Moving On
I woke up the next morning thinking about my evening at the roadhouse. Shago's suggestion to go there for dinner hadn't been spontaneous. As often as he went there, he knew the bartender would be shirtless, and he'd deliberately encouraged me to do the same.
Although I doubted that he'd lined up the participants, he'd planned the lesson on making me more assertive in a public gay setting. He knew I would soon be joining my older peers there, and I should be prepared for what would happen.
After a shower, I headed upstairs.
"Hi, Mom and Dad. What's for breakfast?"
Mom smiled at me. "Is food all you think about?"
I smiled back. "When I'm not thinking about how well hung Colton is."
Mom sighed. "Why do those comments always come back to haunt me?"
"I'd go into more detail on my thoughts, but it would be too much information."
Mom supplied me with a stack of pancakes. "Perhaps you have another topic?"
"I do. Coach suggested I oughta spend some time walking in nature, so that's what I'm gonna do today. For the most part, I'll be on our property. I do plan to go to the quarry for a while, though. I wanna see what it looks like in winter."
Dad had a suggestion. "You can take the pickup if you want to."
"Thanks, Dad, but it's not too far and not too cold out, and I think it'll be helpful for me to use the four-wheeler."
"Okay, but if you change your mind, the pickup is available."
I finished breakfast and went out to the barn to take care of Oreo and Domino. I was wearing the collar, and Mom and Dad had to have noticed it, but they hadn't said a word.
When I was finished, I went back to the house. They were still in the kitchen. It looked like I'd interrupted something, so I did my trick of stopping on the stairs to listen. Mom spoke first.
"Do you have any idea why he would start wearing a dog collar?"
"Absolutely none. With that caption, I doubt if it's bondage-related, so it must be something else."
"Let's let it ride. It's probably a phase of his recovery process."
"I agree."
Whether or not they were right in their analysis, I didn't know. I was glad they weren't going to push it, though. I was becoming attached to my collar.
I'd spent time before sitting by the creek doing what I called listening to nature. Maybe because it was winter or maybe because being in motion produced different results, the day became one of reminiscence and self-discovery. I started by walking down to our picnic shelter, and thinking about the times I'd spent there with Aiden. I couldn't really call it "fun", at least not at first, but helping him recover had been a rewarding experience. I watched the creek flow endlessly by. Like time, I thought. The pieces of wood the creek carried had no control over their journey. How much control did I have over mine?
Walking around the barn brought memories of working with Rusty on its construction, and his and Nate's help with the pasture fencing. The thoughts brought pain, but less than a few days earlier. It was a lot like my breakup with Logan. Time heals. Perhaps we'd work together again someday.
And the animals themselves, especially Oreo and her contribution to Nate's recovery. I smiled slightly. That was one time I saw clearly what Rusty was too bullheaded to admit.
Rolling the ATV out of the barn brought recollections of Rusty and me bringing it home, and the sexy fun we had doing it. I fired it up and headed for the quarry. The trip reminded me of the many times Rusty and I had ridden there together.
As it did with everything else, snow made the quarry a different place. It covered the level rocks and clung to the sides of the basalt columns. A crust of ice covered the pool. The swallows were absent, wisely in warmer places. The quarry was a dead, silent place in winter.
The diving rock was free of snow. I sat on it and reflected. This was where it had all begun, and where so many memories were made - swimming, diving, learning, teaching, laughing, playing - too many to enumerate.
Walking around to the other side, the meadow where I'd given Rusty two first times and he'd given me one was covered with snow. I peeked under a nearby rock. The lube was still there. I was strangely curious as to whether it would be usable after freezing.
Returning to my ATV, I looked back at what had become an important place for me. There would be good times here again, perhaps even to be shared with Rusty and Nate.
I started up the ATV. It was time to head for home and look into the future.
When I arrived at Matt's place, the party was in full swing. My knock on the door went unanswered, so I let myself in. I tossed my coat with the others on one of the sofas and looked around.
Country western music played in the background as a couple dozen guests mingled in crowded conditions. All were junior high and high school football players. This was a guy party, but except for Josh and Matt, all of these guys were straight.
The room was warm, and a number of shirts had been discarded. I smiled. If nothing else, the party had eye candy.
I felt a hand on my shoulder. "Hey, Hot Kid. How are you doing?"
I turned around. "Hey, Matt. I'm doin' great. Thanks for inviting me."
He smiled. "You're quite welcome. There's drinks in the cooler and snacks in the kitchen. Help yourself."
"Thanks, I will."
I selected a soft drink from the cooler and looked around. Across the room, I spotted another exception to the straight majority. Nate, who had been on the ninth-grade team, was engaged in an animated discussion with four varsity players, including Josh and Jaylen.
With his shirt off, it was clear that weightlifting was indeed turning Nate into a little hunk. It was also building his self-confidence. A friendly slap on the side of the head from Jaylen, six inches taller and thirty pounds heavier, produced a happy grin and a flurry of playful punches from Nate, followed by a noogie from Jaylen. The friendly exchange left them all laughing.
I joined a group of junior varsity jocks. The conversation centered on football, of course, with a focus on how to score touchdowns and how to score on cheerleaders. Neither topic inspired me. I excused myself, claiming a need to use the bathroom.
When I came out of the bathroom, Matt's bedroom door was open. Cooter stood in the doorway, barefoot and shirtless, nonchalantly buttoning his Levi's. Behind him, one of Nate's teammates sat naked on the edge of the bed, his sad face and slumped shoulders a portrait of regret.
Cooter closed the door. "Hey, Hot Kid. Good to see you. Matt said you'd be here."
"Nice to see you too, Cooter, though I didn't expect to."
I followed him back to the living room, where he grabbed a beer and invited me to join him on a couch.
"The bedroom recreation is why I come to these parties. There's always some straight jock like Alan who comes on to me, wanting to feel a cock inside for the first time. I'm always happy to provide the experience."
I touched his bare chest. "Not that you weren't trying to encourage his interest."
He laughed. "As you demonstrated so well last night at the roadhouse, it pays to advertise."
I smiled. "Point well taken."
"What I don't come for is the Bud Light - or the conversation."
"You're not into sports?"
"Doing, yes. Watching, yes. Replays forever, no. I can hold my own with sports fans when I'm tending bar, but that's where it ends. And I don't need lessons on seducing cheerleaders."
I laughed. "You must have been in the same conversation I was."
"They're all the same. I'd rather talk about classic books, old movies, jazz music, or craft beer. Which reminds me, I was impressed with your knowledge of the Payette Brewing Company options."
I chuckled. "That was pure luck. I learned the difference at a party last summer."
"And that's the best way to learn - by experimenting"
"Like with sex."
He smiled slightly. "Yeah, like with sex."
He paused for a moment. "I like your collar. It looks good on you. Does it have a special meaning?"
I smiled. "It doesn't mean I'm attached to anyone. I wear it because I like it. What does it mean to you?"
He pondered for a few moments. "It's an intriguing paradox - simultaneously an invitation to have an adventure, and a warning not to. You're like a carnival ride with a sign that announces, 'The Most Fun You Can Have With Your Clothes On', and underneath, 'Danger - Ride at Your Own Risk'." He smiled. "A warning that only serves to encourage risk-taking."
I laughed out loud. "I like that. So, are you a risk-taker?"
He pondered the question for a few moments. "I could become one."
We paused briefly as Alan emerged from the hallway. His look of regret had been replaced by one of glum resignation. After tossing an unopened package of Trojans into the trash, he opened a beer and chugged it, and then popped a second one as he joined a group of friends. Cooter laughed softly.
"Beer is the perfect post-penetration painkiller, good for both physical and emotional suffering. Even so, he'll be sore and remorseful for a day or so"
"How many times did you screw him?"
Cooter smiled. "Only once, but quite thoroughly. He'll get over it. Then he'll be back for more."
Cooter got up to look for another beer and something to eat. While he was gone, I watched Nate and his group. Turning out for football had been a stretch for Nate, but like weightlifting, it had done him a world of good. Happy and playful, he didn't seem like the same person I'd met while baling hay for Gramps.
Now shirtless too, Jaylen stood next to Nate, his right arm around Nate's neck, his dark body contrasting with Nate's lighter one. His fingertips gently teased Nate's nipples and traced random patterns on his chest.
Nate's left hand casually explored Jaylen's well-muscled back before sliding up to hang from his far shoulder. He looked up at Jaylen with a smile of adoration that spoke of unconditional hero worship.
Jaylen smiled back encouragingly, and playfully ruffled Nate's hair. He looked down the hallway, and then whispered into Nate's ear. Nate grinned and nodded his head.
Cooter returned in time to watch Nate and Jaylen go into Matt's room and close the door. I looked at him questioningly.
"Do you have to make bed reservations ahead of time?"
He laughed. "There's not as much demand as it seems. Mostly straight guys who want to experiment with gay sex. Matt views it as a his contribution to sex education."
He resumed our earlier conversation. "So, did you have a good time last night?"
"Oh, yeah! Thanks for the beer recommendation. The food was excellent, and the service superb." I grinned. "And the after-dinner activities were fun too."
He laughed. "Thanks. And thanks for the tip you left. Shago was generous too."
"He always is." I paused. "Shago says you're a friend of his."
"Yes, he's a regular customer. We've become good friends."
"How do you get away with serving minors?"
He smiled wryly. "I think a little bribing goes on, but I don't know the details. I've been told to use my best judgement. When someone your age is with an older guy like Shago, I don't worry about it."
I made another subject change. "If I recall correctly, I saw you workin' with the carnival at the fair last summer. I assumed you weren't local."
"At the time, I wasn't local. I grew up in Boise, and I started with the carnival right out of high school last June. When I turned nineteen in September, I began working for the roadhouse."
"Do you live out there?"
"There's an old 1930's-style motel a short distance down the side road. It belongs to the roadhouse, and they use it for employee housing."
I realized I was asking a lot of questions.
"Sorry if I sound like I'm doin' an interview, but I'm genuinely interested."
He smiled. "No problem. Like most people, I don't mind talking about myself."
I paused. "There's one other thing I'd like to ask you. At the fair, one of my younger friends wandered off with you. As you may know, there was an abuse situation going on, and people were paranoid about things like that."
"Yes, with the abuse case on national news, I knew about it. I remember the kid. It was poor judgement on my part, but also overreaction on the part of others. No harm was intended. He seemed interested, so I might have given him a blow job, but I wasn't going to screw him."
I paused briefly. "I'm saying more than I should now, but I think the problem was that the older kid with him was an abuse victim who had a flashback because of your physical resemblance to the abuser. I hope that helps explain the overreaction."
"It does." He paused. "I know you can't say more, but I recognized the older kid as the one who went into the bedroom with Jaylen. He didn't recognize me when I talked with Jaylen earlier. And I hope he's recovered as well as it seems."
Correctly not expecting a response, Cooter resumed the original conversation.
"So, as to the after-dinner activities. I gather you had a good time with Joey?"
I grinned. "Yeah, I did."
"And you were gone for quite a while with Matt."
Both the discussion and Cooter's hot body were turning me on. I pulled off my shirt and adjusted my growing boner.
"Yeah, he bent me over the picnic table at the end of the building. Not quite the thing to be doin' outdoors at this time of year, but it was fun." I smiled. "I think the invitation to this party was a bribe to get inside me."
Cooter smiled. "It worked, didn't it?"
"I'd have done it without the bribe."
"Are you always that easy?"
"Just with friends." I smiled suggestively. "And any friend of Shago's is my friend too."
He put his hand on my stomach and slid it down my treasure trail.
"I think you're trying to encourage my interest."
I leaned back into the couch, put my hands behind my head, and smiled at him.
"I'm only following your example. As you said, it pays to advertise."
Gently rubbing my abs with the palm of his hand, he smiled.
"You're wasting your time. I've been interested since you first walked into the roadhouse yesterday. I hope you'll come home with me and stay for the night."
Bingo! I wanted to do a victory dance, but I restrained myself.
"I'd love to do that, but I gotta check with my dad before goin' that far. I've got his pickup, and the ink on my driver's license is barely dry."
He slid his hand under my waistband and briefly touched my pole.
"Let me know what you find out."
I went to the relative quiet of the bathroom to make the call, hoping my parents were still up. Dad answered immediately.
"Hi, Dad. I have an out-of-the-ordinary situation I gotta discuss with you."
"Go ahead."
"A friend of Shago's I met yesterday has invited me to go home with him. He works at the roadhouse Shago and I went to last night, and he lives nearby. That's twenty miles north of here. I'll be following him there, and since I'll be there all night, it'll be daylight when I come home. I know it's a stretch in a couple of ways."
"Are you comfortable with the situation and with driving that far?"
"Yeah, I am. I like him and I trust Shago's judgement, and the roads are fine."
The response was immediate. "Have a good time, and as your mother would say, be careful."
"Thanks, Dad."
"And thank you for letting us know what you're doing."
"You're welcome, of course. I'll see you in the morning."
I followed Cooter to his apartment. Once we were parked in front of his unit, he led me inside and turned on the floor lamp near the door.
Originally designed for two double beds, the room now held one queen size bed with its head towards the right wall. The bed divided the apartment into a front and back section.
In the back, the small kitchenette to the right shared the space with a small bathroom on the left. The kitchenette was supplied with a vintage refrigerator, a two-burner electric stove, and a small table with two chairs. Much of the counter space was occupied by an older microwave.
To the front, a nightstand stood next to the bed with an easy chair beside it. A loveseat-size sofa and two end tables occupied the space under the front window.
Along the left wall stood a wardrobe and a dresser with an older TV on top. Next to the TV sat a Bose music system, small but effective, a modern electronic device in an otherwise dated environment. Cooter hooked up his iPhone, and soon the sound of soft instrumental jazz filled the room.
I removed my shoes and left them next to his near the door. My coat went into the wardrobe alongside his. He pulled off his shirt, so I did too.
"Would you like something to drink?"
I smiled. "Maybe a pre-penetration painkiller? That Imperial Stout would be great if you have it."
He laughed. "You won't need a painkiller, but I do have the beer. One of the fringe benefits of working for the roadhouse is the variety of beers. One of the older workers has to buy it for me since I'm only nineteen. I can serve but not purchase. Crazy."
He looked in the refrigerator. "I have a bottle of a new beer we just got in - Backwoods Logyard IPA - from a small brewery in Washington. Would you like to try that?"
"Sure, why not. And I like the music. I've gotten so used to country western that I almost forgot other kinds exist."
He brought us each a glass of beer and directed me to the loveseat before sitting down in the easy chair.
Off duty and dressed only in Levi's, he looked a lot more like the Cooter I remembered - a muscular, shaggy-blond, self-confident stud with a perfect body. I didn't realize I was staring until he smiled and said, "Like what you see?"
I laughed. "Sorry. I was thinkin' about the first time I saw you. I was lookin' down at you from the Ferris wheel. I thought you were awesomely hot. I still do."
He smiled at me. "Thanks for the compliment. You know, you're not bad yourself. Hot Kid is the perfect nickname. And now that we've established a mutual admiration society..."
I smiled appreciatively. I liked his sense of humor, and his openness, honesty, and easy-going style. He seemed to be someone I could connect with.
When we finished our beers, he offered me another, which I declined. Taking the glasses back to the kitchen sink, he rinsed them and put them away in the cupboard. In his small space, a place for everything and everything in its place was the rule.
When he came back, he turned down the music and turned the floor lamp to its lowest setting. Without further comment, he took his lube from the nightstand drawer, unbuttoned his Levi's, and casually greased an impressive tool that had to be a good eight inches long. Now I understood why Alan needed a painkiller.
Taking me by the hands, he pulled me to my feet and kissed me. Guiding me to the bed, he carefully laid me down on my back, and then tugged gently on the cuffs of my Levi's. I unbuttoned them, and he pulled them off. In the semidarkness, his muscular body seemed to glow, as if giving off radiant energy from within.
Dropping on top of me, he kissed me gently and then, as I responded, more passionately. He pressed our abs together, trapping our rock-hard poles, stimulating them with slow circular hip movements. Soon his whole body moved, grinding against mine, driving me crazy with lust.
For many long minutes, we twisted together in a sensual dance of carnal pleasure controlled by his powerful body. I desperately wanted him inside, but he seemed in no hurry to get there.
This was so much better than the casual sex of the night before. In fact, there wasn't much from the past weeks, even months, that compared. I liked the way Cooter kissed, the way he moved, the way his body molded itself into mine, the way the Levi's he was still wearing felt against my skin.
Our movement slowed as he braced his legs between mine and rested his upper body on his forearms. I felt pressure between my legs, and then he was moving inside me, probing, exploring, learning the part of me that could only be known this way.
Now he was thrusting in harder, his tough athletic body extracting pleasure from my pliant one below. My hands flowed over his back, urging him on. He was nearing the end. For long moments, time stood still. Then, with a sharp cry of excitement, he emptied himself inside me.
He lay on top of me for a long time breathing heavily, his head next to mine, his body sharing its warmth with me, his fingers stroking my face and running through my hair. Then he gently pulled out. Raising himself on his elbows he looked into my eyes and grinned.
"Do you suppose we could have sex sometime?"
"What if I said no?"
"I'd have to pull my jizz back out."
"That would be difficult. I guess I better say yes."
He kissed me.
"I knew you would. You are going to stay all night, aren't you?"
"Yeah, and come back as often as you'll let me."
He kissed me one more time.
"For you, the door will always be open."
In the morning, we walked to the roadhouse, hand in hand, for a genuine ranch-boy breakfast and the best coffee around. Cooter insisted on putting it on his employee tab, claiming he owed me for the best night of his life. I knew he was exaggerating, but I was pleased anyway. I'd never forget Rusty, but Cooter was well on the way to pushing him to the back of my mind.
*** If you enjoy this kind of story, please donate to Nifty to ensure that this free resource can continue: https://donate.nifty.org/ ***