Renewed Friendship

My one night with Mark left me with food for thought during my long flight back to Denver. As I gazed out the airplane window the reasons to move back to my roots and the reasons to remain in my current home kept playing in my head. Twenty years had passed since I transferred to the mid western branch of the bank. I had made a life there with friends, business associates, and even the apartment condo that I had purchased. On the other hand Mark was in my head and in the Bremerton area with no intentions of moving.

Our boyhood friendship had been off and on. Though I had spent time at his house he did not run with my other friends from the hockey team. Mark and I liked playing basketball at the end of the driveway. My other friends would sometimes play but on a court. Mostly we just skated and played baseball in the summer.

In the fall of 1983 I went off to college and this is the point when my life took a turn. After years of being curious I had met Alan in the student lounge but that's another story.

Back in Denver less than a week, I found myself yearning for my boyhood friend. Everything, his looks and mannerisms, stuck in my head. It was just the memories of all that as the old song says.

Taking pen in hand I composed the following letter.

" Dear Mark,

I can't seem to get you out of my mind. I've been back home here in Denver for 3 days. I'm really considering moving back home because you're there. I'll put my home on the market. It's a condo.

I added my e-mail address and signed it, "Your friend forever Randal."

The lousy weather and the volcanoes are no big deal I told myself. Meanwhile life went on. The following morning saw another typical day at my office, a day that consisted of tracking selected mutual funds and giving investment advice. I had closed the office at 5 that afternoon and headed home arriving at six. My evening meal consisted of a Healthy Choice microwave dinner washed down with a beer.

About once every two or three days I would check my e -mail and most of it was junk that I generally would discard before opening. One looked interesting. It was a comcast address and these generally used the sender's real name as the address.

I opened the E letter from Mark.

It read, "Hi Randy. It's me Mark. I wish you were here too. I love you!"

That settled the issue. I would give my notice at the office, catch a flight back to Washington, and find the one person I most wanted to have by my side.

This is a pain in the ass I said to myself at 6 am as I coped with the 9 11 security. Outside was still dark. The long wait while guards checked every passenger for a weapon never stopped bothering me just a little.

Finally in daylight the jet lifted off from the runway and climbed into the highest clouds and above. Now I could finally relax. While the jet cruised above the clouds at 35 000 feet I focused on my new paperback novel by Robert Ludlum.

Just before noon I walked down the step ladder onto the tarmac at sunlit Seattle airport. This is a good sign I told myself while walking back to the terminal where I expected to meet Mark.

The two story red brink building on a tree lined street had tennis courts and a well manicured lawn. Here in Mark's home I could relax for a while before starting the job search.

"Nice building," I said as we walked inside together.

"I like it for the tennis court."

"My place in Colorado had a nice view of the mountains."

"You play tennis?"

"No," I replied. "When did you take up that sport?"

"After college," he answered.

We sat in the small kitchen and bringing other up to date while enjoying a beer. My first impression of him was quite correct. He did make a living in fashion.

"It's exciting to watch the ladies walk the runway wearing my creations."

This boy who surrounded himself with girls during high school seemed feminine enough for people to sense that he's gay. Telling this to the alumni was stating the obvious.

We brought each other up to date. I talked about hanging up my skates and coaching 11 and 12 year old boys.

It was a good day for sight seeing when we awoke the following morning bound for Mount Rainier. I had not been to the forested land at the foot of the snow capped volcano in years. It would be romantic I told myself.

The redwood stained picnic table surrounded by pine trees with some birds whistling was the perfect spot for us that Friday morning. We had or chest stocked with ice, bottled water and sandwiches.

Passions that welled up inside induced making love. Mark took my hand in his and rested it on his thigh. I turned, stared into his eyes, and kissed his lips lightly. Neither of us cared if any one saw us.

It was becoming more and more difficult as the day passed to control our passions. Our lips pressed again. This time was a lingering kiss that lasted several seconds. My cock began to stir. My lover's hand moved slowly gently up my thigh coming to rest on my sex and arousing it.

We settled down after a few minutes to the task of putting up the tent, a canvas house that could hold a third person. It would become the ideal love nest.

While the radio played blues softly my boyfriend and I made love passionately on the floor. I pulled his jeans slowly down then pressed my lips to the bulge in his white briefs. After a couple of seconds I pulled off his briefs and touched my lips to the smooth pink head giving it a soft kiss. He threw his arms around my shoulders holding tight and pulled his knees up and his feet back over his head. My throbbing huge sex pushed slowly deep into that orifice to the sound of soft guttural moans.

"That feels so good. Don't stop!"

We made love well into the night before rolling off to rest and drift off to sleep.