Country Boys, page 4
“I think Kenny’s asleep,” Alan whispered.
“Sounds like,” was Ross’s ritual response.
Alan quietly repositioned himself so that he lay along Ross’s side, his head at Ross’s feet. He reached out and brushed his fingers lightly up and down Ross’s leg; up and down, dancing delicately.
Each time Alan’s fingers went up, they went further and further until they reached the bottom of Ross’s shorts. Alan slipped his hand up underneath the shorts. He lightly fingered Ross’s balls through his soft cotton Y-front briefs. Ross remained silent but his stiff dick strained against his underwear.
Alan pulled his hand out of Ross’s shorts. He reached with both hands to the waistband and tugged. Ross lifted his hips so that Alan could pull the shorts and underwear down just enough to release Ross’s dick. Ross then did the same to get at Alan’s boner.
Jerking each other off was fun to do—and it was fun to have done, too—but there were shortcomings. Ross preferred that Alan use a firmer, rougher grip and pump more vigorously. Alan preferred a gentler, less frantic pace. Nevertheless, having someone else’s hand around his hard-on, jerking off with unfamiliar and unpredictable sensations, brought each to climax quickly.
Alan held Ross’s dick for a bit while his own erection subsided. Some of Ross’s cum had pooled in the web of skin by the thumb of Alan’s hand. He lifted it to his mouth and licked off the cum, tasting it for the first time. He was surprised by its saltiness. He was also surprised that it tasted good.
Ross seemed in a hurry to pull up his shorts; Alan liked leaving his down while his dick softened against his thigh, a small drop of cum stretching down his leg. Ross was often talkative after he and Alan jerked off, but tonight he seemed more thoughtful.
“We’re going to have to stop doing this,” he said at last.
After a pause Alan asked, “Why?”
“It’s not right. My dad is already talking about sending me to law school so I can follow him in public service, and Mom is already talking about the type of woman I should marry for my career.”
“That doesn’t mean we have to stop fooling around.”
“Yes it does. I can’t be gay.”
“Sure you can. Don’t you like beating off together?”
“I mean I can’t turn gay. I mustn’t. I have to stop before it goes too far.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? It’s not like it’s cooties or something that can rub off.”
“I know I can stop,” Ross insisted, “before it’s too late. It’s a lifestyle and I can’t do it if I’m going to go into politics. My dad talks about it all the time, how sick it is.”
“Well, I think it’s too late for me,” Alan said.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’ve already gone too far, beat off too much, or whatever turns a person gay. It’s not sick. I like doing it and I don’t see a problem. I like going to the pool locker room and watching the naked men. I like to imagine what it would be like to hold a big, stiff dick in my hand, or maybe put one in my mouth. I imagine kissing a man some day, with tongue and everything, and I expect it will taste good. Gosh, I’ve probably turned gay already.”
Ross was exasperated by Alan’s sarcasm and this turn in the conversation. “Fine,” he said, “whatever. Just don’t try to kiss me.”
“Fine. Whatever. Like I’d even want to.”
Neither one said another word that night, but they listened for quite some time to each other’s heavy, angered and hurt breathing before falling asleep.
“That summer after tenth grade was okay,” Alan told Donny. “We spent a lot of time at the pool as we always had, and we beat off a lot as we always had, but things started to feel different between us. Maybe we were just growing up.”
Donny looked around for their waitress and indicated that he wanted more coffee when he caught her eye.
“Eleventh grade was definitely a bit of a strain,” Alan continued.
“Because of the gay thing, you mean?”
“No. Not directly at least. It was more like we started noticing other things in the world around us. News, world events, other people—like you, for instance.”
“Me!” Donny couldn’t imagine. “Why me?”
“You were a senior and too busy to notice a mere junior, but when you first came to school with that rainbow flag on your backpack…”
“Oh yes! That would have been October. I did that for National Coming Out Day. I hoped someone would see it and feel less alone.”
“I did! Up until then I’d thought I was the only homo in Goodland, maybe even in all of Kansas.”
“I suspect I was also hoping that I’d meet at least one other gay person, too.”
“Well, I was way too shy for that, but I thought you were the hottest looking guy in the whole school. I, um, thought a lot about kissing you.”
“Mercy! You bring color to my cheeks, but I am honored. If only I’d known…”
“…What would you have done? You were a senior, I was an invisible junior and we were worlds apart then. Anyway, I think Ross was a bit freaked out by the whole thing.”
“By me? How? Why?”
“Apparently I mentioned your name more than just occasionally. One day toward spring we were having lunch and I was going on about something when Ross slammed his sandwich down on the table and shouted ‘Donny this, Donny that—I am so sick of Donny! If Donny is so fucking perfect why don’t you marry him!’ ”
“I was speechless, really, because I hadn’t realized at all that I was doing it. Kenny said something like ‘Jeez, Ross, lighten up.’ Ross grabbed his stuff and stormed off. We never mentioned it again.”
“Sounds like a little jealousy to me.”
“Could be, but he wasn’t the only one, let me tell you. I think Ross had a big crush on the basketball coach that fall.”
“No kidding!”
“At least a serious case of hero worship. He was always going on about ‘Coach this’ and ‘Coach that’—it was really kind of nauseating. Anyway, there was this time when I was meeting Ross after his practice, so I went to the school locker room looking for him. Most everyone had left and it was really quiet, although someone was still in the showers. I heard Ross’s voice saying something and I was about to call out to him when I heard another voice talking to him.”
“Ah. So he wasn’t alone.”
“The other voice was Coach’s. He said something that made Ross laugh, but it made me feel a little dizzy. I don’t even remember leaving the locker room, but I did somehow without being noticed.”
“Wow. Do you think he and the coach…?”
“Oh no, I never saw any sign of that. I don’t know how innocent it was for Coach, but I’m pretty sure it was just a naive infatuation for Ross. Still…”
“It must have felt awful.”
“It did. I don’t think I ever trusted Ross again after that. But the one I really felt sorry for was Kenny.”
“Really! Kenny? Why?”
“Kenny is such a sweet guy, never devious or manipulating or secretive. I think it confused him to be caught in the middle of all the drama between Ross and me. I suspect we hurt his feelings a lot, which we never intended to do.”
“Did you get past those things with Ross?”
“Not really. I stopped talking about you as much—probably thought about you more, though. Ross seemed to get over his Coach crush after basketball season and then in the spring he started dating Melissa, which was a pretty obvious tactic.”
“She was there today. I couldn’t tell whether she looked more sad or relieved.”
“Then, that summer before our senior year was the big blowup.”
Ross and Alan and Kenny hadn’t really spent much time together since the beginning of eleventh grade. At least not good, old-friends kind of time together. There’d been no treats for Ross’s “little friends” for over a year, no non-sleepovers, no sperm long-jump events, no ritual lighting of the Sacred Flame. Their secret clubhouse by the grain elevators was overgrown and collapsing. Their lives were starting to head in different directions, but they hadn’t yet noticed.
Some old habits persist until something happens to break them. As they had for more summers than they could remember, Alan and Kenny spent most of their time at the municipal pool. If you’d asked, they would have claimed there was nothing else to do for summers in the toe-jam of the universe.
It was the end of summer, the last week before the Labor Day Weekend, the last full week before the pool closed. So many people were away, visiting or vacationing before school started, that they very nearly had the pool to themselves. Alan and Kenny were there until closing and managed to exchange not a single word with Ross.
Alan and Kenny were the last ones to head into the locker room, and the last ones remaining while Ross was closing down the pool for the night. Neither seemed in a particular hurry—they weren’t really on speaking terms with Ross, but they waited to leave when he did.
Both had stripped off their suits and were drying themselves in desultory fashion. Kenny’s offhand manner caught Alan off guard when he asked, “Have you ever kissed a man before? I mean a real, romantic kiss?”
Alan hesitated, because he wanted to say yes. “Not yet, but I’ve thought about it a lot. I’d kiss Donny Doyle on the spot if he asked me, that’s for sure.”
“Don’t you wonder what it’s like? I mean open mouthed and with tongue and all?”
“Sure. You can practice kissing your pillow or your arm, but they sure don’t have tongues.”
Kenny giggled. “Do you want to try? You know, strictly for informational purposes.”
“Sure, if you really want to.”
Kenny took two steps to face Alan, and stood looking into Alan’s eyes for a moment. They were standing close enough that their dicks, already hard, were touching.
They touched lips tentatively at first, then with more resolve. After settling the question of whose nose would go in which direction, they opened their mouths and their tongues touched at the tips. Alan had closed his eyes, but Kenny kept his eyes wide open.
After some seconds spent with Kenny’s tongue exploring Alan’s teeth, they pulled their mouths apart and stood in silent assessment.
Kenny asked first: “Did it work for you?”
“I think so. Some, at least. I’m sure I’d try it again.”
Kenny nodded as though absorbing this datum. “What about that other thing? You know, having a guy’s boner in your mouth. Is it good? Have you done that yet?”
“Not yet.”
With no more warning than that, Kenny squatted in front of Alan and took Alan’s erection fully into his mouth. Kenny rolled his tongue around Alan’s dick and slid his lips along its length a time or two, but otherwise he wasn’t really sure what to do.
They were so lost in the novelty of the sensations they were experiencing that neither heard Ross come into the locker room until he started shouting.
“Goddamn cocksucking homos!”
Frozen in place, they looked over at Ross, who stood in the doorway, his face red with rage.
“What the fuck are you doing now, you pervert! Trying to recruit Kenny? Get out! Get out! Both of you get out!”
Ross turned and left. Alan and Kenny snatched up their clothes, covered themselves enough to go outside, and left as quickly as they could without running. As they hurried away from the pool they could hear Ross slamming metal trash cans around and howling in rage, or pain, or both.
“Wow.” Donny sipped from his mug of coffee—his third. “You know, I did hear something about something happening back then, but since I’d graduated already I didn’t pay much attention. I didn’t realize… That was pretty intense.”
“At the time I was surprised by the vehemence of Ross’s reaction.”
Donny didn’t really sound serious when he asked, “So, do you think the experience turned Kenny gay?”
“Nope. I think he just had a healthy curiosity. He’s always been as straight as Ross wanted to be. I’m sure that Kenny is marrying Linda later this month because he’s entirely content with his heterosexual lifestyle.”
“You don’t think Ross was actually straight, do you?”
“Probably not. Maybe. I don’t know. He certainly wanted to be straight. At least when he was around me he did.”
“But not when he was around me,” Donny said, avoiding Alan’s eyes when he said it.
“Oh?” Alan asked. “Is there something you know that I don’t?”
“Well,” Donny began, “you know that spot behind the junkyard—out by the grain elevators, on the other side of the tracks—where men go to cruise for sex?”
Alan affected an innocent air. “Do they?”
“As I’m sure you know, at least by hearsay. Anyway—and this all happened after you’d graduated and gone away to Emporia State—I went out there a few times, not like it was a frequent occurrence or anything…”
“Oh, of course not!”
“…And who should I run into but Ross O’Brien, who pretended not to recognize me. Now, I wouldn’t want to speculate on his proclivities, but he seemed awfully intent on giving as many blow jobs to as many men as he could, and he desperately wanted me to fuck him, without a condom I might add. I refused.”
“So,” Alan said, “you have no doubt that Ross was gay.”
“I have no doubt that Ross was one seriously conflicted dude, that’s for sure.”
Alan shook his head slowly. “Poor Ross. He got a lot of pressure at home to conform. His dad, the Big Sheriff, wanted him to grow up and be the important politician and live the straight lifestyle fantasy. I think he was always looking for his father’s approval and never got it. His dad didn’t even make it to our graduation.”
Donny let a few moments of silence pass. “So, do you think Ross’s death was an accident?”
Alan tried to look shocked but he wasn’t really. “Are you suggesting that he drove his car into that tree on purpose?”
“You have to wonder. Full moonlit night, no ice on the road, no curve, no mechanical failures, no alcohol, no other cars, no obvious cause.”
“I’ve wondered, I guess. Sometimes I feel guilty, like I could have been better to him that last year or two, or tried harder. We’d been such good friends. I don’t know why it had to end the way it did. Could I have made some difference? Does it make any difference whether he died accidentally or not, now that he’s gone? I don’t know. I only know that it’s all such a waste and so unnecessary.”
Donny nodded. Again the silence stretched, but this time it was a shared, companionable silence. Donny reached his arm across the table and put his hand over Alan’s.
“I’m sorry that I made you think about all this all over again,” Donny said.
“Don’t worry about it. It was good to remember. I need to remember.”
“If you’ll have coffee with me again, I promise to talk about happier, gayer subjects.”
“I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t you come with me to Kenny and Linda’s wedding? I need a date.”
“Really? You don’t think they’d mind?”
“Kenny? No way. He’s my best friend, after all. He’d be happy to see that I’ve finally met someone. I think he worries about me. So, what do you say? Is it a date?”
Donny didn’t even have to think about it. “You bet it’s a date.”
THREE WEEKS TILL BEAR SEASON
C. B. Potts
Sometimes the absence of sound tells you more than its presence. Kenny frowned and stepped up onto a small rock outcropping alongside the trail, listening for the birds. He could hear none.
Contrary to popular rumor, an Adirondack morning is hardly quiet. That goes double in the fall, when chattering flocks of songbirds gorge on summer’s last spoils, fattening themselves for the long flight south. Every last berry was worth fighting over, every captured gnat accompanied by a triumphant fanfare.
And yet now they were quiet. Only two things shut birds up: dark and danger. Dawn had just shed her gray silken shroud, revealing the first cerulean streaks of autumn brilliance wrapped across the sky, so it had to be the latter.
Kenny shifted his weight, listening.
There was a slight rustle in the grass. Not much, but in this silence, momentous. He’d passed by a big ol’ mama bear and cub on his way out early this morning, rooting through a downed stump. Common sense dictated that he give the pair plenty of room—brown bears aren’t at their best when they’ve got hibernation hanging heavy on their minds—but maybe he’d not gone far enough.
He gripped his deer rifle, grateful for the weight of it in his hand. It wouldn’t do much against a riled-up brown bear, but it might buy him enough time to hightail his bony ass to safety.
Another rustle, closer. He scanned the woods, looking for blocky shadows. The birds that were about kept to their branches, which meant it was either too soon to fly or far, far too late.
Fuck. The trail ahead forked two ways. One would bring him out the back of Pytlak’s orchard, where, more likely than not, he’d find whitetail grazing the apple trees. That’d been his original destination, and maybe he should stick to the plan. Widow Pytlak wouldn’t be none too happy to see him—she preferred deer on the hoof to on the plate—but she’d let him in long enough to escape an angry bear.
The other way was way shorter, brought him flat down to one of the million nameless creeks that fed into Lake Champlain.
Snapping branches now, as whatever-it-was pushed through the nearby underbrush.
Kenny took to his heels. He couldn’t outrun a brown bear, he figured, but he could sure the hell outswim one.
He launched himself, a startled pheasant in deep woods camo, and pushed down the narrow trail.
The crashing behind him grew louder. Closer. Nearing with every step, as he scrambled over snarled roots and awkward jutting slabs of skittering, splintering shale.
