Tristan

Tristan by Henry H. Hilliard

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"Tris," said Colton who had come back from the shower and was dressed in just his plaid boxers. "Have y'done what you promised y'dad?"

Tristan was busy with his trimmers shaving down Parker who was, ludicrously, lying naked on Tristan's bed holding his arse cheeks lewdly apart. "Colt, can't you see I'm doing important work here. One slip and..."

"C'mon, man. Y'promised."

Parker sat up. "If y'gotta do somethin' dude, I can come back later or get Hollis to do it."

"No, no!" cried Tristan in alarm. He looked at Parker who was now smooth like a child, except that his physique was that of a college lacrosse player. His skin was rather red where his thick black hair had been scraped clean and Tristan was keen to apply cooling lotion to the attractively inflamed parts.

"What is it y'all gotta to do?"

"I promised Dad that I would email my mum. I haven't heard from her since Christmas."

"She ain't phoned or emailed?"

"No."

"Well, you ain't either, Tris," said Colt.

"I don't feel like it. I'll think about doing it next week."

"I think we needs to persuade this here boy to obey the Fifth Commandment, Park."

"Y'mean the one about no wanking?"

"No, dumbass. Grab him!"

Tristan struggled but was quickly subdued. Parker held him while Colton tickled him. Tristan thrashed and yelled. This brought Hollis to the door and who stood there and watched. They swapped and Colton held Tristan in an iron grip while the naked Parker tickled him, his big circumcised piece flopping around. Tristan felt himself lose bladder control for an instant through his laughter and protests.

"Gas warfare!" declared Colton and managed to position his arse over Tristan's face. He let a fart rip and Tristan squealed.

"I've got one for a sinner who covets his neighbour's ass," said Parker. They managed to swap places and Parker's naked arse, not to mention his dangly bits, was only inches above the squirming Tristan. It was a `silent but deadly'.

"Fuck, Parker!" cried Hollis at the door, fanning himself. "That'll set of the smoke alarms."

Eventually this jock chastisement came to an end. Tristan promised to email his mother and Colton effortlessly lifted him from the bed and dumped him into his computer chair. The others left him for Parker's room, taking the clippers with them.

Soon Colt swaggered back. "Well?"

"I've done it. Can I read it to you?"

"Yeah," said Colton as he stood in the doorway, scratching his left nipple.

"Hi Mum..." Tristan hoped that his mother was keeping well since we last saw each other'. "I thought it best to make no mention of the Christmas card or our fight at the funeral." He told of his academic success in the first semester. He said that he had bought an old timber house with some of Gran's money' and that his father was helping him with it.

"Tell her y'will send a pic, Tris." He made this addition.

Then he described his roommate and how he had been to his parents' farm.

"I don't know what else to say, Colt."

"Is there a personal thang y'can say or recall?"

Tristan thought hard then wrote: Colton has a lovely singing voice and plays the acoustic guitar. He plays C & W songs and when I'm depressed it cheers me up. Do you remember the time when you sang to me in bed when I was very sick with pneumonia or something? I would not drink the beef broth unless you sang Under the Sea and do the whole reggae thing. You had to read me Where the Wild Things Are at least twice a day until the antibiotics kicked in because it was my favourite story. I'm rather like Max, I suppose. I remember being sick, but really happy at the same time. Are you still singing in the Inns of Court Choir? You have a very good voice too, Mum.

"Perfect."

Tristan had tears streaming down his cheeks and kept wiping his eyes with the back of this hand as he typed. "I will close with love to her and Rodger, to show no hard feelings on my part." He gave a big sniff.

"That's the way, Tris. You should be a diplomat," said Colton gently.

"Yeah, well, if she doesn't reply, there's nothing I can do. Fuck her!" He sniffed again and Colt came across and put his arm around him. Tristan pressed `send'.

"Yeah, but you're doin' the right thing, Tris. Always keep talkin'."

Tristan was still upset when it was time to turn in. "Come on, Tris. Don't take it so hard," said Colton as he slid off his boxers and flicked them into the corner with his toe. "Maybe y'mom's really hurtin'. Maybe y'email will do her a power o'good." He scratched his balls.

"She changed when Dad cheated on her. She worshipped Dad when I was little. He was always the one in charge, but now she is...I don't know. She was always pretty no-nonsense--you know, with her job and all, but she wasn't really hard like she's become. I guess I was a disappointment to her when I turned out to be gay. I mean it was just one more thing out of whack that she couldn't put right, like with Dad. I suppose she saw no grandkids as another sign of the failure of her family. Maybe that's why she latched on to Roger and his ready made one."

"Maybe, Tris. You have to make your own way now."

"Am I too much of a baby?"

"Well, y'all only nineteen. I suppose we spend the rest of our lives tryin' to figure out our folks. Usually when it's too late."

"Or when we have already become like them. Am I like my parents?"

"Can't say, Roomy."

Colton put his arm around him and there was silence while each thought about his family. "I love the smell of your pits. I'm almost sorry you've showered."

"You like m'man smells? Even m'farts."

"Yeah, even your farts are hot, Colt."

"I'll work on 'em for y'all special. Get in there and clean m'man pits with y'tongue like a good boy."

Tritan set to work and `worshipped' Colton's pits and pecs, just like the freshman in Timmy and the Tit Man. "That story is plum ridiculous," said Colton after Tristan précised it between licks. "No coach would have prisoners from a road gang join a high school wrestling team, even in Ash Grove."

"Artistic licence?" suggested Tristan as he licked lower and lower down Colton's torso.

"Tris, y'got me all worked up. D'ya tink y'ready?"

"You mean for..."

"Yeah, 'xactly what I mean. You wanna take me?"

"Do you want to take me?"

"Yeah."

"Then so do I. I will try not to over think it, Colt."

"Well y'first time will still be special. It will be with the starting quarterback. Acceptable?"

"More than. But my first time will be with my best friend. My straight bro."

Colt ruffled Tristan's dark hair. "Tris, that's plum nice, but I don't want to hurt y'all."

"Look Colt, right now I don't care if I haemorrhage to death."

"Ain't a nice thought. Where would I get another roomy?"

"I'll just slip across to the bathroom."

Tristan was back after ten minutes and Colton immediately took charge. He had Tristan suck him then worked on Tristan's butt with his tongue. Tristan marvelled at how Colt didn't find this action degrading. Plenty of lube was applied--enough to please Dr Baddeley, had she been there which, fortunately, she wasn't.

"This is gunna be noisy, Tris; we gotta keep it down. Traditional solution?"

Tristan nodded and Colton stuffed his boxers into his mouth. It was useless to say it, but nevertheless Colton told Tristan to relax. This was the last thing that he could afterwards remember with any clarity.

Colt was a wonderful lover. He was commanding and athletic. Presumably it was his first time with a man, but Tristan felt that Colt was somehow in tune with his body. Of course it hurt at first; it hurt, well, like buggery, but then it didn't. Colton reapplied more lube at intervals. It felt so much better, so much more alive, than the synthetic dildo. He felt the wonderful connection to Colton who pressed in as far as he could go. Tristan wondered if his cock was pressing into his lungs because he couldn't breathe properly.

Colton bit his neck and pulled his hair. He turned Tristan over and bent his limbs like an artist's lay figure. The sweat poured off him and still he kept up the pounding. Tristan felt himself cum, without touching his cock. "Good boy," said Colton and Tristan felt absurdly happy that he had somehow pleased him.

"Spit on my face!" huffed Tristan recalling the action from Dominating Declan. Colt did and Tristan opened his mouth. It was the parody of a kiss.

Tristan had his arms clasped around Colt's strong neck when he came inside him. He only paused briefly and a few minutes later he came again. Tristan felt his guts spasm.

Then, to his surprise, Colton kissed him at the moment of consummation. This was almost as good as the other and Tristan felt himself black out for a moment.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! That was good," gasped Tristan when he came round.

"Get yourself off again, Tris. I want to see you shoot," Colton demanded with a fierce look in his eyes. He painfully stroked Tristan's cock until he was hard, then Tristan took over and managed to cum again. Colt expressed his satisfaction.

"Yeah, it was good f'me, Tris. Wanna, clean me off, or it that too gross?" he said in a business-like manner.

Tristan was high on being used and leapt on Colton's oozing organ and lovingly cleaned it with his tongue. The taste wasn't too bad.

"I'm a bit sensitive Tris, not too much suction." Colton fell back on the bed.

"I need to go to the bathroom, Colt."

"Y'can't keep it inside ya?"

"Not this time. I want to shit real bad."

"I'll come with ya."

Back in bed Tristan dared to voice what was on his mind. "You were okay will all that, Colt? I mean, it wasn't too gay for you?"

"Nah, it was cool with me. It was all about you, Tris."

"That kiss...you're an awesome kisser too."

"Well, I got a bit carried away. Don't read too much into it, Roomy. It wasn't even one of my best."

"Oh, but it must have been. Your tongue..."

Colton seized Tristan and kissed him with a fierce passion. Their tongues battled, Colt dragged on his lower lip; he wrapped his strong, naked arms about his head until he couldn't breathe and did all manner of things that Tristan was too distracted to record accurately.

At last: "Now that's one of m'best. See, I've got you hard again. The chicks let me do anything to 'em after one of those."

When Tristan regained his breath he said: "I like it when you're aggressive, when you take control. It's very masculine and I feel good that I'm in your thrall."

"What's that mean?"

"Under your power. I get off on your muscles, your dominance and all that."

"Well, I get off on you gettin' off on me. I get a buzz when I can make y'cum. I'm the man!"

"Just like with a chick?"

"Yeah, just like that, 'xcept I can be rougher with you and there's no strings attached. 'Course we are still roomies, still best buds--that ain't changed one bit."

"No, that hasn't changed," said Tristan. He had told himself that he wasn't going to be confused, but he couldn't help it. It was there like a nagging doubt. He tried to push it out of his mind. Life was good, he allowed, and rolled closer to Colton and put his arm around his torso and laid his palm on his rippling abdominals.

"Nope, I just don't believe that, Iain. Social Darwinism has too many flaws to be taken seriously."

"What do you mean, Colton?"

"Well, Spencer believed that certain human traits were hereditary when we now know they ain't genetic at all--like being a hard worker or being moral. He was trying to justify the status quo rather than doing proper science." Colton drained his glass of wine. "In fact, if y'all think about it, there might very well be advantages to bein' laid back and immoral--less stress on y'health with the first, a better provider for y'family if you're a crook. Good genes to pass on, but it ain't genetic of course. And not every trait is evolutionary." Macpherson nodded. "Malthus was wrong too when he said that human society will always struggle because food supply can only increase arithmetically whereas population increases geometrically. That's just ain't true, is it? Natural selection is slow and yet they think only in terms of the next generation--for political reasons. Our physiology and behaviours evolved well before modern societies. It's much more subtle than the Nazis' bullshit."

"Have you heard about the McAlester Riots in Oklahoma?"

"Yeah, the prisoners who fought against having their balls cut off in the 1930s"

"That's right. They actually took the case to the Supreme Court and won. It was widely believed that criminality was able to be passed on."

"Well that's simply ain't true and even if it was, it presupposes that breakin' the rules doesn't have some advantage to the individual who will pass his genes on or to the wider society. It might, for all we know."

"They were targeting foreigners and drunks, not white collar criminals."

"Yeah, that's the Social Dawinists all over, not proper scientists at all."

Colton had been invited to dinner with Tristan at Dr Macpherson's. Colton was a little apprehensive about meeting the University staff socially, although this did not apply to the football coaching staff, as Tristan reminded him.

Colton had never eaten Thai food before, so this was another first. He fumbled with his chopsticks, but managed.

After some wine, Colton relaxed and impressed the academics. They had originally wanted to talk about football, but Colton was at pains to show that he wasn't another dumb jock and Tristan aided in shifting the topics of conversation to those where he knew Colton had something to say.

Tristan left them talking and went into the kitchen with Iona Macpherson to prepare the coffee.

"You once said that you have taken up writing, Iona. What are you writing?" asked Tristan as they waited for the water to boil.

"Well, Tristan, if you can keep a secret, I write fiction--for on-line sites. I find it great fun and I receive heaps of fan mail."

"With dragons and stuff?"

"No, more romantic themes."

"Wow! I'm impressed. I like on-line fiction too, although my tastes are a little racy, I must confess."

"What kind of stories do you like?"

"Well, stories about student life in colleges and frats--that sort of stuff, but less romantic than..."

"Erotic?"

Tristan went red but nodded, "Yeah."

"Ever read Greek Vice, Greek Life?

"Oh my God! The one about the English exchange student and the sociopath pledgemaster?

"No, that was Alpha Kappa Basement."

"You wrote those?"

Iona smiled modestly. "I told you I found a way not to be bored here."

"I don't believe it!" cried Tristan but hushing his voice. He looked at Dr Macpherson and tried to equate the bespectacled woman before him with creator of jack-off material.

"It's true. Now, don't look at me like that! I'm not quite dead yet." Tristan said he was sorry. "Another one I'm proud of is Sorority Vampires--it's sort of lesbian thriller. I don't suppose you've read that one?"

"No, that's more Colt's taste." Tristan had his mouth agape for several minutes until the authoress spoke again.

"He's a handsome boy. He has lots of girlfriends?"

"About six in the last semester, although most of them were just..."

"Petits passades?"

"If that means one night stands, then yes. He's very popular with the football and all that."

"And I bet he's hung like a horse," she whispered. Tristan went red but nodded. She laughed. "I'll have to put him in one of my stories."

"I'd rather you didn't. By the way, how do you write for your audience? I mean you're an academic..."

"Oh, I slip into the vernacular. I listen to Iain's students a lot. I put in deliberate errors like dangling participles and a wrong homonym or two. You'd be surprised how easy it is."

"And, er...the research?"

"You mean the sex? Just my bored imagination. You know, Iain hasn't once asked to read what I write. I laugh to myself and think how Lacrosse Twins at Georgia Tech was more popular than Iain's The German Economy in the Time of Bismarck.

The coffee was ready and Tristan carried the tray into the other room.

Tristan felt he could not initiate sex with his roommate, indeed he was even loath to call it that; it was much safer to say helping each other out' and getting off'. This was confirmed in Mounted Cavalry Cadets, which was another story set locally by Iona Macpherson who wrote under the nom-de-plume, `Horny Dude'. Colt was adamant that Tristan was not his boyfriend and Tristan was careful to preserve this distinction for fear of losing him entirely. Indeed one night Colt did not come home after picking up a woman at a football function. The women was a sports reporter for a Texas newspaper and the occasion was the devastating loss suffered by the College Team in the championship, which was played at the Tobacco Bowl. The victors had been their old rivals from the all-black College in Galveston, who proved to be just too good, despite Colton's brilliant efforts in offence as the quarterback.

Despite this loss, it was said that Colton was being looked at seriously by NFL recruiters. Texas was fertile recruiting ground for the NFL and Colton had already come to their notice while he was still in High School, although it was forbidden to make inducements while Colton was still in College. But this did little to brighten his despondent mood when the bus returned. Tristan and some of the others had gone to support the team. So had Dr Baddeley and Colt's parents and Matt, his brother. Colt felt that he had let everybody down.

Back in the dorm room he was getting changed for the party, which was still going ahead--although now it was more like a wake.

"We'll do better next season," said Colton as he pulled on a pale blue polo shirt. It was tight across his pecs and his nipples were prominently displayed and seemed somehow a sign to the opposite sex (and indeed to Tristan) of his sexual availability. Tristan thought this was a positive attitude and was pleased. "Of course, next year will probably be my last season."

"What?" gasped Tristan. "What about the National League?"

"I never said I wanted to be an NFL player. Other people may have thought it. Yeah, I love football, but I'm here to get an education. I don't want to be a professional football player, even if I was drafted. Never have." Colton was searching in the basket for underwear.

"I had no idea, Colt. You never said. I mean your just so fuckin' brilliant, it will be a waste if you don't keep playing. It's who you are."

"Thanks, Tris," said Colt, straightening up, "but I ain't never wanted to be just a footballer. Look, I might still play as a senior if I can still study, but it's ain't who I am. I'm sorry if this shatters a fantasy."

"I suppose you are my fantasy," said Tristan ruefully. "I was fucked by the quarterback."

"Y'said, `I was fucked by my best friend'. Ain't that more important?"

"Sorry, yes of course it is. You're my hero, football or not. Here wear these." Tristan passed over a pair of mesh trunks. "See? They lace in the front like a football. Very sexy, Colty."

"Wa-hoo!" cried Colton after he squeezed them on and then did a little dance in front of the mirror. "I'm one sexy motherfucker!"

Tristan laughed, but had to agree. He ran his hands all over Colt's body before Colt had to slap him away for fear of `busting his nut' before he even got to the party.

They were on the way to the party, Hollis, Parker and Deshawn walking a little way ahead of them, still thrashing out what went wrong with the game.

"Ever been campin' Tris?"

"You mean in a tent and stuff?"

"Yeah. Tent, hiking boots, primus stove, shit-in-a-hole and all that."

"No, not really. I mean, I'm a Londoner and even when I went on camps with School, it was in chalets--you know, `cabins'--if not hotels."

"Well, I was kinda hopin' you'd like to go--I mean go with me--jus' you n'me, sometime. Y'all might love it. Mom and Dad bought m'gear up an' Doull let me put it in the storeroom.

"That sounds interesting," replied Tristan guardedly. "No, I mean that sounds good, Colt. I'd love to go, but you'd have to show me what to do and I don't think I could hike if it was too difficult."

"No, I've picked a park that has easy trails as well as ones for serious hikers."

"You've picked one already?"

"Yeah, next weekend. I only have to confirm our campsite."

"My God, Colt! Next weekend! You could have given me warning, I mean..."

"What's to warn? If y'can't go on Friday, I ain't agoin'. All y'need is some boots. I'll tell y'all what to buy."

The party was held at the stadium. Leesha, Rachel and the cheer squad put on a special performance before there were speeches and awards. Colt won the Most Valuable Player and Deshawn won defensive player of the year. De was pleased, but still down as his parents had journeyed from Tupelo only to witness the great loss.

Then there was drinking and dancing--any prohibition on alcohol seemingly ignored by the College authorities. Colton was greatly feted by these authorities, who placed success in football above any academic achievements. He was also the object of focus by persons connected with the football industry'. One of these was an attractive reporter, perhaps ten years Colton's senior. Professional talk turned into something else. Tristan saw them dancing, Colton's height made him stand out even in a crowd of footballers. He looked hot', thought Tristan, not for the first time. As if on cue, Colton's hand slid down to her arse--perhaps in time to the music--and her hand slid down the front of Colton's tight Wranglers for an exploratory grope. Apparently all was satisfactory. They did a good deal of whispering into each other's ears. Tristan felt sick, but knew the routine and so tried not to let it get to him. He saw Colton's full and sensuous lips brush her neck. Then they vanished.

Thus Tristan, not occupying the exalted, although often fleeting position, of Colton's `girlfriend' knew he just had to cope with what his less rational mind thought of as infidelity.

Colt did not emerge from wherever he had been until late the following afternoon. "How was it?" inquired Tristan as simply as he could.

"Oh, y'mean with Rebecca?"

"Was that her name?"

"Yeah. Well, she was impressed with Colty's statistics and is goin' t'do a feature on me in the Houston paper."

"I'll bet. Will they print something like that?"

"I mean my football stats, dumbass, although the other might make interestin' readin'. I fucked her four times and she sucked me off twice--the first time in her Audi just in the stadium lot. We did it in the shower too."

"Wow!"

"Yeah, it was one of m'better performances; she was, like, orgasming almost continually--I only heard that some chicks could do that. She was pert insane for Colty's lovin'. Only pity is that m'performance on the field weren't as starring. I let the side down."

"No you didn't, Colt."

"Thanks for sayin' so." Colton fiddled with his phone. "Rebecca's husband is a photographer and he'll take the pictures to go with her article, but I gotta get the permission of the Faculty."

"She has a husband?"

"Yeah, he used to play football for the Steelers. Perhaps it's best if I delete these photos in case they fall into the wrong hands."

Tristan was about to ask if he could have a look, but it was too late.

"We goin' to Nonno's?"

Thus life returned to normal--or rather as before. Tristan still `helped' Colton out, jacking him and sucking him morning and night, without reciprocation. Colton was always keen for Tristan to cum--and to cum more than once-- and was especially keen for him to orgasm without touching himself, which he saw as something of a tribute to himself. Tristan pointed out that this was more likely if he were anally stimulated, but stopped short of actually asking Colton to fuck him.

"I've heard from my mother, Colt, said Tristan who was seated at his laptop. Colt was on his weights' bench, naked except for Tristan's favourite jockstrap. He didn't like Tristan's tone.

"What did she say?"

"Not much." Tristan gave a short, unconvincing laugh. "She got the name of this university wrong again. She says it is a great shame on the family that Gran should have left the house to me--well, actually it was only half the house--she probably would be disgusted if Aunty Jean got any too, but conveniently doesn't mention that. Says that Rodger is adamant that it should have gone to her by rights. I don't believe that for a moment. Didn't say anything about my grades or Dad helping me, or anything. There you are!"

"Like I said, Tris, you did the right thing by emailing her. Now you know where you stand."

"I think I've known that for the last two years."

Colton was standing behind his chair, kneading his shoulders. "Money brings out the ugly side in most families, if you don't mind me sayin' so."

"Money and sex--the two driving forces."

The first weekend without football arrived and with it Colton's camping expedition. Tristan tried not to fuss (a failing) nor to be quite so apprehensive about life in the outdoors that was second nature to Colton, but quite unfamiliar to a Londoner. Tristan had purchased some boots, which he had worn for a couple of days to break in. He also bought some khaki hiking shorts. "No underwear, we're commando this weekend," ruled Colt as Tristan packed his rucksack on the Friday morning after they had returned from their run. At breakfast he had to suffer the taunts of the others who told unhelpful stories about bears and wolves and lack of cell phone reception.

After their last class Colton loaded the truck with gear. There was a box, which he said contained `food', something that was obviously a tent, an ominous-looking spade with a folding handle, a hatchet and a bedroll. "In the stories I've read," began Tristan who was watching proceedings...Colton rolled his eyes as he did something macho with ropes..."in those stories, they can zip the sleeping bags together for extra warmth. Can we do that?"

"Won't have to. It's a double and y'all won't get cold, I promise you."

"There us usually a ranger who is an ex-Marine with one of those moustaches that..."

Colton cut him off. "I've spoken to the ranger and she's a woman named Pearl."

Tristan was relieved to see a roll of lavatory paper and a bar of soap included. Some clanking indicated tin plates and mugs in a rucksack.

Then they were off, Carlos and Alexinia waving them away with more sarcastic remarks at Tristan's expense.

Tristan drove east for an hour or so until they reached the town of Huntsville where they stopped to fill-up and have coffee. Colton took the wheel and they headed south, passing a very large but otherwise undistinguished statue of Texas' founding father executed in white concrete. Soon they were in a National Park of pine and hardwood trees, with flowering dogwoods making quite a show. They drove until they came to the rangers' station. Colton got out and went to the office. Presently he returned with directions to their camping site.

They continued on and Tristan was comforted to see other campers setup in a well-organised site with a toilet block and electric power. There were many recreational vehicles hooked up. But, to his alarm, they did not stop at this last outpost of civilization but pressed on up hill for quite a distance. The road formed a loop on a hilltop and it was here that they stopped.

"There's no one here," observed Tristan.

"Yeah. Isn't it great? There's water, but no power or bathroom."

"How do we wash and take a shit?" asked Tristan bluntly.

"Come on, Tris, don't be like that. It will be great. Look, if you want to wash there's the creek at the bottom of the hill and it won't kill us to dig a hole. We can light a fire in that fire pit for warmth and look at that view!"

It was true; the view over lake and forest in the late afternoon sun was magnificent. So was the fresh air.

"Yeah. It's great, Colt," admitted the tenderfoot. "Thanks for thinking of this."

"Come on, set up time."

The nylon tent was very clever and self-supporting. There was just room for two when the sleeping bag was laid out. There was a supply of dry wood by the coldwater tap and soon they had a fire going in the pit that was lined with rocks. Tristan watched Colton working; he seemed in his element and it gave Tristan the same sort of thrill that he experienced when Colt was immersed in his other element--the football field.

By way of a clever contraption, water was boiled over the fire for instant coffee. The sun was going down and the temperature was dropping. Tristan put on the windcheater he had brought. The fire was very nice.

They went for a short walk to take in the pink evening landscape. The weather looked to be fine. Then they retuned to their campsite. Tins were produced and a meal of sausage and beans was cooked in a pan over the fire. It was Tristan's job to stir the mixture with a long handled fork and make sure the pan did not slip sideways into the coals. Colton marched off and dug a hole down wind of the tent.

"I don't think that I can shit with someone looking at me," lamented Tristan when Colton returned wiping his brow.

"Well, if we're sharin' the bathroom in the new loft we can't be shy, can we?"

"I don't suppose so. I got used to showering with the guys and it will be just you."

"That's the way, Tris. Overcome y'hangups."

Tristan dished out the meal onto tin plates and forks were produced from a box. "Where will we hike tomorrow?"

"The short trail. 'bout an hour-and-a-half each way. Shouldn't be too much for a beginner."

Tristan nodded and took a swig out of the fifth' of bourbon that Colt produced from his knapsack. It didn't go well with the beans, but it was warming and, in front of the fire, quite companionable to sit and pass the bottle between them. Colton talked of other camping trips he'd been on with his brothers and the other Coyotes'. He thought the Big Bend National Park way down on the Rio Grande would be a likely choice for a future trip `with the guys'. Tristan felt that he could begin to see the attractions.

The stars in the night sky looked so spectacular that it seemed a shame to light the battery lantern.

"Why didn't you bring your guitar?"

"Yeah, I shoulda."

Colt started to slap his palm on his meaty thigh and then launched into a Dwight Yoakum song, acapella. He sang in his light, clear voice into the pine forest, occasionally looking straight at Tristan to emphasise some phrase, all the while keeping up the tempo with his right hand.

The song died on his lips. "Wow!" exclaimed Tristan.

"Y'liked that, Buddy?" asked Colt as he wrapped his now stilled arm around Tristan's neck in a friendly gesture.

"It was beautiful, Colt; I really mean that. I mean the song, your voice, this place...you."

"Y'darn easy to soften up, Roomy. Let's turn in. I'm fixin' to fuck y'brains out and y'can scream n' moan as loud as y'like. No one will hear year but the other coyotes."

Tristan tried not to scramble to his feet with indecent haste, but it was hard not too. It seemed to take Colton forever to douse the campfire and tidy the site.

"Got y'boots off in there?" asked Colton when he at last entered the tent.

Tristan had already wriggled into the sleeping bag naked.

"Let me," said Tristan as Colt went to undo his boots. Colton gave a little snort as he pulled off his tee-shirt while Tristan untied the complicated laces.

"M'feet are a might sweaty, Tris," warned Colton, but it was useless for Tristan was already tonguing the broad, arched sole of his right foot as Colton tried to steady himself in the low tent. He eventually lay down so Tristan could work on both his feet, licking them sensuously and massaging them firmly. Colton smiled in the dark. Then Tristan worked on each toe with his mouth.

When there was a pause, Colton dropped his shorts. "Tongue m'hole--that's sweaty too." He squatted on his hands and knees and presented his arse to Tristan in the lamplight, the coarse golden hair catching it.

Tristan set to work, wanting to bring him as much pleasure as possible. Colton moaned and swore whereas Tristan could do little more than grunt as he slobbered and snuffled like a pig.

Eventually Colton turned over and Tristan took the opportunity to wash him all over with his hard-worked tongue, causing Colton to shudder like an earthquake. "Fuck that's fine!" he gasped as he stroked his cock. Tristan pushed his hand away and picked up the big organ in his own. He kissed the very end, pushing his tongue very hard into the piss slit. "Yeah, French it!" commanded Colt.

"Fuck me, Colty," gasped Tristan at long last.

Colton knew his duty. He used the lamp to hunt for the lube in his knapsack (he was well-prepared) and in a trice had two greased fingers up Tristan's bottom.

"Oh Christ!" cried Tristan as Colton slid slowly in. "It fuckin' hurts, but feels so great...at the same time," he huffed.

"Let me in, Tris, and let it out--no one can hear you."

"Oh fuck! Do me like you do those bitches!" Tristan grabbed Colton's meaty buttocks and pulled him in deeper. Colton grunted and talked dirty and employed his muscles with superior stamina to give Tristan a good seeing to.

By the middle of the night they had fallen into an exhausted sleep within the stifling confines of the sleeping bag. Tristan full of Colton's seed and sore but happy; Colton saturated in sweat but satisfied. There was so little room that Tristan lay on top of Colton with his head on his right shoulder and his nose pressed into his ear. Colton's member was still inside Tristan's anus and still surprisingly hard after three orgasms. His left arm clasped him to his breast.

It was a beautiful spring sunrise in this Texas wilderness and the nylon of the small tent did little to shield its probing rays. "Was that good, Roomy?" asked Colton, smirking.

"You know it was. Jesus! Is that what you're like with your dates?"

"Yep. Pretty much."

"I think I'm too sore to hike."

"Nah! You'll be right after a spell. Wanna t'take a load down y'throat? I think I got one for y'all."

"Are you this romantic will all your girlfriends?" asked Tristan sarcastically as he licked Colton's earlobe.

"I'm puttin' it on extra thick 'cuz I know y'all an English lady."

"I'll be a cheerleader from Lubbock if you'll fuck me like that."

Eventually they got the fire going and a breakfast of bacon and fried eggs was created in the blackened skillet.

"I stink," said Tristan smelling his pits.

"Yeah, so do I, but it's an honest man-stink. Too early to wash it off. Maybe when we get back from the hike."

Tristan had to use the hole. He knew this was a test and tried to reason that it was no more intimate than what had transpired in the tent the night before--or in the showers back in Charles C. Selecman for that matter. Colton walked across to the dreaded hole with him, carrying the roll of paper and the shovel. He positioned a sapling branch across the hole as a rudimentary seat. "Come on, drop the shorts."

Eventually Tristan was left in just his boots. He ascended the throne and looked up rather plaintively at Colton. "Tris, don't make a big deal out of it. If we can use the bathroom in front of each other, think how convenient it will be in the new place."

"Yes, I suppose so. But supposing I go to the toilet in some funny way or make toilet faces like people make sex faces?"

"So what? I ain't going to judge y'all, if y'all don't judge me. Let it out, buddy."

Tristan tried but it would not come. Colton kept encouraging him, eventually standing behind him and massaging his tummy.

"That's nice, but you're making me laugh."

"Relax, dude."

Colton took his cock out and caressed the seated Tristan's cheek. Eventually there was a successful outcome and Colton tossed him the paper. "See, that was easy," said Colton as he threw a few shovelfuls of earth into the void. "You can watch me next time."

"But you probably will look hot, even when taking a dump."

"That's true. My jockboy turds are the finest east of the Pecos."

"Arsehole!"

"Yeah, y'can kiss that n'all."

They filled their water bottles from the old tap and set out on their hike. It was, in truth, more like a long walk. The trail was well-formed and metal markers kept them on it. While there were some steep sections, there was no rock climbing involved; Tristan had formed the wrong impression in his mind. The marvellous thing was that they saw not a single soul in the first hour, only the glories of nature and glimpses of silent white tail deer and noisy, cheeky squirrels.

At a level section with a distant view down to the lake, Colton called a halt. They drank from their water bottles and Colton handed Tristan an energy bar from his backpack. "Need a piss," he announced. He moved to the edge of the cliff.

"Can I hold it?" Tristan blurted out.

"Y'all want to hold m'piece while I take a wizz?"

"Yeah, if that's all right. I think it would be hot."

"Well, that's right respectful, Tris, if y'don't think it's...er...too..."

"Weird? Gay? Perverted?"

"Subservient."

"I get off on being dominated."

"Maybe y'get off on my muscles and my piece, but y'sure don't like to loose an argument."

"That's different. Here, let me get it out."

Tristan fumbled with the button fly and hauled Colton's cock through the opening. When the monster was loosed he stood behind Colton and aimed towards the base of a tree using both hands as a fireman might play his hose on a burning building. Colton clasped his hands behind his head and Tristan could smell his sweaty pits. He felt Colton relax and let fly.

It went on for some time. "I can feel it coursing through your tube.'

"The urethra."

"Yeah. You've got a beautiful wide piss slit."

"The urethral meatus. Yeah, it's pretty gorgeous."

Soon matters came to an end. Tristan didn't have to be told to shake well.

"Did you like that, Colt?"

"Yeah, it was hot."

"Was for me too. I want to do that every time you need to piss, when we're alone, that is--I don't mean when we're at Taco Bell."

"If it floats y'boat" said Colton looking down with a slightly puzzled look as Tristan stuffed the python back in and was fiddling with the buttons. "Down the other leg, Tris." Tristan started all over, but did not complain.

They walked on. "That wasn't too weird for you?"

"Nah. I get it. Anyways, not as weird as me dropping three loads up y'butt last night and three more tonight."

"Tonight?"

"Yeah, of course, at least three. It felt too good. You made me feel good, right? You want it, don't you?"

"Yeah, I want it bad," Tristan chuckled. "I just wasn't sure if it was a one time thing or not."

"Look Tris, if you want it and I'm available, my cock is yours. When we get the new place, not only will we be shittin' in front of each other but you'll be in my bed every night and I expect you to be opened up for me, no dancing around."

"Why not you in my bed? And what happens if you have a girlfriend?"

"No, it's got to be you in my bed for it to feel right. And you'll still get plenty even if I have a chick, you know that."

"But she might not want to share you with me and I might..."

Colton cut him of with a stern look. "Tris, don't complicate thangs. Y'all know..."

"Yeah, that I'm not your girlfriend, I know the drum."

They trudged on in silence for a few minutes until Colton broke it.

"Y'all ain't my gal, but I sometime wish y'were, Tris, despite y'being a might argumentative." He looked sternly. "But if y'were I might just have to give you a good slapping to keep y'all in line." He grinned at Tristan.

"You?"

"Nah," admitted Colton with a chuckle. "I ain't never hit a woman, though a few have hit me. Those guys that do stuff like that ain't sure of their masculinity."

"And you are?"

"Yeah, Tris, I reckon I am."

"I think your are too, despite you wishing I was a girl."

There was a pause.

"If only you had breasts, Tris, it would help." Colton made the shapes with his two hands and laughed.

"I could get my nipples pierced and that would give you something to play with."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah, I've always wanted to."

"Little barbells, you know."

"You'd like me to have little barbells through my nipples?"

"Yeah. I could reach around and tweak them."

Tristan thought about this as they hiked on.

Soon they came to the overlook' that marked half way. They were not alone. An older couple that had hiked from the opposite direction were taking in the view. Almost immediately they were joined by two beautiful Swedish girls wearing backpacks and shorts. Tristan did not even have time to be alarmed because the tourists made an immediate connection with the college quarterback and his British companion. Their English was very good--better in fact than Colton's. They were students of physical culture' and had taken a year off from their studies to travel. They stood together by the railing. Colton explained to them about pine trees; they had seen pine trees before. They knew little of American football, but Colton was undaunted and made them laugh by telling silly jokes. He tried to impress them by showing how he could lift the picnic table to move it into the shade. He was about to remove his wifebeater to show them the latest group of muscles he had been working on at the gym when Tristan intervened with a question about their studies. He found that they were interested in gymnastics for primary school-aged children and in the design of play equipment. They were clearly intelligent. They shared some food and talked about their respective countries and their families. Then, quite abruptly they got up and left, walking in the opposite direction and calling a cheery goodbye. Both boys let out a little gasp, for Ebba had slipped her hand into that of Tuva as they turned for a final salutation.

There was a pause until Tristan broke it. "No wonder you had to work on it, Colt."

"I reckon I shoulda tried harder. The both of them and Colty it mighta been a real hot scene, y'know." Tristan snorted. "So that's what real lesbians is like; you told me a whole lotta crap about bull dykes with tatts and stogies."

"I never said any such thing. It's just your lesbian porn on your phone is so fake."

"It's m'JO fantasy and it's allowed to be fake. Anyway, what about y'all and those bullshit stories -- Superbowl Cum Dump and Jacksonville Jockstraps, or whatever?

"That's completely different; they're more true to life--anyway, you just made up those titles."

"So you sayin' that y'wouldn't find me doin' Ebba and Tuva hot? With them tonguing their clits in a lezzo frenzy and then tonguing Colty."

"No."

"Not with them fightin' to stick their skilful Swedish tongues right up Colty's pucker when they'd had enough of each other?"

"Oh, all right! That would be hot, I admit it, but they were lesbians and they might not be attracted to you at all." Colton gave a snort of disbelief.

They continued on with their journey, still returning to the topic.

"The thought got you real hot, Colt?" said Tristan, eying Colton's shorts which were visibly distended. Colton also looked down with an expression that suggested that the contents did not quite belong to him at all. They had paused on the deserted track by now. Tristan gently rolled up the hem of Colton's khaki shorts until the head of the miniature horse appendage was revealed. "Shit, Colt, you're leaking a lot of Stone slime."

"You mean Colty cordial?"

A long, thin stream was descending towards the ground, having already made a wet patch on the shorts.

"The perils of going commando," observed Tristan who set to work on an emergency head job. Colton came quickly, and just as well, for it was a public path and only fifteen minutes later they passed a group of `senior citizens' going the other way and cheery greetings were required.

"I'm sorry I'm not a lesbian for you, Colt, and I can't think of any way of becoming one."

"That's right consid'rate of y'all, Roomy, but they have to come in pairs to be part of m'fantasy."

"Oh yes, of course. With me I only need one--guy, I mean."

"And you got him, Tris. I'm the gay boy's we dream."

"I never said it was you! Why, I might fantasize about Hollis, or Parker. De is as hung as you and he's gorgeous."

"Nearly as hung."

"Well, Charles C. Selecman is full of hot guys. You've got tickets on yourself, Colton Stone."

"What in the hell does that mean?"

"That you're conceited --you have a ticket of admission to see yourself or a betting slip for a horse race, perhaps."

"That's a good one. And you're not a very good liar, Tris. 'specially when y'got some of my spooge on y'chin."

"Shit!' cried Tristan and he tried to wipe it off with the hem of his tee-shirt.

"I need t'piss, Roomy."

They reached their camping site and all was undisturbed. "I want to go down to the creek to wash. Want to come?" asked Tristan. Colton put down his backpack and dug out the bar of soap. They made their way through the pines down to the creek that ran over rocks in shallow rapids. It was a simple matter to strip off their clothes, but the water itself was icy cold until they got used to it.

"Let me wash you," said Tristan who held the bar of hard yellow soap. "When we get the new place, it will be my job to wash you." He started on Colton's shoulders and lathered his way south.

"Do you think m'cock and balls need that much cleaning?" asked Colton.

"Yeah, they're filthy," said Tristan who was working assiduously.

Finally Colton dipped himself into the stream to rinse off. "My turn."

He washed Tristan roughly, but still Tristan enjoyed the attention.

"Colt," he said, "I want you to hose me down."

Colton paused with the bar of soap in his hand. "You mean you want me to piss on you?"

"Yeah, that's what I want, right at this moment. You too hung up to do it?"

"No, if'n that's what y'all want. You want my piss in y'mouth?"

"No, just over my body while we're in this stream. Hose me down, jock boy!"

Colton did as he was asked. Tristan knelt down in the stream and accepted the stream on his chest and groin. When Colton was finished he took the soap and washed himself and then moved into a deeper part and submerged himself to rinse off.

"That's another thing we can do when we get the new place, just you, I mean. Although it would be hot for Hollis, Colt and Deshawn to all stand around and do it to me. Maybe in the locker room after a win."

"Y'all one sick fuck."

"And you're another."

After a meal of curry from a tin they sat around the fire as they had done on the previous night, exchanging exclamations about how beautiful it all was. Tristan ventured that it was only seven months since they had met and that it already seemed a lifetime.

"Yeah, for me too," said Colton.

"Won't the new place be good, with all the guys there?" It was unspoken, but this included the girls too. "I hope it's finished by September."

"Yeah. We're so lucky to have found y'all, Tris. That's a big thang y'doin'. I hope we deserve it."

"Never thought of it like that; it's me who feels lucky. You know, I never thought life would ever be this good again, you know, last year and all. It was a piece of luck that you were my roomy."

"Nah, not luck. It sure happened right 'nough."

The fire was dying and the tent awaited. Colton lived up to his promise and performed like a machine, although a machine displaying affection that was possibly more than usual from starting college quarterbacks in similar situations. Tristan was, once again, amazed that Colton could cum more than once without a pause. He was awoken roughly in he night and fucked again and in the morning...and, well, the tent almost collapsed and Tristan wondered if the sleeping bag could ever be cleaned. Still, it was a great weekend, Tristan said to himself as they broke camp and he knew that his balls were achingly empty and his butt hole sore and inflamed, but happiness seemed to blot out a little pain. He had also got to see the quarterback take a shit squatting over a hole and, predictably, Colton still looked hot even thus and Tristan came to muse on the unequalness of the distribution of hottness across the human population and in Texas in particular.

Please look for the next chapter. Henry would love to receive feedback and will endeavour to reply. Please email h.h.hilliard@hotmail.com and put Tristan in the subject line.