by Seth King
“Doesn’t it make them wiser?” he asks.
“If you’re listening, yes, you will become wiser over time. The problem is that nobody is ever listening to what the universe is trying to tell them. We kick and flail through life so blindly, so impatiently, never stopping to try and listen to the winds. I meet just as many seventy-year-old ignoramuses as I do ignoramuses who are your age.”
His body glistens. His eyes do the same as he smirks at me. “What is the universe telling you today?”
“That I’m about to do some bad things on this boat, unless I control myself.”
He gulps and looks away – but his cock is hard beneath his short swimsuit.
Fuck, maybe I shouldn’t even be noticing that…
“So,” I ask. “One more subject. How did your mom handle it when you came out? And how did you know you were…like me?”
“Because I was dating girls and felt nothing,” he says a little sadly. “I always felt so different, like such an oddball. But I wasn’t odd, I was just gay. So eventually I put two and two together, and decided to stop denying it to myself. And as for my mom…um, she was…weird. We’ve still never really talked about it, in any meaningful way. Well, besides this one time when she told me I could love anyone I wanted, and it was my decision. But…she doesn’t know how to talk about it. She’s fine with it, we just sort of dance around the subject. I think she’s afraid, and didn’t want the same future for me that she saw you go through. But that’s so dumb. I’m fine.”
“I think that’s when she emailed me once, actually. When you came out. She didn’t mention you. She just said sexuality was on her mind, and she apologized to me, and said she should’ve been more understanding.”
“Really?” he asks. “I think she handled it pretty well, considering she unknowingly married a gay dude. And why did you even do that, by the way?” he asks then, a little awkwardly. I look away.
“God. So many reasons. Also, no real reasons at all. A decade or two ago, things were so different. You couldn’t really be as ‘out’ as you can now. So think about it – in your teen years, while all the straight people are running around dating and hooking up and getting all that out of their systems, I was closeted. I was at home, hanging out with my mom. So I was delayed. I didn’t hit that ‘slutty teenager’ phase until I was probably twenty-five. For gay men, there’s a major sense of arrested development.”
“You’re telling me.”
“Yeah. So…I just didn’t know myself. I thought I was going with the flow and doing the acceptable thing. I didn’t realize I was living against my own grain. Not at first.”
“Yeah.” He gets more serious. “So forget about all this for a second, and tell me…”
“Yes?”
“Pretend we’d never met. Pretend…none of the ‘before’ stuff had ever happened. Would you ever date me?”
First, I smile. I didn’t know he was even considering our future, and it makes me melt a little. Then I bite my lip again.
Honestly, twenty-two is young, regardless of the Mary Kate factor. I wouldn’t tell my friends about our former link until it became necessary, but honestly, they’d still tease me about his age. My friend Steven, who is forty-ish, recently went to his boyfriend’s college graduation, and honestly the pictures were just sad. Pathetic, even. In the group photos after the ceremony, Steven looked as old as the kid’s parents, and the parents looked mortified. I would never want to look like a cradle robber, desperately trying to stay young by dating guys who were half my age.
But then again, Eliot is a serious adult. Being raised inside a messy family ensured that he acts decades older than he is. He’s mature. He’s steady-handed. If I didn’t tell my friends his age, they’d probably assume he was in his early thirties. For now, it could be our little secret. Nobody would know the better.
“Robert,” he says in a very different voice. I realize I’m not even looking at him, and I turn and see something shocking: he’s staring at me very intently, like he’s scared or confused or something, and his legs are open even further than before.
“Yes?”
“I can’t do this anymore.”
My shoulders fall. Oh. That should’ve been obvious. Of course he can’t. He’s paddling around with his former stepfather. Of course he’s been weirded out. Fuck. I went at him way too quickly, I should’ve calmed myself…
“Fine,” I say as I start to turn around. “I can take us back now…”
“Stop,” he says. “I didn’t mean I wanted to leave. I meant I couldn’t sit here another minute without taking my dick out.”
My heart stops. “You did?”
He swallows. He’s so hard to read. “Robert,” he gulps, his eyes intense. “I have never, in my life, been so turned on by anyone before. Ever. Do you feel the same?”
I stare down at the seat. “Yes, I do,” I say quietly. “It’s probably even beyond that.”
“Then keep paddling. I want to start slow, so I just want you to watch me with my dick out. Don’t make a move yet. Okay?”
“Okay,” I gulp, my stomach convulsing and my forehead sweating.
As I watch, he reaches under, adjusts his suit, and then pulls out his semi-hard dick and lays it against his leg. I try to swallow, but my mouth is too dry. Because he has one of the most beautiful penises I’ve ever seen, well-shaped and thick. Not huge, not even big, really, but perfect in other ways. And since I’m usually a top, it doesn’t matter much to me, anyway.
But it matters now. That thing is magnificent.
“Now paddle, please,” he says. “On this boat, forget everything that came before. Forget we ever met. Pretend we’re like strangers.”
“Your moods – they jump,” I say soon, as I paddle. “You’re very hot-and-cold.”
“I’m just afraid sometimes,” he says a little more softly. “Conflicted. But not right now. Keep going.”
I sit taller and try to push us further upstream, my eyes on him all the while. He’s playing some sort of game with me, and I don’t understand it. The energy between us is intensifying by the moment, and although the woods look empty, there are trails that crisscross the creek everywhere. Someone – maybe even David or Mary Kate – could happen upon us at any moment. And yet that’s the thing partly lending us the electricity, isn’t it?
But soon I give up. I’m going to spurt into my swimsuit if I don’t end this somehow, or escalate it. I want him so badly I can feel him against my skin. So I’ll compromise. I’ll please him without really pleasing him.
In short, I’ll only touch him with my tongue.
I set down the paddle. “Eliot,” I say, “take off your bathing suit, and spread your legs open.”
“Why?”
“Have you ever had your ass eaten while you operated a canoe?”
“Um…that’s a definite no.”
“Well you’re about to. It’s a compromise, if you will. I want to do so much more, but if I limit myself when I start out, I’ll know my own parameters.”
“Well, that is my favorite thing, actually, to have a tongue down there…”
My heart pounds as I get up. I hand him the paddle, both of us with wide eyes. Then I lower myself to the floor of the canoe, which is thankfully clean, and slide out of my suit as he does the same. Then he sits on my seat. On my back, I creep backward until my head is under his hole, which is hanging just over the edge of the seat.
Fuck, it’s so small and delicious looking, I could do filthy things to this…I’m already overwhelmed…
“Start paddling,” I say.
“Why?”
“You’ll need something to distract you, so you don’t come too quickly.”
“…You mean you can make people come with only your tongue?”
I lift myself closer, closer, closer…
“You’re about to find out.”
Eliot Prince
Row, row, row your boat. And get your ass eaten by your former stepdad, too…
Just kidding. That nursery rhyme would never pass the smell test. (For many reasons.) But as I propel us up the creek and his tongue touches my skin, I am greeted by a sublime and surreal thought: my ass is about to be entered by the dude who used to be my mom’s husband.
Oooooh. I have no more time to think, because he’s good. Very good. Fuck. I guess his experience is a huge boost. As I try to paddle, his tongue flicks against my hole for a minute, teasing and playing and threatening. I’ve never felt, or done, anything like this.
“Whoa,” I moan. “You’re good.”
His body is stretched out before me, his head under my ass. He reaches up and starts exploring me, nearly worshipping me, like he’s at an altar and I am a statue of the Madonna or something.
“Jesus, your body is perfect. Are you an athlete?”
“Used to be a swimmer. Every day. It fucking sucked.”
“It shows,” he says, and then as I watch, my nipple disappears between two of his fingers.
“Mhmm,” I moan, my head falling back. He caresses it, then pinches it fairly hard, igniting my nerve endings like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. Dear God, if he’s this good with my nipples, what is he going to do to my dick?
“Kiss me,” I groan, and he pushes himself up and kisses me hard, almost desperately. I feel anxious for his attention in a way I don’t understand. I want him to go and go and go and never stop.
Then he retreats back down my body, resting with his back against the floor of the canoe again. He takes his cock in his hand as his tongue goes deeper. Oh, Jesus – his tongue just went in. He’s no longer licking me, he’s fucking me with his tongue, jamming it in there with his entire face.
“Fuck,” he says during a break, when my eyes are rolled back into my head. “You’ve got a nice hole, Eliot. Very tight and nice.”
“Thanks,” I vaguely respond, trying not to clench my legs together. The sun on his sweaty, hairy torso, his thick cock in his own hands, the delicious naughtiness of the whole thing – it’s too much.
Except that it was just the start. Soon he reaches up and takes the tip of my dick, and pumps me as he enters me with his tongue. I’ve never, in my life, had a guy do anything like this to me.
“Oh, yes,” he says as his mouth devours me, and I can see his eyes below me now – I guess he’s watching my reaction. “Look at those muscles pump in your chest while you paddle. Fuck, this is hot.”
Something starts to rumble deep down, and I know I’m about to come. I clench my abs instead. “Fuck, daddy…”
He pauses. I stop rowing, and we drift over to the side of the creek. Everything is silent.
“What?” he asks, and I’m so ashamed I stare off at nothing.
“I, um…God, sorry, it’s just something I blurted out. It’s been in my head. You know, like, daddy, that gay slang term?”
His eyes, directly below my balls, are unreadable.
“Did I weird you out?”
“Perhaps,” he says, his eyes hardening. “But not enough to stop.”
“Really?”
“You’re irresistible, Eliot. Now get ready for my thumb to be inside you.”
“What?”
Without responding he spits on his large thumb and then buries it down to the knuckle, and that’s it – I feel the seal break inside me, and I come.
I lean back, moaning and gasping, as he leans in and collects every bit of come on his face. I look down and see my product all over his handsome features, and that’s when something happens that has never happened before – I feel a strange whoosh inside me, and then my body clenches again, and honest to God, I have a second orgasm, milliseconds after the first. My eyes close again, and I feel myself spurt all over his mouth as he collects every pump.
Jesus Christ – for the first time, I just came twice in a row. I only ever thought women could have double orgasms. And here I am, having one in broad daylight, in a fucking canoe.
“You okay?” Robert asks as I paint against the bow of the boat.
“Yeah, um…shit,” I breathe. “Did you see that?”
“I did. It seems you came twice.”
“Is that even a thing that happens?”
“It is now,” he shrugs. “Get used to it. Now come with me.”
“Huh?”
“We’re parking the canoe. There’s a waterfall I want to show you. I saw it on the map in the kitchen.”
“Really? Now? With come all over your face?”
“Monroe Falls. I think it’s right up the hill. And Eliot? I can wash off my face up there, you know.”
My body is numb as we tie the canoe to a tree and head up the trail. Even though I feel spent, I still feel charged being next to him, especially when we’re both shirtless in nature – it feels strangely caveman-esque. And it only gets stronger.
Ugh. I’ve never been attracted to a person like this. I don’t just want to kiss him – I want to run to him as ‘80s pop music plays and wrap my legs around him. I don’t just want to lay with him, I want to tangle myself in him and stroke his chest hair while he tells me all his darkest secrets. And I don’t just want to hook up with him, I want him to do things I’ve never had anyone do.
The trail dumps us into a large open area, and the white noise coming from over a small hill tells me we’re close. The air gets cooler as we climb, and soon we’re staring at a genuine North Carolina mountain waterfall. A small stream tumbles probably twenty feet into a deep area, and a trash-strewn picnic site next to the boulders tell me people were just here. It’s private now, though, and I can’t wait to make out with Robert in the frigid Carolina water.
I turn to him. “What are you waiting for? Take off your bathing suit.”
He looks from side to side. “…Here? You’re sure?”
“Robert. When’s the next time you’re going to be alone with another guy next to a scenic mountain waterfall? This, like, isn’t real.”
“Good point. You get naked too, though.”
“I’m already on it.”
I watch him climb out of his trunks and expose that big fat thing I love so much, then I do the same. Finally I run into the water, which is freezing, and will result in major shrinkage. Oh, well – Robert has already seen my cock. If he disapproved, he wouldn’t still be here.
I swim to where the water hits the surface, then just bob around for a while. I’ve never been this relaxed, this carefree. He makes me feel easy. When I come up for air, he is standing on a ledge next to the falls, just watching me.
“What?” I ask, shaking my hair.
“Nothing. You just make me feel young again.”
“And you make me feel horny again.”
“Of course. That, too.”
He smiles, his eyes shining against the falls.
And that’s when I do it. I forget about all the things holding us back. I forget about the past weighing us down. I forget about the barricades ahead in our future. I swim over, desperately climb up the boulder, grab him by his face, and let my lips dissolve into his.
My body falls against his. He gasps and wraps his hands in my hair, and I press my chest against his so tightly I can feel his heartbeat. We writhe and sway together, our bodies moving in perfect harmony. For a long time I just dissolve into the kiss, letting him take me off into the clouds. This isn’t a kiss, this is Camelot – this is magic.
This is Robert.
But how long can the magic of one kiss last? How long until the real world comes crashing down on our shoulders? How long until reality breaks the spell?
On the way back to the canoe, he offers me his hand. I smile and take it. And this time, I don’t let go.
Part III
Ignition
Eliot Prince
We kiss one last time, in the safety of the dock house after we put up the canoe. The late afternoon air is thick and hazy, and I don’t know whether I want to have a marathon sex session or pass out cold for three hours.
“God,” he breathes.
&nbs
p; “Yes?”
“I already want to see you again,” he says, wide-eyed, as he stares down at my chest.
“Same,” I sigh into his hair. If I could make this moment last forever, I would. “Same…”
And then we part ways again. Because the weirdest thing of all is that during all the Robert craziness, I have to pretend I’m also interested in this boring family retreat. And David, too. Up until now, though, he’s been fine. Whenever I disappear, I try to make sure he’s occupied first – playing Scrabble with the kids, drinking wine with an aunt, etcetera. He already knew my family, anyway. But this is starting to be too much. He’s going to notice. I know he is.
But at the same time, I can’t stop. The train has left the station. Robert is too addicting not to pursue whatever this may become.
I hold my breath and walk into our room. “Hey,” I say as David slides into a shirt.
“Hi.” He glances at me, giving me this weird look. Then I wonder if the thing I see in his eyes is suspicion. “Hey, where were you all day, anyway?”
“Uh – canoeing,” I say after a weirdly long pause.
“Oh. With?”
I swallow. “Robert.”
“Uh, what?”
“I, um…yeah. I kinda want to get to know him again.”
“Your weird, hot stepdad?”
“David. He’s not my stepdad. He was barely married to my mom, and that was years and years ago.”
“Okay…it’s just…”
“What?” I interrupt. “How is that weird?”
“I didn’t say it was weird. You did.”
For a long time, there is only silence. Then his eyes change even more. “Be careful,” he says in a quieter voice.
“W-what?”
Finally he looks away, looking smug or pissed or – well, I can’t quite tell. But it doesn’t sit well.
“Be careful on those canoes,” he says. “I heard they tip over easily. That’s all I meant.”
