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A truly beautiful day--sunshine, 79 degrees, not a cloud in the sky. God is a hiker.
Mike, in front of me. I cannot take my eyes off his ass in his khaki hiking shorts. I had not even noticed it until yesterday. Now it was all I could take in. Round and firm, it moved as he did; contracted and flexed as he climbed; seemed to ramble on as happily as Mike himself.
That's the other thing, Mike. He's so freaking happy today. That synonym for happy... what is it again? Oh yeah: gay. Mike was quite gay today.
What about me?
I was thinking mostly about the hot-as-South-Texas fucking I'd put to him last night. That pert ass? It had been wrapped around my dick, had nursed me to the biggest climax I'd ever had in my life. Jesus, yes... the biggest. The only other contender would be the load he coaxed from me when he sucked me off a half-hour earlier.
Meanwhile, small problem: I'm still dating his sister. I'm thinking of marrying his sister, for chrissakes. But all I can think about is him.
We had a long hike today, a good day to do it in this weather. We were going to do at least 15 miles, 18 if we're feeling it.
Most of the morning we were silent. The only sounds I could hear were our boots on the trail, the birds above us, and the thoughts in my head:
"Has he always been this good looking?" "Jesus... his sister is going to pick us up in two days." "How long does a severe hickey last?" "That hickey is definitely going to be there in two days." "Jesus... look at that ass." "Do other people think he's hot as I think he is?"
To investigate the last question, I left a little distance between us on the trail--just enough to see how other hikers would respond to him, separate from me. Would they look back at him and check out his ass? Stare at it and miss the landscape of Vermont because it was somehow more beautiful?
A couple of young guys passed us, some post-college hippie dudes. They gave Mike a warm greeting--he has that effect on people, that I know--but they did not, as far as I could see, envision him as a male forest faerie, or as the hottest human creature in the state of Vermont and possibly elsewhere. No staring at his rear, no "did you see that beautiful being?," no unconscious desire to drop everything and start fucking him.
Nope, that thought pattern was all mine.
We stopped for lunch on a ridge. We'd already done ten miles--we had an energetic morning for some reason.
We pulled off on the side of the trail, clambered up the ridge to a quiet spot where we could sit on a granite ledge shaded by a few trees.
I pulled out the food sack--we had pita, peanut butter, some trail-mix with M&Ms and raisins, and some Kool-Aid. Got to have Kool-Aid.
I mixed the Kool-Aid and he set up the lunch fixings. We didn't speak, didn't need to. We started stuffing our faces with food, desperate to replace the calories we cranked off already, eager to prep ourselves to go another eight miles or so this afternoon.
I had a lot of anxiety around this moment. On the one hand, I've had a fucking wet spot in my pants since 7:30 this morning due to this guy. On the other hand, I was in a terrible situation. I'd fucked my girlfriend's brother. What's worse is that I'd fucked him better, hotter, harder than I'd ever fucked his sister.
So we sat there, ate our dry, functional lunch, gulped the Kool-Aid. He ended up with a red stain on his lips from whatever dye they put in that stuff.
We were literally silent for the entire meal. Except for one stupid thing that I said:
"We were pretty messed up, so what happened last night... it doesn't matter. And it's probably not something we need to revisit... or anything..."
I trailed off because I could hear that I sounded like an asshole. And a liar. A lying asshole. Of course it fucking mattered what happened last night.
Mike was listening to me carefully. His eyes, first open and warm and receptive, took on a pallor of naive pain. They swelled a little, a welling of "what the fuck did you just say?" in them. Then he just stared deeply into my eyes, into the back of my eyes and into my soul to see if I was being honest.
Obviously I was not.
I was in raging love with this beautiful young man and was far, far too uncomfortable with that fact to embrace it.
He must have seen that. A fragment of my love, my passion, my desire for him.
That's all he would need to see.
We kept looking at each other, silently, for a few minutes. I don't know if I have engaged in a more personal experience than that. We allowed each other into our honest souls, a place where I could tell him without any words that he was so beautiful, so important to me, that I did not whether I could handle him.
After those intense few minutes, Mikey slid down off the rock, stood on a ledge in front of me. He put his hands and forearms on my thighs, over my shorts. He kept his eye contact as he undid my belt and swiftly pulled my shorts and underwear down. I was bare-ass on the cool granite, and my dick was swelling upwards.
He kept our gaze as he slid the tip of my dick into his mouth. I sighed deeply and leaned back onto my elbows. He worked my dick confidently into his mouth. He was trying to show something to me, to prove something. I just needed to bear witness.
As he worked me in and out, he kept his gaze upon me. Such a personal experience, to see someone you know and love, someone with whom you've had trials and tribulations, attempting to give you sheer pleasure. Out of love. Out of desire. Out of... connection? I don't know. There is something beyond our ability to label here. We had a oneness in that moment that goes beyond description.
I tipped my head forward and watched. He leaned his head backward, stared at my face as he brought my cock to full pleasure. My dick was so hard and the feeling so good that my eyes started to roll back into my head. I thought I would lose control. I forgot where I was. My ass cheeks trembled and shook.
My breath choked up. I tried to clench up, to hold my cum back. It was impossible. My dick exploded, heaving and spewing cum, whatever cum I had leftover since last night. I made noises that would have been unmistakable if anyone was on the trail nearby.
Mikey kept working me, slowing his motions down, easing up the pressure on my penis as it softened, cleaning both my dick and his hand as I wound up.
Once we had both come back to earth, he rested his forearms on my thighs again, looked me in the eyes again and said, "so we don't need to revisit this again?"
Point taken, little bro. Though I don't think he felt as tormented over the position his sister was in--her brother and her boyfriend in love in the wild together.
We hiked another ten miles that day--which made 20 for the day. We did not talk much, but the silence was not unfriendly. It was a bit tense. I think we kept walking because I wanted to exhaust us, wanted to take away any energy we had left for fucking around that night. I was looking for any way to avoid the inevitable... what we both knew would happen the next time the two of us were in one tent in the cool Green Mountain night.
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