by J. M. Snyder
As they shared a deep kiss, Cam began a thrusting rhythm.
“Oh, yes, baby, fuck me. I need you to fuck me,” Emory moaned.
Desire for Emory, spurred on by the thrill of having sex where they could possibly be observed, soon brought Cam to an incredible fourth climax. Emory rose on his knees. Cam took Emory into his mouth and Emory came for a third time.
They lay side by side on the seat. The pontoon gently rocked in the waves made by the power boats on the lake.
For an hour or more they alternately dozed and talked. Cam was having a hard time not feeling strongly for this special man. It was not only the sex. As they lay together, Cam realized he liked Emory not only for his beautiful body, but for who Emory was as a person. He took Emory’s hand in his. He felt Emory’s wedding ring. Simultaneously opposing feelings of relief and regret went through his mind. The ring protected Cam from possible hurt, but now it seemed to also prevent him from finding potential happiness.
Emory kissed the top of Cam’s head. “Time to go in. How about I take you to dinner at our—uh, my favorite restaurant. They have the best prime rib in town, and scallops to die for. And for better or worse it’s only a mile down the road. Too easy to get there when I’m hungry and don’t feel like fixing anything, much to my waistline’s regret.”
Shaking off the confused and conflicting emotions, Cam said, “I’d like that, but you have to let me pay for dinner. You’ve done so much for me already. This weekend would have been a bust with all this heat, except for your kindness.”
Emory started to argue, but gave in when Cam insisted. They put on their swim trunks and pulled up the anchor. They stood side by side as Emory guided the pontoon back toward his dock.
“Going to be hot as hell again tonight. You and Mr. Magee would be more comfortable at my place.”
Emory smiled and put his arm around Cam’s waist. “Why don’t you bring your things over when you get your clothes to change for dinner? That okay with you? I just wouldn’t sleep well knowing you two were next door, roasting.”
Cam nodded. “Okay,” he said with a smile. “Sounds like another plan.”
He continued to smile as he watched the trees while the pontoon glided along the shore. He was well aware that the more time he spent with Emory, the greater the emotional turmoil when it came time to leave. But he would deal with that when he got home. He was having too good a time to let it get to him at the moment.
* * * *
That evening Cam sat across from Emory in the restaurant Emory had touted. It was crowded, and a pleasant cacophony of voices and laughter surrounded them. Both men had ordered the surf and turf dinner, choosing the prime rib and scallops option. They were enjoying a pre-dinner drink with their soup and salad.
Cam smiled at Emory as he talked. Light from a candle on the table played on Emory’s handsome face. Cam was only half listening to what Emory was saying. Cam was tuned in to the sound of his voice, his face, and the memory of the body now concealed under a blue and white short-sleeve shirt. Truth be told, Cam had a hard-on hidden beneath the tablecloth.
Cam was thoroughly enjoying the experience—the rustic décor, the good food, and Emory’s company, spurred on by the cocktail he had consumed, made for a feeling of total relaxation and happiness. The mood continued through dinner. Cam couldn’t remember ever having such a delicious meal, or feeling this contented in the company of a man.
As they were finishing the last of their dinner, a man and woman approached their table.
“Emory,” the man said.
Emory broke into a broad smile and jumped to his feet. He shook hands with the man then embraced the woman.
“It’s so good to see you two again. It’s been too long!” Emory turned to Cam, who rose. “Emma, Darnell, this is Cameron Mitchell. He’s staying in your old cabin for the weekend—well actually he’s staying with me as the A/C isn’t working over there, and I didn’t want him to melt in this heat.”
“I guess the Graftons haven’t fixed that old unit yet. We didn’t need it often, but it seemed to be temperamental when we did,” Darnell said, reaching out a hand to Cam. “Nice to meet you.”
Emma smiled and offered Cam her hand as well.
“Did Emory tell you how bent out of shape we were when he started building that mansion of his? I even started a petition drive to stop construction. Thought that monstrosity was going to ruin the openness and natural feel of the lakeshore,” Darnell said.
“Hey!” Emory said good-naturedly.
“Glad it never got enough signatures. You and Arlene turned out to be the best neighbors we could have hoped for. It was hard to sell our cabin and move away.”
The two men smiled at each other.
“I can see how you’d feel that way. Emory has been more than generous to me,” Cam said.
“That’s our Emory,” Darnell added.
Emma broke into the conversation. “We were so sorry we couldn’t attend Arlene’s funeral. We were in Europe at the time. We’re so sorry for your loss. Arlene was a wonderful person. I’m going to miss her.”
Cam didn’t hear Emory’s response. All that rang in his ears was, “Arlene’s funeral…sorry for your loss.”
Of course! How could Cam have not realized Arlene had passed away—the wistful looks, the pregnant pauses, the bedroom that had obviously not been used in a long time. Maybe it was because he didn’t want to see it. If he had, the shield of protection—his believing Emory was not available—would have been stripped away. Cam would have had to face the reality of his growing feelings for the man, and what they could mean for his future. He would have to face the fears of another potentially devastating hurt a serious relationship might bring, and make a decision—one he didn’t want to make.
Darnell and Emma were saying goodnight. Cam numbly shook their hands. He and Emory sat down.
Emory was saying something about what good people the Wagners were. Then he stopped. “Is something wrong?”
Too embarrassed to admit he had missed what should have been obvious, Cam sidestepped the issue and covered awkwardly with, “You’re handling your loss so well.”
Emory smiled. He took a sip of his dinner wine. “It’s been two years now. I’ve had time to heal. Arlene was a good woman, a wonderful wife and mother. I loved her very much.”
Emory took his eyes away from Cam and stared for a moment out the large picture window that looked out on the lake.
When he turned back to Cam he looked down at his left hand which was resting on the table. He reached out to run a finger over his wedding ring. “When she put this ring on my finger, she didn’t know the man I really was—and never did.” Taking a deep breath, Emory returned his attention to the man sitting across from him. “From as long as I could remember I’ve wanted to be a husband and father, despite knowing full well I was gay. And for the most part it was a good marriage. I was faithful to Arlene, even though it was hard at times. There were times the longing for the touch of a man seemed overwhelming. I went through periods of feeling like a hypocrite, like I was living a lie. I was the perfect husband and father on the outside, but underneath was another man, one who longed to express himself. That was the man I felt I really was. But I stayed true to my vows.” Emory paused.
Cam felt Emory’s foot against his under the table.
“You’re the first man I’ve been with since Arlene died,” he said, his voice full of affection, his eyes shining with fondness.
Cam heard another voice in his head, one from his past. “You’re the first man I’ve ever been with.” It was Mickey’s voice, Cam’s lover after Danny. That had become Mickey’s excuse for his infidelity. “I’ve only been with you,” he’d say. “I need to experience what it’s like with other guys. It doesn’t mean I don’t love you.” Finally there had been too many other guys. Cam couldn’t equate love with infidelity, so he broke off the relationship.
Cam used this memory to rebuild his defenses. What was to prevent Emory from nee
ding to experience what sex was like with other men? Yes, that made it clear to Cam. He didn’t need to get involved with another philanderer. He would enjoy this weekend with Emory and then be on his way, safe from the pains romantic entanglements brought with them.
“I’m honored,” Cam said, responding to Emory’s disclosure that Cam had been his first. Then not knowing what else to say, he added, “I hope I was worth it.”
“Worth it? That doesn’t even begin to describe what this weekend means to me,” Emory began to say more but their server arrived with the dessert menu. Cam was glad for the interruption. He didn’t want to hear more of what Emory had to say, lest it confuse him further.
“May I interest either of you gentlemen in a dessert this evening?” the smiling young man, whose name tag identified him as Evan, asked.
In reality, Evan looked more like he belonged in a lifeguard’s chair rather than working in a restaurant. Cam watched to see if Emory seemed to notice Evan in any way other than being their server. Nothing was apparent. He chided himself for letting the paranoia surface Mickey had brought to his life.
“None for me. Emory?” Cam asked.
“I have another idea, so I’ll pass,” Emory said.
“Very well,” Evan said. “Will that be separate checks?”
“One,” Cam said, raising his hand.
“Very good.” Evan smiled and looked knowingly from Cam to Emory and back again to Cam.
Cam wondered if Emory had observed Evan assessing them. Had it not been for the heightened confusion Cam felt now that he knew Emory was free, he might have appreciated being thought of as Emory’s partner by the young server.
As they left the parking lot, Emory turned the car in the opposite direction of the way they had come.
“Is this part of that other idea you mentioned?” Cam asked.
“You can’t come to Traverse City without experiencing one of its local treasures.”
Turning left at the next road, Emory began to explain where they were headed. Cam tried to focus. However, his mind was torn between what Emory was saying and keeping his perspective on the weekend remaining just a fun sexual encounter and nothing more.
“So this ice cream parlor is way out here in the country but people flock to it. It was voted the best ice cream in America,” Emory was saying. “If you’re an ice cream lover, you’ve got to try this place. I know you said you didn’t want dessert, but this is to die for.“
When they arrived Cam saw that Emory hadn’t exaggerated. The line of people waiting to enter the shop wound completely around the parking lot. They got out of the car and got in line. It was still hot. The mid-summer sun hadn’t set and Cam quickly felt sweat running down between his shoulder blades. Although he liked ice cream, if it hadn’t been for Emory’s enthusiasm regarding the parlor, Cam would have suggested heading for the cool of Emory’s air conditioned house, rather than stand and swelter.
And Emory was enthusiastic to be sure. As the line inched forward, Emory eagerly pointed to the farm next door. He explained that the parlor was a family owned business and much of the milk used for the ice cream came from their own cows which Cam could see grazing in the pasture.
Cam saw the youthful excitement on Emory’s face as he animatedly told how the business had started. Something in Emory’s almost child-like enthusiasm for something as simple as ice cream started breaking through Cam’s barriers. Cam felt a stirring in his heart. He knew what it meant. He’d been fighting it all weekend, he couldn’t deny it further. He was falling in love.
What was there not to love? Emory was a handsome, sexy hunk. More than that, he was kind, generous, fun to be around, and one of the best kissers Cam had ever encountered. Cam had tried to hold himself in check, reminding himself of his tendency to give in to his emotions too quickly and become embroiled in situations that led to hurt. But by the time they had reached the door of the parlor, with the sign that read, Please enter quickly and close the door. We like to keep the cool in and the heat out. Our ice cream likes it that way, Cam was losing the battle with his feelings.
As they stood at the ice cream case displaying the choices for the day, Emory laid a hand on Cam’s shoulder as he explained the virtues of the various flavors. It was obvious he was a connoisseur, and had tried many of them. Cam let his imagination take over. He pictured the two men visiting the parlor regularly, becoming recognized as a couple. He moved closer to Emory to try to physically communicate what he was imagining.
“This is their best seller and my favorite,” Emory was saying. “It’s made with Traverse City cherries. They call it Cherries Moobilee.”
Again Emory’s innocent exuberance touched Cam. Cam smiled and agreed that the name for the flavor was very clever.
They ordered two large cones and decided they would eat them in the car with the A/C running. There were no seats left inside the store, and to eat the ice cream outside in the heat would be a disaster. It would be soup in no time.
“You’ve got ice cream on your nose,” Emory said with a chuckle.
Cam started to wipe it off with a paper napkin, but Emory stopped him and said, “No, let me.” He leaned toward Cam with a mischievous grin on his face and licked the end of Cam’s nose, then kissed it. “All better.”
Something about the playfulness in Emory’s gesture smashed through Cam’s resistance. Cam pulled Emory closer and kissed him.
Unaware that Cam had just given up and allowed himself to fall in love with him, the man said, “I’ll take that as a thank you.” Emory massaged the back of Cam’s neck while looking deeply into his eyes.
Cam sighed. His apprehension at setting free his feelings for Emory lessened even more.
They drove back to Emory’s. Cam sat back, his hand resting on Emory’s leg, watching the fireflies begin their mating dance as dusk descended. Could this actually work? he asked himself. Can I trust Emory to not hurt me like Danny and Mickey?
“I have another idea,” Emory said. “When we get home let’s go for a swim. It’ll feel good in all this heat.”
“Deal,” Cam agreed, giving Emory’s thigh a squeeze.
* * * *
When they got home Mr. Magee was overjoyed to see them. The dog had gone to Emory first. Cam, who was a believer in signs and portents, took the dog’s enthusiastic greeting for Emory as confirmation that his decision to let his feelings for the man flow freely was correct. Cam felt it further confirmation when Emory said he’d like to come with Cam on Mr. Magee’s dog walk. The men and dog strolled along the beach, Mr. Magee contentedly sniffing while Emory and Cam talked about the beauty of the night as the stars twinkled overhead and the crickets chirped in the brush. Cam’s heart sang when Emory took hold of his hand as they walked.
They arrived back at the house and Cam went to retrieve the bathing suits they had worn earlier.
“Forget those,” Emory said, the now familiar evil grin on his face. Emory walked to Cam and handed him a beach towel. “These will get us safely to the lake, then…” Emory waggled his eyebrows.
Cam laughed. “You’re incorrigible!”
“And you love it,” Emory said, pulling Cam close and kissing him.
The kiss broke and Cam said, “Yeah, I do, very much.”
He almost declared his love for Emory then and there, but hesitated. He wasn’t quite ready to let himself say the words aloud.
The men stripped off their clothes and wrapped the towels around their waists. After apologizing to Mr. Magee for abandoning him once again, they made their way down to the dock. With no moon, the lake was black as pitch.
“I hope you know where your raft is,” Cam said. “I can’t see a thing.”
“I’ll fix that,” Emory said.
He walked to a small box on a post at the end of the dock, punched in a code on a key pad, and opened the door. A moment later the raft, some distance from the dock, was illuminated from below by underwater flood lights at each of its corners.
“Wow!” Cam excla
imed. The beautiful, iridescent, blue-green glow created by the underwater lighting seemed almost magical.
“Come on,” Emory said, dropping his towel. “Race you to the raft!”
He ran to the end of the pier and dove in. Cam followed close behind. The night air was warm and humid. The water was cool and refreshing. Despite Emory’s head start, Cam easily overtook him, then slacked off, and swam with him stroke for stroke. Slowing further as they reached the raft, Emory touched first.
“You let me win,” Emory said as the two clung to the raft, breathing heavily.
“No, I—”
“Cam,” Emory said with an inflection that said, “I know better.”
“Well, yes,” Cam confessed. “I was on the swim team in college and I didn’t want to—.”
“Make the old guy look bad?” Emory asked with a laugh.
“No! That’s not it. I just…” Cam couldn’t think of what to say. He didn’t want to offend Emory.
“Not to worry,” Emory said. “Age is just a number. I’m happy with who I am. And happier now that you’re here with me.”
Emory pulled Cam close and kissed him. The kiss was full of passion and emotion. Cam kissed him back with equal intensity, the sexual arousal now infused with deep affection, with love.”
For a long time the men played in the water—wrestling, groping, diving from the raft. Finally, they lay side by side on the soft, artificial turf.
Emory reached out to trace the contours of Cam’s face. “I didn’t turn on the raft lights, just those under it, just in case we needed more privacy.”
“And what would we need more privacy for?” Cam teased.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe this.” Emory rolled over on top of Cam and ground his already hard cock against Cam’s. Emory pinned Cam’s arms to the raft by his wrists.
Water dripping off his nose, Emory smiled down at Cam. Emory slowly lowered his face until his lips brushed Cam’s. Cam opened his mouth and let Emory’s tongue enter. Emory released his grip, and the two men wrapped arms around each other.
Rolling onto their sides, they continued to kiss, run hands over their backs, and massage firm, full buttocks. Hard cocks slid back and forth next to each other and balls were pressed tightly together.
