In the following story, all of the characters are totally fictive and the setting is real. For whomever it would be illegal, immoral or prohibited for any other reason whatsoever to read a story about love between two young men is kindly requested to refrain from continuing. A free picture album illustrating this story (pdf) is available upon request at marin.giustinian@laposte.net. Please remember to help Nifty stay online by sending your contribution. This being said, I hope you enjoy the tale.
HEADING HOME
by Marin Giustinian
Part Two : Outer Hebrides, Scotland, 1966
I startled when Brendan shook my shoulder, saying, "Wake up, my fair fellow. We've a ferry to take!"
I jumped out of bed, my morning wood bouncing as I hurried to the bathroom.
The full Scottish breakfast was wonderful. We threw our stuff back in the car and arrived just in time to hoist the car aboard for our two hour crossing over to the islands.
In spite of the cold, I stayed outside as long as I could. The water was calm as we sped ahead. Little by little the islands appeared. I felt like I was going to be out of this world in both the meaning of the expression!
It was just a short half-hour drive from Lochmaddy to Sollas, where the cottage awaited us.
"You'll see, Andrew, it's so remote, you'll feel like..."
I interrupted his sentence laughing, "I'm out of this world!"
"That's exactly it!"
Then there it was. It looked like a little house in a story book. Just above the beach, on dry ground, stood the solid, little fisherman's cottage with its thatched roof. It was impossible to tell how old it was. The thick stone walls were freshly whitewashed making the place look new, but the little storage hut in the yard was weathered to the bare stone. There was just a single chimney pot at one end and facing opposite the water, there were only one window and one door.
"Tell me Brendan, does the cottage have a name? It must! It's so... I don't know how to put it... so welcoming, safe and sturdy looking."
"Not really... Maybe before we leave you can give it a name."
"I'll think about it!"
It was surprisingly dry inside and despite the tiny window, there was ample light inside.
"I'm going to light a fire. It takes some time and a lot of heat to warm up the stone walls. Come with me to the shed. You'll see where I store the wood and coal."
As the fire roared in the chimney, we tidied up the best we could. Our little heaven was starting to look like home.
"Is the naked Christ by the fireplace over there your inspiration for the play we're working on, Brendan?" I asked as I unhooked it and cleaned off the dust.
It was beautiful beyond words. I guess it was because of being close to the fire that it was warm as I held it gently in my hand, my fingers wrapped around it body.
"It's identical to the one we have in the play, but feels more alive," I said, rubbing it.
"The one in the play is a resin-cast replica I had made in Edinburgh. This is the original. I'll tell you all about it later after dinner."
He explained to me how to use the indoor pump by the sink and the correct usage of the lidded bucket, called a slop jar, for our toilet needs.
"It's fine to pee in, but for sitting-down matters, you take it, filled with water to the shed."
Sounded simple enough!
We aired out the covers, fluffed the duvet, took the sheets and pillows out of the cedar chest and made the bed. The temperature was already close to comfortable.
"I hope you don't mind sharing such a narrow bed, Andrew. That way we'll keep each other warm during the night."
"I don't mind at all! I'll try to be still."
"Just remember, it's a part of the deal to cuddle!"
I thought I'd die on the spot. All I could do was nod my approval... trying not to look too enthusiastic.
We fixed a quick lunch. It was nice and warm by the fire.
"Here, when the weather's clear we have to take advantage of it, because a clear sky is really rare! How would you like to go for a walk down on the beach later on?"
"Let's go now!"
"After dishes!"
The smell of the sea enthralls me. I breathed in the air as if I could drink it. Edinburgh is so sooty ; here everything was clean, and the sand, white as snow. I couldn't help running. I felt so free with all the space around me, over me, inside me too!
When I jogged up to Brendan again, he said to me that I looked like a young colt as I ran.
"You are very handsome, Andrew... a joy to look at. I hope you don't mind me looking at you so much. I hope I don't embarrass you."
"I like it when you look at me, Brendan. Your look is kind. It makes me feel good. I'm really glad you enjoy it," I replied, instinctively taking his hand as we walked. He let me hold it.
We must have walked miles. The sun was slowly dropping into the sea. Night falls very early in the winter this far north. When we returned to the cottage and stoked the fire some more, I helped Brendan peel the vegetables and cut the meat for a good stew.
It was absolutely delicious and all the fresh air made me starve! As I was cleaning out the empty stewpot with bread, Brendan looked at me tilting his head. I shrugged, saying, "It's your fault that there's nothing left. It was too good!"
"Thank goodness there's a food store only a few miles back! Ha! I forgot how much young, healthy males eat!"
I did the dishes as Brenden pulled our chairs away from the table to face the fire. He had opened a bottle of local whisky and filled his glass, handing me mine, nice and full too. He had taken his shoes off and was toasting his sock-clad feet. I did the same. We raised our glasses, clinked them together, smiling as he said, "To us!"
"Yes, to us!"
"You know, Andrew. We don't have to talk a lot. It's a privilege to just listen to the wind and sometimes the waves at high tide filling the sand flats. I could listen to the crackling fire hours on end, sipping some extra old whisky. It's way better doing it together."
"Oh, how right you are, Brendan! -- However, I'm waiting for the story about the statuette there on the wall."
"Sure, of course. I sort of forgot about it."
"Well my curiosity is killing me..."
He then told me how he had found the nude Christ without the cross in an antique shop in Venice.
"I asked the shopkeeper if he knew the story behind the object. I thought a nude Christ was rather rare. He replied saying it was a copy of a crucifix by Michelangelo which could still be found in Florence. However, the cross was lost. So I dreamed up the story you and Mark are now enacting. Are you satisfied?"
"Thanks! It's really inspiring for me to see it, thinking about my role."
"Don't think too much about your role, Andrew. Just let yourself unwind!"
"I do thank you, Brendan. I was sort of dreading having to carry on intelligent conversation all the time!"
He laughed, which really relaxed me... as did the whisky too.
"Just being alive together can be more eloquent than words. We'll just slow down and let things happen and if we want to be intelligent, then we'll be intelligent."
It was close to 9:00 when Brendan took the boiling kettle off the fire and pumped a bucket full of water.
"Let's wash up and then turn in. I see you yawning and I'm dead tired myself."
I downed the bottom of my glass and put it in the sink as Brendan stripped in front of the fire. God, was he beautiful! I'd never tire looking at him! I stripped too and walked up beside him. He took me by the shoulders and simply turned me facing the fire as he began washing my back, neck and butt.
"Don't worry about the water spilt on the hearth. It dries in a hurry. Now, turn around."
I was harder than I had ever been in my life. He didn't seem to notice, but when my cock hit his, I was relieved to see his glorious erection glistening in the firelight too. He delicately washed my face, then my chest, pits and down to my belly. He even cleansed under my foreskin. We toweled each other down. My erection made it hard for to pee in the slop jar, but I wanted to hurry to join Brendan, already crawling nude in bed.
"Blow out the lamp and get in here with me before I chill."
"I'll be right there."
The light of the fire flickered on the rafters. Brendan pulled me up, backside, really close to him. He was warm. He smelled good. I loved the feel of his cock against the top of my thigh. I shivered a little, more from lust than anything else. He yawned and then fell into a deep sleep. He was already gone, his arm draped over me, his fingers in my pubic hairs. I too surrendered to slumber, still in heaven... and with Brendan, even in his sleep, holding me nice and tight, I knew that my heaven was down here, on good old earth.
When I woke up, I was alone in bed. The fire was blazing and there was a strong smell of fresh coffee in the air. It must have been close to 9:00 AM because there was light peeking through the window. I jumped out of bed and ran over to the corner releasing a blessed stream of pure relief.
The door opened and Brendan came in with a whiff of fresh air. He had the coal bucket in hand, sat it down saying, "My, my, you do look a lot better. Sleep can work miracles!"
"Was I that bad?"
"Well you look a lot better now..."
"I haven't slept like that since I left Virginia!" I commented, pulling on my underwear. Once I was dressed, I emptied the slop-jar out side, rinsed it out and put it back in the corner.
We enjoyed a full country breakfast and discussed the plans for the day. Brendan said since the weather was holding out, we could go down on the rocks and fish for our lunch.
"Sounds great, but I don't know how to fish..." I said.
"I'll show you," and that was all. It was enough.
I was one proud fellow coming back with my pollock. It put up a very loyal fight but I won. Brendan had caught two other fish. We cleaned them, cutting out the filets to go into a vegetable stew which simmered on the fire.
"Things are so simple here, Brendan. Cooking, washing, resting. I don't know if I want to go on a walk or take a nap after lunch. I'd sort of feel guilty sleeping overtime... but, all the fresh air, the chill and now the food..."
"Do what you want. I'm going to read some of the books I've neglected since I started at the University. Enjoy sprawling on the bed all by yourself. Doze to your heart's delight. Nobody will say you're a lazy-head, so why don't you just splurge!"
We had lunch, again with no leftovers. We'll do soup and sandwiches for supper. I crawled up on the bed and indulged in an hour or so dozing between doing absolutely nothing!
The sun was setting when I got up. I felt like a brand new man. I told Brendan I was going to run some on the beach before dark.
"Enjoy your jogging, Andrew! The tide's low and the sand is nice and hard,"
When I returned, the soup was steaming and Brendan was making the sandwiches. There was a bottle of wine on the table.
I calmed down, washed my hands and enjoyed an early supper with my wonderful companion. I cleaned up the table, did the dishes and we settled in for our evening whisky.
I was beginning to love the routine. We talked some about the book he was reading. I glanced out the window and then excused myself to go take a look outside. There they were! The northern lights! I was amazed at the glow in the sky. I was seeing for the first time in my life an undulating ballet, a curtain of light floating in the heavens!
I dashed back in and shouted, "Come and see! The sky's afire!"
We went back out. I gazed at the streams of light slowly dancing above.
"Brendan, hug me please. I think I'm going to weep from emotion. I feel like the sky is alive. I've never been so awestruck by nature in my life. It almost scares me!"
He opened his arms and I grabbed him. I felt like I was being born again, born under a sacred sky. I couldn't resist nudging his neck with my nose. He didn't shun me and nudged back. And that was that.
We returned back in, enjoyed another glass of whisky in silence and bathed like the night before. When we cuddled in bed, I turned toward him and we held each other, cock to cock. Brendan rubbed my buttocks, making me shiver and then whispered in my ear, "Take it easy, Andrew. Let's just take it easy. You felt the power of nature outside. The same power of nature is inside us too. Let's take the time nature needs to guide us the best way possible. Sleep now."
I was in a turmoil of mass confusion. Every cell in my body screamed to let love flow. I guessed that's what one could call the yearning burn inside. Love. I had fallen from infatuation into the rising tide of love.
I kissed Brendan in the neck. He tenderly returned the kiss and turned over. It took me a long time to find sleep. I had deep inside a very special feeling. It felt good and yet it was like a kind of hunger, a thirst. I was so hard, it almost hurt... and yet if felt good, just like that too. Maybe what I was feeling was also the whisky... Perhaps...
I then suddenly realized that tomorrow was Christmas. I slipped out of bed, being careful to not awaken Brendan. I had purchased a Christmas gift for him and had it wrapped. It a very elegant autumn hue silk scarf. I dug the present out of the bottom of my bag and put it on the table. My duty being done, once back in bed, sleep overwhelmed me.
As usual, Brendan was awake before me. Beside my gift on the table was another small gift wrapped box.
"Merry Christmas, sleepyhead!" chimed Brendan as I stepped out of bed, again sporting my morning wood.
"Good morning, my handsome lord!" I quipped back, making a ceremonious bow. I shivered, waking up in the cold, pissing outside, and threw on my clothes.
"You spoil me, Brendan. I wish I could cook for you too. But, I don't know how... at least, not yet."
"Let me spoil you and accept it with grace! I've never had to look after someone. With you, I'm making up for lost time. It feels good!"
"It feels good to me too," I whispered, smiling, touching his cheek.
We sat. I waited for Brendan to say something about the presents... Obviously he was doing the same. I blurted out, "This is for you, Brendan," as he said, "Here's a little Christmas gift from Santa."
We both laughed and tore open the gifts. Brendan waved the scarf, making it float like a cloud around his head as I sniffed the cologne.
He asked, "Does it suit you? It's new from France. Eau Sauvage. I think it's young and fresh... just like you."
I'm sure I blushed. He had put the scarf around his neck. I said, "It really looks good on you..."
"Today we wash and shave, dress the best we can and go back to Lochmaddy for lunch. How does that sound to you?"
"Couldn't sound better."
I was so proud of my Eau Sauvage and even if I barely had anything to shave, it felt good to be well groomed. Brendan was even more gorgeous than usual with his smooth cheeks and unruly hair well styled.
The Christmas tree in the entrance of the restaurant didn't make me want to cry. In fact, the adventure I was living hardly gave me time to think about home. However, I did notice the pay phone and thought it would be nice to call home.
The meal was wonderful and spirits high.
"Brendan, after dessert, I think I'm going to try to call home, reversing the charges. I'd like to wish everyone a Merry Christmas. Do you mind?"
"Of course not! That's a great idea!"
It took about ten minutes for the call to get through. Everybody back home was at breakfast. I told my Dad where I was and with whom. He congratulated me. It made me feel good. I was glad I called.
Riding back in the car, I still had that special feeling from last night on my mind.
When we got back to the cottage, I asked Brendan, "Can we talk some?"
"About what?"
"About something I was feeling last night and don't really understand."
"That happens... Of course, I'd be glad to listen."
We put some more wood and a shovel of coal on the fire and sat down. The barometer had fallen and windy clouds were building up. An angry little squall was in the brewing. It was good to be inside.
"So, what's on your mind, my fair young lord?" Brendan asked, quoting a line from the play.
"Since I'm confused, I really don't know how to start."
"Just start talking and things will get organized all by themselves."
I stalled some, looking at Brendan. He just looked at me, smiling... not too much. Just enough to make me melt some.
"Well, here goes!"
I told Brendan that playing the role of a passionate relationship with Mark upset me but pleased me even more. But then I told him that I felt really warped with the education I was given in prep school.
"You see, there wasn't a week that went by without them warning us about homosexual behavior. Even if the school wasn't denominational, they, nonetheless, permitted themselves to talk to us about sin and mental sickness -- and yet it was common knowledge that the seniors enjoyed poking their pricks up the younger boys' bums... even the ninth graders. I had to bite the pillow when I was fourteen. I didn't "take it like a man". I cried and fought back as I was sodomized twice by two seniors. I screamed my lungs out. They left me alone from then on. When I was a senior, at least half of the guys bragged about the cute little piece of ass they had. I was on the other half, leaving the younger kids alone. Some enjoyed it, flaunting around like little hussies, but most of the kids dreaded having the privilege of getting fucked. The strangest part was that nobody did nor said anything about it -- Well that story's finished! But, now that I'm acting a part where lust between Mark and me is a key part of the play... and it's Jesus that triggers our... our..."
"Your sex drive."
"Yes, that's it... And that I feel it for real. Not only in the play but also here with you, I..." The words clogged up in my throat, not coming out.
"What do you want to say, Andrew?"
I took a deep breath, swallowed, and stuttered, "I feel really strong for you, Brendan -- There, I said it!"
Brendan smiled again at me, obviously thinking very deeply about what to reply. Then he spoke.
"I'm flattered, Andrew. If you feel that way, then you must know that I feel the same thing for you too. Deep feelings work both ways when there's authentic affection involved. Between us, our affection for each other is evident -- We both feel it because it's sincere. But..."
He thought some more. I was sitting on the edge of my chair. I wanted to sit on the floor at his feet to listen to what he was saying, but I decided not to.
"But, you know, Andrew, sex isn't everything. It became a bore having to satisfy my girlfriend's craving for sex. She considered it to be my duty to do it with her, whether I wanted to or not. I slowly began to realize that if I couldn't, it was because the little love, or to be more precise, the idea of love had flown. Our cocks are like that for most guys. We just can't wish an erection for it to happen, nor can we wish it to go limp again because we want it to. I guess you didn't really feel sexually fulfilled with a glorious erection as you were being fucked up the butt in school did you?"
"I was too busy crying, fighting the pain and the insults. No, I was limp as a washrag."
"I know there's a lot of guys out there for whom sex is a biological function and they simply need to get their juice out, proving their superiority, or imagining themselves as such, by simply poking their cocks in other people's holes, using them just to make themselves feel strong..."
I listened to him. For the first time, I was actually having a serious discussion about sex without anybody ranting about sin or queers or considerations like 'they're all sluts except my sister and my mother...', etc.
"Brendan it's so good to hear you talk so freely without involving religion or moral issues..."
"Don't be shocked by what I'm going to say now. I'm going to be absolutely honest with you all the way. I believe in a bisexual, dead Jesus. I believe that religion killed God. It's a fact in Jesus's case. The high priests of the Temple of Jerusalem had Jesus killed in the most abject, despicable, ignoble way possible: pinning him on the symbol of his sex, his cock and balls, the cross and letting him hang there until he suffocated. That was a case of symbolic homosexual rape! But with that crime, another religion was born. It recuperated the story and made a fairy tale about it, inventing the myth of arising from the tomb, Easter. In the Acts of the Apostles, in the Epistles, the writer, Paul, ranted on against homosexuality, as did the Jews in the Old Testament... But in the Gospels, Jesus never ever, I mean never condemned homosexuality nor free love for that matter. There is even mention of him weeping over the death of a young man, Lazarus, the brother of Mary Magedelena. It is translated, that he 'loved', as a lover, Lazarus. The miracle he supposedly performed by raising him from the dead, the only person he raised from the dead, was clear. Love puts life in your life. God is love and when the body sings the hymn of love in the communion of flesh, there is no sin! God is at work... not Satan!"
I sat there totally dumbfounded! Then I looked up at the naked statuette over the fire. I could have sworn he nodded, smiling! I was holding my breath to hear what he was going to say next.
"As far as sin is concerned in sex, only rape is a sin, not because of sex but because of the abuse, the drive to dominate and other forms of insecurity that push human men to use their cocks in the most stupid ways possible. Man is the only mammal that rapes. But beyond the use of cocks in human holes, mankind rapes the planet, nations rape other nations, the wealthy rape the poor... That's where the real sin is... and that's how we are taught to succeed, rise in power and dominate others. We are taught to dominate womankind to begin with. Jesus's example and words never talked about becoming a leader, a boss, a general nor a 'real' man. He never said men and boys shouldn't make love together. Jesus was raped by the religious authorities in charge because he defied them, he pushed their noses in their own shit. You know the result; dying naked on a cross, humiliated, scorned, abandoned by all except his mother, Mary, and a former whore whom he loved, Mary Magdalena, as well as his young beloved boyfriend, the Apostle John."
"Oh my God, Brendan, you are ripping the veil from my eyes!"
I thought in silence another minute or so. Brendan must have seen I was absorbing the absolute logic of his words. I went on, "So the real Jesus died and is dead. The Jesus of religions is the Jesus of the fairy tale, an imaginary Jesus, the one raised from the dead and who flew to heaven... the Jesus in the name of whom religions commit their abominations," I stuttered, feeling a kind of anger rise inside.
Brendan replied, "But you know, I believe that the real Jesus, who has been dead for over two thousand years, still lives in those who love the way he loved. Without rape, only with tender loving, humble attentiveness and shared desire."
Brendan stood, turned his back to the fire and continued.
"You see, Andrew, I felt, from the first day I saw you, a special warmth. You fascinated me, which is a way of saying you seduced me without knowing it. You were too shy to try to seduce me as others have tried. The power of your seduction was in fact that you never tried to seduce, you just let love for me rise like does the water of a boiling spring. It has risen and is now ready to overflow, blowing like a geyser, I imagine."
He read in my soul. He took a step or two, pulled his chair in closer to mine and sat back down.
"You see, my soul was reaching out to you. It touched you... but it touched you at a moment in your life when you were more vulnerable than usual. You were alone in a foreign country. You were in need of guidance and affection. You found in our collaboration a certain way to satisfy that need. Then, when I saw you on the verge of despair, I hesitated inviting you for fear of... for fear of becoming too involved with you, for fear of getting hurt again."
"But you did invite me! And here I am and here, and... and Brendan Sutherland, I love you!"
"Is it me you love or is it the boss, the handsome alpha male, paying attention to the meek underling that you consider yourself to be?"
I quipped back, "Maybe before being here with you, it could have been all that. But here! Here, we shed all the things we hide ourselves in. We've left behind status, position, roles and even clothes. Here, I discovered my naked soul under the gaze of that naked Jesus in front of me, smiling down on us. Do you hear me? I don't know what's happening in me but I know it's real. My soul is naked, Brendan, and it's screaming my love for you, love beyond words!"
He slowly stood again and in silence went to the cupboard. I was terribly afraid. I wondered if my explosion had gone too far. Had I made a disaster out of our Christmas, of the beauty of our relationship, of all my hopes? Inside I was screaming for him to say something... anything!
He poured two glasses of wine and handed one to me, saying... at last! "Love beyond words, that's what you said. Our souls speak to us like God speaks to us, in the ineffable power of feelings, intuition and patience, in the grace of respect. Love beyond words means love beyond rank, power, ruse, cunning... beyond the privilege of age and all the other things that define us to others. So let's drink to our souls' love for each other... our flesh shall soon celebrate it!"
I stood up, grabbed the glass and rejoiced inside as we toasted. Oh my God! He did it again! He snatched me out of the throes of despair to throw me into the blinding light of joy! I gulped a swallow of wine and coughed. He winked at me, and, totally unable to restrain myself, I put the glass on the table, grabbed Brendan's head and smashed a big kiss on his luscious lips. He kissed me back, pulled his head out of my grip and sedately said, "Let's finish our wine first."
The squall roaring outside was nothing compared to the tidalwave of lust carrying us away in a spiral whirlpool of total abandon.
Everything happened like in slow motion. We undressed in front of the fire. I was drowning in Brendan's soft gaze. He caressed my cheek, my chest. He ran his hand down my back, my buttocks. I was trembling like a leaf in a hurricane.
"You can touch me too, you know. Our hands tell us much more about each other than our eyes or our words," he whispered.
I timidly began caressing him too, furtively at first, then with growing trust. I found myself clinging to him, almost clawing his back. My cock throbbed for all it was worth against his. We were neither immobile nor moving. Our cocks nudged, our bellies breathed together, our hearts were racing and our pits dripping, filling the air with an urgent scent of desire.
When we began to kiss, for real this time, I sucked on Brendan's tongue as it tantalized mine. Somehow, we fell on the bed and I slipped down, grabbing Brendan's perfect cock. I licked it, sucked it, nurturing it, lapping up the slick that then flowed from the tip. The scent of his auburn curls, just above the shaft, was driving me insane. I fondled his balls. He held my head, shoving the head of his cock against the roof of my mouth. My lips ached as I devoured him, reaching up to dig my fingers in his flesh. Suddenly he spun around. I nestled my head on his thigh as his cock then danced in my throat, between my lips, sending its electrical power into all my being. He had taken my drooling cock in his mouth. An instinctive, ancient dance inside me made me writhe, rise and fall, swim inside Brendan's hold. He too thirsted. As the squall raged, splattering the window with rain and spray, we both spewed with stifled screams our most intimate essence. It surged and overflowed as an offering of love to our lover. I swallowed over and over as I ejaculated over and over, deep into Brendan's throat. When we surfaced, breathing, heaving, grinning and almost laughing, I returned and crawled into Brendan's outstretched arms.
Later in the night, as the squall left behind a star-studded sky, the northern lights hovered above. My life had changed. I had changed. I was myself at last. I was myself because I was his for that vertical instant, suspended in time. I thought nothing, I feared nothing. I sighed, turned and snuggled up closer to Brendan.
"Aren't you hungry?" he whispered.
"Yes, for you always..."
"I am too, but I mean hungry for something that fills our stomachs a bit better."
I wiggled, giggled and suddenly sat up shouting, "In fact, I'm starved!"
We ate and then made love again. Then we slept in a haze of oblivion and peace.
To be continued...
A free picture album illustrating this story (pdf) is available upon request at marin.giustinian@laposte.net.