Being born and raised in central Nevada, where our rivers are mere trickles of less force than is generated by a coyote pissing uphill, I couldn't help being a bit unnerved by the sight before me. A river at least a hundred yards wide, the lord only knows how deep, rushing with an incomparable force and producing a roar I had only heard in nightmares, waited for me to cross by way of a rickety, narrow walkway that ran along side a railroad trestle. A slight wind hissed through the metal rails and braces of the trestle like a whispered warning not to cross for I might never be the same.
This was central Alaska. This was the summer of 1991. This was the summer I would meet the guy I would measure every other guy against for the rest of my life.
I had been invited to go on this trip through a friend of a friend and had reluctantly accepted. I was eighteen, extremely shy, and way out of my element. Not the wilderness, mind you, it was being amidst a group of unfamiliar people that had my anxiety raging like the water ahead of me. I had, or have, what a shrink would later tell me was social anxiety disorder. Which, of course, was compounded by severely low self-esteem, making the interaction with nine other kids, all seventeen or eighteen years-of-age and very attractive, that much harder.
All this added up to the quintessential loner. A loner who was also struggling with his sexuality. A struggle that had escalated in to a full-blown battle seven days earlier. The day we left home.
That was the day I met the other kids for the first time. There was a large crowd of parents, younger siblings, and boy and girlfriends there to see us off. I wasn't actually certain who was going and who wasn't until we piled into the van.
I had hoped to get a spot next to a window but I ended up in the middle of the middle seat. Then, just before Larry, our over-religious leader, put the van in gear, one last passenger leaped in and slammed the sliding door shut. He then immediately pulled back the window and stuck half his body out and waved good bye to someone for two blocks. I had yet to even see his face, but the nicest ass I'd ever seen, or have since, wrapped in ever-so-tight jeans was staring me right in my face.
I forced my eyes forward, not wanting anyone to see me checking out a guy; especially what I though was a little boy. His name was Corey and I could've sworn he was no older than twelve. When he finally lowered himself back inside the van and turned toward me I was even more sure that he was at least six years younger than the rest of us. I had been told that no one younger than seventeen was going along. But plans change I figured.
He stuck his hand out and introduced himself to me then began conversing with the people in the back seat. He came across as more mature and more intelligent than a twelve-year-old so I assumed he must be a bit older. It was a few hours down the road that I learned he was indeed the same age as I was: eighteen.
Along with this information came the beginning of seven days of absolute torture. Corey seemed to like my company, even though I hardly spoke. Now him taking a liking to me should've been a good thing. But, since he had mentioned that he was as devoutly religious as his father, our leader Larry, I assumed that he was ultra-straight and would be totally against any thing that even hinted at gay. So I had to keep my feelings from being known. Which was harder to do the more he talked to me; and the more he took a liking to me the more he talked to me.
We discussed politics - as eloquently as two teenagers can discuss politics - we discussed movies, TV, books, sports, music, school, family, dreams, and, yes, girls. Of course all of these discussions were a bit one sided with me being such a man of few words.
While everyone else was sleeping or zoned out beneath headphones, the two of us talked. He would sometimes turn sideways in the seat to face me when he was getting excited about a certain subject, which made it hard not to look down at his crotch. Regardless of what we were discussing he wouldn't stop smiling. Which made it hard to tear my eyes away from his; or to keep from smiling back. Every little thing he did seem to make it hard for me to keep from saying or doing anything that would reveal my inclinations.
It only got worse.
When it came time to pull over and set up camp each night along the al-can highway, Corey would make a point of putting his and my sleeping bags together off to one side of the tent. He claimed that this was to keep any of the guys who didn't have the greatest hygiene from lying next to him. Though he also said it was so that he and I could talk. Which we did. Well into morning.
I don't believe I will ever again endure such anguish. Our elbows would rub together throughout the night and he would often turn and face me on his side even when I was already facing him in the same way, putting our faces only inches apart. Sometimes, as we were talking in this position, he would laugh over something then reach out and pat me on the shoulder or the side of the leg. Even though I was covered by the sleeping bag this would propel my heart rate to such levels that I was sure everyone in the tent could hear it.
Then each day it was back to the van for another day of driving and talking. Some of the girls on the trip who were blonde and leggy would draw my gaze at times, making it easier to keep my eyes off of Corey. However, longing to slide my tongue up those long, slender legs and cup those firm breasts while still wanting to smell Corey's Crotch only reinvigorated the battle within me over where my true passion really lie.
As this hormonal war raged on, I found myself standing if front of that damned river. The other nine kids, including Corey, along with Larry and his wife Sandy, were already half the way across the trestle. They made their way on the narrow walk-bridge that ran alongside and slightly below the train tracks. They were walking single-file, each with a backpack on; the girls with hair flailing about their heads and the guys with one hand holding down their caps.
I know that wind was warning me, but home was over three thousand miles away. So what could I do? I had to go forth and become a different man.
I pulled my cap down tight and took my first step out over the river. An optical illusion caused the boards under my feet to look as though they were moving sideways with the water rushing in the opposite direction down below. This was rather unsettling so I had to keep my eyes up and ahead.
Just when I though that, if nothing else, at least this was a perfect distraction from thoughts of Corey for a few minutes, I suddenly noticed that he had somehow made his way to the back of the line. Now all my eyes could focus on was that unbelievable ass. That round, bubbled yet chiseled, boyish yet athletically masculine, jean-enhanced ass. Staring at that work of art made time fly by and before I knew it, I was across the river.
After three miles of mud and mosquitoes We finally made it to Larry's cabin. Well, I guess you could call it a cabin. A dilapidated structure that Larry had built himself not long after Corey was born greeted us at the end of the hike. It kind of leaned to one side and looked more like an oversized outhouse than a cabin. But we were all just glad to put our packs down.
It was quickly pointed out that the girls would sleep on the floor in the living-room area while the boys would sleep up in the loft. I was the last to climb up and was expecting to get the least desirable spot to call my own for the next eight weeks. But as soon as I was high enough on the ladder to see into the boy's quarters, the first thing I saw was Corey waiving me over.
I had to crawl my way over to him for there wasn't enough room to stand upright even for someone as short as Corey. I shoved my pack aside and fell face first on to the musty mattress he had saved for me. I laid there exhausted from the trip and the hike. Then I felt a hand give my shoulder a couple of quick massaging squeezes. I looked up with the one eye that wasn't crammed into the mattress to see Corey smiling at me. Before my mind could begin jumping to any dick-hardening conclusions about what the act of him touching me that way might have meant, I saw the devious hue that was defining his smile.
"Don't get comfy," he said, "got to start bringing up the supplies."
I groaned loudly and rolled onto my back. I lifted my head to watch Corey's ass as he crawled toward the ladder.
"with the stove pipe sticking up through the loft, it gets way hot up here at night. So you might want to sleep on top of your sleeping bag. In your underwear or something. That's what I do," he said just before his head dropped out of sight.
The comprehension of those last three sentences made me sit up with a jerk. However, I had forgotten about the low ceiling. My head collided with a beam rather harshly and the force knocked me back down flat. I was able to keep a yelp from escaping my lips but the resounding thud was quite audible. As I gazed up at the twinkling stars circling above me, I felt a hand on my chest as someone leaned over me.
"man, are you alright?" It was Corey. His voice was loaded with genuine concern, but completely free of panic. His blue eyes were peering deep into mine, but all my senses were focused on that hand on my chest. That is until his other hand reached up to touch the simmering lump just above my hairline. As soon as his gentle, caressing fingers made contact with my shiny new idiot-indicator, the searing sting brought me whizzing back to reality.
"I'm fine. Shit!" I said. I raised up on one elbow while sizing up the lump with my other hand.
"Low flying aircraft up here, dude." Corey said. His hand had left my chest when I raised up, but was now patting my shoulder.
"I'll remember that."
"I hope so, cuz too many more shots like that and you won't be able to remember how to piss."
My immediate laughter only worsened the pain in my head, which only increased my laughter.
"Come on man," Corey said and headed for the ladder again. I slowly began crawling behind him. I had an incredible view of his ass as it rippled just inches in front of my face. I wanted to look away as badly as I wanted to stare at it, to smell it. I, of course, did not look away. But I didn't move in for a whiff either.
A few minutes later we were walking back down the trail on our way to bring up the first round of supplies. Fortunately, we now had mosquito nets over our heads to preserve what remained of our faces that the vicious little buzzers hadn't already eaten on the way up. Corey and I walked together while the rest of the pack was several yards ahead of us. I enjoyed the conversation and appreciated the fact that he wanted to hang back and talk with me, but I was disappointed that I couldn't watch that ass of his as we walked. But there was plenty for my eyes to rest on, however, and I don't mean the Alaskan landscape.
With a little skeeter spray and a whole lot of daring, the girls had decided to don their cutoff jeans. Even in Alaska it gets hot and muggy in the summer; hot enough that I was wishing I was brave enough to wear some shorts myself. But the fear of being ridiculed for extremely pale-white legs and the certainty of death by a thousand mosquito bites helped me maintain my practical wisdom.
Besides, I needed full length pants to conceal the affect that the sight in front of me was having on my crotch. My dick was responding to the movements of two sets of long, slender, well-tanned legs and firm, heart-shaped haunches that produced just the right jiggle. I was so hypnotized that I was having trouble holding my end of my conversation with Corey.
One minute I was fighting the urge to bury my face in Corey's ass, the next I was imagining what I would like to do to Jenny and Kaylynn's beautiful backsides.
I was thoroughly confused. I had no idea just where my dick pointed.
The only thing I was sure of was that I was an ass man.
I tried to take my eyes off of the girls in order keep from getting too noticeably hard in my pants. It was a hard thing to do for an eighteen-year-old. But when I noticed that Corey didn't seem to be distracted by the daisy-duked derrieres in front of us, I suddenly forgot all about them.
I knew I was jumping to conclusions. After all, one of the girls, jenny, was Corey's sister. But I figured any red-blooded, self-respecting, heterosexual teenage-male would be stealing as many glimpses of Kaylynn's heart-shaped glutes-of-glory as humanly possible. But he wasn't. He was looking at his feet, at me, at the surrounding forest, at me. Mostly at me.
Being so much shorter than me, when he turned his head toward me all he got was a look at my skinny shoulder. Unless he looked up. Which he didn't seem to be doing. He seemed to be looking down. Down at my legs as we walked. I didn't know what to think of this. It had to be just my horny, confused mind seeing what it wanted to see and not what was surely a simple reality.
What ever it was it had my heart racing again. Racing with hopes. Hopes I had never had before this trip. Hopes that a guy was interested in me, that he was attracted to me. Sexually.
That van I had climbed into seven days earlier turned out to be some kind of transformation chamber. I had instantly become someone I didn't recognize. That bridge with its wind-voiced warning was feeling more and more like the point of no return.
And I had crossed it.
I had crossed it about three hours earlier and was now standing at its edge once again. Only three hours and it already had a haunting feel. Like returning to a place of your childhood. A place with good but distant memories. Memories that evoke a somber sentimentalism; for the you that you were before you left here is gone forever. Dead.
The me that I was before I crossed here, before climbing into the Ford van that brought me here, seemed suddenly to be a part a very distant past.
I knew that even if Corey had no interest in me what-so-ever, outside of mere friendship, and that was most likely the case, that I was still a very different person than I had been before leaving Nevada. A totally different person than I had thought that I was. I had never once thought that I wanted to smell a guys ass before leaving the desert. I had checked out a few male bottoms, but had always figured they were just in my line of sight. Now I wanted to bury my face in one.
We crossed back over the trestle and made our way to the van and the cargo trailer we had pulled behind. While us kids were organizing the supplies on the ground into logical piles for the easiest order of transport, Corey's dad, Larry, unloaded his ATV from the trailer and readied it for use. It didn't take much for Larry to relent to Corey's reasoning that he be the one to drive the four-wheeler first.
"Cool then me and Aaron will take the first load up," Corey said as soon as the word was given.
This announcement revved my pulse again.
"Hey, man cool with you?" Corey asked.
"sure."
The incidental contact of the girls' bare knees against my arms as we all bent and squatted and reached across the pile of supplies had been enjoyable, but hadn't made my own legs tremble like the thought of riding on the ATV with Corey.
The rest of the group would finish organizing the supplies before taking what they could carry by hand and making the three-mile hike for the third time that day. So I wasn't exactly against getting to ride back up to the cabin instead of walking and carrying heavy packs. But it would prove to be even more torturous than I thought.
As Corey and I loaded the four-wheeler and the tiny little trailer hooked to it with the food and cooking utensils, my mind was spinning so fast that I couldn't even tie a simple knot in the rope. Then one of the Bungy cords that I failed to secure properly snapped back and stung me on the side of the neck. The mosquito net I was wearing didn't soften the blow at all. After everyone was sure I hadn't been seriously injured, they all had a raucous laugh. I had to join them. What could I do? It was funny. At least it brought me out of my haze.
Finally it was time to climb on. Corey hopped on first. After starting the engine he unscrewed the gas cap, peered in, then replaced it - out of habit I guess - then motioned with his head for me to get on. I studied the situation for a moment. The stuff we had tied down to the cargo rack above the rear wheels of the ATV was such that there wasn't a lot of room for me between it and Corey. It was going to be a snug fit. I could see immediately that my crotch was going to be pressed tightly against Corey's ass.
My heart began racing again. Racing out of fear of getting an erection that Corey would be able to feel. I swallowed hard and stuck one of my long, skinny legs between Corey and the cargo until it reached the ground on the other side of the Honda. I then lowered my ass down to the seat, feeling my package nestle in against the cleft between Corey's ass cheeks. I braced my cowboy boots against the footrests and off we went.
It was very slow going as we navigated the trestle walkway. With only two inches to spare on either side, it took a steady hand to keep the ATV from colliding with the safety railings. It was possible to take the Honda across the bridge over the railroad tracks themselves but the danger was in not knowing the schedule of the trains that traveled to and from a nearby coalmine. So it was steady-as-she-goes across the walkway.
The minute we left the wooden planks of the bridge for the hard dirt trail Corey sped up significantly. There was a couple hundred yards of straight, smooth trail in front of us before it turned into a narrow, rutted, rock-riddled path a mountain goat would rather not take for the rest of the way. So this was the last chance to feel the wind in our faces and Corey was taking full advantage.
Finally he slowed and with the first bouncing, rocking motion caused by the roughness of the trail the problems began. It was causing my crotch and Corey's ass to continually grind together vigorously. I was becoming nauseated with anxiety. I didn't want to get a hard-on but it was nearly impossible not to. Sitting so close to Corey also allowed me to take in his scent. The exertion of three hours of walking and hefting around supplies had made all of us a little sweaty on top of the aroma of seven days of road travel with less-than-adequate bathing opportunities. But, somehow, Corey wasn't giving off anything that was anywhere near offensive. It was simply a manly essence that was tempered slightly by the savor of the remains of his boyhood.
The combination of his smell and the action against my crotch was driving me out of my mind. I was fighting like hell to deny myself a boner against incredible stimuli. What's more, there was another two and a half miles of this trail to go and we could only go at a snail's pace. But just when I though I wouldn't be able to hold out any longer and was going to sprout the biggest, most embarrassing erection I'd ever had, Corey stopped the four-wheeler and turned off the engine.
"Gotta take a piss," he said and hopped off.
"Good idea," I mumbled.
I walked in the opposite direction that Corey had gone and stepped behind a large tree. I fished my dick out of my jeans and began pissing. I was amazed that I had only incurred some minor thickening to a cock that, being eighteen years old, was chronically hard most of the time anyway. As my piss stream began to slow I began thinking of the rest of the ride. Another hour of that kind of contact was going to be torture. My prick would thicken even more for sure.
Then the last few drops of urine dribbled out of me as my cock stiffened without me even touching it. The release of the pressure of a full bladder apparently allowed a full flow of blood to reach my penis. I was on the verge of sweating buckets. How was I going to hide this if I couldn't get it to go down in a hurry.
Now, on many occasions, I'd had a raging, full-blown boner in hand and all it took was one footstep in the hallway, that indicated that my mother was close, to flatten my phallus like the air had been let of a balloon; only without the fluttery sound and the whirl around the room. But the anxiety that was gushing through me at the thought of Corey seeing my condition wasn't having the same effect as my mother.
I shook, tucked and zipped and nearly panicked. The only chance I had was to un-tuck my shirt. I was such a dork in those days that not only did I wear cowboy boots and tight wrangler jeans, but I sported flannel western shirts as well; and I always tucked them in. fortunately they were rather long which was perfect for my predicament.
I strolled back over to the four-wheeler and sat down on the seat. Corey was still several yards into the trees doing his thing. He must've really had to drain his main vein. I was staring off into space, trying to keep from thinking about my crotch, and didn't hear Corey approach from the side.
"man, that must've stung," he said, looking at the mark on my neck from the bungy cord. Even though his voice was soft, I jumped when he spoke.
"Sorry " he said.
"That's okay," I said, "was daydreaming."
"That mark is already looking gruesome it's gonna be really nice and nasty lookin' in the morning," he said. Then he slowly reached up and lifted the mosquito net up out of the way and ran a finger over the wound with his other hand.
I wanted to pull back, to slap his hand away. It seemed like the right thing to do. I didn't want him to think that I didn't mind being touched by a guy. But if he wanted to touch me, then I didn't want him to think that he couldn't. My mind was a mess.
Whatever the case, I didn't move. His hand just barely made contact with the red welt at first. I didn't even flinch. Then he touched it again, this time rubbing it slightly. He moved his head in to get a close look and I could feel his breath on my neck as he rubbed again.
As he studied my second idiot-indicator of the day, I glanced down at his crotch. I could see a dark spot about the size of a quarter on his faded jeans. He obviously didn't shake well enough. I suddenly wanted to lean down and lick that wet spot, to suck his piss through the fabric. Good Gawd! What was happening to me? Where were these thoughts coming from? My mind was doing loopty-loops!
"Does it hurt much?" he asked, interrupting my thoughts.
"Nah," I answered as our eyes locked momentarily. I must've read a thousand different far-fetched meanings in his eyes in the second and a half that our gazes held. I scared myself for thinking each and every one of them.
He continued looking at it for longer than what I thought was prudent for a guy merely concerned for a friend, or even for a guy just fascinated by blood and gore. But, then, I was sure it was just my imagination jumping to conclusions. Any onlooker would've figured it was absolutely normal. Telling myself this helped to slow my spinning mind.
That is until his hand slid from the welt on my neck down to my shoulder and stayed there.
"you know, it's perfectly okay for you talk more. You don't have to be so quiet," he said and gave my shoulder a couple of massaging rubs.
"heh," was all I could manage to say. His eyes were trying to hold contact with mine now but I couldn't seem to oblige him. I kept glancing away, shyly.
"I've been wanting to say that since the first day in the van, but I didn't want to embarrass you in front of everyone. This is the first time we've been alone." He kept trying to look deep into my eyes as he spoke.
"Uh I just don't say much you know uh, naturally." I stammered, feeling like a fool.
"I see well, I'm gonna get more outta ya this summer Just wait," he said with a mischievous smile. He then put one foot on the ATV and stepped over with his other leg until he was straddling the seat. This put his ass right in my face. He stood like this for a few seconds before lowering his perfect little backside down against my crotch.
My crotch! I had forgotten about my erection! Corey's attention to my neck had made me completely forget about it but it was still there! At full mast!
After getting settled he seemed to pause. I know he could feel it. He had to. If he was pressed any tighter against me, he would've been behind me. He slowly reached out with his thumb and pushed the ignition button on the left handle bar. The four-wheeler came to life beneath us. The vibration of the engine only served to increase the pleasure of having a hard-on. Everything seemed to be working against me!
I didn't know what Corey was waiting for. We just sat there with the engine running. I opened my mouth to say that I would just walk along side for a while, but before the words came out Corey pressed the accelerator with his right thumb and we lurched forward.
My pulse was pounding in my ears, my guts were trembling, and sweat was pouring down the sides of my face, causing the mosquito net to stick to my skin. I didn't know what would blow first: a load of penis-pudding from all the grinding against Corey's ass, or my lunch from the nauseating fear of what Corey must be thinking of me and the possibility that he would tell all the others. He hadn't struck me as the type that would tell everyone just to be mean, but, then, I didn't think that I was the type that would want to smell a guys ass or lick the piss from his pants!
Somehow the nausea in my stomach kept me from filling my pants with nut-butter, but my boner didn't go down for the rest of the ride. I was relieved when Corey stepped off of the four-wheeler once we arrived at the cabin. Relieved that the pressure on my groin was gone, along with the worry of squirting a load. But, now that we were here and Corey had turned to face me, it was time for me to face whatever he was going to say about the erection that had grinded against him for an hour.
He stood looking around and the landscape for a moment, taking in deep breaths.
"I love the smell of the outdoors," he said. Then his eyes lowered to my crotch. They only stayed there for a fraction of a second, but it seemed like ten minutes. But even a tenth of a second was long enough for me to assume all kinds of things.
Everything from him merely trying to verify what he'd felt, to him hoping it was what he'd felt. Then I remembered that my shirt was covering me down to my mid thighs. He couldn't verify anything. This didn't help my stomach any.
"If we get this unloaded fast, we can take a hike around," Corey said without looking directly at me. "I can show you how far our property goes. Or we can just enjoy what will probably be the only time we'll have the cabin to ourselves the rest of the summer cuz believe me, a cabin full of those idiots for ten weeks is gonna drive you nuts. I know it will me."
"yeah, okay," I said. I stood slowly from the seat of the Honda, watching Corey's face the entire time. He never looked at me. He focused on untying the ropes around the cargo.
"We'll just set the food on the counter in the kitchen. If we try to put it away we'll never put in the right place to satisfy my mom." Corey spoke as he diligently manipulated the ropes.
One by one we carried the cases of soup and dried noodles and other food and all the cooking utensils into the cabin. It didn't take long to finish the task and we both sat down in the living room. It was merely an area with a very ratty hide-a-bed sofa and several folding chairs and a woodstove. This was not a luxury cabin for sure.
"So what do you want to do?" Corey asked, staring out the window.
For seven days on the road he never spoke to me without looking me straight in the eye. He was even touching me, almost caressing me, on the trail less than an hour ago. But ever since we stepped off of the four-wheeler just a few minutes earlier, he hadn't looked at me. Except a quick glance at my crotch. I knew it was because he was disgusted by me, by someone who would get a fucking hard-on from riding on a ATV with another guy.
Actually, he probably thought that it was from him touching me since he became aware of it just after rubbing the wound on my neck. Either way, I was sure he was sickened at the thought of being in Alaska with a faggot. Which is what I was beginning to think of my self. What else could all these thoughts in my head mean? If you want to sniff and lick a guy's ass and suck the piss from his pants you must be a faggot. If you hope that he finds you attractive then you must be a faggot.
Knowing that this bible-thumper was undoubtedly straight as an arrow made me ache worse than the realization that I must be a faggot.
I kept raising my hopes by wondering what all his little oddities really meant. Like staring at my legs as we walked instead of an eighteen-year-old female ass that would bring most men to tears. Or rubbing my neck; or wanting me to go with him on the four-wheeler; or wanting me to sleep next to him in the tent and in the loft.
Then I would dash those hopes by chalking it up to him being the kind of guy that I wished I was; that I thought I was before this trip. A guy who is so confident in his manhood, so secure in his masculinity, who knows who he is so well that he can do these things with out feeling awkward.
He could touch a guy out of concern without thinking it was sexual in anyway. He was probably just looking at my cowboy boots. After all, how often did he ever see someone our age wearing such a dorky thing? He surely noticed Kaylynn's ass, he was just better at controlling his lust and was man enough to be respectful and not go around ogling nice, sweet girls. He knew not to treat women like pieces of meat.
As far as wanting me to sleep next to him, most of the other guys did have a bit of a B.O. problem. Besides, he did seem to appreciate a good, intelligent conversation. Something that I was convinced I was the only one capable of providing. I had inadvertently overheard the others chatting during the road trip and was dumbfounded at the lack of common knowledge and ability to speak coherently.
Corey was just someone who liked to discuss things more profoundly than: "shit, yeah, dude! That shit's hell-a-cool!" and "I was all like, whoa!" and "'cuz, like, you know, 'r whatever?"
Corey was simply a man. A real man.
A confident, bible-reading, girl-marrying, intelligent, straight man.
A man who, for some really strange reason enjoyed the company of a shy, skinny dork. Until now. Now he couldn't look at the dork. The faggot.
I ached. I know they call it a heartache, but it was more like my whole body was aching, like hunger pangs. My body and my heart hungered for Corey and the attention that he'd given me the last seven days. I craved his touch. But it was all slipping away.
I was also hungering for a return to the feelings and thoughts that I had before this trip, before ever laying eyes on Corey. To the view of the world I held that didn't confuse me so badly. To the days when the view of a guy's ass didn't arouse me.
I just ached. It just hurt to see Corey avoid looking at me.
The one good thing was that all this sudden emotional pain caused by Corey's new-found distaste had completely softened my dick.
"Well?" Corey asked, pulling me from my self-pitying thoughts. I hadn't answered his question about what I wanted to do.
"What ever you want, man," I said and looked up. He was looking right at me, into my eyes.
"You're the guest, guy. It's up to you." He smiled that damned little smile again. That handsome, athletic-stud smile edged by adorable, baby-brother dimples.
"Uh," I stammered, "take a look around I guess."
"Alright, let's do it!" he said, enthusiastically, and headed for the door of the cabin.
Had I been about to puke from the pain of a heartache for nothing? Had I been way too over-dramatic? Was this what it was like to be a woman?
My mind was more confused than ever.
I didn't know what to think or what to wish for. I wanted him to continue touching me and talking to me. But I also wanted him to just leave me alone so I'd know for sure, one way or the other, just what was what. I couldn't take the ups and downs anymore. Especially since they were all instigated by my own mind.
What ever the case, I was going to firmly accept that he was straight. I wasn't going to let my heart hope for any of the far-fetched meanings my mind made a habit of finding behind natural gestures.
"Instead of walking, we'll take the four-wheeler again," Corey announced as we walked out the door.
Well, there went that vow.
My mind was immediately questioning why he would want to sit together on the ATV again if he was appalled at the idea of an erection which the last ride had caused.
Unless he hadn't been appalled.
I pushed that thought away. I didn't want to start that again.
"Hop on, man," Corey chirped after releasing the little trailer and leap-frogging on to the Honda.
I slowly walked toward the idling ATV, my mind spinning so fast it was almost clear, like a propeller on an airplane. I stepped over and straddled the machine behind Corey. But, before lowering down, I realized that since all the supplies were no longer in the way I could sit further back on the seat. I could even sit squarely on the cargo rack. Which I did.
Corey turned his head around to say something and apparently had expected to see me immediately behind him. Once he saw my new position I could've sworn he looked disappointed. But, I wasn't going to let myself follow those leads anymore.
He stared at me, seemingly at my legs and where they were now in relation to him, for several seconds. Then, without saying whatever he'd turned around to say, he turned back and pressed the accelerator.
We bounced and jiggled and swayed our way through the trees, carving our own trail through the Alaskan forest. After a good twenty minutes of gearing through the undergrowth we arrived at a large clearing. A semi-circle about a hundred yards long and fifty yards wide, edged in towering spruce trees that formed a natural wall and carpeted with a sparse covering of rough grass, looked out over a wide though shallow valley. We climbed off of the ATV and stood at the edge of the clearing. The rise in elevation as we rode through the woods was so gradual that it was bit of a surprise that we were actually looking down at the shabby little cabin.
Corey began pointing out the boundaries of the forty acres that his father owned. As he talked, my mind began to replay some of the events of the last few days and hours, re-asking the questions; re-noticing the things about his body and his personality that aroused me. Fortunately my cock stayed in check.
"Come over this way," he said, motioning for me to follow him to a spot about twenty feet away. I followed with my eyes on him and no where else. He suddenly stopped and bent over to tie a loose shoe-lace. For a moment he fussed with the lace from a simple, folded-in-half position that displayed his ass at the optimum angle. My cock stirred. I had to look away.
After a few seconds he lowered one knee down to the ground while he finished cinching up the shoe. This position was arousing as well as his shirt rode up to expose the waistband of his Calvin Klein briefs and the milky smooth skin just above the start of his crack. I stared intently at a nearby tree to keep my dick from tingling anymore.
He finally stood and continued on to the spot that he wanted to show me.
"See, down there "
He pointed out something in the distance but to this day I can't remember what it was. My mind was filled with images of his ass and curdling confusion.
I mumbled some generic uh, huhs as he spoke, but I didn't hear a word he was saying.
Suddenly I realized there was a silence. He wasn't speaking. I immediately worried that he had noticed that I had been tuned out and was offended by my lack of interest. But as I looked into his face, I knew it was something else.
He was looking at my neck again.
To be continued
Hope your eyes didn't go bad reading a story so long, and sorry for the lack of sex scenes there will be some sex in the next chapter
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