Date: Tue, 23 May 2006 15:09:04 +0000
From: bengal1963@comcast.net
Subject: City Mouse, Country Mouse

This is my first submission.  I do not want my name or email address from
the header to appear.  It will be the first of several.  Probably
Gay/Male, Beginnings.

The Point Reyes peninsula is reportedly the second foggiest place in the
United States.  I don't know where the winner is but Point Reyes can't
be far behind.  I had driven up from San Francisco with a couple of days
free and wanted to hike some of the PR peninsula.  As I crossed the
bridge and headed up past Sausalito the day was clear and warm but almost
immediately as I turned up the road from Olema the mist set in.  Oh,
well.  I had expected it and wasn't concerned.  I parked the car in a
pull off area by a trail head, grabbed my sweater and jacket and began
hiking.

As I started the sun was shining through the fog and I tied the sweater
and jacket around my waist to but as I continued the mist got deeper and
the sun clouded over.  I began to layer up against the damp.

I was already about a mile from the car when it started getting really
think but being careful was second nature to me and I kept my bearings
with my compass.  There's actually something cool about being surrounded
by this white mist, something liberating.  Fog on Point Reyes is not a
wimpy thing.  It curls in and wraps you like a wet blanket, creating a
disoriented world, not Stephen King but still sort of "off".  I like
it.

Or so I thought.  About half an hour along, I was coming down a steep
slope, the grass was slick and suddenly I was sliding.  My jacket and
sweater hitched up on my shoulders as I lid down the slope on my back,
tumbled once, banging my shin hard on some rocks and landing finally when
my feet jammed into a stream at the bottom of the hill.  I felt pretty
stupid but no serious harm had happened.  I was muddy all over from the
slide, my shoes and pants were soaked up to my butt, and my shin was
really scraped but the big thing as it turned out was my compass.
Shattered.

So, up the slope I scrambled, back onto the path and head back toward the
car.  Or so I thought (again).  The fall had probably confused me a
little and I must have turned the wrong way or angled off somehow but
after another half an hour it was clear that I was on the wrong track.  I
hadn't a clue which direction I was heading but I figured continued
motion was the answer.  And I kept walking.

Actually, I was beginning to be concerned.  Number one, I was clearly
lost, and number two, I was getting really chilled.  Under those
circumstances one begins to think about finding some shelter and waiting
it out.  The only problem was, where?  As I stumbled along, I suddenly
heard what sounded like a snort.  Bear?  No, in another second I
realized.  A cow!  I bumped up against some fencing and on the other side
I could see cattle under some shedding.  At least THEY were comfortable.
But if they were under cover and taken care of, that had to mean that I
would find something.  Sure enough, as I moved around the fencing, I
caught the outlines of a building and a glow of light through a window.
Cool!  I stumbled over and just as I was about to knock the door opened.

"Thought I heard something out here.  We've got puma and dogs.  But I
wasn't expecting a guy."  The speaker was about 6 feet, rangy, dark
hair, dressed in jeans and boots, no shirt.

"Yeah, I'm afraid I was hiking and got caught in the fog.  Haven't a
clue where I am."

"Well, come on in.  You look cold."

It was a one room cabin, shed porch on the front with what was probably a
latrine enclosure at the end of the porch.  The room held a wood burning
stove, an old electric stove, sink, small fridge.  Otherwise, a table,
couple of chairs, a bench, and a bed.  Basic, but adequate for a
herder's needs.

"Thanks.  Sorry to intrude like this."  I stood, a little unsure what
to do.

"Look.  First thing I would do is get warm.  You're shivering.  Get
over here by the stove.  I stoked it when I came in from the cattle and
it'll help.  But I'd get those shoes off first.  Looks like you really
took a tumble."

Sitting on the bench I began unlacing my hiking boots.  "Yeah, I landed
in a stream.  By the way, my name's Jeff Brooks."

"Travis Reilly here.  Tell you what.  Get that jacket and stuff off.  I
can hang it on the line here over the stove."

"Thanks, Travis."  My teeth were chattering now.  I peeled that wind
breaker and the sweater off, pulled off my sodden sox.

"Jeff, you better get the rest of that off too and get dry.  Here's a
towel.  Give yourself a rub and then wrap yourself in the blanket."
Travis handed me a towel.  I was a little unsure but figured he was right
and took off my shirt and jeans and started rubbing down, trying to build
a little heat.  Realizing my shorts were soaked also, I shrugged them off
also and wrapped myself up in the blanket.  Weird sitting buff naked in a
stranger's cabin, but Travis was right.  I was feeling better.

"Looks like you banged that leg pretty well.  We should clean that
up."  I looked down and he was right.  I'd really scraped my right leg
in the fall.  And it was beginning to feel stiff.  Travis went over to
the sink, got a dish towel, poured some hot water from the kettle on the
stove and sat down on the chair in front of me.  "Let me see."

I stretched the leg out and watched as Travis carefully wiped away the
blood and dirt.  It stung a little when he grabbed a bottle of dish soap
and used it to wash the area, but nothing like the iodine or whatever he
used next.  "Yow!"

"Sorry, Jeff.  But better that than letting it get ugly.  There.  Now,
just sit here and get warm.  I'll make some coffee."

I watched as he set the coffee pot on the stove.  Travis's build was
clearly that of a guy who worked hard.  Hands and face deeply tanned,
hair looked to be self-cut.  Smooth shaven.  Muscular.  Hard.  I admired
his back and shoulders as he turned to the sink.

"Glad I was here when you showed up.  But the door's always unlocked so
you could have come in anyway.  I usually stoke the stove first when I
come in, especially on a day like this."  Travis chuckled.  "As if most
days aren't like this out here.  I usually get warm and change my
clothes first.  You caught me in the middle."  Travis had his shirt off
already and now went over to a shelf by the bed, dropped his jeans and
pulled on a pair of cut-off sweats.  He kept his wool sox on.  I noticed
he dressed commando.&nbs p; Travis picked up a tee shirt and pulled it on
before turning back to the stove.  I hunched close to the wood burner and
opened my blanket to get the direct warmth.  Travis glanced over.  "You
feeling better?"

"Yeah, I really am.  I just feel a little stupid."

"Jeff, anyone can get lost out here.  It's a strange place, but I love
it.  I been working this spread for ten years now."

"You ever get away?'  "Sure.  Every couple of week's I get a hand to
take over and head down to the city for a few days.  It works for me."

"That's sort of me in reverse.  Live in the city and get away by coming
out here.  "Works for me.  City mouse, country mouse."

Travis looked over and grinned.  "Here you go, city mouse," as he
handed me the coffee.  I took it cupped in both hands, the blanket
hanging over my shoulders.  It tasted good.  Hot.  Life was beginning to
look better.  Travis glanced at my filthy soaked clothes and said, "You
know, that stuff is so muddy and wet.  Why don't I rinse the mud off.
It won't be dry tonight anyway."  Without waiting for my response, he
grabbed the stuff off the bench and started running water over it in the
big sink, wringing each item and hanging them up on a line ov er the
stove.  I was a little embarrassed, having another guy doing my laundry.
I mean, even my shorts.  But all I could do was say thank you.

"Jeff, over on the shelf there, you can find something to wear now that
you're dry.  It may be a bit big for you but better than sitting butt
naked all evening."  Travis laughed.  I got up folded the blanket and
went over to find a pair of shorts like what he was wearing and a tee.
"Grab some sox too.  This floor can be cold."

So there we were, twinsies, in a snug cabin with the wood stove perking,
in the fog.  Seemed like old friends for some reason.  Travis pulled a
couple of steaks out of the fridge and tossed a salad.  I found knives
and forks and plates and set the table.  When he pulled a bottle of
Merlot out of a corner, I knew we were in business.  I was surprised to
see that he had a couple of really nice wine glasses.  Travis was not
leading an unnecessarily rough life.

Dinner was great.  We did a little probing about each other.  I asked
what Travis did when he came down to San Francisco and got the surprise
answer that he was a ballet buff.  The guy was a complete nut for the
dance.  That was pretty amazing because so am I.  So we had a long talk
about productions from the past season.  I said, "OH, hell, Travis.
We've probably stood next to each other at the urinals in the Opera
House."

Travis laughed.  "Oh, I doubt it.  I think I'd remember."  I looked up
startled and saw he was studying my reaction.  I smiled.  "Well, I
suppose I should take that as a compliment."  We both took a sip of
wine.

Up until now, this has been a straight story.  But with that interchange
things shifted.  We got a little quieter.  Dinner over, I said, "Let me
clean up, Travis.  A good guest always volunteers."  Travis didn't
argue the point but pushed  back in his armchair at the table and watched
as I washed everything, scoured the frying pan even, dried it and put it
all back where it had come from.  When I turned back, I noticed that he
was stretched out in his chair, his wine glass in his hand, and from the
cut-off bottom of his left sweats leg I could see a little of the head of
his penis hanging down.  Not much, not hard, just a casual sighting.

"I don't know, Jeff.  Maybe I should call you the little dogie.
Straying out there in the big bad world."

"Yeah, me the dogie, you the cowboy."  I laughed.  The wine was
affecting me.  "I assume that was the latrine outside."  "Yeah, go
ahead."  I went out, took a leak, admired the self-composting toilet,
and came back in.  Travis had gotten up, tossed another chunk of wood in
the stove.  More to the point, he had taken off his shirt and shorts now.

"Cowboys hit the rack early.  As for you, little dogie, it's either
share the bed or sleep on the floor.  My hospitality doesn't extend to
putting the host of the floor."

"Hey, what the heck.  I'll share if you're offering.  You've been
great to take me in like this."

Thanks, Jeff, but I'm figuring you'll be taking ME in next."  Travis
stepped over to me and stroked my cheek.  Before I could react he was
past me and out the door.

I sat down and the bed and pulled Travis' shirt over my head, shucked
his shorts and then went over where I saw he had hung his shorts on a
hook and put my nose to them.  I could smell the scent of man.  I heard
the door open and close behind me.  Travis was close behind me and I felt
his hand trace down my spine almost to my crotch.  Then both hands were
stroking my hips and I felt him press his body against me.  His penis was
rock hard against my butt.  I felt like the fog was closing again.

Travis stepped back and switched off the light over the table, leaving us
with just the glow through the wood stove door.  Travis was a white form
in the darkness.  He moved me down onto the bed on my back and hovered
over me, soft whiteness hiding strength.  I moved over so he could sit
and he bent down, putting his lips of my left nipple.  I gasped and
arched.  My nipples are incredibly sensitive.  Travis murmured, "Nice
response, dogie."  "You can't imagine." I gasped again as he licked
around the nipple and then bit it lightly.  I felt his hand go to my
right nipple and begin kneading i t.  I reached up and covered his hand
with mine, my other hand on his head.  He tested worked them harder.  My
groaning made my response clear.  A pause and his lips were on mine.  I
kept mine closed at first but Travis took care of that by pinching my
right nipple hard again.  As I gasped his tongue entered. Rough,
darting.  My lips closed on his tongue, sucking as his tongue circled
around mine, probing, tongue fucking my mouth.  My lips opened wide now
so I could do him, our saliva mixing as we played the opening dance.
Because this WAS a dance.

A change.  The Cowboy pulled back and stood in the darkness.  He looked
bigger than life over me.  My eyes had adjusted to the dim glow of light
and I caught a rugged, almost grim look in his face.  Below his sculpted
white chest with its dark round nipples, this body was smooth to the
molding of his pelvis and there below the navel the dark bush of pubic
hair with his penis stiff out.  He lowered himself again but this time
covering me with his legs straddled above my head and his face over my
penis.  Yes.  Without touching it he lowered his mouth over the glans and
breathed heat.  I could smell the sweat of his furred testicles over my
nose and then his lips closed slowly on my penis.  I heaved involuntarily
and my penis slid into his mouth.  At the same time I licked the shaft of
his penis and traced the roundness of a testicle.  One, then the other.
Now he shifted and his penis was at my lips.  I took it, and so we
danced.  In unison, each consuming the other's hardened penis, exploring
with our tongues, tracking the veins and the filled duct, following the
line of the glans ridge, and taking penis deep in our mouths, a unity and
concentration.

With my hands I gripped Travis' hips, cupped his butt, frantic to know
his body.  As Travis took my penis deep in his throat his hand moved down
past my testicles, past my scrotum to that lowest spot where everything
converges and he found my sphincter with his finger. My legs spread.

Again it changes.  He is turning now, still sucking on my shaft but his
finger is repeating what the tongue taught it, entering past my sphincter
into my rectum, in and out again.  I moan.  "Go, Cowboy."

I am rolled on my left side.  My right leg forward and bent slightly.
Travis is behind me.  Two fingers now probing, relaxing my sphincter,
searching me.  I feel him lower himself behind me, his left leg outside
mine, his right leg between mine, pushing my right leg higher.  His left
arm comes under my rib cage as his right hand guides his penis into my
crotch, to my ready sphincter.  And then, wet with my spit, Travis' cock
slides smoothly into me, his head popping past the sphincter and slipping
in one long motion deeper, deeper, until I can feel the his pelvis firmly
pressed against my ass, his cock totally buried in my ass.  Ton gue,
finger, penis.

There is no pain.  It begins gently.  His right hand takes my right
nipple and works it slowly as he slides back and forth in me, almost out,
then going deeply again.  I groan with the pleasure, pushing back on him
as he presses in, wanting this man's cock to make me whole.  "Yeah,
Travis, make me real.  Fill me up."  Travis growled, "Dogie, you are so
fucked."

And it changes.  A growl and he begins plunging faster.  The right hand
goes down and grips my cock roughly beginning to jack me.  "I can take
it.  Do it rough."  The hand grips my cock brutally.  I gasp and the
Cowboy jams deep into me, hitting the sweet spot but slamming now.  I
buck under the weight, my hands gripping the bed, we are in an empty
world, in a fog and we roar at each other.  Yes, fucker, hurt me deep.
Breed this calf.  Butt fuck your ass, dogie.  Fill your body with my
juice.  Twisting, pounding.  Screaming.  YESSSSSSSSSS.

I feel Travis give a great heave, another and another.  His grunting roar
in my ear.  His hands at the moment gripping my shoulders hard, fingers
pressing and as he ejaculates into my body, his teeth on my shoulder
bite, and I shoot onto the sheet, weeping and shooting.

It's quiet now.  Travis has pulled out, gone to the sink and washed
off.  He's back in bed.  I haven't moved.  He slides beside me,
spoonways, curving against my body, pulling the blanket over us, and we
sleep.

It's morning.  The bed is empty beside me.  Travis is not there.  I sit
up.  I have been truly fucked and the warmth is in me.  For a minute.
It's cold.  I get up, check my clothes and find they are dry.  After
dressing, I go out to the latrine, come back in and make some coffee.  In
the fridge I find some bacon and eggs.  Some sourdough bread.  As I'm
pulling things together, Travis walks through the door.

"Hey, Dogie."  "Hey, Travis.  You in there?"  "You bet, never felt
better in my life.  Sorry I didn't wake you up.  I get up early to take
care of the cattle."

I pour two mugs of coffee.  "Now problem.  Now let me say something.
Travis, you are one awesome fucker.  And on top of that, you're a hell
of a nice guy.  Have some coffee."

We grin at each other and get on with breakfast.  After breakfast, Travis
says, "I've got to head down to the village and I think we should find
your car.  But before we do, let me check something.  Take your shirt
off."  Turning me around, he says, "Yeah, thought I remembered that.  I
seem to have branded you, Dogie."  I glance over my back in a mirror.
There it is.  An enormous hickey.  And on either shoulder five bruises.
"Shit, Travis, now I can't go to the gym until that's gone.  How do
you explain the positioning of those marks to a straight guy in the
showers?"

Travis laughed, "Sorry about that but I've never gotten off like that
in my life.  That was another world last night.  Maybe you can find a gay
gym in Frisco?"  I burst out laughing.  "Now THAT is no problem."

We go out and hop in his jeep, following the rutted road for a couple of
miles to the main road.  We find my car about a mile further down.  We
sit in the jeep for a few minutes.

"So, you expecting to get down the San Francisco soon?"

"I was thinking the end of the month.  I've got tickets for Coppelia.
Wanta join me?"

"Sure.  And plan to bunk in with ME this time, Cowboy.  And you can take
ME in."

Travis laughed, "You're on, Jeff."  We kiss and I wave as Travis
drives off.  The sun is shining and the fog has lifted.