Affairs of mens hearts, p.1
Affairs of Men's Hearts, page 1
part #19 of Yellow Silk Dreams Series
Affairs of Men’s Hearts
Pablo Michaels
Affairs of Men’s Hearts
Copyright © 2015 by Pablo Michaels
ISBN: 978-0-9943462-0-9
Cover design by Michael Taggart, Muffy Wilson and Jacqueline George
All cover art and logo copyright © 2015 by Pablo Michaels
Printed and bound in Australia.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
Q~Press Publishing
Dedication
To the men who shared my bed in passion and love, especially my friend, partner, husband, and soulmate. We have traveled different paths but still have progressed on journeys toward acceptance and dignity as men who love men. My stories reflect my gratitude for you allowing our souls to intertwine toward equality and loving naturally. Through these stories I welcome all into my soul. Namaste.
Contents
Growing Up in My Hometown
Then and Now
The Slumber Party
Pagan Knights of Cambria Nights
Also by Pablo Michaels
Growing Up in My Hometown
I exited a bar on Castro Street, leaving behind the reeking fumes of cigarette smoke and the heavy thud, thud bass of dance music, in hopes of relieving the pounding sledge hammer in my head of a migraine. I cruised two men in designer haircuts, walking a pair of trimmed white poodles. Many men crowded the streets festively on that post Pride parade party. I joined the celebration, peering at the two men strolling in tight, black, leather chaps, their bare white asses hanging out through tailored open holes.
In high school, not knowing where my sexual identity might lead, I wouldn’t have been as free spirited to dress like them. Not that I didn’t have a fetish for leather and what it implied, I was simply inhibited.
Even though I felt like a wimp, my restrained image shattered during the summer of my senior year in high school. I never imagined being like Lewis, who sat next to me in American history, speaking out honestly and right to the point when asked a question. Facially, he expressed openness, whereas my face froze like a statue to hide my emotional thoughts. Whenever anyone addressed me, I simply smiled, shyly responding with the safest comment, not wanting anyone to look inside.
Lewis amazed me with his body language, his physique, and overall appearance, projecting the strong person I wished to be. At the same time, he frightened me with that strong masculine personality and manly facial structure, but the smile on his lips and in his eyes expressed gentle compassion. His tanned body resembled the men in Coppertone Sun Tan Lotion advertisements. His blue eyes sparkled with clarity through the darkness of his skin. My senses languished in every mannerism he displayed.
One day in class, I spied him through the corner of my eyes in his tight fitting Levi’s, his assets snugly in all the right places. I envied his physique, one- every guy wished he had. I scoped his reaction to a query by the teacher. His response was brilliant, arguing the point confidently. When he turned and glanced at me, smiling, my face blushed but I smiled right back. Lewis, the star quarterback of the varsity team, smiled at me. That fleeting smile made me feel like we just scored a touchdown together in the game. The flush of scarlet cloaking my face was like a rush of pleasure I cannot explain. That moment when he smiled, I knew we bonded and he was approachable.
When summer vacation arrived my friend Jay asked me to go camping for a week after finals. I agreed, thinking I would ask Lewis to join us. A risk I would take, making this trip with Jay more eventful. Jay was a nice guy, a good friend, and had a nice body but wasn’t my type. He was the person your parents want you to bond into friendship. He showed no sign of danger or excitement. He did fairly well in school, and was proficient in tennis, lettering his sophomore year. His girlfriend was rich but a stick in the mud. They were always wrapped around each other in a continuous make-out session, making me want to puke. Worse than that, Jay was boring, and had no sense for the risqué, but he was one of my few friends. Asking Lewis to join us thrust me into full anticipation for this campout.
A few days later my heart pounded loudly. My lungs couldn’t hold enough air to breathe, but I approached Lewis hesitantly. Almost shaking, I asked him nervously. When a person admires a hero, it is one thing to invite but quite another to wait for the reply.
“Hell yeah,” he responded.
My face flushed.
“That sounds like a lot of fun!” He bellowed. His enthusiasm contagious.
In the days following, I wondered if I would make it through finals. My thoughts raced elsewhere. Everyone was anxious for the end of the term, but I had even more to anticipate than another summer vacation filled with the same old frolic.
A week later, I borrowed one of my parent’s cars and drove to the mountains three hours away from our town. Backing into our parking slot at Stanislaus State Park, the dense, needled branches of a towering Douglas fir and pine tree obscured my sight. Our trip started off on a down note; I scraped the side rear of the car on the trees. I accepted this mishap, deciding to pick up the momentum by helping prepare our camp.
When Jay suggested we go fishing, we gathered all our gear. We equipped our rods with flies. Fly fishing was one of my favorite ways to fish, although it had not always been that way. My dad taught me. I was a slow learner in most sports activities, including fly fishing. A few years after guiding me, my dad left me on my own to develop my skills. My line no longer tangled in the shrubs or trees around and finally landed in the river.
Jay’s skill exceeded mine, having the talent my father would treasure if Jay were his son. Jay led the way down a dirt road shaded by pines, firs, and oaks. A small spring, feeding a roadside culvert, resembled a brook. The water lay still, quite shallow, and was inhabited with tadpoles and a few water skippers.
Looking at each other, Lewis and I had the same scheming idea simultaneously. While Jay stomped ahead Lewis pointed at the water and shouted, “Did you see the size of that fish?”
“He’s huge,” I yelled.
“Don’t let this one get away!”
Jay, naïve, for an eighteen-year-old boy, could always be counted upon to be the victim of a prank, accepting the others teases. He ran, his hand clinging to his fishing pole. He cast his fly, quickly, to land the big one.
After a few minutes repeated casting, he asked, “Which way did he go?”
Lewis and I relented. We confessed our prank, busting out laughing to the point of crying. Jay soon caught on to our escapade.
Once on the riverbank, Jay proved his great skills as a fisherman, catching the first fish, a big rainbow trout. Granted, Lewis was my hero, but a fisherman he was not, not even getting a nibble. I caught one trout but threw it back in, too small.
After a couple of hours, Jay caught six nice looking trout, I had two and Lewis had none. I suggested we head back to camp.
Lewis agreed.
“I’ll catch up with you guys in a couple of moments.” Jay wanted to continue his luck. “I want to get the limit.”
Lewis and I packed up our gear and the two trout. As we slowly hiked back to camp, my heart beat ferociously as Lewis walked close by my side. We were shirtless, wore only Levi cut-offs, and walked in construction boots. Our pale shoulders were burned. When we stopped under the hot sun to wipe the sweat from our brows, I stared at Lewis’ well- toned body, his chest covered with brown hair, his biceps pumped and tanned, his glistening red shoulders, and his sun bleached, blond hair. He turned, teasing me with a slap on my ass, his blue eyes flashing like sparklers. He continued, confidently ahead, not shuddering that I was admiring him like I was.
“We should put some oil on our backs and shoulders to cool the burn.” I suggested as we approached our tent. “We’re burning fast in this high elevation sun,”
Once in the tent, my heart pounded louder with excitement, fantasizing about rubbing Lewis’ body with an aphrodisiac lotion. Applying the lotion to his skin, my stomach fluttered with nervous spasms.
When it was Lewis’ turn to take care of me, I tensed with an erotic wish. His hands and the sensation of the oil aroused my dick. My entire body blazed with desire. “That feels good.”
“Let’s break open one of the bottles of Old Crow. You brought three, didn’t you?” Lewis suggested as we waited for Jay to return from fishing.
“Yes, let’s drink to our trip.” I bid, passing a bottle of bourbon to him.
“I hope we find some chicks up here. Don’t you feel like playing around?” He diverted the conversation to girls. His eyes twinkled as he changed from his shorts into a jockstrap.
I was aware normal eighteen-year-old boys usually obsessed over the opposite sex. But as I stared at the bulge in his pouch, I realized the glint of flickering light in his eyes was for me. I hurried to put on my jockstrap. “Lewis you can have the pick of almost any girl you want.” His charisma couldn’t deny that fact.
“No, I don’t. I struck out with Joyce Phillips. And Christie Hines.”
“But look at all those you have dated.”
“That’s nothing.”
He wasn’t bragging. That surprised me. My admiration for him grew even more.
“Billy, you’re
I wasn’t that smart.
“Could you help me write a decent poem? I need to impress Susan Richards. Will you help me?”
“We’re studying William Blake’s poetry in English Lit. I like what he writes. Maybe I could show you what I mean when we go back home.” I was flattered. “I don’t write as well as him. Right now, he’s my poetry idol.” I never thought Lewis would be enthused about writing poetry. I shuddered, hoping he might write a poem for me.
With the front door of the tent open, Lewis spotted a girl walking towards our camp. “Hey, Billy,” Lewis motioned to me. “Wouldn’t you like to hump this chick?”
Clad only in my jock strap, I peered through the tent door, observing a plain plump girl, wearing rolled up jeans and a flowered blouse. I began shaking my crotch in gyrations, merely jesting but finding myself getting an erection with Lewis so close. The erection was no joke, finding myself begging for attention but not by the girl.
Noticing my erection, Lewis appeared quite shocked, making me increasingly more aroused, my dick growing harder.
“She’s a dog, Billy. I was only kidding.”
I had a full erection filling my jock strap by then. It was for Lewis. I wished he had simply touched it. But I knew I had to allow it to become flaccid somehow.
“Christ Billy. She’s walking right for our tent. Put on your swimming suit.”
Lewis, panicking, slipped on his swimwear. He rushed through the door of the tent, immediately closed the flap, and stalled the girl in conversation, hiding my aroused body. “Those are big trout. Did you catch your limit?” I heard him compliment her nice catch of fish.
Drinking from the bottle of Old Crow, I attempted to relax to expel my embarrassment. I pulled up my swimsuit. Hearing Jay’s voice, I enjoyed a short reprieve. I pondered another time when Lewis might touch me as much as I wanted to feel him with my hands.
Eventually emerging from the tent, I joined in the conversation; the subject was fish. Jay bragged, catching his limit for the day too, definitely no erection then.
Exchanging their fishing locations, Jay insisted we try her fishing-hole the next day.
“Do you know what time it is?” The girl asked Jay.
“Four o’clock.”
“Are you going to the dance tonight at the resort?” She asked.
I hesitated to answer. But I knew this would be an important social event for all of the teenagers at the nearby lake a couple of miles down from our campground.
“That would be cool.” Lewis said.
“Yeah.” Jay agreed.
Their excitement overwhelmed my lack of enthusiasm. I wasn’t as enthusiastic but knew there was nothing else better to do on a Friday night at a popular resort. Lewis and Jay would be scoping out chicks, and I, as usual, would tag along for the camaraderie of my friends.
After the girl left, Jay, a Boy Scout cleaned all the trout we caught, while I passed around the Old Crow. Jay fried most of the trout over a campfire. I packed the rest on ice. The fish tasted especially good, sobering us after all the nasty bourbon we drank.
Jay was the designated driver that night, having less to drink than Lewis and me.
Arriving early at the resort around dusk, we decided to drink in the car to wait until a bigger crowd arrived. More chicks would be available to hustle then, Jay and Lewis contended; I agreed.
The night was dark, the music blasting throughout the resort from an unknown band. When in high school, live music was difficult entertainment to acquire, especially a famous and popular group. Jay and Lewis danced with one girl after another. I danced a few times out of sheer boredom.
When the band played the Beatles’ All My Loving, one of my favorite songs, I sat it out, watching the others dance.
We returned to the campground at midnight, woozy and intoxicated from the bourbon we drank. “The chicks weren’t that special.” Lewis mentioned, as Jay drove.
“I know; we have a better selection back home. But it was nice to pick up some new ones. You know what I mean?” Jay added.
I sat in the front seat with Jay, my head spinning, my thoughts confused. Suddenly I slurred a confession, “I can’t find a chick I like. I think I’m a homo…-”
“Golly, Billy,” Jay interrupted, “you’ve just had too much to drink.”
“Yeah,” Lewis agreed, “it’s the Old Crow. You’re not a queer.”
I cringed inside at the mention of that word. “But I feel awkward around girls. I like being with you guys. I don’t have the goods like you guys have.”
“Shit, Billy,” Lewis said. “You’ll feel better in the morning after you get some sleep. Hell, I’ve had so much Old Crow I wouldn’t be able to get it up.”
“Yeah, we’ll all feel better tomorrow when we go fishing again.” Jay backed into our parking slot.
Back in our camp safely without scraping my parent’s car again, we laid out our sleeping bags. Jay spread out his between Lewis’ and mine. I was disappointed and felt like a jerk after trying to explain what I felt inside.
The next day, we packed two bottles of bourbon, our fishing gear and hiked to the fishing hole the girl detailed the day before. Fortunately, I still had a buzz from the previous night and was in no hurry to have any more Old Crow, at least for that part of the day.
Hiking, traversing in and around the river for an hour, we found a great place to settle down for the day, fish seriously and maybe swim. The river’s water cascaded over a huge granite cliff into a large, deep pool of water. Taking off our boots and socks, we dipped our toes in the cool clean water while we assembled our fishing gear. Lewis set the bottles of booze safely in the water to chill for later.
Climbing around the cliff, we found our spot.
For two hours we fished in that hole, all of us faring quite well. Hot and getting hotter, our bodies were drenched with sweat and our skin glistened bright red. We decided we had caught enough fish for the day.
We were thirsty, our mouths chapped and dry.
“Bring on the Old Crow.” Jay shouted loudly, echoing through the whole canyon below.
We each took a sip from one bottle. The chill of the river made the bourbon taste refreshing.
“Let’s go jump off the top of the falls into this pool,” Lewis suggested.
“Let’s go skinny dipping.” Jay urged.
“What a great idea.” Lewis agreed.
I felt like a rock plummeted in my stomach. I was afraid of heights, but even more fearful of exposing my nude body. Was I going to compare it with their athletic bodies? How could I run around naked with these two guys? But I had no choice. How could I say no? After the night before, revealing more about myself than I wished. If I didn’t, they would know I was definitely a queer. Stripping of our shorts and underpants, all wearing white Jockey’s, we climbed to the top of the cliff, took a running start, and plunged into the pool below. Jay and Lewis went first, one after the other, each screaming delightfully, until they emerged from the frigid water.
When my turn came, I had a good running start, closed my eyes and jumped, splashing into the instant assault of the snow fed river water. I passed the test. I did it once. That was enough.
The other two took turns jumping, taking sips from the bourbon and climbing back up the side of the cliff. After about five jumps, Lewis got bold. Twisting and turning like an acrobat, he fell through the air.
After we drank almost another whole bottle of Old Crow, we lay naked, drying on large, flat boulders with the sun drenching our bodies with radiant heat.
“I like you guys more than girls.” I muttered, exposing my feelings again; like, hey, I’m a homo.
“So you like guys.” Lewis laughed. “Guys like to hang around together. You’ll like sex with a girl.”
“We’ve been on double dates together!” Jay reminded me.
“But…,” I whimpered in my drunken stupor.
“You had that hard on when that fat chick came by our tent yesterday.” Lewis interrupted.
I remembered why I had that erection… Lewis. Suddenly aware my dick was hardening again into a stiff erection, I turned over onto my stomach.
