Copyright© 2015 – Nicholas Hall
Hunter’s Lodge on the Osage- Chapter Twelve
“Listen! The wind is rising,
and the air is wild with leaves.
We have had our summer evenings
and now for October eves!”
Grandma and Grandpa Hunter’s visit came to an end much too soon a week later. During that time we’d been fishing, shopping, laughing, and enjoying each other’s company. Wedge found he had nothing to fear from my grandparents concerning our gay, interracial relationship. They were happy we found each other and would soon love him as they did me, as my soul mate and someday spouse since same-sex marriage was rapidly becoming legal in many states and accepted by more and more people, albeit there were still those, for whatever reason, found it difficult or were unwilling to believe two people of the same sex who loved each other could “marry!” It was their sincere belief, those opposed to same-sex marriage, “marriage” meant between man and woman and not man and man or woman and woman.
I felt their reasoning was somewhat misguided, but it was based on their religious faith and they were entitled to that belief; however, most seemed to forget their rights end where Wedge’s and mine begin! Oh well, such are the conflicts of life- over beliefs instead of something more substantial such as a piece of pie!
Before they left, Grandpa said he’d be back in September when grouse season opened and before the end of the month when trout season closed; back again in October for the opening of duck season and salmon fishing on the big lake to the north and; during the November deer season, even though it was over Thanksgiving. Grandma promised she’d make frequent visits as well “now that it just isn’t a hunting or fishing camp, but a home!” We were as excited as they were about having frequent company and their closeness. I was especially since now that Momma was gone, they were my family and I loved them so!
After their departure, Wedge and I spent one day just relaxing and resting in each other’s warm embrace. It wasn’t so much we didn’t have the opportunity to express our love for each other while my grandparents were here, it was more like we felt restrained- perhaps uncomfortable would be a better word – with both of them around. We finally concluded it had nothing to do with our sexual preference, but just the common feeling of self-consciousness young people or lovers often feel at first around their parents, or in our case, my grandparents. I mean, how do you let loose with “God, fuck me deeper, you stud” with grandma and grandpa sleeping just across the hall? No, we discovered further, as all young lovers eventually do, to make love with silent murmurs, close embraces, and fervent kisses, expressing ourselves to one another as lovers have for centuries.
The next weekend, when Tom and Pat were up visiting George and Lou, our feelings were confirmed when they said they’d experienced the same feelings but were soon over them as they, along with family and friends, became more comfortable and secure in each other and those significant others they each knew and loved.
Pat and Tom were wonderful to have as friends. Not only were they mentors, but served us as attorney and advisors to all things we needed to know or questioned. Everyone should be so lucky, I thought!
Wedge and I also spent time making final preparations for our winter at Hunter’s Lodge. Both of us realized, we thought, what isolation the winter snows and storms could bring so, as Grandpa often said, “an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure,” we increased our storage of dry goods, such as sugar, flour, yeast, and other staples (yes, dried beans included along with oatmeal). We also cleaned out the “cave” for use as storage, if we should need it, and as a safe place to shelter in a storm if we needed it as well.
Working together, living together, and being at the Lodge was great, but it was more than just those few things; it was sharing with each other, our thoughts, our dreams, likes and dislikes, and our bodies in love. The sex was great, intense and given as a true and free expression of our love for each other! It was, as it should be in any relationship, consensual; more often than not, I was the one to initiate the intimacy. I am a self-confessed bottom when it comes to Wedge. Whether on my back, my stomach, or my side (any position for that matter), there was something so satisfying and fulfilling about having Wedge’s cock buried balls deep into my inner core, massaging me, bringing me to a heart-stopping climax as he poured forth his copious, thick, white semen into me. He seldom wilted right away, sometimes not at all, and if at night, we would fall asleep joined together and while we slept, his cock still hard, begin his gentle thrusting again. I’d awaken, sigh, and scooch my butt even closer to his crotch so I could accommodate his considerable length, reveling in the depth it penetrated and the excitement it evoked in me!
But more than the sex, it was also just that comforting feeling of lying in bed, before drifting off to sleep, my head resting on Wedge’s chest or tucked under his arm, and listening to the soft “thump, thump” of his heart or the rhythmic pattern of his breathing as he rested in slumber. I’d soon fall asleep; safe, knowing my love was near and protecting me with his warmth, strength, and love. I knew I’d awaken the same way, wrapped in his embrace; I also knew it’d be the same way the rest of our lives.
While we worked outside or inside the house, his shy smile would captivate me and tell me more about how he felt than a thousand words spoken or written, scribbled lovingly on scraps of paper or carried melodiously in song; an embrace from him, a gentle kiss, or a soft bump on the shoulder would telegraph his emotional attachment to me and transmit mine in return more than the humming of telegraph wires, radio waves, or television signals. Life with Wedge was indeed, life indeed!
Grandpa’s first trip up in September was a combination grouse hunting and fishing trip. Since Wedge didn’t hunt and had no desire to, Grandpa made certain to set aside time for the two of them to trout fish or hit the lakes for walleye, as well as spend time with me grouse hunting. I was welcome to go with them, but I wanted Wedge and Grandpa to know each other better. After all, Wedge’s grandfather and mine had been best friends for many years and I wanted, selfishly, I’m certain, Grandpa to know why Wedge is my best friend as well as life-partner.
Grandpa was thrilled to have someone who could cook and Wedge delighted us with roasted grouse, baked Northern Pike, broiled trout, and deep-fried walleye fillets. One evening, he fired up the grill, split three grouse in half, basted them with olive oil, seasoned them with pepper, salt, and a touch of garlic powder and grilled them. Served with grilled vegetables and cranberry sauce, they were mouth-watering.
We had grand time fishing with Grandpa Hunter, but soon he had to return to Green Bay and we had returned to our normal routine, which now included stoking the outdoor wood furnace in the morning and in the evening before we called it a day.
Our evenings were spent reading, playing chess or checkers (Wedge could best me handily at each) or just snuggling on the couch, enjoying each other’s company. No matter what we did, it seemed all the more enjoyable because we had each other. Grandpa Hunter promised he’d be back the end of September to finish the trout season and stay for the opening of the duck season. Wedge was looking forward to fishing the streams with him one more time before the trout season ended; Wedge really loved fishing!
The opening of duck season meant I needed to check the anchor lines on the three to four dozen mallard decoys we had in the shed, the four dozen bluebill decoys, and reconstruct the two duck blinds on the marsh at the edge of Lodge property. The anchor lines proved to be in fine shape, so we loaded the mallard decoys in the small jon boat we used for duck hunting, hauled it, with the ATV, to the marsh, and rebuilt the two blinds; one on each side of the marsh to take advantage of the prevailing winds. Satisfied all was ready, we were anticipating a few days to ourselves when Tom Sutton gave Wedge a call on his cell phone.
“Wedge,” Tom began, “I need you to come to Madison so we can meet with some Illinois state investigators and their attorneys. They want to depose you in regards to Pittman. I’ll have a plane pick you up at the Regional Airport near Willow Run and fly you to Madison where I’ll meet you. Should be just an overnight and then home again; okay?”
Wedge questioned Tom on why the meeting was to be held in Madison and Tom explained he was trying to keep Wedge’s actual location as concealed as possible. Acting as Wedge’s attorney was a natural since Wedge’s grandfather was a friend of Tom Hunter, founder of the law firm which bears his name and where Tom is employed. Personally, I didn’t think it would take a mental genius to put two and two together and come up with the conclusion Wedge was being hidden away somewhere where the Hunter Law Firm could quickly lay a hand on him and that just might prove to be Wedge’s downfall. It made me nervous to say the least!
“Can Jeremy come along?”
Tom advised against it; “No sense in giving anyone who might be curious unnecessary clues to your where-a-bouts!”
Neither of us was looking forward to the separation, but if Pittman was to going to be brought to justice and Wedge’s name cleared, this was a necessary step. I didn’t say anything to Wedge, but I hoped it wouldn’t be a trap and he’d be spirited away back to Illinois as a “person of interest” or “material witness.”
Three days later, early in the morning, I drove Wedge to the Regional Airport where he boarded a private, twin-engine prop plane and left for Madison. Tears streamed down my face all the way back to the Lodge. Night and bedtime was a lonely and cold time for me with Wedge not cuddled up next to me or messing in the kitchen. I slept fitfully, worried he might not return. I paced the floor, not because of my concern for him but for shear lack of companionship. I’d become so accustomed to his presence and now truly felt as if part of me was missing – a part which I could not be without! I vowed then never to be separated from him and looked forward to the day we both turned eighteen and could be legally married. It’d make our relationship permanent and announce to the world our love for each other!
Yet, before all of this could be fully meaningful, we had to slay the dragons haunting our past; Harvey and Pittman needed to be dwelt with and our fears put to rest!
Wedge called the next morning, saying to meet him at the airport around five in the afternoon. When I asked how it went, all he would say was “I’ll tell you all about it when I get home,” then added, “I love you so, Jeremy, I can hardly wait!”
I voiced my love for him and promised to be at the airport at the appointed hour. Hell, I was there by four o’clock, just in case he came home early. Well, he didn’t; only adding to my anxiety, but it shouldn’t have, because the twin-engine aircraft touched down almost at five o’clock. It taxied to the gate and I waited inside for Wedge to deplane and make it through to the waiting room in the main terminal.
Carrying his overnight bag and wearing a “shit-eating grin,” he dropped his bag and grabbed me tight to his body as I almost leaped into his arms and smothered his face with my kisses! Pulling back a bit, he giggled, “Happy to see me, are you?”
You damn betcha I was and I didn’t care who knew it! We gathered a few odd looks from others in the airport terminal, but I didn’t know or care, for that matter, whether it was two guys kissing, a black guy and a white guy kissing, or just two people in love that brought their glances and stares, but if they disapproved, then they needed to get a life!
On the way home, Wedge filled me in on the proceedings. Tom Sutton met him at the airport, drove him to another attorney’s office where he met with the state investigators from Illinois. From the onset, Tom made it clear, before he even allowed Wedge into the room, they would make no effort to take him into custody, for whatever reason, and he’d be given immunity from prosecution if any action he’d taken by fleeing the state was considered against the law in Illinois. Once the ground rules were established, Tom produced the written permission, signed by Wedge’s mother, to give testimony, in the presence of his attorney, regarding Wedge’s involvement with Pittman.
“They asked me my name, place of residence; I only gave them my Illinois address with Mom since Tom didn’t want the location where you and I lived revealed. They seemed satisfied with that.”
“We went through the usual; my age, where I used to work, if I’d ever been in trouble with the law, whether I was a high school graduate, and mostly stuff they could have gotten the answers to from my school records or other places. I think they were sort of testing me to see if I was telling the truth.”
“Finally, one guy asked if I knew the difference between right and wrong and whether my eyesight was any good. Now, I thought that was stupid and said so! They were both white guys which made me think they weren’t too fond of black folk, but later they told me they were only doing their job.”
According to Wedge, the investigators finally got down to the “nut-cutting” as Grandpa Hunter would say; what caused Wedge to be in the alley that particular night. Was he seeking to buy drugs; going for a smoke, and who or what did he see while there? How did he know it was Pittman? Who was the other guy? What were they wearing? The alley was dimly lighted, how could he see what was going on? How far was he from them? Was he certain Pittman shot the other man intentionally and not in self-defense? Where did the weapon come from? How could he be certain Pittman saw him? Wasn’t this just all a figment of his imagination to get attention after he saw news broadcasts of the event?
“They must have asked me a dozen times,” Wedge said, “if there was another person in the alley besides Pittman and the victim. Each time I answered I didn’t see anyone; of course I was scared shitless at the time and really wasn’t looking for anyone else. They asked me if I was actually the killer of the victim or was I totally innocent and trying to shift the blame to Pittman. If I was innocent, then why did I flee the state?”
“Well, duh! I told them I didn’t think a black teenager would stand a chance against a white, veteran cop and I’d be dead before I could testify. Pittman saw me and recognized me from the restaurant where I worked. I told them the only reason he put a bulletin out for me was so he could dump me in the Chicago River. Thanks but no thanks! They hammered away on that until Tom called it a day.”
“This morning, they revived it all again and after a couple of hours seemed finally satisfied with the answers I gave and let me go. I’ll have to go back to Illinois to testify if they indict Pittman, according to Tom, for murder,” Wedge said sadly. “Tom said they’ll do all they can to protect me, but Jeremy, I’m scared!”
I understood how he felt, but both of us knew, if we were going to put a stop to this kind of bullshit people like Pittman committed, he’d have to do it. However, he wasn’t going to go alone, I was going with him! I read somewhere “evil will prevail when good people everywhere do nothing,” so we’ll stick together, held fast by our love and do what we must!
I’d taken a couple of steaks out of the freezer, hoping Wedge would take over in the kitchen (he did) and fixed us a great meal of steak, twice-baked potatoes, baked French onion soup, garden salad, and apple pie for desert. We had the pie in the free freezer so all we had to do was pop it in the oven and bake it.
We sat on the couch after dinner, holding each other, saying nothing, but allowing our lips to contact as a manner of communicating how we felt. Bedtime brought our intimacy to full fruition; naked, we stroked each other’s warm bodies, bringing shivers of delight and desire to each of us. My lips, engaged with his, vacated those moist sensors and began softly, lightly kissing down his slim, warm tantalizing body until I reached my favorite toy; his now turgid, throbbing penis, where I engaged the head, slipping my tongue around the glans, tickled the slit, moved lower and slowly separately sucked each sperm-filled egg-sized testicle into my mouth, worshipping each as producers of what would soon be swimming into my inner depth.
Finally, I rolled to my back, spread my legs, pulled him forward until his stiffness encountered my waiting portal, wrapped my legs about his lower back, and eased him into me until he was fully and properly seated!
Fall was upon us and my love was upon and in me; my life was complete!
To be continued:
Thank you for reading Hunter’s Lodge on the Osage- Chapter Twelve- “Listen! The wind is rising, and the air is wild with leaves….” (Humbert Wolfe)
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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