PROFESSOR KENYON - 7
Copyright 2007 by Carl Mason
All rights reserved. Other than downloading one copy for strictly personal enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, except for reviews, without the written permission of the author. However based on real events and places, "Professor Kenyon" is strictly fictional. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. As in real life, however, the sexual themes unfold gradually. Comments on the story are appreciated and may be addressed to the author at carl_mason@comcast.net
If you would like to read additional stories by this author, please turn to the "Authors/Prolific Authors" link at the beginning of the Nifty Archive.
This story contains descriptions of sexual contact between males, both adults and teenagers. As such, it is homoerotic fiction designed for the personal enjoyment of legal, hopefully mature, adults. If you are not of legal age to read such material, if those in power and/or those whom you trust treat it as illegal, or if it would create unresolvable moral dilemmas in your life, please leave. Finally, remember that maturity generally demands safe sex.
CHAPTER 7
(Revisiting Chapter 6)
As March dawned and the weather changed, Brad did hear from Cousin Andy up in Ithaca. The Spring Break was all of six weeks away, but he and several buds at Cornell were already talking about going down to Panama City, Florida. Would the Great Ringmaster be at all interested in joining them? In the depths of his bones, Brad felt that dad knew something was brewing. The looks he gave him as they passed in the hall...the strange silence that came over the dinner table when Dakota mentioned that he was reading about Florida. Weird! This was going to take some planning!
(Continuing Our Story - Little Brothers)
No doubt about it... Lil Bro was absolutely preening and posing in his new jock! Brad guessed he was supposed to say something. "Lil Bro, you look sharper than hell! Man, I don't think I looked that good at twelve." Dakota blushed and turned so that Big Bro could see his rump. Brad had to admit that it wasn't all that bad, at least what there was of it. (Come to think of it, though, he may have started to put a little meat on his bones!)
"Big Bro, every time I look at you, I want to work harder and harder. I want to look like you; I want to be like you. I'm so glad you're my brother!" "Poor kid," thought Brad. "He's got it bad. Truth is, though, I had the same kind of crushes when I was his age. Dad was right: A little encouragement's the best medicine in the world!" Dakota babbled on without breathing. "Big Bro, would you do me a big favor if you could?" Brad grinned and said, "You know I would." "I wouldn't ask you this if you weren't my brother, but can I feel your muscles?" he asked nervously. Now it was Brad's turn to be nervous. "Well, ok, Lil Bro, but even brothers don't talk to others about everything, right?" "Right, Big Bro! Not a word!" "Ok, Lil Bro, do your thing." Dakota reached his hand out and very tentatively rested it on Brad's muscular buttocks. "Wow," he mumbled, "cool." He reached his hand around his brother's body and rubbed it up and down his quads. "Wow..." Reaching up, he fingered his heavy pecs. "You're more developed than any guy I know," he said proudly. Need this muscle for the rings, eh?" "Yeah, bro, and there are times that even that much muscle isn't enough." "Oh, I don't know," Lil Bro chirped, "Nine point nine seven five ain't all that shabby!" Brad blushed with pride at his brother's praise. "And has this muscle gotten bigger as you've exercised?" Brad gasped as Dakota placed his hand squarely on the pouch of his jock. "Not really," he said somewhat breathlessly, "that one gets bigger with age. For instance, yours is growing right now, correct?" "Oh, yeah," mumbled Dakota, vaguely embarrassed by Brad's question, but not wanting to let go of something that he had wanted to touch for some time. As his fingers prodded the pouch, the boy noticed that the substantial "muscle" he was touching began to shudder and grow even larger. "Ok, Lil Bro, that's it for today. We need to get back to our exercising. Ok?" "Ok, Big Bro," Dakota said regretfully. "Thanks. You're the greatest...the very greatest!" he added with a wide grin.
That afternoon at the University, Brad thought back over the incident, deciding that he wouldn't do anything different if it were to happen again. "All part of being a Big Bro," he decided.
(Lake Luck)
As a student left Dr. George Hall's office, he slipped in and greeted the highly respected teacher with whom he would be taking a course during the Spring Quarter. (He was currently taking the "Introduction to Philosophy" course and, therefore, would be eligible to take "Philosophy of Religion." "Intro" was a great course. He was earning a high B or, maybe, a little better!)
"Dr. Hall, I heard what you said about 'meditation' over at the Pauly lounge on Wednesday night. I'm really looking forward to studying that topic and others in 'Philosophy of Religion'. Do you have time, sir, for a question that is barely related to the course?" Hall immediately recognized the handsome young man who had scored what he thought was a perfect 'ten' in the gymnastics meet against Cornell. Smiling, he said, "Of course, Mr. Colby. Go ahead." "Sir," Brad began, "I'm finishing up my first university term and, to tell the truth, I'm beat. I need to get away for a few days...and just think...even if I don't know enough to 'meditate," he added with a grin. "I don't know this area, 'cause I come from the Coast. Do you know of any places in this part of the state where I could get away for two or three days without its costing me an arm and a leg?" The professor looked at the lad speculatively and then opened a desk drawer from which he removed a large ring of keys. Selecting one, he tossed it to the boy. He then quickly got up, moved over to a filing cabinet, and removed a sheet of paper, which he handed to Brad. "The key is to a small, primitive cabin on Lake Luck, about 50 miles from here," he said. "It belongs to me. I opened it up last weekend. The map shows you how to get there. If you will replace anything you use and leave it as you find it, you may use it for your...thinking." Brad's thanks were immediate, profuse, and heartfelt.
The rough dirt road finally dead ended at a log cabin standing at the end of a medium- sized lake. The sign when he had left the main road eight miles back had said "G. Hall." For the last two and a half miles, he had been on land posted as "Private Property - No Hunting, No Trespassing." Grabbing his knapsack and a small box of supplies, he lugged everything up on the porch of the cabin. "Oh, man, what a view," he sighed. At the far end of the lake, he saw a fairly high peak rising above the tree line. The lake proper was in the middle of heavy woods that came right down to the water. Only in front of the cabin was there a relatively small sandy beach. A rough float bobbed in the March waves; a rowboat had been overturned on the shore. Heavy storm windows had been removed from the cabin and were stored in a shed under a tall oak.
Using Dr. Hall's key, he entered the cabin. A fire had already been set in the large stone fireplace. Several kerosene lamps stood on tables. There were also comfortable chairs and two chests. Some old books and maps were neatly stacked into a small bookcase. Exploring, he found a small kitchen just off the main room; a generous supply of firewood lay next to the wood cooking stove. An ice chest stood open and empty. One accessed a good-sized bedroom with two single beds, a chest of drawers, and a back door from the other side of the main room. Looking out of the bedroom window, he saw an outhouse set in the midst of a small grove of trees. Closets contained linens, a variety of canned and dry foods, cleaning supplies, and room for hanging clothes. A variety of framed pictures - most of which he assumed to be of the same man, woman, and two children at different ages - were found throughout the cabin. Strangely, one was of a Native American, an American Indian in full regalia.
Quickly, he went to the car, secured the block of ice that he had purchased from a general store "down below," and put it and a few supplies into the ice chest. Holding out one Pepsi, he went out on the porch and sat down on the stairs. It was early. Although a variety of birds were in the air, he heard few insects. Still, there was no question that spring had come to the Northeast. When he felt the chill, he went inside, lit several lamps, warmed up some of the Professor's famous beef stew that he had sent along, and cut a few slices from a long baguette. After eating and cleaning up, he realized how very tired he was and turned in within a relatively short time.
Saturday dawned bright; the morning sun even felt warm. Stripping, he dove into the water and swam out to the float. He was going to sit on it for a bit, but he already realized that it was too cold and quickly swam back to shore, dried off, and dressed. "How great it would be not to wear any clothes up here," he mused. After fixing a light breakfast and cutting some more wood, he spent time reading, thinking about where he was going and why, and generally lazing off as he simply couldn't at home.
It was probably four o'clock when a young man hailed him and approached. Unless he was really missing something, the youth was an American Indian, i.e., a Native American. He did not recognize all of the decorations on his naked upper body or on his deerskin trousers and moccasins, but he had seen enough Indians in the Puget Sound area of Washington State to recognize them. He was correct. The boy, whose American name was Evan, had been searching for medicinal herbs and was happy to take a break. They spoke of the many Indians who were native to this part of the land in that they had arrived long before the white man, as well as their history. Brad was fascinated by their exploits, especially during the American Revolution. Clearly, it had torn them apart, scattered those who still lived over a wide swath of the eastern part of what is now the United States and Canada, and finally led to their exile. "We are recovering," Evan said proudly, "and reclaiming the old ways."
"Come, honor our meeting by joining me for supper," Brad said as the afternoon light began to thicken and became streaked with reds and golds. "I'd like you tell me more about your history." It was a fascinating tale, one in which philosophy and religion merged into one river of experience. Would that space allowed sharing at least parts of it, but, alas, it does not. Brad did become quite excited when he heard Evan claim that Professor Hall was a shaman, a Holy Man, and a Healer. "I'm taking a course from him this coming quarter in the 'Philosophy of Religion'," he claimed proudly. "Better that you join The People some summer evening in the forest and listen to his teaching when he doesn't have to lie to keep different people happy," Evan said. "Still, Brad, I am in your debt. You have welcomed me like one of The People. Would you like to take a very short trip in which you would see our ways and better understand them?" "Hell, I've got to leave for home tomorrow afternoon," Brad exclaimed sadly. "No matter, friend," Evan said softly. "You'll be able to do so." "Well, sure," Brad laughed. "You're on; let's go!"
Evan took a small wooden container out of a pocket and removed the lid. It was filled with hundreds of small, black, partially crushed seeds that Evan said were produced by a common flower. "Take a goodly amount of the paste with your finger, insert into your mouth, and chew the seeds thoroughly," Evan directed. "If you like the taste, take a bit more." Having always liked poppy seeds on top of rolls - and these seeds tasted much the same - Brad did like Evan's concoction and eagerly dipped into the container for a second helping.
"Now," directed his guide, "we must remove our clothing and cleanse ourselves in the water of the holy lake." In the light of the late afternoon, they splashed around, returning to the living room where, without drying themselves off, they sat cross-legged, facing each other. After his experiences yesterday and this morning, Brad couldn't quite believe how comfortably warm he was. "Pray or if you do not pray, my friend, fill your mind with the most significant experiences and people of your life, the true high points that define our dreams for ourselves and for others." After working intensely for about a half hour, Brad suddenly grunted, "Oh!" "What is it, Brad?" "There must be something wrong with the setting sun," Brad exclaimed in alarm. "Look! There are great swirls of color - reds, purples, golds, fawns... Look! Great bolts of cloth are unrolling all over the sky! Oh, God! It's so beautiful!" He broke into slightly hysterical laughter and then continued. "Now it's gone and I see diamonds and squares and circles, and five and six-cornered shapes...all moving, all in different colors! Wow! Oh, my God, he shouted, dropping to his knees. After a minute, he spoke with wonder in his voice. IT DOESN'T MATTER! It doesn't matter that I'm gay. I'm still on the same journey that everyone else is. Oh, Evan, it's so great!" Standing at his side and extending his hand, Evan said, "Come, we must dance. If you can't dance to honor God or the Great Spirit, dance to honor wisdom and beauty and life."
For all of twenty minutes, the two beautiful young men danced, danced together, danced apart, danced in the last light of the sunset that could be seen through the windows facing the lake. Finally they simply held each other close in the early darkness, sweat pouring down their bodies, their proud chests arched and fighting for air, both magnificently erect. "Do you want to see more of my people," Evan asked, his voice raw and harsh. "Oh, yes, Evan. Absolutely!" the young athlete answered. Again, the young Indian reached out his hand. "Do not be afraid, my friend. No harm will come to you, for you are protected." Suddenly, Brad was close to the ground, running on all fours, his muscular legs and paws whipping the snow into a frenzy, his furry snout and sensitive nose seeking the way, his bright eyes watching his companion in the chase as they raced over the lake, over trees, over the peak in the distance. Suddenly, they were surrounded by other members of the Wolf Clan. "Don't be afraid," Evan yipped. "They are also my brothers. Come! Race with the wind!" Down below in a clearing, Brad could just see two men who were watching them fly across the sky, a tall, older man in ceremonial dress who Brad instinctively knew must be Evan's father, a Holy man - and a white-haired man in western dress whom Brad had seen in his office only days ago.
Brad woke up naked, sprawled awkwardly on the floor of the little cabin's main room. His head was pounding; the taste in his mouth defied description. That couldn't happen again! If he was going to leave by two o'clock, he was going to have to get moving... and pretty darned soon. One thing was for sure. He wasn't going to tell anyone what may have happened up at the lake. Oh, he might discuss just a BIT of it with Dr. Hall - when the Philosophy of Religion course was underway and there was less chance that he would think him completely cracked. Besides, he didn't HAVE to discuss everything. For instance, for the first time since puberty, he KNEW with rock-ribbed certainty that it just didn't matter that was gay! What a gift!
(Hot on His Trail)
Returning to town, Brad found his Winter Quarter grades on a table in the hallway. They were excellent; he must have aced several of his final exams. God knows they gave him reason enough to begin thinking seriously about going down to Florida. In his joy at seeing him (after an absence of a bit more than two days!), Dakota was on high. Knowing that in the short term, any effort to sit down with his elder son and talk was doomed to failure, his dad simply scooped them both up and took them out for pizza.
Once again, the hunky athlete's antennae told him that something was afoot. How could his dad, clever as he was, be onto his plot to fly the family coop and spend time, unsupervised by adults, in the fleshpots of Florida? Nevertheless, everything pointed to the conclusion that he was! He felt eyes on him whether he chose a slice with pepperoni or bacon; he felt a mind touching his and probing his innermost secrets. Brad found himself stopping abruptly after going around a corner, and waiting to discover who...or what...was hot on his trail!
To Be Continued