The emails I've been getting are wonderful! Please keep writing!
BTW, Nifty has been quite kind in allowing me to re-post Chapters 1, 2 and 3. The formatting was terrible! (Why didn't y'all tell me it was so bad?) As I've said previously, this is the first story I've posted to Nifty. The formatting errors were the result of a file conversion problem. It seems to be fixed now, so if you see any errors in other chapters, they're all mine!
BTW #2, be sure to donate to Nifty! Keep this service free! Here's a URL: /nifty/support.html#monetary
Live simply, love generously, care deeply and speak kindly. Leave the rest to God. ;)FROM THE END OF CHAPTER 6:
I took a deep breath as my sanity slowly returned. My chest hurt. I took another deep breath. It felt like an elephant was sitting on my chest. Suddenly I realized my left arm ached. Really ached. Oh, dear God! Is this what I think it is? I held my arm, tight. My heart was beating funny and I was getting lightheaded. I started breathing deeply. I think I winced. I coughed hard. I suddenly felt a little better, but not enough. A stabbing pain started in my chest. The aching in my arm started shooting down to my wrist.
"Tim?"
He was looking at me funny. So was Stevey. I must have been pale.
"Alan? Are you all right?"
I hesitated. I was about to scare him. Actually, I was about to scare the Hell out of both boys, but I couldn't help it.
As calmly as I could I said, "No, I don't think so. My phone's over there. Would you please call 9-1-1?"
Nudist Camp Vacation CHAPTER 7 Tim's hands shook violently and his voice quivered when he made the call. My concern about him helped distract me from my own fear that I was about to die. A strange calmness came over me finally, as my thoughts drifted to Robert. My vision of him began to grow stronger. I don't know how long it took for EMS (Emergency Medical Services) to arrive, but it seemed like an eternity. They probably arrived in minutes, but when you're scared, minutes seem like hours. Tim and Stevey were scared, too. Oddly enough it occurred to me that it was probably good for Stevey to worry about something other that his own horror. At least his appeared to be over. Mine was just beginning. The boys hovered over me. When the EMS team arrived, I happened to notice at least one of the team sporting massively tented trousers. It was nice to see that at least one of my rescuers was likely of similar mind. They were all quite distracted by my naked friends. It was nice that I was discretely covered with a thick cotton sheet before they strapped me to the stretcher and put me in the ambulance. As it turned out, they only transported me to a waiting helicopter. I was Starflighted to Austin. Pissed me off, too. I'd never been in a helicopter and I wanted to look out the window. They pointed out to me that it wasn't a sightseeing tour! Those guys had no sense of humor! A strange thing happened on the way to the hospital. If I didn't know better, I could have sworn Robert was there in the helicopter. The light in the helicopter was awfully bright, but it didn't seem to hurt my eyes. I remember dreaming (or was it a dream?) that he told me it wasn't my time yet, and that I had to stay. The noise in the helicopter was deafening, but I heard him clearly. He also said he liked Tim and I ought to give him a chance. Weird, huh? I'm pretty sure it was just my need to have Robert there. I was freaking out. My doctor later told me that I tried at least once to check out of this mortal toil during the 20-minute flight to the hospital in Austin. It wasn't intended, I assure you. After he made sure I was stable, my newly assigned cardiologist decided to perform an angiogram. The nurse who gave me a bikini shave was quite amused that I had managed to lose my tan line. Actually, he left me with something like an odd Hitler moustache. He shaved both sides of my groin, but left the pubes above my dick. I did catch him checking out my package. Of course it was all right there in front of his nose! >From the look in his eyes I expect he had more than a professional interest in me. (My gay-dar went off!) He was young and cute, but not my type. Besides, I had enough young-ones to worry about without yet another! He was very nice, though, and he made me laugh. The cardiologist was another story. At over six feet tall, slender, blond and blue-eyed, he was quite something to behold. He was probably in his late thirties or early forties, but he had that baby face many blonds have. So far he had been quite professional. My gay-dar, however, had yet to register anything. When he got ready to insert the catheter into my femoral artery (where my pubes had been), I saw him do a double take. The only area not tanned was where I had been shaved. He smiled wide and asked, "Getting much sun lately?" I blushed. "A little. I've been vacationing at a nudist camp." His eyebrows did that skyrocket thing. "Really? I'll have to talk to you about that later!" Everyone seems to be titillated by the thought of visiting a nudist camp! (Then again, so am I!) If I hadn't been so drugged, I probably would have propped a woody on his arm and said, "Can you take care of this for me?" It was probably because of the drugs that I thought of it. I was being goofy. However, he was kind of cute . . . But I digress. The procedure revealed I had serious blockages in a couple of the arteries carrying blood to my heart. The doc placed a couple of stents and the relief was wonderfully immediate. It felt like a lead weight on my chest just vanished. The doc expressed satisfaction when I told him that. He then explained that I was to spend a few days in "a private room in their excellent guest quarters" and "partake of their gourmet cuisine." Don't you love a doctor with a sense of humor? I groaned when I remembered what I'd heard about hospital food. As I was being wheeled out of the operating room, I was told that I was not to lift my head for twelve hours. I guessed it was either because they didn't want the extra blood from my head to increase the pressure on the huge puncture they made in my groin, or it might have been to prevent the flexing of the muscles in that area. Whatever it was, I had to concentrate on lying in a prone position without lifting my head. (Try it sometime. It's not easy!) It was fun (NOT!) to try to eat. For some reason I was starving. Maybe the drugs gave me the munchies. Anyway, I was in the hospital bed, the food was on a tray in front of me and I couldn't lift my head to see it. I treated it like a problem to overcome. I tried to find a fork or spoon, but I couldn't locate any silverware by feel alone. Feeling for the food on the plate, all I managed to do was get food all over my fingers. It was impossible to negotiate the food to my mouth without getting it everywhere but my mouth. I couldn't find a straw and likewise, I couldn't manage to prepare a carton of juice to drink. So near and yet so far. It was at that moment that my yearning for Robert came flooding back. I had come very close to joining him and I needed him badly. My sorrow and self pity came flooding back with interest. I had no one. No one to care about me or for me. I had just begun to choke and sob convulsively when Bill came waltzing into my room. How embarrassing! His friendly face suddenly mutated into genuine concern. "Alan? What's wrong? I just heard you were here. Lucy called me in a panic to tell me you'd been brought here by ambulance. You're gonna be all right, aren't you?" Lucy's my secretary. I remembered that I listed her as my "emergency contact" when I was admitted and I asked them to call her for me. She knew all the right people to call to let them know where I am. Bill would have been first on her list. I salvaged enough control to stifle my emotional outburst. I wiped my nose and eyes on my wrists. Bill found a box of tissues and handed me a few. "Thanks, Bill. Just a little residual self-pity is all. I'm fine! I just had some blockage in my heart. A little well placed metal mesh and I'm good to go!" I forced myself to sound cheery, but Bill wasn't buying it. "Yeah, right! You just had major surgery on your heart and you're talking about it as if you had a haircut! What's wrong with you? This is serious business! There's a reason there's a cliché, `serious as a heart attack'!" His verbal vomit gave me enough time to recover from my soppy episode. I chuckled. "If you had been through it like I just did, you'd feel the same. It's remarkable! The procedure seems so routine! I know it's serious, but with what our doctors know now, it's not nearly as serious as it used to be." "Yeah, well, if it was anyone else, I might not be so excited. You're the guy at the helm! You're the leader and owner of our destiny! You're the one with the vision! If you leave us, we're in a rudderless ship! You have people relying on you, Alan! You HAVE to take care of yourself!" Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a beautiful face appear. It had two large dark brown eyes that were popping out at me. It was Tim. He was a vision. For that matter, he's always a vision. "Alan?" He walked carefully into the room. He was totally focused on me, but glanced at Bill as Bill turned toward him. Tim seemed shocked to see Bill there. He eyed Bill with a suspiciously appraising look, but with the respect usually shown to one's boss. "Mr. Matheson! What're you doing here? Sorry, I didn't mean it to sound like that. So, you know Alan, too?" Bill turned to me and smiled as if to say, "You're gonna owe me for this!" then turned back to Tim. "Call me Bill. Yeah, Alan and I go way back. We're old friends." Bill turned back to me and said, "Well, I'd better go. Mary's expecting me. Remember what I told you, hear?" He growled that last part. I smiled. "Yeah, I hear. Thanks for coming by. Kiss Mary and the girls for me?" He nodded and shook my hand warmly. He was a very close friend indeed, but his friendship was more like a brother's. My only sibling, my sister, is ten years younger than me and she lives with her husband and family in another state. We were never what you'd call close. When our mother died, she didn't want anything to do with the business, so I bought her share from her. I haven't had much to do with her since. I suspect her husband is a bit of a homophobe, so maybe it's just as well I don't communicate with her. With the loss of everyone else in my life, my father a few months before I graduated from college, my mother 15 years ago and Robert almost three years ago, Bill became my closest friend and confidant. Bill gave Tim's shoulder a friendly pat as he walked past him toward the door. Tim watched him walk out the door then turned to me. "How do you know Mr. Matheson, er, Bill?" It was time to lie! Or at least stretch the truth. "Oh, we met in school. We've known each other since we were kids." It wasn't a complete lie! We were Tim's age when we met in college and I classify Tim as a "kid." I wasn't lying, not really. "Oh," he said suspiciously, but he didn't press the issue. He lifted a small overnight bag from his side and set it on the bed next to me. He smiled at me. "I thought you could use a few things from home." He reached in a brought out my cell phone. I thought I was gonna hemorrhage without my cell phone! I have all my phone numbers in it! I can remember some of the numbers, but not all of them. Then he pulled out clothes! Bless him; I could have plastered a big one on him if I thought he wouldn't get the wrong idea! Then he pulled out a robe and slippers. "I hope I picked the right stuff. I'm not very good about choosing clothes for other people. Actually, I'm not very good about choosing clothes for myself, either. I found these things in your motor home. You weren't wearing much when they took you from the camp, so I figured you might need something to wear when you get out of here." He smirked when he spoke of how little I was wearing. I chuckled. I like his dry sense of humor. I finally focused on him. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt. It must have been silk, or at least a nice synthetic. It had the quality of clinging to him at times and sliding along his muscles at others. It showed off his nicely formed pecs and even his abs. At the angle I was lying I couldn't see below his chest without lifting my damn head! But his chest is nice enough to look at. I find it amazing that he's even more enticing with clothes on! I'm awfully grateful for being covered. I could feel the swelling in my groin pull on my bandages. I shifted to hide my growing bulge. "Tim, I can't tell you how much I appreciate this. This is so thoughtful of you! I'll have to think of how to repay you." His red eyes twinkled with lust. "You don't have to repay me, but there is something I'd like." He hesitated and blushed then licked his lips. Did I say "red eyes?" I looked again. Yes, they're bloodshot! I hope that's not what I think it is. I think I have an idea of what was going through his mind (I'm not always very swift at catching innuendo), but I wanted to see if he'd put it into words. I guess I wanted to tease him back for all the times he's put me on the spot in the last two days. "Tell me what reward you'd like." He opened his mouth and took in a deep breath. His chest expanded so much I could see his erect nipples through the slinky shirt material. Then he did this guppy thing with his mouth, repeatedly wanting to say something and stopping himself. I had an impulsive need to lick my lips just then. (My mouth was dry!) His gaze was riveted to my mouth. He finally croaked, "I'll tell you later." He quickly looked around and spied my cold, untouched supper. "You haven't touched your food! Aren't you hungry?" "I'm starved! But I can't lift my head for another eleven hours, so I can't see to find the silverware and feed myself." I suddenly realized I was whining. "I could feed you!" He seemed just a little too anxious to help, but I was in no condition to turn him down. I really didn't want to feel so helpless in his presence, nor did I want him to feel like I needed him. I decided to bury my pride for the sake of my desperate need. "Thanks, I'd appreciate that." He treated me to a wide, dimpled smile. (He just never stops being gorgeous!) He jumped at the tray and grabbed the packaged silverware I couldn't find. It only occurred to me then that I probably could have called a nurse to help me, but that felt too much like an imposition. He quickly set up the tray to feed me then moved it closer to my chest. He found a towel and placed it on my chest just under my chin for a bib. "Are you thirsty?" "Am I thirsty? I think I could drink a lake dry!" He chuckled. Quickly, he opened a container of juice and stuck a straw in it. It was one of those bendy straws, thank goodness! He carefully brought it down to my mouth and held the straw to my lips. I sucked it dry before I was done. I watched him watching me. As I sucked on the straw, his mouth fell open and stayed there. His breathing became ragged. I could see this was about to become an erotic meal. He must have a thing about mouths. Without saying anything, he picked up the fork and skewered some spinach. Ordinarily I don't care for spinach, but this was a deep green color as if it had been just blanched. He put it carefully to my mouth and I pulled it off the fork with my lips. It tasted wonderful and I savored it. I think I moaned as I chewed. Tim's mouth fell open again. He started to sweat, but it wasn't hot in the room. If anything it was cold. We were silent for the entire meal. The only sounds were his clinking of the fork on the plate and my mastication and occasional moaning. The food was actually quite good; it didn't matter that it wasn't warm. Tim was deliberate and attentive to every morsel. We carefully watched each other's reaction to each nibble. By the time he fed me the last of it, Tim was wiping his forehead with his arm. For my part I had slimed my belly with my horny ooze and was on the verge of a spontaneous eruption. I felt like I had run a marathon and was panting to prove it. Tim finally cleared his throat and moved the tray away. "Excuse me a minute, I need to pee," he mumbled. He said that with his back to me. He stepped into my bathroom and closed the door. He was in there for what seemed a very long time before he came out. When he did, I turned my head toward him and I swear I could see a wet spot on the front of his baggy khaki shorts. Likewise, I could see the outline of his healthy tube steak. It looked even bigger covered by his clothing . . . or was it. . . . Never mind. He seemed to wear his clothes as if they weren't there. If he was a turn-on naked, he's a seducer in clothing. He seems to exude a quality that makes you want him. Any more of this erotic indulgence and I'll be attacking him, if that were possible in my condition. At that moment, I felt like I needed a chaperone. "I need to pee, too." He looked at me lying on the bed without moving. He cleared his throat, nervously. "How do we do this?" Did he say, "We"? I glanced around, swiveling my head on the pillow, doing my best to concentrate on keeping from lifting it. "Is there a urinal somewhere?" "A urinal?" He looked around. "What's a urinal look like?" I spied it sitting on the counter. "There." I pointed at it. He grabbed it by the handle saying, "This thing?" "Yes, that's it." He brought it to the bed and tore the covers off me. My gown had lifted up and his eyes popped as he saw the thick packing taped to the top of my inner thigh. My erect cock and hanging balls were also prominently on display. I'm not sure what he focused on, but he was quite interested. "Uh, thanks," was all I could say. I reached over and took the urinal from his hand and stuck it down between my legs. I pulled the covers back over myself. Since my stiffy was still pointing in the wrong direction, and quite unable to do different, I determined to wait for the swelling to go down. Tim was breathing hard and still looking at my crotch under the covers. I think he actually started to drool. He blinked as if waking from a dream. He cleared his throat. "What'd they do to you?" "Well, they stuck a big hole in my femoral artery and put a catheter through it all the way to my heart. You know what a femoral artery is?" He shook his head. "A femoral artery is the blood vessel that carries blood to your leg. It's a little bigger than a pencil. It goes through your groin real close to the surface. It leads straight from your heart, so it's literally a direct pipeline. Anyway, they found some blockage and put in a couple of stents. The hole in the artery was so big that they have to take some special precautions or the hole could pop open and I could bleed to death. That's why all the packing and tape." "Oh." He seemed stunned. "What's a stint?" "A stent is something like a tiny stainless steel version of a Chinese finger puzzle. You know what that is?" "Yeah! I got one once when I was a kid trick-or-treating on Halloween. You put your fingers in the ends and can't pull them out, `cause it gets tighter the harder you pull." "That's it! Well, a stent is a very small metal version that they put in your blocked artery and expand it with a tiny balloon. That opens up the blockage. The stent stays open and they release the pressure and pull out the balloon." "Oh! That's really cool! Do they take it out, later?" I chuckled. "No, they leave it in. It's permanent." "Oh. So now you're okay?" "Well, not completely. The doc says I had some heart muscle damage and they want to keep me here and watch me for a couple of days." "When you leave here, are you coming back to the camp?" "Yeah, I'll have to come get my bus." "Oh, yeah. Are you gonna finish your vacation?" "I'll have to see. I don't know what my restrictions will be, yet." "Oh. I'll help you if you want." I smiled. As much as I hated to admit it, I knew I would need his help. It was for him that I knew I had to keep my distance. I suppose I could delay that, though. Just a little longer. "Thanks. I may need your help." He smiled his wide smile again. His dimples are so deep and his skin is so smooth. I quickly looked out the window to avoid becoming aroused again. I realized my hose had finally deflated, so I moved it into the urinal and peed. He heard my stream draining into the urinal and wrinkled his nose a bit. When I was done, I decided he needed to know what he'd have to deal with if he wanted to be with an older man. He might even have to wipe my ass, someday. I carefully pulled the urinal out from under the covers and indelicately handed it to him. He just looked at it. "Here. Would you put this on the table?" "Uh, okay." He reluctantly reached for the handle and warily grasped it with both hands. He carried it as if it were radioactive. Inside I chuckled. That'll get him thinking! I cleared my throat. "So, I guess you locked my bus for me?" "Hmm? Oh, yeah. Stevey helped me close it up. We made sure nothing was left out to spoil while you're gone and we cleaned up a little bit. That's when I got the idea to bring you your phone and stuff. I put your key in the bag. So, are you gonna be okay?" He had a look of genuine concern. "Yeah, I'll be fine in a few days. Sorry if I scared you guys. Speaking of Stevey, where is he? I thought he'd come with you." His face was full of guilt. "He wanted to come see you, but I wanted to come by myself. I guess I was a little selfish. I'll bring him to see you tomorrow, if that's okay." "Of course it's okay! I want to thank you. You've taken a load off my mind by taking care of the bus and bringing me these things. Tell your folks I'll settle up with them when I get out of here." "Oh, don't worry about that! They're not gonna charge you for the time you're not there! I told them you'd been really nice to me and Stevey. They feel really bad that you had a heart attack while you were at the camp. They want to meet you when you get out. Dad saw you when you came in, but Mom wants to meet you, too. They want you to come to dinner, if you can." Then he looked very serious. He spoke very softly. "Maybe that's when we can talk to them about Stevey." We were silent for a long moment. The gravity of the thought hung in the air. I finally broke the silence. "Maybe we don't have to tell them. If I can get Frank to agree, maybe he can just give the cops the assurance that Stevey's fine and there's nothing to worry about as far as he's concerned. They might want someone to testify against that guy, but there might be others more willing to do that. We can just wait and see what happens." Tim thought a moment. "Yeah, maybe you're right. It'd be a lot better if we don't have to get Stevey all worked up and tell Mom and Dad." Just then, I had a sudden uncontrollable urge to yawn. "Sorry! It's been a long day." Tim smiled and said, "I better go and let you rest. I'll be back tomorrow with Stevey." He took my hand in his. I smiled up at him and he smiled back. It was only then that I saw a large tear streak down his cheek. In a voice barely above a whisper I said, "Tim? Please don't cry for me. I'm all right. Really." He sniffed and wiped his wet cheek. "I know," he blubbered. Then he blurted, "Just when I find someone I really like, I mean really, REALLY like, I almost LOSE him!" If my heart hadn't just been patched up, I know it would have been breaking. I had to respond to his revelation. "Tim, please don't do this. Any kind of relationship between us beyond a friendship is impossible." It tore me up to say that, but I felt I had to nip this in the bud. "There are just too many years between us. People would call me a cradle robber. Or worse, they would assume I was your father . . . or grandfather." "Is that all that's important? What other people think? I love you and I don't care who knows it! You're all I can think about! I dream about you. I can't stand not to be with you. I know I love you, Alan! I fell in love with you the moment I saw you. Now that I know you, I love you even more! Please don't tell me to go away, because I can't do it. I have to be with you!" When he finished he was almost in tears and my mind was clouding. I was having a hard time focusing. It was either the drugs or my inner turmoil. I was definitely attracted to Tim, but I just couldn't get over the age difference. He was still holding my hand. Finally I whispered, "Tim, there's something else for you to consider. I've lived almost thirty years longer than you. In my memory are things you only read about in history books. We'd have an impossible time relating to one another. All my experiences have helped make me who I am and yours will shape you. You're still developing and learning from your own experiences. I'd only hold you back. I'll be in a wheelchair and at death's door when you'll have a good many years still ahead of you! I don't want you to regret missing the experiences of youth, like driving too fast, going on campouts, getting drunk, experimenting with your friends . . . do you want me to go on?" "No, I don't want you to go on, because it's all bullshit! I'm not interested in any of those things! All I want is to experience life with the one I love. Is that so bad?" I was dumbfounded. I had no more ammunition. I was shooting blanks. I was tired and I needed to think. "Tim, you're a great person. The partner you choose someday will be the luckiest person in the world, but you don't even know if you're gay, do you?" Okay, so I'm grasping at straws. "What do you mean? Of course I'm gay! I've known since I was like, three!" I smiled at him and sighed. "Three year olds haven't developed sexuality, yet. I don't think there's any way you could know at three, but my point is you haven't had a girlfriend or a boyfriend yet, have you?" He scowled at me. "Alright, no, I haven't. But what's that got to do with anything?" "Everything. In order to develop and understand your own feelings, you need to experience relationships: good and bad. That's the only way you can know for sure if someone you meet is `The Someone' you can stand to spend the rest of your life with. You can't count on looks, alone. Tim, you might be mistaking lust for love." "No, I'm not! This is the real thing! I know it!" I could sense that he was about to burst into tears and this discussion is tearing my guts apart. It's time for a compromise. "Tim, I want you to promise me something." "What?" "Promise me you'll think about this. Just think about it. If you're still serious, then we'll discuss it again. Deal?" He thought hard, his lip quivering. I was surprised that my chest didn't hurt. The pain was conspicuous by its absence. "Alright, deal. But you have to promise me something, too." "Fair enough. What is it?" "You have to promise not to date anyone else, not to see anyone else and not to think about anyone else until I say. Deal?" I think I agreed too soon. He wanted to hold me hostage. "Tim, I can't promise that." "Yes, you can. Otherwise, I won't promise either." "Alright I'll promise, but only if you're reasonable. Let's set a time limit on this." "One month." "Alright, one month. We'll discuss this again by the end of July." He smiled and squeezed my hand. I could tell he felt he had some small measure of victory. At least I knew I'd have time to talk him out of this insanity and maybe get him interested in someone else. Someone closer to his own age. Then he did something unexpected. He leaned down and kissed me. On the lips. It was a long kiss. Ever so lightly at first, he brushed my lips with his tongue and parted them. An electric shock went straight to my groin. I was captive to his soft, moist lips and his searching tongue. I couldn't move away if I'd wanted to. My lips and tongue moved automatically to his.To be continued . . . .