By Dudley Jarvis-North
It was hot and humid in Boston -- it was August -- and my thoughts turned to my cabin in Maine, on a lake deep in the woods, away from noise and humanity, with all its imperfections. Maine was God's country, with its pine trees, rocky coastline, trails, birds, beasts, brush, and a thousand lakes and waterways.
I had been a Navy Seal, now retired and ready for some hiking, fishing, and reflection.
A thought jumped into my head. I wonder if my young ward Josh would like to join me this year. He was returning to college in September and this might be the perfect time to teach him the joys of camping. His father Mike had been my best friend. After Mike died of cancer, I became Josh's surrogate dad, providing a male presence in his life. He called me Uncle Ted.
Josh, now 19, had grown into a handsome young man, 6-1, 170 pounds, lanky build, sandy hair, pale blue eyes, broad shoulders, washboard stomach, great legs with just enough of a treasure trail to be masculine. He was a star on his high school swim team, and reminded me of Michael Phelps, with his attractively goofy face and All-American smile. He also reminded me of his dad. My body is very different — I'm 5-9, 180 solid pounds and have olive skin, dark hair and Italian brown eyes.
I proposed the trip and Josh was instantly excited. So that Friday, off we went -- with his mother's blessing -- into my Jeep, up 95, heading for the Pine Tree State.
Josh found the radio station he favored, and there it was in the pit of my stomach -- a palpable excitement just being in his company. Or was he reminding me of his dad, with whom I had enjoyed many trips to the cabin? As Josh fumbled with the dial on the radio, I thought I saw him stare at my crotch. But I blew it off as my imagination.
Josh's Dad, Mike, had been a terrific husband and father, but he had this other side that craved sex with men, or perhaps just sex with me. We had been close since childhood. We served in the Seals together. But our journey to Brokeback Mountain came much later and had started slowly -- like those two cowboys in the movie -- feeling each other out, afraid to make the first move, wondering if we might ruin a good friendship by veering into taboo waters.
Eventually, one night at the cabin, we both had had too much to drink and did everything two hot guys could do. We tasted each other's dicks, fucked, and even explored watersports. Our sexual adventures are forever in my memory, but this story is not about those. This is about Mike's son.
Josh and I arrived at the cabin, about 100 miles north of Boston, and I put him right to work. The large room was musty and damp from its perch on the lake. I opened the windows and as I turned around, Josh had flopped on the double bed — the only one in the cabin, although there was also a couch.
"Uncle Ted, is this where you and Dad slept?"
I groaned to myself. Jeezus, where did that come from? I didn't know what to say, but had to say something. "Yeah, we were going to take turns sleeping on the sofa, but it's too short and uncomfortable." I hoped that would satisfy this suddenly precocious kid.
"I like the bed," he said. "And I'm even taller than dad was, so the couch is out for me."
The kid was being surprisingly brazen but I knew I would have to deal with the sleeping arrangements sooner or later. I was hoping it would be later.
I changed the subject. "Hey, we gotta air out the sheets and blankets on the clothes line. Let's get moving."
We readied the oil lamps; we brought six-packs of beer and a few cans of soda down to the lake and immersed the mesh bags that held them for later enjoyment. We put away the canned goods -- soups, beans, vegetables and bags of marshmallows -- into the single cabinet near the sink.
I showed Josh the outhouse -- this was Maine -- and we gathered some logs and placed them next to the wood burning stove inside. I warned Josh that Maine gets cold at night, that I hoped he had brought warm clothing. While I had visions of his naked body, I was still obligated to be Uncle Ted and guard his well-being.
"Josh, that's enough tidying, let's go for a swim, so I grabbed two towels and we ambled down to the lake. Josh said he had forgotten his Speedos, but I assured him that I always swam in my underwear up here. I started to strip off my shirt and loosen my belt on my jeans. Josh followed. I avoided staring at him, but who could resist? He was beautiful in his smooth innocence as he peeled down to his stark white Jockey shorts.
He swam and I, in red boxer briefs, watched, as his wet sandy-colored hair turned darker. I swam toward him and got him in a clinch. He was taller, but I was stronger. I picked him up, tossing him into the clear water. As he flew through the air, I had a glancing look at the bulge in his wet tighteys. His penis looked long and full. Moments later, he threw me another curve, sheepishly looking at me with a question: "Would you mind, Uncle Ted if I swim naked? It's so much freer."
I nodded OK, not sure if it was a good idea. But there it was — would you believe it? Unlike his Dad and unlike me, the kid had a pink foreskin sitting atop a nice pair of balls, a long one at that, as he looked away and gave me a chance to view it. How did that happen? Perhaps Mike had secretly sampled uncut men in his travels and wanted his son to keep his skin.
We both were having a terrific time, perhaps for different reasons. Josh was showing off his swimming skills while enjoying the beauty of nature and I was enjoying the beauty of Josh.
I saw him slither through the water, go under, and the next thing I knew he had grabbed my legs and I tumbled back and under with a loud splash. He was stronger than I thought. He mounted me and I could feel his penis and balls against my back. We were like two little kids, even though I was 50.
Time flew by and I could see the late afternoon sun fading. We needed to stop the frolicking and catch some fish. I grabbed bucket of worms we had purchased en route and pushed the rowboat into the water, and we set for a deeper part of the lake. I coached Josh on threading a hook and waiting patently for a bite. The kid was a natural at that, too. He caught two good-sized lake trout, one bass, a pickerel to my three fish. We had a good chuckle and I was happy to see the kid smile, as we looked forward to a tasty dinner.
I built a fire on rocks near the cabin and we settled in, eating trout and beans, cooked on a camp fire, and drank beer. The scene reminded me of my times here with Mike.
We were in mosquito country, so I sprayed Josh's long legs, rubbing the harshly scented liquid on them. We had changed into long-sleeved jerseys and shorts, so our legs were enticing meat for the pests that hang out near lakes. I was wishing Josh were still naked so I could spray and touch his butt as well. As we lay by the campfire, Josh stretched out and asked if he could have one more beer. Against my better judgment I got one for myself as well.
Usually the silent type, Josh carried the conversation. "Tell me, what did you and dad do up here at night? I don't remember much about him, but I remember he was excited about going on trips with you and was in such a good mood when he returned."
I came up with the expected. "We pretty much did what we're doing — swam, fished, talked, cooked dinners. We went hiking in the daytime."
"Did you guys fool around together, too?"
I gulped. "Hmmm ... not sure what you mean, Josh."
"I need to tell you something, Uncle Ted." I know that you like men — Mom told me a while back — and I have wondered if my dad did, too. It's OK. I know about guys who like guys."
"What brought this up, Josh? We've never talked about it before."
