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Chapter 9
I awoke in the morning to the smell of sausage and Carlos singing a song in Spanish about confused love, if my high school Spanish is any good. As he sang, he danced, butt assed totally naked, with hip movements that gyred liquid sex. His ball sack swaying like a hula skirt in time to his song. Carlos grinned "Good morning, Timmy." I sat up wiping sleep from my eyes and smoothing down my morning hair. Stud rolled a little and snored a little louder. "Come dance with me," asked Carlos with a tilt of his head and a flick of his hips. Jack, awake, shoved me on the back.
So out of bed I got, naked. Carlos gently took my hand and bowed. "Senor, may I have this dance." Carlos pulled my hand, and I was in his arms--chest to chest. Carlos was a good four inches shorter than me, but he knew how to lead. Soon I was twirling, dipping and grinding to a new song sung from Carlos's mental playlist. All the while, he had me gyrating, he never lost beat nor lost hand contact with the bacon on the stove. He gave me one last twirl, pulled me in and kissed me a deep, deep kiss--one hand still on the bacon. I was winded, sweaty, and turned on. Carlos gave my hard on one quick look, slapped my dick with his hand and said, "Later gûey." With a quick pinch of my nipple. "Breakfast is almost ready." Carlos handed me a potholder, "Can you put the coffee on." He lightly touched his upper lip with his tongue. "It is hot--like me." He turned to put the bacon on a plate.
"We will see how hot," I added. As I turned, I goosed him. Carlos let out a falsetto "Wooo."
Everyone gathered around the table, which had been brought inside since the mornings were a hazard to manly parts. I keep having the mental image of the black velvet painting in day glow colors of six naked men around a table. I know, it does not make sense, but very little of that weekend made sense. I even thought of a title for the painting--"Whorshipers at the Table of Lord Sausage."
After breakfast, Jack pulled out the paper bag with just a few bars left inside. He dumped the contents on the table and said, "Timmy, you can go first." I looked and took a KitKat. Carlos immediately grab the other KitKat. Jack and Stud looked at each other and grab matching Snickers. That left Leo and Demetrius; I felt sorry for Leo. Jack said, "Stud and I are going into town to get something special for supper tonight. It is our last night." Jack looked at Stud who nodded agreement. "Anyone else like to go?" Demetrius glanced at Leo and raised his hand with Leo quickly following. "OK, Timmy and Carlos can keep the home fires burning. I don't create too much heat and burn the sausage"
"Yes sir," Carlos said with a salute. "Timmy will be safe from fires; I'll have a hose handy to prevent Timmy from burning his sausage."
I added, "There is plenty for food besides sausage; I saw some lettuce for a salad and some bread. We will be fine for lunch."
Carlos looked at me, patted my hand sympathetically and said, "Te quiero chinchar por el culo." I looked at Carlos confused. "My sausage is going to be in your bun." So now I knew what the afternoon would be like.
Leo, Demetrius, Stud and Jack drove off down the dirt road with Carlos and I waving them off like grandparents waving the grandchildren off, and glad to finally have the house to themselves. Carlos patted me on the butt, and we walked back into the cottage. I helped Carlos clean up from breakfast. Carlos hummed and sang portions of a Diana Reyes song. As we cleaned in silence, I wondered what Carlos might want. Would he be a Hispanic version of Demetrius? I started to speak but Carlos put a finger over my lips, took me to the patio, and told me to sit and wait until he was ready. Master slave scenarios ran through my head.
Eventually Carlos came out with a backpack. "No talking," he said, just follow me." I got up and followed. We went to the right into the woods, an area I had not yet explored. "Take in and enjoy the joy of spring," he eventually said as he pointed out small blue flowers by the side of his chosen path. "Smell the air, it is ripe with greening." I did; it smelled...new. I had never smelt the world this way. My smell life revolved around food and the bathroom after a particularly noxious dump. Mostly, I usually just breathed and if smell happened, it was by accident. To smell just to enjoy the world around aroused new possibilities for me. In the urban life I led, my environment was either utilitarian or dangerous. I used it or ran from it. Here, under the trees, breathing, really for the first time. I picked some of the blue flowers and made a nosegay. As I bent and picked, I saw birds. Small birds, some with red on the wings, and yellow birds, and orange breasted ones. The more I looked the more varieties of birds I saw on limbs, branches, briars, and in leaf litter. What I thought was a quiet forest was as busy as my city.
Carlos stopped and stooped. "We need to stop on the way back and harvest these mushrooms." He looked up at me and saw a look of horror as the thought of being poisoned ran through may face. "Don't worry, these are perfectly safe and a delicacy." I was not assured. "My grandmother would take my father and me out mushrooming. This was one of her favorites, morels." I just nodded, still not convinced. Carlos added, "These would sell for $75.00 a pound in Chicago." Carlos found a stick, stuck it upright in the dirt by the mushrooms, and tied his handkerchief to it.
We continued our walk. After what I thought too far, we entered a glade with large trees of oaks and birch trees. The ground was awash with white flowers light by sunlight sliding thought new green leaves. It was like a movie fairyland--a home for Tolkien elves. Carlos stopped and dropped his backpack. "We are here," he said, "Do you like it?"
I stood there just looking around and mumbled, "It is beautiful,"
Carlos pulled a blanket out and spread it on the ground. "Have a sit, mamey," he said with a sweeping gesture toward the blanket. "It will be my pleasure to serve you this today." I sat. Carlos then took a bottle of wine, glasses, a couple of covers Tupperware contains, utensils, cutting board, and napkins out of the backpack. The backpack was like a cornucopia-spewing largess He placed everything in practiced efficiency in the middle of the blanket. "Shall we picnic?" he asked.
"This is the first romantic picnic I have ever had," I replied.
"I am so sorry," he said. "You deserve to be wooed." He opened the bottle of sauvignon blanc and poured a glass. As I took the glass from him, he softly brushed the back of my hand. "I did not bring you here for una cogida, fucking," he said looking me in the eyes. "We are here to make love." I coughed a little as I swallowed the wine. "The others have sex, which is OK," he added. "But making love is an extension and culmination of pleasing your partner." He cut a pear into slices and teased my lips before slipping it into my mouth.
"Danny and I made love a few times, but mostly it was just sex--very good sex," I said.
"That is too bad," Carlos said shaking his head. "Perhaps no one has ever taught you how to make love." He took a bit of sliced apple with cheese; then offered me the rest.
"That was not in my college curriculum," I laughed.
"Nor mine," laughed Carlos. "But today I will teach you how to make love, si." Carlos opened the containers and took out brie, crackers, apples, pears, and strawberries. "The first step in love making is to appreciate the person you are with." He dropped a strawberry in each wine glass. "So tell me about yourself?"
"Not much to say," I started. "I grew up in Edison Park, a quiet town. My dad owned several garages, which he sold, and my mother is a receptionist at a doctor's office. She has been there my whole life."
"That is nice," said Carlos, "but this does not tell me about you." Carlos paused and said, "What do you like, what makes you happy or sad, what are your dreams? This is what is important." He took my wine glass and strawberry, which I had nibbled on and slowly painted his lips with it, returning the strawberry and wine to me.
"You sound like my therapist."
"You went or are going for therapy?" Carlos asked.
"Went," I said. "When my mother caught me jacking off to a picture of Chris Hemsworth, they thought therapy would help."
"Did it?"
"Yes, but not the way my parents thought."
"Well what went right?" Carlos delicately licked brie off his fingers.
"The therapist understood that I was gay and basically told me that that was OK and to be myself regardless of what my parents thought." Carlos laughed. "It was the best advice I have ever received."
"So what happened with your parents?"
"The squandered 600 dollars for my three sessions with Dr. Libbowski."
"They may have thought the money wasted, but if you came away with more confidence, it was worth it."
"I never thought of it that way."
"There is always a positive to most situations if you look close enough." Carlos paused and thought. "What finally happened over the gay issue?"
"Dr Libbowski called my parents into the last session. He sat my parents down on the sofa and me in a chair. Dr. Lib, as he liked to be called, looked at my parents and said, `I know what the problem is and I have a cure.'"
"My parents bent forward in anticipation, I remember this event very clearly, Your son is gay," he stated. Both my parents were in shock, not so much by the pronouncement but by the bluntness of it. Then my mother asked if there is a cure. Dr. Lib shook his head affirmative, Yes, yes of course there is a cure.' He paused and looked at both of them, `but the cure is not for him but for you.' My parents were thoroughly baffled."
"'Your cure can be difficult'" he warned them, It can have profound consequences.' He paused again, looking at both my parents in turn, Dr. Lib always had a flair for the dramatic, You can accept your son for who he is or you can reject him.' My parents were flabbergasted and stammering to reply, but Dr. Lib raise a hand. `These are your choices; Timothy would prefer the first but will survive the second. He is a remarkable boy with a good head on his shoulders.'"
"My parents sat very still. I was very concerned how they would react. Dr. Lib and I explored many reactions and my responses. I was prepared for anything. My dad stood up, walked over to me and motioned for me to stand. I prepared myself to be slugged and sent halfway across the room, my dad was well muscled, but he just hugged me and said, Regardless of this,' he paused, thing, you are my son and I will always love you. And no boys sleeping over, girls yes.' He had a sly grin on his face."
My mother broke into tears, `But I want grandchildren and a big wedding and a daughter-in-law to nag about.' Then she pulled a Kleenex from her bra and started crying harder. I did not know what to say. I felt horrible, the worst son.
"Mrs. Stutgart," consoled Dr. Libb, "is this more about your son's happiness or yours?"
"My mother stopped sniffling and said, `I know, I am being selfish. But being a homosexual is not easy with the diseases, discrimination, and hatred. He could always marry a lesbian."
"No, Mom," I broke in, "that would be a lie and do you want me to live a lie? Besides what self-respecting lesbian would want this faggot."
"Don't you ever call yourself a faggot? You are my son and I love you no matter how you are and what you do." Then my mother pulled me over, kissed my cheek, and whispered in my ear, "You can have boyfriends over for the night."
After a long silence Carlos said, "You have amazing parents." He bent over and brushed cracker crumbs off my shirt, careful to include grazing a nipple.
"Yes, they are," I replied feeling a bit teary. "My father died last year from a heart attack. Danny and I spent weekends with them. They allowed us to share the same bed. My dad like Danny because he was not easily intimidated and stood his ground with and for me."
"Family is important, and their support is important. I think my youngest son might be un puñal, gay, but I push neither one way nor another. If he grows up as level headed as you, I would be happy." He dipped a slice of pear in his wine rubbed it on my lips before it disappeared into his mouth.
"I'm an accountant so I am supposed to be level headed." I replied. "So now it is your turn. "Why do you have sex with men?"
"I do not have sex with men, I make love to men. But then it is only with men that deserve my love making."
"That is sweet, but that doesn't answer why."
Carlos looked thoughtfully up. "That is a good question. Why are you gay?"
"I just am. It is who I am."
"The same is for me. I am attracted to both women and men. More to women. But I find the right man makes me very horny."
"You are bisexual then?" I asked.
"I guess, but I dislike the term. There are some men I am attracted to, just as there are some women, with whom I am never intimate." He paused again. "The attraction must be mutual and free of emotional baggage."
I took a sip of wine and offered Carlos a cracker spread with brie. "Does you wife know? If you don't mind me asking?"
Carlos laughed, "You asked before I could say whether or not I minded. English is so strange sometimes. No, she would not understand. She is a good Catholic, church every Sunday and holydays. A small shrine to our Lady of Guadalupe--candles and the whole bit."
"I take it that you are less devote."
"No, I am just as devout, but I express it differently. Like when I fuck you...maybe?"
"We are here just for a picnic?" I asked a little miffed because I suddenly wanted Carlos to want me.
"What is wrong with a picnic in this beautiful, serene, forest?" Carlos glide his tongue around the rim of his glass.
"Nothing, I guess. But you are making me very horny." I looked at the detritus on the cutting board of our small repast. Every bite of pear, sip of wine, slice of apple was foreplay. "You make a simple picnic a seduction worthy of Versailles."
"Do you object?"
"Not in the least. I said you made me horny, so it worked." I bit forcefully in the last apple wedge.
"You know, I have been on several of these excursions with Jack over the past couple of years. And I have made love just twice."
"Jack does not object?"
"Jack is a true kind soul and never pressures anyone into anything."
"You didn't do Demetrius did you?" I asked with horror in my voice.
"Blessed saints, no. He is too selfish." I relax with greater appreciations. "Making love is not selfish."
"Was it with anyone here?" I prodded.
"Leo, he is such a soft soul, a confused soul." Carlos paused and looked at me. "I think you helped him."
"And" I said wanting more details. I was starting to get more aroused.
"The second person is you." Carlos stated.
"Wh.." I started to ask and then thought better. "I am honored and am not sure that I deserve the honor." I paused and smiled a little. "I am a bit of a sex hound."
Carlos laughed, "A bit? I am the only one here that you have not had either your dick in his ass or his dick in your ass." I squirmed uncomfortable with his bluntness. Carlos continued, "You are very young and you should fuck and be fucked by anyone you want." Carlos leaned over and unbuttoned the first button of my shirt. Then he took my hands and had me undo just one button of his shirt. He looked at me. It was with a hunger that was lustful of not only my body but me. I took a gulp of wine. Carlos poured more.
He unbuttoned his shirt letting it slide open. He stared at me with soft brown eyes in a light tan face. I undid my shirt and threw it aside. I took a sip of wine and licked the excess from my lips. Carlos leaned over until he was almost on top of me, took his finger and caressed my lips, picking up a few droplets of wine. He licked the wine from his wet finger with the curled tip of his tongue. He slowly sucked in the finger between pursed lips. The meaning of the gesture was not lost on me. It was damn hot to watch.
I was being seduced by a master, and I was going to savor every step. Carlos lean into me and kissed me. Lightly at first and then with an intensity that sent shivers of electricity from head to groin. Then he pulled back, sat, and sipped his wine. I realized it was my turn. The tango had begun. I kissed him shyly back.
Carlos started by slowly exploring my body, lingering over areas that gave pleasure. I mimicked Carlos. I felt his response as I followed his lead. Soon I was searching for his pleasure spots: fingernails down the back, his ball sack pulled. He found mine: nibbled ear lobs, my nuts one at a time sucked into his mouth.
It became a game for me to find each of Carlos's erogenous areas. To hear him say "si" each time, like hitting the bumpers in pinball. Carlos was equally intent find all my "yes".
We kissed, sucked, nibbled, twisted and pulled to elicit groans from the other. Words were uttered, endearments voiced, but they were sounds not words. They were emotions and pleasure; not instructions.
We were each a musical instruments played by the other: solo, duet, solo, duet. It is a rhythm of counterpoint and jazz. It was a music that the mind plays when it is not calculating. With each gesture, we became more expert, and the music grew in intensity.
When Carlos entered me, I responded to his pleasure; he responded to mine. His sweat dripped across my body from a rain god. It rolled down my nipples, warm. It trickled into my mouth, salty and sweet. His eyes were open, following mine, and mine moved to his. We were one, joined body and mind. I had never felt this intimacy before; it was sex but was more.
As I increased his pleasure, he increased mine until I erupted. My white fluid flew across my chest, across my face, into my hair, into Carlos's beard. Some landed white against the white flowers.
I played him in anticipation. Carlos whispered, "Ya vengo." He arched back and thrust. "Madre de Dios," reached from him to the leaves and above into the heavens. A small smattering leaked from my penis. He fell on me, both of us sated.
We lay like that, melded chest-to-chest, heart-to-heart, too weak to move. I was drained of all energy, but never felt so alive to Carlos's heavy breathing, the wind soft in the trees, the damp ground warmed by my body, my heart slowing to normal.
Carlos rolled off me onto the blanket, my cum stretching between us, not wanting release. Carlos poured me a glass of wine. "How does it feel to be made love to?"
My mind still had not settled. I looked down, and cum was still leaking from my cock, and my chest was covered in my jizzum. I took two fingers, gathered up a line of cum, and put it in my mouth. "Desert." I found my jeans, pulled a handkerchief out, and wiped up the rest from my chest. "Some places people wipe up the blood of martyrs as a remembrance. This is my relic of today."
Carlos smiled and removed his condom. He squeezed out the contents into his wine glass added more wine and swallowed. "I return to me what you have taken from me. It will always be part of me."
I took his wine glass, which had just a little wine left in the bottom, and drank it. "Now you are always part of me." I looked around and noticed that the shadows were lengthening. I had no idea what time it was or if time existed. "I think it is getting late."
Carlos looked at his watch, "We don't want the fellows to be envious." He poured the last of the wine into our two glasses and smiled. My romps with Jack and Stud were physical pleasures. I thought of a comparative religion class I took in college. In India, there is a temple devoted to sex, sculptures display thousands of sex act. For Hindus sex is a gift from the gods for the pleasure of man. I agreed.
I knew that Carlos has a good body, but in the dusking light, it was magnificent. "They should be jealous." I suddenly realized that Carlos had said something as I lost in appreciation. I stood, found my clothes and dressed. Carlos did the same.
We gathered the remnant of our picnic and headed back to the cabin. Not forgetting the mushrooms, we stopped and gathered. I had never foraged before, and it felt primal like everything else that just happened in that forest.
At the edge of the forest, just before the clearing, I stopped. Carlos stopped too and looked at me. I bent into him and kissed him respectfully. "Thanks," I said and walked toward the cabin.
All the guys were sitting on the patio when we came up. Carlos and I received a knowing look and nod from each of them. "So did you boys have fun? We've been back over three hours." coomented Jack with a shit-eating grin. Stud swiped at Carlos's hair. Carlos reached up and pulled some weeds from it.
"We had a nice picnic in a clearing full of white wildflowers," I said, wondering why they were looking at us. I mean I had fucked all of them without this reaction. "I picked one, but it oozed reddish orange sap," I added.
Jack looked at Carlos, "I see you remember the place from last year."
"There were so many," I burbled. "I've never seen anything like it in Chicago. I mean I've seen the tulips, but this was in the wild. No one planted them."
"Bloodroot," Jack commented. "You had a romantic spot for a picnic. Poisonous if you eat it." He enjoyed yanking me. "It blossoms only in that spot this time of year. It can be impressive. For some Native American tribes it is associated with love and courting."
I looked at Carlos, "Does this mean we are engaged?"
"No Timothy, we are something better." Carlos gently took my hand, turned it palm up and kissed my wrist. I blushed.
Carlos looked Jack right in the eye and stated, "Even more impressive," letting go of my wrist. Abruptly he went inside to empty the backpack.
Jack and Stud bookended me, grabbed my elbows, and forced me toward the fire pit. I knew that they wanted details. I was unsure why, and I was unsure that I wanted to tell them.
Once we were out of earshot. "Details," Jack said in my ear. Stud said in the other, "Lots of details."
"Why," I asked, "you all have fucked Carlos before."
"Nope," said Jack.
"Never," added Stud.
Jack continued, "We've jacked off together but he has never gone further than that with any of us, Right Stud?"
"I have drawn his Snickers several times," Stud said, shaking his head, "I started a blowjob, he was definitely enjoying it, but he stopped me." Stud lifted his arms in bewilderment. "He started on me. He definitely knows how to blow a guy." Stud looked at me, "But you probably know that." I smiled demurely. "However, he did not finish me off. He let me jack myself off and he jacked along. I think he has a cum aversion." I snickered quietly at this comment.
"We never force anyone to do anything that the do not want." Jack broke in, "And he does not want, a lot."
"He does not mind flaunting his hot little body." Stud added. "You saw him this morning."
Jack added in a conspiratorial tone, "I asked him once." Stud and I stepped closed as if we were priests at a confessional. "He told me that he is 70% straight and 30% gay. He likes making love to men but not sex with men."
"What the hell does that mean." interjected Stud. Stud looked at me; I just smiled.
"If I understand him correctly," continued Jack, "We are only interested in sex--getting our rocks off."
"That's the fucking purpose of these trips."
"True for all of us...except Carlos."
"Then why does he come?" asked Stud with irritation in his voice. He was beginning to feel that Carlos was just a cock tease.
"No," Jack quickly said, "He really enjoys coming. He likes everyone's company. Some more than others."
"Whose?" growled Stud.
"He could do without Demetrius and..."
"I agree with him on Demetrius," I broke in.
"And Leo he likes, but he thinks he lies to himself."
"Did he say anything about me?' asked Stud looking like a defiant little boy.
"He thinks you are very hot, and he would like to make love to you, but you are not interested."
"I'd fuck him or let him fuck me at the rip of the condom package. But he has always stopped the action." Stud was bewildered.
"You want to just have sex. Carlos is a romantic and wants to make love," I said.
"There is a difference?" asked Stud.
"After this afternoon," I paused still trying to get a grasp on what had happened with Carlos. "We made love, sex included," I added. "But it was more than ejaculation."
"Now, tell us the details," urged Stud.
"I am sorry but I can't." I replied.
"Can't or won't," asked Jack.
"Both," I answered, "because it was so intense that I don't remember the details. And because it was too intimate to share without making the experience sordid."
"That good!" responded Stud.
"That good." I shivered with remembrance. "It was the first time that sex was more than just sex. It was a merging."
"Could you show us?" asked Jack, who was not intrigued by this unseen side of sex.
"I am not sure because it requires giving up control."
"Like we did on the island?" asked Stud.
"No, with the bondage I took control and you gave it to me." I explained. The whole afternoon with Carlos was still unprocessed by me. "No, with making love, you give control because you are so intent on your partner that what is done to you is not important. If both partners are in the same frame of mind, the intimacy and intensity is ... beyond words." Both Stud and Jack stood there looking at me with an envy.
"Time to get back," broke in Jack. "We have a special meal planned since this is our last night."
"Let's not tell anyone about our conversation," said Stud. "Let's let them think that you gave use juice blow-by-blow details."
We walked back to the patio. The three men sat on the patio staring, trying to catch our phrases on the breeze.
I looked at Leo, Demetrius, and Carlos, but said nothing and kept my face bland. Jack and Stud, however, looked like two boys hiding cigarettes from their parents. "What was that all about?" asked Leo.
"These two gossips," I pointed at Jack and Stud, "wanted to know what Carlos and I did this afternoon."
"And," asked Carlos with a small tilt to his head.
"I said we had a very casual picnic with wine, crackers, fruit and brie," I replied.
"And?" Carlos again.
"And anything else was not their business." I paused. "But for the record and to satisfy your prurient interests, we had a deep philosophical discussion about life, sex and love."
Demetrius snorted, "Yeah, you fucked," and sat in the most comfortable chair outside.
"You may not believe me, but we did not fuck," I replied with a spot of anger. "How many of you," I added, "have fucked with Carlos?" Everyone was quiet. "So why do you think that I have?"
Jack put a hand on my shoulder. "Carlos, what is your side of the afternoon?" Jack looked at Carlos.
"No, Timothy is right we did not fuck." Carlos looked at each of the men. Then came a smattering of OKs, if you say so, who cares. Carlos looked at me and winked, "There are better things than just fucking."
Stud, a diplomate, said, "It is getting late and we need to fix supper." He looked at me. "Since this is our last night and Timothy is our guest, this meal is in his honor. He motioned for Demetrius to get out of his chair and escorted me to it. "This is your seat for tonight." He bowed as Demetrius slid out, and I slid into the chair. Jack came over and handed me a tall drink. "This is a `son'o a bitch', one of these will knock you on your ass," he said, "Two will have you looking for it."
I took a sip and almost chocked on the amount of alcohol in the drink. I looked around at the five guys, naked and bouncing, suddenly realizing the weekend was ending. I stared into my drink, sucking oblivion from a straw.