Carl and Mark sat across from one another staring into the campfire. Each lost in his own thoughts, comfortable enough with one another to allow the silence to stretch out as the sun sank slowly over the tree tops. The disappearance of the sun did not take away the oppressive heat of a midsummer night in southern Mississippi.
Carl watched sparks jump deep within the heart of the burning wood, savoring the unique beauty of the fire. He wondered quietly to himself how many more of these trips he would have with his best friend. Each had graduated earlier in the summer, and had vowed to remain close as they began the next phase in life. Their summer camping trips had been a tradition going back to the early days of their friendship. As soon as their fathers had given them permission to camp on the two hundred acre property they had managed to make it into the woods at least twice a month.
He watched Mark swat at the mosquitos that plagued the area this time of the year. The smoke offered little protection from the pests, neither did the various bug sprays that he had accidently left sitting on the counter back at the house.
The silence was broken as Mark swore loudly at a particularly annoying insect that seemed to feel his ear was a good place to rest its weary wings.
"These damn things are going to eat us live," he said, "next time for God's sake please don't forget the spray."
Carl chuckled and tossed him the flask he had been holding. "Take a nip of this. It'll help you forget the bugs."
Mark shook his head giving Carl a wry look before tilting the flask back and enjoying a very large portion of Uncle George's moonshine.
"Holy crap, that is strong. How much have you had?"
"I don't know. Too much by the way you keep getting hazy." Carl swatted a mosquito. "I don't remember having this kind of insect problem when we started all of this."
"We were too busy having fun back then to think about it, I guess," Mark answered, "We used to find better ways to spend our time than drink."
Carl's fuzzy mind felt a tug. Could Mark be referring to the one topic they never discussed? They had fiddled with each other before. Back in their senior year of high school and a few times in their early years of college. Never anything major. Just an exchange of handjobs and blowjobs between friends. Could he be bringing it up?
"You know, we used to go swimming pretty much every time we came out here."
...Apparently he wasn't.
"Oh yeah, I remember. Those were the good ol' days weren't they? Just two friends, naked and swimming in the moonlight; probably a good thing the girls don't know."
Mark laughed, "It certainly is, you know how jealous they get. We had some good times back in the day. We should do it again someday. Dammit, let's go right now. Anything is better than being eaten alive by mosquitos."
Carl stood up, elated at the idea. "I'm game. I'll get a flashlight. The pond isn't all that far away."
As it turned out, the pond was in fact "that far away." The area had grown up since the last time they had camped out, and neither was completely sure the correct way to the pond. But after forty minutes pushing thru the bramble and the thorns they stumbled out to the edge of the small pond.
Carl wasted no time in stripping off his shirt and shorts and throwing his briefs onto a branch and plunging in. As he resurfaced he realized that Mark had not followed him into the dark waters. He looked around and saw him standing on the bank.
Mark may not have jumped in, but he was ready to. His clothes lay in a rumpled pile beside him. He stood, hands on his hips in the light of the moon, looking like a Grecian sculpture. His muscular form was crisp and neat. Each muscle thrown into stark relief as the moon turned his normally tan skin into alabaster and contrasted with the dark shadows surrounding them.
Carl felt an involuntary twitch between his legs. He was getting aroused! What the hell? Those days were long gone, they were much younger then, this was different. He was glad that he was waist deep in the water so his friend could not see his reaction.
"Are you going to come in," he yelled trying to keep the strange hoarseness out of his voice. He hoped Mark would listen, the sight of that body was doing things to him and he hoped it being submerged in water would help. Out of sight out of mind.
But Mark seemed content to just stand there for a moment. He stretched languidly, arching backwards. His hips thrust forward and Carl gave out an accidental gasp. He was not small by any means, but Mark was hanging out a tool that made him shudder with suppressed desire.
Mark must have heard the gasp because he was looking at Carl intently.
"Dude, put that thing away and get in here."
Mark made no indication that he heard or cared. He continued to stare.
Carl was quickly approaching full on panic. Why in hell was he getting aroused? He wasn't gay...was he? He had occasionally looked at gay porn, but only as a curiosity, it didn't mean anything. Did it?
Mark slowly moved a hand to his flaccid member and began stroking it, never taking his eyes off of Carl. It was too much; Carl felt himself begin to grow beneath the water.
"What the fuck, man!" He was shocked and excited and altogether confused. Mark however seemed to feel anything but confused; he was slowly working himself into a proud erection under Carl's startled gaze.
"I told you I wanted it to be like the old times, Carl. This is pretty much how I remember it. Except, I think you were closer."
