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THE CABIN IN THE WOODS By Dr. Ben Ezra Jacobson. PHD-Literature Ben_ezra_jacobson@yahoo.com
Every year when I was a boy, my parents would take the family for a month long trip to northern Wisconsin near Rhinelander. One year when I was fifteen, my dad rented a summer house near White Sands lake in the Boulder Junction, Wisconsin area...and we spent the month in a beautiful cottage within a stones through of White Sands lake. He and mom let us each bring a friend. My sister Barb brought a girl friend from our neighborhood back home...and I invited a neighbor boy with whom I had played ball, rode bikes and gone swimming every summer for as long as I could remember. His name was Greg Whitacre...a really solid and descent kid.
Greg and I had been on the same ball team from school for as long as I could remember. We rode our bicycles all over town together. We fished at our community's lake together through out the summer...it was like having a brother of my very own. It wasn't any surprise when my mom spoke to his parents about him accompanying us to northern Wisconsin...and that they replied in the affirmative. We planned for weeks about everything we would need...fishing gear, camping gear, an old tent that leaked in the rain, sleeping bags, flash lights, boots for stomping around the woods and swimming trunks for when the family would go to the white sand beaches around the lake. Dad would pull a cargo trailer behind the family station wagon with all the gear and supplies that we would need for a month. He would be on summer vacation too from the school where he taught...and it gave us all an excitement of being together with our best friends for
four weeks at White Sands Lake.
The trip from home to Boulder Junction was about 600 miles...and we made it in one day. Dad was quite the road warrior back then...and although we were all a little weary...it was so very exciting to stand on the lawn facing the water...and to sigh a relief that all our plans for months...had finally come to fruition. We went past the local burger joint on the way in and picked up burgers and fries and a drink for everyone and then headed down the dusty gravel road to White Sands Cottage...that was waiting for us. The owner and his wife were there to great us...to pick up the balance of the rent for the month, to orient us on the cottage and to give us some general advice about the lay of the land and the best fishing holes on our side. We were free to use the cottage canoe or rowboat...and for a little extra, we could rent a power boat for water skiing. Mom and Dad did not ski...so there was not a great deal of temptation on that one.
On the deck, we sat on webbed, aluminum lawn chairs and took some photographs of our selves watching the sunset. We also shot 50 feet of super eight kodachrome movie film of our first evening at the cabin. Years later...the movie film would keep a bright recollection of the event in my memory.
With the setting of the sun came a wave of mosquitoes and gnats. We moved in doors and I tried to persuade my parents to let me light the fireplace...but they were insistent that it was too late for a fire after we had been on the road for nearly twelve hours.
"Ben...You and Greg...and Barb and Bettyjean need to get your rooms set up and think about turning in...there will be plenty of time tomorrow to do all the fun camping things," my mom said.
"Dad...I could just build a little fire," I responded...but I could tell by the expression on his face...that he agreed with my mother and that was the end of the discussion.
"Come on, Greg...let's head to the loft for the night," I had relied...half disappointed and half relieved to have a definite end to the long day.
"Cool," Greg had said, "we get the loft?"
"Yeah...mom and dad want to be down stairs so they can be sure that the girls are safely looked after," I had remarked...looking over my shoulder as I headed up the stairs to the upstairs loft.
The girls had a small room with twin beds and my folks had the master down stairs room with a king size bed...but when Greg and I got upstairs...and were standing in the door way...we suddenly realized that we had to share a plain double bed. I had never slept with anyone before.
"Greg, have you ever shared a bed with anyone before," I asked?
"Yeah, my Great Dane, Denver sleeps on my bed every night when I am home," he laughed. "Guess you could say that I have gone to the dogs."
He was all smiles. "I have shared my bed a couple times with my cousin Sam when he and my aunt and uncle have come to visit on holidays."
"I have never shared my bed with anyone...we always had a guest room for company," I answered back...looking sheepish and maybe a bit left out.
"awh...it isn't so bad Ben...as long as the person next to you doesn't snore or fart all over you."
I cracked up...and gave him a shove. "I hope you don't do either one," I jested.
"You are in luck buddy...I only do one," Greg laughed.
"And which one is that," I demanded.
"I don't snore! With that...he picked up a pillow off the bed and threw it at me.
"Get out of here," I threw it back at him. "Well...you are in for a treat as well...because I pee the bed."
" You don't! Come on Ben...level with me...you don't pee the bed?"
"Well...no, but you have to admit that I had you going for a minute," I laughed and picked up the other pillow and chucked it at his face.
He leaped towards me and both of us landed in a heap on the bed.
"Ben Ezra Jacobson...what in the name of thunder is going on up there," my mom had called after us.
"Nothing mom...I was just having some fun with Greg...throwing pillows."
"Well the two of you need to settle down and get some sleep...you can chuck pillows or pine cones at each other tomorrow. Good night dears."
"Good Night mom."
"Good Night Mr. & Mrs. Jacobson."
We closed the loft door and turned out the overhead light. A small table light lit the room and cast shadows over the walls. We opened the windows for night air and turned back the bed...setting the pillows back in place before finally turning out the night light.
I kicked off my blue jeans and sweat shirt...and was standing in a tee shirt and briefs. Greg did the same.
"Ok Greg...I have to ask...pajamas or tee shirts and briefs."
Greg looked at me with a sheepish grin on his face, ..."Neither."
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The sun rose bright and shiny the next morning...not a cloud in the sky. It was around 8:00 AM when mom called us all to breakfast. The great room, dinning room and kitchen was one large room. As I stepped out...onto the stairs...the smell of bacon cooking on the stove permeated the great room. Mom had made some hot chocolate and was using a griddle to cook pan cakes. The smell of the pine trees through the bed room windows had given all of us a voracious appetite.
Greg and I sat next to each other on a bench seat. Barb and Bettyjean sat on the other bench seat across from us with my mom and dad on the ends. After Dad said "grace" we dove into the breakfast food. While we ate the pancakes...more were cooking on the stove. Greg and I had come down stairs with jeans and sweat shirts on. As nice as shorts are...it was too chilly yet up here for them until the middle of the day. Several times, I bumped my knee against Greg's during breakfast...and he always returned the gesture. This was going to be a great day.
"Ben...would you and Greg like to go with me into town to get some groceries and some firewood for tonight," Dad asked.
"Sure Dad...that would be great...what do you think Greg?'
"Sure...maybe we could get some bait for fishing later this morning, too"
"Boys...I could not have said it better," Dad had said. As soon as breakfast was done and a list of supplies made...we drove into town while the girls cleaned up after breakfast. Bumping along on the gravel road in the station wagon...I could not help but think that we had a whole month in the north woods to fish and swim...and explore the area. Perhaps we could even take the canoe for the day and just explore the area around the lake. We noticed a sign that said EXPLORER CANOE BASE...and dad said that the boy scouts came up here every summer for a week or two on the water. Surely it would be safe for us to kind of hang out with them and canoe some of their trails.
In Boulder Junction...we got the food supplies we needed for a few days and bought some bait for fishing...and a gallon of kerosene for the lamps outside. The man who checked us out at the store was telling us of the old Indian trail that led from rock bridge near our cottage down through the woods to a beach where the fishing was suppose to be the best around the lake. It is a tricky hike through the rocks though...and you want to be really careful that you do not end up near the quick sand pits. He winked at dad. He thought that I did not notice...but I elbowed Greg as he was telling the story...and Greg grinned back with an ever so slight nod. It was just like the locals to try to have some fun with the tourists. They must think we are really green.
"Yeah...boys...the story goes that back when the white trappers first came into the area...the native Americans became really annoyed with them catching their beaver and deer...so they altered the trail so they would end up in the quick sand pits. By the time they were found...only their heads were sticking out...and the water creatures had eaten the flesh off their skeletons when they were pulled out."
As we passed through the door of the store...Greg leaned my way and said, "what a bunch of bull shit."
"You say something, Greg," dad asked...with a grin on his face.
"Nothing important, Mr. Jacobson. I just said I wished I had worn a heavier shirt," Greg answered back.
"Right you are boys...it stays cool here until middle of the morning."
Greg and I grinned at each other as if we had pulled off something really clever...never taking into consideration that my dad had heard the whole thing.
On the way back to the cottage...it seemed like dad hit every pot hole on the road...or maybe the springs in the station wagons seats were going bad...because with every bump...I felt a thrust right at the base of my butt. That spring just poked me again and again. Could not figure out why it felt the way that it did...but it was beginning to provoke a peculiarly familiar sensation.
When we returned home...the girls were no where to be seen. Greg and I grabbed our fishing gear and headed for the lake. This early in the morning...we found ourselves quite alone. We baited hooks and cast our lines into the water. Over the next hour...we caught several small fish and released them back into the lake. The lake shimmered as the sunlight reflected on the ripples. All around us the smell of pines brushed us with an aromatic scent that was intoxicating.
"Ben...this is just the coolest place. How did your dad ever find it?"
" He is always browsing through brochures about places to go and things to do. We have come here before...but never for a month at this particular spot. It was not until some of the other teachers started talking about it...that he became persuaded that we should do the same. After a couple years of staying for a week or two...he and mom decided that we would stay the whole month."
" I sure am glad that you invited me to come with you. This is going to be way more cool than spending a week or two at my grandparents place," Greg offered.
"I'm glad your parents were ok with it. It is more fun to have a friend to do all these fun things with than with a sister," I answered back. We both laughed.
"Yeah...there are something's that are just more fun with a buddy."
We both looked at each other and laughed. I reached over an patted his shoulder...and he returned the gesture. We fished until almost what we thought must be about lunch time. The sun appeared to be directly overhead.
"Let's go up to the cottage for lunch...I am getting hungry..." I suggested.
"It's too bad we did not catch something big enough to dress out and cook at home," he said.
"Yeah...that's right...but there will be a lot of days to fish. We don't want to exhaust our adventures the first day." Greg nodded his head in agreement...as we gathered our gear and made for the cottage and for food. Even though we did not catch any "keepers" it was a fast and fun morning. I hoped this was not going to be an indicator that the month here was going to whisk by at a break neck speed.
After a great lunch with the family...Greg and I asked dad if we could take the canoe out for the afternoon. Since we had both earned our swimming merit badge in scouts...permission was given...with the understanding that we would be back before the dinner hour...so we could help set up for our cook out around the fire pit this evening. Mom was making baked beans and potato salad...and we were going to grill brats and ball park franks.
"Nothing better than hot grilled brats with sauerkraut, onions and plenty of mustard," I had remarked as we put the canoe in the water.
"Yeah," Greg had responded, "unless it is more of it." We both laughed. Those were the days when we could eat all we wanted and never be concerned about gaining a few extra pounds.
"Greg...bow or stern," I asked?
"Bow," he had answered...and so it was. We eased the canoe into the water...each of us on a side, hand over hand...putting the stern into the water first and then the bow. I climbed in over the bow and walked down the main seam of the shiny aluminum canoe and sat down on the stern seat. Greg climbed into the bow space...pushing off from the shore with one foot as he balanced himself over his seat...and then eased around on to his seat. With the paddles, we back stroked until we were away from the shore...and then straightened the canoe with the shore line and began paddling along it. The canoe glided as if it was effortless.
"Man...is this the greatest or what," Greg said over his shoulder as he made a "j stroke" to keep the canoe in alignment with the shore line. "It has been over a year since I last paddled a canoe...and it feels great to have the opportunity to do so again."
I hollered a little louder so he could hear me though his back was toward me..."let's paddle over to the cove up ahead and then to the right. The topographical map that the store keeper gave me...said that all the streams branch off to various other little lakes. Maybe we could see some deer."
"Cool...I' m game...let's just be sure that we do not go so far that we miss the cook out and piss off your parents," Greg shouted again over his shoulder.
I watched my wrist watch and the sun, as it progressed across the sky. It was about 2:00 PM. We had not seen any deer. It was probably too late in the day and we were not exactly stealth in our progression along the creek trail...which was getting increasingly narrow. At one point...we did more pushing with the paddles than we did paddling the canoe...and wondered if we would have to get out and pull it through the low creek bed. Suddenly the creek became deeper and wider...and we ended up on some little lake with a tree line right down to the water. Greg took a red bandana handkerchief out of his pocket and tied it to a low hanging branch by the creek edge so we could find our way back...and we paddled a little further along the lake side. It did not appear to have any cabins or cottages or trails along the lake side.
"That's peculiar...this lake doesn't seem to be inhabited. Sure hope we are not going to get lost. Do you think we should turn back," I asked?
"It's kind of spooky...isn't it. Can you still see the red neckerchief?"
"Yeah," I responded...but if we go much further...it is going to be out of view," I answered back.
"Look Ben...a beach...let's paddle over to it."
A sandy beach was at a right angle to where we had been paddling...and we thrusted the canoe upon the sand. As we climbed out...there did not appear to be any animal tracks nor human foot prints...and there was no sign of a foot path. The sand seemed unmolested except where we had foot prints from our tennis shoes. The sun made the white sand glisten in the light and as we stretched out to enjoy the warmth...we felt like we were the first people ever to set foot on this stretch of land...all the while knowing that people had likely traversed this part of the woods for many centuries. The only sounds were the birds and the sound of water lapping at the shore.
"Is the water too cold for a quick swim," I asked.
"Don't know...let's check it out," Greg responded.
We climbed to our feet from having laid in the sand and felt the water. It was cold...too cold for a swimming. We went back to the sand and once again lay down on the warm surface.
"Well," I said, "if it is too cold to take a swim...at least we can get a sun tan on the beach." I peeled off my white tee shirt and lay back down against the warm sand and felt the comfort of the sun basking down on my chest. Greg did the same. As we lay there...Greg removed his shoes and socks.
"The sand even feels warm between my toes...this is so cool. Ben...take your shoes and socks off man...feel the sand...it is great."
I removed my shoes and socks and laid them beside my tee shirt. The sand indeed did feel great on the bottoms of my bare feet. I wiggled my toes and felt it move between the dogs and over the top of my foot. Must not let this go too long and get the tops of my feet sunburned or putting the socks and shoes back on would be a bugger. I heard a "clink" and turned to see Greg unbuckling his jeans and step out of them. I laughed...and then he dropped his briefs and stepped out.
"What do you think you are doing," I laughed. "Do you want to get arrested for being nude on a Wisconsin beach?"
"Ben," he retorted, "we are alone...there's nobody here but us...who is going to arrest me for being naked on a deserted beach?"
"Guess you are right."
"It feels great. Come on macho man...get naked and feel the freedom of having air all over your skin."
"I don't know Greg...what if Dad would catch us?"
"Where is he going to come from...a helicopter overhead?"
"You are right...why not enjoy the privacy of our own secluded beach," I replied...and stepped out of my jeans and white briefs.
We laid back upon the sand and just let the sun warm our naked bodies.
We laid there for about half an hour...each wondering if the other one was thinking about our first night in the loft. We had never experimented sexually with each other before...and wondered what our friends would think if it ever got out. As long as neither of us said anything...who would ever be the wiser. I rolled over on my side facing Greg. He already was in a state of heightened excitement and his member was saluting us both. I reached over and touched it...and it throbbed. Greg gave a sigh and said, "oh shit...that feels so good." He then reached over and took a hold of mine and it instantly grew hard in his hand.
"Careful there buddy...it would not take too much action to get it to fire right now."
Greg smiled, "I know something that would make it feel awfully good."
"What is that," I said...playing dumb. I had heard about such things but had never experimented with it. He pushed me back on the sand and slipped over onto his stomach between my legs and slowly went down on my member. It was a sensation like nothing I had ever experienced.
"Greg...you had better stop...or I will not be responsible for what will happen."
He stopped...got upon his hands and knees and navigated around me to the top of my shoulders and then resumed his activity with his dick hanging in my face. Well there only seemed one sensible thing to do.
. . . . . . . . . . . . .
The trip back to the red handkerchief marker took only a short amount of time and we polled our way through the shallow water and then once back into the deeper water...paddled back along the lake...in reverse of our adventure out. Greg kept whistling a French song called something like "Allueta, Jauntee, Allueta" ...or some such thing. He had enjoyed the canoeing this afternoon...to the max...and so did I, as I reflected on a new horizon that I had encountered. Would I have the interest to pursue it further...or chalk it up to experience...and let it go. What would our friends back home and at school think if they had an inkling of an idea of what we had done for amusement this afternoon. At the time...it had been exciting and the most intense sensation I had ever experienced...but now...I was wondering if I had made a very stupid mistake. I had no particular feeling for the opposite sex...friends yes...but lovers...no. And now I had expressed the most intimate and personal emotions with my best friend. I was going to have to think about this.
Back at the cottage...we hefted the canoe out of the water, turned it upside down to drain and secured it with a chain and lock...even though everyone at the lake was honest. No one had ever had anything stolen.
My mom was setting out the food by the time we got back...and the charcoal was just about ready for grilling.
"You boys want a shower to get the lake water off before supper," she had said?
"Naw"..I had responded, " if it is ok with everyone else...we'll eat first and shower before bed time."
"Suit yourself, dear," she had answered back. "Grab a plate and help yourself to supper."
The food was fantastic. It is amazing how a good meal can lift your spirits. I lost count how many of the brats that I ate...but I had a bottomless pit it seemed. When dad lit the camp fire within the fire ring...mom announced that she had made some homemade ice cream. What a great way to watch the sunset. We took more movie film. Greg clowned around with Barb, Bettyjean and my mom and had us all in stitches. As I watched him...my mood changed. I always wanted a brother of my own...and now, I believe I had one.
Greg went in the cottage to get the first shower...and I helped dad put the lawn chairs into the shed. We snuffed the embers of the dying fire with a little sand and ash...and finally came into the house. I grabbed my shower and then put my robe on...said good night to my mom and dad and started up the stairs to the loft. That crazy Greg was whistling the French canoeing song again as he heard my foot steps on the stairs. I turned out the light and dropped the robe...and climbed into bed next to him. He was as naked as I was. He rolled over on his left side and I snuggled up next to him as close as I could get...threw my arm over his chest...kissed him on the side of his face, and went soundly asleep.
The first two weeks passed in a flash. We had been fishing and canoeing almost every day. With the family, we had explored the foot trails, gone to some socials with friends summering around the lake, and enjoyed all kinds of cook outs and parties. How fast summer seemed to be going. On our second Sunday at the lake...Greg and I packed back packs with the idea of exploring an old trail about a mile from our cottage. We had been told that the land had once belonged to a family who were avid conservationist...but now the sole survivor lived in the east and wrote books of his adventures all over the world. The old home place had crumpled to the ground from neglect and was now a pile of debris and grown over in vining weeds. We were told that it was strictly off limits and for some strange reason...no one in the area ever questioned the reasons. Greg and I, being a couple of adventurous teenagers...decided that there was little
harm that could befall a couple of kids just hiking the estate to see what was there.
We had not told the folks exactly what we were about...we just suggested that we might try to hike around the lake. As soon as the sun came over the woods to the east...we started out. The rest of the family was still in bed. We took enough snacks and water to last all day...and closed the cottage door behind us...hearing the lock snap in it's place.
It took about twenty minutes to get to the ruins of the Henderson house which had once been an impressive home and stepping through the surrounding debris...headed north toward what we thought would be a direct line to the lake. It is likely that our route was not the most direct as we meandered through the pines and ever greens only to find a few hills that were rocky and hard to climb...but persist we did...and coming to a clearing...realized that we were surrounded by rock ledges on all four sides except for a narrow passage way through another hundred yards or so of pines to a clearing by the lake. Obviously deer had used the trail through the rocks to the water because it seemed to be well trampled down. We looked out over the lake...and realized that the clearing and sand beach was the same one we had laid on naked in the sun last week.
"How about that. The Henderson estate butted up to the same area where we landed with the canoe last week," I said to Greg.
"It sure is...now we know how to get here by water," he responded. "Let's check out the surroundings."
"You know...we could come back here again by water...and no would be the wiser. Perhaps we could bring a tent and camp in the rock valley," I suggested.
"I bet there are snakes there among the rocks. It might be safer right here on the beach," Greg countered. "I don't want to share my sleeping bag with any snakes unless it is yours." He winked with a big grin on his face.
"Let's walk back to the rock clearing and take another look," I suggested.
We had gone only a short distance, when we stopped dead in our tracks. In the shade of some tall pines...nestled a small log cabin that looked really old.
"Check it out," we both said almost simultaneously.
Sure enough...the little cabin was about 8 feet wide and about 12 feet long. The logs had been treated with some kind of an oily preservative...and smelled a lot like old creosote. The wooden shake shingles on the roof had moss growing on them...but they seemed to have retained their shape and were about an inch thick. As we approached the door...a piece of metal secured the door hasp. It looked like an arm of a pair of pliers that had been broken at the joint. It was rusty and took a bit of hammering with a rock to loosen it. The door swung open. It was covered with dust and pine needles and smelled like an old barn. There was a rock fireplace and chimney directly to the right of the door and took up most of the wall. A wooden table sat in the middle of the room with a couple of broken chairs and to the extreme left was a pair of bunk frames made out of wood with metal springs attached. The windows had had screen
wiring at one time...but it had rusted away to such an extent that when we touched them...they crumbled in our hands.
We looked the cabin over very carefully inside and then went outside to see if it was safe and tight. Outside of a good cleaning and moss growing on the shade side of the walls...it did appear to be in fairly good condition.
Greg and I looked at each other. This might be the opportunity we were looking for. Wonder if we could clean up the cabin enough to make it sufficient for two guys to camp a few days and be real deep woods campers. How would we approach the folks about this...and would they approve. Technically, we were trespassing...but the owner lived in the east...and would never know.
We discussed how to tactfully approach my parents about letting us take the canoe and camp on the Henderson's beach...without telling them that it was the Henderson's beach. We would take the tent and set it up as a decoy...and clean out the cabin and stay there instead. It all seemed so logical to a teenage mind. We were not wanting to deliberately lie to my parents...just to tell them only what we thought they needed to know. They listened attentively at the dinner table that evening...and said that they would think about it. Greg and I looked at each other...and hoped that they would not think about it too long.
"Dear," my mother started to say, "your father and I met a new neighbor this morning."
"Yeah mom...that's great," I said as we rushed outside without giving her a chance to finish her story. We needed to plan how we could pull off this camping trip with out giving the plot away. Tomorrow...we would get up early and load the canoe...with a hammer, saw, some good screen wire from the shed and some cleaning supplies...and again, leave before the folks got up in the morning.
. . . . . . . . . . . . .
We had swept the cabin clean of pine needles and aging debris...and built a small fire in the fireplace to see if the chimney would draw. Success! Then we set about cutting new screen wire for the windows and nailing a tack strip around the wire to hold it in place. We ate our lunch at the old wood table and repaired the chairs with some carpenter's glue and a calking gun that we found in the tool shed at the cottage. This was going to be such a fun adventure.
It took most of the day to do the repairs that we wanted to do. As we were putting our tools back into the canoe...we had the strangest feeling that we were being watched...but try as we may...we could not seem to locate any person or animal lurking in the shadows. Perhaps it was just imagination trying to psych us out.
"When we get back to the cottage, Greg...leave the tools in the canoe until it gets dark. We don't want the folks to know what we are doing to the old cabin."
"Right...I had already thought that for myself."
We did not say anything to the folks about our day on the lake...as they were too busy talking about the new neighbor they had befriended. We came in and flopped on the couch as teen age boys are prone to doing...and reached for a couple of books laying on the coffee table...flipping through them aimlessly and tossing them back on the table...as we waited for supper to appear on the dinning table.
"Hey there boys...take it easy with those books...they are borrowed...and I don't want to have to replace them from being damaged," my dad called after us.
"Sorry dad...didn't mean any disrespect," I responded.
Mom again tried to tell us about the neighbor and their conversation...but I kind of brushed it off...as grown up stuff of which I was not particularly interested.
We had just finished eating when a knock came at the front door.
"I bet that is him," my dad said...and he and my mother hurried to answer the door.
"Come in Herb...I want you to meet our wandering boys," my mother said.
A tall rugged man with dark hair and a beard and moustache stepped into the room. He looked like he might be about 35 years old...and was rather distinguished in appearance...kind of like a sports figure.
Dad pressed forward shaking his hand and turning to us...said, "Ben Ezra, Greg...I want you to meet Herb Henderson...the author and adventurer."
Greg and I both sprang to our feet...in amazement. So this was the heir to the Henderson estate?
"Boys," he said, as he shook our hands vigorously. "I have heard a lot about you from your parents...and I am pleased to have the opportunity to meet you up close face to face."
"Sir," I said, "have we met before?"
"No...we have not met before...but I have been watching you for the last two days as you were cleaning up my cabin for me."
Greg and I looked at each other and then to my parents and Mr. Henderson...who had smirky grins on their faces.
"You see," he continued, " I was in my woods the day you found the old cabin. I was there again when you were cleaning it up and making some repairs. I did the same thing when I was your age. My Grandfather build that cabin when he was a kid with his brother's help...and they would stay down there in the summer and roam the woods and canoe White Sands lake in an old wooden canoe. My father and then myself...would keep the logs treated with creosote to keep the termites out...and I always thought I would keep it up for my kids...but my daughters had no interest in it. Now you two come along and have cleaned it up again. I heard your conversation about pitching a tent as a decoy but sleeping in the cabin...and I shared that piece of data with your parents...urging them to let you enjoy it while you are here...and I believe that they are going to do so."
We whirled around to look at my parents.
"We are," said my dad, "but it is because of Herb's kind gesture...and because we want you to always represent your activities exactly as they are...and not to do any creative deceptions. Do you understand what we are saying."
"Thanks dad. Thank you too Mr. Henderson."
" That goes for me too," Greg chimed in. "This is going to be a great adventure."
"Speaking of adventures, dear," said my mom, " those books your were so lightly tossing around, belong to Mr. Henderson. He wrote them."
All of a sudden those books became priceless antiques in our hands as we reverently picked them up again, and turned the pages.
"Take them with you to the cabin...to have something to read when you have run out of energy hiking the trails and paddling the lake," he said.
Herb Henderson left after a couple slices of my mom's apple pie and a couple of cups of her coffee...calling to us as he passed through the door into the night...to enjoy the cabin with his best wishes.
"Man, what a nice guy," I said.
"He is...son," my dad responded, " and you and Greg are very fortunate that he is such a nice guy. Treat his cabin and property well...so that you will be invited to use it again next year."
Next year brought me back to reality. We would returning home in nine days...and our summer in Wisconsin would end for twelve long months. We needed to take the time to reflect on each moment from here on out...and not to waste any of it.
It took several hours to pack the canoe with our supplies for a few days at the cabin. My folks had said five days maximum and we had to be home. Mr. Henderson had also told them that he would keep an eye on the cabin to be sure we were safe. If he did so...and I have no reason to doubt his word...we did not see him. We did not feel like we were being spied upon...and we agreed in advance that we would not run around the woods naked...and if we went swimming at the beach...swimming trunks would be worn.
Our first day at the cabin was a lot of fun as we organized our food on shelves and laid a couple of foam pads on the bed springs before putting our sleeping bags on them. We hung our clothes on pegs along the feature wall opposite the door and stacked fire wood outside under a plastic tarp that we had brought along for just that purpose. In my back pack was the two books that Mr. Henderson had left with us, candles and matches...and a small transistor radio. This was going to be a cool five days.
The first day...we were busy all day with fun and chores...but the second day, we awoke to rain on the cabin roof. We had carried the canoe up by the cabin and turned it over so the rain would run off the keel. The drops at times sounded like thousands of tiny rocks hitting a metal roof. We would practice cooking in the fireplace, do some cross word puzzles, play cards, read and take a few naps. Perhaps even listen to the radio...but to our surprise...during the rain...the reception on the radio was too poor to waste the battery on a bunch of scratchy sounds.
We cooked bacon in a skillet in the fireplace and with the bacon grease...cooked some eggs and a few pancakes. Afterwards...we wiped down the cast iron skillet with an old towel but did not wash it. A seasoned fry pan should never be washed without restoring the seasoning of the metal...so we had been told. I read about half the first book that Mr. Henderson had written. Like my dad...I was a fast reader. Greg was working on a crossword puzzle book.
"What is a ten letter word that begins with the letter "L" stands for talking too much ," Greg asked?
"Loquacious," I answered.
"How did you know that?"
"My dad is always telling me that I use a lot of words to say very little," I replied.
"If my dad called me that...I would be pissed off," Greg retorted!
I got up from my bunk and went to the table where he was sitting, put my arms around his shoulders and said, "It is better to be pissed off than pissed on."
"I suppose so," he laughed, "but if you are being sucked off...it is equally fun to give as well as get."
"Is that a fact," I retorted, " I am not sure that I understand the details...can you demonstrate?"
Laying his pencil in the crevice of his word book...he stood up and started unbuttoning my shirt and then unzipping my jeans. Once he had completed the task...I did the same for him.
The rain continued to fall the rest of the day...but the inside of the cabin was warm and cozy...and we managed to stretch our playful adventure for several hours. But after our energies were spent...neither of us felt inclined to put our clothing back on. It was nice to be naked in your own place and to reach out and touch your best friend with out fear of rebuke. It was a great rainy day.
The sun came out on the third day at the cabin and although the woods was dripping with water drop diamonds...the lake was inviting in the sunshine as we paddled all around the shore line. About mid day...we came upon a group of scouts who told us of their week on the water and how yesterday's rains had dampened their spirits. We both looked at each other and smiled. No such thing in our camp. In the late afternoon... Mr. Henderson and his wife came to our beach in their power boat to see if we were ok and to bring some care packages from home and a couple sacks of chocolate covered peanut clusters for us to enjoy in the evening. Chocolate always makes everything better. They said that the folks were fine and that they expected us back on the fifth day. It would soon be time to start preparing to return home for the rest of the summer.
"I have some good news for you Ben...your dad wanted to tell you himself...but I think you would enjoy hearing it now. I sold your parents my land here. Emily and the girls are city folks...so we are returning to the East Coast. When we sign the legal papers day after tomorrow Henderson's woods will become Jacobson's woods and will belong to your family...and the cabin specifically will belong to you."
Greg and I gasped at the same time.
"No shit, Mr. Henderson?"
He laughed at the slip up, "No kidding, Greg. The cabin and the woods will belong to the Jacobson's in a couple of days. Enjoy the rest of the day in your cabin...but remember...you have to return home in two days."
"Yes sir," Greg responded.
"Thanks, Mr. and Mrs. Henderson," I added.
"Greg, do you think we ought to return early to help get ready," I asked.
" Do you really want to leave the cabin that soon." he queried?
"No...lets stay tomorrow and we will get up early on the fifth day and be back before lunch...maybe in time to see them sign the papers and get possession of the land title."
We cooked up a feast for supper and lay on our bunks talking about owning the cabin and how to plan to come back next summer. We were too excited to sleep...but as the embers in the fireplace grew dimmer...so did our conversation until our eye lids got too heavy to resist. I scampered out of my sleeping bag and crawled in with Greg. I was too tired for fun and games...but I wanted the warmth of his body next to me. He offered no objections. The last thing I remembered was his hand over my torso with his fingers wrapped around my dick.
The fourth day arrived long before we woke up. Greg's hand was still on my dick and my dick was standing at full mast. I needed to pee...but that would kill my hard on. Unable to stand it much longer...I hoped out of his sleeping bag and stepped out the door. Greg was shortly behind me...and we watered the weeds around the cabin. We had agreed not to go outside the cabin naked...but here we stood in all of our naked glory...whizzing away.
"Want to run down to the lake and go skinny dipping," he asked.
Against my better judgment...I said, "yes."
The water was cold...but it felt good too...as our skins were sticky from night perspiration...and after twenty minutes or so in the water...when we climbed out and dashed for the cabin...the night stickiness was gone. How much of it was sweat and how much of it was leaking semen was anyone's guess...but at the moment...we felt clean. The outside air was cold. We dressed in tee shirts and shorts, socks, jeans and hooded sweatshirts...and then fixed breakfast. By mid morning...we were in the canoe again to explore a few more water trails while we had time. Tomorrow we would return home to the cottage...and a few days later...we would head back to our home state. We saw several of the lake families with whom we had become acquainted and ran into a young assistant park ranger named Ted. He was about 23 years of age and very friendly. He told us that he was stationed at Upper Fish Trap Lake...and if we had time...to paddle
through the maze of canals and come up and camp on the island there. It was a kind offer...and I suspect we could have had some fun with him...but time was not going to permit such an adventure this year. My paths with Ted would cross in years to come...but at age 15...I did not yet know that. The hours of the day clicked away...and as the sunset was coming on in glowing reds, orange and gold's...we made our way back to the cabin for our last night there.
We toted the canoe up next to the cabin and turned it keel side up...and took the paddles into the cabin with us again. We had been warned to never leave the canoe paddles out...because the salt form one's perspiration in the palm of the hand...would be absorbed by the bulb of the paddle...and beavers would chew the handles off of the paddles to get to the salt. As soon as it got dark...we ventured back to the lake for baths and hurried back to the cabin because the mosquitoes were out in full force. We ate supper by the fireplace...and talked about how much fun the last four days had been. Although we were tired...we needed more. We laid our bunk pads on the floor with the sleeping bags on top...and laid before the fire still completely naked.
I looked over at Greg who was grinning as he nurtured a hard on. I turned on my pad to the opposite end...and we joined in some 69ing activities. I got up on my hands and knees over him...and felt him take my dick into his mouth...and I did the same for him. We would get close and back off...and get close again. We stopped to let our hair triggers rest a bit. He rolled over on his stomach...and I creped over top and laid on top of him...my dick resting in the crack of his ass. He had already lubed up...and adding a little bit of oil to my rod...inserted it into him. We gyrated back and forth for a few minutes. I knew I would not last long...but I wanted to massage his swollen prostate with my penis. I had him get up on his hands and knees and I re-inserted and slowly pushed in and pulled back. His breathing was getting heavier and his sphincter muscles were tightening down on my shaft. A couple more stabs...and he climaxed...moaning a shrill gasp of pleasure.
"I'm Cumming," he shouted...and ejaculated multitudes of spurts onto a towel under him. Even though he had shot his load...he said to me, " Ben don't pull out and don't stop thrusting."
I continued to push and could feel myself getting really close.
"Don't stop, Ben...keep going...I am going to cum again."
Just as I ejaculated my copious load into him...he had a second orgasm and again shot stark white semen onto the towel. Both of us became immediately too sensitive to continue...and hastily pulled apart. Too weary to return to our bunks...we snuggled beneath a common blanket...and went contentedly asleep.
I woke up just as the sky was beginning to lighten. Sun rise would be about 45 minutes away. Greg snuggled closer...and I put my arm around him and pulled closer. He smelled like pine scent and semen...wonderful! My hand slipped lower over his belly and onto the groin where he had a hard full erection. A couple of strokes on his shaft brought him to full awareness that morning had arrived.
"Roll over, Ben...on your other side."
I did as he instructed and felt his hand lube my rectum and could hear the squishy sounds of him oiling his shaft. He put it into place and gently pushed in...pulled back to allow for a gasp from me...and then pushed in a little deeper. It took about six insertions to get all the way in, as deep as he could go...and then a slow in and out stroke. It felt so good. I was a little longer than Greg, but he was much thicker...and the size and pressure got me hot, fast. Very soon, he was shooting his load inside of me with heavy panting on both of our parts. When he pulled out...he wiped himself off on an old towel and told me to turn over on my back. I did so...as he lifted my legs into the air and reinserted his dick into my canal. He took the same oil and spread it generously over my shaft and began to slow stroke me with the head of his dick massaging my prostate gland. It did not take many strokes to make me
erupt. The sensation tingled all over me and I nearly drowned myself in semen. For having been an extreme novice three weeks ago to the joys of sexual stimulation at someone else's hand...I was finding that intense pleasure of sharing with another person.
We ran to the lake for a quick swim to get the oil and the semen off our bodies and than hurried back to the cabin to get dressed, have breakfast and start for home. With the canoe loaded in about an hour..we set off...securing our cabin behind us as we had found it. Once the papers were signed...I would return with a padlock so our secret place would be preserved just for us.
It seemed like the trip by water back to the White Sands Cottage took very little effort and not much time. The family was up and around. We had a second breakfast of biscuits, gravy and sausage before we left for town to meet the Henderson's at the attorney's office. The whole procedure took very little time. Mr. and Mrs. Henderson and their daughters waved good bye to us...and we returned home with the deed for the land and cabin. I was just too excited to express the contentment I was feeling. Greg was happy for us too...but as a friend and neighbor...it was not like it really was part of his life. We assured him that he would always be part of the family. I hoped he believed that.
We would be packing the car and trailer for home in just a couple more days. How fast the last three and a half weeks had gone. It would not have broken my heart if mom and dad had suddenly decided to spend the next two months here...but they both had business back home to attend to. They did say that perhaps we could come back to the lake in August for a couple of weeks...which was encouraging. I did not want to leave the cabin and the woods...and I did not want to part from Greg when we got home. He had become my brother and I did not want him out of my life...even though he only lived a few houses down from us.
I persuaded my parents to let Greg and me have one more evening at the cabin before we left. Against the all odds, they agreed...with the understanding that we would be back to the cottage by breakfast the next morning. We would pack and leave for home then. We gathered our familiar camp items and loaded the canoe that very afternoon and paddled off for white sands beach...and our cabin beneath the pines. On opening the door...it was just as we had left it...only this time...there was a safety padlock through the door hasp.
We set up the room as before...and built a fire in the fireplace. Both of us were too excited to eat anything right then...but it seemed like a good idea to go for one last swim. In bright colored swimming trunks...we raced into the water...which was finally getting warm. It was delightful. It seemed like only a few minutes but it had actually been nearly an hour and a half that we swam and splashed each other. Finally, as the sun was getting to the top of the pines...we climbed out of the water...took off our trunks and wrung the last of the lake water from them...and walked back to the cabin in the buff. Inside, we dried off but remained naked the rest of the evening. By the time supper was over and clean up done...it was dark outside.
We pulled our bunk pads onto the floor again after moving the table and chairs back against the cabin wall...and covered them both with a wide blanket. By fire light...Greg lay on his back and I laid down on top of him...and we just held each other close and quiet.
"Greg...I do not want either of us to forget these days here at the cabin," I said... "and when we get home...I want to spend time with you again...as much as we can."
"Do you think your parents will really come back up here in August," he asked?
"I sure hope so," I responded, "Do you think your folks will let you come back with us?"
"If your mom and dad ask them...I am sure they will," he replied, "they think you and your family are just about the best people on the block."
"I want you here with me...when we come back here to our cabin," I said.
"Me too, buddy...me too."
Greg reached up and kissed me...which he usually did not do. I usually had to take the lead. I laid my head back on his shoulder and just held him close...and he put his arms up and over my shoulders and did the same thing. There in the dark of the cabin with the fireplace embers dying down...we ran our tongues all over each other's body. For the first time in my life...I felt the ecstatic sensation of being rimmed and edged at the same time. Our love making continued deep into the morning hours...with everything one could do with a partner...being done between us. After several ejaculations each...we pulled another blanket up over us and drifted off to sleep with each other's semen all over our bodies. At that point...we neither cared nor wanted to be separated.
We were both a bit quiet the next morning. Leaving the cabin was more painful than the last time. We packed the canoe with our things...kissed each other behind the closed door one last time within the cabin...and hurried to the beach where our loaded canoe awaited us.
It was good to get back to the cottage. After a hearty breakfast...we helped pack the car and trailer for tomorrow mornings departure. The sadness of leaving had departed when we were in the company of the rest of the family. Tomorrow...bright and early, we would depart. My mother told us at lunch that she had called Mr. and Mrs. Whitacre and told them that we were leaving for home in the morning... and would drop Greg off when we got there. She also said that the Whitacre's had already agreed to let Greg return with us in August. Greg and I looked at each other...bumped knees under the table and cheered. There was hope for the rest of the summer after all.