Date: Sat, 11 Jul 2015 19:42:21 -0500 From: Bix Meister Subject: Jack Pine Savages Part 3: Clarity A Year In The Life Jack Pine Savages Part 3: Clarity By Bix Meister This is a story featuring gay men, and gay sex, intended for Adults, not Minors. It is fiction, and as such is not based on any actual people or events. It is a fantasy intended purely as a catalyst for pleasure. No attempts have been made to portray safe sex, but the author encourages you to practice it. If this is your first trip to my series, I suggest you start at the beginning, Snowplow. You will get to know the characters more. If you enjoy it, consider donating to Nifty. If you have suggestions or feedback, contact me at bixmeister57@gmail.com ********** This Chapter is written from each man's perspective as noted ********** ********** Kyle's Story ********** There was a certain clarity in the fall and winter months when I was 15. Puberty can be confusing for anyone, especially someone from a small town in the early 1970's, fighting with his sexuality. However a chance introduction via TV, to the guy who would become my favorite jerk off fantasy, slammed the door shut on any question of my orientation. Even though I did nothing to act on it, I felt sure and strong in my future as a gay man. My parents gave me the conviction to live my life, and express the thoughts I did, even if they were unpopular. I thought then that people could see right through me, knew my secret, but in the end I didn't care. For an awkward scrawny fifteen year old, I had strength in my beliefs, and my many friends accepted me the way I was. Beyond Ivan, my TV crush, I remember some of the other men who helped map out what kind of man attracted me. For the most part they were MEN, not boys. I was the team manager for Basketball and Football. Only a few of the players caught my eyes, but Coach was a different story. Coach was all man. Tightly muscled, lightly furred, he had a swagger that carried him through the locker room, field or on the court. There was also this Basketball ref from the Range. Tall, handsome, nice five o'clock shadow and chest hair spilling above his white t-shirt. Then after one game I saw him head out of the coaches office, down towards the locker room and showers. He had about seven inches of soft dick hanging between his legs. Damn, he ruined me for a while. That long dick of his became the impossible mark. The local cop's strong cleft chin, and perpetual five o'clock shadow also left an impression. The town women would swoon at him in his all too tight uniform. I remember delivering the newspaper one Sunday morning when I opened the door to drop off the morning paper. He was standing there in the kitchen, naked, coffee cup in hand, showing me what filled out those uniform pants. He winked at me, he knew. Yep, I was into men, not boys. Most of all I remember the weekly trips to the Iron Range with my Dad. My oldest sister had gotten a job out of college at a hospital there. She wasn't in a position long enough to afford her own car, so Dad would travel up there on Friday, pick her up and bring her home. On Sunday, the process would repeat. I would be Dad's trusty sidekick for the two hour round trip. AM radio was still king. Nightfall was early these months, and changes in the ionosphere allowed me considerably more options for the road-trip soundtrack. I could opt for the local Top 40 Station WEBC, or hear the slightly more urban Top 40 of WLS in Chicago. Even later in the night I could listen to the underground sounds of Beaker Street transmitted from KAAY in Little Rock Arkansas. Through these stations I was transported beyond my small town. Dad and I would quickly catch up on the day, but most of the trip was silent, except for the music. The night sky was limitless. In the pure black of an atmosphere uncluttered by city light, the stars and planets shone. The darkness silhouetted a stand of pines here, a productive iron ore mine there. Every once in a while the Northern Lights would put on a show, dancing to the music on the AM dial. At fifteen I felt the struggle between significance and insignificance. The infinity of that night sky made the answer less apparent. Even with the aural limitations of AM radio, songs would cut through that night sky and introduce me to different musical scenes. The crisp guitar into to "Go All The Way" by The Raspberries represented the Power Pop of Cleveland. Their slightly glam look was how I thought gay men were supposed to look, but I was definitely into men, not them, whether or not they were gay. There were songs about the radio itself, and it's power. You could "Drift Away" to Dobie Gray's song, or Joni Mitchell's "You Turn Me On, I'm A Radio." Many drives I drifted away, and many drives the radio turned me on. Old School and New School clashed on the AM band as Elvis blasted into space with one last great single in "Burning Love." Meanwhile the young upstarts David and Elton took us on a "Space Oddity" with a "Rocket Man". My universe was expanded beyond the whiteness of my small town by War with "The World Is A Ghetto." In that ghetto the Temptations introduced me to a father that was very unlike mine, with "Papa Was A Rolling Stone." And more black voices clued me into love unrequited, immeasurable, and universal through Al Green's "I'm So Tired Of Being Alone" The Stylistics "I'm Stone In Love With You" and The O'Jays' "Love Train." Most of all I remember the Philly Soul Sound of "If You Don't Know Me By Now" by Harold Melvin & The Blue Notes. The strings would slice through the crisp night. The Blue Notes quietly set the mood with their harmonies. Teddy Pendergrass then spent the next 3 minutes testifying, alternating between pleading, and assignation. I was too young to understand it completely, never being in love, but I felt the emotion. Dad would let me listen to my station even though he didn't share my taste in music. We would be alone together in that car, each lost in our own thoughts. He worked for MnDOT, so we were driving the roads he was responsible for. Every once in a while he would reach over to touch me, put his hands on my knee, let me know he loved me. At those moments significance would win out. I was struggling that February night in 2000 with my own significance. February can be a bleak month in the Northland. After months of cold, snow and darkness the soul yearns for a break. Although they are just days on a calendar, we are lucky that February is only twenty-eight days long. In the cruelest irony, this was a leap year, I found myself lost on February 29th. I left work, but couldn't head home. I was trying to avoid the impossible, driving by his house. Something had happened in the last two weeks, something larger than the surface evidence would indicate. I lost Pete somehow, and I wasn't sure if I could get him back. I had tried getting him back, but the daily parcel on the porch was his reminder to me. He was slowly emptying out things that belonged to me. The computer I found there last night was possibly the biggest evidence that he thought we were over. So here I was, my car was full of gas, and I had nowhere to go. I thought of stopping at the diner, but taking a seat at the counter instead of my usual booth with Pete would crush me. I also thought of stopping at "the diner" but hollow sex just wasn't the ticket that night. I finally just decided to drive, see where I ended up. With the help of the oldies station I started along Skyline Parkway, heading north this time. The residential segment of the Parkway had a wide range of architecture to look at, including a few houses that were personal favorites. There was one house perched on the hill top, the virtual twin to Pete's chalet, I quickly looked away. Soon the Parkway entered a green space. I continued along, past Hawk's Ridge, through Seven Bridges Road and when my funk didn't leave me, I drove on. I knew that I could take Old Highway 61 up the north shore of Lake Superior, so I drove on. At 7:00 the oldies station started their 70's at 7 show. Suddenly I was transported back. I was beyond the haze of the city sky, and the darkness was enveloping. The half-moon reflected on the vastness of Lake Superior as I drove north. Each song on the radio reminded me of those drives with my Dad. Years added emotional heft to some of the songs, while others seemed naïve. Twenty-seven years had passed, and I still wondered about significance, insignificance. Each song tied me to my universe. Then about twenty miles north of Duluth, strings cut through the nighttime sky. The Blue Notes started their chorus, and Teddy began to plead. I found the nearest spot, pulled over, I had to, I was forced to. While it wasn't our story, every word hit home. I saw the fine line between tears and rage. "If You Don't Know Me By Now" finally revealed it's meaning to me, and I knew what had to be done. I pulled out my cell phone, no reception, damn. I backed out of my spot, headed south on Scenic 61 with a clear focus. Things that seemed cold and insignificant on the ride north, suddenly showed life. I noticed smoke curling out of a small lake cabin, a remnant of simpler times. Meanwhile a larger new house emitted an amber glow into the ionosphere. A laker was off to my left, heading into port. The songs kept on coming, their voices pushed me on. I got into town, took the Grand Avenue exit and drove through the workingman neighborhoods of a strong city. About five miles from Pete's I heard the opening of "Let It Be". It did "whisper words of wisdom" and gave me hope. Once again I was heading down our road, I pulled into our drive, parked by his truck, and even though I still had the key, I knocked on our door. Pete opened. "I'm not giving up on you this easy" I said as I hugged him in and finally let go of the tears. ********** Pete's story. ********** I don't remember when exactly I felt that I had lost Kyle. However the pain was there in the truth. I had lost him, due to both of us being too proud. At least that is what I kept telling myself. In my heart I blamed me, and me alone. He told me it was all a misunderstanding, I didn't believe him. I was too proud to believe him. It was so easy to go back to my old ways. I had lived over a quarter century without a relationship and I did fine in those years. I didn't need the complications of a man in my life. That was another thing I kept telling myself. Four months ago, I wouldn't even think of me being in love with a man, four months from now it wouldn't matter. So here I was, alone on a Tuesday night, the last February day I would have to suffer this year. I made a simple dinner, thought of turning on the TV, but had no motivation. I thought of playing a game of pool, but the table, his gift, only reminded me of him more. I decided that I could lose myself in some oldies, so I turned on the radio. The 70's at 7 show had just started. I thought of the Seventies as my favorite time, up until my wife left me. The music reminded me of those nights on our wrestling bus as we drove from town to town in our Midwest region. We had a converted Greyhound bus, the accommodations were minimal. Some of the guys would grab some shut eye, but I was never able to. I often found myself up near the front with the bus driver Jim. We would sit and talk about nothing much important. He often thanked me for keeping him awake, sometimes in treacherous driving conditions. He would play the radio softly. Loud enough to keep him awake, yet quietly enough, not to disturb those who were trying to sleep in the back. Most of the times it was background to our friendship. Songs became a part of my life by being there. During a lull in conversation a song might come to the forefront and connect with us. Jim and I didn't have much in common. He was a college student, not interested in wrestling, just there to earn extra income while at UMD. Somehow these pop songs became common ground for us. Every once in a while one would come on that both of us related to, and it would create the lull as we both stopped to listen. As I sat in front of the fireplace listening to the radio I realized that I was thinking about someone I hadn't seen in decades because of a song. What would happen months, years from now if I heard a song that reminded me of Kyle, someone I had loved. Then I heard the music of one of those songs. Every bit of it was like a knife in my heart. The lyrics hit me after the strings. It was one of those songs that I might have sung along to on a different night, but tonight the lyrics hit too close to home. "Just trust in me Like I trust in you As long as we've been together That should be so easy to do" Damn, I had fucked up. Everything we did was based on love and trust, and I doubted both, just long enough to screw up the only love I had really known. I didn't know what to do but I knew I had to do something. I picked up my cell phone to call his home phone, then his cell. No answer at either, fuck, was he avoiding me? That got to me, had I fucked it up completely? I couldn't sit there, I grabbed a jacket and got into my truck. I drove down to Kyle's, no vehicles there. I figured that Charlie and Fred were probably at a meeting with Gino. I thought maybe Kyle had joined Mike at the bar for burgers. I hi-tailed it over there, only to see Mikes truck, no sign of Kyle's car. I momentarily thought of going inside to confront Mike, but I realized I was fueled by jealousy, not the smartest way to win back my man. At least I was thinking of him as my man. I drove home as my pulse calmed down. It was almost back to normal by the time I pulled into our road. Then I heard the start of "Let It Be". I parked the truck, let it idle as I listened, I had no choice. As the last chords faded I turned off the truck and went inside. I sat by the fire, blacked out for a moment until I heard a loud knocking at the door. I opened, Kyle looked at me and said "I'm not giving up on you this easy" We then fell into an embrace, he started crying, I wasn't far behind. ********** Kyle's Story ********** I don't know when we stopped crying, and I don't know when they went from tired tears to tears of happiness caused by being in his arms. I do remember that when I started to speak, he stopped me. "Nothing to be said right now Babe. It is time for our actions to speak for themselves." He picked me up, it couldn't be easy, but he did. He carried me upstairs to our bedroom. Parts of me that felt dead for the last two weeks came alive. He placed me on the bed and started to undress me. Every step was deliberate and loving. He then took off his clothes, his eyes locked on mine. I felt his desire. He too wanted to lose the pain we both had experienced. I laid back, I was ready for anything this man wanted. He climbed onto the bed, straddled me, his dick pressed against my stomach, and my own dick as Pete lowered his face to mine. "I should have never doubted our love Kyle" he whispered then he kissed me. The kiss said more than words ever could. ********** Pete's Story ********** I never needed anything, anyone more, than I needed Kyle at that moment. The words of my apology were short, but I proved them with my kisses. Words can be hollow without truth to back them up. I wanted no doubt in Kyle's mind that I was sorry for what I put him through. We continued to kiss, to caress, to roll around on the comforter, sharing that love. He was my equal in that love, that moment. Hell he was my equal in everything. I remembered his promise months ago to give as good as he got. Kyle always did that. I guess we both pushed each other to be better, we were doing it again right then. I felt the man that was my equal, I held him, I kissed him, he gave in kind. I wanted nothing more than to enter him, to give him my love. But as his equal I had different plans suddenly. ********** Kyle's Story ********** Pete got between my legs, looked me in my eyes. I felt the hunger and love in them, so I bent my knees in anticipation of what was to come. Instead he slowly crawled up between my legs, straddled my chest and dropped the hooded head of his dick in my mouth. He did this in one movement, never losing sight of my eyes. I looked up at my man with love as he fed me his foreskin. I found the taste that I had missed the last few weeks. He smiled at me, letting me know that he enjoyed being back where he belonged. I was enjoying it too, tasting that meaty flesh, knowing the man who offered it to me. I was certain I was there to add spit to his thickness, to ease entrance as he started to make love to me. I was assured of it when he started to gather spit on his fingers. Then he surprised me, he used that hand to reach behind and apply the spit to my dick. Then in one quick move Pete backed himself onto my dick. "Make love to me Kyle. Let's make up for those days where I was an idiot." I couldn't pass up Pete's offer. I started to push up into him as his ass hovered above me. It had been a while since I had fucked him, but he was taking it. I felt him alternate opening and closing his ass as I entered him. I raised up on my elbows, he bent down, our mouths met once again. My knees were bent, I used them as leverage to thrust into his hot ass. I pulled him into my arms, my dick still thrusting into his butt, I am not sure how he did it. He stopped our kisses for a few seconds to hiss out "Gawd I needed this." I leaned forward to continue the kisses then said "So did I". We continued for a few minutes, but I could tell we were both getting uncomfortable. I wanted this moment of love to last before I came. I wanted to feed Pete with every bit of my love. So I motioned for him to pull off, and he got on his side presenting that hot ass to me. I got on my side, leaned over his back for a moment, looked into his eyes as my dick entered his ass. "This is for the man I love, and the man I will always love" With that I started to grind his butt again. Even though I wanted it to last, it didn't take long for me lose it. I started to shoot into Pete's butt. He could feel it and responded with a grin and a throaty "Yeah." Instead of the usual three to five squirts, I kept on. My orgasm became more intense as I unloaded in him. For a minute I thought I was actually beyond coming, it felt like I was pissing in his butt. The warmth and wetness just kept coming. I pulled my cock out for a bit, steadied it, and when I was sure I was okay, I slammed it back home. ********** Pete's Story ********** I wanted to be fucked, I just didn't plan on it being this intense. Maybe it was the lost time being made up, but Kyle fucked me like never before, and when he came he reached new levels. I felt each rush of cum at first, but he seemingly didn't stop cumming. When Kyle pulled out I felt empty for a second, I was ready to cuddle, but he slammed back in. So this is what sloppy seconds feels like. Kyle was like an unleashed animal. At least he was if that animal had a sense of humor. He started to chuckle, I wasn't sure why. I was having fun too. "I think I just filled your butt with two weeks worth of cum Pete" he chuckled. "I hope it was worth the wait. I know it was for me." He twisted his body and mine, went in for a kiss while still grinding on my ass. "Still hard this long after cumming, all because of you babe. He was slowly screwing me, the urgency gone, but the passion still there. "I never plan to be away from you this long again, but I really like how we are making up." My ass was receptive to his love. I loved the connection we had. I got into a simple soothing rhythm of opening and closing my butt. His cock was slick from the cum he had shot earlier so he was sliding around easily, enjoying the heat of my ass. I wanted another dose of his spunk. "Fill me again Kyle, I need my mans cum. I have missed it too long" ********** Kyle's Story ********** Who was I to deny my man's wishes? Pete really made it easy for me. He clenched his ass one more time, creating this excruciating friction on my dick. With both hands I grabbed onto his hairy pecs, and dumped whatever I had left into his ass. Pete responded by gripping my dick with his talented sphincter once again. First one spasm, then four, then three. I smiled, knowing the meaning. I tapped out the same message on his pecs. ********** Pete's Story ********** I felt the tapping on my chest. My heart slowed down to match the tempo. Kyle's dick was still lodged in my butt, I feared what would happen if he pulled out. I reached back to pull him closer. I felt his heartbeat slow down as our breathing returned to normal. It was still early in the night, but I welcomed our trip to dreamland. ********** Kyle's Story ********** The Northern Lights were exceptionally active that night, Green auras changed to blue, then just as quickly to purple, Each color reflected in the blue vinyl dashboard of my Dad's 1973 Dodge. The dance of these spectral wonders matched the pulsing keyboard music that emanated from the car's tinny speakers. Suddenly the oooohs and ahhhs of The Three Degrees filled the interior of our car on that chilly February night. I started to hum along, my dad tapped out the rhythm on his arm rest. We didn't have that many songs in common, but this slice of Philly Soul always brought a smile to his face. The Northern lights went into overdrive, matching the pulsing beat of "When Will I See You Again". For three minutes the entire sky was lit with a shimmering cascade of color. "It's amazing isn't it Kyle? What we take for granted most people will never see. The Aurora Borealis, the timber wolf, a snowy owl in some Jack Pines, a bald eagle fishing. Don't ever lose sight of what is in your back yard as you go after your dream." I looked over at my dad, he winked, patted my knee. "You've grown into quite the fine man Kyle. This is just the beginning young man, it isn't the end" Then suddenly a deer darted out in front of our car. Dad stomped on the brakes causing a calendar to fly off the dash into my lap. I saw that the month of March was filled with green numbers. I quickly put the calendar back on the dash, glanced at the passenger side mirror and saw the 43 year old me staring back. "See, this isn't the end" Dad said, tapping out 1-4-3 as he did so. ********** Pete's Story ********** Something had compelled me to watch my man doze off. We slowly untangled and sleep caught up with him. I had been foolish in losing him, I was going to relish having him back in my life. There was a sliver of moonlight bathing him as he started to dream. A smile crept across his face so I knew it was a good dream. From the living room I heard the faint sound of the radio. I remembered those strings, those oooohs, those ahhhs. I embraced Kyle like I hadn't in weeks while I strained to hear the music. As the music swelled I drummed my fingers gently on his chest to the beat of the rhythm. I remembered all of the lyrics and I hummed along softly as Kyle's smile broadened. I hugged him tighter, tapped our secret code, 1-4-3, then whispered in his ear "This isn't the end Kyle, far from it."