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Hitchiker Part, 4

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Greg and I were both disappointed and relieved. With his aunt and uncle in the cottage for the weekend and not us we would be able to go to the camp I worked at and finish our day of sex and pleasure. I was disappointed because I wanted to be taken on that perfect 1950’s chrome rimed, melamine table but relieved because now I would be able to finish the day perfectly in my own bed at the camp and besides it was another hour to the camp which meant another hours of him sucking me while I drove, “hot dog”.

The relatives where disappointed I could not stay and almost begged Greg to stay but he made up some story about helping me move and that we just stopped at the cottage to get something to eat as it was on the way to the camp, which lead to the invitation to dinner. I declined and said I had to get back, which was the truth. Working at summer camps you only get one day off. The relatives packed up some goodies for us and we headed on up the road. It was now that I got to get to know Greg.

We talked about a lot of things, his military training in the reserves, his high school and college sports and most everything about him. He did confess that besides his brother he did have a friend in collage that used to fuck him on a fairly regular basis. He got real quiet after he told me that and so I had to know why. So I asked him, “Why did you get so quiet all of a sudden?”

“Just thinking about college,” he answered

“And…” I replied.

“With some seat shifting and a bit of uneasiness,” he continued, “You know. “I have had sex with three guys in my life and hundreds of girls, I never cum with the girls but always with the guys. Do you think I’m gay?”

Now the age old question was on the table and I could see that he was really struggling with the question. Of course I knew he was gay but here is how I answered him. “Greg it is very simple, we can label ourselves straight, gay, bisexual or transsexual. Those are about all the choices, except there is one more that we always overlook as societal people, that being that as humans we can be just “sexual”. If you want to be gay let me get my fairy wand out and poof you will be gay, but if you would rather claim yourself as sexual--that way you do not commit to the stigmatism of a title or label. Also you get to retain machismo and get to be a big nellie bottom and no one is the wiser.”

A big smile came across his face and he thanked me with his vocal chords, then lowered his head to my lap and thanked me with his throat.

It took about 40 minutes to get to the camp. I took an entrance to the camp that jogs around most of the kid’s activities and ends up right behind my cabin. On the way I have to pass the director’s office so I stopped to inform her that I would have a visitor for the night and would take him to the bus in the morning.

My cabin by camp standards was a palace. I had a living room small kitchen and dinette and a spacious bathroom complete with a claw foot tub and an old shower head that dumped about a gallon of water every 15 seconds. My bedroom was huge and the bed was a very large queen size bed (it figures) with a huge old feather mattress. It was the old type of bed with springs and an iron head and foot board.

Greg had a long look around the cabin and asked if he could have a bath and if I would join him. “Hell yes!” I answered him.

We ran a bath and got in. The whole time we were in the tub we kissed and hugged and played with each other. It was kind and gentle and fun and held no comparison to the fuck sessions we had shared earlier in the day. I had only spent a day with him and I was becoming very fond of him. I was mulling these thoughts over in my head when he spoke.

“You know a person could get used to you. You’ve treated me great all day, made me feel at ease with my choice of who I like and want to have sex with and in all the sex we had, whether it was rough or not, you always treated me like the partner,” he conceded.

“I thank you, but where did that come from?” I asked.

He continued, “My big brother used to sneak into my room when I was younger and fuck me like I was a toy. He would not let me get used to his size--he would just fuck me hard, and then when he was finished he would beat the hell out me. He used to say he beat me up because faggots deserved to be beaten up and if I were any sort of a man I would not let him to this to me.”

“Did you ever fight back?” I asked

“Only once, the last time he tried to fuck me. I knew he would come to my room because he was drunk and had been fighting with my dad. I waited for him behind the door and when he came in I hit him as hard as I could across the back of the head with my varsity baseball bat.” he blurted out and continued. “When he tried to get up I kept hitting him and hitting him. I think I stopped when he told me he would never do it again. I didn’t believe him so I drew back my foot as far as I could, directed it at his mouth and kicked him as hard as I could.”

“What happened next?” I asked

He finished his story this way, “I dragged him out of my room over to the top of the stairs and pushed him down the stairs. I was screaming at him to never touch me or my little brother again. Dad heard me and came out of his room to see the bloody mess on the floor below me. He asked what was going on and I told him everything. He picked Dan, (my big brother) up off the floor and threw him out the door, called and ambulance and the police and told them he was never to step foot back on the property again. The next day when I was at school one of his friends who was also one of my friends asked where he was and I told him the truth. Dan never came home again and I have not seen him since.”

Greg grew silent and calm. The silent tears on his face told me that what he had just said was pretty much verbatim to what had happened. We got out of the tub and dried off. I lead him to the bed and we got in. He wrapped his arms around me and held me close. I asked him if he would like to continue from the afternoon but he shook his head no.

“What I would rather do is just hold you for a couple of hours and when I get some energy back maybe we can find some space on the kitchen table to accommodate us,” he replied. He smiled at me with deep passion and laid his head on my chest.

This whole story happened in one day. Greg and I stayed together for two years and then we grew apart. Greg and I are still friends and every so often he will call and ask how sturdy my kitchen table is. Greg married a nice young girl and eventually got called up from the reserves for active duty. The last time I saw Greg he had his cock buried deep in my ass on top of my kitchen table. About a week ago his wife called me to say they were breaking up, and that he was coming home from the service, but that he was not welcome in his own home.

Greg will be here in about a week, I can’t wait to show him his story on the Internet.

If you like my stories let me know blueboymjc@hotmail.com subject line Men On The Net.


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