gone guys for a weekend at Hidden Lake. As are all the stories in the series, this part is fiction, imagined from life incidents but not actual in the details and persons.]
Those months in the spring and summer of 1968 changed my life because of the change in me. Awakening as a gay guy was part of it, but there was a lot more. I began to see what I was in the world, what I might be, and how I related to all the rest. The people I knew then and associated with made the difference for me.
Living at the house of Mrs. Markus, Dorothy, was the first time I felt I had a real mother who was interested in me as a person and in my future. She was direct, loving, and unpretentious, and I thought very liberated. 'I don't suppose you're looking for a wife,' she stated flatly.
'Not likely, Ma'am.'
'Well then, if you're going to be living without one,' she said, 'these are the things you have to know.'
She taught me a lot of life skills, all things I never got in any of my supposed homes or through schooling. Thanks to her, I learned how to cook, bake bread, make pie crust, turn strawberries and rhubarb into luscious jam, keep a checking account, do taxes, the right way to wash clothes, mend torn clothes, fix seams and hems, even run a sewing machine, type, and a lot more. It was fun; she made it fun.
I gather she knew about Glenn's homosexuality since she referred to his "boyfriends." She sure never questioned about his interest in me, and she had shepherded other young guys in trouble at her house in the past. When Glenn came for the weekends, he never let on that there was anything between us. I thought for sure he'd be jumping me routinely, but we each went to our separate rooms every evening without so much as touching. He didn't get into his "reefer madness" at his mother's house either. Understanding mother, respectful son. I was impressed.
Except for muscle definition and a spreading field of body hair, I'd reach my full growth. Without an exercise room or the kind of heavy work I'd always done, I kept in shape with old -fashioned calisthenics. Besides, I did all of Dorothy's outdoor work and physical labor odd jobs around the neighborhood in that burg. You had a garden to turn over or a hill of dirt to move, I was your man.
I still had a minimal amount of possessions, but had learned to shop church basement rummage sales. Because of them, I had a sturdy black suitcase, shaving kit, worn jeans but new to me, rough-out western boots, work boots, several t-shirts, even a couple pair of work shorts that I'd cut down and hemmed from old jeans. It was hot work at the stamping plant in the summer. Socks, skivvies, and the like I bought at Pamida. I really felt I was on my way to a life of taking care of myself on the cheap.
By summer, Glenn had left the school where he taught us and got another position farther north and closer to his mother. Perhaps he worried over the close call he had with Gordo and me and it was time to move on. Mostly, I think, he got the job on his coaching skills and reputation for team building. Ahem! He also started that summer working on his masters at Bemidji State. I was glad for him, and Dorothy was proud. Would he leave the boys alone this time?
One day he said, 'I'm renting a lake cottage for the fourth of July weekend and having some friends. I want you to come, Lance. Doug is coming up and will stop by on the way to pick you up. Be ready on the fourth.'
'Okay, Glenn. Thanks.' Typical of Glenn, he didn't ask, but told. But I was glad to go. I hadn't really had a break of any kind, studying and working. I had no social life with anyone from work at the stamping plant, and it would be good to be back with some of the gang. And who knew what we would get into? Besides, since April I was 18 and eager to be out and about.
The fourth was a Thursday, meaning that most places were off on Friday too. It would be a long weekend. The metal stamping factory closed for the whole week since so many took vacation times then, it was easier and cheaper for the owners to just close down.
I was antsy most of the morning, waiting for Doug to come by, which he finally did about 11. He had some guy in the front with him. 'Hi buddy,' Doug greeted, 'I want you to meet Ben. We work construction together.'
I knew Doug wanted to be an architect, and I was glad that he'd met a new guy in the building trades, an older guy, about 25, I'd say, and handsome, ruddy, curly sandy-colored haired and freckled. Even sitting down in the front seat, he looked muscular. 'Hi, Lance, I'm Ben Clarke; I'm glad we're finally meeting up.' I nodded back at him as we shook hands.
Doug said, 'And you know the guy in the back.'
'Gordo!' I gasped, and ran around to the other side, tore open the door, and threw myself at him. Trying to hug a guy seated in the back seat through an open car door is not easy.
'Okay, okay,' Doug said out behind the car and getting the trunk open. 'Lets get your luggage settled, get on the road, and you can get reacquainted.'
Gordo smiled his wonderful, rare sunshine smile at me and said, 'Lance, I couldn't pass up this opportunity when I ran into Doug and he told me about the weekend. I've wanted to talk to you for months.'
'Guys, guys, you can say and do anything you want. Ben and I won't mind, but we will pay attention.' When we were all settled in the car, Doug turned the rearview mirror down so that he could see us in the back seat.
Gordo looked, well - stunning. His weeks of army basic and continuous exercise had made this natural beauty into a classic, model-quality hunk. If the army could do this, I was tempted to join up even though I already relished my independence more than anything did. He wore a simple white T, the sleeves rolled up, poured into his jeans with - believe or not - the same kind of boots as mine. He wore a wide beaded belt with an enormous turquoise-encrusted buckle between his tight middle and heavy basket. Of course, his magnificent black hair had been buzzed to his skill, but on him it looked super, accenting his strong and dignified features. Thirty seconds on the scope of him and I was already getting hard. We talked casually for eighty miles, holding hands, if you please, and I wanted to hear all about his life.
Gordo finished his high school equivalency during basic before the army posted him to radio school in New Mexico. He'd met a lot of guys from other native bands around the country and learned marvelous lore from them about ancient beliefs and practices without a hint of tribal rivalry. 'Not like the neighboring Ojibwa,' he said; 'my family always warned me against them. Old enemies, phooey!' He told me straightaway that he had not screwed with other guys; it was tempting, but too dangerous for one who now saw the army as his ticket to a better life.
'I'm sorry,' I said at that point, 'for the past problems in our lives. I've regretted leading you on to that trouble every hour of the day since we parted.'
'We were wrong,' he said, 'working up a private fuck in a public place. I don't blame you for any of it. I wanted you as much as you wanted me. I still do.' We sat in reverie and anticipation for the final miles of winding roads to our weekend destination.
Glenn was surprised and, I think, miffed to see Gordo, whom he hadn't expected. Gordo's arrival meant we had an odd number aboard. Glenn introduced his other friends, Dirk and Georgias in biker leathers. Dirk, who turned out to be Doug's second cousin, was a summer school student at Bemidji State where he had reconnected with Glenn, his former coach. He'd been the team's star center two year's previous, Doug told me. 'Never missed a free-throw and took the team to state in '66.' I could see from how tall and long-fingered he was that he'd been able to control basketball with one hand. I imagined his cock as long or longer than I remembered Doug's to be. Talk about self-suck!
Georgias or Dr. Georgias - I could never get if this was his first or last name - taught at some seminary somewhere in central Minnesota and was Dirk's sugar daddy or some such moniker. They had just arrived ahead of us having driven over from Bemidji on Georgias' motorcycle.
Glenn was ready to get us settled. He had the room towards the lake, a large room with a queen (!) size bed. Glenn referred to it as oversize. Georgias and his boy would be in a small room, scarcely bigger than the double bed that just about filled it. And then there was a room at the back with two antique double beds.
Glenn said, 'Two of you will be here and two with me. Gordo and Lance.'
'Glenn,' Gordo said at once, 'Lance and I plan to have some time alone together. You understand.'
I don't think I'd ever before seen a grown man pout. 'Well, there's the hide-a-bed, the couch in the front room. It's not very comfortable.'
'That's okay,' Gordo said.
Glenn showed us around outside. Not only was the cottage on a deserted lane, but the surrounding trees and the arc of the bay also meant that this part of the lake was secluded from any neighbors. The called the place "Hidden Lake," though the lake itself wasn't hidden, just this cove. The lake, with the docks out to it, looked very inviting. I could only imagine what kind of sport would take place amidst this much seclusion.
'So,' Glenn concluded his itinerary, 'it's hot and going to be hotter. I suggest you wear as little as you want. It's clothing optional here, by the way.' That made sense; no wonder the nature boy rented it.
Gordo and I put our stuff with Doug and Ben in the back bedroom. We switched to shorts and tanks. Then we helped Dirk and Georgias carry in the boxes of food and booze they'd brought, packed in a trailer behind the motorcycle. Georgias would do all the cooking, that was understood.
It was clear that Dirk idolized the older man, about fifty by my guess, but attractive, solid if a little hefty. Dirk looked to Georgias ever time he spoke and was always on the lookout for his daddy's every request and eager to run and do it. Georgias, also called Geo, but never George, and sometimes Professor or Dok with the 'k' sound as a guttural, did have a commanding presence and a voice, clearly understandable, but rich with an accent the origin of which I could never figure.
Geo was of Armenian parents, born near the end of WWI in Tblisi, he told us - wherever that was - and educated in Athens, Paris, and Jerusalem. He'd been a priest after WWII in Ethiopia, Egypt and Lebanon, and only God knows how many degrees he had and languages he spoke. He'd been in the U.S. about ten years. I thought Glenn was hairy, but Georgia's was hairy in the extreme, covered front AND back as he stood before us shirtless. He wore boxers, the cloth so thin you could see through it the outlines of all his important stuff.
'I see you're looking at my palang, young Lance - a very appropriate name for you I'm sure - let me show you my piercing all the better.' He pulled down his shorts to show the metal bar running through the head of the glans.
The sight of it made me a little sick, but I couldn't take my eyes of it. 'You've never seen a palang, I suppose, but quite popular in Borneo with the natives. Then, soldiers brought the thrill of it back to the U.S. after the war.'
He motioned to Dirk who was over to us in a second. Georgias pointed his index finger up, and Dirk raised his tank to his neck, showing a ring through each nipple with a chain looped between. 'Nice, don't you think, young Lance?' Georgias placed his left hand down the back of Dirk's shorts and his right down the front, bending to Dirk's chest and biting each nipple. Dirk grimaced and smiled, his eyes looking elated.
'Let's go for a swim,' Gordo said. Most of our crew were already in the lake. We stripped to our jock straps and jumped in off the end of the dock.
Though July, the water was still cold, temperate when you were used to it and very pleasant on a hot day. We paddled around, neither Gordo nor I ever having had swimming lessons, and joined in the general horseplay among Doug, Ben and Glenn, who was naked, of course. A little later Dirk, wearing now some kind of bikini with no seat but a shred of material between his buttocks, came and swam long laps between the dock and a floating platform about 50 meters out. Finally, Geo wadded in, also nude.
I learned from Doug at this point about Mike. Right after graduation, Mike left town for parts unknown, some said Chicago. The story was he had got drunk at a New Year's Eve party and made it with a girl in our class and from that fling got her preggers. Even though she was six months along at graduation, Mike had avoided any obligation and was not about to do so. Instead, he disappeared. The baby was due the first of September; the girl and her none-to-happy parents would be stuck with the kid.
I was glad I shot my gizz exclusively on my self and on/into other guys. No babies for me. But, it did make me feel sorry for Mike and everyone else concerned. Lucky me, I thought. If I ever get to fuck Gordo, he'll never get pregnant.
Geo, who was obviously not a deepwater fan - waist high water didn't show his palang bitten whanger - shortly left us to go inside and make treats. After awhile, Gordo suggested we go and help. 'Lance, don't cover yourself.
We'll wear our jocks in and see what happens.' Georgias was making hors-d'oeuvres, singing to himself and dancing side to side, shaking his butt, hairy and bare as he wanted it to be.
'Ah, gentlemen,' he recognized us, 'set up the umbrella on the patio. Make sure there are enough chairs. Go to the garage and get the beer and ice out of the other refrigerator. Find glasses. Very good.' Gordo went out, and I looked for glasses in the kitchen cupboards.
Geo came behind me with a nimble finger quickly up my bare ass that the jock straps revealed. This is what comes, I supposed, from "seeing what will happen." We just about had a broken glass catastrophe, but Dok withdrew and licked off the index finger that had entered me. 'Umm, young Lance, very good. I'm going to want more.'
'Pardon me, Dok, do I know you? I'm spoken for.'
Georgias laughed heartily. 'Ah, the foolishness of the young. I want your tight ass, and I'm going to have it.'
'Meanwhile,' I said, 'I have these errands to do.'
He groped my cock then right through the fabric of my jock. 'Come on, young Lance; I know what you little boys really want.' He laughed again and I hurried about business outside, warning Gordo to stay away from Doktor G.
We'd all been in the sun at least a couple hours and Glenn made sure that lotion was passed all around. Pretty soon, six healthy young studs, ranging from 18 years to those across the 20s, were glistening in the afternoon sun.
I thought we all looked damned good in our various states of undress with our great bodies and mop heads of hair the Beatles had made the trend. Even Glen had let his hair grow over the summer, though Gordo was trim cut and Doug looked like he was groomed for law school.
Georgias in an oversized t-shirt with some foreign script on it came out with the first of many trays. He wore a jock dyed red, which covered his pierced prong hanging just below the shirt. We munched and drank and exchanged chitchat. I'd had a few beers with Mrs. Markus over the summer, but never more than one at a time. With my third in my hand, I thought it best to take a walk, sort of stumbling away from the table.
I was pissing in the pines behind the cottage when Ben came after me. 'Are you all right.'
'Sure, thanks, just too much Hamms too fast.' I looked at him seeing him for the first time, a really handsome guy, fetching in his swimsuit that barely covered his bodacious basket of goodies. 'You're really a great looking guy,' I said, the beer talking before I realized what I'd said.
'So are you, Lance, really great.' He reached over and cupped my jock full of festering cock and balls. 'I kinda go for you,' Ben said; 'we should get together later.'
'What about Doug,' I stammered; 'aren't you with him?'
'Doug is all right, and I enjoy fooling with him, but he never wants to go far enough. You know what I mean.'
'You mean you've never fucked with him?'
'That's what I mean to put it bluntly.'
'And you think we might fuck?' A few months earlier, talk like this would have made me blush and stammer; now I was forthright. Instead gay awareness made me all the more randy.
'We might.' An expectant smile burst across his face.
I looked at him hard, trying to size things up in my fogged head. 'Ben, you are God's gift to us gay guys, I've tried to say that. But I'm here with Gordo; we've had a thing for one another all year, and we've been apart for four months. I've got to be with Gordo before he's gone again, you understand.'
Ben looked glum with disappointment. He took a pull on his beer, and said, 'Lance, just keep me in mind.' And, he bent to kiss me. Sex maniac that I am, I kissed him back.
'You go back first, Ben. I'm going around the house on the other side.'
About that time, the guys were getting really looped on the beer and Geo on ouzo. Then the palang-headed Doktor announced 'Dinner is served,' and after lining up at the can in the cottage and in the garage, we came to a well-spread and attractive table, cloth-covered and festooned with candles, flowers and savory dishes. More elegance than we were up to in our jocks, swimsuits and birthday suits, though Glenn had a robe on by then, and Dirk wore a towel under which Master G could grope him whenever he wanted as we ate.
Glenn declared that we were all going to Brainerd to see the fireworks and we'd take two cars. Doug would drive his with Ben, Geo and Dirk. Glenn would take Gordo and me. We'd do some barhopping after the fireworks, so we should dress for it. It was back to jeans, boots, etc. Gordo rode in front with Glenn and told him much the same stuff he'd told me. The fireworks were the best I'd seen in my brief life, and the bar scene a new experience for me. Nobody checked us thanks to the press of the crowd, and because most of us were of age or close to, they thought we all were. The bars had a lot of young people, I thought, and the guys, most of them on the prowl, outnumbered the women. I really paced myself, as did Gordo. Instead, we smoked a lot of cigarettes; that seemed the thing to do in a bar.
At closing time, Glenn asked the gang to take his car back. He'd met someone who was going to come back with him later. Neither Gordo nor I drove, so Ben drove Glenn's car. Doug and Ben found the way back easily enough though it was an hour's trip through the dark woods. After pit stops to relieve ourselves, Geo called 'Skinny-dipping!' and we shucked off what we had in short order to hit the bracing water.
Gordo and I paired off quietly, paddling a ways out together. I felt energized by the water and aroused by the swirl of it around my not-so-private privates. Gordo and I took turns swimming between one another's legs, moving closer and closer to our prized possessions. We were back towards shore where we could stand with our heads above water. Gordo came up close to me, cock to cock, and began to play with my buttocks, as did I his, then into my asshole, as did I his.
'The others have gone in,' he said, 'it's time you plank me.' He led me up the ladder to the dock end where a bench was set for those who sat and fished. He lay on his stomach his legs off to the sides and those bronze moons up at me. I straddled the bench behind him and coursed his back and buttocks with a forceful massage. He groaned and mumbled in Lakota, praising some god, I thought, for my brotherhood to him.
I bent to lick him, pulling his round rump apart to lick his hot waiting pucker. I trembled as the long-held fantasy come over me of what was about to become reality. After months of longing, my every urge was to merge with him. Witlessly, my tongue was plying his hole as I played at his ass ring, salivating and slurping to work my tongue out as long as I could and stick it up his channel. He raised his butt to me, straightening his legs and supporting himself on his folded arms. 'Lance, take me. I want you inside me.'
Still straddling the bench I rose on my legs to meet his level, guiding my dripping cock to enter his hungry chute. He felt hot and wet as I eased my cockhead in, Gordo pushing back at me as I pushed inwards centimeter by fucking centimeter. I had my hands on his waist as I made my way until I felt him clamp up. I eased and reached over his shoulders, my left index pressing in his mouth as he sucked it, my right finding his balls, holding them tight, kissing his back.
'Gordo, my buddy Gordo, may this be the first of a thousand loving days and nights together.' He relaxed and I continued, reaching into him, till the hairs of my bush brushed the rosette of his hole. And I began the slow back and forth swing that was sure to follow.
'Do me, Lance, don't be stingy. Do me without stopping no matter how I cry out. I can feel you within me as I've never felt you before. Go, go, go.'
I was back to holding him by his sides, rocking my ass to stimulate in him what he had done to me that night in March under Glenn's direction except now it was just us. I concentrated on this fuck, my thrusts and own exhilaration mounting, increasing in tempo. The buzz had returned only now I was the master of the fuck and working him into a mutual frenzy. I felt for his wondrous tool, big in its hard roundness in my hand, and I jacked as I banged away, faster and faster, harder and harder.
'Holy mother of God,' he cried. 'Give me your all; fill me with your million heads of spunk. Aghh..' His words drowned in the garbled language of the burning spirit that destroys all words and consciousness between lovers.
We were one as I felt the hot rush of his cum over my hand, as my nuts exploded and I, too, came within him. He backed up upon me, knocking me on my back as he miraculously turned, my cock twisting within him. He sat around facing me, riding me, bucking on and humping my engorged tool as it shot, shot, shot up into him. Then he fell on me; we fell off the bench onto the dock, face to face, kissing and tonguing, full of sweat and the rushing heat of ecstatic union.
I'd done the mutual jackoff that most teen boys must experienced; I'd been sucked and sucked cock; I'd been fucked - once by Gordo. Now I'd fucked him, my one fuck. I felt complete and satisfied, and then he said, 'I promised you, remember.'
'Always.' He'd said "Later," the one word that had given me hope.
Applause and shouts erupted from the patio. 'Bravo, bravo.' 'Well fucked.'
'Star performance.' 'Encore, encore.'
I said, 'Gordo, let's roll off the dock and drown ourselves.'
'You over dramatic bastard,' Gordo said, 'Let's roll off the dock, stay under water as long as we can, and scare them.' And so we did.
Gordo and I were in love; that's the facts. And blissfully so. When we went back to the cottage, fresh from our fuck and the cool off in the lake, our cocks shrunk back to conventional size but still hanging out there, we didn't give a rip-shit at the jiving from the others. We just passed right by them and decided that since Glenn still wasn't back with whomever he shacked up with, we'd take his bedroom.
Spent from the long day, excitement, boozing and mating ritual we got into bed and sunk into sudden slumber, but not before settling into one another's arms. I felt I was back to the origin of the race when men lived with men and women lived apart in their own village of separate huts.
Fortunately, we slept until midmorning when Glenn rousted us out of his bed.
'Fine buddies, you are. You won't sleep with me, but when my back is turned, there you are nestling together in my bed. Remember, it was I who brought you together.'
Gordo didn't skip a beat. 'Pardon me, Glenn; I thought it was you who kept us apart.'
'Details,' he said. 'Anyway, it's time to get up. Georgias has breakfast going.'
We met Denny at the table, a twenty-something guy, muscled and tan, with long, bleached blond hair; he looked like a surfer but was a bartender at one of the places we'd visited the night before. Glenn and Denny had closed the saloon, fucked one another on top of the bar - something Dennis had always wanted to do - and crashed on the hide-a-bed when they got back rather than rousting us out. Gordo and I thanked them for that.
After breakfast, Glenn took Denny into his room for another go, and Gordo and I decided to take the canoe out. Gliding across the water on the warming day with little interruption from speedboats or fishers proved idyllic. We stopped at a convenience store to get sunglasses because the glare off the lake was the only nuisance. On our way back, we paddled into a little cove where there was a small country church.
'I want to go inside,' Gordo said. It turned out to be a mission or reservation church, Saint Aloysius, where the figures of the saints and holy family were by local artists and therefore had native features. I didn't know any of this, having never been taken to church, though invited many times by Dorothy Markus to join her at the Methodists. But Gordo was Catholic and explained it all to me.
We were barefoot and in shorts and tanks but no matter. I went with him up to the steps before the altar and knelt when he knelt, not knowing what else was appropriate. He put his right arm around me and held my right wrist with his left as I grasped his wrist back. It seemed a manly, warrior's embrace to me. 'Bow your head,' he said. I obliged; anything for Gordo. I didn't know we were getting into a prayer.
'Great Spirit, we thank you for your sustaining love for the universe and for all your creation, and that You, who walk upon all the waters of all the worlds, teaching us to love one another, have brought us two together in that love. Keep us in your love and in love towards one another and all our fellows, families, households, and nation. Amen.'
When we raised our heads, a wrinkled, old man wearing a long black robe stood before us, tears running down his cheeks. He placed his hands on our heads, saying, 'Mighty spirit, bless these two children of your parentage and calling, who have sworn a bonding oath and who call upon you for blessing and strength in the days and decades ahead.'
Father Justus gave us lunch and guided us to the guest bedroom so that we might have private time together. We lay naked in the sheets that smelled of fresh air and sunshine, playing with one another. There we fell asleep until mid afternoon, when waking we kissed with increasing passion. Gordo made love to me until wild as I was under him, we thought it was time we should leave. Father Justus was not to be found, but Gordo left him a 'God be with you' note and we empted our pockets of all our spare change and crumpled bills.
When we had returned with the canoe, the happy hour was in progress, and I guessed everyone could see how sincerely happy we were. Gordo and I joined in the beers and smoked up the last of the cigarettes from the previous night while Glenn, el-buffo, complained about our 'filthy habit' to his new buddy, Denny, who wore one of Dirk's loincloths.
Once again we assembled in our most informal attire for a festive meal and a lot of bantering. I guessed Denny was playing hooky from work, had called in sick or something. Somehow, it was decided we should all go to the nearby burg and see the second showing of The Graduate. I was out of cash, so Gordo treated me. I guess it was our first date. Gordo and I thought the movie embarrassing; the Dustin Hoffman character was cute but so stupid.
We slunk down in our seats and made out, hurrying at the ending to the urine-scented jon downstairs to beat off in the toilet stall and relieve ourselves.
More bar hopping and back to the lake with the tradition of our skinny-dipping established. 'You might as well have my room,' Glenn told Gordo, who told me. He and Denny went in with Doug and Ben. Gordo and I lay in the big bed, fondling and whispering, picking up on the moaning coming from Geo and Dirk and the rather loud creaking and banging coming from the room with two beds. 'That last night at the motel,' I said to Gordo, 'I was jealous, hearing through the wall Coach fucking you.'
'Let me explain it to you,' Gordo said. 'Coach played a workup game with us guys. He figured out who were the curious ones, who were willing to experiment, and who would go along with his way of male-male sex. He befriended the curious among us like Mike, played carefully with the experimenters like Doug, and swung with the us queers like you and me. Get the progression - sophomore, junior, senior?'
'Yes.' Gordo had sized Glenn up beyond my reckoning.
'I bet with Dirk, he had the sex demon three times a night and once in the morning. One time he even fucked him in the back of a team bus on the way home from a long-distance game. The rest of us were supposedly asleep, Glenn must have thought, but I heard them from where I sat nearby. The first time Coach fucked me was in the back seat of his car when he took me home from after school practice. He promised me all kinds of things. I fucked him back right away, and ever after that he couldn't get enough of me plowing him. I wanted those promises. So what you heard; that was me fucking him. He really wanted it, and I figured I had to oblige.'
'Okay,' I said; I did understand. Any residue of jealousy I had was gone. Gordo did what he thought he had to do. I was no purist.
Gordo said, 'I pretended I was fucking you.' Then I turned on Gordo and sucked him off, and we slept.
I woke early on Saturday and traced the smell of coffee to the kitchen. Geo had been puttering, but was sitting out in the waking world. I poured a cup and joined him; he didn't bother to close his robe open over his girth and the growth below it. 'Good morning, Young Lance. Come to meditate with me?'
'Sorry if I interrupted.'
'No, no. But I do love the early dawn, each day a new promise.'
'You are an optimist.'
'Only by preference; basically I am a realist.'
'Sorry; meaning?'
'Everything exists only as it is; we make our own interpretations.'
'Is that what you teach?'
'Not exactly, but I suppose it pervades my teaching. I try to move students to pursue what is real and true, rather than tried and true. You know what I mean, young Lance?'
'Sort of; what do you teach?'
'Systematic theology, church dogmatics, Christology; New Testament Greek, Aramaic, Coptic, whatever is wanted.' Most of what he said meant little to me and was hard to figure out. 'My specialty is the primitive church, from the Apostles to The Council of Nicea. Would you like me to send you my book?'
'I don't know, Dr. Georgias; would I be able to understand it?'
'Please, please, we are friends now; call me Geo as all my friends do. You would understand enough, I think, and more with the passage of time. I observe that you are very intelligent.'
'Thank you, but not schooled. I know nothing about religion.'
'Wonderful, young Lance; then, perhaps, you have no prejudices about it.'
'Certainly not about what I don't know.'
He clapped his hands, and swiftly reaching up under my t-shirt sleeve stroked my shoulder. 'Ah, the beginning of knowledge. Keep that thought.'
He excused himself and brought more coffee for us, stroking my neck and back as he served mine. He poured a little brandy in his and offered the liquor to me. I shook my head. 'What are your plans? Are you going to college?'
'Teacher's college; it's what I can afford. I have no family and am on my own.'
'I would adopt you, young Lance.'
'Have you adopted Dirk?'
He laughed. 'It would not be the same; I am saying I would formally adopt you. Do you want it?'
'I think I best be going ahead on my own plan.'
'Yes, young Lance, that may be best. I was hoping to make life a little easier for you.' 'Thank you.'
'Thank Zachmed Sladek; he's the one who made it easier for me. I am just passing on the favor.'
'I see,' I said.
He told me that it was Glenn's birthday that day, his thirtieth, older than I thought he was, and that he had arranged a surprise present. My share of the cost was $20.00. After all, we should show our appreciation for Glenn's hospitality. I told him I would give him a check.
'That is fine, then I know where to send you my book. Write back to me and tell me what you think.'
'Thank you, Geo.'
Dirk dragged himself towards the coffee, looking much the worse for wear, and soon the assembly was gathered. Doug whispered to me, 'I fucked last night for the first time.'
'Good; you fucked with Ben.'
'No, Denny fucked Ben; I fucked Glenn!' I was amazed; but why should I have been? Seemingly, anything was possible. We all knew how Glenn liked a sizeable cock coursing his innards; that's for sure.
After breakfast, Denny had to get back to Brainerd. He made the rounds and kissed and groped everyone goodbye though Gordo and I had hardly met him. Glenn seemed a little down at his departure but revived and ordered us all into the lake where we cavorted more than swam. Georgias packed a picnic lunch, and Dirk, Doug, Glenn, Gordo and I took the bicycles on hand and met Geo and Ben at a county park on the other side of the lake. They came on Geo's Kawasaki. Ben wore Dirk's leathers and looked really hot stuff. We had wine with lunch, my first taste of the stuff. Better than Kool-Aid, I thought; I liked the dry bite of it. Afterwards we bicyclists continued the other half of the circuit around the lake arriving back at 5ish and immediately stripped for another plunge in the lake.
We talked about going into town again, but I think it was a dodge to throw Glenn off the track. Happy hour was protracted with fancier hors-d'oeuvres, mixed drinks - Gordo and I experimented with whiskey sours and sipped them very slowly - and dancing. Geo taught us Greek and Israeli dances that the men there do together, not too tricky and gave everyone a good feeling of brotherhood. Geo had brought along a box of tapes and played them out on the patio on a little portable.
Finally, we ate, with more booze on the table. I'm sure I had two drinks, but they must have been doubles. I looked at Gordo and he seemed as glazed over as me; I thought we should go outside and puke to get the alcohol out of our systems, but we struggled to stay part of the frivolity.
The sun had set and we were still at the table. Georgias brought the cake with 28 little pink-colored penis-shaped candles standing up on it. Where in the world did Geo get those. We sang - rather drunkenly I'm afraid - "Happy Birthday."
Happy Birthday, Coach Glenn; Happy Birthday, Markus; Happy Birthday, dear asshole; Happy Birthday; screw you.
After generous portions of cake and ice cream, with our stomachs bursting, Geo presented the tier of three boxes wrapped in red, white and blue paper. Geo emceed the event. 'Since we all know that good things come in small packages, you will open the biggest first.' It was a pair of calf-height black motorcycle or riding boots.
'Put them on, put them on; model; model,' we all cried as Geo directed. The middle box was a black leather vest.
'Model; model,' became the refrain. The vest really didn't cover but exposed Glenn's biceps, pectorals and almost the whole field of his furry chest and stomach. Later I was to learn this was called a "bar vest" and meant for cruising. Glenn could use that. The little box held a short black leather strap, studded with steel-colored metal spikes, snapped in a circle. Never having seen one, I thought it was a bracelet.
'Model, model.' Glenn, drunk as the rest of us but dressed for a change, pulled his shorts and jock off and cinched up the strap under his balls and over his cock, snapping it shut.
'So that's what it's for,' I heard myself say. He looked as sexy as I'd ever seen him.
Glenn posed, swiveled his hips and thrust his tool forward, held his arms out wide and called. 'Okay, who wants to fuck the birthday boy?'
'I do, I do,' we all shouted.
'Well, line up.' We charged him, carrying him out to the patio table and plunked him down. Somebody, Geo I suppose, put on some ass-kicking rock tunes and we started jiving and gyrating with one another, rubbing our bodies together, in a kind of free for all, regardless of the usual pairs.
Amazingly, Doug, who must not have had enough the night before, was the first on him, Doug with the least experience and the biggest schlong. Maybe, we should have worked up. It took him awhile, during which time I boogied with Gordo and said, 'Should we leave.'
'Stay; I've got a surprise,' Gordo said.
Ben fucked Glenn second and I got a large charge out of watching his pulsating ass work its magic. Then Dirk was in him while Geo did Dirk from behind. Gordo pushed me forward. Glenn's eyes were glazed over, and Dirk gave him a pill and a drink of water. 'Speed,' he said to my questioning look.
I taunted, 'Glenn, it's Lance, remember me?'
'Lance, the best for last,' he moaned.
'Not quite,' Gordo said, gripping my flopping erection and running it up his gaping ass that three hotrods ahead of me had opened. There was no problem getting it in. I thought Gordo would come in me as Geo had done with Dirk but instead, I felt him slip under my balls and under my cock, and I realized. We were fucking Glenn together.
Glenn, who was sticky and running with spunk from multiple ejaculations, set up a moan that verged on a groan, wordless and low, a long harmonious drone.
I concentrated on Gordo behind, underneath and alongside me, his hands massaging my chest, pinching and pulling my nipples. His wiry bush pressed against my ass cheeks and gave me the hottest sensation of intimacy and daring.
Kissing, tonguing and nipping my ears and the back of my neck, Gordo whispered in that low, soft but strong voice I loved, 'Fuck, fuck, fuck this queer fucking bitch.' We spewed our cum together adding our cream to the smear that poured out on the table, slamming into him so that he was knocked back as the table jostled underneath us.
We collapsed on him, and he said. 'Help me, I can't breath.'
Geo got him up and helped him into the cottage. The good Doktor had already run a hot bath for him and promised poor Glenn, victim of the sexual revolution, a long soak. The rest of us went skinny-dipping. That night Glenn was back in his own bed, exhausted no doubt. We'd all had a big day. Gordo and I slept in the bed intended for us all along with Doug and Ben in the other one. Out like a light, I never heard a sound from anyone all night.
Gradually the company dragged themselves to coffee and breakfast. Geo forged ahead, seeming to be happiest when he was cooking. He announced we were all going to 11 o'clock community mass at Reservation. I assumed church meant 'best clothes,' and since I had nothing special it was jeans, boots, and a clean white T that I borrowed from Gordo. He wore his uniform that just about had me creaming in my pants again. Gordo stood out among us as the rest dressed more casually, Geo even loudly with a wild Hawaiian shirt.
Reservation turned out to be St. Aloysius where Gordo and I had stopped by and were "married" the day previous. The seven of us filed in an unoccupied church bench half way down the aisle. Quite a crowd of Indians, Ojibwa I think, other locals and vacationers filled the place. Our host priest of Saturday, Father Justus, officiated, moving slowly, a little feeble perhaps, with his sweet, comforting voice. When it came to the Eucharist, I wasn't sure what to do, but Gordo beckoned to me and I just followed along. Doug and Ben stayed in their seats. After the service, Father Justus recognized Geo amidst the knots of people standing around outside and talked to him for a while. It seemed that the two clergy knew one another well.
Geo fixed a light lunch, and we began packing up for the return to our destinations. Glenn would be taking Dirk back with him to Bemidji and Geo staying because, we learned, the cottage was his, and Glenn had been renting from him. There was a lot of hugging and kissing all around. Gordo thanked Glenn for his hospitality as did I. Glenn, bless his heart, said, 'I'm really glad you two guys got together.' He sounded sincere.
When we got back to my house, I invited everyone in to meet Mrs. Markus. I made a point in my introduction of Gordo to her so that she would understand he was my "special friend." Dorothy was her usual wonderful self, glad to have company, and made us stay for coffee that turned into quite a spread. I can't say profoundly enough what I felt when the three left me.
Gordo would spend another couple days with his family before flying back to Albuquerque to finish his training. He expected to be sent to Vietnam. 'I will try to write to you,' he said, but I am not good at it.' I was sadder at the thought of a coming distant separation , wordless and of unknown length, than I was over his departure at that instant.