Baja Honeymoon

by Roland Graeme

  Beside the pool, both men stripped.

  Despite his display of nonchalance, Ken was in fact a bit hesitant to enter the water, but he duly went first, breaking through the layer of floating moss. The water was pleasantly lukewarm near the edges of the pool, but as he waded toward the far side where the spring fed in, he began to find himself surrounded by pockets of noticeably hotter water.

  “Is it as slimy and disgusting as it looks?” Rick asked.

  “Not quite. It’s kind of pleasant, actually.”

  “Well, since you don’t seem to be dissolving in the muck, I guess I’ll join you.”

  Ken now realized that, predictably enough, he was hardly the only living thing in the pool. And not all of his companions were microorganisms. Swarms of minuscule fish, none of them more than an inch long, were swimming restlessly around his legs, tickling them. He wasn’t sure he welcomed such an attack en masse but, after all, this wasn’t the Amazon River and these weren’t piranhas. He waded closer to the spring, where the water was so hot it felt like steaming bath water. Vapor, in fact, rose from the surface here and drifted through the air in a warm, humid fog. Previous bathers, Ken now saw, had gone to the considerable trouble of constructing a roughly circular rock wall around the crack that the hot water flowed from, to create a primitive natural hot tub. There were even a few large flat slabs set as paving stones on the bottom, and they felt delightfully warm under the soles of Ken’s feet. He sank down, immersing himself up to his chin, and sat back to soak.

  Rick, he noted with amusement, was still standing there bare-assed naked at the water’s edge, waiting to see if Ken survived his immersion unscathed.

  “You’d better get your ass in here before it gets sunburned,” Ken advised.

  Gingerly, Rick waded out into the water.

  “Try not to scare the fish,” Ken quipped.

  “Fuck. This is like swimming in an aquarium,” Rick complained.

  “They won’t eat you. Just be careful one of the really small ones doesn’t swim up into your pisser.”

  Rick, chest deep in water, froze. “You don’t think that’s actually possible, do you?”

  “I doubt it. Come on, stop being such a fucking wuss.”

  Soon both men were relaxing in the hot tub area, tilting their heads back to admire the way the rugged canyon walls were covered by shifting patterns of light and shade in the fading afternoon sunlight.

  “This isn’t bad at all,” Rick conceded. “Back home, a lot of people would pay big money to have something like this in their backyard.”

  They settled in and enjoyed a good long soak.

  Eventually, though, they got out and decided to explore farther up the canyon. This necessitated going back to the truck to get some footwear and token clothing since, as Rick pointed out, the mere fact that there didn’t seem to be any other people around didn’t necessarily make this a clothing-optional area.

  “Plus,” Rick added, “it’ll save you the trouble of checking out my butt. If you keep staring at my ass like that, you’re going to run the risk of stumbling over something on the ground and falling flat on your face. Which would serve you right.”

  Ken didn’t bother to deny that he had in fact been quite assiduously checking out Rick’s butt, which was quite an attractive sight in the strong sunlight. “It’s a very pretty butt,” he conceded. “Too bad you don’t know it’s good for a lot of things besides just sitting on.”

  “Quite the comedian, aren’t you? Come on, let’s get at least half-dressed. And we’d better smear on some sunscreen to be on the safe side. I’ll do your back if you’ll do mine.”

  “I’d like to do a lot more than your back.”

  “You’re incorrigible.” Nonetheless, Rick granted Ken the comparatively innocent pleasure of rubbing the sunscreen over his sun-warmed shoulders and back. Ken’s slippery fingers and palms lingered over the sleek flesh perhaps longer than was strictly necessary, but Rick made no protest. In turn, Rick gave Ken a rather brisker, more businesslike rubdown with the ointment.

  Then, attired in hiking boots and shorts, they followed the stream as it meandered through large granite boulders, with patches of lush green vegetation surrounding and feeding upon the deeper pools of murky water that pocketed the terrain. The peaks of the Sierra de La Laguna soared high above the canyon walls, and the air was hazy in the late afternoon heat, which created a washed-out bluish-purple effect. The canyon was alive not only with the buzzing of insects but also the cooing of doves and the cries of other desert birds.

  Trudging up the mostly dry riverbed, the two hikers tried to imagine what this secluded place would look like during the annual flooding. They paused in the shade of a small grove of palms and admired the landscape around them.

  Baja’s interior was a land of extremes. Ken looked down at the cool water trickling through the rocks and the soft, thick moss floating on the surface of the pools, and then he glanced back up at the canyon walls, where scrubby cacti and other desert plants somehow managed to take root and survive in the arid desert sand.

  After some further exploring, it was time to retrace their steps and walk back down the canyon to the truck.

  “We might as well make camp right here,” Rick suggested.

  “Yes, it’s a perfect spot.”

  This was their first night spent camping inland, away from the beach, and it felt strange at first to be away from the ocean. Instead of the crash of the surf on the beach, they could hear the lowing of cattle as herds grazed restlessly through the dry grass and dense underbrush covering an area of flat ground in the distance. Ken debated about the odds of there being a stampede during the night and the risk of being trampled by the free-ranging cattle while he and Rick slept. He decided the risk was minimal.

  After eating, they sat in the shade of the canyon walls, basking like lizards in the warmth that still radiated from the rocks, which had been scorched by the sun throughout the daylight hours. One advantage of camping away from the coast was the absence of the hordes of sand flies and other insects that always seemed to be so plentiful on the beach. There were insects here, but not in the same abundance, and the peskier critters weren’t missed.

  By now Rick seemed to take it for granted that Ken would share his sleeping bag. Ken’s own bag remained rolled up and lashed to the rack of the truck. That night, Rick went to bed wearing his T-shirt and undershorts, while Ken climbed into the bag, next to him, unselfconsciously nude. Their trusty lamp threw a pool of warm amber light across the two men’s upper bodies, and made the sides of the tent glow a more intense orange.

  “Look at you,” Rick said, matter-of-factly. “You’re getting all tan, already.”

  “So are you.”

  “It looks good on you.”

  “It looks good on you too.”

  Rick chuckled. “Okay, now that the mutual admiration society has held its meeting—are you ready for me to turn the light out?”

  “Yeah, go ahead.”

  Rick switched off the lamp, throwing the interior of the tent into shadow.

  The night sky was clear, and they fell asleep under a canopy of gleaming stars. But they didn’t sleep for long. Ken became aware that Rick was nudging him.

  “Ken. Are you asleep?”

  “Yes. I’m asleep, you’re asleep, you’re dreaming, and I’m talking to you in your dream.”

  “Very funny. I guess I can’t count on getting any sympathy from you.”

  “Why? What’s the matter?”

  “I can’t seem to get to sleep tonight. I feel restless.”

  “I would think you’d be tired out, after everything we did today.”

  “I am tired, but I still feel restless. The truth is, I feel kind of horny too.”

  “Oh, really.”

  “Yes, really.”

  “Well, that was bound to happen, sooner or later.”

  “I haven’t had sex since I broke up with Eva.”

  “And before that you were getting it regul
arly, I assume?”

  “When she was in town. How about you? When was the last time you got laid?”

  “It was right before you and I met. I picked up this guy in a bar and we had a one-night stand. A long, hot night, to be sure, but still just a one-night stand.” Ken thought for a moment. “Unless you count all the jerking off I’ve done since then, fantasizing about you.”

  “How very flattering. You slut.”

  “Don’t knock it. Jerking off has its place in the scheme of things. I’m not the one lying here complaining about how ‘restless’ he is.”

  “Point taken.”

  “Go to sleep. Nobody ever died because he had a hard-on but didn’t do anything with it.”

  “The truth is, now that you’ve mentioned it, I really do feel like jerking off.”

  “So go ahead and jerk off.”

  “I can’t. Not with you here.”

  “Oh for God’s sake. I can’t believe this. I can’t believe you’re making such a big deal out of this. I guess I could get up and go outside and take a walk.”

  “I couldn’t let you do that. I’d feel guilty, chasing you out of the tent in the middle of the night. And then I’d feel as though I had to, ah, you know, hurry up and get it over with as fast as possible. So I wouldn’t keep you waiting outside in the cold night air any longer than necessary.”

  “It doesn’t seem all that cold tonight. It’s kind of balmy, actually.”

  “I’d hate myself if I made you get out of bed.”

  “We seem to have arrived at a stalemate. Unless you opt for the obvious solution, which would be to go ahead and jerk off. Honestly, I don’t mind. It wouldn’t bother me.”

  “Are you serious? It wouldn’t bother you to have me whack it, right here in front of you?”

  “I promise not to look. I’ll keep my eyes closed.”

  “Yeah, but I tend to, uh, make a lot of noise when I come. And you don’t have any earplugs packed in your stuff, do you?”

  “No. But don’t sweat it. I’ll just block out any disgusting sex noises you might make.”

  “You’re awfully casual about the whole idea.”

  “What’d you expect? That I’d get all uptight about it? Jerking off is no big deal to me. I’ve been known to indulge in it myself, you know. Often.”

  “Tell me….”

  “Tell you what?”

  “When you’re with another guy—you know, a guy you’re fooling around with—do you ever watch each other jack off?”

  “Sure. We gay guys call it foreplay. Because with any luck, it usually leads to other things. At the risk of shocking you, I’ll have you know we even do it to each other on occasion. As in, trade hand jobs.” Ken hesitated. “I could always do it for you, you know.”

  “Do what?”

  “Give you a hand job.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “I’m perfectly serious.”

  “I thought we’d agreed you wouldn’t come on to me.”

  “I’m not coming on to you. You’re the one who brought it up. I’m willing to help you out. If you aren’t interested, then either start playing with yourself and get it over with, or forget about it and let’s both try to get some sleep.”

  “Fuck,” Rick muttered. Ken wasn’t quite sure how to interpret the monosyllable.

  When Rick said nothing further for a few moments, Ken assumed, to his disappointment, that the other man had decided to avail himself of the second option: forgetting about it and trying to get some sleep. But then his friend surprised him, and not for the first time.

  “A hand job isn’t really gay sex, is it?” Rick asked.

  “You sound like a guy who’s trying to talk himself into something,” Ken replied. “And in my experience, when a guy does that, his mind is already made up.”

  “It’s just that I’m so fucking horny,” Rick blurted out. “Dropping a load’s just about all I can think about right now.”

  “So stop thinking about it already, and just do it. Get it over with. Listen, a hand job is a hand job. Let me give you a hypothetical situation. If there was some hot chick here in this tent with you instead of me, and she wasn’t willing to put out for you all the way, but she was willing to give you a hand job, would you turn her down?”

  “I guess not.”

  “Well, the last time I checked, a hand is just another body part, not a sex organ. It doesn’t have a gender. I’m willing to lend you a hand, so to speak. So what’s the difference?”

  “Is this how you talk guys into having sex with you?”

  “I don’t have to talk guys into having sex with me. They either want to, or they don’t. I don’t waste my time trying to convert straight guys, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  Rick didn’t say anything, but appeared to be ruminating. Ken wondered what was going through the other man’s mind.

  Somehow, though, he didn’t think Rick’s silence was a symptom of resistance. I suppose it’s up to me to make the first move after all. I’ll either get a punch in the mouth or I’ll get to first base. Only one way to find out which.

  He put his hand on Rick’s shoulder, and gave the firm, rounded muscle the lightest of caresses through the thin fabric of Rick’s T-shirt. Rick didn’t flinch, tense up, or try to pull away, which was more encouragement than Ken needed to progress further.

  “Hey,” Ken whispered, repeating the shoulder massage.

  “Hey what?”

  “How does that feel? Me touching you, I mean?”

  “It feels okay.”

  “Only okay?”

  “It feels kind of nice.”

  “You don’t mind it.” This time, Ken made it a statement, rather than a question.

  “I guess not.”

  “Suppose I touched your cock,” Ken whispered. “Would you freak out on me? Jump up and punch me in the mouth?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I wouldn’t do anything like that.”

  “What would you do?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Maybe you’d just lie there and let me do it, so you could see what it feels like.”

  “Maybe,” Rick muttered, barely audibly.

  “Only one way to find out.”

  “Don’t tease me, Ken,” Rick pleaded.

  “Okay.”

  “You’re going to have to help me out. You know, guide me through this.”

  “Okay,” Ken repeated.

  “I feel so tense. I guess I’m a little uptight.”

  A little? Ken wanted to exclaim. But he went on massaging the other man’s torso through his shirt. His palm brushed over Rick’s pectoral muscle, encountering a speed bump along the way in the form of a large and definitely stiffened nipple. Ken applied more pressure to the nipple, rubbing it through the cloth of the T-shirt, and Rick squirmed against him and stifled a groan. Ken had no difficulty interpreting this sound. It was a combination of guilt and purely physical pleasure, and he resolved to do his damnedest to tip the balance in favor of the pleasure.

  “Close your eyes,” Ken whispered. “Just relax and let it happen. Pretend you’re asleep and you’re just having some kind of a sex dream.”

  Rick’s weight lay passive against him. Deftly, Ken grasped the elastic waistband of Rick’s boxer shorts and pushed them down to his knees. Then, moving in the darkness inside the sleeping bag as though guided by some unerring instinct, his hand sought and claimed the prize. Rick’s stiff penis filled his fist. Rick hadn’t been exaggerating about his degree of need. His cock was thick and throbbing, inflexible in Ken’s grip.

  “So how does that feel?” Ken asked.

  “Oh my God!”

  “Good, huh?” Ken was already giving Rick’s erection a preliminary squeeze and stroke, measuring its heft with his hand.

  “Yeah,” Rick responded, in a tense whisper.

  “Oh, that’s a nice cock,” Ken purred. “A sweet piece of meat you’ve got there, buddy. Just the kind I like. Nice and long and thick.
You really are hard up, aren’t you? When I squeeze it, it doesn’t seem to give under the pressure at all. Fuck. I can almost feel all of that hot, thick cum trapped inside there, getting ready to blast out. Fuck,” he repeated.

  “Fuck,” Rick gasped, echoing Ken’s exclamation more hoarsely.

  “I’m going to pump the motherfucker,” Ken promised. “You let me know if I’m not doing it the way you like.”

  Suiting the action to the word, he tightened his grip on the shaft of Rick’s cock and began to stroke it from base to tip, then back again, accompanying each stroking motion with a strong, possessive squeeze.

  They were lying together spoon fashion, with Rick’s back turned to Ken and Ken’s arms around the other man. Rick squirmed against Ken, pushing his behind quite brazenly back against Ken’s groin. Keeping his right hand working away on Rick’s cock, Ken used his left hand to push Rick’s T-shirt up his torso, baring his chest. His fingers found and fondled one of the actor’s impressively rigid nipples. He risked a light pinch, and Rick shuddered and moaned.

  “Oh, you like that, huh?” Ken taunted.

  “Keep doing it,” Rick pleaded in a faint, hoarse voice. “Please, Ken. Please.”

  “Don’t you worry about a thing, buddy. I’m going to take real good care of you.” And with that promise, Ken fell silent and concentrated his full attention upon stimulating his helplessly aroused tent mate.

  Yeah! Ken exulted. Big, fat dick in my fist, I’m jerking it, it’s getting ready to come. And that hot little butt of his rubbing against my own dick the whole time. Oh, that feels good. So good. Goddamn prick teaser!

  I don’t want to just jerk him, though. I want his cock in my mouth and up my ass. Maybe not tonight. I don’t want to push too hard, don’t want to risk scaring him off. We’d better just take it one step at a time. But I swear to God I’m going to suck this horny bastard off and talk him into fucking me before this trip’s over. I’m going to have that cock of his—all of it, every hot, hard inch. Fucking my face… reaming out my ass… going into me deep, in and out of my hole, fucking me, making me come— “Oh shit,” he exclaimed aloud.

  “Fuck, yeah,” Rick responded, his voice sounding taut and strained. “I’m going to come if you keep that up.”