Do You Trust Me?

by B. G. Thomas

  My toes curled, and I flexed them. It felt good. Hobbit feet, indeed! Of course, even the knuckles of my toes had hair. Geez, I did have hobbit feet.

  Cole likes them.

  While looking at the objects of Cole’s attention, I noticed my bright orange trunks and laughed. They were ridiculous. They went to nearly my knees. What happened to smaller trunks? Whose idea were they anyway? Awful! Just awful. In college my trunks had barely covered my butt. Emily had loved them. Why did men practically wear slacks in the pool these days? Were they hiding?

  Like you’re hiding?

  Take them off.

  Be free.

  You can get nekkid.

  No one will see.

  I had to wrestle with the idea. I’d never been naked outside in my life. Not once. Not even in the open-sky locker rooms lining the beaches on that Orlando vacation Em and I had once taken. I’d been horrified. Which Em had found hilarious.

  “Who are you afraid will see you?” she’d asked. “Helicopter pilots?”

  But now Cole’s suggestion was in my mind, and it would not let go. Foolishly, I looked around me—there was a fence, so who was going to see me if someone wandered by?

  Do it! Don’t be a chickenshit. Do it. Damn. With a jolt of fear and excitement, I stood and climbed out of my practically fluorescent trunks. For a second, I held them in front of me, hiding my privacy. Then—slowly—I forced myself to drop my hands to my sides.

  I was naked.

  Outside.

  My penis, my ass, totally and for the first time ever exposed to the world. A very small part of it. A fenced-in section of it. But exposed nevertheless.

  I grinned.

  It felt good, like so much else around this place.

  I wanted to shout. I wanted to let out a Tarzan yell and beat on my chest and wag my not-so-privates at the sky. Why not? Maybe not yell. I didn’t want anyone to come running.

  But the rest?

  I laid the trunks aside and raised my arms above me, threw back my head, and wiggled my sore ass. The bubbling water was right at the level to tickle my balls, and I laughed aloud.

  It did.

  It felt good to be naked.

  To my surprise, I felt my penis stir, and when I looked, it gave a jump. Goodness! The watching seemed to urge it on, and my cock began to rise—as if in imitation of my arms to the sky.

  I laughed again and, with a final surge, my cock rose to complete erection. Damn! When did just getting a hard-on feel so good? I hadn’t even touched myself.

  Yet.

  When was the last time I even had an orgasm? A week? No. A month? I couldn’t even remember. I’d always preferred the real thing to masturbation. The latter needed me to conjure images and there lay dragons.

  I sat down.

  Right into a jet that was just right—not too gentle, not too rough—to stimulate my arousal to a moan-inducing degree.

  I shifted back a bit, and another gentle jet was hitting me in the tailbone, and that felt good too. The tailbone? I hadn’t even known it was sore. I cocked my hips a tad more and the—Oh!—my eyes went wide. The water was hitting me someplace a couple of inches lower and even more private than my erection and—oh, oh, oh!—my eyes rolled up with a will of their own.

  Damn! Who knew that could feel so good? The erotic massage was so intense. Without realizing what I was doing, I began to rock back and forth, back and forth, letting those two jets play with my straining cock and my most private place.

  Goosebumps raced up my arms and across my shoulders. Could I come this way? Without touching myself?

  Cole was right. Getting in a hot tub “nekkid” was better. Was this what he meant? Of course it was… or something like it. Like maybe taking him up on his invitation to join me? What would he be doing to me if he were here right now? Would he be touching me? My cock? My other place? Would he want to suck me? Cole’s beautiful, sexy face filled my mind—those incredible eyes, that smile, that mouth. Unbidden, I found myself picturing him sucking me.

  Fuck!

  I began to moan uncontrollably, unmindful of the noise I was making—not caring. Yes, I could come this way! And I was going to. I was getting closer. Closer. Closer.

  “Mr. Baxter?”

  I froze, my brain slamming into a brick wall.

  There was a knock on the fence. “Mr. Baxter?”

  Fuck! It was Cole.

  “I… I….” I tried to speak but couldn’t. I’d been so close to orgasm. My testicles were shouting for release. A few more rocks against the jets would have been all it would have taken.

  There was a click, and I saw the latch of the gate open—was there some kind of string to pull on the other side? Dammit!

  The gate opened, and Cole was standing there.

  “You okay, Mr. Baxter?”

  “I… I….” I nodded. “Yes.” That last word sounded as if I’d sucked on helium. I cleared my throat and laid my arms along the back of the hot tub, trying to look casual.

  “I brought you some of that cream,” he said, holding out a yogurt container. “It has all kinds of herbs in it—aloe, echinacea, lavender, calendula, comfrey—all mixed up in whipped vitamin E. Just don’t forget and eat it.”

  “Herbs grown at Black Bear?” My voice was now a little bit more normal.

  “Some of ’em!” Cole said proudly. “Also, I wanted to let you know they’re getting ready to put the steaks on the grill for dinner. And I guarantee you they’ll be the best steaks you’ve ever had in your life!”

  “Dinner?” My voice was practically back to itself. Was it dinnertime already?

  Cole nodded. “Cook let me know they were ready a little early, and we’re going to go ahead and start in about twenty minutes or so, all right?”

  “Sure,” I said, and just exactly then the jets stopped.

  Seconds later—who knew it would happen so quickly?—the foam was gone.

  And that fast, Cole looked down.

  To his credit, he blushed.

  He turned away. “Ah…. Look. I’ll leave the cream. Meet you back at the dining hall? You… finish up whatever you were doing and…. Later!”

  And quick as a flash, out the gate he went.

  Finish? What did he mean by…?

  Finish!

  Finish masturbating? The embarrassment was excruciating.

  Finish by jerking off? How could I?

  But how could I not? Even humiliation had done nothing to wilt my throbbing hard-on. I’d been too close to orgasm, and my balls were aching, crying out in need. I had to finish.

  I grabbed myself, jacking, and immediately wondered if I could finish. My balls wanted it, but my mind had gone somewhere where only the most embarrassed of thoughts could go.

  How could Cole have looked at my….

  Because he’s gay, you idiot. Wouldn’t you have looked if there had been a woman in the hot tub?

  I knew the answer.

  No.

  The answer was no.

  I wouldn’t have looked. I would have averted my eyes. And no need to pretend it was because I was a gentleman. I wouldn’t have wanted to see. I’d rarely looked at Em down there.

  That shame made me see orgasm really would be impossible.

  Unless….

  Shit!

  I closed my eyes, and Cole instantly filled my mind once more. Those eyes. Those lips. I imagined him taking me in his mouth, what it would feel like, what it would look like….

  And seconds later, an orgasm, exquisitely pleasurable and almost painful, hit me so hard and fast I nearly shouted. When I came down from the wave of conflicting sensations, there was only one thought in my foggy brain.

  How could this be happening? So fast? A lifetime of discipline wiped away like chalk from a blackboard. Cole’s mere existence had opened feelings and thoughts like water being released from the floodgates.

  What was I going to do?

  CHAPTER 7: Confrontations

  I JOINED everyone for dinner around back of
the main dining hall, where numerous picnic benches had been set up and were already crowded with people. It was easy to find my family, and Cole was there, of course; where else would he be? I tried to avert my eyes and was once again grateful for the slight sunburn on my cheeks. It would hide any of the blushing Cole could call forth with but one flick of his dark eyes.

  I needn’t have worried. Cole was a perfect gentleman. No knowing smile, no twinkle to his eyes. No more than usual, that was. It was like nothing had happened.

  Not far from the tables was the man referred to as “Cook.” He was huge, and not in girth. He was a bit wide, but what was so impressive was his pure size. I knew he was well over six feet tall, but had he topped seven? He was bald, his scalp gleaming from sweat from the sun and the heat of the grills. The hands flipping the dozens of steaks were immense.

  The smell of cooking meat filled the air, and I found my mouth was watering. I was starved! And how could that be? I’d had both a cheeseburger and a hot dog for lunch.

  One bite of my medium-rare steak, a huge, thick thing, and I was catapulted to heaven. It was quite simply the best steak I had ever tasted in my life, just as Cole had predicted, and my eyes rolled up in my head in ecstasy. The baked potatoes (grown on the ranch?), loaded with cheese and sour cream, were just as delicious. Everything was good, the weather was just right, the emotions light and high. Laughter and the sound of smacking lips filled my ears. The evening was ideal.

  Amy sat on one side of me and Crystal on the other. She was excited about the volleyball game. Apparently, she’d been spot on with a game in which her poor skills were usually legendary.

  “She kicked butt,” Cole said. He was two people down from Amy and, damn, I found myself wishing he was next to me.

  Crystal beamed at his praise. Cole’s attention did things to everyone.

  “Tonight’s the bonfire,” Cole said. “And s’mores.”

  That generated a lot of enthusiasm, and I found even I was looking forward to that. I hadn’t had the campfire treats since I was a kid. They were about the only thing—except skinny-dipping with George—I’d liked about my enforced summer church-camp days.

  George. I hadn’t thought of him in years.

  Liar!

  How long had it been? The last time I’d seen him was—

  Hey, Neil, do you ever play with it?

  —the summer before my freshman year in high school. I always saw him at church camp. Dreaded and longed to see him at the same time. The guilt and the longing always at war.

  And how could I forget?

  Because we got caught. The camp directors had threatened to call my mother. I’d begged them not to. I’d cried and cried. Told them it was all George’s fault because he was two years older and talked me into it, and they believed me—because he was older and they thought me an innocent kid—and George’s mother had come and taken him away.

  I’d been terrified for months that my mom would find out. She almost always found out. Knowing for sure she might truly kill me that time.

  And the shame! I’d been haunted by the guilt of that for years. I’d been no innocent. I’d wanted everything George wanted to do. I seduced him when it was his turn to feel guilty and to say we shouldn’t be doing what we were doing. Sure, he’d started everything. Started it with those words whispered to me when we snuck out of our cabin to try a cigarette.

  Hey, Neil, do you ever play with it?

  I’d hated the cigarette, but I had liked what we did after that.

  I never found out what happened to George. We hadn’t had the chance to exchange phone numbers or anything. I wasn’t sure where he was from exactly, and he’d had a perfectly boring last name, like Smith or something, so I couldn’t have found him if I’d wanted to.

  I’d actually briefly considered killing myself. There was a swift river near my house, and I’d even stood on the edge of it once, contemplating jumping in. A school counselor had figured out something was wrong, got me to his office, and finally dragged it out of me.

  That’s when he told me something that I’d held on to for a long time. He told me boys fooling around with boys was normal.

  “It is?” I’d asked, stunned, heart trip-hammering in my chest.

  “What was it exactly that you two did?” he asked, laying a hand on my shoulder and sitting next to me.

  “We…. We….” I couldn’t say it.

  But the man, I couldn’t remember his name—

  Liar!

  —used those skills of his to drag that out of me too.

  I told him that we jerked off together. And that sometimes we did it to each other.

  And he assured me that was perfectly normal. That I was going through all these hormonal changes and there was nothing wrong with what we’d done.

  I had grabbed hold of that like a life preserver in a raging storm in the middle of an ocean, even though there was more after that and it had creeped me out, and I prayed and prayed that Mom still wouldn’t find out because I knew she wouldn’t think what we had done was normal at all.

  “You okay, Neil?”

  I jolted out of the memory and turned to Amy, who had a dripping ear of corn in hand with a row of kernels missing and butter smeared on her lips. “You went all pale, babe,” she said.

  I did? I said. Or tried to. Nothing came out. I nodded instead.

  I took a drink of tea. “Fine.”

  “You sure?” I could see the concern on her face.

  “Yeah,” I somehow managed. “Sure.”

  “You look like you could use something a lot stronger than tea,” she said. “Like maybe a shot of Cole’s whiskey.”

  “You know about that?”

  She nodded, one side of her buttery mouth slightly upturned. “Cole’s all-purpose medicine.”

  “You make it sound like I’m an alcoholic.” Cole, who had somehow materialized, was leaning in between us.

  “It helped me once or thrice,” Amy said, a wistful smile on her face. “I wouldn’t refuse any.”

  I wondered about that for a moment and then remembered that she and Owen had found out about the cancer a week or so before they left for camp.

  “How about you wipe your face first,” I said, handing her a napkin.

  “You two want to sneak off with me now, or shall we save it?” he asked conspiratorially.

  Amy raised her eyebrows behind her napkin and looked at me. “Either way. Neil?”

  I gulped. “I—I can wait.”

  After a pause, she nodded. “Okay.” She looked up at Cole. “We’ll wait ’til the bonfire.”

  “Okay.” Cole grinned, tapping his front jeans pocket, and when my eyes followed the movement, I couldn’t help but notice the not-inconsiderable mound in the crotch of his pants.

  Holy shit! What did he have in there?

  “You just let me know.”

  “Know?” I ripped my eyes away from his bulge.

  Our eyes locked. His bored into mine. The twinkle had turned into a blaze. He’d caught me. There could be no doubt.

  And damn if my cock didn’t betray me once more as it shifted in my jeans.

  His smile grew even broader and he winked. “About the whiskey, Big Daddy,” he lied, glanced down at my crotch, and then turned and walked away.

  THE CAMPFIRE was huge, almost comically so, as people tried to approach it with their marshmallows on sticks. The heat from the near inferno was intense. I got close, lit mine on fire, and quickly stepped away. No slow browning for me. The temperature was just too much on my tender—albeit only slightly burned—skin. Plus I’d always loved my marshmallows blackened on the outside and gooey hot on the inside.

  “I can’t believe you did that,” Amy said as I mashed my burned mess between chocolate and graham crackers.

  I shrugged. “They’re perfect this way.” I took a bite of my sticky treat. “Not too hot or too cold.” It was wonderful, like everything else here. “You, on the other hand, are risking incineration from standing arou
nd that conflagration trying to perfectly brown yours.” I pointed to the admittedly perfect marshmallow at the end of her stick. “I mean, you’re just going to mash it in your s’more anyway.”

  She grinned, and we both started laughing.

  “Kettle corn?”

  It was Cole—with two bags overflowing with popcorn.

  “Sure.” Amy took one of the brightly colored, movie-style bags.

  “Daddy?” Cole asked, his eyes dancing in the light from the fire.

  “Thanks.” I took the proffered bag. “Do you grow your own popcorn too?” I asked with a grin.

  “Nope, but Cook does make the mixings to turn it sweet. You’ve got chocolate on your face.”

  Before I knew what he was doing, he reached out, wiped the corner of my mouth, and offered an upraised finger to me. Immediately, I felt a tightening in the crotch of my jeans as I looked from the chocolate on the tip of his big index finger to his eyes and back again. Those eyes were flashing again, and I could see the “I dare you” in them. My breath caught. Taking the choice away from me, he stuck his finger in his own mouth and sucked it clean.

  Amy cleared her throat, and I jerked. We turned to her in unison. Both her brows were raised high enough that they’d disappeared under the hair that covered her forehead. “If you two are through, how about some of that whiskey, Cole? I could sure use a drink, and I think Neil here could too.”

  “You bet,” Cole said. “But let’s slip back a bit, out of the light where everyone can see us.”

  We did, which meant Amy couldn’t see the daggers I’d shot her with my eyes.

  “What the hell was that?” I murmured.

  “I was thinking of asking you the same thing,” she replied.

  For one second, I thought I might either throw up or run away. Until I realized there was no reproach in her voice. None at all. My stomach began to flip.

  Cole wiggled up close to us and grinned. “I feel like I’m at the high school prom sneaking booze into the punch.”

  “You spiked the punch,” Amy said. She couldn’t disguise the glee in her voice.

  “I sure did.”

  “Me too,” she whispered and burst into laughter.

  “That was you?” I asked in shock.