| Chapter 16 |
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At three o’clock the next day, eight friends sat wedged in cool water in the hot tub,
drinking beer in the heat of the afternoon. Linda had emptied six bags of ice to cool
down the water. The harsh sun had moved further into the western sky, now blocked
by the sprawling limbs of a live oak. Shade had settled over the tub. A steady
fanfare of cicadas hummed in the sultry air, intermixed with the voice of Ray Charles
from the outdoor speakers. The group, jovial and feeling mellow, never dreamed
Mrs. Thompson from next door would suddenly appear on the scene.
Sally noticed her first. She had just stepped out of the tub to get another round of
beer, her ample curves wet and glistening with afternoon sun. She gasped. Four
bottles dangled from between her fingers. Dripping wet, she stood staring at a
woman she didn’t know not ten feet away.
Mrs. Thompson had emerged from the high garden near a stand of mature Texas
sage. She had evidently come through the gate at the front of the house, then
followed the footpath through the woods-like garden that separated the two houses.
By the time Sally took hold of her senses and turned toward the others, they too were
staring at the woman.
Linda’s disbelieving gaze was fixed on the horrified neighbor. David lowered his
head to rub his pained eyes. The easy camaraderie had turned into consternation.
Mrs. Thompson made a feeble attempt to explain. “Uh ... no one answered the
doorbell. I uh ... the gate was open ... I ...” She turned abruptly and disappeared
back into the shadowy foliage.
They sat quietly for a moment, somewhat stunned, stealing glances at one another.
Then Linda blurted: “David, I had no idea that gate was unlocked! So don’t blame
me.”
He looked up and glared at his wife, eyes narrow with incredulous disbelief. Not that
Mrs. Thompson was a stuffy woman—she was, but she was also a good Christian
who had now seen him, his wife and their nude friends drinking beer in the hot tub.
He recalled the numerous times Mrs. Thompson had invited them to church.
“You do realize she’ll tell the entire neighborhood about what goes on at the Westin
residence?”
“That could be a problem,” said Sally, stepping back into the water. “No room for
another soul in this tub.”
Shasha nearly choked on a mouthful of beer.
David looked at her. “Fine! When you all get here next Saturday and see a big red
letter ‘A’ painted on our front door, at least you’ll know why.”
Linda spoke calmly. “I’ll make sure the gate is locked by then.”
“It’s not really fair,” said Michelle. “That’s twice David and Linda have been
embarrassed by hosting naked Saturday. First their son, now their neighbors.”
“David,” said Jorge, “you’ve sacrificed your social standing for our benefit. We all
owe you and Linda a debt of gratitude.”
“That’s okay,” David said sardonically. “I can always wear a paper bag over my
head when I leave the house.”
Then James: “Maybe we should rotate houses. Even out the ruined reputations a
little.”
“I personally don’t care what that woman thinks,” said Linda. “She’s a little too holier-
than-thou for me. Maybe she’ll quit popping over unannounced.”
“Maybe?” David scoffed.
After a momentary silence, Sally asked: “So what were we talking about before Mrs.
Thompson’s visit?”
“Jake was telling us about your last trip to the Mexican coast.”
“Anyway,” Jake said, “now that that’s over. The place I’m talking about is just south of
Cancun. We’ve been down there three times. It’s paradise. After we spent a day
snorkeling we had a little adventure on our last trip down.”
“It was an adventure all right. First time I slept outside since I was a little girl.
Definitely the last. I didn’t realize how active your imagination gets during the night in
the middle of nowhere. Two nights in the jungle was enough for this girl.”
“She’s right. It’s a true jungle. We heard about a little village about twenty miles
inland and decided to do a little sightseeing. One road in, the same road out. The
word primitive comes to mind. It follows a river all the way to the village and ends a
couple of miles further inland. From there we hiked another mile or two and came to
a clearing. The kind of scene you see on postcards. It was a dead-end, enclosed by
a wall of rock and dense jungle. Totally private. A waterfall spilled off the top of the
rock embankment into a pool about twenty feet below. The pool flows back into the
river. I managed to catch some fish so we decided to camp there and eat broiled
fish. The rest of the story is X rated, so I’ll stop there to avoid embarrassing my
lovely wife.”
Sally laughed. “I don’t know what’s so X rated about spending the night slapping
mosquitoes and watching out for snakes.”
Michelle looked at Jorge. “Honey, you mentioned you guys were thinking about
taking a trip together. Sounds like the kind of vacation you’d enjoy for a few days.”
A prolonged silence passed. David had forgotten about Mrs. Thompson. By way of
Michelle’s casual suggestion, his imagination traveled to the jungles of Mexico,
where he pictured the five of them alone under a starlit sky for a few days. He, like
the others, was thinking about four or five uninterrupted days in a remote paradise,
long nights running into dawn without the need for quick showers and a weary drive
home. Five days of like-minded male harmony and falling asleep side-by-side under
the stars, awaking to a new day to begin it all again.
“James,” said Shasha, “you said something about taking a trip with the guys before it
gets cold. You haven’t been snorkeling in a long time.”
Jorge turned to Jake. “The village is twenty miles inland?”
“About that. It’s tiny. A few cobblestone streets and a few dozen adobe buildings
right next to the river. We saw some Mexican women washing clothes on the
riverbank. One small hotel. No air-conditioning or television. It’s like stepping back
in time. Just simple people living in poverty and quite content with their lives.”
Linda looked at David. “What do you think, honey? No Hiltons or Marriotts.”
A few days earlier he had mentioned Jorge talked about the men taking a vacation
together, and still couldn’t believe her enthusiasm. He had never taken a vacation
without her. “Sounds like a good idea to me,” he said with mock bluster. “We men
need to get back to our natural primitive surroundings from time to time.”
Linda nodded with a contained grin, then glanced at the women with a colluding
wink. “Just like we girls need to get back to our natural primitive surroundings—a
few days of shopping in New York.”
“I’ll take a piece of that,” Sally added.
♦ ♦ ♦
Tim was the last to arrive the following Thursday night. After the ordeal with the
blackmailer the week before, all five were ready for a long evening together. David
opened the door for Tim, and then watched him walk toward the bed, wondering
what was in the small brown paper bag in his hand.
“What’s in the sack?”
Tim pulled out a new tube of jell and held it up before he placed it on the night table.
Then he held up a rubber bulb slightly larger than a baseball.
“What’s that?”
“An enema,” Tim said matter-of-factly. “Didn’t feel comfortable using it at home.”
David glanced at the others who were seated around the table. He joined them
when Tim went into the bathroom. “Are we supposed to be doing that?” he asked,
scratching his jaw.
There was a bit of awkward shuffling around the table.
“I mean, what do I know?” David looked at James. “Do you do it?”
James shrugged and shook his head.
David looked at Jake. “Do you?”
“I’m like you. Didn’t know we were supposed to.”
Jorge leaned over the table and clasped his hands together. “It’s not manda-tory.
He must have felt like he needed it tonight.”
“Yeah,” said Jake. “You know Tim. He thinks of things.”
“Maybe that’s it,” said James. “I bet he’s planned something. It’s making me feel a
little self-conscious though.”
A few minutes later they heard a flush and then Tim called out for David. David
glanced at the others and came to his feet. He stopped at the bathroom door and
sighed. Stepping inside, a flutter of butterflies filled his stomach. Tim was leaning
over the bathtub, filling it with water. His clothes were folded on the counter.
“I talked to Rosemary about the Mexico trip,” he said.
David stopped in the middle of the room. The rubber bulb was lying on the floor next
to the commode.
Tim saw what he was looking at and smiled. “This is one of those times I felt better
doing that before we get started,” he explained. “You’re welcome to use it if you
want.”
“Uh ... no, I’m fine.”
Tim stepped into the water and went down on his knees. “She’s okay with it.”
“With what?”
“The Mexico trip. She’s glad I have a chance to do something like that.”
“Good.”
“I feel a little guilty she has to stay home.”
“She can’t go to New York with the others?”
Tim was splashing water between his legs. “I have a bidet at the house for this.”
David sat down on the side of the tub. “Is it the money?”
“No. She can’t leave Brett that long. She could, with her mother, but she won’t.”
“You’d tell me if it was money.”
“It’s not the money.”
Tim splashed water in his face and stood up and reached for a towel.
“You finished with this water?”
“Yeah.”
David pulled the stopper. “Linda will be disappointed. She wants to get to know
Rosemary better.”
“There’ll be plenty of opportunities for that.”
Tim threw the towel over his shoulder, spread his legs and took aim at the drain. “I
usually pull it back like this before I pee.” He said, pulling the foreskin back over the
glans. “But I like the way it feels when I don’t.” He pushed the foreskin back to its
natural state.
David’s gaze dropped. An erratic stream gushed through the lithe overhang of
foreskin. He felt overwhelmed by a rush of tingling sensations, tantalized by the
unaltered state of what seemed to him a perfectly enchanting bit of male design. He
watched it flex out the final drops.
Tim shook it off and stepped out of the tub. David took the towel and dried his back
and shoulders.
“I never get tired of looking at you.”
Tim smiled, reached up and stoked David’s lips with his thumb. They lingered a
moment longer, contemplating the joy of their friendship. Tim’s voice fell to a near
whisper. “I think we’re ready to go back out.”
When they entered the dimly lit room, Tim stopped briefly to finish blotting himself
with the towel. Flinging it aside, he took a few steps and pulled back the bedding.
David stood watching, wondering what the young man had in mind.
Tim stepped closer to James and extended his hand. “I thought about you all day,”
he said as James, a little surprised, came to his feet. Tim looked at the others.
“Forgive my haste, gentlemen. Thinking about how beautiful he is all day has given
me a sense of urgency.”
Moments later a potent mass of male flesh and muscle stood nude near the bed.
From behind, Tim delivered a prelude to what was to come. The silky texture of
black skin yielded and knees weakened as his hands slowly migrated from
shoulders to hips. He leaned close to James’s neck and caressed the soft skin with
his breath.
“Ready for something a little different tonight?” he whispered
James looked at him and then, as directed, reclined on the bed. Tim crawled over
him and straddled his chest, facing away from him. He leaned forward and drew his
fingertips over tight curls of hair on muscular legs. The caress had a calming affect.
James found himself relaxed on the cool sheet, drifting on the magic of Tim’s
fingers. Then Tim’s hand closed on his testicles. Confined all day, they were warm
and malleable and damp. Gently at first, a caressing massage, then a firmer grip.
He pulled them upward, stretching the pliant skin to where they sat like two vulnerable
eggs atop his fist.
The sensation brought James to a state of sensual euphoria, alive and squirming in
submission to what might come next. A light sweat filmed his body and his chest
heaved with reflexive gasps, the stretching pronounced, the intimate discomfort
commingled with unbearable pleasure. Then, from beyond his wildest dreams, he
felt a mischievous slap. His body shuddered. Every muscle tensed. Another slap,
and another. Every thought his mind produced was lost in quick flashes of pain that
just as quickly turned into indescribable waves of pleasure. On it went, with little
mercy and no hint of relief, these guarded but purposeful slaps. He grasped fistfuls
of the sheet, his powerful body writhing under Tim’s weight and twisting in the throes
of erotic torment. Paced with brief reprieves of gentle massage and caress, the
sensual torture continued until James found himself on the verge of begging.
Looking on from soft leather chairs, three keenly aware men sat in silent
amazement. Legs came together as they pondered the sensations inflicted on
James, breathing air filled with groans and the smell of sweat, each wondering who
would be next.
James lifted his head, certain he could take no more. “Tim ... please ...”
The torment abruptly stopped.
Tim reached for the lubricant and squeezed out a small drop. James felt his sore
testicles retract. He swallowed and his head dropped and he closed his eyes to
wait. He felt Tim’s weight rise and he lifted his head once more and saw white hips
sinking down, and next an engulfing warmth, followed by a slow steady rhythm. The
pleasure increased by degrees, two men coupled in passion, one deeply impaled
and grinding away upon the pubic mound of the other. James’s thighs tightened and
he gripped Tim’s hips as a storm of spasms melted through him, and then he felt the
warm sensation of leaving his semen inside another man. Now physically and
emotionally spent, his eyes opened on a blond lover with weary disbelief.
James rolled in exhaustion to the edge of the bed and Tim looked at Jake. One by
one they surrendered. They moaned and winced and found themselves aching for
more. And it came, and kept coming until their minds were spinning in some
unnamed universe, aware of nothing but pleasure and pain. Finally, four men lie
sprawled on the bed, every muscle, every fiber useless. Secluded within the four
walls of their private world, a blissful silence filled the room. David finally sat up and
his eyes settled on Tim.
“My God, Tim.”
Tim’s familiar knowing smile crossed his lips. “You okay?”
David reached down between his legs. “Never better.”
Tim glanced at the others, recovering as they were from an experience not one of
them ever imagined. “Sex is passion, pain and pleasure. Tonight I focused on pain,
which enhanced the other two elements.”
“It hurt, but it didn’t really hurt,” said Jorge. “There’s a technique, isn’t there?”
“It’s done with care,” Tim replied. “Got the idea from that dominatrix I told you about.”
“You give so much,” James said. “It doesn’t seem we ever give as much in return.”
“Not true.” Tim turned to look at James. “Seeing you guys aroused and knowing I’m
the cause gives me a great deal of pleasure.” He paused for a moment, then added:
“I’m glad you guys like my fantasies. Guess my imagination goes into high gear on
Thursday nights.”
“High gear!” said David. “I felt like a worm squirming on a hot sidewalk.”
“It’s amazing how different men and women are sexually,” Jake said. “There’s been
a few times Sally wanted to torture my balls—just not for the same reason.”
David laughed. “I can picture Sally torturing your balls.”
“I can’t imagine Shasha doing it,” said James. “Men are different all right.”
“Different—yes; better—no,” said Tim.
“Sometimes I wonder,” said Jake.
“Think about it,” said Tim. “Say you face spending the rest of your life in prison. The
jailer allows you to choose a cellmate, a man or a woman. You’d choose the
woman. You wouldn’t give up the kind of unconditional love only a woman can give.”
All five fell silent in thought. David finally released a breath and said: “He’s right. I'd
want the woman I’m married to now.”
“I agree,” James said. “I lived a long time without being intimate with a man. It’d be
tough to live without Shasha.”
Tim sat up and folded his arms around his knees. “We’d all choose the woman. We’
d think about her soft body. The sensation of seeing her open her legs. How it feels
to rest your head on her breasts. What we do together is different, that’s true. But
you don’t simply have sex with the woman you love—it’s also an expression of your
feelings for her. It doesn’t matter it’s all happening within the parameters of her
sensibilities. That only endears you more.”
“It’s not just sex with us, either,” Jorge added. “That’s not the main reason we spend
Thursday nights together every week. We do it because we’re drawn to men like
ourselves, a thing in itself. I’d want to be here with you guys even if we weren’t having
sex.”
“The main difference is obvious,” said James. “As men we understand male desire.
Like tonight. Most women would find what Tim did unthinkable. How many women
know what our balls can endure or the sensations we get from them? Two men can
explore without inhibition. They can enjoy their bodies in ways most women would
find distasteful. It’s different because there’s no feminine protocol to fret over.”
Tim grinned, reminded of an occasion in his past. “There’re exceptions to that
feminine protocol you’re talking about,” he said. “Before I met Rosemary, I came
across a girl that didn’t fit the mold. A cashier at a supermarket. We got to talking
and I ended up at her place. It was all hands, a tongue, a mouth, and me—one worn
out son-of-a-bitch. Not an inhibited bone in her body. All five of us wouldn’t have
been enough.”
“You stumbled on a world of pussy.”
“Maybe she’s the one you’d want to be locked in that cell with.”
“That’s funny,” said Jorge. “Did he marry her? …No. As for me, I’d choose my wife;
but since I’m not locked in a cell, I also choose to be with all of you. I like the way you
guys look at me.”
“I like looking at you,” said David, “even if it makes me a little jealous.”
“That’s something else,” said Tim. “We get turned on looking at another man’s
anus. I doubt many women do.”
“Especially yours, Tim,” James put in.
“Or yours. It’s like looking into an inkwell.”
David stood and walked to the bureau. He took from his zippered bag a deck of
cards and the change. “A gay man would choose the male lover,” he said, taking a
place at the table.
“Naturally,” said Tim. “He’s the same as a straight guy—attracted to one gender.
There’s nothing for him to decide. We identify with him only because he’s attracted
to men.”
Jorge started for the table. “We’re enigmas to both gay and straight men. No
wonder I feel so confused.”
James sat up on the edge of the bed. “That’s good. Even gay men think we’re
weird.”
“Yeah, we’re oddities,” said Jake. “Straight men are the lucky ones. No
complications. No hang-ups.”
“Not all of ‘um. Not according to some of the women I know,” said James. “You hear
complaints all the time. Wham, bam, thank-you ma’am. They’re called minutemen
and jerks.”
“Get me a beer, honey,” Jake called out mockingly.
“Yeah. That’s the guy. He’s so proud of his dick, he thinks all he has to do to make a
woman happy is stick it in there and pump it a few times.”
Jorge laughed, saying: “Funny thing about straight guys, I think most of them are
hiding a few secrets. They’re curious about other men, but most would fight to the
death before admitting it. Bet we’d be surprised how many stick something long and
round up their ass when their wives are out shopping.”
They had gathered around the table and were watching David convert large bills to
ones and fives. Jake shuffled the cards. Tim called room service for beer. Three
hands later, when the knock came on the door, he slipped on his jeans and eased
discreetly into the hallway to pay for it. Upon his return, he handed everyone a
Samuel Adams.
“So we’re gonna spent five days in Mexico,” said David. A smile settled on his lips.
“I checked my calendar,” said James. “I can clear the first week in September.”
“Fine with me,” said Jorge. “I can go anytime.”
“Me, too,” said Jake.
David looked at Tim.
“I talked to my foreman. Said he could handle it for a week. First week in
September it is.”
“That leaves only ten days to agonize over it,” said David, spreading a new hand.
Jorge looked at Jake. “Can we buy provisions in that village?”
“Only if you want tamales and beer. We’ll buy supplies in Cancun and rent a couple
of Jeeps. It’s a tedious drive, so we’ll get enough supplies to last the duration. The
Jeeps will get within a mile of the clearing. We’ll have to pack our stuff in from there.”
“How the hell did you get Sally to go along with all of that?” James asked.
Jake laughed. “She didn’t start bitching until we were halfway through the trail.
Couldn’t stop worrying about snakes. The thing about Sally, she’s game for just
about anything, once.”
“Were mosquitoes a problem?” asked Jorge.
“Not during the day. I used a fogger at night that was effective.”
“Let’s avoid that stuff you spray on your skin,” Tim suggested.
The others, staring at their cards, smiled.
“I still can’t believe we’ll have five whole days and nights in the woods together,” said
David.
“Think jungle,” said Jake. “It’s not like the woods we have up here.”
They sat quietly for a moment, and then finished out the hand. Tim picked up the
cards to deal the next round.
“What does the river look like?” David asked.
“Fast water. Crystal clear. Maybe twenty feet across. The pond makes a perfect
swimming hole.”
“So the plan is sleeping bags on the ground and dried food we can pack in,” said
Jorge.
“That’s about it.”
“Then we’ll need sleeping bags, back packs and fishing gear.”
Tim looked up from his cards. “How much does that stuff cost?” He noticed the
others were looking at him. “I never bought camping stuff before.”
“I thought someone could use Michelle’s gear,” said Jorge. “Guess you could, Tim.”
Tim looked relieved.
David glanced at Jorge, then back at his cards, wondering where Michelle used
camping gear in Manhattan.
Later, when Tim went to the bathroom, David asked: “Jorge, Michelle has her own
camping equipment?”
“Not yet,” he said. “I plan to buy hers when I pick up mine.”
“That’s what I thought.” David looked over his shoulder toward the bathroom. “He's
sure excited about this trip.”
“What did you and Tim do in there earlier?” James asked.
David tilted his head and brushed back his hair. “He never ceases to amaze me.
He was cleaning up after the enema. Then he showed me what it’s like to pee
through a foreskin. It’s fascinating how comfortable he is with his own body. Wish
my mind worked that way.”
drinking beer in the heat of the afternoon. Linda had emptied six bags of ice to cool
down the water. The harsh sun had moved further into the western sky, now blocked
by the sprawling limbs of a live oak. Shade had settled over the tub. A steady
fanfare of cicadas hummed in the sultry air, intermixed with the voice of Ray Charles
from the outdoor speakers. The group, jovial and feeling mellow, never dreamed
Mrs. Thompson from next door would suddenly appear on the scene.
Sally noticed her first. She had just stepped out of the tub to get another round of
beer, her ample curves wet and glistening with afternoon sun. She gasped. Four
bottles dangled from between her fingers. Dripping wet, she stood staring at a
woman she didn’t know not ten feet away.
Mrs. Thompson had emerged from the high garden near a stand of mature Texas
sage. She had evidently come through the gate at the front of the house, then
followed the footpath through the woods-like garden that separated the two houses.
By the time Sally took hold of her senses and turned toward the others, they too were
staring at the woman.
Linda’s disbelieving gaze was fixed on the horrified neighbor. David lowered his
head to rub his pained eyes. The easy camaraderie had turned into consternation.
Mrs. Thompson made a feeble attempt to explain. “Uh ... no one answered the
doorbell. I uh ... the gate was open ... I ...” She turned abruptly and disappeared
back into the shadowy foliage.
They sat quietly for a moment, somewhat stunned, stealing glances at one another.
Then Linda blurted: “David, I had no idea that gate was unlocked! So don’t blame
me.”
He looked up and glared at his wife, eyes narrow with incredulous disbelief. Not that
Mrs. Thompson was a stuffy woman—she was, but she was also a good Christian
who had now seen him, his wife and their nude friends drinking beer in the hot tub.
He recalled the numerous times Mrs. Thompson had invited them to church.
“You do realize she’ll tell the entire neighborhood about what goes on at the Westin
residence?”
“That could be a problem,” said Sally, stepping back into the water. “No room for
another soul in this tub.”
Shasha nearly choked on a mouthful of beer.
David looked at her. “Fine! When you all get here next Saturday and see a big red
letter ‘A’ painted on our front door, at least you’ll know why.”
Linda spoke calmly. “I’ll make sure the gate is locked by then.”
“It’s not really fair,” said Michelle. “That’s twice David and Linda have been
embarrassed by hosting naked Saturday. First their son, now their neighbors.”
“David,” said Jorge, “you’ve sacrificed your social standing for our benefit. We all
owe you and Linda a debt of gratitude.”
“That’s okay,” David said sardonically. “I can always wear a paper bag over my
head when I leave the house.”
Then James: “Maybe we should rotate houses. Even out the ruined reputations a
little.”
“I personally don’t care what that woman thinks,” said Linda. “She’s a little too holier-
than-thou for me. Maybe she’ll quit popping over unannounced.”
“Maybe?” David scoffed.
After a momentary silence, Sally asked: “So what were we talking about before Mrs.
Thompson’s visit?”
“Jake was telling us about your last trip to the Mexican coast.”
“Anyway,” Jake said, “now that that’s over. The place I’m talking about is just south of
Cancun. We’ve been down there three times. It’s paradise. After we spent a day
snorkeling we had a little adventure on our last trip down.”
“It was an adventure all right. First time I slept outside since I was a little girl.
Definitely the last. I didn’t realize how active your imagination gets during the night in
the middle of nowhere. Two nights in the jungle was enough for this girl.”
“She’s right. It’s a true jungle. We heard about a little village about twenty miles
inland and decided to do a little sightseeing. One road in, the same road out. The
word primitive comes to mind. It follows a river all the way to the village and ends a
couple of miles further inland. From there we hiked another mile or two and came to
a clearing. The kind of scene you see on postcards. It was a dead-end, enclosed by
a wall of rock and dense jungle. Totally private. A waterfall spilled off the top of the
rock embankment into a pool about twenty feet below. The pool flows back into the
river. I managed to catch some fish so we decided to camp there and eat broiled
fish. The rest of the story is X rated, so I’ll stop there to avoid embarrassing my
lovely wife.”
Sally laughed. “I don’t know what’s so X rated about spending the night slapping
mosquitoes and watching out for snakes.”
Michelle looked at Jorge. “Honey, you mentioned you guys were thinking about
taking a trip together. Sounds like the kind of vacation you’d enjoy for a few days.”
A prolonged silence passed. David had forgotten about Mrs. Thompson. By way of
Michelle’s casual suggestion, his imagination traveled to the jungles of Mexico,
where he pictured the five of them alone under a starlit sky for a few days. He, like
the others, was thinking about four or five uninterrupted days in a remote paradise,
long nights running into dawn without the need for quick showers and a weary drive
home. Five days of like-minded male harmony and falling asleep side-by-side under
the stars, awaking to a new day to begin it all again.
“James,” said Shasha, “you said something about taking a trip with the guys before it
gets cold. You haven’t been snorkeling in a long time.”
Jorge turned to Jake. “The village is twenty miles inland?”
“About that. It’s tiny. A few cobblestone streets and a few dozen adobe buildings
right next to the river. We saw some Mexican women washing clothes on the
riverbank. One small hotel. No air-conditioning or television. It’s like stepping back
in time. Just simple people living in poverty and quite content with their lives.”
Linda looked at David. “What do you think, honey? No Hiltons or Marriotts.”
A few days earlier he had mentioned Jorge talked about the men taking a vacation
together, and still couldn’t believe her enthusiasm. He had never taken a vacation
without her. “Sounds like a good idea to me,” he said with mock bluster. “We men
need to get back to our natural primitive surroundings from time to time.”
Linda nodded with a contained grin, then glanced at the women with a colluding
wink. “Just like we girls need to get back to our natural primitive surroundings—a
few days of shopping in New York.”
“I’ll take a piece of that,” Sally added.
♦ ♦ ♦
Tim was the last to arrive the following Thursday night. After the ordeal with the
blackmailer the week before, all five were ready for a long evening together. David
opened the door for Tim, and then watched him walk toward the bed, wondering
what was in the small brown paper bag in his hand.
“What’s in the sack?”
Tim pulled out a new tube of jell and held it up before he placed it on the night table.
Then he held up a rubber bulb slightly larger than a baseball.
“What’s that?”
“An enema,” Tim said matter-of-factly. “Didn’t feel comfortable using it at home.”
David glanced at the others who were seated around the table. He joined them
when Tim went into the bathroom. “Are we supposed to be doing that?” he asked,
scratching his jaw.
There was a bit of awkward shuffling around the table.
“I mean, what do I know?” David looked at James. “Do you do it?”
James shrugged and shook his head.
David looked at Jake. “Do you?”
“I’m like you. Didn’t know we were supposed to.”
Jorge leaned over the table and clasped his hands together. “It’s not manda-tory.
He must have felt like he needed it tonight.”
“Yeah,” said Jake. “You know Tim. He thinks of things.”
“Maybe that’s it,” said James. “I bet he’s planned something. It’s making me feel a
little self-conscious though.”
A few minutes later they heard a flush and then Tim called out for David. David
glanced at the others and came to his feet. He stopped at the bathroom door and
sighed. Stepping inside, a flutter of butterflies filled his stomach. Tim was leaning
over the bathtub, filling it with water. His clothes were folded on the counter.
“I talked to Rosemary about the Mexico trip,” he said.
David stopped in the middle of the room. The rubber bulb was lying on the floor next
to the commode.
Tim saw what he was looking at and smiled. “This is one of those times I felt better
doing that before we get started,” he explained. “You’re welcome to use it if you
want.”
“Uh ... no, I’m fine.”
Tim stepped into the water and went down on his knees. “She’s okay with it.”
“With what?”
“The Mexico trip. She’s glad I have a chance to do something like that.”
“Good.”
“I feel a little guilty she has to stay home.”
“She can’t go to New York with the others?”
Tim was splashing water between his legs. “I have a bidet at the house for this.”
David sat down on the side of the tub. “Is it the money?”
“No. She can’t leave Brett that long. She could, with her mother, but she won’t.”
“You’d tell me if it was money.”
“It’s not the money.”
Tim splashed water in his face and stood up and reached for a towel.
“You finished with this water?”
“Yeah.”
David pulled the stopper. “Linda will be disappointed. She wants to get to know
Rosemary better.”
“There’ll be plenty of opportunities for that.”
Tim threw the towel over his shoulder, spread his legs and took aim at the drain. “I
usually pull it back like this before I pee.” He said, pulling the foreskin back over the
glans. “But I like the way it feels when I don’t.” He pushed the foreskin back to its
natural state.
David’s gaze dropped. An erratic stream gushed through the lithe overhang of
foreskin. He felt overwhelmed by a rush of tingling sensations, tantalized by the
unaltered state of what seemed to him a perfectly enchanting bit of male design. He
watched it flex out the final drops.
Tim shook it off and stepped out of the tub. David took the towel and dried his back
and shoulders.
“I never get tired of looking at you.”
Tim smiled, reached up and stoked David’s lips with his thumb. They lingered a
moment longer, contemplating the joy of their friendship. Tim’s voice fell to a near
whisper. “I think we’re ready to go back out.”
When they entered the dimly lit room, Tim stopped briefly to finish blotting himself
with the towel. Flinging it aside, he took a few steps and pulled back the bedding.
David stood watching, wondering what the young man had in mind.
Tim stepped closer to James and extended his hand. “I thought about you all day,”
he said as James, a little surprised, came to his feet. Tim looked at the others.
“Forgive my haste, gentlemen. Thinking about how beautiful he is all day has given
me a sense of urgency.”
Moments later a potent mass of male flesh and muscle stood nude near the bed.
From behind, Tim delivered a prelude to what was to come. The silky texture of
black skin yielded and knees weakened as his hands slowly migrated from
shoulders to hips. He leaned close to James’s neck and caressed the soft skin with
his breath.
“Ready for something a little different tonight?” he whispered
James looked at him and then, as directed, reclined on the bed. Tim crawled over
him and straddled his chest, facing away from him. He leaned forward and drew his
fingertips over tight curls of hair on muscular legs. The caress had a calming affect.
James found himself relaxed on the cool sheet, drifting on the magic of Tim’s
fingers. Then Tim’s hand closed on his testicles. Confined all day, they were warm
and malleable and damp. Gently at first, a caressing massage, then a firmer grip.
He pulled them upward, stretching the pliant skin to where they sat like two vulnerable
eggs atop his fist.
The sensation brought James to a state of sensual euphoria, alive and squirming in
submission to what might come next. A light sweat filmed his body and his chest
heaved with reflexive gasps, the stretching pronounced, the intimate discomfort
commingled with unbearable pleasure. Then, from beyond his wildest dreams, he
felt a mischievous slap. His body shuddered. Every muscle tensed. Another slap,
and another. Every thought his mind produced was lost in quick flashes of pain that
just as quickly turned into indescribable waves of pleasure. On it went, with little
mercy and no hint of relief, these guarded but purposeful slaps. He grasped fistfuls
of the sheet, his powerful body writhing under Tim’s weight and twisting in the throes
of erotic torment. Paced with brief reprieves of gentle massage and caress, the
sensual torture continued until James found himself on the verge of begging.
Looking on from soft leather chairs, three keenly aware men sat in silent
amazement. Legs came together as they pondered the sensations inflicted on
James, breathing air filled with groans and the smell of sweat, each wondering who
would be next.
James lifted his head, certain he could take no more. “Tim ... please ...”
The torment abruptly stopped.
Tim reached for the lubricant and squeezed out a small drop. James felt his sore
testicles retract. He swallowed and his head dropped and he closed his eyes to
wait. He felt Tim’s weight rise and he lifted his head once more and saw white hips
sinking down, and next an engulfing warmth, followed by a slow steady rhythm. The
pleasure increased by degrees, two men coupled in passion, one deeply impaled
and grinding away upon the pubic mound of the other. James’s thighs tightened and
he gripped Tim’s hips as a storm of spasms melted through him, and then he felt the
warm sensation of leaving his semen inside another man. Now physically and
emotionally spent, his eyes opened on a blond lover with weary disbelief.
James rolled in exhaustion to the edge of the bed and Tim looked at Jake. One by
one they surrendered. They moaned and winced and found themselves aching for
more. And it came, and kept coming until their minds were spinning in some
unnamed universe, aware of nothing but pleasure and pain. Finally, four men lie
sprawled on the bed, every muscle, every fiber useless. Secluded within the four
walls of their private world, a blissful silence filled the room. David finally sat up and
his eyes settled on Tim.
“My God, Tim.”
Tim’s familiar knowing smile crossed his lips. “You okay?”
David reached down between his legs. “Never better.”
Tim glanced at the others, recovering as they were from an experience not one of
them ever imagined. “Sex is passion, pain and pleasure. Tonight I focused on pain,
which enhanced the other two elements.”
“It hurt, but it didn’t really hurt,” said Jorge. “There’s a technique, isn’t there?”
“It’s done with care,” Tim replied. “Got the idea from that dominatrix I told you about.”
“You give so much,” James said. “It doesn’t seem we ever give as much in return.”
“Not true.” Tim turned to look at James. “Seeing you guys aroused and knowing I’m
the cause gives me a great deal of pleasure.” He paused for a moment, then added:
“I’m glad you guys like my fantasies. Guess my imagination goes into high gear on
Thursday nights.”
“High gear!” said David. “I felt like a worm squirming on a hot sidewalk.”
“It’s amazing how different men and women are sexually,” Jake said. “There’s been
a few times Sally wanted to torture my balls—just not for the same reason.”
David laughed. “I can picture Sally torturing your balls.”
“I can’t imagine Shasha doing it,” said James. “Men are different all right.”
“Different—yes; better—no,” said Tim.
“Sometimes I wonder,” said Jake.
“Think about it,” said Tim. “Say you face spending the rest of your life in prison. The
jailer allows you to choose a cellmate, a man or a woman. You’d choose the
woman. You wouldn’t give up the kind of unconditional love only a woman can give.”
All five fell silent in thought. David finally released a breath and said: “He’s right. I'd
want the woman I’m married to now.”
“I agree,” James said. “I lived a long time without being intimate with a man. It’d be
tough to live without Shasha.”
Tim sat up and folded his arms around his knees. “We’d all choose the woman. We’
d think about her soft body. The sensation of seeing her open her legs. How it feels
to rest your head on her breasts. What we do together is different, that’s true. But
you don’t simply have sex with the woman you love—it’s also an expression of your
feelings for her. It doesn’t matter it’s all happening within the parameters of her
sensibilities. That only endears you more.”
“It’s not just sex with us, either,” Jorge added. “That’s not the main reason we spend
Thursday nights together every week. We do it because we’re drawn to men like
ourselves, a thing in itself. I’d want to be here with you guys even if we weren’t having
sex.”
“The main difference is obvious,” said James. “As men we understand male desire.
Like tonight. Most women would find what Tim did unthinkable. How many women
know what our balls can endure or the sensations we get from them? Two men can
explore without inhibition. They can enjoy their bodies in ways most women would
find distasteful. It’s different because there’s no feminine protocol to fret over.”
Tim grinned, reminded of an occasion in his past. “There’re exceptions to that
feminine protocol you’re talking about,” he said. “Before I met Rosemary, I came
across a girl that didn’t fit the mold. A cashier at a supermarket. We got to talking
and I ended up at her place. It was all hands, a tongue, a mouth, and me—one worn
out son-of-a-bitch. Not an inhibited bone in her body. All five of us wouldn’t have
been enough.”
“You stumbled on a world of pussy.”
“Maybe she’s the one you’d want to be locked in that cell with.”
“That’s funny,” said Jorge. “Did he marry her? …No. As for me, I’d choose my wife;
but since I’m not locked in a cell, I also choose to be with all of you. I like the way you
guys look at me.”
“I like looking at you,” said David, “even if it makes me a little jealous.”
“That’s something else,” said Tim. “We get turned on looking at another man’s
anus. I doubt many women do.”
“Especially yours, Tim,” James put in.
“Or yours. It’s like looking into an inkwell.”
David stood and walked to the bureau. He took from his zippered bag a deck of
cards and the change. “A gay man would choose the male lover,” he said, taking a
place at the table.
“Naturally,” said Tim. “He’s the same as a straight guy—attracted to one gender.
There’s nothing for him to decide. We identify with him only because he’s attracted
to men.”
Jorge started for the table. “We’re enigmas to both gay and straight men. No
wonder I feel so confused.”
James sat up on the edge of the bed. “That’s good. Even gay men think we’re
weird.”
“Yeah, we’re oddities,” said Jake. “Straight men are the lucky ones. No
complications. No hang-ups.”
“Not all of ‘um. Not according to some of the women I know,” said James. “You hear
complaints all the time. Wham, bam, thank-you ma’am. They’re called minutemen
and jerks.”
“Get me a beer, honey,” Jake called out mockingly.
“Yeah. That’s the guy. He’s so proud of his dick, he thinks all he has to do to make a
woman happy is stick it in there and pump it a few times.”
Jorge laughed, saying: “Funny thing about straight guys, I think most of them are
hiding a few secrets. They’re curious about other men, but most would fight to the
death before admitting it. Bet we’d be surprised how many stick something long and
round up their ass when their wives are out shopping.”
They had gathered around the table and were watching David convert large bills to
ones and fives. Jake shuffled the cards. Tim called room service for beer. Three
hands later, when the knock came on the door, he slipped on his jeans and eased
discreetly into the hallway to pay for it. Upon his return, he handed everyone a
Samuel Adams.
“So we’re gonna spent five days in Mexico,” said David. A smile settled on his lips.
“I checked my calendar,” said James. “I can clear the first week in September.”
“Fine with me,” said Jorge. “I can go anytime.”
“Me, too,” said Jake.
David looked at Tim.
“I talked to my foreman. Said he could handle it for a week. First week in
September it is.”
“That leaves only ten days to agonize over it,” said David, spreading a new hand.
Jorge looked at Jake. “Can we buy provisions in that village?”
“Only if you want tamales and beer. We’ll buy supplies in Cancun and rent a couple
of Jeeps. It’s a tedious drive, so we’ll get enough supplies to last the duration. The
Jeeps will get within a mile of the clearing. We’ll have to pack our stuff in from there.”
“How the hell did you get Sally to go along with all of that?” James asked.
Jake laughed. “She didn’t start bitching until we were halfway through the trail.
Couldn’t stop worrying about snakes. The thing about Sally, she’s game for just
about anything, once.”
“Were mosquitoes a problem?” asked Jorge.
“Not during the day. I used a fogger at night that was effective.”
“Let’s avoid that stuff you spray on your skin,” Tim suggested.
The others, staring at their cards, smiled.
“I still can’t believe we’ll have five whole days and nights in the woods together,” said
David.
“Think jungle,” said Jake. “It’s not like the woods we have up here.”
They sat quietly for a moment, and then finished out the hand. Tim picked up the
cards to deal the next round.
“What does the river look like?” David asked.
“Fast water. Crystal clear. Maybe twenty feet across. The pond makes a perfect
swimming hole.”
“So the plan is sleeping bags on the ground and dried food we can pack in,” said
Jorge.
“That’s about it.”
“Then we’ll need sleeping bags, back packs and fishing gear.”
Tim looked up from his cards. “How much does that stuff cost?” He noticed the
others were looking at him. “I never bought camping stuff before.”
“I thought someone could use Michelle’s gear,” said Jorge. “Guess you could, Tim.”
Tim looked relieved.
David glanced at Jorge, then back at his cards, wondering where Michelle used
camping gear in Manhattan.
Later, when Tim went to the bathroom, David asked: “Jorge, Michelle has her own
camping equipment?”
“Not yet,” he said. “I plan to buy hers when I pick up mine.”
“That’s what I thought.” David looked over his shoulder toward the bathroom. “He's
sure excited about this trip.”
“What did you and Tim do in there earlier?” James asked.
David tilted his head and brushed back his hair. “He never ceases to amaze me.
He was cleaning up after the enema. Then he showed me what it’s like to pee
through a foreskin. It’s fascinating how comfortable he is with his own body. Wish
my mind worked that way.”
