(Last chapter takes up where Part 5 ends)
I spent the next couple of hours -- all through dinner with the family and sitting around the fire -- in a bit of a haze. I was there but not there, too preoccupied with my thoughts to be sociable. iIt was chilly after the rain, so when my parents decided to turn in early I did the same.
I'd been semi-hard ever since leaving the shower, eagerly anticipating the time when I could strip off my clothes and jack off. I was just about to start when I thought of the towel Danny and I had come on when we'd jacked off together two nights earlier.
I pulled it out of the corner of the tent where I'd thrown it. I brought it to my nose and inhaled, and thought I could still detect the slightly bleachy smell of our mingled semen. My dick twitched in anticipation.
I slid into my sleeping bag, turned off the lantern and shucked off my pants. Taking my cock in hand, I began jerking, going as slowly as my aching balls would permit.
All the things I'd seen and done in the last couple of days came back to mind, one after another, then all blending together: spying on Rick and his friend, seeing the naked guy in the shower, jacking off with Danny, spying on Rick and his friend again, trading blow jobs with Danny, the guy in the shower sucking me off, seeing Rick again today, then sucking the shower guy in return.
Hardly two minutes passed before I felt that familiar tingling in my cock and my sack started to tighten. I opened my mouth, gave a final tug or two and shot a wad that -- just as I intended -- plopped in the middle of my tongue. I swallowed it as three more shots landed on my stomach. I scooped them up with my fingers and thrust them into my mouth.
When the spasms finally stopped I lay there panting in the dark. I lay awake for a while, thinking about how I had changed in the last few days. From totally straight to .... Well, to something different, whatever it was.
The next morning I woke up early. Hearing someone moving about, I got dressed and scrambled out of the tent. My dad was about to go fishing, and when he asked if I wanted to go I said yes.
We got in the car and headed for his favorite spot, a deep pool among the pines a mile or so further up the valley. When we got there you could see the water dimpling where the trout were rising, and we ended up catching several nice ones.
Mostly, though, we talked. My dad is a good listener, not inclined to lecturing or pontification, and once I got over my early adolescent stupidity I realized he was good at helping work things out by just asking questions and listening to the answers.
I wasn't going to ask him for his thoughts on having sex with guys, of course, though he is hard to shock and we'd talked fairly frankly about sex in the past.
He was curious, though, about how I felt about going to college in the fall: Was I mostly excited, or mostly apprehensive, about being away from home in a new and more freewheeling environment?
Both, I said.
"That sounds about right," he said.
He eventually said something to the effect that college is a time for trying new things, working out who you are. It's almost like you're trying out different personalities to find the best fit, and you should never feel stuck with one or the other.
I don't know to what extent he was thinking about sex -- possibly not at all -- but I thought the lesson applied as much to my present situation as to college: I was trying out a new thing, seeing if it was a good fit. What I did wasn't necessarily what I am.
This made me feel much better.
After a couple of hours we went back to camp and put the fish on ice. We would have a big fish-fry that night, our last in camp.
I had a few hours to kill before heading to Rick's cabin, so I lounged around in camp, reading a bit and playing board games with my siblings. I thought little about what might happen that afternoon.
As 2 o'clock approached, though, Rick was very much on my mind. What, if anything, was going to happen? Did I want something to happen and, if so, what? Would he come on to me, or me to him?
Or was I just building a big fantasy that was founded on nothing? What if it was all in my head, if all he wanted was what he said: to have a soak in the hot tub?
Then there was a practical question: Should I take something to wear in the tub? I hadn't brought a swimming suit on the trip -- there's no place nearby to swim -- but should I take something else, like a pair of nylon shorts? Or would we just get in nude, the way he and his friend had earlier in the week?
Just in case, I threw a pair of nylon shorts in my day pack.
A little after 1 p.m. told my folks I was going for a last long hike but would be back in time for dinner. Once again I left the campground on the north side, then veered west until I picked up the trail to Rick's cabin.
It was a warm, clear day, the air clean and refreshing after yesterday's rain. Having decided I was open to whatever might happen -- or to nothing, if Rick had nothing in mind -- I walked along feeling almost lighthearted.
Just before 2 I knocked on the cabin door. Rick answered it in a pair of cutoffs and a faded T-shirt.
"Hey, glad you could make it," he said, extending a hand to shake. "Come on in. Do you like martinis?"
"Never had one, to tell you the truth," I said.
He got a pitcher out of the fridge and poured two glasses.
"Skoal," he said, clinking his glass against mine."
I took a swallow rather than a sip and immediately started coughing. He laughed.
"These are pretty strong," he said. "Better to sip."
We went into the living room and sat down. There was no fire but the room felt warm anyway.
"Are you trying to get me drunk?" I asked.
"Only with your permission," he said with a sly smile.
"Well, I can't go back to camp drunk," I said.
"We'll go easy on the booze then," he said. "How do you feel about smoking dope?"
"I feel fine about that," I said.
He got up and took a small pipe and a metal canister from the mantel.
"We won't need much of this," he said.
Boy, was he right. I hadn't taken more than three puffs when it hit me -- bang, stoned just like that.
"Awesome," I said.
We sat there for a few minutes sipping the martinis -- which I decided I very much liked -- and being high.
"Ready for the tub?" he asked.
"You bet. Just gotta change."
"Sure, in there," he said, pointing to the door of a bathroom that led off from the kitchen.
I was vaguely disappointed. I guess I had hoped he'd suggest we go in nude.
When I returned from the bathroom he had changed, too. We refilled our glasses and took them out on the deck. Rick put his glass down on a shelf next to the tub, stripped off his shirt and -- almost before I could get a good look at him -- got into the tub.
He was tanned and fit, toned if not especially muscular, with fine blonde hair on his arms, legs and chest. Sexy, I thought.
I climbed in after him. He seemed to be watching me, and I felt self-conscious.
He took a drink of his martini, settled back against the side of the tub and closed his eyes.
The water felt great and I said so.
"This is one of my favorite places to be," he answered, without opening his eyes.
"I think I know why," I thought.
A few minutes passed quietly. The longer I sat there, the more I was nagged by a feeling of guilt. He had shown me nothing but friendliness and hospitality, but I had acted like a snake toward him.
"I have to tell you something," I said.
He opened his eyes and looked at me.
I swallowed hard.
"My friend and I spied on you the other day," I said.
"Spied on me? What do you mean?"
He looked more bewildered than angry.
"We were out hiking, and we stopped to rest on that outcrop," I said, pointing. "I always carry binoculars, for birds, mostly, and we were scanning around, and saw you and your friend in the woods.... Well, we saw you."
Rick went pale.
"I'm sorry," I said. "It was a shitty thing to do and I apologize."
He gave me a withering look.
