(Takes up just where first part leaves off.)
It was still before sunrise the next day when my dad woke me up to go fishing, shaking the tent gently and calling my name. I whispered that I was coming, got dressed and slipped out of the tent.
Danny was still asleep, and I told my dad we should go without him. He wasn't much of a fisherman anyway, and Mom would be there to keep him company when he woke up.
My dad and I had good luck, bagging two big trout and three smaller ones. We cleaned them, put them on ice and headed back to camp about 9.
Mom had timed a big breakfast for our return, with Danny's help, and afterward we all went for a walk around the campground.
On the far side of the campground I saw the guy from the shower the night before, in camp with his wife and several kids. He didn't notice our approach, but as we passed I glanced back over my shoulder.
He was looking at me. Again I thought I saw the hint of a smile. I wasn't sure what to make of it.
Back in camp we got out some board games and the four younger folks played for a couple of hours. I was distracted and kept making dumb moves, and Danny seemed to be doing the same thing -- so much so that my sister complained about our not paying attention.
About mid-afternoon Danny and I decided to go for another hike. This time we headed north from the campground instead of west, as we had yesterday. But by taking the left fork at each junction we gradually worked our way back to the spot we'd occupied yesterday. It was as if we had an unspoken agreement to see if we could spot the gay guys again.
I think we were both disappointed that they were nowhere to be seen, though again neither of us said anything.
We sat down and got out our water bottles. I don't think we were consciously waiting for the two men to appear, but when a car pulled into the long gravel driveway leading to their cabin, my heart beat a little faster. I sensed that Danny was as excited as I was.
I picked up the binoculars. It was our two guys, all right, carrying some grocery bags and what looked like a couple of six-packs into the cabin.
"It could be a while before they come back outside, if they ever do," I said, "And even they might not do anything."
"Let's wait a bit," Danny said.
That settled it. He was as interested in watching the two guys as I was.
We were quiet for a minute or two. I put the binoculars down.
"This feels pretty strange, spying on those guys," Danny said, without looking at me.
"Not as strange as what we did last night."
"That was kinda gay, wasn't it?"
It was the second time he'd phrased it that way.
I hesitated before answering. My own feelings about last night were conflicted; a part of me was totally freaked out, but another part couldn't wait to do it again.
"Do you wish we hadn't done it?" I asked.
He thought for a second -- long enough for me to get scared he might say yes.
But then he turned to look at me, and said in a quiet voice, "No, Gil, I don't."
I was relieved.
"Neither do I," I said.
He turned back toward the cabin and, without looking at me, said, "That wasn't the first time I jacked with a guy."
This was a stunner.
Before I could say anything, however, the back door of the cabin opened and one of the guys walked out onto the deck with a towel wrapped around his waist.
"Here we go," I said.
Danny's revelation would have to wait.
As I watched, the guy went over to a big square box-like thing in one corner of the deck. He tugged on something, and when it slid off I realized it was the cover of a hot tub.
Standing the cover on edge against the railing, he went back inside. A moment later he returned to the deck, a bottle in hand, followed shortly afterward by the second guy, also wrapped in a towel and carrying a bottle.
As I watched the men dropped their towels on the deck, exposing their backsides, and climbed into the tub. For a minute they just sat there sipping their beers, if that's what they were, but soon they were kissing again.
"Whoa," I said.
"My turn," Danny said.
I handed him the binoculars.
"They're really going at it."
I got excited again, imagining the scene. My dick was taking on weight.
Holding the binoculars with one hand, Danny put the other on the front of his jeans, where a bulge was obvious, and shifted himself to get more comfortable. He made no attempt to disguise what he was doing.
"Tell me what they're doing," I said.
"They're still kissing," he said, "but their hands are moving underwater, like they're touching each other."
He paused, then went on in a strangled voice, "I think they are jacking each other off."