My Alaskan Summer
By:
Morris Henderson
(Copyright 2009 by the author)
The author retains all rights. No reproductions
are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...
CHAPTER 1, 2,
3, 4, 5,
6
MEETING PHIL
When I was a senior in high school I was on the top of the world. Well...not quite. My grades were good, I played on a winning football team, I had lots of friends, and I had been accepted to my top-choice college. I was very happy. Except for one thing.
I had known that I was different from a very early age when I was fascinated with my two older brothers' progress through puberty. As with most close families, there were plenty of opportunities to see them naked and it excited me in ways that, at the time, I couldn't understand. At thirteen, I was delighted that my penis began to grow, silky strands of pubic hair began to sprout, and my ball sack began to hang down instead of clinging to my body. At fourteen, while idly playing with my hard cock, I had my first dry orgasm, which led to an increasingly obsessive practice of masturbation. At fifteen, I realized that I was attracted to other boys and had no interest in girls. At sixteen, I accepted the undeniable fact that I was gay but also recognized that I would be ridiculed, tormented, and miserable if anyone learned my secret. Others may have seen me as a good student, an athlete with some talent, and "normal" but they would never know the frustration and misery that haunted me, especially in the shower and locker room with the football team. It was acceptable to admire my team mates' hard, muscular bodies but I had to steal quick glances at the masculinity between their legs.
I was looking forward to college. Leaving the small, Midwestern town I grew up in would be an exciting adventure. I would not play football at college. I enjoyed football because of the competition and the camaraderie with my team mates. It had also bulked up my muscles; I was proud of my physique. However, I recognized that I was good enough for a small high school's team but I was no match for college players.
My dad was very supportive of my choice of a college even though it meant leaving home. We had always been close, especially after my mom died when I was nine. I treasured the relationship with my dad; he was everything a dad should be to a son.
I knew my dad could afford my college education; he owned a consulting firm that was very successful. He had put my sister and two brothers through college with very little impact on our standard of living.
Then my world crashed around me. Dad was indicted for embezzling company funds and mail fraud--a federal offense. The government seized his company's assets, froze his personal accounts, and slapped a lien on his real estate holdings. As a result, his net worth turned out to be a negative six figures.
The deadline for applying for financial aid had passed so my college plans were trashed.
He was overcome with guilt and self-hatred when he broke the news to me. For the first time in my life, I saw my father cry, not just tears but shuddering sobs. Because I loved him so much, his tears upset me more than what he had done or that he would surely go to prison. I began to fear that he was or would become suicidal so I tried to lift his spirits. I spent an hour or so telling my dad that I still loved him and that I would work for a while, save my money, and go to college later.
I hoped that would relieve the intense pain he was feeling. But over the next few weeks, he became increasingly despondent. When I told him I had found a good job and could easily save most of a good salary for college, I hoped that he would be happy for me. Instead, it triggered renewed feelings of failure and shame that he couldn't finance my education.
I got the job thanks to the influence of an uncle. The job was a "driller's helper." A mining firm would be drilling exploratory holes in the wilderness surrounding Ketchikan, Alaska to retrieve core samples for analysis by geologists. (Ketchikan, I learned, is near the southern tip of a narrow strip of Alaska between Canada and the Pacific Ocean.)
I told my dad that the company would fly me to Ketchikan when school was out but the reality was that I had to exhaust my savings account for the airline fare.
I hated to leave my dad to cope with his problems but I also looked forward to the adventure. I would be outdoors in a part of the country I had never seen. I would have no living expenses. The company would provide food and lodging (which turned out to be a camper on a four-wheel-drive pickup truck). My paycheck would be deposited in a bank account. We would be miles from civilization so there would be no place to spend money anyway.
I was told that the driller, my boss, would pick me up at the Ketchikan airport and we would immediately go to the drilling site. Upon entering the baggage claim area, I saw a man dressed in jeans and plaid shirt holding a paper with my name on it.
I was dumb-struck! The guy was drop-dead gorgeous! I guessed him to be in his late 20's. Medium-length, jet black hair crowned a perfectly proportioned face that was set off by piercingly alert eyes and a neatly trimmed beard. The loose flannel shirt didn't conceal his well-developed chest and muscular arms. I couldn't help but glance at his crotch (What gay young man wouldn't?) and then worried that he had seen me do it. I learned long ago to be careful, to restrain the temptation to admire attractive males, and even to laugh at jokes about queers. But I couldn't resist admiring Phil.
So I found myself in a situation where I would be working--and living--with man who personified masculinity and who was the embodiment of my years of fantasizing. But with whom, I was sure, any chance of intimacy was hopeless. As a virgin gay man with a very active libido, how could I cope?
I walked up to him and said, "I'm Ryan Winters. You must be Phil Yeager."
He shot me a smile that exuded friendship and replied, "That I am. Pleased to meet you, Ryan."
My duffle bag and backpack arrived on the baggage carousel. As I slung my back pack over my shoulders, Phil effortlessly picked up my heavy duffle bag. "Let's be on our way," he said. "I'd like to get to the camp site before dark."
I followed him to the parking lot where he opened the rear door of the camper and tossed in my duffle bag. I added my back pack and we got into the truck.
It was an hour and a half drive to the camp site. We followed paved roads for about half the distance and then Phil turned onto a winding dirt road that led up a canyon. He slowed down and turned off the road to follow two ruts through the thick pine forest and up the side of the mountain. I had left civilization behind. I would spend the next few months in the wilderness with a man that was not only a hunk but had a pleasant, friendly personality. I felt like a kid in a candy store who knew he could not sample any of the enticing goodies.
On the drive, our conversation was constant. I learned that he had an undergraduate degree in Forestry from Purdue. When his father had a stroke and couldn't work, his mother went to work but couldn't afford Phil's graduate education. He had taken this job to earn enough for his master's degree. He had two brothers, one two years older, the other three years younger. He also explained what I would be doing as a driller's helper. "We'll work ten hours a day, six days a week," he said but added, "It's not so bad. There's not much to do up in the woods, anyway."
It was so comfortable talking to him that I told him more about my life and my goals for the future than I had told anyone else. Talking to him felt so natural that I almost forgot how stunningly attractive he was. But not completely. Whenever he would look my way and smile, I would think how wonderful it would be to see him naked, to run my hands all over his solid muscles, and to give him satisfaction. But that, I realized, would never happen.
He finally pulled into a clearing and parked. "Here we are, Ryan. Our home away from home. Let's get you settled in. I'll cook up some supper. By the time we eat, it'll be dark. That'll be bed time. We'll have to get up at six, eat breakfast, and hike about two miles to the job site."
He opened the door at the rear of the camper, climbed in, and told me to get in. To say it was cramped wouldn't begin to describe how little room there was. Along one side, there was a small cook stove, refrigerator, and a small table with two benches that folded down. On the other side were built-in cabinets and a few coat hooks. Two camping chairs were folded up in the little remaining space. Above the cab of the truck was a mattress. The passage way was barely wide enough for two people to squeeze past each other.
"Cozy," I said without thinking.
"You'll get used to it," he laughed. "Besides, we won't be inside much except to eat and sleep. Most of the time we'll be enjoying the great outdoors."
"There's no bathroom," I said as I felt a strong urge to pee.
He laughed again. "It's right over there," he said pointing to the edge of the clearing. "Pick a tree to pee on. There's a small porty-potty whenever you have to poop."
I walked over to the nearest tree and pulled out my cock. Just as I let go with a forceful stream, Phil came up to stand beside me. "I gotta pee, too," he said and pulled out his cock. In spite of my practiced caution, I glanced down, which would arouse suspicion in any similar circumstance. What I saw captured my attention. He casually pulled back his foreskin, aimed, and let go. You might call it a fetish but I had always admired an uncut cock and regretted the fact that I had been circumcised. My glance turned into a gaze when suddenly, I realized that Phil saw me staring at his cock. Not even one day into the job and I had committed the unthinkable!
I quickly averted my eyes and waited for Phil to say something about my breech of etiquette. I felt terrible. A cocktail of emotions flooded my mind: regret, shame, and fear.
But Phil said nothing. It would have been better if he had. At least then I would know what he thought of my indiscretion. I was left wondering what he thought, which only intensified my anxiety.
We finished, zipped up, and walked back to the camper.
Supper that night was a surprise: steak, hash-brown potatoes, and green beans. I complimented him on the meal and joked, "I was afraid it would be rattle snake and bird eggs."
He laughed heartily--an infectious laugh that triggered my own. "Good meals are a perk of the job, Ryan. We work Sunday through Friday. On Saturday, we go into town to stock up on food, visit the Laundromat, pick up our mail, and do errands."
I helped him clear the table. He washed the dishes and I dried them. During that time, brushing up against him was inevitable. I tried to avoid it because when our bodies came in contact my thoughts turned naughty.
It got dark in a hurry as the sun set behind a mountain. The single overhead, battery-powered light provided little more than a glow in the cramped space.
"Let's hit the sack," Phil said. "Morning will come early."
The moment I had been dreading had come. I had worried about sleeping arrangements since I first saw the "bed" perched over the top of the truck's cab. My worries came thundering back to my consciousness. I would be sharing a bed with the most handsome, virile man I had ever met! And there was no way I could take advantage of the situation!
He started to strip off his clothes. As much as I wanted to watch him and see his hard, muscular body, I forced myself to undress.
Phil, by then, was down to his boxers. In a series of very carefully cast glances, I noticed his massive chest nearly covered with hair that ran down to the waistband of his boxers, muscular arms, and thick, firm legs, also sporting a light covering of hair His boxers were loose but couldn't hide his firm, rounded ass cheeks and an unmistakable bulge in front.
"My God," I thought. "This has to be the sexiest man alive! How am I going to cope with living with him--with sleeping with him!--for the next few months?"
I was also down to my boxers. I always slept in the nude at home but had packed pajamas just in case. "My pajamas are in my duffle bag," I said.
"You won't need them," he said. "With two of us in bed, we're sure to be warm enough. Of course, if you're shy, you can wear them." He scanned my nearly naked body from head to toe and added, "I don't think you have to be shy with that body."
I didn't know how to interpret his last comment. Did he admire my body in the same way I admired his? Might he possibly be interested in doing what I so desperately wanted? Or was he just being friendly? To be safe, I had to assume that he was just trying to put me at ease.
"If you don't mind," he said, "Crawl up first. I'd prefer to sleep on the outside so I can jump down in the morning, shut off the alarm clock, and start the coffee."
I was tired from the long trip but it seemed like an hour or more before I fell asleep. The inside of the camper was cramped but the bed was more so. There was no way to avoid our arms and legs touching. I got an erection in spite of my attempts to avoid thinking of the handsome man next to me. At home, I would easily solve my problem with a satisfying jerk off but, of course, that was out of the question. My cock was still hard when--finally--I fell asleep.
I was awakened by the alarm and Phil getting out of bed to shut it off. I looked at my watch: six o'clock but already light outside--summer days are longer in the North country. I watched him slip on his clothes and leave, presumably to empty his bladder. I seized the opportunity to get out of bed while he was gone. Although a morning woody is common, I somehow didn't want Phil to see the tent in my boxers. When he returned, I went outside to pee. I gave a momentary thought to jerking off--my usual morning ritual--but decided that it would take more time than is required for pissing and would be suspicious.
After bacon, eggs, toast, and coffee, we were ready to go to work. Phil grabbed two sack lunches out of the small refrigerator and we hiked up the canyon. Several times, we had to cross the stream that ran through it. Eventually, we climbed up a hill. I was winded when we came to a clearing in the dense pine forest but Phil seemed as energetic as when we had set out.
There was a 30-foot tripod in the clearing with a small platform near the top and a larger platform at the base. A large piece of machinery, the drill, sat under the tripod.
"How the hell did this get here?" I asked.
"Helicopter. It's cheaper than clearing a road and saves hundreds of trees." Handing me a pair of coveralls, he said, "Put these on. They'll save your clothes from getting dirty."
For the next five hours, I spent half my time on the upper platform attaching rods for drilling deeper or removing them as the long string of rods were pulled out of the hole to retrieve the core sample. Phil was patient explaining what I had to do but he was totally focused on the job. When I was not at the top of the tripod, he had other tasks for me. It wasn't difficult but I was grateful when he announced that it was time for lunch.
Over lunch, Phil's personality changed. He was the casual, cordial, friendly person I remembered from the day before. I liked that. I liked him. In a very short time, I had developed quite an affection for him that was more than infatuation with his manly body.
Our lunch break was short, only half an hour, and that time seemed to pass quickly. It seemed like we could talk far longer but there was a job to do and there would be plenty of opportunity in the months ahead.
At half past five, our 10-hour shift was over although it took another twenty minutes to "button up" the equipment.
After supper that night, we played cards until after sunset. I thoroughly enjoyed it and only periodically thought about how handsome Phil was. Getting into bed that night, however, triggered the lustful thoughts I had had the night before. The unavoidable skin-on-skin contact was pleasurable but, at the same time, extremely frustrating. Just thinking about the virile hunk next to me caused an erection that I couldn't do anything about.
After my third day of work, we headed back down the hill but, at the bottom, Phil turned left instead of right.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"About half a mile up the canyon is a waterfall. There's a pool at the base. I like to go up there from time to time. The water is cold but it's the nearest thing to a bathtub for miles. Sometimes, after I get dressed, I sit there and admire the grandeur of nature. Come on. I think you'll like the place."
Without waiting for a reply, he started up the canyon. I had no choice but to follow him. The anticipation of seeing him nude, at least getting in and out of the water, was exciting. But the thought of my cock inappropriately inflating was frightening.
The place was far more beautiful than he had implied. A twenty foot high water fall dropped crystal-clear water into a fifty foot wide pool and it was surrounded by craggy cliffs topped by lush green forest. The clear, deep-blue sky added to the spectacular environment. If there's a heaven, I hoped it would be just like this.
Phil immediately began taking off his clothes. I hesitated, partly because I wanted to see him naked and partly because I was afraid I couldn't control my cock. He must have thought I was reluctant to get in the cold water because he said, "Come on. The water's cold but the trick is to jump right in. After a minute or two, it's not so bad."
I didn't want him to think I was a coward so I took off my clothes. Fortunately, while I was doing that and not paying much attention to Phil, he jumped into the water. I missed my first chance to see him naked but it allowed me to finish undressing and jump in the water without getting aroused. The shock of the cold water guaranteed that my cock would not embarrass me.
After about five minutes, I said, "I thought you said I'd get used to the cold water. It's friggin' freezing in here."
He laughed, which only added to my misery.
"Kinda gets the blood running, doesn't it?" he said while still laughing. "But if you've had enough, we can get out. See that ledge over there? The sun's been shining on it all day, warming it up. We can stretch out on it to warm up and let the breeze dry us off."
Laying on top of a hard rock ledge wasn't my idea of comfort but if it was warmer, that's where I wanted to be. I lost no time scrambling out of the water and up to the ledge. Gratefully, it was warm--or perhaps it only felt warm after the frigid bath. Failing to think of what I would be exposing to view, I laid down on my back.
My thoughtlessness hit me like a freight train when I looked up to see Phil standing next to me. His firm, muscular body, ornamented with just the right amount of hair, towered over me. In spite of myself, my eyes were captured by the fantastic tube of meat dangling from a profuse bush of jet-black pubic hair. His balls were still shriveled up into his body from the cold water, which only made his cock seem fatter and longer. I looked too long but I couldn't help myself. I'm almost sure he noticed my interest in his manhood but he was a gentleman and he didn't say anything.
It got worse. I felt my cock stirring. I knew that would be followed by swelling and eventually an erection. I had gone three days without an orgasm. That alone was enough to make me horny as hell but the torment of living with--and sleeping with--Phil only made matters worse. I rolled over on my stomach to conceal the effect he had on me.
He then sat down next to me. I turned my head away from him; I didn't want any more visual stimulation that would make my problem worse than it already was. He started talking about how beautiful it was--the waterfall, the forest, the pristine hills, and his love of the outdoors. I carried my share of the conversation and it seemed to distract me from the image of his naked form next to me. My cock was even settling down.
But not for long. Suddenly, Phil said, "Hey, Ryan! I don't want to talk to the back of your head. Turn around."
I turned my head to face him, only to find him sitting cross-legged with his sagging cock plainly in view.
"That's better," he said with a smile, "but not good enough. You can't see the beauty of this place unless you sit up and look around."
I hesitated. Although my cock was behaving itself, I couldn't count on it staying limp.
"Come on, Ryan. Sit up."
He then started pointing out to me the surprising variety of vegetation. I had to sit up because he told me to and because it was the only way to see what he was pointing to.
He picked up a leaf to show me. "Look at this," he said. "You can tell a lot about the health of a forest by the leaves on the ground."
He continued by explaining what he concluded from examining the leaf. But I was only half-listening because he was holding the leaf in front of him. By looking at the leaf, I could also see his splendid cock. When he raised the leaf up against the sky, my eyes followed. I didn't see the leaf; I saw his brawny chest and prominent nipples. The stirring in my groin resumed.
Try as I might, I couldn't think of any way to hide my errant cock that was gradually thickening and rising. In desperation, I folded my arms across my lap, trying to hide my growing problem. It only drew his attention to the fact that I was aroused and trying to hide it.
He put the leaf down and looked at me. He was looking at my face but there was no doubt he had seen my hard-on.
"You've told me a lot about yourself, Ryan. But you've neglected some things that are important to a teenager. Do you have a girl friend back home?"
If I had been thinking clearly, I would have recognized that his question could be a first step toward inquiring about my sexual interests. Instead, I innocently answered, "Not really. I've dated a few times but nobody in particular."
"I suppose you're waiting for the right girl to come along, then."
Belatedly, it hit me. I could hardly say that I was waiting for the right guy, that I was gay. "Yeah, I suppose so," I lied.
There was a long pause. I grew more uncomfortable.
Finally, he said, "Maybe you're waiting for the right guy?"
"NO!" I exclaimed. "I'm not queer!"
Phil just smiled. Then he said, "I wasn't accusing you of that, Ryan. But let's get something straight. We're going to be together until at least September. We can either get along or fight. That's why my last helper quit. He chose to hide his feelings until they erupted into an argument. After that, it only got worse. I think we have to make a choice right now. Are we going to get along or not?"
"That's a no brainer," I replied. "We're stuck with each other so we damn well better get along."
"I agree. But it will take some effort from both of us. For starters, we have to be honest with each other. If I'm doing something that irritates you, I want you to say something. Don't let it fester. Does that sound fair?"
"Of course."
"Conversely, if you do something I don't like, I'm going to tell you. You'll have to accept it in the spirit it's given. You can't let your ego or pride or anything else cloud your thinking. Can you do that?"
"I think so."
"So we have an agreement--to be honest with each other--in the interest of getting along for the next four months."
"We do."
He extended his right hand. "Let's shake on it."
I shook his hand. But he didn't let go. Instead, he grasped my wrist with his left hand and held it. He looked me in the eye and said, "Now that we've agreed to be honest, I want to ask you again. Are you maybe waiting for the right guy to come along? Are you gay?"
The bluntness of his question put my mind in chaos. I could deny being gay. I could even avoid mentioning that I was helplessly attracted to him. But that would violate the promise I had just made and--possibly--delay the inevitable revelation of the truth. I could admit that I was gay. That would be the truth but I had not admitted it to anyone before. The secret was mine alone. Far worse would be his condemnation. I was sure that it would destroy our friendship and probably cost me a job that I needed.
I agonized over the dilemma while Phil waited patiently for my answer. I hung my head and forced out the words in barely more than a whisper. "Yes. I'm gay. Please don't hate me."
Still holding my hand, he said, "Thank you for being honest, Ryan. I suspected it but I wasn't sure."
"You suspected it?" I asked. "Why?"
"Very subtle signs," he replied. "I've noticed you...shall we say...checking me out. You get nervous when we get into bed. And just now when we were naked in the water. That doesn't fit with your competence and confidence at the drill site. And finally, that stiff boner down there suggests that you're aroused being naked with another man."
"I'm sorry!" I mumbled while trying to stem my tears.
"Don't be sorry, Ryan. You are what you are. In fact, I have to admire you for the way you have contained your feelings. The majority of men wouldn't even notice the signs...but I'm not part of that majority."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
He chuckled. "Have you noticed me checking you out?"
"Not really," I said.
"Do you remember how I complimented you on your physique?"
"Yeah. But I thought you were just being polite."
Phil smiled and asked, "Do you think it was really necessary to lie in bed so close that our bodies were in contact?"
"Well, there's not much room in the bed," I said.
"Geezus," he exclaimed. "You've got some things to learn. How about this? I sat down next to you here. I made you sit up and look at me, giving you a full frontal view. Think about it, Ryan."
"Oh my God!" I blurted out. "Do you mean that..." For some reason I couldn't finish the sentence.
"Am I gay?" he responded. "No, I'm not. I'm bisexual. I'm attracted to women and I've had several female partners. But I also appreciate the beauty of a man--if he has a body like yours. Being with a women and being with a man each provide their own unique pleasure. I enjoy both."
At that point, he released his grip on my hand and enveloped me in a hug. My fears vanished, to be replaced by an overwhelming relief. He not only accepted the fact that I was gay but, by implication, held out the potential of gay sex. The emotional roller coaster made me dizzy with relief and delight. But it also destroyed my composure and I cried on his broad shoulder.
Phil held me for a long period of utter bliss. I was locked in an embrace with the epitome of masculine beauty. Our bare skin seemed to meld. His strength seemed to flow into my body, expunging the persistent fear of malicious persecution for being gay that had gnawed at my soul for years. His understanding and compassion liberated me. His apparent willingness to share his remarkable body with me extinguished the frustration that had threatened my sanity. Nothing in my life to that point had been so thoroughly satisfying.
When I stopped crying and found my voice, I said, "You must think I'm a baby for crying. I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry, Ryan. And you're not a baby. If my guess is right, you've suffered a lot of mental anguish over your sexuality, which only increased over the last three days--having to control your urges, especially at night. The tears are just all that anguish draining out of your mind. It's really quite a healthy thing to do."
"But I'm still embarrassed," I said. "A real man is not supposed to cry."
He released me from the hug and exclaimed, "Nonsense! That's just a silly myth. I happen to believe that a real man is one who accepts his emotional side. A real man refuses to be a prisoner of the stereotypes that society imposes on him. I wasn't much older than you are now when I decided to reject the artificial boundaries of gender. That's why I'm bisexual. I appreciate the soft beauty of a woman--that's what men are supposed to do--but I also appreciate being with a man--and men aren't supposed to be that way. In my view, there's nothing wrong with enjoying both kinds of pleasure."
I was so immeasurably grateful for his considerate comments that I wanted to kiss him but instead I said, "Thank you, Phil, for understanding."
He grinned and said, "Let's get dressed and go back to the camper. Do you think you can fit that big bone of yours into your pants?"
We both laughed.
Then he said, "When we get back to camp, we can take off our clothes again if you like."
"I'd like that very much," I replied.
The hike down the canyon seemed to take forever because I was impatient to get to the camper. However, as we arrived at the camp site, I grew nervous. What if I made some foolish mistake? I really knew very little about how to make love to a man.
Either my nervousness was obvious or Phil was even more perceptive than I thought because he said, "What's the matter, Ryan? Cold feet? Second thoughts?"
"It's not that," I replied. "I've wanted something like this to happen for so long. It's a dream come true. It's just that I don't know what to do. I don't know what you expect of me."
"You've never been with another guy?" he asked.
"No. Only in my imagination," I confessed, feeling a little embarrassed at my lack of experience.
"Geezus," he said. "Not only do I have to teach you your job at the drill site but now I have to teach you about man-on-man sex!"
I laughed and said, "I'll be a very good student."
"Wait here," he said and disappeared into the camper. I wondered what he was doing but the mystery was solved when he emerged, carrying the blanket from the bed. "It's pretty cramped inside. We'll enjoy it more out in the fresh air." He spread the blanket on a flat, grassy area. "Come on," he said as he sat down on the blanket.
Obediently, I sat next to him. He must have noticed how nervous I was because he said, "Relax, Ryan. I know this is your first time so we'll go slow. But promise me one thing. If you're ever uncomfortable or don't want to do something, tell me. Okay?"
"Okay. But you'll have to tell me what to do. I've never done this before."
"Just lay back and enjoy, Ryan. Since you're new to this, I'm going to do all the work. I'm going to make love to you. You don't have to do anything. Then you can show me what you've learned by making love to me. Is that agreeable?"
"Anything you say...or do...is fine with me."
"Have you ever kissed a man before?" No, I don't suppose you have. Have you ever kissed a girl?"
"Yes...a few times."
"Did you like it?"
"Sort of. It was okay but I did it only because I thought it was expected of me."
"And you wished it was another guy?" he asked.
"Not at the time. But I've often wondered what it would be like to kiss a man."
He smiled and laid me down on my back. He laid down on his side next to me propped up on his elbow. He draped a leg across my legs and an arm across my chest. My heart started racing. My mind was a chaotic jumble of thoughts, mostly anticipating what was to come. My cock, which had already begun to swell, went into overdrive and stiffened to rock-hardness.
He massaged my chest for a short time and then bent over my face, slowly drawing closer. Our lips touched. A thrill ran through my body, totally unlike any feeling I'd had kissing a girl. I felt his tongue invade my mouth and it intensified my thrill. Before long, we were lip-locked and our tongues were dueling. I felt like I couldn't get enough but he backed off.
In my haze of delight I hadn't noticed that he had unbuttoned my outer shirt and thrust his hand up under my tee shirt. It was his teasing and gentle pinching of my nipples that made me aware of what he was doing. I moaned with pleasure. He softly chewed on my ear lobe and then kissed and licked his way across my cheek until he fastened his lips on mine and we kissed once more, this time to the brink of violence. It was pure ecstasy.
He pulled back and whispered, "Sit up a minute."
I complied. He removed my flannel shirt and pulled my tee shirt over my head, casting both aside carelessly. He laid me down again and began to kiss and lick across my chest before suckling on one nipple and then the other while his hand roamed across my stomach. Soon, I felt him unbuckling my belt, unfastening the waist button, and unzipping my fly. He straightened out my cock. Just releasing it from its uncomfortable position would have been enough but his hand touching me there put me into orbit.
He massaged my throbbing cock through my boxers until I had to say, "Stop. Please."
"You don't like it?" he asked.
"More than you could ever know," I replied. "But I feel like I have to cum and I don't want to yet."
"Ah," he grinned. "A horny young man with a hair trigger."
He resumed massaging my chest to give me time to back down from the impending orgasm. A few minutes later, he removed my shoes and socks and then pulled off my trousers, leaving me totally exposed except for my boxers. Then he did something unexpected. He suckled on my toes while massaging my feet. The sensation was unexpected and delightful. He then began to lick and kiss up my leg. When he spread my legs for better access to my inner thighs and started licking there, I went into a frenzy of arousal. He returned to the ankle on the other leg, which gave me a little time to calm down but before long he was getting closer to my crotch and my moans grew louder.
He removed my boxers and moved in for the grand finale. One hand fondled my balls while the other reached up to tease a nipple. His lips and tongue were tantalizingly running up and down the underside of my super-sensitive and aching cock. Uncontrollably, I began to thrash about while clenching hands full of blanket. I was moaning loudly, in uncontained pleasure and an unrelenting urge to climax.
The world vanished from my consciousness, leaving only an awareness of the incredibly erotic sensations emanating from my nether region. Vaguely, I sensed his lips encircle the head of my cock. I didn't even have time--or the ability--to warn him. The first massive torrent of cum erupted followed by several more while I trashed about, unable to control myself. It was the most intensely electrifying orgasm of my life. My heart was beating wildly. My breathing was rapid as I gulped for air. It seemed like every nerve in my cock was hyperactive and sending an overload of pleasure/pain signals to my brain.
I took several minutes for me to return to anything like normal. By that time, Phil was lying next to me with his head on my shoulder. As soon as I could, I said, "I'm sorry! I should have warned you I had to cum."
"It wouldn't have done any good, Ryan. I wanted to taste and swallow your cum."
"Gawd," I said. "You've made me so happy."
"That was pretty obvious," he replied dryly.
We cuddled for a short time. I was luxuriating in my good fortune until I realized that Phil no doubt wanted, even needed, similar attention from me.
I copied what he had done for me although I was so eager that I didn't spend much time getting his clothes off. Then I slowed down. I took full advantage of the freedom to roam my hands over his impressive chest that I had only been able to glance at quickly before. I kissed and sucked on his nipples and they responded by protruding out to meet my mouth. When I got his jeans off, I found his muscular legs to be firmer than they had appeared when I only looked at them. My pace increased because I was driven to see...to feel...to taste his manhood. When I removed his boxers, I was disappointed that his cock was limp. I worried that my technique was not up to par. But then I realized that bringing him to erection would afford me more time to fondle, lick, suck, and taste his magnificent cock.
As his cock began to swell, my own also enlarged. In a short time, we were both fully engorged. As I sucked the end of his cock (I don't think I could have gotten more in my mouth.), I stroked the base with my hand. I wanted to give him the pleasure of an orgasm but, at the same time, I wanted to suck and stroke his cock for as long as possible. In a way, I got both my wishes. It was several minutes before I heard him say, "I'm going to cum, Ryan. You don't have to take it in your mouth."
I ignored his warning and stepped up the pace of my sucking and stroking, determined to swallow every drop of man cum that he could give me. The forceful jet of cream slammed against the back of my throat, causing me to gag, but I kept my lips wrapped securely around the erupting fountain. Three more blasts assaulted my mouth, seeming to fill it completely with its sheer volume. Reluctantly, I swallowed but kept enough in my mouth to continue savoring the taste.
We cuddled together for almost an hour. A warm breeze drifted up the canyon and across our naked bodies. The aroma of pine mingled with his manly scent. To this day, the smell of a pine tree brings to mind Phil's scent and the utter joy of our first sex.
I had finally experienced what I had yearned for since puberty. And it was with a man that was the embodiment of my fantasies. I had never been so happy.
During supper that evening, we had a long discussion during which we each revealed our sexual history and fantasies. I had very little to say about my history apart from the confusion of puberty, the sense of guilt over my attraction to men, and the frustrations of having to keep my secret.
Phil sympathized and asked, "Have you given thought to coming out...to living as a gay man?"
"A lot of thought," I replied. I even planned what I would say to my dad. I think he would be surprised and disappointed but wouldn't condemn me. I thought I might do it after I found a partner to share my life with. But right now, it's the last thing he needs to hear."
"And why is that?" Phil asked.
I then had to explain my dad's legal difficulties, emphasizing that I loved him in spite of what he had done and admitting that I was worried about his going to prison.
"You've had a rough time," Phil said sympathetically. "Being gay is hard enough but your dad's problems must bring you even more grief."
"Yeah," I replied. "I almost didn't take this job so I could stay with him. But he argued that he has three other children he can lean on and that my education was important."
"Education is important. And I admire both you and your dad for thinking it is."
I wanted to change the subject--away from my worries over my dad--so I asked Phil about his college studies.
"Pretty normal," he said thoughtfully. "A degree in forestry...nature has been a passion of mine since I was a kid. But if my guess is right, you're real interest is in my sex life. Am I right?"
"Well," I said hesitantly. "I am. I mean being straight or being gay is pretty clear to me. But you don't hear much about bisexuals."
"I started out straight. I dated several girls in high school and even scored with a few. They were cute and fun to be with but I wasn't ready to commit to a relationship. Then, when I got to college, I dated a few more and was lucky enough to have a fairly active sex life. Things changed in my sophomore year. I had a room mate who was the opposite of my room mate as a freshman. He was bright, ambitious, outgoing, and didn't trash the room with dirty clothes and junk. Just before Christmas that year, we were talking and I asked him why he didn't go out on dates. He gave some noncommittal reply like 'girls don't interest me.' I thought that was pretty unusual so I asked why. After a lot more conversation and because we had become good friends, he admitted that he was gay."
"So he was in the closet?" I asked.
"Right. Pretty much like you were in high school. Afraid to reveal his secret because of the bigotry and persecution he would face. We talked for hours. I was curious about what makes people gay and what attracts them to other men. I must say, it was a real education for me. Then I asked about the mechanics of gay sex. He admitted he didn't know from experience but had learned a lot from the internet. He started telling me about his fantasies: what he wanted to do with a man if he ever had the chance. Then came the shocker. He confessed that I was usually the other man in his fantasies."
Phil then paused as he seemed to be recalling that eventful late-night discussion.
Impatient to hear more, I asked, "And then what?"
"I felt sorry for the poor guy. I had an active sex life and he didn't. Also, I was feeling adventuresome. So I asked him if he would like to have real sex with me rather than just imagining it. He stared at me in disbelief. I told him I was serious. Well, we spent the next few hours in bed together. That's when I learned how a man can bring pleasure to another man. Both of us were experimenting and we had a few awkward moments but throughout the rest of the school year we refined our techniques and I learned about the unique pleasure of having sex with a man."
"And did you still date girls?" I asked.
"Of course. But whenever I didn't have a date and was horny, my room mate and I would get together. He was always horny! I don't think I masturbated more than a couple of times through the rest of the school year."
"He must have hated to see the school year end."
"We both did. But in our Junior and Senior years, he had a steady boyfriend. We only got together a couple of times. It was no good. He felt he was cheating on his boyfriend. And he was!"
"So that was the end of your sex with men?"
"Not really. It seemed I got tuned in to other guys' interest in me. That's why I was able to detect your interest in me."
"I'm not at all surprised that gay men would be interested in you. I sure was. And am!"
"Yeah," he grinned. "It was obvious from the first time we met at the airport. You concealed it fairly well but I have to tell you that the signals were over the top. I almost came on to you that first night you were here. After all, I hadn't had more than my fist for a long time. But I wanted a little more time to be absolutely sure of your interests. I sure didn't need a sexual harassment charge!"
I laughed. "Now that we both know about each other, Phil, you can harass me all you want!"
"How about now?" he asked with an evil grin.
I returned the grin and said, "It's not dark yet but we could go to bed and play games until it's time to sleep."
That night, he introduced me to the magic of 69. I couldn't hold off as long as he did and gave him another dose of hot cream soon after we started. Then, I thoroughly enjoyed sucking his awesome cock for as long as I could. After his climax, we switched positions, hugged and kissed, and eventually fell asleep with our arms and legs intertwined.
We rolled out of bed the next morning and immediately went outside to pee. I had no inhibition watching him pull back the foreskin on his cock and let go with a forceful stream. "Thanks for last night," I said. "It was a dream come true."
"I'm glad you liked it," he replied as he tucked his cock back into his jeans. He walked back to the camper, leaving me to finish pissing. His matter-of-fact reply and abrupt departure disturbed me. It would have been nice if he said he enjoyed it also. He didn't even smile. Did I fail to please him? Was I too much of an amateur? He seemed to enjoy it at the time. Did he have second thoughts about doing it again?
We ate breakfast and packed our lunch but the conversation was limited. The friendly attitude that he had shown before was still there but noticeably subdued. I wanted to ask him whether our sex the night before was bothering him but I didn't dare. We hiked to the drill site and set to work. As on previous days, he was focused on the job all morning long. He even spoke sharply to me when I forgot to refill the fuel tank. I became increasingly worried.
We broke for lunch. This was the time of day when he dropped the "worker/supervisor" attitude and opened up with casual, easygoing conversation. But today was different. I tried to engage him in conversation but even my questions about his passionate interest in nature were met with perfunctory replies.
Finally, I had to know what was going on in his head. "Phil, we made a pact to be honest, right?"
"We did." His answer was almost a grunt.
"We agreed to let each other know if something was bothering us."
"Yeah."
"Well, I'm bothered. I suspect something is bothering you. Is it because of what we did last night?"
There was a long pause before he answered, "Last night was great." His answer was unenthusiastic and he didn't even look at me.
"Look," I said. "If I did something wrong, I want you to tell me so I don't do it again."
"You were great," he replied.
"So what's the matter? You're different today than the guy you have been."
He finished his sandwich and stared off into the distance. I worried that I had pushed him too hard to open up to me. I decided to drop the subject and hope that he would return to his normal self later. Everybody has a bad day once in a while; perhaps this was one of his.
We sat silently for several minutes until he said, "Time to get back to work."
All afternoon I was exceptionally careful to do my job right but I still had time to worry about Phil's confusing change of personality. We quit for the day, buttoned up the equipment, and started back to our camp site. Neither of us spoke. By the time we arrived at the camper, I was beside myself worrying about Phil and, more importantly, whether our sex had inalterably damaged our relationship. But I was also at a loss as to what to do about it. It seemed there was nothing I could do to repair any damage (if there was any) until Phil decided to talk about it.
"Think you can fix supper for us?" he asked. "I'd like to take a walk. I'll be back in about an hour."
I was more than puzzled at his request but agreed. While I fixed the pork chops, mashed potatoes, corn, and apple sauce, I frantically searched for an answer or even a clue as to why Phil had changed. My search was futile.
As we ate, it was painfully silent. But what could I do? The only thing that made a modicum of sense to me was to give him his space and hope for the best.
When we finished eating, he said, "Good meal, Ryan." (That little compliment was welcome but didn't alleviate my growing anxiety.) "I'll clean up if you'll go down to the creek and get some water to fill the water tank in the camper."
"Okay," I replied.
When my chore was done, I found him sitting on the grass at the side of the camper--the very spot where I lost my virginity. "Sit down, Ryan. I want to talk to you."
I sat down beside him. After a long pause, he began, "You asked me at lunch whether something was bothering me. I didn't give you an answer and I want to apologize."
"That's all right," I lied.
"I couldn't answer you then because I needed more time to think. That's why I've been so aloof. That's why I took a walk after supper." He continued to gaze off into the distance while he continued, "Something is bothering me. It's you."
"What have I done?" I exclaimed. "Tell me! What's wrong with me?"
"No, no, no!" he promptly said. "There's nothing wrong with you! And that's my problem. Everything about you is perfect. You're bright, considerate, a good worker, and terrific company. You also have an admirable body. That's what's troubling me. Since the moment I met you at the airport, I've admired you. At first, it was just admiration for your good looks and good mind. In the few days we've been together, that admiration has turned to ... well ... affection. Then there was last night."
He paused and I had to break the silence to ask, "What about last night?"
He turned his head and looked at me. "Last night, when I sucked you off, I was doing a favor, giving you an experience that you said you wanted. Sure, I enjoyed it but it wasn't anything special. Then you sucked me off. I thoroughly enjoyed that. You did a good job, especially considering it was your first time. My problem came later."
He paused again. I didn't know if the problem was my fault or if he was having difficulty expressing himself.
"When we went to bed and had sex again, I started to get a feeling I've never had before. Then when we cuddled together, that feeling increased. I don't know how to describe it, Ryan. But I became aware that I'm attracted to you. That's never happened to me before. Sure, I've had sex with a lot of women and a few men but it was sex, not much more. It was extremely satisfying but the next day I realized it was just sex. I didn't feel the way I did this morning. It confused me. I tried to explain it away by saying it was because I hadn't had sex for a long time. But, in the end, I had to be honest with myself. Sex with you was more meaningful. Don't ask me to explain it; I can't explain it to myself yet. I have to figure that out. Perhaps it's because of your character, your values, your personality, and--not the least of which--your body."
He paused again and I started to say something but he cut me off.
"That made me examine my sexuality, Phil. I told you I was bisexual. And I was. But, dammit, I'm not so sure anymore. I mean bisexual is only a small step away from being straight; it's almost socially acceptable. Being gay is totally different. Right now, I'm trying to decide whether I'm bisexual or gay but what I'm sure of is that I'm attracted to you more than anyone I've ever been with. So here's the bottom line. I'd like to continue having sex with you but you have to understand that it's a temporary arrangement for the summer that we're together. Can we do that without any talk of commitment? Can we enjoy what we have without the expectation that it will last forever?"
"I appreciate your honesty, Phil. And I'm flattered beyond belief. But I have a confession to make as well. I was sexually attracted to you when I met you in the airport. But that was frustrated lust. On the drive up here, I knew I liked you but that only increased my lust. Over the few days I've been here, the lust persisted and my frustrations grew stronger. In the meantime, I've come to respect you as a person. Mind you, I still get horny when I see you with your shirt off but now I know what's inside that fantastic body. The sex we had was terrific because, obviously, I've wanted real sex, not fantasies, for a long time. But it was also special because I genuinely like you. It's no understatement to say that I'm thrilled over continuing to have sex with you. And I accept your condition--no commitment. But allow me to hope. I won't talk about it but I'm sure that I'll want to be your lover when the summer is over."
Phil grinned and said, "Why don't you go get the blanket."
I knew what that meant and lost no time retrieving it from inside the camper.
From that moment on, the sex we had was different. We kissed each other as we had done the evening before but its effect on me was qualitatively different. My first sex had been thrilling but for purely physical and sensual reasons. Now, a bond had been formed between us ... a temporary bond with no guarantee of permanence but one that elevated my passion to another plain. In our first sex, my interest was mostly selfish: to derive as much pleasure as possible. Now, as we were lying there naked and engaged in intense foreplay, it was his pleasure and not my own that was foremost in my mind. When I sucked him off the night before, I enjoyed the feel of his manly, stiff cock in my mouth and I wanted to taste his cum. This time, I enjoyed sucking him no less but I wanted his seed inside me; I wanted a precious part of him to be a part of me.
He was conflicted and not ready to commit to a lasting, loving relationship but that became my fondest wish.
When the sun set, it began to get chilly. Phil gave me a tender kiss and said, "Shall we get dressed and go inside?"
"Why get dressed?" I asked. "It's almost bed time. We can play cards for a while before going to bed and, frankly, I'd like to admire you in the nude while we do."
Phil laughed; it was great to hear it. He was back to his charming self.
"You're incorrigible," he exclaimed. "Just don't get too horny and distracted. I want some real competition in the card game."
Laughing, we gathered our clothes and went inside. His warning not to get horny and distracted was useless. I kept admiring his bare arms and chest and handsome face. He was consistently winning the game.
"That's enough!" he almost shouted. "It's obvious your mind is not on the game."
"No," I confessed. "Can we go to bed now?"
To bed we went but sleep was delayed for more than an hour as we made love for the fourth time in two days. My happiness was completely off the scale.
On Saturday, we slept late -- until eight. Both of us had morning woodies but we couldn't take advantage of it because we had to go pee. We no longer bothered to put on any clothes for this task and made a game of it: who could pee the farthest or longest, who could hit a target spot on the ground first, or simply aiming to merge our streams. Since I was free to look at Phil's naked body as long as I wanted, I couldn't concentrate on his beauty and compete at the same time.
On returning to the camper, I was about to suggest that we get back in bed but Phil said, "Let's get dressed. We have to go into town today for supplies. I thought we might have breakfast in town."
We tossed our laundry and some bags of trash for disposal into the camper in town and set off down the canyon. When we pulled into the parking lot of a café, I realized I had very little cash to buy my breakfast but my fears vanished when Phil said, "This is not the fanciest place but it has the best food. Order what you want. And don't worry about the cost because our meals are on the company."
As soon as we walked into the café, a waitress rushed up to Phil, hugged him, and said, "Hi, Phil. I've missed you. I was afraid you were some bear's dinner. How've you been?"
"Just fine, Shirley. I want you to meet my new helper, Ryan."
I shook her hand. It made me uncomfortable as she looked me up and down and said, "My, my, aren't you a handsome young man." I had this odd feeling that she was looking right through my clothes.
We sat in a booth at the back and ordered the "Klondike Special" -- two big waffles with lots of butter and syrup, two sausage patties, a small bacon and cheese omelet, orange juice, and coffee. I could hardly finish it all but Phil had no problem cleaning his plate. When Shirley came to clear away the dishes and fill our coffee mugs, she said to Phil (very seductively, I thought), "I get off work at two, handsome." Then, casting a glance at me, she added, "I'd like to get to know your young friend, too."
"Not today, babe," Phil replied. "We've got a lot of errands and we have to get back to camp."
Her disappointment was palpable as she said, "Maybe another time, then?"
"We'll see," Phil replied.
After we got back into the cab of the camper, I couldn't help but ask, "Am I wrong or was she angling for a threesome?"
"It sure seems like it," Phil allowed. "She's a hot little number and insatiable but I never knew she would be into that kind of thing."
"So you've been with her before? Wait. That's unfair. You don't have to answer."
Phil chuckled and said, "That's all right. Yeah. I've spent a few afternoons with her. But that was before I realized that she had a whole herd of studs putting it to her. She's hot but I scratched her off my list."
"I feel better," I said. "I was afraid you turned her down because of me ... because I'm gay."
Phil thought for a moment and said, "That was not the reason. In fact, if she weren't such a slut I might have invited you in on the fun. You say you're gay but you've never sampled straight sex. It would give you a chance to decide whether or not you liked it."
"Not likely," I said, perhaps with a little too much emphasis. "Besides, it wouldn't be a fair test. Not with you there. I'd be too focused on you."
Phil chuckled, "I guess I should be flattered."
"Damn right! In my mind, you're the absolute ideal so why settle for second best?"
Phil turned suddenly serious. "Hold on, Ryan! We agreed that we would enjoy each other for the summer. We have no commitment beyond that. Who knows what's going to happen in September? You may go back home and I may be sent to another job site -- who knows where? You would then have to find another guy to share your life with."
His rebuke was, I suppose, necessary. I resolved to be more careful in what I said. But it was also a crushing reminder that my idyllic time with him was limited.
He sensed my gloomy mood and said, "Cheer up, Ryan. With your brains, character, and astonishingly good looks, you'll have no trouble attracting the right guy."
We couldn't continue the conversation because he pulled around to the back of a supermarket, stopped, and said. "Let's get the trash out of the back and into the dumpster."
Having disposed of our trash, he drove around to the front and parked. We went inside and loaded up two carts with food for the coming week. He paid with the company credit card and we put the food away in the back of the camper.
"Where to now?" I asked.
"Laundromat, the geologist's office to arrange pick-up of the core samples, post office, and lunch."
I didn't think I would be hungry after the enormous breakfast but by two in the afternoon when we stopped at a different café, I was ready for at least a sandwich.
Back in the camper after lunch, Phil said, "I think that's all the errands ... unless there's a letter from the company in that stack of mail." He thumbed through the envelopes. "Nothing from the company," he said. "But there's a letter here for you."
"For me?" I said with surprise. "I've only been here a week. I didn't think I'd be getting any mail so soon."
"We're not at the end of the earth," Phil joked. "There's regular mail service even to Alaska."
Phil started driving back to camp. I opened the letter from my brother. Before I got to the end, I could no longer read. Tears clouded my vision.
"What's the matter?" Phil asked.
"My dad," I sputtered as I fought unsuccessfully to stem my tears. I couldn't say more than that.
Phil pulled off the road and parked. He pulled me to him and embraced me. "Let it out, Ryan, it's okay."
After several minutes of sobbing into his shoulder, I found my voice. "It seems he attempted suicide. An overdose of some kind of pill. My brother found him and called 911. They took him to the hospital. The next day he was transferred to a psychiatric hospital. I shouldn't have left him alone!"
"Don't blame yourself, Ryan. He approved of your coming up here, didn't he?"
"Yes, but I shouldn't have abandoned him!"
"Is he all right now?"
"I don't know. I couldn't read the second page of the letter."
He picked the letter up off my lap and read it. "Your brother says he's doing fine. He'll be getting treatment for the next few weeks." He put the letter back in my lap, hugged me more tightly and said, "I'm sorry. Do you want to go back home?"
"Yes, I'd like to. But no, I don't want to. I don't know what I want, Phil. I couldn't be happier here with you but I worry about my dad."
"We're going back into town," Phil said as he put the camper in gear and started to turn around.
"Why?" I asked.
"You're going to phone your brother. Ask him how your dad is since he wrote the letter."
"You don't have to go back now. I'll probably get another letter next week."
"The only thing worse than bad news is no news and imagining the worst. You do know his phone number, don't you?"
"Yes."
"Then you're going to call him. If he's not at home, we'll keep trying, no matter how long it takes."
It was easy to yield to Phil's insistence. I needed to find out more. There was a four-hour difference in time zone and since it was early Saturday evening there, I hoped he would be home.
My sister-in-law answered the phone on the second ring.
"Hi. This is Ryan."
"Hold on Ryan, Bruce is just about to leave for the hospital. "BRUCE! IT'S FOR YOU! IT'S RYAN!"
I talked to my brother for almost half an hour and felt somewhat better after hearing what he had to say. My dad was still in the hospital on anti-depressants but responding to treatment. His court appearance had been cancelled and wouldn't be rescheduled until the psychiatrist submitted a statement to the court that he was well enough to stand trial. It was virtually impossible to predict how long that would take but it would likely be several months. By that time, I would probably be home.
Phil and I were mostly silent during the long drive up the canyon to the camp site. When we got there, we put the food and our laundry away, and he fixed supper but I wasn't hungry. Typical of him, he understood and was not insulted that I turned down the meal. He cleared up the meal and asked, "How're you doing, Ryan?"
"I'm okay. Tired. Emotionally drained. But okay."
"Want to go to bed, then?"
"Yes, if you don't mind."
Although it was a little early, we both crawled up into bed. He put his arm around me, held me, and gave me a tender kiss on the cheek.
"I needed that," I said. "Thanks.
As we laid there, his strength and compassion seemed to suffuse my mind. I so wanted to tell him I loved him but knew that was out of bounds. Instead, I said, "If it's all right with you, Phil, I'd like to just cuddle tonight ... no sex. Just hold me. Just be there for me."
"I'm here, Ryan. Let me know what you want or need and I'll be there."
I don't know how long we hugged each other but Phil was still awake when I finally fell asleep.
For the next three weeks, we worked in the day. Phil's concentration on the job was contagious and I forgot about my dad for most of the time. During our lunch breaks, Phil engaged me in conversation that also helped take my mind off the troubles my dad faced.
The periodic trips up the canyon to the waterfall pool became a time for fun and games. We would laugh and joke, often with lighthearted sexual innuendos. We sometimes engaged in teasing grab-ass or simply pressed our bodies together in a hug. Those times were such a stark contrast to the frustration and anxiety I suffered on our first visit to the pool.
Frequently, we would have oral sex in the evenings after supper or when we got into bed. My love for him grew as we worked, played, and lived together but it was during our intimate interludes that my love for Phil completely consumed me. I dreaded the time when we would part company and tried to convince myself to enjoy what I had while I could.
On Saturdays in town, at Phil's insistence, I called my brother. My dad was released from the psychiatric hospital and was being treated on an out-patient basis. Again with Phil's prodding, I called my dad. From what I could tell, he was much improved. His trial date had been indefinitely postponed until the psychiatrist notified the court that he was competent to stand trial. No one knew when that might be. After those phone conversations, Phil was particularly attentive and compassionate.
Except for diminishing but still lingering concern for my dad, life for me was extraordinarily good. My job was sometimes exhausting but I had developed a strong liking for the outdoors. The capstone of my happiness, of course, was living with the man of my dreams and sharing intimate and thoroughly gratifying moments with him.
For the next several weeks, my life with Phil fell into a routine: work, errands on Saturday, and sex nearly every night. Phil bought condoms and lube on one of our shopping trips; I knew what that meant. That night, he introduced me to the delights of being fucked. He was very careful, moved slowly, and constantly asked if I was okay. Because he was so considerate, I felt very little pain. When I felt his pubic hair on my ass cheeks, I couldn't believe that I had taken all of him. The pleasure was unique as he pistoned in and out. When he climaxed, it was as if we had been finally sealed to each other. However, I knew better than to say so. We had an agreement: no commitment. Still, I was certain that I loved him and never wanted to leave him.
He never let me fuck him. I was disappointed but had to honor his wishes. He seemed to enjoy it so much that I was more than happy to bottom for him and to exchange our seed orally. I think the happiest time for me was after sex when we would cuddle nakedly together. At those times, it seemed to me that we merged into a single entity -- not two men who liked each other and had sex with each other but a couple.
As September drew near, I began to dread the end of our relationship. I held on to my hopes but, at the same time, recognized that parting was likely.
My fears were realized one night in late August as we lay in bed after a particularly long and satisfying sex.
"Ryan, the job here will be over soon and I need to tell you something. First and most important, I've grown to respect and admire you more than any guy I've met. It's more than respect; I've come to love you. If I were gay, I couldn't imagine a better partner than you. But I'm not gay, Ryan. Up here in the wilderness, we've had some great sex. It may have started out as just sex but it came to mean more to me than that. I wish I could explain it. I've wrestled with my feelings for you a long time. I do love you, Ryan, but I have to be as honest with you as I've had to be with myself. I want a wife. And children. A family. I know I'll have to be true to my wife and give up men but a family is what I want most. I will always love you and will pray that you find someone to be your partner."
I didn't reply. I had expected it but it was a crushing blow. I had tried to prepare myself for it but, having heard what he said, I was at a total loss for words.
"Talk to me, Ryan. Are you upset? Angry?"
"Disappointed," I said. "I love you, Phil. I hoped that we could spend our lives together. But, of course, I knew that was not likely. This summer with you has been the happiest time of my life and I wanted it to last forever. But it's been clear from the beginning that there was to be no commitment. In spite of that, I love you and I can't imagine finding anyone to love as much as I love you."
"You will," he said as he kissed me on the cheek. "Maybe not right away but the right guy is out there for you. Can I give you a little advice?"
I nodded.
"Be patient. Watch for signs of interest in you. Discreetly show interest in guys you think would be a good partner. He's out there, Ryan, just as the right woman is out there somewhere for me. And most important of all, don't ever compare guys to me. We've had something special between us and that could distort your judgment. You're not going to find another me; what you find will be someone unique, someone you can love and share your life with."
"There will never be another Phil Yeager!" I countered.
"That's exactly my point! Don't limit your search! Find someone you can love as much or more than me."
"I'll try," I said unconvincingly.
"One more thing." he said. "This is probably completely unnecessary, knowing you as I do, but don't let yourself get trapped into the gay bar scene. With your good looks, you would be prey to guys whose only interest is a one-night stand. Instead, spend your time looking for someone with character, someone interested in a genuine relationship."
"Okay," I said.
He noticed my lack of enthusiasm, which he mistook for apathy, and said, "You're a fine young man. You deserve a partner who's worthy of you. There's a lot of sleazy predators in a gay bar. I know; I've been there. Be careful. Don't screw up your life."
We laid together silently for a few minutes before I said, "I won't lie to you, Phil. Leaving here -- leaving you -- will hurt. But I'll never forget your kindness, your friendship, and the special bond we've had. I hate losing you but, at the same time, I understand the reason. And I will always cherish the memory of this summer."
"I'll treasure the memory, too, Ryan. Who knows? Maybe when I'm married and making love to my wife, I'll be thinking of the time we spent together."
"Be sure not to call her Ryan," I joked.
We both laughed and then he said, "I'm proud of you. I dreaded having to say what I did because I was sure it would upset you. But you accepted it. Thank you for understanding."
Two weeks later, I had sex with the man I loved for the last time. It was bitter-sweet. I knew the next day we would be packing up the drilling equipment to be lifted out by helicopter and we would drive into Ketchikan. He would put the camper into storage until the following summer. We would board a plane for Seattle. He would fly to his home; I would fly to mine. I would never see him again. But I would always have what he gave me: the memory of a deliriously joyful summer.
EPILOG
For two years following my glorious summer in Alaska with Phil, I worked a couple of other jobs and saved enough to start college. I worked part-time while in college to make ends meet. As a Junior, I met Brad. That's another story to tell another time.
My dad recovered from his suicidal depression, stood trial, and served ten years in a minimum security prison. Just before being released, I told him about Brad and me. He was surprised, maybe disappointed, but believed me when I said I was very happy. When he was released, he stayed with us for a few weeks. That's yet another story to tell.
I lost track of Phil but frequently think of him and hope that he found as much happiness with a wife as I enjoy with Brad.
Posted: 02/06/09