Making New Memories - Four
Thank you, Gentle Reader, for opening this story, a series about a man who confronts his past to find a new future. Dave, Jim, and the rest of the cast of characters are fictional, and do not represent any person living or dead. The story is fantasy and exists in that realm,
Elements in this story include sex between men, some racier elements might include some kinky sex, but for the most part just good old-fashioned cocksucking and fucking. If you enjoy this story, and others like it, please consider making a donation to keep the Nifty archive free and accessible! http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
The sun went down behind the hills and trees leaving a pink sky behind as a reminder of the beautiful day and a forecast for another just like it. "Red sky at night," I began
"... is a sailor's delight," Jim completed the rhyme. The voice was right behind my ear. While I had been lost in thought with the sunset, Jim had moved behind me. Now I could feel the heat from his body, and his lips were close to my ear. I shuddered. "You getting a chill?"
"It is a little chilly, and the mosquitoes are about to come out. Why don't we head on up to the house?" I suggested.
"Yeah, I guess I'll pick up my stuff and head home," Jim said, quietly.
All too quickly, I countered, "Um, I picked up some steaks this morning. How `bout I put them on the grill and you stay for supper?"
"How could I resist steak on the grill?" He smiled with his response.
We walked up to the kitchen and got started. I got the steaks out, Jim started washing veggies and cutting them up. "I thought we could grill these, too," he said, slicing thick wedges of onion, squash, and mushrooms and putting them on skewers. I turned on the oven and put the potatoes on the rack to bake and then we went out to the grill.
Jim set up the old grill. My dad had built the grill into the stone patio off the back of the house. It hadn't been used in a long time, and we first had to scrape it clean. In no time we had a nice bed of coals, and we put the steaks on. Laughing over beer and grilling our dinner, it was an easy evening. I reflected on how nice, and unexpected, it was to make a new friend. Living in San Francisco, I had come to expect that many of the men are gay, but here in northern Michigan, it's less common and much less expected. It was nice to have someone easygoing like Jim to pass the time and to stand with me in what had become a very emotional week.
"... seems a shame to leave this place," Jim was talking -- I had completely spaced out.
Coming back to the present, I confessed, "I am sorry, Jim, I was thinking about something else, and forgot I wasn't alone. What did you say?" I giggled nervously.
Jim laughed good-naturedly, "I was saying: This old place has been around for a long time, one of the older cottages left on the lake. The old ones get pulled down to build bigger and better ones, but the details get left behind, it'll be a shame to leave this place to some other family to build other memories."
I thought for a moment, and flipped the steaks and put on the skewers. Taking a long pull on my beer I replied, "Well, I know this is a beautiful place. I spent 17 summers up here, and all of `em were good except the last one, but I have lost touch with the good memories. Still, it does feel good to be up here again. It is time to turn this place over to another family, though. My time here is done," I added a note of finality.
"I dunno," he took a step closer, "this old place might still have a few surprises yet." He put his hands gently on my shoulders and closed the distance behind me. I could feel the warmth of his belly pressed into my back.
I relaxed into his touch and reached up to caress his hand, letting him know that it was ok to do what he was doing. Before getting lost in the moment however, I removed the meat and the veggies from the grill and put them on the plate, then I relaxed even more into Jim.
"It feels nice to be close, Jim," I stated. I turned to face him, and took a half step back to give our bellies room. Jim kept one hand on my shoulder and with the other he touched my cheek just above my beard, stroking my face with the back of his hand. I leaned into his hand, and he nudged my head up so that our eyes met. They were dancing with wonder, the steel grey piercing and calming at the same time. He licked his lips and I could smell the spice of tobacco in his beard and on his breath. I flashed him a smile, and without waiting another moment, closed the distance between us and kissed him.
I felt his neck and body tense a little as if he hadn't quite expected this, but he immediately relaxed. He kissed me back. His lips were surprisingly soft, and his beard tickled my lip. I smiled and opened my mouth some to meet his lips. I held his face in my hands, and pulled him even closer into me, deepening our kiss as it heated up.
It had been a long time, a very long time since I had been kissed like this. Gay men in San Francisco have lost the art of romance, of exploration. It's all about conquest and confidence. This was a kiss that was at the same time insistent as it was tentative; shy as it was bold. This was an amazing and fully engaging kiss. I pressed into him, my entire body pressed against his and he responded.
Ending the kiss was like stepping off a moving merry-go-round. My body was still traveling, but the motion had stopped. I pulled back my head just a fraction of an inch. We both exhaled at the same time, a lusty sigh. "That almost makes the steak irrelevant, Jim. A few kisses like that, and I feel like a real man!" I laughed.
He laughed, his grey eyes merry with this smile. "Speaking of red meat, how `bout we eat while it's hot, and see what the rest of the night brings."
I set a quick table while he pulled the potatoes out of the oven and seasoned the meat and veggies. I opened the wine, and in just a few moments we were seated at the table. He held up his glass. "To the best kiss I've had in years," he moved his glass towards mine in a clink. I must have given him a funny look because he asked "why that funny face?"
"Well," I confessed, "I was thinking the same thing while you kissed me. That's the best I've had in a very long time."
"Yeah, right, Mr. San Francisco," he scoffed.
I moved my hand to meet his on the top of the table. "No, it's true," I said, meeting his eyes. The moment passed, and we eased into small talk.
"What do you do up here in the winter? When the summer folks leave, is there much work?" I asked, genuinely interested.
"There isn't much work in the winter. I make my money during the summer, and spend the winter eating ramen and plowing driveways. I do some work on boats over the winter that people leave for me, and I check in on many of the cottages around this side of the lake to make sure that pipes aren't bursting when we have a real cold snap, but in general there is not a whole lot of work in the wintertime." He added, "it's pretty quiet around here, and since I am not much of a skier, I don't get out much."
The rest of the meal was pleasant. I was surprised: there was definitely sexual energy -- it hung over the table and wrapped itself around our bodies -- but there was also a gentleness to the evening. Our conversation was easy, our laughs were genuine, our smiles were sincere. The steaks were great! We pushed back from the table and let our food digest for a moment. Jim pulled out a cigarette and crumpled the spent pack. Noticing the ashtray on the table he said "that's a new addition."
"Figured it was better than you butting out in my nice coffee mugs," I pointed at the old chipped mug from which I was sipping my coffee.
He flicked ash into the glass ashtray, "Maybe you just wanted to make me feel at home," he said, exhaling a big plume of smoke toward the ceiling.
"You think what you like," I said with a smirk, as I picked up my plate to take it to the kitchen.
Returning to the table, I stood behind his chair and rubbed his neck and his shoulders. I was impressed with the strength of his upper body. This was a man who used his body in his work. I worked his neck with my hands: years ago I had dated a massage therapist who had taught me a lot about touch and muscles. Within a few minutes I got him to relax his head in my hands, and then I really set to work, propping his head against my belly, I rubbed his face and his forehead and right under his ears. He moaned in appreciation.
"Ok, take your head back," I warned, "I am going to work on your shoulders a bit, and don't want you to let your head snap forward." I rubbed his shoulders for a long time -- pivoting his arm forward and back, working the trapezius and loosening its grip on his shoulders. I thought about recommending some stretches, but really, I just wanted to enjoy this quiet moment. His breathing and mine.
From outside there was a low rumble of distant thunder. I realized that the wind had picked up too while we ate supper. "Hmm, so much for red sky at night, eh? Looks like we're getting a storm," I noted. "Let's take this wine and move out to the porch to watch the storm come in," I suggested.
We went outside. Already the air had cooled, and the wind smelled of rain. "I better run to the truck and roll up my windows!" Jim said, jogging off to the truck. He returned in a few moments with a new pack of Marlboros and two cigars. "Thought you might like to join me in a cigar?" He invited, holding one out to me.
I accepted and he pulled out his lighter and lit us both up. They were nice cigars, rich and bold, a nice complement to the cabernet. The rain started to fall, and within minutes it had whipped itself into a proper summer storm. We settled into our chairs, the wind occasionally blowing a bit of rain onto our bare legs, the smoke from our cigars swirling on the gusts before dissipating. We didn't say much -- an occasional remark about a loud thunderclap, instead we just enjoyed the power of the storm and the proximity of each other. I reached out my hand to hold Jim's and my hand felt warm inside his.
As the storm quieted down Jim stood up. Putting down his cigar, he held my face in his strong hands and kissed me gently, our lips meeting so softly. His tongue ran quickly over my lips, touching each corner, outlining them with his tender licks. His lips tasted so good -- the cigar left a spicy, tingly flavor. His hands were warm and rough on my bearded face, but felt comforting and soothing.
He pulled back and exhaled slowly. "Listen, I need to say something," he gave me an earnest look.
The butterflies in my stomach quickly turned to lead, as I felt my belly sink. Oh no,' I wondered, what is it going to be?' "Ye-yeah, sure, go for it," I said, hoping I didn't sound as crushed as I was feeling.
"I want this -- this kissing, this feeling, I want more, too. So, here's the little secret that no one knows, I am an old-fashioned guy. I haven't even had a real date with you yet, so as much as I wanna pull those shorts off you, I am going to resist." Each word was poignant and planned. He was thoughtful.
I released a lungful of air, not having realized that I had been holding my breath, expecting some darker revelation. He laughed, noticing the obvious relief on my face, and I broke into a smile.
"Well, I can respect that, I like it, even. What would you like to do about it?" I asked, issuing a playful challenge.
"I am playing at the Villager Pub in Charlevoix tomorrow night. I go on at 8, play two or three sets, and would have time to take you out for a beer afterward. Wanna be my date?" He winked at me.
"Woah, you play what?"
He laughed his response, "Yeah, I play with a bluegrass and country band a couple of weekends a month. I play banjo, and if you're lucky, you might even get to hear me sing."
"Do I get a backstage tour? Can I get a groupie t-shirt?" I giggled, then replied, "yeah, yes, I would like to come."
"Great. I have to practice and set up, but I'll be done with that by 6:30, we could grab a bite, then get you a table. I'll join up with you between sets," he was excited. "I think you'll have a good time."
He gathered up his stuff to go, and I walked with him to his truck. The rain had stopped, and it was a cool night. The rain had washed some of the humidity out of the air and now it was fresh and a little crisp. Good sleeping weather. He climbed into his truck and rolled down the window as he started it up.
I stuck my head in the open window. "Can I at least get a good night kiss?" He kissed me tenderly. It spoke of hunger and of potential. "See you tomorrow evening," I said as I backed out of his window.
Within 5 minutes I was standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom, my cock in my fist sliding my hand over my thick dick. Damn, that was one of the most erotic days I've had. My head was spinning, and all I could taste and smell and feel was Jim. With one hand I glided my palm over my belly and across my chest, rolling my nipple between my fingers and squeezing. I spit into my hand and worked the palm of my hand over the head of my dick. My body shuddered, I was so turned on! Thinking over that kiss on the porch, the thunder and the rain and Jim's taste. I wanted so much more, and yet I felt complete.
I came in great ropes against the mirror, splattering myself over the cold glass, looking back at a version of myself filled with lust. I slept soundly that night.
End Chapter Four
A first kiss, and the promise of a first date. Jim is an old soul, maybe he'll want more than Dave can give? Let's find out more in Chapter Five.