This is my first attempt at gay fiction as well as my first attempt at any kind of non-work related writing. I started writing just for the hell of it. It's an experiment. Not sure I have the ability or the time to continue the effort.
If this sample of the stuff that's been kicking around in my brain pricks up your fantasies, I'd like to hear more about your fantasies. It would supply more motivation. I would appreciate constructive advice from those who are more experienced at this than I am.
My skin thickened over time by doing the same thing with obvious flames that you do with any kind of poison - flush it.
YA CAN'T GET THERE FROM HERE
It began when he looked up from his chair on the porch.
"You Shawn?"
The "aw-shucks" grin and the welcome in his eyes told me that I wasn't in New York City any more.
Let me back it up a little.
If you haven't already figured it out, my name's Shawn. I live in the Bronx because that's where I've been working for the last 20 years. I've always considered myself a reasonably content guy - that is until lately.
Now that the boys are away at school, and my wife has her own separate life, I've gotten to feeling that something is missing. I can't put my finger on it, but I can feel it's not there.
I turn 42 next year so I put it down to creeping middle-age and try to ignore it. I know what you're thinking. It's not "mid-life". I haven't started drooling on my trench coat in public parks yet. And, if I do say so myself, I'm in ok shape for a guy my age.
Having a boy's face embarrassed me in my 20's. But now that I'm in my 40's I like it. I just had to trim back the beard I grew back then to make myself look older than 13. It's got a new life as a bad assed five o'clock shadow now. I have a thick head of black hair that I wear short. I figure if that ever starts thinning I can always move some up from my chest. I stand at 6' and weigh in at a solid 200 pounds without too much flab. I've got some definition but I'm not into the musclehead thing. I'd be the first to admit that I'm not "Mega-Stud" but I'm not ashamed to undress in a locker room either. I do get a little nervous when I catch myself checking out the other guys' equipment there. But all guys do that, right?
My wife was the last person I'd expect to notice I was spending more time staring into space than usual. In one of those "duh... why didn't I think of that" moments, she suggested that I get away from everything for awhile.
"Try roughing it for a few weeks in the jungle, Tarzan. You know: the guttural, grunting, male primitive thing. Get in touch with your inner cave-man." She added a postscript. "Give my love to Cheetah."
Fuck her sarcasm! We lived under the same roof as a matter of convenience. She was still pissed that the young tough she couldn't tame came out in spades when she began to go her own way. She had expected me to fall apart. I bought a Harley.
I had the vacation time coming. I took it.
So here I was at checking into a small hunting lodge in the woods near Mt. Katahdin. It wasn't the Amazon, but then leopard-skin loincloths aren't my thing either. It was, Ahyuup, Maine. Woods, moose, lakes, salty old misers dispensing hoary wisdom encapsulated in terse enigmatic epigrams.
The problem was that the eyes currently looking into mine from across the porch were definitely not attached to a "Bert and I" clone. This particular specimen of down east male was made of solid fur-covered meat rather than stringy dried-out leather.
The width of his shoulders strained the top of his plaid shirt. The shirt got some relief by the time it narrowed to a waist chiseled by what I took to be a lifetime of hard work. His size 13 feet wore thick-soled work boots. Given his rugged appearance, I wouldn't have been surprised if he had used a rope instead of a black belt to hold up his jeans - just in case he had to wrestle a b'ar or two on his way out to bag breakfast.
I was already familiar with the grin curling the edges of his wide mouth. My eyes had just noticed the same expression on the NAPA Auto Parts bear pasted on his cap. With a shaggy head of dirty blond hair, he looked like an overgrown Bam-Bam who had survived the passing of the stone age. To put it plainly, he was built like the proverbial brick shit-house. "Corn fed" as my buddies at Iowa State used to say about the local competition.
I learned later that he only had a few years on me, but I found myself giving him the kind of space other guys had to work long and hard to earn in my world. You may have heard rumors that surgery is a cutthroat profession.(snicker) The reality is that in comparison Piranha run sensitivity groups.
Never being one to quit while I was ahead, I put in the extra time along with a pound of flesh and came out as a bone and joint man. If it weren't for athletes and their injuries the members of our noble profession would be filling out applications for food stamps. So most of my colleagues and I were college jocks turned sports fans. We operated one of the last dwindling branches of the male club in the profession. We had the raunchy locker room humor to prove it.
I was surprised by my reaction to the 6'4" 250 pound presence facing me. I usually consider it a challenge when guys bigger than me do the macho dance. My reaction to this particular big guy was different. I was on auto-pilot. I saw myself nodding my head like an idiot, delighted to be the object his expectation. Hell, I was basking in a warm glow of satisfaction having answered to my own name! Nice performance shithead. Back in the city, do that to a stranger and you might as well walk around wearing a neon sign broadcasting "shark bait".
My last memory of feeling that kind of instant male-on-male bond goes back to the time of "best-friends-to-the-end" before puberty struck. At the time the cause of my mental block seemed oblivious to the effect he was having.
"Seeing as how you're my only guest for the next three weeks, I am at your disposal. Trails, fishing, climbing, camping or just kicking back, whatever your pleasure."
That's when it sunk in. I had a huge block of unscheduled time stretching out in front of me. And I had what looked like the makings of a new "best-friend" with whom to share it. Shit, I was already laying out a floor plan for the tree fort.
"Come in, Rangoon"
A hairy foreign body waving in front of my face was competing with the Big-Bird daydream for my attention. I could not attribute my shift in attention to my keen powers of observation. Anything as big as that hand can't be squeezed into the category of subtle. He had risen from his chair and had been in the process of extending the hand towards me when it changed direction and moved from welcome to wake-up. Mission accomplished, the hand extended again. I heard a voice.
"Sorry, I'm forgetting my manners. I'm Mark, glad to meet ya"
The large hairy paw enveloped my right hand and moved it up and down. Along with the calluses I could feel the warmth both inside and out. Bam-Bam morphed into Gentle Ben.
"Damn! Put a fence around that imagination, dude!" I hissed at myself.
"Run into much traffic on the way up? Here, lemme take that. How 'bout I help ya get settled in."
He kept right on talking unaware that he stood at the focal point of my wool gathering.
"Ok", I responded to demonstrate my proficiency in the subtle art of conversation. I allowed him to deposit my gym bag at the door and led him away to my 4x4. When we started walking my tongue came unstuck.
"Traffic on 95 moved right along. Guess you don't get too many leaf-peepers in October this far north. I really felt the last couple miles up to your place though. That dirt road made this thing here ride like .... well, a truck." I shot him a rueful grin, one hand on the cab, the other rubbing a sore backside.
"You won't have any more trouble with that. No more roads. No paving, no dirt, nothing but woods all the way into Canada.
"This wouldn't be a bad place for my little safety speech. Try to run me down before you go out for a hike. I've got maps and I know the trails around here. I can also tell the rangers what time you left and in what direction you were headed when you don't come back. Or," he smiled engagingly, "I can come along as your guide". I felt the light touch of a paw on my shoulder.
For a minute I melted. I felt this crazy impulse to bury my face in his fur. When I shot a furtive glance over at his muzzle to see if he had noticed anything, I surprised a flash of what looked like loneliness. His cobalt eyes leapt out of a face with a square jaw defined by brownish fur. I brought that particular freight train to a screeching halt in my brain. Whoa! Where did that come from?
I'm sure every young kid wants to curl up against something warm, fuzzy and strong for safety and protection. Some little guys have imaginary animals, some little guys have make-believe friends, some little guys have fathers. Looks like I still craved the "'atta boy" my dad hadn't known how to give.
Whoa dude! You're all grown up now. Hell, you've got kids of your own to look after.
This internal dialog was over in a matter of seconds and I heard words coming out of my mouth before my silence could be taken for disinterest.
"Don't want to put you though a lot of extra work".
"No trouble at all. Fact is I'd enjoy it myself. Don't find myself with an empty house this time of year too often. I'm partial to the woods in the Fall and, to be honest, I could use the company. I'm off the beaten path some so things get kinda quiet here after winter sets in."
He paused and seemed to catch himself.
"Sorry, didn't mean to ramble and get all pushy. This here's your vacation and I'm your host. You do whatever you please, don't give me no mind."
He removed his paw from my shoulder and the emptiness it left behind wore an ache I recognized.
"I just don't want to be a bother is all", I replied. "Truth is, I'd be grateful for the company and the help."
The grin was back as he shot a glance in my direction.
"Don't see as how a guy like you could ever be a bother".
"Thanks, buddy"
My ears flushed pink around the edges. Somehow my arm was now stretched across his back. Damned if I could remember how it got there.
We started unloading my gear and moving it to my room in the lodge. I had packed what I could remember from my time in the Boy Scouts: a compass, fishing line, hooks, sterno, flash light, knife, cooking tools, back pack, pup tent, sleeping bag, hiking shorts, boots, lined jeans, flannel shirts, warm vests and long-johns. I also had the usual outdoor vacation stuff right down to a container of OFF. Mark smiled when he saw it drop out of the box he was carrying.
"Don't really need this stuff in October. Anyway we use a thing called Skin-so-Soft up here. Avon makes it. Takes care of black flies and you stink a hell of a lot sweeter. And speaking of stink, I've only got the one bath for now. It's got a couple shower heads at one end and a toilet and urinal at the other. If you wanna scrub your ass or take a piss in private just close the door and I'll take care of things later"
"S'ok. Just us guys here, right?" The tired clich‚ rolled out automatically.
After we had moved all the stuff up to my room, Mark went off to do chores and left me to my own devices. Something about my host seemed out of synch with the surroundings. It didn't take long for me to hit on what it was. I remembered hearing all the "r's" in that conversation. Mark must have grown up someplace else.
The drive had done me in so I closed my door and lay on the bed. "Just for a few seconds", I told myself. As my head hit the pillow, a picture of Mark's hand on my shoulder slid comfortably into the darkness behind my eyes and I slept soundly.
The grin left Mark's face when he got outside the lodge. He felt something powerful between himself and this guy. What was worse, he couldn't stop himself from showing it.
"Get a grip man" he lectured himself. "This guy is a guest, he's paying money. You can't be that hard-up for somebody to talk to. Being friendly is good for business, but stuff the rest or you'll wind up spooking him."
And he was scared. No one had affected him this way since ...... well, since before. As they often did when he was alone on a Fall day, Mark's thoughts turned to a time in his life that had ended 25 years ago.
He had chosen the life of a park ranger because he liked the solitude and the work. The Adirondack cabin the NYS Forestry Service had provided for him, his wife and his young son was perfect. Toby was growing up to be just like his dad whom he adored. The feeling was mutual and the family's living arrangements gave Mark plenty of opportunity to share the beauty and secrets of the outdoors with his boy. He remembered thinking "it doesn't get any better than this." Then immediately, "better not say that out loud and tempt fate." As it turned out, fate was a mind reader.
Just before his 15th birthday, Toby was mauled by a black bear. It wasn't the boy's fault really, nor was it the bear's. Unknown to him he had stumbled into the brush that was hiding her cubs just as she was moving to retrieve them. He was in her way. He was advancing on her young. That's how mama bear saw it and attacked without hesitation. Toby never stood a chance.
Although she had wanted to set up housekeeping in the woods as much as Mark did, Toby's mother cursed her husband and his "goddamn job". The marriage did not survive their son and Mark had lost track of her whereabouts a long time ago.
Afterwards Mark was friendly but wary of getting involved with anyone. The scars ran deep. He dropped out of life and became a loner for awhile. It wasn't a big thing for him to hole up alone in the woods through the winter months. Ten years ago he had purchased an abandoned logging camp. He rebuilt it himself and turned his love of the outdoors into a thriving business. Somewhere along the line people stopped being a threat and his natural friendliness returned. He wasn't as carefree as before Toby died, but he was working at it.
Toby's accident happened in October. That meant it was anniversary time again for Mark. As he carried a load of wood indoors, a thought worn smooth by familiarity still had enough sharp edges to prick its way into his brain. "Wonder what Toby would be like now if he were still alive." At this point in the reverie Mark would revive a father's fantasy entitled: adult son as good buddy. Then he'd kick his ass for letting himself go soft, get busy and avoid thinking all together.
But today his fantasy took a different turn. "Shawn here is just the kinda guy I hoped Toby would turn out to be." Toby would be a lot younger now, but still old enough to have a man's character. He got that far before he stopped.
"Stop wool gathering you old fool, this guy already has a father, and one is more than any man needs in this life. Given the shape you're in, you wouldn't even be able keep up with him, let alone try to look after him." That last was a fib. Working the lodge alone this past decade had kept him in pretty good shape for a man of any age.
By the time Shawn woke up and came downstairs, the sun was setting and he could feel October. Mark had quite a few logs going in a rock and mortar fireplace. Man, that thing was so high you could almost walk into it. The mounted heads and two-man saws on the walls were in keeping with the building's origins. But Shawn was a little surprised at the vaulted ceiling. He figured that must be one of Mark's improvements. When he checked later he found out that his guess had been on target. When Mark replaced the roof, he ripped out the second floor except for the rooms facing the back. He bordered these with a walkway and open stairs. Directly under the upstairs rooms lay the bathroom and more guest rooms against the back wall. The remainder of the first floor was open space with a kitchen area at one end, a fireplace at the other and a huge multi-paned glass window in the front wall that extended to the second floor. With the second floor gone, the chimney on the side wall could be seen all the way to the roof. Voila - a cathedral.
"Hi sleepyhead" Mark called from the kitchen, "want a beer?"
"Sure", Shawn stretched, "perfect way to spend my first day of freedom: first as a slug and then a drunk"
"I don't think a 2 hour nap and a few beers with dinner call for the AA hotline just yet."
"Oh, so now it's a few beers is it? My mother warned me about guys like you."
Shawn found himself at ease with Mark. Maybe it was the absence of the competitiveness he usually felt when he was with other guys. Probably because Mark was older and seemed to be so at home with himself he wasn't out to prove anything.
A few moments later Shawn stood with beer in hand facing the big picture window. The sight was pretty impressive. Rising above a thick pine forest, the ridge leading from Baxter peak was a silhouette in the fading sunlight. There was a background of clouds reflecting the daylight as it cooled from orange to indigo by way of a succession of brilliant purples. The scene framed in wood wanted only the familiar icon with dates and the label "October" beneath it.
Off to his left was a mountain stream chuggling along its way. It ground up the fading light into pixels and shards and flushed them away into inkpools on its darkening surface. He saw a doe moving through the clearing, ears pricked, warily making her way to lap at the icy water. Hanging over it all was the musk of October evening that found its way inside through the chinks.
Mark walked over from the kitchen area, and stood silently watching Shawn at the window. He saw a muscular definition that showed through the watch-plaid shirt Shawn was wearing. The stretch in the material formed by his shoulders had tapered to folds by the time it was tucked into his jeans. He was mesmerized by the patterns of light and shadow the flaming logs produced against that strong back. This time of year Mark's witching hour came around at 5:00 p.m. But tonight the magic was thicker, more palpable as if the reddish-gold light from his hearth was made of butterscotch.
"Give ya a penny for them." Shawn spoke to the man behind him.
"Then I'd better get a few more together so you get your money's worth" Mark parried.
"No, I'm serious" Shawn said. "What kind of thoughts run through a guy's head when he's alone with this kind of perfection".
"Well, what kind of thoughts are running through the head starin' back at ya in the window?"
"I asked you first."
"Yeah, ya did at that. I was just wondering how a surgeon keeps up a body like that. Can't be the working conditions."
"You wouldn't say that if you ever tried pulling a 250 pound linebacker's hip back into place."
"Never looked at it that way."
Shawn's mouth widened into a wolfish grin. "'Sides, Orthopods are big into team sports. We like to encourage every opportunity for injury we can. Now I get to ask you a question"
"What is this, Truth or Dare?
"Yup - be careful or I'll come up with a dare that'll embarrass your ass off. I used to be good at this.... How old are you?"
"Still young enough to take on a city boy for sassing his elders.... I'm 48."
"Shit man! You sure don't look it. You look great....." Shawn felt embarrassed at letting his feelings show that much, so he backtracked with the flippant addition "...... for an old geezer, that is."
Mark lunged in mock anger. "Geezer my ass!..."
"Which is toast!"
They both wound up in a tangle of wool, flannel and denim on the floor, laughing too hard to continue their sparring. Instead, they stretched out on the bearskin rug in front of the fire. The season and the fire were made for yarn swapping. Like longtime buddies remembering things from childhood, each story began with "remember when". Nothing deep, safe stuff, the stuff of boasts, cut from the fantasy fabric of experiences woven through the pages of BoysLife. They became Tom and Huck in the far away land of eternal summer. Neither man could remember a time when they had more thoroughly enjoyed themselves. Surrounded by the safety of their spoken words, they occasionally allowed their unspoken feelings for one another to dart out. It could be carried in a brief look, a pause, or a posture. But it shouted "I'm liking you a lot"
By now, they were both tipsy, dinner having been forgotten in the kitchen. That was the reason Shawn gave for what happened next.
They had lost themselves in the warmth of the fire and the security of the cabin. After a period of silence they remained lying on their sides unaware and unembarrassed that they were staring into each others faces with open curiosity. Mark reached out a finger to trace the lines of Shawn's face. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world. It was the continuation of an unspoken conversation freed from the distraction of words. The finger was callused but the touch was gentle and its action betrayed the reservoir of tenderness stored within the outsized innkeeper. A tenderness and feeling that spelled warmth, approval and safety.
When his body registered what was happening, silent tears fed by Shawn's own internal reservoir began their long delayed journey. They were surprised to feel the air at last and even more so when they met the unexpected furrows in a face that belonged to a boy who had left childhood far behind.
"Wanna tell me bout it?" Mark encouraged.
"Hey, that's my line" Shawn managed to get out. He hoped his attempt at humor would mask his embarrassment.
When Mark just smiled and his touch changed from curiosity to concern, Shawn began.
It took him awhile. He had walled it off for so long he had forgotten it was there; the raw need, the physical ache to be touched and caressed just because another person is immersed in the beauty and wonder of you; the need to experience the kind of care that creates as well as appreciates its object; the hunger for approval that was not a payment for services rendered.
When he had finished, Mark opened out his beefy arms in an invitation that allowed Shawn to gave free reign to the afternoon impulse he had restrained. He rested his head against the warm fleece on Mark's chest and felt safe. They lay together, overgrown Teddy and cub, sharing their homebrewed antidote to loneliness until their eyes closed and they slept.
Somewhere in the night the alcohol wore off. Each returned to his own room and left the meaning of what had passed between them to get sorted out in the morning.
The smell of coffee, bacon and toast woke Shawn like a whiff of salts. As he cleared out the cobwebs from his brain, last evening's events took their place. Holy Shit! He had poured out his guts, let himself cry like a little kid and jumped into the arms of a stranger. 'Course Mark had crossed a few boundaries too. He felt embarrassed, a little foolish - and defenseless. He wanted to pass it off with a "dude! did we get wasted last night" attitude. But along with the bravado came the ache. Not a good trade-off. Honesty time. He hadn't felt that content and secure in a long while.
The problem now was, he didn't have a clue as to how face Mark without being awkward. In such close quarters he couldn't avoid him. He had the feeling Mark wouldn't let him get away with pretending it never happened. Fuck it! He wasn't gonna start running. He'd just go down for breakfast and take it from there.
"You sure do like to sleep a lot. Good thing one of us here knows when to get out of bed." Mark wore a raffish grin on his open face and a held out a plate heaped with breakfast. "It must be 7:00 by now. Half the day is gone already. Thought you wanted to see our beautiful country while you were here."
"Hey, Paul Bunyon, we city boys are just not used to drinkin' all that moonshine without dinner. 'A few beers', my ass."
"Boy, was I drunk last night?" Mark's eyebrows raised questioningly.
"No. I figured you wouldn't let me get away with that one."
"Damn straight about that!"
"Not exactly the words I'd have chosen, but since you brought it up."
"You afraid of what happened?"
"Yeah, a little. I have to admit you're a good listener and god knows that stuff's been eatin' at me for awhile .... But ....
"But what?" Mark's face hadn't lost it's warmth and his voice didn't show fear or disgust.
"Well, guys just don't do that kind of thing."
"There a law about that somewhere?"
"You know what I mean."
"Look, Shawn, what happened last night felt natural to me. I'm an expert on stuffing feelings. But I'm trying real hard not to do that anymore. Sure I'm a little scared about what happened, but I'm more scared of walking away from it. You lose too many people important to you that way. I liked holding you. It felt right. I admit it. Last night we were both feelin' kinda lonely for our own reasons. I was glad I was able to give you some relief, and honored that you trusted me. Doesn't mean I'm fixin' to go out and buy me a pink dress."
Shawn couldn't help giggling at the image of the hairy telephone poles standing in front of him coming out from under a pink dress. "What brand of cigar would you favor as an accessory?"
Giggling is infectious and pretty soon both men had graduated to belly laughs, doubling over tears running down their cheeks at the picture they painted.
Shawn recovered first. "Damn Mark! How the hell do you do that? Whittle mountains down to molehills. You win. I'll chill and just go with it. That's what I came up here for anyway."
"Does that mean we're still on for the prom?"
He just missed the seat cushion that came flying at him.
The next few days passed in quiet contentment for both men. Shawn insisted on helping with some remodeling saying that he needed some heavy work if he didn't want to go slack. "''Sides", he added, "bones, logs, what the hell's the difference?"
"The bill" Mark supplied helpfully.
Mark cooked hefty meals for them both in return for the favor. Shawn set out to discover the nearby woods promising Mark he'd ask for help if he wanted to go out any farther. They passed the frosty evenings in front of a roaring fire with a few beers to lubricate the process of swapping stories and sinking deeper into friendship.
Each morning after the first, Shawn's internal clock got him out of bed at 5:00 am. He was also motivated by the thought of beating Mark to the shower as payback for the "sleepyhead" remarks. He left the door to the bathroom open so he could enjoy being annoyingly cheerful when his buddy stumbled in a few minutes later. When he caught himself checking out Mark's equipment, he quickly looked away before he gave Mark something else to tease him about.
Once when Mark's morning piss was arching noisily into the urinal, Shawn had a more uninterrupted view from the shower. Mark's hefty piece put in a respectable appearance against the furry ham that was holding it. Shawn figured him to be about 6" soft. As Mark slid the loose skin back, Shawn noted with approval that, like his own, it had missed the surgeon's knife. Shawn strained to force a retreat of his own thickening pony before it reached its full 8". He failed. Looking back he saw Mark shaking off what was now a monster. Hell, his dick was drooling.
For a minute Shawn panicked, but as usual Mark's humor saved him from embarrassment. "Ahh Of all the evolutionary improvements in the male of the species, morning wood has got to be the best. Researchers agree that if it were missing, life as we know it would cease to exist."
Shawn later chalked it up to acute hornitis. He had not jacked-off since he arrived. The reason for the self-imposed celibacy was fear of embarrassment. Shawn had never shot a load in silence.
During breakfast on Friday, Mark told Shawn that the local weather forecast called for an unseasonably warm day and asked if he was ready for a hike up the mountain. An enthusiastic Mark was hard for Shawn to resist, so the two set out after packing the necessary equipment.
This was one of those times when the weather report had been an understatement. It was pushing 90 before they reached the treeline. On the way Shawn pointed out a pond that spelled relief. Mark checked for other hikers nearby and satisfied himself that they were alone. He looked suspiciously gleeful when he invited the "city boy" to join him as he shucked his clothes and dove in. Shawn discovered the reason for his partner's glee the second his body hit the water. The spring-fed pond was, to quote Shawn's verbal explosion, "Fuckin' Frigid!"
"Hey Nanuk! Some fuckin' guide you are. Do all your victims freeze their balls off?".
Mark faced him with a look of innocent surprise. "I do believe your lips are turning the darkest shade of blue ever seen on a primate."
"The only primate I've noticed around here is the gorilla that runs the lodge. Besides, it's not my fucking lips that concern me at the moment, asshole. My balls passed that stage on their way to frostbite a few seconds ago."
"You don't say?" Mark said as he took a step towards his shivering companion and goosed him.
They worked off their chill by chasing each other around playing grab-ass for awhile.
Finally Shawn held up his hands. "Uncle! Truce! I need to stretch out in the sun."
They both waded to shore and climbed up on a flat secluded rock to dry off.
They lay there companionably side by side, each man lost in his own thoughts. Then Mark broke the silence. The words came out in a casual tone that suggested Mark had been carrying on an internal dialog with Shawn as the unsuspecting partner. Shawn had gotten used to that happening over the course of the week and put it down to Mark's having spent so much time alone.
"Ever wonder what it'd be like to make it with a guy?"
It was a sign of how comfortable Shawn had become in Mark's presence, and the fact that Mark's voice held more curiosity than come-on that he responded.
"Guess every guy wonders about that sooner or later. Yeah, I hafta admit the thought has crossed my mind. You?"
"Me too but I never had the guts to do anything about it. I'm a little old to run off looking for anyone to try it out with now."
"Cut the shit. In the sex appeal dept you are still one serious dude."
"Put your money where your mouth is, buddy! If you ever thought about trying it out for real, this old dog wouldn't stand a chance."
"Better make that bear, and you'd be at the top of the list"
"You mean there's a fuckin' list?", Mark said in mock dismay. "Now I know why you ran this far North. To get away from all your fans busting on the door to the locker room, Vaseline in hand...... But you didn't count on me falling for you like a ton of bricks...."
Mark fell silent.
"Jesus man, I'm sorry! That one took me by surprise too. I don't know where it came from. I didn't mean to scare ya." Mark fixed his stare on the rock, his head bowed.
"It's ok Mark. I feel it too. I've had a little more time to get used to it by now. You're just putting words on what's been going on with us since the day I got here. It doesn't scare the shit outta me as much as it did. I keep thinking about what you said on Tuesday morning. You know, about trying to be cool and holding it all in - and missing something real important." Shawn reached out to lift Mark's chin. "You're real important to me, Mark. Important enough that I don't wanna blow it."
"You couldn't ever blow it Shawn. Not with me, you couldn't." He paused "At least not on the first date. I'm a fuckin' Catholic girl."
The twinkle was back in Mark's eyes. Shawn found himself immersed in a deep blue mountain pond again. Only this one reached out to envelop him with warmth. As they lay on their sides opposite one another, their faces, weary of the effort it took to keep themselves apart, blended into each other as their lips met.
Shawn's husky voice broke the silence "Please touch my face again."
Mark reached out again with his finger and began to trace. This time Shawn returned the favor catching his breath in awe as he felt his buddy's strength and beauty for the first time.
They lay there for awhile allowing their hands to explore each other.
Finally Shawn resorted to words again: "So that's what's it's like to touch another guy. I never suspected that it could be this good."
Mark responded with a poetic "Ditto".
Shawn, seeing the glint of humor in his eye, allowed a wolfish grin to spread across his face. "Ditto? All you can add is, Ditto? Dude, you are a fucking barbarian, you know that?"
"You never told me you wanted Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Josephine."
Sensing that the return of playfulness had lightened the mood for the moment, they helped each other up to retrieve their clothing. "Don't know why we need these," Shawn said as they dressed. "It's so fucking hot, I'd just as soon keep on going bareassed. All this fur is enough to wear."
"Wouldn't that be an educational sight for a family of hikers. Besides, my exhibitionist buddy, you'd be happy until the first time your toe or maybe something more ...ahem.... delicate got scraped"
"That an offer?"
"I have a headache, dear."
"Fuck you!"
"Can't. I'm Catholic, remember?"
As the slope got steeper, trees and earth gave way to bare rock. Walking turned into climbing and they had to look for toe and hand holds to continue. Sweat from both the heat and exertion soaked through their clothing. Even though it was late in the season, the day was warm enough that Mark took the time to check every ledge for a coiled occupant before using it.
By the time they reached the first peak, Pamola, a wind had come up. Water from their clothing evaporated taking body heat with it. Mark noticed that the sun was lower in the sky than he had planned at this stage of their hike. He figured they still had a margin of safety before they ran out of daylight so he kept his worry to himself. Right now, the cool air was only an annoyance and didn't present any real danger. So they headed out for Knife Edge.
The name was appropriate. The path along the ridge narrowed to only a few feet and was paved with loose slabs of rock. The kicker was the drop of several thousand feet on either side. Mark's first warning that something was wrong came when he looked back and saw his friend down on all fours hugging the rock. He wasn't moving.
"Shawn, how they hangin, buddy?"
"Scared. I can't move."
Mark could see his buddy start to hyperventilate. In his position that presented a problem. He couldn't afford to pass out, he might roll off sideways. Mark carefully retraced his steps until he stood over Shawn. He put his hand out.
"Don't touch me! I'm gonna fall!" Shawn was close to losing it.
Mark spoke in a low gentle voice as if he were soothing a child after a nightmare. "Take it easy Shawn, it's me, Mark, your buddy. I won't let that happen. I fuckin' love you man and I'm not gonna to lose you. Now put one hand in front of the other, I'll move with you. I promise to take it real slow."
Shawn's chattering lips managed to squeeze out "Mark, I'm so f-f-f-f-fuckin scared!" when he suddenly felt warmth. Mark was kneeling in front of him and blocking the wind with his body. Then he felt a finger gently tracing the contours of his face and he knew it was gonna be ok.
It took them two and a half hours to get across, but Mark wouldn't give up and Shawn let himself be led. When they finally got to a place where they could stand in safety, it was Mark who broke down. He hugged his buddy so tightly that Shawn feared for his ribs. Then Mark began stroking his head and chanting in a disconnected almost sing-song voice. "I almost lost you. I almost fuckin lost you. Not again. You can't take him away from me." He couldn't seem to get hold of himself. This time it was Shawn who took the role of comforter. He kept repeating "Mark I'm here, I won't go away." Slowly, Shawn saw the light of recognition return to Mark's eyes. They held one another now with tenderness and with relief and let the last of their fears drain away.
It was Mark who broke the embrace and said, "Buddy I wanna hold you like this forever, but we gotta hustle. We don't have enough heavy clothing for a night on the mountain. We gotta get below treeline before it gets dark. After that there's a couple lean-to's the park service set up. They're a lifesaver for people dumb enough to get caught out here at night - that's me and that's you. Means we won't have to hike all the way back to the car."
They signed the logbook at the northernmost end of the Appalachian Trail and headed down Cathedral.
Shawn's body expected going down the mountain to be easier than climbing up. He cursed himself for all the times he took the elevator down at work instead of the stairs. His quads were not accustomed to the constant load the slope put on them. The way down turned out to be tougher than the way up. His energy was almost spent and it was getting colder. That's when he heard Mark shout back, "only a little bit more buddy, we're just about there".
They had stumbled around in the trees and scrub for a few hundred yards before they came to a piece of ground level enough to stand comfortably. For thousands of years the forest had been taming this part of the mountain. They stood for a moment rubbing their hands quickly over their extremities increasing blood flow in the area, translating motion into heat.
Sensing that they were out of the worst of the danger, Shawn took the opportunity to deal with something that had been puzzling him on the way down. "Man, you had me real scared up there after you saved my sorry ass. It was like you couldn't see me right in front of you. What happened?"
"Buddy, I owe you an answer to that one. It's my turn to lean on you for a little. But it's a long story so let's walk while we talk. I wanna find that lean-to before it gets pitch black. We're not outta the woods yet." The last was said with his trademark "Rusty Jones" grin.
"I'm all ears" said Shawn turning to follow.
"That's not what I saw this afternoon!"
"Quit stallin' and spill it already."
"See. I told ya you wouldn't respect me in the morning."
Shawn knew that Mark would keep going until he got the last word, so he swallowed a response.
For the next half hour, Mark poured out the story of the fall from his private Eden, the hole that it left inside, his period of isolation, his subsequent return to civilization, and his grim determination to make a life. When he ran down, they walked in silence for awhile and Shawn thought his friend had finished. But Mark began speaking again, this time more softly, not as sure of the words.
"Ever since Toby died, I've been looking for him. I was afraid that if I gave up, he'd be lost forever. So I kept him alive inside. During the last couple years I realized the cost of providing that life-support system for my son. It was feeding on me. I've been trying to let go piece by piece. Being with you up there gave me the final push I need to let go."
"Why me?"
"Two words, I expect, both of us have used before. Why you? Because you made me realize that I am not looking for a son I lost any more. I'm not the kid I was when that happened. When I refused to walk away from life, I started to grow up. I've come of age. I'm really a man now, not just a hairy slab of walking testosterone. At the pond, after I let the way I feel about you slip out, we worked together to throw off the load of shame we had both inherited. You did that by being you, by making my love for you seem so natural that even a dummy like me could accept it. The first night I touched you I began to suspect that it was not a phantom son that I needed in my life, it was a flesh and blood companion. You showed me that an equal partner could accept my need to make a safe place for the people I love. Up on that mountain you also showed me that I could allow another person inside again to do the same for me. That's when I came back."
Mark was silent for a few moments. Then he stopped them both and said to Shawn: "If you'll excuse me for just a minute, there's something I need to say out loud. It's a benediction and goodbye all rolled up into one. Here goes:
"Toby, wherever you are now, your daddy loves you very much. I always will. I know that I can't keep you as my little boy any longer. I never really could. I love you Toby - you're free. ....... There."
At that moment Shawn was touched by the young boy's thrill of wild freedom on that last day of school before endless summer.
It was probably my imagination, but somehow Mark stood straighter and shed a few years by the time it was over. I held his hand as we walked until we found the lean-to. I felt like an acolyte following a shaman through his sacred forest. Upon arrival we set up camp and built a fire. We had enough food left for a small celebration. When the meal was over, both of us were satisfied. At least as far as food was concerned.
Ever since I held Mark on top of the mountain, a flame had been building inside me. We knew what we both wanted when we crawled into the lean-to to get out of the wind. We unlaced our boots, stripped off our clothes and rolled up together in the blanket Mark had packed for just this kind of unexpected emergency. We moved together for protection from the night and cold and shared the warmth that we had nurtured since our first meeting.
He began by tracing his finger on my face once again. Like a mantra, it brought us back to the point at which we left off beside the pond. I felt desire whipping our innocence and curiosity into an intoxicating brew. Both of us formed the same thought as our mouths circled into an O: "So this is the forbidden fruit."
I ran my hand along the folds of his hood and felt his head stiffen inside. My hand became slick and slippery with his precum. Mark husked "Feels real good, buddy."
He encased my rod in a furry sheath, insistently squeezing while he spread the stuff oozing from my slit around with his thumb. I slid back and forth inside his hand, wildly excited by the feeling of a workingman's calluses moving over my head. When I felt the pleasure rise higher in my dick, I whispered "I want you bad, buddy". I received a cross between a purr and a growl in response.
We stayed like that for a long time letting our tides rise and fall with the waxing of the moon. The raw scent of our rutting mixed with the damp musk of a chilly October night. We were two big curious furry animals playing with each other. We were two buddies each with a wild hunger to become a part of the other. As solitary males, we were no strangers to the ways of making ourselves feel good. What we were just beginning to realize was the unimaginable power the same things had between two guys who had just trusted each other with their lives.
We couldn't get enough of each other. We measured one against the other. We felt identical thrills of pleasure rubbing across the bundle of nerve and skin right under our heads. I satisfied my curiosity by sliding his wet foreskin up and down to get the feel of it. He peeled my skin partway back and slid my slippery head inside his, rubbing our heads together in our warm wet sheaths. Throughout it all the feeling between us was a combination of raw lust and deep affection.
As we neared release, the intensity of our communication was belied by our outward calm. Our tongues embraced as I prepared to abandon everything to this man and felt him do the same. As our lifesource flowed together to build a brotherhood stronger than blood, we didn't know which of us it was that cried out.
We held one another for a long while and then we slept.
I woke up feeling his hardness against me and my body rapidly responding.
"Slut" I grinned at him.
"And this is a poster for virginity?" he said grabbing my now fully hard dick. He continued: "I know where I want to see junior here" and turned so that I faced his backside.
"Junior's afraid of the dark without a jacket."
"I may have neglected to inform you that I was once a boy scout."
He pulled his shorts over and reached into their pocket. His hand reappeared holding a condom packet. He ripped it open, retrieved the contents and said "Allow me" while unrolling it over my dick.
"Fuckin' tragedy to cover him up. As soon as it gets light, which should be very soon, I want to see everything."
"I'm trapped on a mountain with a horn-dog", I howled. Then, more gently: "Are you sure you want this? It's probably gonna hurt one hell of a lot."
"I want to feel you inside me. After what we've both been through, I'm not gonna back off because of a little physical pain."
I had to agree. I suggested he try sitting on me. He'd be in control and I could look up at his face. The condom was pre-lubed and he applied more to himself as he started moving down on me.
I didn't know what to expect, but I was totally unprepared for the effect that tight furnace had when it started to slide over me. I looked up and saw him wince as he stopped.
"We don't have to do this now" I said preparing to withdraw.
"No, stay where you are. I want this."
He gave another push and my mushroom popped through his ring. When we stopped to let him get accustomed to me, I began to feel the heat churning in my gut. I was becoming a part of my buddy, the one who led me to safety, the one who had shared all his secret places with me during the night. It was difficult to describe all the feelings, but I knew I had found home. When I looked up he was smiling down and had started to lower himself again.
He slowly took all of me and then started moving in the other direction. I don't remember ever having been harder. My helmet was about to split its skin. The graphite rods running underneath my head on either side of my cum tube were sliding against the warmth of his insides holding me on the edge of detonation.
When my mushroom got to his prostate again he asked me to hold it there and flex. When I complied he was up again all hard and leaking. My dick obeying my heart wanted no distance between us at all. I sat up and sandwiched his dick between us. We watched his head trapped and frothing, sliding in and out of its skin as I moved inside him. We stayed that way rocking, slipping back and forth in millimeters, my head pressing on his prostate, poised on the edge for what seemed like forever. I felt the part of me that gave me the most pleasure rubbing against the part inside that did the same for him. I have never felt so much a physical part of another human being. I stared into him stripped of all defenses allowing him to see the unprotected pleasure and longing in my eyes.
We climbed closer and closer until finally, no longer able to constrain its joy, the stuff of life leapt out to greet the dawn.