Independence Day

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.

 

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Independence Day Part 2

"Dividends"

July 4^th, 1999

"No fucking way!"

I scrolled through the figures on Jimmy's computer. His chair touched mine, his right arm was on my shoulder, he leaned in to point out the bottom line.

"No fucking way!" I repeated, shaking my head.

"D'ya mean you had no idea how much your share of the business was worth?"

"I didn't want to be bothered. I told Randy I didn't want to touch it. Randy set me up with his accountant, who kept reinvesting it and doing my taxes. But, damn!"

Now, I'll be honest. I probably wouldn't have been sitting there naked, with a hot man, looking at financial reports, if I had my druthers. We'd probably still be outside, rolling around on the blue, log cabin patterned quilt my Mom had made for Jimmy 25 years before.

But during our rolling, and kissing, and whatever, I started to do the math in my head. Six-hundred feet of lakeshore property on a Northern Minnesota lake, near Duluth, and the Twin Cities, wasn't cheap. Add in the solar panels on the roof, modern solar shower, and a computer system that could take NASA to Mars, and the bill was beyond the budget of a chimp who climbed telephone poles for my first cousin, once removed, H.C. Halverson.

No doubt he made some money off my image, but I knew from my writing experience, that was a pittance. As we laid, looking at the clouds, Jimmy spun a tail that made my head spin.

July 1927, or thereabouts:

Elijah Ryden was employed in Southern Minnesota, by the owner of a rural phone company. At the time, he was convinced that giving the phone company's customers the best quality, meant they needed modern glass insulators on their telephone poles. He sold the idea to his boss, the owner of the phone company. Money was invested, but when additional revenue didn't immediately come in, he suddenly felt his job was threatened.

He still knew that he could do a better job running the phone company than his boss did, however, so he plotted a new scheme. In these days before rural electrification, most utilities were done on a co-op basis. In the case of the phone company, that meant anyone who had a phone, automatically had one or two shares of company stock, depending on the type of line they had.

Elijah began traveling the countryside to meet farmers, offering to buy their shares for sixty cents on the dollar. Many refused at first, but Elijah was quick to point out that their shares were giving them no dividends, and their service was not dependent on owning shares. Within two days, he had enough stock in the phone company to have controlling interest. He promptly fired his boss, and took over the company.

July 1932:

Elijah Ryden was summering in Pequadna, enjoying the fishing the region had to offer. While at the Pequadna Café for breakfast one morning, he suddenly saw his chance. "Does anyone know of a phone company for sale in these parts?"

As chance had it, a fellow fisherman had three exchanges for sale, Pequadna, and two others. Since the rural Northern Minnesota community was hit hard by the depression, Elias could buy the three, sight unseen, for a small price. He moved his wife and family north, while keeping controlling interest in the Southern Minnesota phone company.

Within a year, he sold one of three exchanges, and invested in land to create better phone service. Fishing took up most of his time in the summer, so years later when his daughter started dating H.C. Halverson, he offered him a job to maintain the lines.

`My little monkey,' he'd call him. `My little monkey' saw the benefit of Pequadna's hilly terrain, and bought as much property as possible near its high points. Years go by as H.C. marries Elias' daughter, Maureen, then systematically sires seven off-spring.

July 1970:

H.C. and Maureen built a home, five sevenths of their way through building their brood. It was located on one of the high spots in Pequadna. We called it the Brady Bunch home, since it was very similar to their home on TV. There, H.C. spent his free time building a playland for his kids, and their friends.

This was the part of the story I knew about. I spent many a summer day on their rope swing or in their underground fort. Families today spend big money to take a zipline, I could do it for free. This part of the story didn't boggle my mind, the rest did.

His kids, my second cousins, are taught self-sufficiency, and independence, and when it becomes clear that none of the seven, want to follow in H.C.'s footsteps. Jimmy, AKA Chimp, is cemented as H.C.'s right hand man. With each year, his stock in the phone company grows.

So, what comes next? Cell phones do. As rural exchanges die off left and right in the shadows of the new technology, H.C. sold lease rights to his properties, to cell phone companies who then built cell relay towers. The windfall means that the H.C. Halverson clan has many more digits in their bank account. Jimmy's own bank account reaps the dividends, too.

July 4^th, 1999:

As I was looking at my shares from Randy's computer software company, APA, I leaned back in my chair, and shook my head.

"Crazy, huh?" Jimmy said. "I only have to work, because I like it. I shimmy up the poles for all the land lines, but make the big bucks from the cell companies. And no one in town knows about it."

Many of the trust fund bears that I had fucked, were quick to share their story and lineage, and details of their wealth. A few, usually those whose parents were extremely wealthy, hid that aspect. Dale, was one of the former, the Doughboy's grandson, the latter.

I put my arms around Jimmy, and hugged him tighter, then perused the computer screen. The creak of the screened door was followed by a quick "KE-E-E-E-R-I-I-I-ST, put some clothes on will ya?"

I knew that voice anywhere. It had a deep, yet acrid quality that I long ago had decided, sounded like spent coffee grounds. Not fancy coffee grounds either, but spent Folger's coffee grounds.

We stood. "For god sakes H.C., this is my house. You saw the signal. You knew I'd be naked."

"Dammit, Chimp, you move fast, even if you got a slow start," H.C. said. He nodded to me "I see you're a chip off the old cock, huh? Yer dad always showed up everyone in the gym shower, or when we'd go skinny dippin'."

"What the fuck do ya want, Boss?" Jimmy finally said.

"You're the boss now. I was just inviting you to join us on the pontoon tonight for the fireworks. Bring the boyfriend. I know Maria was upset he hasn't been by The Asylum."

The Asylum was one of the outward signs that the H.C. Halverson clan had some money. A comfortable cabin on four hundred feet of lake shore, wasn't cheap. Sure, there were newer, showier homes on the lake, but The Asylum was more welcoming than all of them. H.C. purchased it a few years back, and it became ground central for post Fourth of July activities.

"Tell Maria, and the rest, we'll be there soon," I finally said.

H.C. sniffed the air. "Take a shower first. I'm sure she'll figure out that you two have been boinking, but you don't need to telegraph it."

"It'll have to be a quick one, I think we used all the hot water during our earlier shower."

"Dammit, Chimp, you know that I approve, but I don't need every fucking detail. Speaking of which, you might want to clean up the mess you left on that quilt outside."

As quickly as he entered, H.C. left. We grabbed the lube from the quilt, then hung the quilt on the line next to the blue and white beach towel. "That's my signal to the Boss that I might be naked," he said while pointing to the towel.

We had a quick, lukewarm shower, then dressed. We jumped in Jimmy's boat, I untied it and pushed us away from the dock. The Evinrude motor sputtered to life and we started our leisurely tour of the lake.

"Boss, huh?" I said looking at him. "What other secrets are you withholding from me?"

"Just one big one, and you already know the truth there. I love you Halverson, and I always have. I couldn't face my feelings for a long time, and when I did, I thought you were un-available. I saw all the pics of you at Bear events. I saw the guys you hung out with. I couldn't compete with them. Then when I heard what Dale did to you, I thought I had a chance. But I was just as certain that you were off to the next conquest."

"Next conquest, huh? Was my life that shallow?"

"Sorry, that was rude. But then again, I knew you weren't shallow, though your life may have been. Our editor was my one connection with the Bear world. He told me you had gone off the grid in the Bear world this last year. He convinced me I had a chance, and convinced me to start exploring myself. We went to Bear Pride together this May. It was so strange, I saw my artwork everywhere, but no one knew who I was. Guys all around me were marketing themselves, creating their brand, while the man with the most recognizable brand there, was in their midst, anonymously."

"A. Non. I guess it worked," I smiled. "Why now? Why are you suddenly ready for me now?" I asked.

"Because I finally have `Fuck You' money." Jimmy smiled at me. "I told H.C. two years ago to go fuck himself when he mentioned one of the women in town. I finally had enough money where I no longer needed to work, and I thought he'd do his own hostile takeover and fire me, but he made me the boss instead."

"Chimp," he said to me in his coffee ground voice. "Ain't it `bout time you go after my cousin's kid and live the life you were meant to live?"

"No, fucking way!" I said. Frankly I was doubly amazed that Jimmy thought of H.C.'s voice the same way I did. "You mean H.C. is one of the reasons you showed up for the Fourth this year?"

"Pequadna hasn't done the greased pole climb in years. Remember, I'm the boss. I donated that prize money on the pole. All you had to do was show up."

"Fuck you" money, huh?" I laughed.

"You saw the bottom line. You have "fuck you" money too. Though I'd do it for free," he grinned.

Jimmy slowed the motor down to trolling speed. We saw a family of loons to the right. "Their nest is in the reeds on my property," he said as we crawled by. "I've built our nest, I can't say I can give you babies, but I have a feeling both of us are willing to try."

It was getting warm on the lake. Jimmy unbuttoned his shirt, allowing the breeze to cool his fur. He absentmindedly tweaked a nipple while he piloted the boat a safe distance past the loons, and then opened throttle again.

"So, what do you say?"

He glanced to The Asylum in the distance, then turned me. I was silent.

"Worried about sullying the Halverson name?"

"Not one bit."

"Good enough for me," he said, then gunned the motor. From our vantage point we could see people shielding their eyes from the sun, trying to identify the incoming boat. As we got closer I saw half a dozen, second-cousins approaching the dock.

We pulled along the right side of the dock, and tied down Jimmy's boat. Maria was the first to greet us. "About frickin' time Frick and Frack," she said, then hugged us. When she hugged me she whispered, "It's easier to build a relationship on love, isn't it?"

We made it through the hug gauntlet, then walked up to the cabin. The deck was filled with more Halversons, yet we could find two empty seats. H.C. Jr. the pragmatic one, simply shook our hands as we sat. "You're both looking well," he said.

"As always, a man of few words," I replied. A hint of a smile broke his stoic face.

Off in the corner I spied Kyle Hansen. He raised a glass to Jimmy and me, nodding silently. Over the years I had seen Kyle at Bear events, but always in passing. Minnesota Nice meant we were courteous and welcoming to others, but often dispassionate with people we knew. Kyle graduated one year after me, in a similar, small class, and yet when I saw him outside of Pequadna, we avoided each other for some reason.

"Eat up," Maria said. "We don't want any leftovers for the bears."

"You got enough Bears here, you needn't worry," Kyle said.

I winked at Kyle, and nudged for Jimmy to follow me inside. The table was spread with typical Minnesota potluck fare. I saw cheesy party potatoes, seven-layer salad, wild rice hot-dish, and bars of all sorts. "The only thing missing is Tater Tot Hot-dish," I said to Jimmy.

"It's warming in the oven," Kyle said.

I glanced up, and hugged my old friend. "Damn you look good, buddy. So great to see you."

"What you really mean to say is "So great to see you without the ex," he smiled.

Bingo! Kyle nailed it. His ex was a controlling ass-hat as far as I was concerned. We moved in similar circles, yet it seemed like when there was a chance to catch up, Kyle was ushered away.

"Great shirt by the way. A. Non, is a genius who should claim his work," Kyle said, as he turned to Jimmy. "It's about time you claimed your man too."

When our plates were full, we walked outside, grabbed a few beers, and sat under a tree. Kyle told us of his break-up and decision to move back to Minnesota.

"This place is heaven, I considered living here for a bit, but I finally decided to move to Duluth. It's taken me a few years to shake him off, but I'm putting down roots in the Twin Ports. The only thing missing is someone to share it with."

Kyle looked at the kids playing in the lake, then back at us. "I want what you two will have. It's about fucking time, you guys figured it out."

I watched a boat speed by. In the length of time it was in my vision, everything became clear. Unlike Jimmy, I didn't have "Fuck you" money, I had "Fuck you" life. For once I wasn't concerned what the 5% were thinking about me. I wasn't concerned about the Halverson name in general, nor the E.M. Halverson the Fourth, name specifically. I could be penniless, and still feel this way. I had one authentic life to live. It was time to live it.

"Kyle, if you get a chance at love like this. Don't run from it," Jimmy said. He smiled, then shook his head. "Or more accurately, don't hide."

"Says the guy who draws nekkid guys under the name A. Non," Kyle laughed. "I get it, buddy. Most of us have an identity we perv under, don't we I.I. Hill? Tell me, what does your name mean anyway?"

"It Is Hill-y," I replied.

"Funny, I'd never have guessed that. Truth be told, I spunked off more than few loads to your stories and Jimmy's drawings before I figured it out. One of the characters sounded suspiciously like that well-hung basketball ref from the Range. I read that story a dozen times, before I remembered that you used to write, Halverson, and that Jimmy would illustrate your stories After that point I'd read your stories wondering what teacher or classmate inspired them. I've been meaning to write my own story based on my brief infatuation with a local pro wrestler."

"Sounds hot," I replied. "You gotta do it while you still can remember it."

Kyle slugged my arm. "Fucker, I'll get you for that. You're older than me, anyway. But damn! You guys look good for your age." Kyle sighed deeply, looked at his watch, then stood. "Listen, I gotta be going. I have a few more stops on my trip `round the lake, before I head back to Duluth."

"Stay the night," Jimmy offered. "We can watch the fireworks from H.C.'s pontoon, then we can catch up at my place. The loft bedroom is available, if you don't mind that we might be otherwise occupied."

We confirmed a time to meet, hugged it out, and said goodbye.

Seconds later a four-wheeler stopped behind us. "Dammit all. What was in the drinking water the years you guys were born?"

I recognized his ground coffee voice. "Whatever it was, H.C., I am glad my mom drank it."

"Me too," he smiled. "Ask me the same question a few years back, and I am not sure how I'd respond. But dammit all, I trust Chimp with my business, why wouldn't I trust him to love my cousin's boy? Look at Kyle too. You boys are well fed. There was one guy in my class, growing up, that we wondered about. He was a slight boy. I always caught him looking at me. I'm pretty sure he rowed the same boat as you three, if you get my drift. But."

"But, all gay men aren't alike," Jimmy said. "I fought my urges for years."

"Yes, you did," H.C. said. "You were damned miserable too. `Til your boss forced you to face yourself. From the looks of it, it was one of the best things I ever did. Listen, enough of this shit. I'm sure you guys have some celebrating to do. We're taking the pontoon at 8:30 sharp, be here or else."

He started the four-wheeler and sped off. Jimmy and I mingled with my cousins for a bit longer, then took a less circuitous tour of the northern leg of Pequadna Lake on our way home.

Jimmy placed the blue and white towel on the line, then pulled me into the cabin. "How does that story about the bowler go?"

"You mean `Exit Only!'?"

"Yeah, that one. Great fucking story. I like the part that takes place in a cabin. Tell me, why are you able to describe a man's ass so completely, without it becoming vulgar."

I quickly realized which part of the story he liked. "Inspiration I guess." I remembered that the story took place in early October, as the main characters were closing their cabin on a crisp, autumnal, day. One character, an unrelenting top, was in shock after he slipped and his waders filled with water from the cold, spring fed lake. His partner was quick to remove his frigid, wet clothes and warm him in front of the fireplace.

Today, however, on a warm July afternoon, we had no need for a warming fire, yet we had the same urgency to lose our clothes. I tore my t-shirt off, while he doffed his shorts. We kicked aside sandals, then my shorts fell to the floor. He was standing there, like a furry monkey, his shirt still opened.

His chest fur was illuminated by sunlight from the loft bedroom windows. I stepped forwards and slid the shirt over his broad shoulders, and let it fall. I leaned in, hugged him and kissed him.

He broke free "This isn't how it goes." Jimmy took the bench from the dining table, and sat it in front of the fireplace. He laid down, pushed his dick back between his legs, hugged the bench, and humped his ass back.

I stood for a moment, realizing this was the exact composition of his illustration for "Exit Only!" This was the fireplace, the hearth, and the bench. There was even one of Jimmy's sketches over the fireplace. Only the man clutching the bench was different. It was the man who was in the back of my mind when I wrote the story, but not the character I finally penned.

The two of us were slowly breathing. I was caught, not knowing what to do. Jimmy looked back at me, giving me permission.

I looked around. At the computer desk, I saw some massage oil; the perv. I warmed some in my hands, then got into character. "We gotta get the circulation back. Between this and the fire, we'll have you back to normal in no time."

I lost track of my story, and started to massage the oil into the man that I had loved. His back was furrier than the character in the story, so I used more oil as my hands traveled down his spine to his butt. When I got there, I grabbed a handful of ass in each mitt.

His ass moved with the slow rhythm of my breathing. In the story, the main character had to roughly bring warmth to his partner's skin, but Jimmy's flesh was hot to the touch. I slowly massaged his furry butt, taking pleasure in the swirls of hair created by the massage oil.

The twenty-five years since we shared gym class and had skinny dipped together, had given Jimmy a butt that was somehow more muscular and sexy. It was the ass of a man, a man I loved. It was an ass I had tasted earlier in the day, a taste I needed now more than ever.

I buried my face between his furry globes, and inhaled my man. Time stopped. Our breathing synched once again. I started to rim Jimmy, his ass moved with my tongue. I motioned for him to raise his ass, and I licked lower to his pierced taint, and full balls.

One by one, I sucked those furry eggs into my mouth. "The Halversons don't have a monopoly on the egg toss," I thought to myself. I pulled back his thick dick which had been humping against the bench, and thoroughly washed it with my tongue.

But I was there for one thing, the butt. I snarfed back up, past his balls, past his depraved, deprived, pierced taint, and to his furry, sexy, tight, virginal ass. My tongue entered it first.

"Exit only" he moaned.

I ignored him and sucked and spit-soaked, and tongued that rosebud. My thumb was jealous of my tongue, so while my left hand held a cheek, the thumb on my right hand slid down to the target. I sucked my thumb, coating it generously with spit, then punched it in to the knuckle.

"Exit only" he grunted.

I continued to ignore him. I drizzled the massage oil onto my fingers, then sunk one, two, then three into his ass.

"Exit only" He reminded me.

When I pulled out the three fingers, I lubed my dick, placed it at his rosebud, then placed my palms on his lower back, holding him still.

"Exit only," he sighed.

"Until now," I said, and slowly slid all but one inch, in.

Jimmy had his choice of stories, and he had chosen wisely. At Forty-three, he was giving his ass to me. I couldn't confirm it, but I was certain his ass was truly exit only, until that moment.

The realization made me collapse on his back. "Giving you the love you need, finally," I whispered. His neck shivered at the touch of my breath.

"Finally," he said, then pushed his ass up to take the last inch. I let him take the reins. He had his own greased pole to climb. I'll be damned but his theory about his brillo pad fur, worked on my pole too. Soon I knelt back on my knees, and allowed him to hump me with his furry butt.

I grabbed the massage oil bottle, and let a steady stream drizzle down to the point where his ass-ring, backed onto my thickness.

If our breathing was slow and measured earlier, it was suddenly erratic, and so was his fucking. Anal sex isn't for everyone, but as per my hunches, it was for Jimmy. I don't know if it was years of reading, or beginners luck, but soon he was drawing my orgasm out of me.

I went into full body convulsions as I unloaded in his ass. He quickly stood, spun, and plunged his dick into my stunned mouth. Three thrusts later, I was savoring and swallowing the sweetest load I had ever taken.

Jimmy rested his hands on my shoulder as his breathing returned to normal. As our convulsions stopped, he hooked my underarms and pulled me to standing. I wobbled for a second, then fell into his embrace. "Happy Birthday, Halverson. That should erase any doubt about your future."

In my mind, it did. As he held me, I calculated my escape plan. I'd call the restaurant, put in my two-week notice effective immediately, and drive down to The Cities, where I'd work my last shifts before moving to my new home.

I had "Fuck You" money, but not a "Fuck You" work ethic after all.

With that planned, I looked down at Jimmy. "Maybe it's time I start calling you Jim, or James." I said

"And instead of Halverson, I call you Everett," he replied.

"Nah," we both said, in unison.

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This is a Fourth of July love letter to my hometown. The name of the town has been changed to protect the innocent, not so innocent, and the obviously guilty. It is now connected with my Snowplow series to be found here https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-friends/snowplow/

It also may or may not be expanded on later. In the meantime, check out my other stories at https://www.nifty.org/nifty/authors.html#bixmeister

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Feedback is appreciated at BixMeister57