Date: Fri, 7 Dec 2012 08:47:01 -0500
From: Jake Preston <jemtling@gmail.com>
Subject: Wayward Island 4

Wayward Island (Part 4)
How Randy and Jake Went to Church
By Jake Preston


Reader restrictions: no minors, no readers who are offended by explicit
descriptions of gay sexuality. The story as a whole is a psychological
study of gay athletic hunks who love nerds, and the nerds who love them in
return. The story also deals with the problems faced by gay guys who live
in rural areas. If these themes don't interest you, there are many other
great "nifty" stories to choose from. All characters are fictional and are
not based on real persons. Most place-names are fictional, too. Send
comments and suggestions to jemtling@gmail.com. Jake will respond to all
sincere correspondents. Please consider supporting "Nifty Stories" with a
donation! To learn how, click "Donate" in the index heading.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *

Sunday morning. Randy and I were on the road to Crane Lake by nine-thirty.
I wasn't sure how long it would take in winter, so we got an early start.
"Besides," I told Randy, "there's a restaurant in town where we can hang
out if we're too early." The church service starts at eleven. We had no
plans to attend Sunday School.

The church was really a log cabin, maybe twenty by forty feet, with a loft
that served as Billy White Cloud's study. It was heated by a Franklin stove
in the center. Instead of pews where were folding chairs. Instead of
plumbing, there was an outhouse in back of the building. The old fashioned
stand-up piano was slightly out of tune, but the pianist, a Chippewa boy of
eighteen or nineteen, was a good player, good looking, and probably gay. I
thought the place was charming. I was surprised that Randy thought it
off-putting. I didn't say it, but I thought that Randy was being snobby
about Billy White Cloud's church-not the right way for gay guys to treat
each other. "Is it the outhouse you don't like?"

The Chippewa boy was glaring at me, as if I was an intruding stranger.
That's what I thought at first. Later I realized that he was smitten. His
gaze was directed at me. He hardly noticed Randy. Unusually for a country
church, the boy was playing a Mendelssohn piano piece as a prelude before
the service. He knew it well enough to play it by heart while glancing at
me. I fancied that he was playing it for me. As a sign of approval, I gave
him an O with my thumb and index finger. There ought to be a name for that
gesture. Maybe there is. The boy was short and slender, gracile,
sweet-looking-the type of guy I'd like to make a man of.

Before the service started, Randy and I saw Billy at the front door. He
thanked us for coming. I asked to see him in private, so we walked to one
side of the building. I asked him about the pianist. Billy said he name was
Red Feather. Was that his first name or his last name? I wondered. Just Red
Feather. I asked if t Red Feather could be invited to join us. Our
threesome would be a foursome. "Only if you treat him with kindness," Billy
said. "He's nineteen, but still an inexperienced boy." We could pair off, I
suggested: Randy with Billy, and me with Red Feather. Billy agreed eagerly.

"By the way, I've got a turkey in the oven, so we'll have a feast ready
when we get to my place," I said. "And about Red Feather, he's quite an
accomplished musician. He's playing Mendelssohn, without the aid of a
score."

"You noticed!"

Most people imagine the North Country as a hopelessly uncultured wasteland
- not without reason. I myself have encountered rural mindlessness. One of
my cousins, Dave Preston (a lumber-cutting contractor) once laughed at my
foolishness for spending money on hard-cover books. He had been to college,
where he was single-minded in his study of business. At graduation he was
the same person as when he started as a freshman. College should be like
first-time sex. It should make you a different person: maybe happier or
sadder, but always wiser. At the time of his college graduation, Dave's
mind was virginal, improved only by a practical knack for numbers. Maybe
he's the norm, but there are many folks in the North Country who are
interested in music and culture. Red Feather was one of them. Still,
musical genius lifted Red Feather to a status above all others. We would go
far, I could see, if only someone would help him.

The service was planned as a prelude to Thanksgiving. "We Gather Together
to Ask the Lord's Blessing." "Come Ye Thankful People Come." "For the
Beauty of the Earth." A young lady, introduced as the lector, read a
passage about the "spiritual gifts" from Ephesians 4, which declares that
everyone in the church is blessed with some gift or special talent, and
that everyone's gift is as important as any other. The church had a pulpit,
but Billy didn't make much use of it. Instead, he walked around the room,
repeating the theme "diverse gifts." He wanted us to play a game. Each of
us must identify someone else in the congregation who had some special
talent. He said we should start with our two visitors from Lake Ashawa, who
were friends of his. Billy started the game by naming Randy for his Irish
charm, and said how nice he had been to Mrs. Ravitch in Hibbing. Randy
stood up and introduced me as a writer of mysteries. (I silently thanked
God that Randy was on his best behavior and said nothing about the talents
with which he was more familiar!) I stood up and praised Red Feather for
playing Mendelssohn. I never saw a "red" man turn so red with blushing,
three times red! Red Feather praised Mrs. Helen White Dove for her donuts
in the town's coffee shop. Mrs. White Dove stood up and praised one of the
children for memorizing John 3:16. And so it continued throughout the
congregation, until everyone was praised for some gift-even the
children. There were about thirty people present, mostly women, but a few
men, and twelve children. Randy and I stood out as the only "white men."
All the others were Chippewa. For the offering, I had prepared a check for
$100, but held it back. Instead I wrote a check for $200.

After the service, almost everyone in the congregation greeted us. We no
longer felt like strangers. Even Randy was moved. As a Catholic, he had
never been to a service like this. After everyone else had gone, Randy,
Billy, and I were free to talk strategy while Red Feather listened. We
decided that Billy would drive to my place with Randy, and Red Feather
would ride with me. Randy had expected a threesome, but he was pleased with
the new arrangement. He had designs on Billy White Cloud's ass. For me and
Red Feather, it was more like a blind date.

On the drive back to my place, I broke the ice with Red Feather by asking
him what other pieces he knew by heart besides Mendelssohn. He rattled off
some Bach, and Brahms, and Liszt, and Chopin, mostly self-taught. I made up
my mind to help this boy get a proper musical education. I told him about
my career, writing mystery novels. He talked about his life on the
Reservation. His mother had died of an untreated cancer. His father was
killed in a car accident. He had been driving drunk. The church was his
only family, and Billy White Cloud was his mentor.

"I guess you already know that Randy and I are gay. That's why we're
getting together," I said.

"I know."

I invited Red Feather to sit closer in the car. "You can put your hand on
my leg, if you want to." I said. Red Feather hesitated, and blushed. "It's
all right, Red Feather. We're going to be friends," I said. He moved
closer. I felt his hand on my leg. He moved it around a bit, exploring my
leg muscles.

I told Red Feather about our plan for the afternoon. "First we'll feast on
turkey, then we'll take a sauna, the four of us together. After that, we'll
pair off. You and me. Billy and Randy. If that's agreeable to you."

Red Feather he had never had sex with anyone. He was nervous. He never
dreamed that his first guy would be an athletic hunk. "Don't worry about
that, Red Feather," I said. "I won't bark or bite. I'm just a regular guy."

"That I don't believe," Red Feather said. "The 'regular guy' part, I mean."

"Red Feather, I'm going to tell you something about me that you should
know. It's a secret. Can you keep a secret?"

Red Feather nodded.

"In most gay relationships, one guy is mostly a top, and the other is a
bottom. Many gay guys are versatile and can go either way, but most gay
love affairs are between tops and bottoms," I said. "It's a law of
nature. Of course, if you love someone, you can be anything your lover
needs you to be."

"That's the secret?"

"No, that's not the secret," I continued. "Would you care to guess what I
am: top, bottom, or versatile?"

"I assume you're a top, but a kind one," Red Feather said.

"And you?"

"I don't really know." Red Feather said.

"You don't know, or you're too shy to say?" I asked. "Do you think you have
to say you're a bottom just because you think I'm a top? Let me put the
question this way. Forget about me, and Randy, and Billy. If you entered a
room with two guys who wanted to be with you, let's call them Black Bear
and Blue Fox, and you knew that Black Bear was a top, and Blue Fox was a
bottom, which one would you choose to be with? You can only choose one."

"I guess I'd go with Blue Fox," he said.

"Good answer," I said. "You can feel my crotch if you want." Red Feather
explored my hardened crotch with his hand. "That's Blue Fox," I said.

Red Feather looked bewildered. "Red Feather," I said, "I'm not the only
hunk in the world who likes to get fucked by a guy," I said. "Looks can be
deceiving." Red Feather blushed. "I'm sorry if I'm being too direct, or
moving too fast," I said. "We don't have to do anything today. We can just
hang out, if that's what you want. I like being together with you just for
who you are."

We approached the town of Orr. "Maybe you should move back to the window,"
I said. "Someone might see us." Red Feather moved over.

Half way between Orr and Ashawa, I turned on a dirt road that led to a
deserted farm. On one side of the road was woods; on the other side, a
wind-swept field of snow. "Let's get out and take a look," I said. Once we
were outside, Red Feather looked alarmed. Was he afraid I might leave him
there? I held his hand. We trudged down the road in the snow. "Your music
blew my socks off," I said. Your body blows my rocks off, I wanted to say,
but instead: "You're a very nice guy. I think it's time you made friends
off the Reservation, starting with me and Randy." I hugged him. He hugged
me back. It wasn't an embrace or a kiss, just a hug for reassurance, but I
guided his hand toward my butt. He blushed, but he enjoyed the
familiarity. He liked it that he could lay hands on me.

When we got to the cabin, Randy and Billy were busy setting the
table. Randy had already started boiling potatoes and beans. I assigned Red
Feather the task of carving the turkey, while I made the gravy. Randy
opened the red wine. I assigned Red Feather the task of opening the brandy,
for after dinner. We enjoyed our feast, with good conversation, not without
jokes about me and Red Feather arriving somewhat later than we should have
done. Red Feather blushed at the memory of his hand on my butt.

After dinner, we all pitched in to clean up the dishes. I put most of the
leftover turkey in a plastic box for Red Feather to take home with him. The
best way to make dinner guest feel at home is to let them help out with
serving dinner. Billy took Red Feather aside to ask if he was all right
with the way things were going. "If you want out, I can take you home," he
said. Red Feather said he wanted to stay. "I really like Jake," he said. "I
want to be with him."

Randy and Billy sat by the fire with their brandy. I told them that Red
Feather would help me prepare the sauna. We loaded a basket of towels, wash
cloths, and soap. We donned our coats, and trudged through the snow to the
lake. I showed Red Feather how to prepare the coals and light the fire
through a little metal door behind the sauna. When the fire was lit, we
filled pails of water to put on a shelf by the stove. Together we foraged
for balsam boughs, and laid them in a bundle on the top bench in the
sauna. I explained their use to Red Feather.

We went for a walk in the forest. "It will take a half hour or more to warm
up the sauna," I said. "There's no hurry. Are you ready for this?" I asked
Red Feather. "We'll all be naked in the sauna, and there will be a lot of
messing around and grab-ass, that sort of thing," I said. "Let them do what
they want. I won't let them fuck you. And make sure you pay them back with
some grab-ass of your own."

Red Feather held my hand. "I'm just glad I'll be with you, Jake," he
said. He seemed to wander in a dream, when we walked in the woods
together. "I've got an idea," I said, "It's still deer hunting season. We
could go hunting tomorrow, if you want, and maybe stay with me for a few
days. How would that be? I could drive you back to Crane Lake on Friday, or
earlier if you need to."

"I'd love to, Jake, but I've never been hunting before, and I don't know
how to use a gun."

"Tell you what," I replied, "Tomorrow morning we'll go to town for our
hunting licenses, and get you some hunting gear. We can spend the afternoon
target-shooting. I've got a couple .22s that are good enough for
hunting. Of course, we'll have to clean them. I'm pretty rusty myself. Then
we can hunt on Tuesday, or maybe all week if we don't have any luck."

Red Feather realized that I was offering friendship, not just a roll in the
sack. He agreed, enthusiastically. I wondered why Billy White Cloud hadn't
taken him hunting, but figured that maybe Billy didn't hunt, either.

We returned to the cabin to find Randy and Billy sipping brandy and making
out on the sofa. They still had their clothes on, but their newfound
friendship was evident in their faces and tented crotches. Billy blushed
when Red Feather saw him in Randy's embrace. Red Feather's face reddened,
too. Billy had been his substitute father, so he was embarrassed at the
thought that Billy would see him naked, and be naked himself.

"We're all guys here. Get used to it," I admonished. I had a supply of
little blue pills and passed them around. We sat in a circle by the fire,
and washed viagra down with brandy, like taking communion.

Red Feather and I sat by the fire Indian-style with our brandies (no pun
intended!). It was sauna time. I told Randy and Billy to change into sweats
and go. We would follow in a few minutes. We watched Randy and Billy get
rock-hard naked in the bedroom. Red Feather was awed by the sight of
Randy's nine-incher. Together they looked like a page torn from Ripley's
"Believe it or Not."  Billy fondled Randy's cock and giggled. Randy
squeezed Billy's butt in a proprietary way. Amid the splendor of Randy's
frontal display, Billy had no reason to complain that hid cute butt had
gone unnoticed. It is everyone's fate to look for love in his own
way. Randy and Billy found theirs.

As soon as they left, I took Red Feather's hand and led him to the
bedroom. I stripped while he watched. Adolescent admiration mingled with
lust as he looked me over. I dropped my sweats on the floor. When I bent
over to pick up the sweats, I moved slowly, to give Red Feather a chance to
look at my butt. I smiled, arms raised, muscles flexed, and turned round a
couple times in playful exhibition. I moved in close to Red Feather, and
flexed again. Red Feather put his hands on my chest. I invited him to pinch
my nipples. "Harder," I whispered. "Yeah, that's the way."

I pinched Red Feather's nipples in return. He yelped. They were too
sensitive for pinching, so I switched to a soft caress of his nipples and
pits. "It takes time and patience to learn another man's body," I said.

Red Feather fondled my torso, arms, thighs. I guided his hand to my cock. I
turned around to show my backside. His hands roved down my back, from
shoulders to butt. I spread my legs wide apart. Red Feather ran his fingers
into my crevice. I stood with one foot on the bed and bent forward. "How's
this for a target?" I asked. Red Feather pawed my naked butt.


I pulled up my sweatpants and put on a sweatshirt. It was Red Feather's
turn to strip. I helped him out of his shirt. He shucked his pants and
shorts. His gracile body shimmered in the dim light of the kerosene
lamp. His golden skin was silky with brown. His cock throbbed six inches. I
fondled it. "This will cause me some pain. I have a weakness for
foreskins," I said as I retracted his. Slowly it slid back into place. I
helped him into his sweats.

I explained the routine of the sauna: soaping, rinsing, balsam-massage,
rolling in the snow, free-play in the steam-room. I passed out bars of soap
and wash cloths. For our first task --- the soap-job --- I was tempted to
pair Red Feather with Randy, and me with Billy, but swapping partners would
have been too advanced for Red Feather. This was Gay Love 101. It was
enough to watch Billy and Randy fondle each other with soapy hands. Red
Feather and I imitated them with a puppy-love version of fondling.

Red Feather joined in more fully during the balsam-massage. He seemed to be
shy about the other guys handling his cock, but he liked touching the
others. No one complained that his anatomy had been untouched by balsamy
hands. When we went outside for a snow break, I stood with my back to Red
Feather and wrapped his hands around my abdomen. I dropped face-forward
into the snow, taking Red Feather with me. His cock nestled in my crack
while we rolled in the snow. Randy and Billy played grab-ass.

Red Feather's hero-worship worked to my advantage, and to my disadvantage.
He wanted to be with me, but wide-eyed admiration was a barrier to lust.
How to change bromance to romance? Our potential wouldn't be unleashed
until Red Feather could see me as an available sex object. I wouldn't force
the issue. Friendship was more important than sex. In time we would have
both.