(Takes up where Part One ends.)
It was still warm and sunny when I got back to my cabin, so I got myself a beer and sat on the deck.
Just to be clear, I wasn't feeling guilty about having done something sexual with a guy. It was not, as the saying goes, my first rodeo.
Back in college, I'd gotten drunk one night with my roommate, and we wound up watching porn together. Naturally we both got hardons. When he suggested jacking off I said no at first, but he kept asking and eventually wore me down.
At his suggestion we took off our pants and sat on the couch with our backs against the armrests, legs almost but not quite touching. I remember how exciting it was to watch another guy masturbate, and to match him stroke for stroke. We both came fast and hard, and I nearly doubled over from the intensity of the experience.
After that night we beat off together several times. We never went so far as to touch each other, though I sensed we both wanted to. I couldn't work up the nerve to suggest it, and I guess he couldn't either.
I'd had no further experiences with guys after that, but I did think of my roommate from time to time and occasionally beat off at the memory of our encounters. And while I thought of myself as a straight person, I was honest enough to admit that I still had a flicker of interest in gay sex.
All this came to mind again as I sat on the deck, sipping my beer. I had gotten hard again, so I got my cock out and wanked to a second orgasm. Without bothering to clean up I lay back and closed my eyes, and soon I fell asleep.
I woke up about an hour later, very hungry. The cum from my second wank had dried on my shirt, so I went inside to change.
Dinner was steak, salad and a hunk of garlic bread. When I went back outside afterward it had cooled considerably, so I headed back in and built a fire in the fireplace. I sat in front of it for a long time, sipping scotch and thinking about what might happen when I saw MIke the next week.
Once again I got hard, and before I went to bed I jacked off for the third time that day.
"Well," I thought. "Here we are."
*****
Needless to say, it was a long week. I struggled to stay focused at work, distracted frequently by thoughts of Mike.
I had visions of him undressing by the stream, of his thick cock hardening before my eyes, of his hand moving up and down his shaft, of cum shooting out of his slit. Every time this happened my dick would start to harden, and I'd have to hide behind my desk until it went away.
I jacked off a lot, too. I wasn't crazy enough to do it at work, but the urge got the better of me one night after when I was having drinks with some colleagues. When I got to my car afterward I whipped out my cock and did it right there in the dark parking lot. I had to wipe cum off the steering wheel.
Afterward I felt stupid and ashamed.
You need to get a grip.
When Friday finally came I threw my stuff in the car and headed up to the cabin. I got hardons off and on all evening, and I wanted nothing more than to have a wank, but I managed not to succumb to the temptation. In some weird way I was "saving" myself for Mike.
Holy fuck, what has gotten into me?
The next day I was nervous as a cat, pacing around the cabin, picking things up and putting them down, starting little projects and failing to finish them.
It occurred to me that I didn't know exactly what time I'd encountered Mike the week before, so I couldn't be certain when he'd appear today. In fact, I couldn't be certain he'd appear at all; he could easily have had second thoughts, or something could have prevented him from coming. I tried not to think of those possibilities.
It was about 2 o'clock when I decided I couldn't wait any longer and headed down to the stream. It was another warm day, but the forecast had said it likely would rain later in the afternoon. I hoped the clouds would stay away long enough for Mike and me to do whatever we were going to do.
When I got to the pool I stripped off my clothes and lay down on the rock, letting the sun warm my skin. It wasn't long before I heard someone coming down the path on my side of the stream.
For a moment I worried that someone other than Mike was coming to fish in the pool, so I was relieved when he emerged from the trees.
Suddenly I was very excited.
"Hey," I said, smiling. "Glad you could make it."
He looked at my growing cock and said, "Wouldn't have missed this for the world."
Two seconds later he was naked, and again I was mesmerized by the sight of his swollen cock.
He sat down next to me, close enough that his knee touched mine. I felt a little thrill go through me.
As if on cue, we both lay down on our sides again, facing each other. Precum was already dripping from the end of his dick. I was shaking from excitement.
We took hold of our cocks and started stroking. But after a few strokes MIke reached over, pushed my hand away and took my cock in his hand.
I let out a gasp. It was the first time another guy had ever touched my dick, and it was a moment I will never forget.
"Lie on your back," he said.
I did. He moved closer, propped himself on one elbow and adjusted his grip. Then he started stroking.
I noticed immediately how different it felt to have a man's hand on my cock instead of a woman's.