By: Gerry Young

[To DREW in Yorkshire, England, my LOVE for his continued inspiration, encouragement, ceaseless instructions over my hardheadedness, and his determination to help me make this the best that I think it can be, even though I may not have followed all his suggestions to the letter.]

CHAPTER  TWO

[This chapter is totally new and has never been posted before.]

His eyes were closed.  “Ohhhhh, Tony, Tony, I love you,” he softly mumbled. 

He was lying on his right side, his neck cradled in the crook of a slightly furry arm, his breasts being caressed by a gentle masculine left hand.  As his ass ground back, swallowing more and more of the turgid tumescence, he winced slightly and sucked air through his teeth.  As the two pair of hips slowly drew apart, he moaned and begged in passionate need.  “Ummmmmmm … Yesss … Again! … Again! … Yesssss.”  Another sucked breath.  Another moan of desire and response, echoed by his backward thrust.

Ass and cock stimulated each other yet again, a bit more quickly.  Their urgency built.  The left hand eased down his hairless torso and smeared the leaking salty-sweet fluid over the head and shaft of his throbbing, jerking rod of hot, living flesh.  Both men shivered in sexual delight.

Faster and faster they moved together and then apart.  Faster yet, and deeper they plunged, onto and into.  Faster, louder breaths were accentuated with clipped, higher pitched, more desperate moans as they issued forth.

Going over the edge of their flight of passion, loud ecstatic cries filled the room and accompanied their simultaneous, climactic release.  His own, into the hand that was stroking him;  the other’s, into the very depths of his own body.  Again and still again.  Teeth bit into the crease of his neck at his shoulder, and then, immediately, lips sucked deep into his sweaty flesh, tinged with the weak saline flavor of chlorine.  Tension relaxed between them except for his sphincter and gluteal muscles, which tried to grip and retain his diminishing invader.  With labored breathing, they sank into the blackness of the silky, satin sheet beneath them, exhausted, gasping for more oxygen.

From his furry pillow he turned his head back in order to kiss his lover.  His eyes opened.

“Marc!   Wha… ?” Gerry cried, and with the sloppy sound as of a water-tight, air-tight seal being broken, he jerked his somewhat pained ass off Marc’s shit-speckled and cum-covered limp cock, and jumped from the bed.  “I thought you were …” he hesitated, frozen, for but a moment, fearing that he might hurt the feelings of his friend.

“Tony,” Marc finished the statement.  “I know, Ger;  you called his name in your sleep.”  The pain of rejection now covered Marc’s face.

Gerry sat in an upholstered armchair, oozing Marc’s ejaculate upon the seat.  He propped his elbows on his spread knees and cupped his forehead in his hands.  He was near tears, but held them back … thinking about the previous evening.

It had been fun.  The barbecue had been delicious.  Not having to drive anywhere, he had drunk more than his usual limit.  A sweet aromatic odor had faintly drifted around the pool and lounge area, though he had not indulged in the weed first hand.  He had allowed a total stranger to suck him off in the pool while he and Marc cuddled and necked and … kissed.

“Kissed?” he barely asked aloud.

“What was that, Ger?”

He raised his head and looked straight into Marc’s eyes.  “We kissed last night … you and I.”

“Several times.  Many times,” he corrected himself.  “I really enjoyed it.  I thought you did, too.”

Gerry’s head dropped, his gaze, unfocused, on the carpeted floor.  Silence reigned for a moment, and he finally looked back and said, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For …” he was searching for just the right thing to say.  Nothing seemed to express the turmoil he was feeling.  He shrugged.

“I loved him, too, Ger.”

They looked away from each other, eyes glistening with the beginnings of tears.

“That’s what the guys told me.  I was surprised.  I didn’t know.”

“No one at work knew.”

Gerry nodded his head in understanding.

“But I know this, Ger … that Tony wouldn’t want you to spend the rest of your life grieving for him.  He’d want you to have fun … move forward … find someone else to be with … to hold and be held … to love … and be loved.”

Again, they looked at each other, their emotions aching.  Marc beckoned with his arms held out.  A moment’s hesitation and Gerry flew into them, knocking Marc onto his back on the bed. 

They hugged.  They caressed.  It was slow.  It was tender and gentle.  Nothing was rushed.  It was comforting.  And it was sensual, stimulating.

Their excitement began to grow.  Their groins ground against each other.  Their tongues dueled for entrance into the other’s hungry mouth.  They kissed with passion, not with eyes closed, but gazing deeply into the other’s … soul?

Marc eased away and took in a deep, renewing breath.

“What?  What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.  Not a thing in the world is wrong right now.”  He smiled.

Gerry watched as Marc moved to the ever-popular sixty-nine position.  Both on their sides;  neither in a dominant position over the other.  “Let’s do it together;  we’re both ready,” Marc said, just before he plunged onto Gerry’s throbbing meat.

“AARRGGHH!” Gerry screamed in disgust as he jerked away.

“What?  What’d I do?  Scrape you?” Marc inquired with concern as he quickly withdrew.

“No!  What you were doing felt wonderful, but …”

“But what?”

“Your cock has shit all over it.  Ugh!”

“Oops,” Marc cringed.  “But that shit is yours, ya know!”  He grinned.

“Fuuuck!”

“That’s exactly what we were doing when you started to wake up.”

“Damn!”  Gerry buried his face in the sheet and growled to himself. 

Marc snorted a closed-mouth chuckle.

“It ain’t funny!” Gerry mumbled into the sheet.

“Yes it is.”

“No, it AIN’T!”

“Yes, it is.  Yes, it IS!  YES, IT IS!”

They were being playful.

“Grrrrrrrrrr,” Gerry growled again as he raised his head, a frown on his face, and he glared at Marc.  “Go wash it off, take a shower, or do something, and then get your ass back here.”

“I thought it was my cock you wanted?”

“Well … that, too!”

“Thanks.”  With a questioning raised eye-brow, a seductive look on his face, and after he slowly licked his lips, Marc asked, “ It’s yours, ya know -- the shit?  Why don’t you wash it off for me while we take a shower together?  Anyway, it’s more fun that way.”

Gerry grinned a mischievous smile.

As they headed to the bathroom, holding hands, Marc asked, “You ever use an enema to clean yourself out?”

Gerry nodded his head, but to the side, avoiding Marc’s gaze.  “Yes, but only once -- when I expected to be made love to.  But I didn’t expect to get fucked this morning,” he then said.

Marc’s Adam’s apple jumped as he swallowed deeply.  “Only once?”

“Yes.  Just that one time.”  Slowly he turned his head toward Marc, and there was a dreamy glow emanating from Gerry’s expression.  “Just before I left to spend that last night … with Tony,” he said softly, with bitter-sweet memories.

He inhaled a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, then very, very slowly exhaled as if it were one … last … final … release … which silently said … ‘Good-bye’, Tony.”

<><><> 

Marc was a godsend for Gerry, just when he needed it.  They partied;  they danced at Aunt Charlie’s;  they went sightseeing;  they did the unexpected. 

One Saturday night, around ten o’clock, at the Party Room Beer Bar, the crowd of young touristy hunks and more than a few old local trolls was overwhelming.  The place was packed tighter than the proverbial ‘can of sardines.’  It sounded as if everyone were screaming to be heard over the blaring of the Jukebox.

After walking in the side-door from the parking lot, Marc leaned into Gerry’s ear and yelled, “You wanna stay here a while, or go down to Aunt Charlie’s?”

“I’ll stay, if you will,” Gerry yelled back.  “How long will it take to get a coupla beers?”

Marc shrugged as he gripped Gerry by the waist while they slowly worked their way toward the bar.  Along with the stench of cigarette smoke, Gerry again recognized the sweet, pungent fragrance of another kind.

The dimly lit room was painted black, and it was difficult to see anything through the blue-gray haze of smoke – much less, the guys who were attached to the hands groping their crotches, rubbing their asses and tweaking their pecs.  To no avail, Gerry was trying to push, and keep, the tantalizing hands away.

“You can’t win, Gerry;  just go with the flow,” Marc yelled into his ear again.

“Aiyyyyy!” Gerry yelled in surprise, feeling a hand against his hardening crotch as it lowered his zipper.  At Marc’s suggestion that it would be ‘sexy,’ they’d both gone commando that evening, and instantly Gerry felt his own stiff cock being extracted from his tight Levi’s and then sucked into a kneeling stranger’s hot, moist mouth.

Marc looked down and started laughing.  “I’ve got one over here, too.  Just let it happen, buddy;  let it happen!  Enjoy yourself!” he yelled again.  “It’s like a Saturday night at the San Francisco baths – only without the baths!”

He laughed again, but the laugh was quickly interrupted by his own, “Ohhhhh … Ahhhhhhh … Ummmmmmmmmm.”  His hips pushed forward and deeper, his eyes rolled back into his head, and he sucked in a smoke-filled breath through his teeth.  He coughed.

The lines were slowly moving toward the bar.  The suck-ees and suck-ers were being pushed forward by the lusty throng.  It wasn’t long before Marc half-turned to Gerry, grabbed him in a hug and yelled, “Kiss me quick!  I’m … I’m … I’m … cum…mmm…minggggggg!”

Gerry was shocked – and overcome by lust at the same time!  Their teeth knocked against each other’s as their open mouths frantically sought to devour.  Marc’s spontaneous words and guttural sounds, his jerky climaxing reflexes, their tongues battling for entrance into each other, the hot, wet, sucking sensations on his throbbing cock, the whole sexual stimulation and atmosphere in the room, sent Gerry over the edge as he joined Marc’s release.  “Umph … ummmmm … Aiyyyyy yaiiiii yaiiiii yaiiii yaiii!” Gerry screamed as he thrust forward, again and again.  Never had he yelled like that during a climax.

Coming down from their sexual highs, Marc backed away a little and looked at Gerry and grinned.

“What?  What are you grinning about?” Gerry asked.

“Must’ve been a good one!  Wish I could get that kinda reaction outta ya,” he admitted.

Gerry felt his face flush, though it probably couldn’t be seen in the dim lighting;  he looked away, embarrassed.  “Sorry about that.”

“I’m not!  Thanks, Ger;  that was a treat.  Yum, yum,” said a guy as he came up from his kneeling position in front of Gerry.  “I love coming down to the Springs!  Just can’t seem to get enough to eat!”

“Me, too!  Thanks, Marc;  you’re delish!” said another guy rising from his kneeling position, wiping the spilled remnants from his own lips with the back of his hand.”

Quickly glancing at the two ‘strangers,’ and then at each other,” Gerry and Marc exclaimed in unison, “Ohhhhh, shit!”

It was Kris and Karl, a couple of guys from San Diego, who had arrived at the Rendezvous earlier the same day that Marc had arrived from Vegas.  They had all talked several times during the week – even played some water-volleyball … and other games … in the pool.  “War” had been a blast when Gerry climbed nude onto Marc’s shoulders, and Kris … also nude … got on Karl’s shoulders, and they battled and tugged and pulled and pushed each other, to see who could stay upright the longest.  The ‘fortunes of war’ were most enjoyable.

“Sooooo, you two really are a couple, huh?” Kris asked.

“Why you trying to hide it from everyone?” Karl jumped in before Marc or Gerry could reply.

“Well … uhhh …” Gerry stammered, looking here and there around the room, avoiding Marc’s eyes.

“Awwwww, come-on!  You’re lovers;  right?” asked Kris.

“Yeah!  Only lovers hug and kiss the way you guys just did,” Karl piped in.

“Yesssss, we ARE lovers …” Marc began.

With mouth hanging open and eyes wide as saucers, Gerry jerked his head back toward Marc, astonished at what he was hearing.

“… FORMER lovers …” Marc accentuated, “… of the same wonderful man who was just recent… who just recently … passed away,” he corrected himself.  “And now, we’re just very good, very close friends.”  With that said, he pulled Gerry to himself and gave him a loving peck on the lips.  “Aren’t we, Babe?”

“Yes, we are … real good friends,” Gerry answered, nestling his head against Marc’s shoulder.

“We’re so sorry, guys,” Karl said, his hands almost embracing Gerry and Marc’s shoulders.

“Yeah … so sorry,” Kris added.

Well … what more could be said at that somber moment amidst all the gaiety, the boisterous laughter, the loud music, and roaming hands and thrusting pelvises, but … “We’ll see ya back at the motel, guys.”

“Have fun,” Kris added to his friend’s remark.

“See ya, Kris.  See ya, Karl.”

“What’ll it be, fellas?” asked the throaty, thirty-something, shirtless bartender with sparkling studs through his ears and large steel rings through his tits and brass knuckles on the fingers of both hands.  This was one tough-looking dude not to be messed with!

“Uhhh …” Marc stammered, “Corona for me.”

“And you, sweet-cheeks … what’ll you have?”  The bartender winked and snickered!

“Uhhh … the same,” Gerry answered, quickly glancing at Marc.

After he snapped off the bottle-caps with his teeth, and put the drinks on the bar, he leaned across the bar on his elbows, polished his brass knuckles with his finger-tips a few times, and got right in Gerry’s face and asked, “Gonna be around here at closin’ time, Kiddo?”  Before Gerry could respond, he continued.  “I like what I see, and I usually get what I like.  Kiddo, I could make you feel reeeaaal good for a looonnng time.”  He puckered up his lips and gently blew a smoky kiss toward Gerry.

“Ooooooooooo, Curt’s gettin’ lucky tonight;  looks like he’s reeling in a live one,” another bartender yelled to the other three barmen, but it seemed that everyone in the Party Room had heard above the clamor and turned to look at Gerry.  All noise stopped except for the blaring Jukebox.

Marc simply said, “He’s with me!” while looking at the ruffian as he stepped in front of Gerry.  Laying down a five-dollar bill, he confidently went on to say, “… but know that I have connections in Vegas …”  With that, his eyes changed from gentle to a glaring, penetrating stare;  “… if you know what I mean.”  Instantly, he was in Shift Boss mode again – polite, but unfriendly and demanding.  “You lay one finger on my friend here, and you won’t live to regret it!”  He tapped the money with his index finger, and said, “Keep the change.”

At that, Marc and Gerry turned and walked away.

“Hey!” the burly barkeep yelled to Marc, “ I was just yankin’ his chain … Friend!  No harm meant.”

Without turning back, Marc raised his left hand, sending the ‘OK’ sign back to the bar.

Whoops and hollers filled the room as the loud conversations resumed.

Gerry rubbed his smoke-filled eyes.  “Let’s take these beers out to the back patio and get some fresh air.”

“Lead the way.  I’m right behind you,” Marc responded.

“Yeah, I can tell,” Gerry replied, grinning.  “I can feel ‘Little Markie” punchin’ my ass.”

“Just a reminder,” Marc said, right before giving Gerry’s ear a nibble.

<><><> 

Once beyond the mass of bodies and through the back door of the bar, Gerry noticed that the patio had a privacy fence that was approximately seven feet tall, thereby adequately shielding any outsiders from the sight of whatever wild, perverted (sic.) goings-on there might be.

A pale-green-leafed mesquite tree, about twenty to twenty-five feet tall, grew inside the fence.  All the lower branches had been trimmed right up to the pale-green bark of its sturdy trunk, so that people could walk, stand, or sit in it’s shade during the heat of the day.  It truly was a beautiful tree.  But after sunset, its lowest remaining branches served an entirely different daring purpose altogether, be it ever so occasional.

Maybe twenty people had gathered outside the smoky interior.  Marc and Gerry were standing, talking, at one side of the patio, and Kris and Karl were at the other side, standing under the tree.  The two couples saw each other and nodded politely.

“That sure was unexpected – what they did,” Gerry said with a slight embarrassed expression on his face.

“But it was fun,” Marc countered, grinning ear to ear.  “Too bad they’re leaving tomorrow morning.

“You mean you want a threesome with them?

A squinty-eyed response followed.  “I wasn’t thinking that small.”

It took Gerry only a few seconds to grasp what Marc had insinuated.  “Oh.  You mean a foursome?”  Marc nodded and smiled.  “With me?”  Marc nodded again, his open-mouthed grin, now accompanied by his wriggling eyebrows, and his tongue moistening his dry lips.  “Well … uhhh … I don’t know if I could do that, Marc.”

“You mean you let Kris give you a blow-job right in the middle of a room with fifty, maybe sixty guys in it, and you wouldn’t even consider a measly little ol’ foursome?  Huh?  What are you?  An exhibitionist?” Marc teased.

“That’s not fair, and you know it!  I was taken advantage of, and didn’t even expect it!” Gerry shot back, pretending to be an innocent, virginal victim.

They both began laughing like a couple of school kids, when Gerry queried, “What’s going on over there?”

Most of the patio crowd had gathered ‘round the ol’ Mesquite tree, and Gerry and Marc went to join them and see what all the excitement was about.  The crowd was shouting encouraging remarks to someone for something.  It wasn’t long before they found out.

One guy – it looked like Karl – had his back to them, and above and beyond his head, they could see, bent at the knees, a pair of legs draped over one of the branches.  And a pair of arms wrapped around the standing guy’s ass.

Marc edged his way through the crowd to get a better look at the two guys;  Gerry was right behind him.  And then they saw … both guys were shirtless but with their stiff cocks sticking out of their jeans.  Karl, standing, was sucking on Kris, who was hanging, upside-down, sixty-nine-ing with Karl.

“Oh, shit!  I don’t believe it,” Gerry exclaimed.

Those two are wild!” exclaimed Marc.  “Go for it, guys,” he yelled his lusty encouragement.  Gerry swatted Marc’s nearest arm.

The scene was exciting, vulgar, stimulating … even inciting fear that Kris would lose his concentration and fall.  Several stiff cocks suddenly appeared outside their normal confinement and were immediately grasped, tugged, stroked, jacked by familiar and/or strange hands;  a few were even being worshipped by hungry, kneeling supplicants.  The bare-chested suckers had scintillating hands and tongues touching, rubbing, swabbing, licking their naked backs, sides and sweaty armpits.  

An orgy was in the making as word spread and more and more bodies flooded from the bar into the open-air patio.

Marc’s hand eased its way inside the back of Gerry’s jeans and down as far as he could reach, teasing, tickling, and fingering the sweaty crack between his ex-subordinate’s flexing ass-cheeks.

Gerry reflexively sucked in a breath of air and turned to hug his tempter.  Their hard, throbbing mounds crushed against each other.  Words were no longer necessary to convey their thoughts and desires – a deeper connection was growing as their tongues once again battled for entrance.  Each knew what the other wanted and needed.

As he withdrew his hand from the sweaty nether region, Marc slid his tongue from Gerry’s succulent lips, across his 4711-Cologne-flavored cheek, licked his ear, and whispered, “Let’s go back to the motel, Hot Stuff!  I’m horny.”

<><><> 

Every Sunday morning, Wendell and Bruno hosted Brunch for their guests  beginning with Bloody Marys, Alka-Seltzer, or coffee, then continuing with Eggs Benedict with choice of bacon, ham, or spicy patty-sausage, and ending with Champagne and strawberries!

Wendell had wheeled out four orders on his little flowery teacart, and was placing the different plates, cups, and glasses on the table.

“What a perfect way to end a perfect week,” Karl proclaimed.

“Yes, it looks lovely, Wendell;  especially that creamy Hollandaise Sauce,” agreed Kris.

“I whipped up a little special batch of home-made cream and mixed it with yours,” Wendell good-naturedly quipped as he fast and furiously fisted an invisible cock in front of his white leather codpiece.

“Oh, goodie!” Kris rather effeminately squealed before noisily slurping his tongue across his lips.  “Just can’t wait to let it ooze into my mouth, and slowly slip across my tongue, and slide down my throat!”

Karl clobbered him with a swat to his arm, glaring at him in reproach – but only for a moment.  They gave each other a quick little peck on the lips as if to ‘make up.’

“Lovers’ quarrels,” Marc smirked!

But what’s with all the white leather?” Karl asked.  “You usually wear nothing but black.”

Before he could answer, Marc slapped Wendell on the ass … tenderly, of course … and said, “The Munchkin wears nothing but white on Sundays.  Never has, as long as I’ve been coming down here.”

“But why white on Sunday?” Gerry piped in.

“White … gentlemen … is the color of purity, and Sunday is the day of purity,” Wendell explained.  A lovely, innocent radiance surrounded his demure stature -- his hands clasped together over his heart, his right shoulder thrust forward, his head cocked over that shoulder, and his eyes gazing blissfully toward the heavens. 

And the white codpiece jerked up and down!

That, alone, brought everyone at the patio table into hysterical laughter, once Marc had pointed it out.

“Hmph,” the little guy snorted in mock seriousness as he turned away and hastily retreated with teacart to the serving table near the Office.

“He’s so cute,”  “… so adorable,”  “… so funny,” remarked the group at the table, as their hilarity began to die down. 

“Yes, but he’s the perfect host,” Marc reaffirmed, an amiable smile across his face.

“Hear!  Hear!” approved each of the four, raising and clinking their Champagne flutes together.

“He can host my face any time and any way he wants to!” Kris admitted.

Another swat from Karl. 

While adjusting his own cock for more comfort, Kris ginned at Karl.  “Keep that up, sweetheart,” he whispered to his lover, “and we’ll have to pay for an extra afternoon!”

“Better not let Bruno hear ya say that,” Marc cautioned Kris for his comment about Wendell.

“Why not?” chorused the other three in surprise.

“Well …” Marc began;  “I’ve known them long enough to know that … that …”

He looked at Gerry for a moment and then back toward, but above and beyond Karl and Kris … a distant, far-away look in his eyes;  a deeper, slower, more serious voice continued. 

“… that they’re … true … to each other – and that they don’t get sexually involved … with … any … of their guests at all.”  He then looked down and began toying with the food on his plate.

The three had noticed the emotional change in Marc’s attitude and nervously glanced back and forth at each other for a moment.

Gerry reached over and placed a hand on his thigh.  “You okay, Marc?”

“Yeah,” he softly replied, and then after a deep sigh, looked at their two new friends and added, “Yeah.  I’m fine.”  Then, looking at Gerry, he continued, “Just reminiscing a bit, I guess.”

Gerry squeezed his thigh and nodded in understanding.  Marc placed his hand on top of Gerry’s and returned the squeeze. 

These silent actions did not go unnoticed by either Kris or Karl, as they were all seated at a glass-top table.  They looked at each other, smiled, and nodded, also.

“It’s strange but so wonderful …” Marc said to no one in particular, while breaking the comfortable silence, “… that true friends and true lovers – no matter how long or how short the relationship has been – seem … at times … to be able to know what the other is thinking or feeling, without anything being spoken.”  The three looked at him and nodded, smiling.

As a unit, all four men reached out and took the hands of the guys on either side.  They were joined together as in a circle.  Kris and Karl leaned toward each other and kissed.  And Marc and Gerry, likewise, leaned toward each other and kissed. 

This was as close to the foursome that he had hinted to Gerry about earlier, that they would ever come.  Assuredly, it was better this way. 

Friends, now … but no longer bar-room tricks.

<><><> 

Monday morning found Gerry and Mark in hiking boots, hiking shorts, what is now called ‘wife-beater’ undershirts, and straw hats.  Slung over their shoulders were canteens of water, and they both carried walking sticks, the purpose of which, Gerry would later discover.  Mark, the bigger and stronger of the two, though not by much, was also wearing a back-pack filled with …

“God only knows what all you’ve got in there,” Gerry grudgingly said.  “Must be enough to supply a whole Boy Scout Troop!”

“Don’t you wish?” Marc chuckled.  “Not quite!  But you’ll find out when we get to the falls.”

He was referring to the Tahquitz Falls he had mentioned after Gerry picked him up at the Palm Springs Airport.  And it had taken him a full week to talk Gerry into agreeing to the early morning hike.

They hadn’t gone far up the twenty-five to thirty degree incline, when Gerry asked, “How long till we get there?  I’m already startin’ to sweat!”  He took a drag off his cigarette, relishing the slight rush it gave him.

The desert sun had only been up for about an hour, and it was still in the low seventies;  later in the day, it was forecast to be around a hundred and twelve degrees.  Earlier, Marc had said that the water would be refreshingly cool.

“You really are out of shape, kiddo.  We gotta get you involved in some regular exercise programs, and you’ve gotta stop smokin’ those fuckin’ coffin tacks.  And, by the way …” he quickly added before Gerry could respond, “… don’t flick your butt just anywhere;  snuff it out in the ground, stick it in your pocket, and throw it away later … after we get back to the motel.”

“Okay.  Okay,” replied a disgruntled Gerry.

Marc was enthusiastic about the hike and reaching the pool at the bottom of the falls, but Gerry felt differently.

“Yeah, I know.  I know.  But how long’s it gonna take to get there?”

“Usually, about an hour to an hour-and-a-half,” he answered and then quickly changed the subject.  “There are a coupla good gyms here in Palm Springs;  we could check …”

Gerry cut him off.  “I’ve been to gyms a few times and just can’t get into all that pullin’, pushin’, liftin’, stretchin’, runnin’, and stuff.”

“Go with somebody else;  get a buddy or a trainer if you can.  You’ll notice a big …”

“Nahhhhh,” he cut him off again.  “Years ago – in high school – I loved gymnastics, acrobatics, tumbling … that sorta stuff, but …”

Now it was Marc’s turn to do the interrupting.  “Really?  That’s fantastic!” 

“Yeah, really, but I haven’t done anything like that … like I said … in years!”

“In your driving around town before I got here, did you notice a place on the main road in Cathedral City, called, ‘Jumping Jack’s Jymnastics’ … with a ‘J’?”

“Yeah, but with a name like that, it’s gotta be a little kids’ day care center.  Why ya ask?”

“Well, the last time I was down here, I actually met Jumpin’ Jack … at Aunt Charlie’s, of all places,” he added.  “He told me that during the day, his mother does take care of some kids there while their parents work, but at night, he’s open for gymnasts and adults who feel the same way about gyms as you do.”

Gerry showed some interest but filed it away for the future.  He hadn’t yet decided what he wanted to do or where he wanted to go – stay in the desert, or move on to … wherever.  Besides, he was sweating more and more, and frequently planing it off his arms.

“Hold up a few.  Let’s take a little break;  I need a breather,” Gerry pleaded.

“Good idea.”

Gerry turned around to look behind them.

“Whoa!” he exclaimed.  “I didn’t realize we’d come so far.”

“Yeeeeeppp,” Mark drew out his response, sounding like an old cowboy movie star.

The view was spectacular!  The dry desert mountain abounded with native plant life – Gerry hadn’t taken the time to notice the natural beauty around them until this very moment.  Ocotillos, Yuccas, Creosote Bushes, and many kinds of prickly Cactus dotted the Delta/fan-shaped alluvium spreading out from the steep San Jacinto canyons toward the desert floor itself.  The good-sized village resort of Palm Springs appeared in the distance as a luscious respite, an oasis of verdure in an arid valley surrounded by ancient, dried-out mountains.  But those same mountains concealed tiny havens of crystal-clear, life-giving water, and far below their feet were massive subterranean lakes, yet untapped.

“It’s beautiful, Marc;  so peaceful;  almost holy.”  He started to sit on a small boulder just off the unbeaten trail.

“Careful, there, buddy,” Marc cautioned him, tapping the rock with his walking stick and then poking around in its shadow.  “Always check where you’re going to sit;  the creatures love to hide in the little bit of shade they can find around rocks and boulders.”

“Creatures?  What kind of creatures?” Gerry asked, jumping up from his crouching position and back onto the relatively clear path.

“Oh, nothing to really be afraid of;  we might see a rattlesnake or two, maybe a sidewinder, a few scorpions, tarantulas, some small iguanas – they don’t grow as big here as they do down in Mexico – and the usual pesky beetles, ants, and honey bees.”

Ye gods!” Gerry exclaimed.  “Why didn’t you tell me about all those … things … before we started out this morning?  I wouldn’t have come!”

“That’s exactly the reason I didn’t say anything, shithead!”  He chuckled;   Gerry grumbled! 

“But listen, Ger – basically, they’re more afraid of you, than you are of them.  Just watch out for them, respect their right to be here, don’t threaten them, and they’ll let you enjoy the land that’s been their home since time immemorial.

“Yeah!  Right!”

<><><> 

The angle of ascent became a little steeper, and about a half-hour later, the two men bridged a rocky outcrop – poking around for critters, of course – and Marc suddenly held up a hand, quieting and stopping Gerry from any further movement;  he put his finger in front of his lips, telling him not to say anything.  Then he slowly pointed forward.

There, at the edge of the pool beneath the falls, were four Bighorn Sheep, drinking from the water.  First, one, then another, and then again, the other two looked up and around, sniffing the air in search of what must have been the source of the scent of humans.  Seeing the two figures, they stood motionless, apparently not even breathing, for the few seconds before they bounded up the steep, rocky crags.  As sure-footed as Tibetan or Andean mountain goats, they fled away from what might have been perceived as danger.  Then at a safe distance, they rested … and looked back at their ‘wild-life’.

“Oh, my God, Marc;  they’re beautiful!” Gerry exclaimed, barely above a reverential whisper.

“Yeeeeeppp,” Marc agreed once again.  “That, they are.”

“And the pool.  And the falls – they must be a hundred-and-fifty feet straight up!” he exclaimed aloud, stretching his neck back, trying to see the top.  Then, looking around, he excitedly remarked, “And there’s … uhhh … Jane Wyatt’s boulder you said she dived off of, in the scene from Lost Horizons!  It does look kinda familiar.”

Marc laughed.  “You sound like you really do like it up here, kiddo.”

“I do.  I do”

Marc removed his backpack, and gently dropped it at the rocky edge of the pool.  “You keep looking up at the top of the falls, and you’re gonna get a stiff neck.”

“I don’t care!” Gerry retorted.  “It’ll be worth it!”

“Talking about something being worth it,” Marc teasingly said, rather seductively, “I’ve got something else I wanna show you.”  He wiggled his hips back and forth a couple of times.

Gerry glared toward Marc’s crotch and replied in kind.  “I’ve already seen that ol’ thing.”

“OOOOOOO!  That wasn’t nice.  You’re gonna pay for that, you old cocksucker, you!” he teased.  With that, he lunged at Gerry, throwing the pair of them to the rocky ground.

“Ouch!  Ow!” moaned Gerry, with rocks and pebbles beneath his back and his butt.  The clothes he wore were doing little to help his slight pain.

“Serves you right … bitch!”

“Bitch? … I ain’t nobody’s bitch!” Gerry struggled to get away from his attacker, not knowing where this was going.

“Yeah!” Marc growled in fake anger.  “You’re my bitch … while we’re up here!  Now I gotcha where I wantcha!  You’re mine!”

Gerry was beginning to be afraid of Marc’s ulterior motives.  He struggled even harder, but all Marc did was to grab Gerry’s wrists, stretch his arms out, and pin him down.  “Let me go, Marc.  Let me up.  You’re hurting me,” he begged, louder and louder.

By now, Marc had straddled Gerry’s hips, his ass resting on Gerry’s crotch and their faces only inches apart.  “Beg all you want, Ger;  scream;  holler;  yell;  plead!  Nobody’ll hear ya!  We’re all alone,” he said with a devilish glint in his eye.  He then narrowed the distances between them, pressing their chests together, and kissed him, a little rough at first, but quickly softening to a lover’s tender touch.

He stretched his legs straight out back and atop Gerry’s legs.  He released his firm grip on Gerry’s wrists.

Gerry relaxed a bit, and Marc’s tongue entered the hot, moist cavern.

“Mmmmmmm,” they both moaned, as Gerry moved his now-free arms around Marc’s back, and hugged tightly.  He realized that Marc had been playing with him.  Quickly he maneuvered them so that he, Gerry, was on top of Marc.  His hardening cock ached from its ‘enclothed’ entrapment.

Releasing their probing kiss, Gerry sat back, atop Marc’s now throbbing crotch, and said, “Let’s get outta these things.”

Quickly they stood, each in a hurry to rid himself of his material confinement … but for different reasons.

First off, came their shoes, then their socks;  next, their wife-beaters;  and finally, their hiking shorts.  They had both gone commando, and their man-tools were standing tall with erotic excitement.

Gerry rushed to Marc and hugged him, grinding their erections together, but before they could kiss once more, Marc pushed Gerry’s shoulders back and held him firm, their groins still being ‘neighborly’. 

“How well do you swim, Ger?  I mean, how long can you hold your breath?”

Gerry was stunned at the question – it had nothing to do with love-making … or even sex!  At least he didn’t think so.  But suddenly, a picture formed in his brain ... and he grinned.  “I don’t know how long I can hold my breath … under water! … but I guess we’re gonna find out, aren’t we?”

“Yeeeeeppp.”  He took Gerry’s hand and led him toward the center of the pool.  “Now when we get out here in the deepest part,” he said as they began to dog-paddle, “we’ll face each other and take deep breaths.  Then you lean to your right in the water and I’ll lean to my right;  we’ll wrap our arms around each other, and then sixty-nine under water!  It’s fantastic;  I think you’ll love it.”

Gerry grinned.  “Sounds like fun to me.”

“Oh, it is!  And the wonderful part about the whole thing is, you can twist around and around and around while holding and sucking each other, or we can tumble head-over-heels … but that takes a lot of practice.”

“Where’d you learn how to do this, Marc?”

“That’s a long story;  I’ll tell you about it later.  But right now, there’s just nature and us.  And while we’re playing, if you close your eyes, it gets to where there’s no up or down, no top or bottom.  It’s what I think weightlessness would be like.  Ya ready?”

“Yeah!  Let’s go for it!

They both took deep, deep breaths, leaned into the water, and soon were sucking and turning, and sucking and twisting, and sucking and tumbling, and sucking and …

choking and coughing!

Fighting to get to where they could stand and breathe at the same time, they huffed and they puffed and they sucked in air and spit out water.

“That … was … fan … fuckin’ … tastic!” Gerry managed to verbalize between laborious gasps.  Marc didn’t say a thing;  he just motioned for Gerry to follow him out of the water, coughing all the way.

Soon, they were sitting on smooth stones, their feet dangling in the water, their breathing becoming more and more regular.

“Thank you, Marc,” Gerry said, laying his head on Marc’s shoulder, and wrapping his arm around Marc’s waist.

“For what, Babe?”

“For talking me into coming up here with you today.”

“You’re welcome, Ger.  But save your thanks for later.  That was just a test.”

“Huh?  Wha…?”  Gerry pulled away, giving Marc a questioning look.  “Whadaya mean, ‘a test’?”

“I just wanted to see how long you could hold your breath.”

“Why?”

Marc reached around Gerry and pulled him closer to himself.  The sides of their faces were almost touching.  He pointed down into the water.

“Can you see that big dark spot at the bottom of the boulder?”

“Yeah.  Sorta.  I guess.  So?”

“That’s not just a dark spot.  It’s a hole in the rock … like a tunnel … and …”

“Oh, no!  You ain’t getting’ me in there!  No sir-eee, bob!  I ain’t going’ down there at all!”  Gerry pulled away and was about to turn and go … somewhere when he felt Marc grab his ankle and stop him.

“Awww, c’mon, Ger.  I’ve been in there myself, Babe.  There’s nothing to be afraid of.  You can do it.  I know you can.”

“In where?” Gerry asked.

“There’s a cave inside the mountain … plenty of air from the cracks in the boulders … nice, faint light coming through the water.  You’ll love it!”

“I … don’t … know.”  Gerry hemmed and hawed.

“C’mon, Ger, trust me.  Trust me!” Marc pleaded.  “We can even have lunch in there.  What could be more romantic?  Our own totally private dining room!  Whadaya say, huh?  Whadaya say?”

By the end of his little speech, Marc was pleading in desperation.  What else could Gerry say, but, “Lunch?  Under water?  Through a tunnel?  In a cave?”

Marc silently nodded his head, his hands together beneath his chin as if in prayer, his eyes like a sad puppy dog’s.

“All right.  All right.  Anything for you, Markie, baby.”

Quickly, Marc jumped up and dashed to where they had shed their clothes.  He picked them up and carried them to where he had dropped his backpack and knelt beside it.  He tossed the two canteens to Gerry, saying, “Fill’em up.  It’s good clean fresh water.”

As Gerry obediently followed the order, Marc began unloading things from the backpack – a black rubber tube about three-feet-long and six inches thick with clips of some kind on each end;  a foot-square cellophane package of something;  a small bicycle-tire pump;  two sandwiches, also wrapped in cellophane;  and two bananas.  AND a smaller Navy-issued back-pack, into which went everything he’d taken from the larger one, except for the rubber tube.

“What are you doing?” Gerry asked as he brought the canteens back to Marc.

“You’ll see,” he replied as he stuffed their clothes inside the larger pack and buckled it closed.  “We’ll put it over here and cover it with some large rocks so that in the unlikely chance that someone else comes up here, they won’t steal our clothes.”

A few minutes later, the pack was completely camouflaged with stones and rocks and dried brush and twigs.

“Hand me the canteens.”  Gerry obeyed, still uncertain about what was going on.

Marc hung both canteen-straps around his neck and he lengthened the straps so that they hung to his crotch.

“Get the rubber tube for me.”  Again Gerry obeyed.

“I could get used to this,” Marc said, grinning at Gerry.  “I give an order, and you hop to it!  Mmmmmmm.  I like your attitude, Mister!”

“Don’t press your luck, buddy,”  Gerry shot back.  “I can stop any time!  I just want to know what the hell you’re doing.”

Marc puckered up and blew him a kiss.  “I’m almost finished,” he said, pulling the canteens to either side of his hips.  “Now … hand me the rubber tube.”

Once more, Gerry obeyed.  “Good boy,” Marc said as he slung the tube around the back of his own waist, and on top of the canteen straps.  He grabbed it with his free hand as it came around front, and fastened the clips together like a belt, securing the canteens at his sides.

“And finally, I want you to walk down into the water with the smaller back pack … slowly lower it into the water, forcing the air out from around the things in it … be careful not to let any water inside … and just before the water reaches the top … that’s it! …  close it … and tightly wrap the two cords around it, top-to-bottom.”  Gerry was following the instructions as Marc gave them.

“Good.  Now, as I hold it, stick your arms out back and slip them through the shoulder straps, and strap it on like I did the larger pack earlier.”

Marc then walked into the water and hugged Gerry.  “Remember … you’ll do fine.  Just take a deep breath … and follow me.  Ya ready?”

Gerry gave a deep sigh, nervously nodded his head, and said, “As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”

“Good boy.  Now … on the count of three, take a deep breath and … dive!” he pointed into the water.  “One … two … three!”

<><><> 

In less that two minutes, they had dived down about ten feet, had swum through the narrow tunnel, and had come up into the cavern inside the mountain.  A soft, eerie light pervaded everywhere from the shimmering surface.  A small but adequate ‘beach’ awaited their footprints as they stood upright and walked out of the water.

Off came the backpack;  off came the black tube which Marc quickly unzipped and unrolled.  Inside were towels and a small blanket.  Quickly they toweled each other dry, briefly stopping now and then for a kiss or a grope or a quick suck or a tickle or a little hug.

“Okay,” Gerry began;  “what else do you have in your little bag of tricks?”

“Ohhhhh, let’s see,” Marc answered as he opened the backpack.  “We’ll need this.”  He pulled out the tire pump.  ‘Then, we’ll need this.”  He pulled out the square cellophane bag and opened it.  Out came a folded up clear plastic pool-float that needed blowing up.  He attached the pump to the little air tube on it, handed it to Gerry and said, “Start pumpin’!”

Immediately, Gerry dropped the flat plastic float and the tire pump, fisted his cock, and began pumping!

“Not that, you nitwit!  I can get that up faster than you, anyway.” 

They both broke into laughter, with the sound echoing off the walls of the cave.  Three or four bats began flying around, but were soon settled in their hanging positions above. 

Eventually the float was engorged with air, and Marc spread out the blanket on top, and lay on his back, opening his arms to Gerry.

“Come’ere, Babe;  lay down on my chest;  we need to get warm.”

Gerry didn’t hesitate to comply.  Soon they were body-to-body.  Marc ground his swelling tumescence into Gerry’s flaccid crotch.  His arms wrapped around his ex-subordinate, and his hands roamed and rubbed across Gerry’s taut, hairless back and ass cheeks;  he gently blew against the damp hair on the back of Gerry’s head.

But no response came from the man on top;  he simply lay there, his head resting on Marc’s shoulder and neck, his face turned away from his ex-boss.

Several silent minutes passed.  Gerry could feel his own heartbeat, and he could feel Marc’s.  He slowed his breathing down a bit, and soon they were synchronized – as Marc inhaled, Gerry exhaled;  as Marc exhaled, Gerry inhaled.  Their hearts beat together as one.  “This is nice,” Gerry whispered.  Even his soft, faint words bounced off the stone walls of their private place.

“What’s wrong, Ger?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Babe.”  He lifted up his head, braced himself with his hands on the dirt floor on either side of the blanket-covered float, gently kissed Marc’s lips, raised his head further, and looked into Marc’s eyes.  “Absolutely nothing is wrong.  I’m just very … very happy right now.  I don’t think I’ve ever been so at peace in all my life.”

Marc smiled … and listened.

“I’ve sorta fallen in love with the desert … with everything around here.  It’s clean.  It’s fresh.  It’s beautiful.  The little towns I’ve driven through are neat and manicured;  the flowers and citrus and date palms – things I’m not used to – are gorgeous;  all the local people I’ve met in the bars, the shops, the restaurants, even the filling stations, are friendly;  nobody seems to be in a hurry.  And the wildlife around here – I can’t get over the feeling I had when we saw those Longhorn Sheep!  Wow!  And even though the idea of the snakes and tarantulas and other creepy-crawlies doesn’t really turn me on, I can live with’em.”  And then he added, “Ya know?  I think I’m talking myself into something.”

“What’s that?” Marc asked with a huge smile.

“I think I’ve just decided that I want to live here … maybe for the rest of my life.  This is the closest I’ve ever been to paradise on earth.”

Marc pulled him down, chest-to-chest again, and kissed him as he ground their cocks together once more.

Breaking the kiss, Gerry continued;  “Marc … let’s not have sex here in this place.”

“Why not, Ger?”

“Oh … I don’t know … it just seems … holy … somehow.  Sacred!”  He sat up, sitting atop Marc’s crotch, which by now had returned to its natural flaccid state, and looked around at the walls of the cave.  “I don’t know why … I don’t know how … but I’m getting pictures in my head of an ancient people ... dancing around a fire ... out by the pool.  I can even hear the drums.  And then I ‘see’ women and children huddled in here … and they’re crying and wailing.  And …”

“Just how much do you know about the local Cahuilla Indians around here, Ger?” Marc asked with rising curiosity.

“Nothing, really.  Why?”

Marc then sat up, resting on his elbows behind him.  “I wanna tell you a story … a legend, really.  But get up, just a minute, and let me sit up.  We can eat our lunch at the same time, if that’s okay with you?”

“Sure.”

Marc retrieved the sandwiches, bananas, and canteens from the backpack Gerry had brought in.  Soon they were eating, and Marc began.

“Several years ago, when I was here for a visit, I met an Indian fellow who brought me up to the falls.  He talked me into swimming into here, this cave, and right here, in this very spot,” he tapped the dirt floor between their outstretched legs, “he told me one of the Cahuilla legends that has been passed down over the centuries.

“It seems that many, many years ago, a band of the Cahuilla Indians lived in what is now known as Desert Hot Springs, not far to the north of Palm Springs. 

“The women and children were the searchers and gatherers, and one day, they were here on this mountain, gathering yucca roots for soap, prickly pears for food, agave leaves for medicine, and mesquite for fire-wood.

“While they were gone, a large war party of marauding Indians came to their village and killed all their men.  The women here on the mountain could see the smoke from their burning teepees and hogans across the desert.

“Seeing the rising dust kicked up by the approaching ponies, the women and children came up here to hide.  Then, seeing the men coming up the mountain, they gathered the children together and swam into this cave.

“The women and teen-aged boys and girls were safe, but the few little ones perished from drowning.

“And since that time, this cave has been a very sacred place to the Cahuillas.” 

He had finished the tale.  Gerry slowly shook his head side-to-side … speechless.  Wondering.

They decided to return to the world of the ‘pale face’.

They pressed the air out of the float, rolled it up, and as everything was being returned to the backpack, even the banana peels and the cellophane from the sandwiches, they talked.

“So … you say that you want to live here full-time, huh?”

“Yeah … and something else, Marc.

“What’s that, Babe?”

“I think I’m falling in love with you.”

“Don’t!  Don’t, Ger.  Don’t fall in love with me.”

Gerry was aghast.  His mouth fell open, and then he said, “But I thought you felt …”

“I do love you, Ger.  The sex is great.  But I’m not in love with you;  I can’t be.”

“Why not?” Gerry blurted out.

“Would you move back to Vegas with me?”

“Yes, of course … if you wanted me to.”  He was right on the verge of bawling.

Marc held his hands out.  They embraced, their nakedness touching without stimulation.

“That wouldn’t be fair to you, Babe.  You love it here;  you want to live here;  and I think you belong here.  I love Vegas;  and I don’t think I could ever move away.  Vegas is my life.”

“But …”

“Shhhhhhh.  You’ll find someone, or someone will find you, and you’ll be perfect with each other.”

“But …”

Marc shook his head side-to-side and placed his finger over Gerry’s lips.  “And until that time comes, we can visit each other, have some great romps in the hay, have fun with each other.  But there can’t be more than that, Ger.  And remember … we’ll always have one common bond, no matter what.”

Gerry looked at him questioningly, and Marc answered with only one word …

“Tony.”

They left behind, in the dirt, only their footprints.

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