markwildyr.com, Post #119
|Courtesy of PickPik|
Last week, we left soccer player Rick Stinson arriving at Lake Manitou with his newly discovered idol, Gordie Loesser, the team’s goalie. Taken by surprise at the invitation to drive to the lake with Gordie, Rick is more or less at sea (please pardon the mixed metaphors—you know, lake/sea). So what does happen. Read on.
Manitou Lake is a considerable body of water for the southwest, but I guess it didn’t measure up compared to those back east. Most of them were natural, Gordie told me.
“This one’s man-made,” he said. “You can tell the difference because back home the trees come right down to the water. These were cut away to make room for the lake. It’s pretty neat. Don’t know where they came up with the name, though. Manitou’s a name the Indians use back east.”
My mind wasn’t on the lake’s name. “Shoulda brought our swimming trunks.”
He looked at me and grinned, almost making me wet my pants. “Don’t need ‘em.” He grabbed a blanket from the back seat and got out of the Explorer. “Come on.”
I followed him out of the parking lot as he headed off down a faint trail. Pretty soon, I understood what he meant. At the end of the path, the shoreline bent, making a little sheltered cove. It was as if we’d been transported somewhere. We could faintly hear the laughter and shouts of people in the main swimming area, but mostly it was quiet and peaceful, filled with chirps of birds, the chatter of squirrels, and the lush aroma of evergreens and wildflowers. A world of our own, so to speak.
He spread the blanket in a grassy area, proceeded to kick off his sandals, shed his pullover, and wiggle out of his shorts.. My eyes fixed on what he revealed. I’d seen him naked in the locker room a hundred times after practice or following a game, but this was different. You know, different!
“You coming?” he asked as he turned and raced for the water.
I came out of my fog, stripped, and splashed in after him.
We swam for half an hour or so, going far out into the lake before turning and making our way back to the shore. He morphed into a playful otter when we reached the shallows. Diving and coming up between my legs and tumbling me over. Grabbing me around the waist and throwing me up into the air. I seized the opportunity and tried to turn the tables on him. He was bigger and stronger than I was, so I wasn’t as successful, but I did cop a feel or two, mostly by accident. The last time he tossed me up out of the water, I was afraid he’d seen the condition I was in. When I surfaced, I called time and scanned his face. So far as I could tell he hadn’t glimpsed my roaring erection.
Gordie splashed up onto the shore. “Time for a rest, anyway,”
I about panicked. No way I could get out of the water now. “In a minute, I said, turning my back on him and swimming a little way out into the deeper water. By the time I got back, my blood was behaving, not all pooling in one specific place. I was only a little swollen when I marched up to him. His curious stare almost undid everything, but I fell down on the blanket, water and all, in time to avert disaster.
Gordie flopped over on his back and closed his eyes. “Time for a nap.”
Sitting upright beside him, I took the opportunity to inventory his entire physique from head to toe. Good grief! This guy was impressive. Perfectly formed. Not too big, but certainly not too little. Except the groin area. All of that equipment looked pretty impressive. I think I licked my lips. When my gaze moved up his body, I found he’d opened his eyes. My cheeks flamed when I realized he’d caught me ogling his nakedness.
“Do I pass muster?” he asked in a low growl.
“I—I’m sorry. I just…. I don’t know what—”
Embarrassed, I lay back and covered my eyes with a forearm. I heard him move beside me and opened my eyes. He was sitting up, grinning at me.
“Turn about’s fair play.” With that, he shifted his gaze to my torso.
I wanted to turn over, cover myself with my hand, do something, but he forestalled me with one hand on my right shoulder and another on my thigh.
“Oh, no. You got a good look. Now so do I.”
I watched his face as his gaze took in every inch of me. When his eyes moved back to my core, I couldn’t help myself. I began to harden.
He grabbed my left wrist and pinned it to the blanket when I tried to hide my genitals. That left him leaning over me, our faces close. He lowered his head and covered my lips with his, turning me into melted butter. My head buzzed so hard I barely heard him when he lifted his head.
“You know, you are a babe. Maybe I’ll start calling you that… but only when we’re, you know…alone.”
Then he covered me and took what he wanted. And welcome to it!
Please don’t try to tell my you are surprised. Surprise was not the intent… something more like titillation was the goal. Let me know how you liked the story.
I do believe some more Curt Huntinghawk will come along next time. Hope you’re not tired of him.
Tell your friends to order a copy of Cut Hand and Johnny Two-Guns from Dreamspinner Press. I’d like to convince them to publish the rest of the Cut Hand Series, including the unpublished manuscript Wastelakapi… Beloved, It’ll take some help from readers to get Dreamspinner interested.
My contact information is provided below in case anyone wants to drop me a line:
Website and blog: markwildyr.com
The following are buy links for CUT HAND:
DSP Publications: https://www.dsppublications.com/books/cut-hand-by-mark-wildyr-420-b
And now my mantra: Keep on reading. Keep on writing. You have something to say, so say it!
Until next time.
New posts at 6:00 a.m. on the first and third Thursday of each month.