West Otter Lake

Copyright© 2013 – Nicholas Hall


West Otter Lake – Chapter Twenty-Eight - "Graze on my lips, and if those hills be dry, stray lower, where pleasant fountains lie." – (Shakespeare –King Henry VI, Part II, Act V, line 229.)

During the night I woke, uneasy, anxious, and lying there, I knew not why. Mae called around eight o'clock in the evening, some four to five hours previously, informing us they'd reached Des Moines and were at Deshone's. They sent us their love and said all was well there so that wasn't what was bothering me. The Lodge was quiet, the inhabitants, sans me, were apparently deep in slumber. I wasn't so certain about Loren and Craig however. When Leandro and I went to bed, they were cuddled on the couch in front of the fireplace and, if I didn't miss my bet, within ten minutes of the rest of us trooping upstairs to bed, Loren had Craig's pants hitched down and had about seven inches of himself snuggly buried in a warm place; a place guaranteed to bring him off and Craig with him.

Leandro, sleeping soundly beside me, softly snored in his pleasant, lovable way, causing me to hesitate in getting up from bed because, odds are, nine out of ten, he'd wake up, missing me and worried about my safety. The attack on Ollie, Luis, and me really affected all of our lives and relationships. We became so much more aware of each other, our security, and our attachments. Hoping he would stay asleep, I rose, walked (bare-assed as usual) to the French doors leading from our bedroom to the small balcony overlooking the lake and looked out.

It was snowing! Not a light, fluffy, relaxing snowfall, but hard, small, driving flakes portending to a large, ass-busting, heart-attack causing storm! Grandpa Johnson always said "Big snow, little snow- little snow, big snow" when referring to storms. If there were big, fluffy, flakes he thought we wouldn't get much. If, however, the snowfall consisted of smaller, driving flakes, we were going to get a shit-pot load. He was usually right.

"Those little snowflakes are piling up into a really big bunch," commented Leandro from behind me, as he wrapped his arms around me, pulling my chilling body up against his bare warmth.

Resting his head on my shoulder, we stood luxuriating in each other's presence and comfort. I was secure in his embrace and with him, satisfied he was protecting me from all harm and would do so at sacrifice of his own safety.

"Good thing Mae and Cedric left when they did. This storm came earlier than the weather people predicted," I said softly, leaning my face against his.

"And we made the trip to town," he added. "This storm could button things up for a while."

The snow was beautiful, as all new-fallen snow can be, but we'd already seen our share of winter, so this storm meant work and lots of it. Good thing the boys were home and Loren, a teacher in Otter Lake Elementary School, was on Christmas break to help. We stood a few more minutes watching the snow fall. It was nice, being held by my lover, my spouse, in our own home, inhabited by those we loved. I could also feel him rise to the occasion, and not to propose a toast either. Turning slowly, I kissed his sweet lips and tasted his moist, delicate flavor, nuzzled his nips, gently sucking each one to a tautness, and began kissing my way south.

Once on my knees, I gripped the velvety stiffness of his manly tool and guided it to my lips, using them to slip his foreskin all the way back as I slowly engulfed the throbbing head, suctioning in the start of his pre-cum oozing from the small orifice in it. How pleasant his taste is to me! Using my tongue I tickled and tantalized his cum slit, while softly fondling his egg-shaped baby-makers between my thumb and forefinger, tightening the scrotum through my actions, firming them closer to his body.

Leandro began a gentle, but urgent thrusting, timing them with my elevator mouth action up and down his smooth shaft – a practice well perfected over the years and is thoroughly delightful to him. His breathing became more rapid and he grasped my head, signaling an urgency to spew, so I quickly inserted my middle finger up into his wrinkled, brown pucker and twitched his prostate several times with a quick "flick, flick, flick" bringing jets of his thick, white, ropey white protein into my waiting orifice. Rolling each thick, stringy, delicious morsel on my tongue just before swallowing and applying more suction, I was able to devoid his balls of all he currently had to offer.

He raised me quickly to my feet, shot to his knees, knowing my climax was not far in the distant future, and engulfed my throbbing rod, bringing me to fruition. Pulling back, he rose, grasped me closely to him, kissed me and shared my essence with his, still lingering on my tongue as he swept it delicately with his.

Oddly, Leandro and I woke early the next morning in spite of our midnight love making. The storm still raged, seemingly more intense than during the night, more savage in nature, and defiantly depositing more snow on the already white landscape than the forecasters predicted. We slipped on sweat pants and shirts and descended the stairs to the Great Room. The Lodge was quiet, save for the storm buffeting the outside; all of the boys, Craig, and Loren were still sound asleep. We walked to the kitchen and I made coffee while Leandro, after bundling up in parka and boots, struggled through the blinding snow to the wood shed and the outdoor furnace to stoke it for the day. His clothes were caked with the white, heavy, wet snow and soon sopped the cloth as it melted, dripping on the floor of the mud room while he disrobed.

"It's a bitch out there! The snow is almost to my knees and there are no signs the storm is going to let up. Have you seen a forecast for today yet?"

I hadn't bothered to turn the television on. During storms such as this one, all we get is a "complete loss of satellite signal" message; indicating either the satellite dish is full of snow or the weather is interfering with the signal shot down from space. I hoped it was just a dish full of snow. Leandro, bless his soul, bundled himself up in his wet togs and trudged outside. Using a long pole tipped with a small brush, he was able to cleanse the dish of the accumulated snow. Mission accomplished, he trekked back into the kitchen. Within five minutes we had reception on the television and I had a very wet, cold Leandro.

I thought I should do my very best I could to warm him up so, after bringing him to a very admirable and twitching erection with my lips and tongue, I leaned forward, shimmied my sweat pants down to my ankles, and offered myself to my lover. Just as he was in position to skewer me like a kabob for the grill, Ollie and Luis, naked except for their sleep shorts, popped into the kitchen.

"Whoa!" uttered Ollie in surprise.

"Hey, Brother," chimed in Luis, "Congratulations, I see you passed your undertaker's exam!"

Leandro, halted just short of the intended, hot, fiery target, tilted his head toward his brother and snorted, "What?"

"Looks like you're intending on burying a stiff!" giggled Luis.

"At least six feet deep by the looks of the spade you're using," chortled Ollie.

Leandro stood upright and, with his "spade" swaying to and fro, strode indignantly from the kitchen, muttering, "Smart asses!" as he passed the boys.

Luis and Ollie collapsed in each others arms, howling with laughter. Terell and Treyvon, bounded into the kitchen, quizzical expressions on their faces.

"What's up guys?"

"Why'd Leandro go trotting up the stairs with his twanger twitching?"

I looked at the boys, clad in their baby-blue knit boxer briefs, while trying to decide if I should tell them what occurred or let Ollie or Luis, thinking, if my eyes weren't deceiving me, they were in the process of – well, developing. Their sprigs were no longer sprigs poking the front of the briefs, but more of the sapling variety.

Ollie and Luis finally recovered from their giggling fit enough for Luis to answer them.

"We interrupted your brother and my brother about to engage in what one might say would be a compromising situation."

"Sort of like two dogs humping in the park?" quizzed Terell.


"Well, why didn't you throw a bucket of cold water on them?" giggled Treyvon. "Hopefully, Conner won't crap out little puppies."

Need I mention that set off the whole laughing jag again, only this time there were four boys laughing, so I announced, "Lots of snow boys, so when it quits, we have roofs to shovel."

My announcement was met with a collective groan! Shoveling roofs clear of snow to lessen the load and hopefully prevent damage is always a great time- at first. After the second or third time, it can be tedious and just plain, outright work! Be that as it may, with the amount of snow falling and the already accumulated amount on the ground from previous storms, there would be plenty of cushioning white stuff around the cabins for at least one or perhaps two or three, slides off of the roofs on boy butts when we actually began the process of cleaning up. It's no different now than when I was their age; I enjoyed it and now they do.

Standing in the kitchen, enjoying each other's company, our laughter and friendly banter was interrupted by a "swoosh" and a loud "thump," followed immediately by the rattling of dishes in the cupboards as gravity relieved the roof of the buildup of snow on the Lodge's metal roof. These "avalanches" of snow occurred as the snow built up on the roof. Nature did the rest, preventing roof and structure damage to the Lodge. However, one had to be damned careful outside and not linger long near the eaves. Getting caught under one of those "avalanches" could prove harmful.

Craig and Loren came into the kitchen dressed and ready for the day. Loren poured Craig a cup of coffee and one for himself, handed it to Craig and winked. I caught it and commented, "Well, you two don't look any worse for wear considering you must have stayed up late."

"Not him!" Craig retorted. "I wish I could say the same for me. There's a part of me that that speaks a different story."

With that, I shooed the boys off to get dressed, with the admonition, "We're having waffles and smoked venison kielbasa for breakfast so speed it up."

Evidently, Leandro met the boys on the way up the stairs as he was coming down and overheard me. "Waffles, huh? I can help with that."

Leandro loved to cook and work in the kitchen as much as he enjoyed carpentry and working around the Resort. It didn't take him long to have batch of waffle batter ready and the two commercial waffle irons heating up, ready for the batter. We would keep the waffles warm in the oven until the boys came back down stairs to eat. Craig took four rings of kielbasa from the freezer and thawed them in the microwave. Loren cut them up, placed the chunks on metal tray, and popped them under the broiler. Once those chunks of spiced sausage were steaming hot, dripping with the goodness and tastes of the forests and glades where the creature once lived, they'd go very well with the steaming, hot waffles we were going to have for breakfast.

Craig busy with the knife and meat trays looked over at me and raised his eyebrows.

"Before Loren and I came downstairs, we heard on the radio the Regional Airport at Parsonville was closed around seven this morning. The last flight in was a commuter flight from Chicago. According to the broadcast, it had one chance to land before the tower closed the place down. All others, if the radio is correct, are being diverted to other airports until this storm quits and they can get the runways cleaned."

"Yeah," added Loren, "the county pulled its plows from all the highways and won't go back out until the storm abates – too dangerous for the drivers according to the County Highway Commissioner."

"I better check the generator," Leandro said half-aloud, "right after breakfast."

Breakfast was leisurely this morning; no school buses to catch, not much to do outside because of the storm, and the start of a long day of confinement. I suggested the boys clean their rooms if they were in search of something to do or, knowing them as I did, just take it easy and enjoy the day. Their rooms are never untidy anyway so there wouldn't be much cleaning to do. Mae did a great job in instilling some good habits in her grandsons and Luis was a bit of a neat-freak anyway. As a result, he and Ollie got on famously when it came to housekeeping.

The snow didn't seem to let up; in fact just the opposite, increasing in intensity throughout the morning, giving me concern for the continuation of electrical power to the Lodge. Leandro was prepared for any eventuality after assuring himself and me the generator was functioning just fine and would kick in if there was a power failure.

Around eleven o'clock the telephone rang and Leandro answered it. Once he hung up, he motioned to Craig and Loren to bundle up and give him a hand.

"What's up?" I asked, curious why they would be tromping out into the storm.

"That was Roy Wagoner, the DNR Warden. He's stuck on the county road at the end of our drive and asked if we could pull him out. He's not going anywhere, so extended the invitation for him to ride it out here. Roy sounded happy to say `Yes' so we're going to have another house guest for a while."

We had two spare rooms upstairs since Craig and Loren moved in next door to Leandro and me when the Twins took over Luis' bedroom when he moved in with Ollie, so Roy was more than welcome. He was not only the fish and game law enforcement officer in our area but also a good friend. After they left to get the equipment out and head down the lane, I wondered what in the world would've brought Roy out in this horseshit weather. I know he's out and about in all kinds of weather, but this was extreme! I could only hope he wasn't in pursuit of anyone poaching or other criminal activities.

The boys, hearing the phone and all the chatter, bounded down the stairs, curious and just as puzzled as me. I told them what Leandro relayed to me concerning Roy and then held up my hand in warning they weren't to go out and help; I needed them here and besides, Leandro, Craig, and Loren could handle it.

It took about an hour for Leandro and Company, using the plow blade and pickup truck and the tractor's front-end loader, to dig Roy out and pull his state pickup truck to a spot near the shop. Ollie and Luis pulled a package of pre-formed frozen hamburger patties from one of the freezers. I figured a couple of burgers apiece, along with fries, would be a quick and easy lunch. Rather than use the grill, I had them put the burgers and fries on trays and slide them in the oven. Cooking them this way would save some cleanup and help warm the kitchen and Lodge as well. Leandro mentioned we'd have a pot roast, now thawing in the fridge, for supper, so burgers for lunch would be just fine. With Roy, there'd be nine for lunch. Treyvon and Terell set the table and made another pot of coffee for the adults, as well as putting out glasses for milk for themselves, Ollie, and Luis.

Leandro was first through the door, then Craig, Loren and, finally Roy – and a boy! The Asian boy was wearing dark sunglasses and appeared to be about Treyvon and Terell's age. All five were covered in snow and wet. Before I could inquire who the boy was or for everyone to take their wet duds off, Roy spoke up, "Many thanks, Conner; I just couldn't go any further. Oh, this is my grandson, Peter Jacob Li, my daughter's son. He flew in on the last flight this morning and will be living with us!"

To be continued


Thank you for reading "West Otter Lake – Chapter Twenty-Eight - "Graze on my lips, and if those hills be dry, stray lower, where pleasant fountains lie." – (Shakespeare –King Henry VI, Part II, Act V, line 229.)

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Nick Hall


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