Date: Thu, 2 Oct 2008 15:59:06 -0700
From: no1knows@msn.com
Subject: the river of no return

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

     He was looking at my neck again.


To be continued



Hope your eyes didn't go bad reading a story so long, and sorry for the
lack of sex scenes there will be some sex in the next chapter

I love feedback - positive or negative

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