Bagboy-Ch4 Normal cautions & precautions: This story portrays affection, love and sex between consenting adult men. If that bothers you or you have been taught to hate it, leave NOW.
Sorry it's been so long since the last chapter. Lots of ideas, memories, and stuff; but time to move on.
The Bagboy
Chapter 4
by Bob Nelson
Mmmm. Hmmm? Oh, the phone. "Hello? Oh, hi Greg! What a nice surprise! You've never called me before. What's up? Gee, 7 AM on Saturday! Is anything wrong?"
"Hi, Bob. No, nothing's wrong, in fact, everything seems really fine, now. Are you busy or have plans for today? It's been so long since I've seen you. I mean it seems like a long time. I'd like to spend the day with you, away from everyone and every thing."
"Yes, it has seemed like a couple of months, though it's only been two weeks. I had that seminar in D.C. I had to go to, then you had to study for finals. Are all your finals over?"
"Yep, had the last one yesterday -- my hardest one, in Geopolitics, comparing economies and future growth/interaction of Europe, America and the Pacific Rim countries."
"Good grief, that sounds really comprehensive. Tough final?"
"Really hard, but I'd studied my butt off, and was able to answer something on every question. One page of matching terms to countries, then all the rest were essay questions. That's why I want us to just take off up to the Blue Ridge Parkway."
"Great idea! I don't HAVE to do anything over the weekend. I'd enjoy spending it with you! Especially up there. When will you be here, what can I bring, and will we be staying overnight, maybe?"
"I have the food and a cooler with water bottles, soft drinks, juice and fresh veggies, plus a few things I made for us to take. Just bring some hiking boots, shorts and a T, a pair of Levi's and a light jacket for night, and your toothbrush. No razor needed --- I like you with a day's stubble."
"Well, well, well! You sound like you are ready to rock and roll! I'll hop in and out of the shower and be ready in 15 minutes. Can't wait to see you, Greg."
Mmmm, I DO like looking at Greg - - the perfect "boy next door, 10 years later." We're the same height, six feet, and both have hazel eyes which turn green when we're sexually aroused. The more we're UP, the greener our eyes! But Greg's 26 and I'm twice that. He seems more mature while I feel younger than my age. He's got brown wavy hair with red highlights when the sun's behind him. Auburn, really. He keeps it pretty short to keep it out of his eyes. He works long hours as stock boy and bagboy: 9 to 11 hour shifts four nights a week to help support himself at Liberty U. Doesn't need as much cash for college as some guys, since he's living with his folks. We've both been married, but he seems to have found and accepted his "alternate orientation" sooner than I did. His open expression, clear and flawless skin, auburn eyebrows and long, black eyelashes make him almost movie star handsome, but he has NO attitude of conceit or self importance. Rather deep and quiet, but with sparkles of humor. He loves puns, jokes, romantic movies and songs, but is totally masculine. The more I get to know him the more there is to know. SO nice to get to know a complex, interesting, likable, romantic guy who seems to like me, too.
I've never heard him so eager to see me or to do something with me as he did just now, though. It sounds like he's lost some of his reserve and caution. This could be a real fun weekend! I hurried through the shower, brushed my teeth, grabbed the few things he'd suggested, then added my trade mark healthy granola bars. Sixteen should do, eight crunchy oats and eight fruit or berry. Oh, and my camera. There.... and there's the doorbell.
I opened it and said "Hi, handsome! Let me look at you -- it's been way too long. Now come in here and let me hug you."
Greg stepped into my apartment and flowed into my arms. We were a perfect fit, both the same height but he was a little lighter and a lot tighter. Wrestling all those crates and cases around at the supermarket every shift had him in prime shape. Broad shoulders tapering down to a narrow waist. Glad I'd kept up my workouts and swims at the Y.
"Mmmm, YEAH! You DO give good hugs! You smell good and feel good, too."
"You do, too, Bob. It's been way too long. I've missed you."
{Well, this IS a new Greg. Assertive, yet still shy, but able to tell me how he's feeling. It will indeed be a memorable weekend. But I'm not going to plan, predict or dream of what might happen. Just let it happen}
"Thanks, Greg, and it's sure nice to hear you say that. I've missed you a lot, and wanted to call a dozen times. Even had your number half dialed twice, but you'd told me how this may be your most important semester, setting you up for advanced courses next year."
"Right. Thanks for giving me the time and space to really crack those books, but THIS weekend is OURS, with NO books, no papers to write, nothing except us -- "In the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia, on the trail of the lonesome pine."
I grinned from ear to ear, as this handsome stud serenaded me while we hugged... but I felt like something was coming between us... in fact TWO somethings were. I felt his cock rising and poking my thigh as mine was doing to him. Damn, I'd missed him! I guess he'd missed me, too.
"Miss me, Bob?"
"How do you do that? Almost every time we're together you read my mind and say the words that I just thought. YES, I've missed you a lot! And what was the second thing I thought?"
"You wondered if I missed you, too?"
"Right on!"
"Well, we're both as hard as we've ever been, and I feel some leakage from my cock. How about yours?"
"Mine, too! Want to take care of the first load before we hit the road?"
"No, let's get up there while it's still cool. I have a special spot I want to show you, and it's a way in from the parking area."
"Okay, Greg. I'll wait, though it will be hard to."
He grinned at the pun which described us both, grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the door.
"Wait. I have to get the stuff I'm bringing."
"May I help?"
"Yeah, grab that little cooler and the canvas tote sack. I'll bring my backpack and camera."
"Got it. Let's go."
His Subaru Brat was parked right in front. We tossed the stuff in back, between the open-air seats and got in. He backed out, gunned it a little, and we were off... off on a beautiful May morning, sun shining, temperature warming up, blue sky with a few puffy white cumuli. Fair weather clouds. This was SO nice... a stud guy taking me off for a mountain adventure! Little did I know how true those words would become.
We headed up 29 out of Lynchburg to Amherst, then took 60 over to the Blue Ridge Parkway. We had talked about coming up here some time and now was perfect. It was always too crowded during early Spring and late Fall. Spring blossoms and Fall leaves brought hundreds down from the D.C. area and even from New York and New Jersey. The Appalachians are older than the Sierras I'd grown up near, but pretty in a softer way. I lay back and just enjoyed the scenery. I even looked at some of the scenery outside the Brat, though Greg was easier to look at than anything outside. His hair was long enough to flip around his forehead but its slight waviness kept it from just flying around like mine does. Mine's fine and straight. I was glad he'd gotten the Brat with a soft top. Fresh air and sunlight brought out his best features. Well, not ALL of them. He had his shorts on. The sunshine today did accentuate his good looks.
"Do you have a plan, other than the one special spot?"
"Yes, I have a plan - or rather I have plans. We'll start on the Parkway at a couple of lookouts, then I'm going to take you down the other side a ways to the special spot. I think you'll like it."
"I know I'll like it, Greg. Do you have any idea what a rush it was to hear your voice this morning, to hear you say you wanted to take me off for a day or maybe the whole weekend? I'm sitting here feeling warm and loose and tingly. Do you know what I mean? Make any sense?"
"Makes perfect sense, Bob. You are feeling special and wanted, because you are. I have thought a lot about us these past two weeks, whenever I took a study break. I'd been pretty passive in all the things we've done so far, but you've really made ME feel warm, tingly, loose and then hard. You've made me feel very special, and today I want to make you feel close, warm, and cherished."
{WOW! I'd never heard Greg say anything like this before! I'd been attracted to him for his clean, open and handsome looks, his pleasant personality and charm, then had come to realize the really deep and solid person inside. He had character and was very comfortable about himself, though reserved -- that was it. Yet today he was loose and happy as a 16 year old. What a great combination! I'd always been attracted to those contrasting characteristics and here they were, combined in one handsome guy who had "kidnapped" me for the weekend!}
As we climbed up to 1500 feet the air cooled a bit, but it also seemed clearer. The colors of the new leaves, the last few blossoms and the rich brown earth contrasted so nicely with the sky and clouds. Twisty two-lane blacktop, recently repaved, and very little traffic. A perfect morning! He handled the little machine with panache, swinging it smoothly around the curves, completely in control. The rhythmic swing from a left curve into a right one, repeated almost continually was both soothing and arousing. This young man was definitely doing something to me; something I liked more each minute.
"Here we are at one of the Parkway entrances. I'm going to turn north. I think you told me you'd been to the Peaks of Otter, south of here?"
"Yes, I went there with a really nice lady I met shortly after I got to Lynchburg. She was the first one here that I told I was gay. She's been very supportive. Says she's on a spiritual journey, and it really shows. She said she takes a retreat weekend every Spring or Fall on the Parkway. We climbed the Peaks, an easy climb."
"Nice! Glad you got to do that...... Oh, look over there, Bob."
I looked where he was pointing, through a break in the trees. It was a patch of unspoiled wilderness with no signs of man or civilization. It must have looked like this to the early pioneers when they struggled to get the wagons up to and through the Cumberland Gap. Probably two weeks to get as far as we'd come in two hours! "That's awesome, Greg! Thanks for bringing me."
He looked over and smiled the warmest smile I'd ever seen from him -- not sexy, not lust, not a social smile. Just letting his warmth and depth show through. Wait a minute... I'd told myself after the first three times I'd seen him - and had sex with him - that I was not going to fall in love with this guy. We had too many things that didn't match, couldn't work, would come between us.... but seeing this new side of him today was giving me a fluttery feeling inside that I'd known well but had almost given up on ever feeling again. About then Greg pulled into an Overlook facing west.
"Here's the first of many spots I wanted to share with you. Let's get out and climb over the retaining wall. It'll give us a view with no man-made stuff to detract from the original scene."
"There you go again, Greg! I was just mulling over the struggle it must have been for the first pioneers who got their wagons up and over these mountains when there were only a few trails. Was the Cumberland Gap the first way West?"
"That's what I've heard, and I think Daniel Boone discovered it and led the first settlers through, to the West."
He sounded like he'd capitalized the W in West, the same way I always think of our country's expansion into "the Wild West." It surely didn't look wild, today, just unspoiled green, rounded hills and gentle valleys, a glint off a river in the far distance. We could see it with no indication of "Progress" which too often meant taming and destroying nature. We both breathed deeply of the fresh mountain air which had a tinge of spice, almost like sage.
"What is that faint aroma, Greg? The spicy hint that's a little like sage?"
"I don't know, Bob. It may be a blend of several plants, the smell of compost, and other natural smells. It makes the air seem even fresher than if there were no smells, don't you think so?"
"Sure do. It reminds me of being a kid in the Bay Area, south of San Francisco, when there were miles and miles of orchards and still some dairies. One intersection off of Bayshore had a dairy and I used to breathe the "Haufenmist" aroma deeply as I passed there. I used that smell to know where to turn on the night I drove home from Sea Scouts when the fog was so thick I couldn't see my Model A's radiator cap. I had to open my door and look straight down to see the white line. Stupid to be driving, but I made it home -- at about 7 miles an hour!"
"Yeah, a smell can take me back to a memory faster than anything else. When I smell cinnamon it zips me back to my Grandma's warm kitchen on a winter morning when the smell of her hot, fresh cinnamon buns pulled me out of bed and into the kitchen."
"This smell is fainter, and so clean and fresh." I leaned closer to him and took a loud sniff. "There's a scent I like even better! THANKS for bringing me!"
He smiled, knowing what I meant and said, "You're welcome, but 'we ain't done nuttin', yet!' "
One more sweeping gaze at the peaceful little valley and we climbed back over the stone wall into the parking lot, clambered back into the Brat and were on our way up the next hill. Up and down, left and right, but now it was not hypnotic. I spent half my time looking at Greg and half looking at the scenery. I mean trees are trees, and bushes are bushes so they all start looking the same... but there was always a slight variation in Greg's face, his posture, his look. Here was a guy who really lived in the moment, enjoying it all. A real "Carpe diem" guy.
We stopped at several more parking areas, some for the view, some with a path up or out to a view, then about 11 AM Greg said "Well, we'd better get off the main road to get to our parking place. I want to get to the special spot before noon." In a mile, he turned off the Blue Ridge Parkway onto a little state road that wound its way west into a valley. We soon could see and hear a stream splashing along, then I saw it. Only a creek, but running fresh and clear. I wondered if it was drinkable.
"No, it's not potable. Too many jerks have been up here pissing into it, and too many cattle and other animals have fouled it. All the streams have filaria or other microscopic parasites in them, now. That's why I brought drinks. Want one?"
{He'd read my mind again! How did I find this guy? Who cares. We're on an adventure he planned for us.}
"Sure would, Greg. How about you? I can reach the cooler in back of the seat."
"I'll have a Coke, thanks. My one cup of coffee is gone and I need a little more caffeine."
"Me, too. One Coke or Coke clone for you, one for me. I'll open it after I put it in the foam snuggy. That way you can hold it between your legs without it chilling those smooth, strong, handsome thighs."
"Do you really think they're all of that?"
"Oh, yeah, Greg. Your work as a stocker has definitely put you in top shape for shoulders, arms, pecs, lats, thighs, calves and a great bubble butt."
"Oh, come on. It's not a bubble butt!"
"Well I think so, and I can hardly wait to get my hands on it! Is it much farther? 'Are we there, yet, Daddy?' "
Greg chuckled at the phrase. Guess we all asked that on trips when we were kids. My folks had hoped fervently that I'd have at least two or three kids who would ask it every mile of every trip, the way I seemed to.
"No, but it won't be much longer, now."
"Oh I HOPE it gets longer!" I said with an evil leer, looking him in the eyes then staring at his crotch. I saw it jump.
"Whoa, careful or you'll get me so distracted that I'll have to take matters in hand, or lose control of the Brat."
"Are you calling me a brat?" I teased, with a wide-eyed look.
"Well, no. Brats are littler. But we are within a couple of miles of where we'll park."
I settled back, sipping my Coke as I watched him, the twisty road, deepening valley, and the little creek. Peaceful Nature. Real Beauty!
Two miles farther, we turned into a rough dirt road and Greg slowed way down, put it in four wheel drive and slowly drove over one hill, then over one more. That was it. The "road" had run out, leaving us tucked into a little space 100 feet below the level of the hills but about 50 feet above the stream. Big old pines with a few oak, hickory, and cedars were scattered around us in an open forest pattern: enough big trees to shade the ground so the underbrush was minimal. We got out and stretched. I yawned so wide that it closed my eyes. Suddenly I felt Greg hug me and my eyes popped open to find him inches from my face. He grinned widely and moved slowly in... until his lips barely brushed mine, moving side to side in feathery, butterfly kisses. I'm glad I'd closed my mouth from the yawn! Oh, this was wonderful!! A Hot Stud takes me off into the wilds and has his way with me! I began to smile, which Greg could feel under his lips, following mine up at the corners.
"You betchum, Red Rider! I'm gonna rope, tie and brand ya! Well, maybe not yet. Let's get the picnic stuff and a blanket. Can you bring the cooler? No use leaving anything in sight in the Brat. No one should be along here, but you never know. We're still inside the area set aside in the 1920's by the Federal Government, when they created the Blue Ridge Parkway to preserve this beauty before it was 'civilized' to death. Too bad for the families who had been here for four or five generations. Other National Parks allowed original settlers' families to continue living there, if they'd keep up the practices of their ancestors: fishing, hunting, trapping just for their own needs, gardens and feed crops for their animals. Most would have been happy to stay on their family land here and carry on. Not many had expanded or modernized their original homesteads. Come on."
We'd been walking around the hill which had ended the "road" and getting deeper into real backwoods.
"Stop here, Bob. Now, I want you to close your eyes and put your hand on my shoulders. I'm going to lead you about fifty feet and I don't want you to open your eyes until I tell you to. The path is not rocky or too tilted and I'll be right here. OK?"
"Greg, I trust you completely. I finally feel I CAN trust someone again. I'll be happy to let you lead me, eyes shut. No, I'll shut MY eyes, but you'd better lead me with YOUR eyes open."
Greg chuckled at my word play, stepped in front of me, put my left hand on his right shoulder, and slowly started out. We went on and on. I never knew fifty feet could seem so long with your eyes shut. But it did to me, in this strange place. Finally Greg stopped and I could feel him turn toward me, which dropped my hand off his shoulder. He stepped behind me and turned my head to the direction he wanted me to look, then said, "OK, you can look, now."
I opened my eyes to a picture right out of early America. A log cabin sitting in a clearing, with a rude barn next to it, and a split rail fence enclosing about two acres. The house and barn were roofed with shakes," hand-split shingles, with one or two slightly askew. Both buildings still looked sound. The cabin's chimney was made of smooth oval rocks, obviously from a creek, mortared together with some rudimentary cement. There were even some flowers growing beside the front porch that looked like half wild volunteers from perennials planted long ago. It looked totally at peace, but lonely and deserted.
"It's -- it's fanTAStic, Greg! Thanks for bringing me here, and guiding me in to see it like this. How did you ever find it?"
"It was Grandpa's and Grandma's, up until the Relocation," he said with a touch of some deep feeling in his voice -- - - - bitterness? regret? or just sadness?
As though he were again reading my thoughts, Greg continued, "They were Dad's folks, and he was born here in 1920, just three years before the order to move, two more years before they forced us to move. He brought me here about fifteen years ago, but the memories were still too poignant for him. He said he'd never come back, and made me promise I'd never bring anyone here whom I couldn't trust completely to keep it as it is, out of sight, almost a shrine to his past. You're the first person I've ever brought here."
I turned with tears in my eyes as I heard his voice choke on the last part of that. He had tears about to spill over as he almost fearfully looked at me, hoping his trust was not misplaced. I opened my arms to him and he lunged forward, crushing me into the tightest embrace I'd ever had from him. He began to sob. I held my breath to keep him from cracking my ribs, and squeezed him back as hard as I could. Finally he eased his hug and I breathed again. I stroked his head and hair with one hand while holding him tight with the other arm. Gradually his sobbing slowed and stopped. He heaved a deep, shuddering sigh and released me. I felt him relax so completely that I held on so I could prevent him from falling. Or ease him down to the ground. I was afraid that it had been so emotionally overwhelming that he might collapse and hurt himself on the rocky path. Greg's eyes were closed but his breathing was returning to normal, and his pale cheeks were regaining their healthy tan. One more deep sigh and he opened his eyes. He looked embarrassed and glanced down.
"Greg, THANK you for bringing me here, and I can see just how much this place means to you and your Dad. I promise you on my sacred honor that I will NEVER tell anyone about this place nor lead anyone to it. It is yours, a trust to your family's history, turned over to you by your Dad. Let's seal my promise with a kiss...."
I leaned forward, looking into his still tear-filled eyes. Just a our lips met in a gentle, loving kiss, a shot rang out! I felt it before I heard it -- a burning PUNCH in my right side! Greg fell backward, pulling me down.
Well, hope it was worth the wait, and I promise to have chapter 5 up within a week. It's already written, but I need to proof it. Chapter 6 is in its second draft, too. If you have any comments, please send them to me, Bob Nelson at NailsB69@hotmail.com. I'll try to answer all, especially constructive criticism, but will ignore flames after replying with a 400KB file. Not spam, just a pic.