"Ick," he screeched, his face contorting into a disgusted grimace. "There is no way I am putting that in my mouth after you."
"Fuck's sake, Michael," Wade replied, yanking the bottle from his friend's hands, "it's a fucking water bottle and we only have the one to share until we return to the campground tomorrow. You forgot yours, remember?"
"Well, can't you just filter some more water, use that to wash this one, and then filter some more water and fill it for me? I am thirsty!" he whined.
"Even if I wanted to," Wade was clearly irritated, "there is no water source nearby and the water filter, as you call it, is actually a UV water sanitizer that runs on rechargeable batteries. I have enough charge for two more cycles, enough to get us to camp comfortably but not enough that I am going to waste water washing a water bottle full of clean water because you can't share it because it was touched by another man's lips. What kind of a fag are you?"
"Ugh!" Michael cried. "I'm going to die of thirst! This is horrible! Why did I agree to this?"
"Because you wanted this," Kevin replied, walking back into the light of the campfire. His hand gripping the large bulge that nested his 9 inch cock and heavy, peach-sized testicles. "The rules are, you come camping, you get some Kevin. It's for your own good, we are doing this for you."
"It feels like torture! I am being compelled against my will to be here," he cried, feigning agony and despair, his face pouty and his arms crossed in front of his chest.
"You know that's not true. You are here because you saw me naked on Wade's phone," Kevin reminded the young man, sulking near the crackling campfire his friends had built, sitting on a purchased fold-out chair he insisted on bringing because there was no way he was going to be sitting on the ground where animals poo and pee and screw.
"I don't even know why you care," Michael snapped back. "Why bother seducing me out here to have some tropical disease-ridden mosquito or some intestinal worm crawl into my body and, aaaaaaagh!" He could not finish the thought. It was much too much and all he could do was shake his hands wildly as if by doing so the nasty worm and tropical mosquito would be scared away.
"First of all," Wade replied, "we are in Maine, not the fucking Congo. Second of all, you are a fucking basket case. How can you live in this world and be like this? When was the last time you had sex?"
Michael furrowed his brow, he looked away and mumbled something inaudible.
"What was that?" Wade asked, trying to lean closer to Michael.
Michael rolled his eyes and looked at the two men across the fire from him. "It depends, I guess. Do hand jobs count?"
"Did you wear a glove?" Wade asked.
Michael rolled his eyes again and nodded.
"Then no," Wade clarified, "it does not count. And who the fuck agreed to a hand job with a glove?"
"Escort." Michael replied.
"Ok, let me ask it more plainly, when was the last time a man slid his fat cock into your fucking gullet? No condom, no latex, just meaty, hot as coals, thick as a wrist, cock?" Wade was practically yelling.
"Don't be mean," Michael whined and again spoke something inaudible into the night sky.
Both men stared at him, he knew they had not heard his whispered reply. He sighed, "Fine! Six years! You happy? It's been six years without touching a cock and eight since I sucked one or had one up my, you know, my bum."
Wade and Kevin broke into raucous laughter. Michael did not appreciate being the butt of jokes and he would have stomped off but the back country, at night, was as close to terror as things could get for him and he had no choice but to sit quietly and pout.
Kevin took some pity on the poor germophobe. He was a handsome man, perhaps made effeminate by his obsession with cleanliness, he was fussy in a way most men were not, but to look at him before he spoke, one would see an athletic, tall, appealing man in his late twenties, 28 to be exact. Kevin had seen Michael many times at the gym, bending over to wipe down every machine before he used it, between sets, and then again after he had used it. On the days he worked out, the cleaning crew took a two-hour break, they adored him.
He had a muscular physique, with a well-defined chest and large arms that could have belonged to a professional baseball player. His abs were flat, though not defined or particularly well cut. His ass, on the other hand, was a spectacular specimen. He liked to wear tight leggings to work out and he put on a show every time he bent over. More than once, Kevin had popped wood at the gym watching the large muscular glutes, cheeks round and plump, bending over or squatting. In those moments he had wanted to mount his boyfriend's good buddy, they had first met through Wade, but had refrained because Michael had a well won reputation for being incredibly fastidious, and Kevin could not even begin to imagine what headaches a fuck might entail.
His face, too, was attractive; large brown eyes were framed by the long lashes of good Italian stock. His chestnut hair was cut short, held tightly in place where it happened to be a little longer by copious amounts of gel, pomade, and other products.
Kevin was not sure how to help, but he wanted to help. He stepped closer to Michael who instinctively recoiled at the intrusion into his half of the campfire.
"What are you doing?" Michael asked, his voice laced with suspicion.
Kevin squatted in front of his friend, his face just a few inches from Michael's, his eyes warm and friendly, the pale blue color seemed to glow in the fire light. "Would you kiss me, Michael?" Kevin asked.
