The Watering Hole

At age 25 hiking has become my favorite form of exercise. The fresh air, the hot sun, the peaceful surroundings and scenery are a far cry from the skyscrapers, asphalt lots, traffic and crowds of pedestrians in the city. The stationery bikes, elliptical and chlorinated pool at the gym had become a thing of the past thanks to COVID.

A recent Saturday morning saw me and my longtime bestie Matt Lawton hiking the trail to Wet Beaver Creek. Though he walks a long distances, he's generally found at city parks or on sidewalks.

We had met in high school as seniors on the varsity baseball team. He pitched. I played short stop. A casual friendship that began with chats about baseball and classes gradually deepened as personal information came out.

About 3 and a half miles into our hike we came to a clear, cold, deep pool known as "The Crack". The watering hole is surrounded by a sandstone formation and shady trees that seem to grow out of the rocks.

Sweat soaked my teeshirt. Though my breathing was normal, my body felt clammy.

"That was a grueling walk, wasn't it?"

I gave him a nod then said "You'll get use to it. The first hundred miles are the hardest."

He grinned at my response then found a spot where he plopped down.

I sat beside him. He turned his head letting his lips touch mine. The kiss was tentative then he backed away. My gaze remained fixed on him.

We kissed again, this time pouring years pent up passion into the embrace.

"I've wanted to do that since twelfth grade."

"But you didn't," I replied in a matter of fact tone.

"I couldn't until I saw the way you look at me when you thought I didn't notice."

A lot of memories had been stored away over the 7 years that we've known one another. The baseball practices, playing the games on Friday night, hanging out, riding our rides and playing chess all strengthened the bond. There was the small talk, his quips and the laughter. We came of age and sat in barrooms drinking beers together. We celebrated the wedding of his brother Jason at a strip club. Through it all neither of us could express any feelings deeper than friendship until we did.

I took a deep breath then spoke freely. "I've known for a long time that I'm gay so I started seeing a psychiatrist, doctor Alan Dayton."

"Was it helpful?"

"Very helpful," I replied. "He's gay."

"Is he an old guy, a young guy?"

"I'd say he's in his 40s. He's X military."

"Sounds like you guys got to know each other," Matt replied.

"We got to know each other very well. He even talked about his husband and how they met."

The water looked inviting so I undressed down to Navy trunks and made my way down the slope. I had just reached the water when I spotted Matt walking nude down the slope.

"Nice body," I quipped.

His brawny frame held my gaze. At 5' 8" tall, he is my height exactly, though more muscular.

Together we waded into deeper water then dipped ourselves. After a few seconds we resurfaced.

He pulled me into a hug pressing his lips on my lips. His hands slid to my buttocks as his hard dick brushed mine. The kiss deepened. His hand crept to my cock closing loosely around the shaft.

In that moment nothing else mattered. So what if we can be seen.

"Let's head back to the car and I could go for a pizza and beer."

By late afternoon as the shadows lengthened we came to the pizza restaurant that is one of our favorite eateries. His fingers touched mine on our outdoor table as his eyes held my eyes.

In the past my eyes would've followed a strikingly handsome waiter such as the dark-haired, brown-eyed hunk who was serving us. Suddenly I only have eyes for Matthew Lawton.

The sun was very low when we came back to my apartment.

"Let's play (chess)," I challenged.

"OK, you know you can't ever beat me."

"I that so?"

"Loser buys condoms and lube for next 6 months."

"You're on," I replied.

Matt never stops trash talking. Sometimes I laugh but I'm always inspired to concentrate harder, analyse more thoroughly.

"You can't do that," he quipped.

"Why not? I like the move."

I had just positioned a knight on the sixth rank.

"You cramp my style. I'll cramp yours."

He didn't like that I was restricting his moves.

The game continued as did the trash talking.

"Let me teach you how the game is played."

I finally answered him. "I'm going here."

Having said that, I slid a rook onto the open file

"That move does nothing. You know that, don't you?"

Approximately twenty minutes had elapsed before the finish, a spectacular checkmate accomplished by a rook sacrifice.

Stunned, he looked at me as though in disbelief.

"One more game?"

"Yes, make it best of three," I replied.

The next two games combined consumed another hour. A glance toward the window revealed darkness had fallen.

We left the board at my diningroom table and retired to the sofa. He pulled me into a kiss as he slid a hand into my jeans. My manhood stiffened against his palm inside my pants. His cock had stiffened as well putting a telltale bulge at the zipper region.

Minutes later we dashed naked to my bed, having scattered clothing on the livingroom floor. I rolled onto my back raising one leg high over head letting him penetrate me deep. My hole tingled as it stretched to accommodate his 6-inch shaft. Grunts escaped my throat masking my intense delight in having his tool inside me.

When finally broke away breaths came shallow. His finger circled my navel spreading the cum which I had shot.

"That was so awesome."

"It was," he agreed.

Matt sauntered into the kitchen on Sunday morning while I was sipping a coffee, my first. He stopped at the counter to pour a cup then took a seat on my right.

"What shall we do today," I asked.

"Whatever you want to do? Are you up for another long walk?"

"And another skinny dip," I quipped.