Wayward Island (Part 14) How Jake played Apollo and hosted a skating party By Jake Preston
Reader restrictions: no minors, no readers who are offended by explicit descriptions of gay sexuality. The story as a whole is a psychological study of gay athletic hunks who love nerds, and the nerds who love them in return. The story also deals with the problems faced by gay guys who live in rural areas. If these themes don't interest you, there are many other great "nifty" stories to choose from. Send comments and suggestions to jemtling@gmail.com. Jake will respond to all sincere correspondents.
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The charter meeting of ARCH Triangle was held on the first Wednesday evening in February. ARCH was our acronym for Ashawa-Range-Crane Lake-Hibbing. Red Hawk disclosed a natural artistic talent when he designed our logo: a royal blue triangle served as the frame for a rainbow of overlaid arcs in maroon, white, red, gold, and navy blue. He chose the school colors of high schools in Hibbing, Virginia, Ashawa, and Orr-Bluejackets, Blue Devils, Gophers, and Trojans. Ravitch taught Red Hawk the art of preparing stationery and flyers with our logo. The Triangle signified our geographical target: the Iron Range, the Res, and the Lake Country. It was also a sign of gay pride.
Mrs. Ravitch hosted the first meeting at her home in Hibbing. Billy White Cloud presided, because Mission Church, as our sponsor, gave ARCH Triangle an institutional legitimacy. The other "grown-ups" present were Peter Brave Heart (Red Hawk's father), Steve Waabooz, Tom, and me. No other church or school official was willing to support us. We used facebook, flyers, emails, and face-to- face contacts to invite charter members. ARCH Triangle was open to all teens who were gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgendered, or gay-friendly. Its mission was to serve the spiritual, cultural, and social needs of teens aged 13 through 19. That's what we advertised.
Our first meeting was a skull session. We sat with the teens in a circle and took turns introducing ourselves: Red Hawk; Kelly and Donna, a lesbian girl and her straight friend from Orr; two boys from Ashawa; three girls from Virginia. Two of Henry's hockey teammates, Drew Fox (a goalie) and Jim Savonen (a defensive player) identified themselves as straight friends of Henry. Next to them were Kevin Carlson and a shy boy named Jonathan, and two girls from Hibbing. The round robin ended with Henry, who was seated between Red Hawk and one of the Hibbing girls. "I'm Henry Hasek," he said. "I'm friends with Red Hawk and Kevin, but I'm hoping to get to know all everyone here." We brainstormed social and cultural events: skating in winter, swimming and water-skiing in summer, art shows and music concerts and dances at Wayward Island Resort. Steve Waabooz and Peter Brave Heart promised a visit with a Shaman, and a session in a sweat lodge on Crane Lake. Steve read a letter from Dark Eagle, who offered official support from the Shaman of Crane Lake.
Billy White Cloud distributed copies of two GLBT Constitutions that he had found on the internet. They were for GLBT clubs on college campuses, but they could be adapted to our group. "I've got homework for you," he said. "Pick the Constitution you think should serve as our model. Make a star (*) by each paragraph you think we should use. Mark it up with any changes you would want, and if you think something is missing, write new paragraphs in the margins, or on the back of the sheet. Mail your copies to me at Mission Church. I'll collate your contributions. At our next business meeting, we'll go over a draft." To make it easy, Billy passed out stamped envelopes with the Mission Church address.
"At the very least, we'll want to elect a President for this year," Billy continued. All the teens looked at Henry. They elected him by acclamation. Billy sat down, and Henry took over the meeting. "We'll need to elect a VP and a Secretary," Henry said. "We'll want the Secretary to write minutes for each meeting, beginning with this one."
"I have an idea about that," Mrs. Ravitch said. "I can set up a website for ARCH Triangle, with a click-on to archives for the minutes. That way we can 'go green'. I'll be available to help the Secretary, either in Hibbing or at Wayward Island."
Some of the teens said they wanted Red Hawk for VP. "I'm too close to Henry. It wouldn't feel right," he said. "How about Kelly, or Donna?" After some coaxing, Kelly said she was willing to serve, but she'd rather be Secretary, so she could work with Mrs. Ravitch. After that was settled, they voted for one of the boys from Ashawa, Keith Olson, for VP.
"For our next meeting, how about a skating party on Saturday afternoon at Jake's cabin, dinner included?" Henry said. Everyone agreed. We organized car pools for transportation. Mrs. Ravitch promised them ice-dancing lessons. I promised lessons in figure-skating. The girls were pleased. The guys groaned. Henry intervened: "After I met Jake, I took up figure-skating. It's improved my hockey game." This was true. He developed some unconventional turns on the ice that caught his opponents by surprise. The sports reporters hadn't a clue where this came from.
After the meeting we served soft drinks and coffee, and donuts from Helen White Dove's bakery. Because word had gotten around about our confrontation with Deputy Nelson, Henry was something of a celebrity. The teens pressed him to tell his version of the story, which differed from the gossip they heard in almost every detail. "I guess the debate about me coming out is moot," Henry told me later. "Looks like the Deputy did it for me."
The next day (Thursday), Roger Johnson picked me up at the cabin. He opened a backpack and showed me his toys: nipple-clamps on a chain, a vibrator, a butt plug, some anal beads, and the twelve-inch dildo. He held the dildo against my thigh, as if to measure it for size. "Don't worry, Jake, I've got a can of Crisco to make it easier," he laughed. We drove to the lodge. During the trek through snow to Mrs. Ravitch's studio, Roger asked if I was nervous.
"Hell, yes!" I said, "Like a virgin being led to some pagan sacrifice."
"I've got some peyote-chips in my backpack, if that'll help," Roger said.
"We'd better ask Mrs. Ravitch first," I said. "I wouldn't want to have to do this again, just because I screwed up the first time."
"Am I gonna have to get naked?" Roger asked. "I've never done that in front of a woman."
"Hell, yes!" I said.
"Gawwwd!" he exclaimed.
"Maybe you'll be needing the peyote-chips," I said.
Mrs. Ravitch had prepared the studio for work. "Apollo and Admetus" was in place on an easel. Paints and brushes were laid out on a table. A quilt was laid out on my posing-platform, covered with a white sheet. A bright photography lamp lit the scene. "Are you boys ready to get to work, or do you need time to warm up to it?" Mrs. Ravitch asked.
"Maybe a couple drinks first," I said. Mrs. Ravitch poured us each a whisky.
"I never drink when I'm working," she said. We sipped our whisky. Roger asked if we could use peyote. "I've never worked with peyote, but yes, we could try that, if it'll help you get into your roles." While we examined the painting, we chewed peyote-chips and downed them with whisky.
"It looks finished to me," Roger said.
"Here's the problem, Roger. It's supposed to be Apollo's first time. We're looking for agony. And we want Apollo's face to mirror Asclepius's expression when his chest is torn open by a lightning-bolt." She showed us some close-up sketches of my face in agony, and a painting based on one of the sketches. "These are just studies," she said. "They show Jake-as-Apollo in agony, but they're drawn from my imagination. Something is missing. It's not persuasive. It's like the spirit of Jake isn't in the sketches."
"You mean Two Spirits," Roger said. "Niizho-manitou: Double-Spirit; Two Spirits. That's what's missing, Anna: Jake's identity as our Shaman, Niizho- manitou. The Great Spirit Manitou speaks through him. He belongs to our world, and also to a spirit-world that is unknown to us. That's why the Ojibwe descended on Ashawa when he was in jail."
Mrs. Ravitch was astonished at the revelation, and pleased. "Jake is a complex man. I always knew that. But I had no idea.... And you, too, Roger!" She spoke of me in third person, as if Jake had been transformed into someone else. Was it Apollo? Or was it a Chippewa Shaman?
At the edge of the posing-platform, Roger laid out the tools of his newfound profession in the order that he would use them: nipple-clamps, vibrator, butt plug, the monster-dildo, a bottle of poppers, and last but not least, a small tin of Crisco. "It's not really Crisco," Roger said. "It's Crisco mixed with lube, a custom concoction." Our peyote-whisky cocktails started to make us giddy. "Don't worry, Anna, Jake won't be giddy when he feels this!" He held up the dildo and measured it to my thighs. "We have to work up to it. Otherwise he won't be able to take it. By the way, there's a forty-five minute waiting time for the peyote to do its thing. You'll know when we're ready."
Roger unbuttoned my shirt. "Give me a hand here, Anna," he said. They helped me out of my shirt and T-shirt, lovingly. Roger folded them carefully and placed them on the kitchen table. He stood facing me, embraced me and kissed my nipples. He pinched them hard. He fastened the nipple-clamps. He helped me out of my shoes and socks. He unbuckled my belt and unzipped my jeans. One on each side, Roger and Anna lowered my jeans. I stepped out of them. "I never get tired of looking at this beautiful man," Roger said while he lowered my jockey shorts. "Still wearing tidy whities, I see."
"Not anymore," I laughed as I kicked them across the room. Roger retrieved them, and folded them with my jeans and socks on the kitchen table. My cock was half-hard. Roger fondled it until it jutted toward my torso like an eight- inch prong. "Just like in the painting," Roger said while he fingered my pisshole. He captured a load of pre-cum and lubricated the sensitive skin below my glans. Lust came to me. Roger took my hand, and led me to the posing-platform. I got into place on my abdomen. Roger massaged my shoulders and back. He fondled my inner thighs and my ass. He kicked off his shoes and socks, and removed his shirt and T-shirt. He tossed them aside, neglecting the reverence that he had used for my clothes. He kept his pants on. I moaned at the touch bare skin when he lay over me and embraced me from behind. He nibbled on my ears and kissed my neck. "Don't say anything, Jake," he said. "Just concentrate on what you have to do." Mrs. Ravitch seemed radiant in peyote-colors. I felt myself sliding down the rabbit hole, down to the center of Waabooz, the ancient home of the tribe called Rabbit.
Roger inserted a finger coated with his custom concoction of Crisco-lube. He gave me two fingers. I parted my legs and arched my back. "Such a magnificent ass, such a sweet hole! Jake, you are beautiful!" Roger exclaimed. He pushed Crisco-lube past my sphincter in multiple two-finger applications. He lay over me and whispered in my ear, "Jake, do you trust me?"
"Mmmm hmmm," I replied.
We shared a kiss. Next thing I felt was the six-inch vibrator. I groaned. "Tighten your sphincter around it, Jake," Roger said. He turned on the vibrator. I experienced the vibrations as a dance of many colors. He rotated the vibrator, slowly. The colors of peyote danced around Mrs. Ravitch, who gazed on my face from the distance of another world.
Roger switched from the vibrator to the butt plug. It was only four inches, but wickedly wide at the base. He used it to pummel my sphincter. Peyote-colors returned when he rotated it.
Next he inserted a string of black anal beads. They were the size of large steelies. The first time, he stuffed my ass with six beads. I groaned when he pulled them out at an even pace. The second time, he worked me up to eight beads. "Fire for effect," I said when he beaded me a third time. "You've got a nice gap going, Jake," Roger said when he examined my ass.
Roger pressed his weight over my body. We shared a kiss. "Do you trust me, Jake Two Spirits?" he whispered.
"I feel your control," I said. That's what he needed to hear. I arched my back. He stuffed my ass with a fresh supply of Crisco-lube. The progress of the dildo was marked by the intensity of my groans, especially after it passed through my inner sphincter. My eyes were half-blinded by a profusion of sweat. I pounded the posing-platform with my fists. I concentrated my mind on peyote-colors, and managed the whole length of the dildo. I thought that Mrs. Ravitch had disappeared. In fact she was behind the easel, touching up Apollo's face in the painting. "This goddam thing wouldn't be so bad if it weren't so fuckin' thick," I said. I yowled when Roger rotated it. The slightest movement inside me felt like an earthquake. Mrs. Ravitch took a close-up photo of my agonized face when Roger rotated it a second time. She worked intently on the painting while Roger rotated it a third time.
"That's enough, Roger. We've got what we need," Mrs. Ravitch said. Roger was just as happy to stop as I was. Slowly and cautiously, he pulled the dildo out of me. I rolled over on my back, still panting, and welcomed the weight of Roger's body over me. My body was wet with perspiration. When I got up I felt wobbly, so Roger helped me to the shower. Back in the kitchen, he helped me get dressed while Mrs. Ravitch applied finishing touches to "Apollo and Admetus."
"It's a complex painting, and a masterpiece, but Anna, I sure hope it's finished," I laughed. Roger wrapped his toys in plastic bags and stashed them in his backpack.
"It's finished," Mrs. Ravitch said. "I'll want to compare the painting to the photo, but you won't have to do this again."
We relaxed with whiskies in the studio. Roger and I had planned to sleep in the studio's second bedroom. "I'm still feeling a bit traumatized," I said, and asked Mrs. Ravitch if she would spend the night in the studio, too.
"Sure, Jake," she said. "I'll be in the next room, so if you need anything, just let me know."
"Just knowing you're there is enough," I said. "Sometimes I need a mother."
"You boys did good, both of you!" Mrs. Ravitch said. She poured another round of whisky, and took some herself. "I've seen guys having sex before, but the intimacy and trust between you two was extraordinary."
Our conversation drifted to ARCH Triangle, the teens, Red Feather's plans for Oberlin, and Red Hawk's plan to attend college in Bemidji. "He'll be a sophomore when Henry starts as a freshman." We wondered if they would still be a couple. "They're young. It's hard to tell," I said. "But whatever happens, they'll always be friends."
That night in bed, I told Roger, "You sure have unusual ideas about what to do for foreplay! Man my ass is sore!"
"Let me kiss it and make it better," Roger said. He rimmed me in every position we could think of. The Crisco did its work. I told him to scratch the itch up my ass with his prick. The balsam-needles in the forest could be counted, but the number of stokes he applied to my itch could not be counted.
On Saturday morning, I prepared venison stew for the ARCH Triangle skating party. To tenderize the venison, it had to simmer on the stove all day. It's my best recipe, though it doesn't compare to the reindeer stew that my relatives gave me in Sweden. I was planning to make blueberry pie, but Red Hawk called to say that he would bring desserts from Helen White Dove's bakery. When the teens arrived they were welcomed by the aroma of venison, and visions of bakeries piled on the kitchen table.
Around noon, I got a phone call from a farmer in Ashawa, a Swede named Oscar Eliason. He had heard about a support group that had started up for gay teens. I braced myself for hostility, until Eliason said that this was a good thing I was doing. "I can't take the credit for that," I said. "It's the Mission Church in Crane Lake, and their pastor, Billy White Cloud, and the driving force is three or four of the teens."
"My son Victor is gay. He could use a group like this," Eliason said.
"How old is Victor?" I asked. "Fifteen."
"I'm hosting an ice skating party for the group today at three," I said. "The group is called ARCH Triangle. You should come, too, Mr. Eliason, just to ease your mind. Parents are welcome, as long as they don't interfere with the teens. We let them interaction on their own. Our job is to provide a safe environment."
"Vic is pretty shy," Eliason said. "I don't know if I can persuade him to join a group when he doesn't know anyone."
"How about if you bring him here about one o'clock," I said. Henry Hasek has been working in the woods this morning, but I'm expecting him here any minute. Vic can spend time with Henry. Once the party starts, he'll know someone."
"Henry Hasek?" Eliason asked. "Is that the hockey player in Hibbing?"
"Yeah, that's Henry. We're neighbors on Wayward Bay," I said.
Oscar Eliason showed up at 1:00 PM with his son Vic in tow. Henry trooped in from the woods about the same time, sweat-soaked and in need of a bath. Vic shyness was lessened by Ma'ingan's doggy-pawed greeting, and Henry's outgoing manner. The boys warmed up to each other. I didn't need to tell Henry that his job was to make Vic feel comfortable about joining ARCH Triangle. I dispatched the boys to fire the sauna. Vic admired Henry to the point of hero-worship, but nothing works better than nudity to equalize asymmetrical relationships.
Henry invited Vic to sauna with him. They changed into sweats in the bedroom and jogged to the lakeside sauna. They kept sauna protocol. I didn't have to be there to know what happened. When they soaped each other, Vic got his first chance to touch another man's body, and was touched in return by none other than Henry the hockey star! I watched from the window when they frolicked in snow, tossing loose handfuls at each other, not yet embracing, but coming close. Ma'ingan was there, too, romping around them in snow. Oscar Eliason was pleased to see his son happy and energized. When the time came for balsam- bough massage, Vic got his first chance to fondle another man's genitals and ass, and was fondled in return.
Eliason did not disapprove when we watched their scene from the window: Vic and Henry burst from the sauna holding hands, and rolled in snow in a long embrace. I could only imagine what transpired in the inner sanctum of the sauna, but knowing Henry, he introduced Vic to erotic touching and fondling. Their embrace in the snow seemed more intimate each time they emerged from the sauna. When they returned to the cabin, Vic was in high spirits, and comfortable with Henry. The boys got an early start on the ice. They cleared a skiff of snow from the rink, and enlarged its borders to make room for as many as twenty skaters. Ma'ingan supervised from the safety of snowbanks.
Our charter-meeting on Wednesday must have been a success, as all the teens showed up at my place with ice skates. Besides these, two other hockey teammates came from Hibbing: four self-identified "gay friendly" guys in all. They came to try figure-skating, but were secretly curious about ARCH Triangle.
We started the meeting with round-robin introductions, seated in a circle in front of the fireplace. Henry led off, and introduced Vic Eliason with compliments about his skating. He introduced his four teammates and thanked them for their moral support. He thanked Kelly, our Secretary, for preparing the minutes for our charter meeting, and announced that they were available on the ARCH Triangle website, thanks to Mrs. Ravitch. The teens introduced themselves and said something about their schools. Henry introduced the "grown-ups," and thanked us for our contributions to ARCH Triangle. He introduced Tom as the owner of Wayward Island Resort, and said that we were invited to hold a Valentine's Day dance at the lodge, with live music provided by Red Feather. Everyone applauded. "You should receive an email soon," he said. "Our draft constitution will be attached. Our Valentine's party will begin with a business meeting. We'll go over the constitution, and ratify it, so do your homework!
"We don't have an official constitution yet," Henry continued, "but when we have one, it will include a Social Committee and a Transportation Committee. The Social Committee will plan our events. Mrs. Ravitch has agreed to serve as advisor. The Transportation Committee will make sure that everyone in our club has a ride to all our events. Sam Black Bear has agreed to be our advisor for that. These are volunteer committees. I've left sign-up sheets on the kitchen table, so please sign up as you are able." Henry's courtesy and business-like maturity took my breath away. Mrs. Ravitch, too: "How old is this boy?" she whispered to me. "Sixteen going on twenty-nine," I said.
"One more thing, and then we'll skate," Henry said. "Our constitution will have a confidentiality clause. Every time we meet, we learn stuff about each other that must be respected as private. It's confidentiality on the honor-system. It's a personal discipline that we all need to learn. Nothing we know about our fellow members is grist for the gossip mill. What happens in ARCH Triangle stays in ARCH Triangle.
"We will never pressure each other to disclose secrets," Henry continued, "but if someone feels a need to share, we won't discourage that, and we'll never be judgmental. Remember, guys and gals, it's a discipline not to gossip, and not to judge others. Originally, ARCH Triangle was the brain-child of Red Hawk and Jake. It was their vision. They did it for my sake, at a time when I was feeling anxious about coming out. We're way past that now, since ARCH Triangle has attracted such a large group. I hope to become friends with all of you. Please don't anyone leave this evening without spending some time one-on-one with me." Red Hawk gestured at him. "That goes for Red Hawk, too," Henry said. "Make sure you spend time with each of us."
On the ice rink, Mrs. Ravitch collected the girls and taught them some dance moves. This time we had real music, thanks to a speaker-system on the dock, powered by an electrical outlet in the sauna, which we used as our skate- changing room. The boys gathered around me, Red Hawk, Red Feather, and Henry. We demonstrated figure-skating moves, and pointed out ways that these could be useful in hockey. "Jake is giving away my trade secrets," Henry said. "All in a good cause," I replied. The boys took turns borrowing the spare figure- skates that we had on hand. At intervals they speed-skated in hockey skates. Some of the boys paired up with girls in the skate-dancing.
"It's time for pump-pump-pull-away!" Henry announced. Earlier, we had sprayed a red line of dye to make a center-line in the ice. Henry and Red Hawk served as captains on opposing teams. When they took turns choosing teammates, they took care to alternate between weak skaters and strong ones. (It was obvious to me that they had planned this.) Henry's four gay-friendly teammates were split between opposing sides. As the last players chosen, Henry took Mrs. Ravitch, and Red Hawk took me. We took random turns crossing the red line into the opposing team's territory. Always audacious, Henry skated across the line further than anyone else. He got tagged soon enough, by one of the girls, and had to stand in the "prison," a snowbank on the far side of the rink, until one of our team could rescue him by tagging him. Prisoners collected on both sides, and were rescued, heroically, by daring teammates. The teens had so much fun that they lobbied for skating parties every weekend for the rest of the skating season.
The teens worked up powerful appetites on the ice. My venison stew, and Helen White Dove's pies and pastries, were quite a success. Billy White Cloud started dinner with a prayer. I announced that we had Red Feather to thank for the venison, and Red Hawk for desserts. After that we dug in, and socialized. Henry and Red Hawk made the rounds, making sure that they spoke one-on-one with each person.
"Henry is a natural leader," Mrs. Ravitch said to me, "but you're the Pied Piper. The fate of ARCH Triangle depends on you, at least for now." That may have been so, but collective success depends on individual members. As afternoon turned to evening, allegiances formed between couples and trios. Drew Fox, the goalie from Hibbing, seemed to be making time with Göran Svenson, a Scandinavian farmboy from Ashawa. If his teammates were gay-friendly, Drew was gay-friendlier. Vic was attentive to Henry, who didn't discourage the attachment. Kevin and Jonathan, the boys from Hibbing, overcame their accustomed shyness to form a trio with Red Hawk. Intuitively I knew they were up to something good. Mr. Eliason confirmed that, when he told me that Vic had asked his permission to spend the night. "He said that four other boys were planning an 'indoor camping trip' with sleeping bags in front of the fireplace. I thought I'd better check with you first, Jake," he said.
"Of course it's okay with me," I said. "Vic is welcome here anytime and you are, too." I pretended that I already knew about the sleepover. "Between you and me, Oscar, we don't want jealousies forming within the group, so let's keep quiet about the sleepover for now." A moment later, Red Hawk asked if Kevin and Jonathan could stay over. I said yes, but keep it quiet. Since Kevin and Jonathan had come with the hockey players, I figured that no else would know. These guys were gay-friendly, but wouldn't be offended about not being invited to a gay sleepover. Drew Fox departed with his teammates. Before he left, he exchanged phone numbers with Göran Svenson.
I had help from a crew of six to clear the kitchen after the party: Red Feather, Henry, Vic Eliason, Red Hawk, Kevin Carlson, and Jonathan Gabrielli (I finally learned his last name). Washing dishes was most of the work. The teens were considerate, and didn't leave much of a mess. I commissioned Red Hawk and his newfound Hibbing friends to fire the sauna and gather balsam-boughs. By the time dishes were put up, the sauna was ready. Red Feather and I stayed away, to let the boys play. They returned giddy and comfortable with each other.
We gathered around the fireplace. I studied our newfound friends. Vic Eliason was a slender blue-eyed blond, five-foot-eight and still growing. His face was boyishly handsome. Chores on the farm made him muscular. Jonathan Gabrielli's five-foot-six frame was still outgrowing baby-fat. His best features were curly locks of dark brown hair, and searching brown eyes that could melt a stout heart. A handsome face was starting to emerge. In three years' time, Jonathan will be irresistible. At five-foot-five, Kevin was the runt of the litter, but his blue-eyed twinkle, half-hidden in bangs of light-brown hair, gave him romantic appeal. Henry and Red Hawk seemed manly by comparison, even though they were (respectively) only one and two years older.
Red Feather and I felt like an old married couple. We retreated to the bedroom. Henry followed and asked, quietly, "Jake, is it okay if we bring out some whisky?" He was thinking of passing around a bottle of Jack Daniels.
"Well," I replied, "I shouldn't serve whisky to minors. I mustn't mention that I've got several bottles of Mcmyra, the very best scotch from Sweden. I'm unable to tell you that the Mcmyra is stashed at the back of the bottom shelf in the liquor cabinet. I will not disclose its hiding place behind the Jamieson and Jack Daniels. I cannot say that I probably won't notice if only one bottle goes missing. I won't tell you to use the best tumblers, the ones on the top shelf, because it goes without saying that Mcmyra requires a certain dignity. It would be out of place for me to advise you that a little Mcmyra in moderation makes a much better party than cheap booze in large quantities."
"Thanks, Jake," Henry said.
"And Henry, please tell the boys to keep themselves clean. Use the shower as often as you need."
"Sure, Jake," Henry said. Minutes later, he came back to the bedroom with tumblers of Mcmyra for me and Red Feather. We were already naked on the bed.
The fireplace frolic was unwitnessed by us, but we heard some of it, and Henry and Red Hawk filled us in on details. The boys laid out two sets of doubled-up sleeping bags. They sat in a circle for a game of strip poker in its simplest form: five-card draw. Jokes could be heard, and laughter, when Henry was the first to get naked. According to a rule they made up, Henry had to crawl around the circle while the others fondled his genitals. Vic took the liberty of running his fingers up and down the cleft of Henry's ass. The shyest boy in the room was the first to demonstrate the target of his erotic interest. So that's what it means when they say that the first shall be last, and more importantly, the last shall be first!
Red Hawk was next to strip and crawl the gauntlet. It was obvious to us, though not to the other boys, that Henry and Red Hawk were throwing their game. After them, the winning losers (or was it the losing winners?) were Vic, Kevin, and Jonathan. When they took their turns in the gauntlet-crawl, Vic got points for his muscular frame and an exceptionally cute bubble-butt. The runt of the litter, Kevin, got points for his almost-nine-inch dick, which seemed even larger in proportion to his slender body. Jonathan got points for a youthful crop of body- hair on his chest and in the cleft of his ass, signs of his predestined role as an Italian stallion. He secured even more points for his generous foreskin. More than a hood for his glans, it continued in a frontal flap, gathered at the tip like the loop of a gunny-sack.
As the only uncut guys in the room, Jonathan and Red Hawk were objects of curiosity, whose duty it was to share their anatomical treasures with others. Red Hawk proposed a docking ritual. To demonstrate, he knelt face-to-face with Jonathan and stretched his foreskin over Jonathan's glans. When Jonathan reciprocated, his loose-hanging foreskin covered a third of Red Hawk's shaft. Amazement came to the others, mingled with lust. Red Hawk and Jonathan knelt side by side. Laughter mingled with throat-tightened lust as Kevin, Vic, and Henry took turns getting docked by their hooded companions. Ma'ingan observed, recumbent, and flapped his tail against the sleeping bag, wondering what the fuss was all about. "It's a guy thing, Ma'ingan; you wouldn't understand," Henry said to the lab.
Henry commissioned Vic to add wood to the fire in the hearth. He returned to the sleeping bag to find Henry lying on his side with his butt arched in daring provocation. He twisted his upper torso, and glanced over his left shoulder, smiling slyly at Vic, who knelt at his side. Red Hawk, Jonathan, and Kevin were fooling around in a threesome, but they stopped to watch while Henry handed Vic the lube-tube and told him to prepare his butt for Vic's maiden voyage into the deep mystery of another man. "Henry is going to let Vic conquer his ass," Red Hawk said softly to his friends in the threesome. There was no laughter, just awed attention. The brief insertion of one lubed finger was not enough for Vic. He finger-fucked Henry, and added a second finger. Their spectators kept watch. They had an audience of four, counting Ma'ingan, but the dog was more interested in getting petted by Red Hawk, Jonathan, and Kevin.
Henry taught Vic the art of mutual fellatio in a 69 with Vic on top. While they sucked cock, he fingered Vic's ass, playfully. Vic forced his hands underneath Henry's cheeks in a frustrated effort to regain possession of Henry's asshole. Henry resisted Vic's manual manipulation. Vic was transfixed by the touch of Henry's tongue as it ran the course of his cleft and settled in his asshole. He stopped pawing at Henry's ass. Instead, he cradled Henry's scrotum. Still, the persistence of Vic did not go unrewarded. With a forceful push, Henry rolled over and flipped Vic with him, moving closer to the Red Hawk threesome. They got a better view of the action. Now it was Henry on top in the 69. Vic had free reign of his ass, and gazed with wonder at the intimate spectacle. He fingered Henry's cleft, and spread his cheeks apart to examine the eye of the coming storm. Lust came to him, mingled with admiration. The hero-worship that Vic felt toward Henry was in no way abated by the fact that his hero was surrendering his ass.
To reciprocate Henry's rimming, Vic ran his tongue along the cleft and into to the gate of his garden of love. "I think we should go all the way, Vic," Henry said. "Do you want me to fuck you? Or do you want to fuck me?"
"Oh yes, Henry, I want to fuck you," Vic said, and added, "You're the one who's already been lubed." They both laughed.
Henry lay on his back. He told Vic to prop his ass up with a pillow. Vic knelt between Henry's legs and forced them apart. He fingered the palpitating asshole and marveled at the sight of this varsity stud, now compliant, offering his body so freely. Henry rested his legs on Vic's shoulders. Lust flashed in Vic's eyes when he saw Henry's asshole. It palpitated in expectation of Vic. It was a reddish-brown star, nestled in strands of hair, positioned in a trajectory that lined up with his cock, which throbbed in its forward jutting. Vic aimed his cock to the target. Their eyes locked in sparks of mutual lust. Henry reached back and guided Vic's cock as his glans pushed past the sphincter. He gasped. Vic looked at him, resolute. He could no longer see the reddish-brown star, but he kept the memory of it, and knew it was there, because his cock was inside it. The emotions of a top came to him. Soon they would soar. Vic pushed his shaft into Henry, slow but steady. Henry yelped. The more he looked shocked like a captured cardinal, Vic looked determined. Henry groaned loudly when Vic penetrated him fully.
"Are you OK?" Vic asked softly.
"It hurts 'cause your cock is so big," Henry said.
Vic looked pleased with himself. He hadn't expected the thrill that comes with the conquest of another man's body.
"Don't worry 'bout me, Vic. I can take it like a man," Henry said.
Vic took Henry at his word. He thrust his cock deeply, as if to make sure that he gained possession of every inch of Henry's ass. "I want to make you mine, Henry," he said.
"Ah, you're so romantic for a guy with such a demanding dick," Henry chuckled.
Vic fucked forcefully, driven by the rhythms of his body, and by the thrill of conquest that rose in him with every thrust of his cock. Henry taught him to pause for long intervals. "That way you'll last longer, and I'll like it better, too," he told Vic. "Besides, it's more intimate if we can talk, and not just fuck like dogs." As Henry got used to Vic's cock inside him, his groans gave way to moans. Vic found a brand new pleasure: bringing joy to another man. Conquest was good, but giving pleasure was better.
Vic flipped Henry over and fucked from behind intercursally. During one of their long pauses, Henry told him, "I'm proud of you Vic, the way you're taking charge. You're the boss now. We'll do whatever you want.
Vic power-fucked Henry from behind. He experimented with punch- fucking: he drew his cock out completely, and watched while he thrust it all the way up Henry's ass. The first few times, Henry yelped and groaned, but he got used to it. During a pause in their action, Henry said, "We've got three spectators who wonder how we're doing. How're you doing, Vic?"
"I'm in paradise. I mean literally IN paradise," Vic said. "How 'bout you?"
"I'm in paradise with you," Henry said.
"Your ass IS paradise," Vic replied. "Henry," he whispered, "I want to be your top man."
Henry whispered back: "I'm up for that, if you don't mind sharing with Red Hawk."
"I think a wedding is taking place," Red Hawk said softly to Kevin and Jonathan. For them this was more than a lesson in anatomy.
Henry turned on his back so Vic could mission him again. "Before you get back inside, Vic," he said, "I've got a couple things to tell you. First, if you fuck real slow I can cum for you." Vic said he welcomed that. "Second, when we get to the finish line, you'll be breeding me. You should know that I want it, and I hope that you want it too."
"More than anything," Vic said.
"Let me suck your balls so I can think about all that sperm you'll be shooting up my ass," Henry said.
Vic straddled Henry's chest. He held his throbbing cock out of the way, and lowered his scrotum toward Henry's mouth. He licked the scrotum, and sucked one testicle into his mouth. He sucked in the second testicle. It was Henry's way of psyching himself up to a breeding, but it had a strong impact on Vic, too. Shooting sperm into Henry was not to be taken for granted. The desire for this was one of his responsibilities as a top. Another was to be grateful for the gift. He conquered Henry's ass, but Henry conquered his heart.
Henry's release came easy. Vic kept his cock on idle and frigged Henry's cock with a sensitive touch. No need for Henry to jack himself. The erotic spectacle, complemented by jizzy aroma, energized the lovers' fan club of three, who groped each other with tactile intimacies that would have been outrageous on earlier occasions. The masculine fragrance put Ma'ingan on alert, too. He wagged his tail briskly and was ready to pounce, but Red Hawk held him close, and diverted his attention by stroking his belly. Ma'ingan groaned a deep groan that always meant, "I know where I'm not welcome!" In typical lab-fashion, he turned his head away from Henry and Vic, his way of protesting whenever he was uninvited.
Ooze slid from skin to skin when Vic leaned forward to kiss Henry. After this tender moment, Vic's cock raged in Henry's anal canal. Perspiration dripped from his face and torso. He humped furiously. He pulled Henry's ass upward toward him. He pinched Henry's nips fiercely, and pinned his arms to the sleeping bag. He wrapped his arms around Henry's torso and forced him to arch his back while he thrust the full length of his cock into him. He grabbed Henry at the knees and forced his legs far apart. The conquering cock spread its wrath everywhere in Henry's body. Henry felt the telltale heat and expansion, followed by lubricious silkiness while Vic moaned and breathed deeply in his lover's ear. "Victor victorious," Henry whispered in his ear.
For a long time they lay together quietly while Red Hawk, Kevin, and Jonathan groped and wrestled, and experimented with bouts of fellatio. "We should get a shower," Henry said.
"I don't think I can walk yet," Vic said.
"I thought that was MY line," Henry retorted. Vic's countenance beamed with pride in his conquest. "You did good, Vic. I feel totally fucked over. We'll do this again, and soon."
"I always wondered what role I would play," Vic said when he and Henry soaped each other in the shower and shared a sudsy embrace.
"You haven't tried bottoming yet," Henry said. "Maybe you'll find out you like it." Vic seemed non-committal. "If you do get fucked, Vic, that won't turn you into a bottom. It's OK for a top man to flip."
"I'll do anything to be with you, Henry." Vic played the role of the top, but Henry was still the boss.
Henry and Vic returned from the shower to see Jonathan spraying seed into Red Hawk, doggie-style, while Red Hawk sucked on Kevin's supersized dick. "If Henry can take it once, I can take it twice," Red Hawk boasted. When Jonathan removed his dick wet with cum, Henry packed him off to the shower. Red Hawk rolled on his back and dared Kevin to mission him. Nine inches was more than enough. He yelped and groaned at Kevin's first penetration. Kevin was unsympathetic, but Red Hawk got used to it. Kevin gave Red Hawk a thorough drubbing as Nature took its course. The essence of Kevin oozed into Red Hawk. Red Hawk's cock went soft under the pressure of Kevin's fuck. He hadn't cum, but was twice content. Following the custom of the cabin, he led Kevin to the shower. Their sex was more athletic than romantic, but that didn't mean they made no emotional connection.
The guys regrouped by the fireplace: three ex-virgins plus Henry and Red Hawk. Vic stoked the fire with a new supply of wood. "Technically, you guys are still virgins," Red Hawk said. "You've all got your cherries intact. I think we should talk about that."
"I guess turn-about is fair play," Kevin said as he snuggled next to Red Hawk. "Do me now while we're still warmed up." Jonathan looked glum. He knew he would have to reciprocate, but was apprehensive. Vic said he was willing, but wanted to choose his own partner. He didn't say who he had in mind.
"You guys can fuck," Henry said to Jonathan and Red Hawk. "The rest of us need some sleep. We can pop cherries later." Henry and Vic crept into the sleeping bag, with Jonathan between them. They didn't sweep. They took turns fingering Jonathan's foreskin, and listened to inevitable howling when Red Hawk shoved his dick into Kevin's virgin ass. Red Hawk comforted him, but wouldn't retreat an inch, not until his penetration was complete. "Mission accomplished," Red Hawk said, an apt expression. Kevin whimpered. When fucking started in earnest, Kevin's groans were interrupted by moans. When he sat on Red Hawk's cock, facing him, it was just moans of pleasure. Red Hawk turned him on his side and fucked intercursally. A cry announced his release, and silken relief to Kevin.
Vic's enthusiasm for Jonathan's foreskin could not be contained. He dove into the sleeping bag and nibbled at it while Jonathan's erection returned. Kevin returned from the shower, triumphantly transformed. "Hey, you virgins," he said to Vic and Jonathan, "make much of time. Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, Old Time is still a-flying, and this same flower that smiles today, tomorrow will be dying. Carpe diem!"
Alert to the strains of a troubadour, Vic straddled Jonathan's abdomen. To give them room, Henry flung the sleeping-bag cover off of them. He knew what Vic wanted. He applied lube to his finger and ran it up Vic's ass. Vic edged backward toward Jonathan's turgid cock. He gasped when Jonathan's glans passed the sphincter. Jonathan arched upward to fill the inviting cavity. Vic moved into a sitting position to take in more cock. Jonathan pulled him close by the haunches. Their bodies clashed as Vic rode Jonathan's cock. In one deft move, they rolled over so Jonathan could mission Vic. Henry pushed a pillow under Vic's ass. Jonathan got the complete penetration that he was aching for. After a furious round of missionary humping, Jonathan flipped Vic over and fucked doggie-style. With his mind intent on fucking Vic, Jonathan barely noticed when Henry lubed his ass from behind. He didn't protest when Henry finger-fucked him, or knelt between his legs and thumped his throbbing cock into Jonathan's cleft. He yelped at first, but with teeth clenched, he bore Henry's penetration. Jonathan fucked Vic, and Henry fucked Jonathan. In unison they shot spooge into willing assholes.
After another round in the shower, the boys sat in their fire-circle drinking tumblers of Mcmyra. They talked about breeding. Henry was seeded by Vic. Red Hawk was seeded by Jonathan and Kevin. Kevin was seeded by Red Hawk. Vic was seeded by Jonathan. Jonathan was seeded by Henry. "It's like flowers cross- pollinated by honeybees. Bzzzz!" In a playful gesture, Jonathan dug a finger into Henry's crotch. "Keep your suckin' proboscis away from my stamen," Henry said. He wrestled Jonathan to the floor and fondled his ass. (And we all thought Jonathan was shy!)
They talked about cherry-popping. Red Hawk popped Kevin. Jonathan popped Vic. Henry popped Jonathan. "The Three Graces, dancing around a maypole in February!" Henry exclaimed. "I've heard it said that there's always a special place in a guy's heart for the man who popped him," Kevin said, looking at Red Hawk. Signs of a budding romance, but Henry wasn't jealous.
They talked about ARCH Triangle, and the Valentine Dance. "I'll gamble my ass that Drew Fox comes with Göran Svenson," Kevin said. I wasn't the only one who noticed that Drew was sweet on Göran."
"We can gossip when we're together," Henry said, "but remember, guys, confidentiality. Whatever happens in Triangle stays in Triangle. If word gets out about Drew, he'll closet himself for years."
Jonathan took Kevin's bet, knowing he'd probably lose.