Date: Tue, 18 Apr 2017 19:42:52 -0400
From: Orson Cadell <orson.cadell@gmail.com>
Subject: Dear John Letter 2

Please see original story
(www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-friends/lake-desolation/) for warnings and
copyright. Highlights: All fiction. All rights reserved. Includes sex
between adult men of different generations. Go away if any of that is
against your local rules. Practice safer sex than my characters. Write if
you like, but flamers end up in the nasty bits of future stories. Donate to
Nifty **TODAY** at donate.nifty.org/donate.html to keep the cum coming.

Quick note: There is no descriptor line or quick-codes about the sex in
this story from here on out. This is a love story. There will be plenty of
intimacy and sexual thrills, but that is not the thrust (pun intended) of
this tale.

*****
Previous chapter:

This was something beyond mere fulfillment. It was completion in the
most-literal sense -- my mind, body and soul came together in that moment
and wrapped around Mick's own and I was suddenly, irrevocably, complete for
the first time in my life. My cum coated us both by the time I was
finished. Mick pulled back and I saw him open his eyes, long closed through
the orgasmic kiss, with a look of worry and impending regret. It was
heartbreaking. "I love you, Mick. I love you now, I loved you then, I love
you forever." He started to cry in earnest, and I knew that these were the
words he longed for as much as I had; the difference is that he'd known
this and for me it was a sudden, earth-shattering revelation.
Regardless. It was the truest thing I'd ever said.

*****

Dear John Letter 2: The Day After

by Bear Pup

*****

We both looked down and started to laugh. I'm not a fur-monster, but I had
plenty of hair in my chest and treasure trail, and my thick pubes were the
only hair I had left that was the original black. Not anymore. All of it,
pecs to pubes, was now the vaguely-yellowish cream color of my epic load of
cum. Mick's arms and one side of his shirt were equally soaked. He stripped
it off and I gasped.

It's Washington State; no one had a tan. But his skin was like pale cream
set off by large, round aureoles with a meaty nipple in each. The nipples
were almost reddish. His dense treasure trail, like his shaggy mane, seemed
to be in a state of internal war trying to be auburn and chestnut at the
same time. Otherwise, the skin was utterly smooth and unblemished, like a
statue brought to life.

I reached out a hand and noticed that I was shaking, which delighted me
somehow. Mick pulled in a shuddering and intense gasp as my work-rough
hands stroked gently up his side. I started to pull back and Mick seized my
wrist in an iron grip, holding me fast to his skin and bringing my hand to
his right nipple. I began to pinch and tease lightly. Mick threw back his
head and groaned so I grew bolder. I brought my other hand around and now
teased both, making Mick whine and hunch. In moments, he let loose with a
breathless, near-silent scream and went from hunching to bucking as he
began to unload in his pants.

I pulled him bodily atop me, latching one hand behind his neck and the
other in the small of his back, kissing Mick with 48 years of hunger even
as he continued to thrust, spasm and whimper. I sucked every sound from him
as his release slowly abated and he began to be a participant in the kiss,
then suddenly became its master. His hands were on either side of my face
as he tried to both fulfill and stoke my aching need. We writhed rather a
lot like eels in the smeared mess we'd made as his smooth, old jeans begin
to soak up one load from each side of the fabric.

And just as quickly, the spell broke like a soap-bubble bursting. Mick
tried to pull away from me and I was having none of it. He finally stopped
struggling and I was able to simply hold this wonderful, precious gift. The
next kiss was tender and slow. I felt his breathing and heart rate
slow. When he was back to normal, I slid us both off the massage table. I
was still taller than him by a head and gazed down into his golden-hazel
eyes.

"Thank you. For the gift, and for being here. I need to know, Mick, if this
is something you wanted, or something you still want. I don't want to read
too much into this and... I mean... I can't let myself... I can't..." He
put a finger to my lips, silencing me.

"I want this, and you, for as long as you will have me Johnny. You, and
this, are what I have wanted as long as I can remember. I am terrified,
Johnny. I'm scared I'll be hurt and even more scared I might hurt you. I
have...." he laughed a little brittlely, "My dad has been helping me hold
it together for weeks. I was getting panic attacks thinking about how you
might not, might just..."

Instead of a finger to his lips, I silenced him with a kiss, then pulled
back. "You are braver than I am, son. And we're both going to be scared for
a long time, I think. But right now, right this moment, there is nothing on
Earth that I fear, and nothing in me but happiness." Even at my age, I
still had the power to lift his thin, taut frame like a child. He wrapped
his arms around my neck as I carried him up the stairs to the loft. I
shouldered the switches at the top of the staircase to douse the lights in
the bay and turn on just the bedside lamp.

"Will you..."

"Yes."

I laughed. "You don't even know what I was going to ask!"

His eyes pierced mine. Without a trace of smile, instead with a fierce and
serious resolve, he replied, "I know that. And the answer is still yes."

I sucked in a breath and let it out in something between a sigh and a sob
and laid him carefully on the bed. I slapped his hands away as they went to
undo his belt, and I carefully, lovingly, reverently unwrapped the best
birthday present of my entire life. He hissed when I pulled the flaps of
his jeans apart and some of his pubes came with them; Mick was going
commando and his cum load was not letting go without a fight.

I finally got the jeans loose and wrapped my hands to the waistband in the
back, lifting him from the mattress. I slowly pulled the pants off and
flung them aside. Mick blushed adorably, his chest and face both getting
pink as he smiled shyly. "Is, um, do I look okay?"

I locked eyes with him and leaned in for a kiss. Just before our lips
touched, I said, "No. You look like an angel, like the perfect dream."

Then we fucked like demented bunnies. No, I'm sorry, but that is not what
either of us wanted or needed. We were both rampant, leaking, moaning, but
the focus was the kiss, the touches tender, hesitant, loving. This went on
for an age, each of us taking charge at times, until I reached up and
killed the lamp.

Now the only light was the desultory night-glow from the marina in the rear
window and brilliant starlight from the larger windows to the front of the
building. At that time, we were laying on our sides. I turned him to face
as I was, toward the starshine, and pulled him into my body, wrapping him
with arms and legs and the light blanket. I kissed the nape of his neck.

Mick turned his face to mine, eyes aglow. "I have never been happier,
Johnny, than I am at this moment. Will you... h-h-hold me as we sleep?"

Losing myself in his soul-penetrating gaze, I whispered. "No, Mick, I will
hold you forever." He turned away and I felt wetness on my arm, as he
probably felt on his shoulder, as we both silently, joyously, cried
ourselves to sleep.

I woke early, a habit I had never been able to break. I kept my eyes closed
tightly, desperate not to break the dream -- the very strange and wonderful
and terrifying dream -- that Mick had made love to me and let me make love
to him. As I drifted more toward consciousness, I realized that my left arm
was fully asleep and that Mick's body was pressed to mine. I shook with a
silent sob as I realized that it had been real.

The rose glow from the lake-facing windows told me that the sun would crest
the mountains within the hour, likely less. I looked across at this
man-child whom I had loved his whole life long, never realizing that my
love was deeper than affection, never imagining -- never letting myself
imagine - that it could be more. His shaggy hair was matted and stuck up
hilariously as I simply gazed at his curled form, blushed with the
dawnlight.

Nature, though, is a cruel bitch and my bladder was making urgent demands
that, at my age, one learned to answer swiftly. I carefully pulled myself
from under him but felt a pang of remorse as I recognized that I'd started
him on the path to wakefulness. I also noticed that the sheets were not
particularly interested in letting me go. In addition to {I blushed hard} a
mess of tenacious dried cum, the massage oils had adhered the fabric to me
like a wet glue.

I made it to the head and let loose with a thunderous splash, scratching
myself luxuriantly with a yawned moan of pleasure. Normally, I'd jack one
off if I was feeling randy, which are far beyond merely true. I gave myself
a tug, wincing as more glued pubes were yanked or twisted by the
action. Instead, I shook myself off and started to turn, my semi preceding
me.

"Don't stop on my account." I turned a squawk into a slightly-more-manly
cough.

"You startled me, Mick."

"I meant to." There was a sly, slow, meaningful tone there, a tone that
clearly said, 'I hope to startle you for a long, long time.'

I went to walk past, but closed my eyes for a long blink. I had to know. I
had to find out. I had to do it now or die. I leaned forward to kiss him,
prepared for the rejection and the sharp but survivable pain it would
bring, but instead found his mouth warm and loving on mine. When I opened
my eyes, I saw his were moist and his lip trembled. "Oh, God, Johnny! I was
so, so scared you wouldn't do that! I laid awake half the night terrified
that you would wake up and not, and be, and think--"

I kissed him quickly again and whispered, "Which is why I kissed you. I had
to know, Mick. I had to know if this dream was over or just beginning." I
stepped past him before I could start bawling and gave him a sharp and loud
smack in the ass. My voice was forced-cheerful, but also gravelly and rough
with emption, "Get cleaned up while I make breakfast. We've got work to do
today."

I soon had eggs in the poacher, a thin, aluminum monstrosity from four
decades before, but still serviceable. I thought for a second and realized
I have no idea what Mick liked for a morning meal. The subject had never
come up. I decided, fuck it, and made something I normally did for myself,
using five eggs instead of my usual two. I split and grilled the bagels,
then punched holes in the middle of each with a cookie cutter, also as old
as time itself. I put a thin sliver of salmon over the hole in each
half-bagel, then decanted a poached egg into the waiting bagel-hole. I
finished plating and got sour cream and hot sauce onto the table just as
Mick came out.

I blushed furiously as I realized that I was still naked, rampant and
flaking dried cum. Mick prowled across to the table like a tomcat but
didn't sit down. Instead he moved behind me and wrapped his arms around my
waist, kissing my back. "Can we eat like this, Johnny, just us?" I nodded
mutely as he slid into a chair and I sat the plate with the three eggs in
front of him with knife and fork.

He cut in and the yolk flowed out, then took a bite. His eyes lit up and
his smile nearly blinded me. "This is so good, Johnny. I've never had
it. What's it called?"

I stammered for a minute and mumbled, "Um, breakfast I guess. I never
thought of giving it a name." Mick laughed, spooned a dab of sour cream and
tried it, then a dash of hot sauce and his stomach growled in
satisfaction. I just marveled at the fact that he ate it like I did; I
never really thought what an odd combination my "bagel breakfast" was. He
finished first and took his plate and silverware and washed them, stacking
them in the rack to dry, then did the same to the poacher and the cutting
board. When I sat back, he whisked mine away as well and was done in a
trice.

He smiled at me and then flushed hard. "Um, Johnny, I think we have a
problem." My heart froze to solid ice and my breathing stopped
entirely. Mick looked down. "I, um, kinda ruined my jeans last night when
you, well, made me, you know? What, uh, what am I gonna wear?"

I laughed in relief. "As much as I'd like to keep you just like that,
remember that we're above the shop bay. You have odds and ends down in the
bath closet!" He sagged with relief himself and was off. I think his feet
touched about three steps all the way down, still managing to sound like a
charging rhino.

I smiled giddily and took a quick shower myself, mainly to get the cum and
oil off. I dragged on my normal work attire, canvas pants and shirt with
lots of pockets in each. I looked down and realized that it wasn't much
different than what I'd worn in the Navy, though I'd have been thrown
overboard for letting the grease stains build up. I headed down and found
Mick in some running shorts (very obviously sans jock strap) and a
too-tight tee shirt. He also had on his socks and sneakers from the night
before, probably the only un-cummed articles of clothing from the evening.

He gave me a quick salute and asked if I wanted to join, but I declined and
he set off on his morning run. I knew he'd be back in about 30 minutes, not
having broken a full sweat. His mornings were just to loosen up and get
ready for the day. I pulled up the rollaway door and pulled on my
toolbelt. There was a partly-rebuilt outboard on my main bench, and I set
to tinkering. It had been a mystery why the thing ticked; there was nothing
there to tick in the first place.

Mack was there so quickly I knew he'd been sitting in the house watching
for the door to open. "So, um, how was the birthday present?" There might
have been a trace of a leer in there, but there was a lot more worry,
probably for both of us.

"Oh, hi Mack. The lasagna was GREAT. Thanks. It was a really great meal to
top of a wonderful birthday. I can't thank you and Sally enough for putting
that together. It was," I coughed with a bit of emotion, "unexpected and
perfect. Thank you."

"Uh, good. Good. Glad you liked it." Mack's eyes were now thin slits. I
relished the fact that he was dying to know what/whether/how on the "real"
birthday present, but I'd left him no hints at all. Other than the fact his
son had not slept in his own bed last night, of course. He gave it a good
five minutes before his next gambit.

"And, er... Mick?"

"Oh, he was the perfect host!"

"Great. Um, did you get a massage? He's been taking classes and
practicing?"

"Best ever! That kid has real, serious talent. If he wasn't such a damned
good boat mechanic, I'd tell him to open a shop." Another long pause, a
pause so pregnant that it was about to have triplets. I let it stretch
until Mack couldn't take it anymore. Hey! This was FUN!

"And, uh, Mick slept over here?"

"Yep. We were both plumb worn out."

"So, um, did you, well...?"

"Well what, Mack? Sorry, not sure what you're asking...?"

I glanced occasionally to check that he was still stewing on how to ask
without actually asking. Now, any good mechanic can tell you that
inattention to your work is a Very Bad Plan. And thus it proved: Mack
slipped his thumb and gave it a nice, deep, grease- and grit-filled
scrape. "Motherfuckinggaddamnedsonofa!" His stream of invective was cut
abruptly as he plunged his thumb into his mouth, an automatic response that
you never really outgrow.

We heard soft running steps and Mick walked in, casually moving in a slow
stretch. He gave a cheery, "Hi, dad!" and walked over to me. I watched
Mack's face as he sucked his thumb, looking for all the world like a highly
disgruntles toddler. Mick leaned in and gave me a long kiss of the cheek
and petted my arm, "I'm going to get into some work clothes, guys. Back in
five."

Mack's resemblance to a shocked toddler was profound. Hand to God, he
looked like a kid who just saw Santa pissing off the roof. Eyes like
saucers, his face a frozen mask of conflicting emotions. I couldn't help
it. I busted out into belly-aching laughter, literally collapsing and
rolling into a ball. Mick popped his head back out, shirtless but already
in canvas painter-pants.

"Mack, you okay? You need a drink of water?"

Between hoots of mirth, I stuttered," May -- Maybe in a -- a Sippy Cup?"
and dissolved again.

Mack eyes cross as his looked down as his thumb-sucking posture and pulled
it out with a distinct PLOP and pushed it behind his back. In the process,
scratching the scrape across the fabric, brings a new string of cursing. I
finally caught my breath and Mack was standing there, scowling, "You coulda
just told me, Johnny."

"From thumb-suck to full-on pout in twelve seconds!" and I busted up again.

He gave me a solid head-slap as he walked by and disappeared into the
dressing room alcove where Mick was dressing. I heard the water running as
Mack washed his wound, two voices murmuring and indistinct.

They came out together, Mick was beaming and Mack had a proud if wistful
smile. "Walk with me, Johnny?" Mack asked.

I downed tools and walked with him. When were well out of earshot, he spoke
softly to me. "You have made my son a very happy man, Johnny. I can't tell
you how worked up he was, about whether you'd, well, ignore or reject him."

"I--"

"No, you get to shut up now. We've talked about you for years, you
know. Whether you were... would be open to, well, you know. Did he tell you
he's been having panic attacks every night for a week? Sally and I were
terrified what would happen, no matter how much he said he was okay with
you not, you know, wanting, uh, anything."

"I didn't know I wanted 'anything', Mack. And I swear to God I never
thought about Mick that way, never, you've got to understand that. You know
that, right?"

"Yeah, you old goat, and that was the problem! You never even hinted one
way or the other. When, well, you know what happened when he was 13? Then
you didn't bat an eyelash or treat the Martin thing any different at
all. What were we to think? I guess he so wanted to be true that, uh, Sally
and I just hoped."

"And if you'd asked me, Mack, I would have made it worse. Until, well," I
blushed harder than I had since I was a teen, "um, until later, I never
guessed I'd have thought that way. I mean, at all. This has really thrown
me, Mack."

"I know, mate. I know." We turned and started to head back, just
walking. "One thing that you need to know, one old salt to another." His
voice now was granite and gravel, "If you hurt my boy, I will rip your
balls off and make you eat them."

I coughed and half-laughed, then got serious. "Okay, both clear and
vivid. But you need to know, I would never hurt him. I'd die first. I, I,
I'm a l-lot more worried -- keep this to yourself, Mack -- I'm terrified,
literally shaking, that I'll do something to lose him or he'll r-r-realize
I'm just an old tar and..."  I was crying by then. Mack reached out and
gripped my shoulder hard. "It would kill me Mack. I am so scared."

"I can't fix that, old friend. But I will say this. I have never seen Mick
happier, and I'm not sure Mick could hurt you on purpose. Other than that,
it's all a crap shoot, mate. But just to be clear, I really was not kidding
about feeding you your own testicles. You've been warned."

The rest of the day passed as close to normal as it was possible to
be. Maggie came up from the Marina about a hull-crack on a live-aboard. She
always preferred to take a quick walking (smoking) break instead of just
calling. Mick tooled up and walked back with her. I watched his lean, fit
body (and amazing ass, who was I kidding?) walked away. Until they got out
of my field of view, I just stared at the man who was now my... My mind
blanked. What were we? There were a dozen terms and all of them had shades
of meaning but none of them felt right.

My mind teased at it like my tongue would probe a loose tooth. I was in a
study of sorts by the time Mick got back the time we'd normally close
up. Mack gave us A Look and headed over to the house while I closed the
rollaway. Mick was leaning up against his workbench, staring.

"Johnny, what are we?" His voice was small but firm. I pulled a workstool
over and sat, "I've been asking myself that all day. Wh-- um, what do you
want us to be?" I held my breath, utterly afraid of the answer.

"I think. Well, I think. I'm not sure what word works. I want it to be like
we're married, but neither of us is a wife and 'spouse' is something on a
government form." That really took me aback.

"Y-you're saying that if, well, if it were different you'd really, like,
actually marry me?" I knew I sounded like a kid. I think my voice almost
broke.

"In an instant, Johnny. I want to be yours and I want you to be mine. I
never want us apart."

"B-But isn't that, um, really quick?"

He bit his lip as it trembled. His voice was now even softer, and
shook. "No, but if it's not wh-what you w-w-want...?"

I was to him in an instant. "You don't get it, do you? I love you more than
anything I ever loved. I never knew it until last night, but I want you
forever. I just," I was shaking now as I held his hand to my chest, "I
can't see why you'd w-want me? You have your whole life ahead of you--"

He yanked his hand back and those hazel eyes blazed. "And so do YOU,
Johnny. If I-I-I'm too young or something..."

I recaptured the hand, "No, you are not too young. But are you sure I'm not
too old? You deserve better than me, Mick."

I could see that was a serious mistake. Mick was actually pissed. He pulled
away from me but several steps. "If you ever say that again, I, I..."

"Mack has already told me that if I hurt you, he's gonna cut off my nuts
and feed them to me. So make your threat a good one, kid." I smirked at
him. His eyes got wide and suddenly he was back in my arms.

We stood like that for a minute and then I coxed him up the stairs. We sat
on my battered and tattered old denim sofa. I pulled him to me and we
cradled each other.

"So, Mick, now we've got some even harder questions." He looked up with me,
his eyes red but not having shed a tear. "What do we do now? If you don't
sleep in your house, the whole lake will know within a day or so. Are you,
well, are you ready for that?"

"Yes." There was no hesitation. No uncertainty.

"People can be mean, Mick, and cruel. Even today with Clinton in the White
House and gays serving in government jobs, there are a lot of folks who
will hate you, hate us, for that alone. And what will you tell Jake, son?"

"Tell JAKE?" Mick actually laughed. "He's been on me for like six years to
get off my ass and make a pass at you!" I was flabbergasted. JAKE?!?

"Um, is he...?"

"Oh, hell no. Jake is terminally straight. But he's known that I, um, like
men since about the time he started to, well, you know. He ransacked my
room one day looking for jack-off material and found my stash. The little
fucker took my weed and then had the balls to say that If I asked for it
back he'd tell mom about the magazines he found underneath it." He laughed
again. "What made it really funny was that Mom knew, but the threat was
still good. She didn't care if I was gay, but if she'd found porn in the
house, I'd still be grounded!"

I chuckled. "So, um, Sally and M-Mack are...?"

He sighed deeply. "They love you, Johnny. They love me and accept me, but
Sally has worried about you and your... loneliness since before Wally
passed. You know she's still religious, right?" I nodded slowly. "She prays
for you to find someone every night, right after praying for dad to stop
being an ass and for Jake to stay safe in the Navy."

Mick's face blurs as my tears well up, unshed but heartfelt.

"So, Johnny, can I, do you, can we. Damn this is hard. Is it too soon for
me to, to, live here? With you?"

"No, Mick, it's not too soon. I just hope," and there my voice really did
break, "I just pray to God it's not too late." His face tilted up and his
eyes closed and we were suddenly in a kiss. A kiss of a passion that does
not burn, but warms. A passion that does not demand, but yearns. A passion
that, I prayed silently, would never fade or die.

<eof>

Comments and suggestions are always welcome. They are the only way I can
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feedback that can make me a better author, please e-mail me at
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Active storelines, all at www.nifty.org/nifty/gay...
Canvas Hell: 21 chapters .../camping/canvas-hell/
Beaux Thibodaux: 12 chapters .../adult-youth/beaux-thibodaux/
The Heathens: 13 chapters .../historical/the-heathens/
Off the Magic Carpet: 7 chapters .../military/off-the-magic-carpet/
Lake Desolation: 6 chapters .../rural/lake-desolation/
Dear John Letter: 2 chapters .../military/dear-john-letter/
Brother Bear: 1 chapter .../incest/brother-bear/