The Wedding

"I think we should wait, Stephen."

"Don, they'll be totally cool with it. They might even think it's great news."

"But you can't be sure. Let's just wait till after the long drive. OK?"

"For Pete's sake, Don! They're my parents! I have to tell them. They've been very supportive with all of my previous relationships. I can't imagine they'll be any different now. Besides, my parents and I have always been open and honest with each other. I'm not going to wait, Don."

As they had done once before, Stephen's parents, Stan and Terri, picked us up on a Saturday morning in Waynesboro, VA. Stephen had no worries whatsoever about breaking our news to them, but I was nervous, unsure of how they would react. Gay marriage is not a topic one could bring up lightly; some reactions could be downright belligerent. But his parents were thrilled when he told them immediately after hugging them, and both began excitedly to contribute ideas for the wedding. It was the main topic of conversation during the drive from Waynesboro to Manassas, VA, where we stayed at their home for a week.

I enjoyed being in the home where Stephen grew up, seeing his little apartment above his parents' garage, with all the things he had accumulated--his trophies, martial arts paraphernalia, musical instruments, even his stack of bear porn magazines and DVD's--and pouring over all the photos his parents had taken of him. Stephen grinned and laughed as they shared stories--some quite embarrassing--about him over dinner. I laughed with him and was sorely tempted to kiss him.

As we fell into bed that first night in his apartment, he pinched my nipple and said reprovingly, "And you wanted to wait to tell them."

"I deserved that. I'm just not used to being ... gay."

"Still? I guess I'll have to help you along more."

He pushed me onto my back and climbed up my hairy chest. He shoved his long penis into my eager mouth and fucked my face. His cock was hard in my mouth, and he fucked me so aggressively. I was moaning, my body on fire with desire. I caressed his body. In the course of the 2000+ miles he had hiked, his short, buff physique had steadily shed lean body mass. He was too lean. I could see his protruding ribcage above my face, and his hard ass was now bony. Stephen often joked on the trail, "Have you seen my ass somewhere? It seems to have vanished." But his legs were huge and rock-hard, just like his cock at that moment.

I was in similar physical condition. He wasn't as anal about keeping track of his weight, but every pound I lost was a triumph worth celebrating. I was leaner and fitter than I've ever been in my adult life. The weight loss was costly as I had to regularly buy new hiking apparel; I couldn't simply cinch my belt tighter the way Stephen could. The costs were unimportant to me, though. I had money saved up, so I was free to celebrate and shop as needed.

Stephen climbed off me. We positioned ourselves on our sides. I took his cock in my mouth, and he took mine in his. My fingers slipped into his anus, and his into mine. We moaned heavily, loudly, sucking and finger-fucking with abandon, not caring if the noise carried into the main house. We forestalled our orgasms as long as we could, forcing our trembling bodies to let the pressure build. Stephen picked up his pace, and I followed suit. Our moans crescendoed. I felt as though my balls would blow up. My moans were amplified by my desperation: desperate to relief the pressure and desperate not to come before Stephen came. My legs were thrashing now. I could not control my mouth to continue sucking on his cock. Stephen rammed his cock down my throat, and it pulsed, spewing his creamy fluids down my gullet. I gagged trying to cry out in ecstatic release as my own cock blasted Stephen's throat.

"Ass up!" Stephen commanded, his voice deep and rough.

I got onto my knees and stuck my ass up, reaching back with my hands to spread my smooth buns apart. He spit onto my asshole and then homed in with his tongue. I moaned and ground my face into the mattress. I felt like an electrical storm was raging from my ass all the way up my spine, making me tremble and gasp. Stephen pulled back and rammed his fingers into me. His fingers dug around inside my cavity, pressing forward, stretching the hole wide, prodding my prostate. He withdrew his fingers and said, "Nice and clean. Gotta love that shower douche." He had pulled out his shower douche and shown me how to use it when we had come back to his apartment after dinner. Stephen spit on my hole one more time and then plugged me up with all eight inches of his cock.

"Oh, yes, fuck me, Stephen!" The old me would never say such a thing. My parents forbade foul language, and I had always been an obedient son. But I was a new man now. I wanted to be fucked; I had no scruples about it.

Stephen plowed me roughly, tenderizing the exterior of my ass with his palms as he tenderized the interior with his cock. I was in heaven, and it lasted a good while. When he was ready to shoot, he climbed completely onto my back, ramming his swelling cock all the way in. I roared into the mattress as he shot his load inside me and I shot mine into my cupped hand. He climbed off, and I rolled to my side. Stephen took my cupped hand in his and lifted it to his face. His eyes met mine as his tongue lapped at the shallow pool of semen in my hand. Whatever inhibitions I may have had evaporated completely. I scooted close to him and took his cock into my mouth. It was coated with a mixture of his come and my anal juices, but there was no brown shit on it, not even the smell of shit. Frankly, I didn't care that his cock was relatively clean. I would have sucked it no matter what. I sucked his cock clean and said, "I want more."

"My, aren't we being raunchy tonight." Stephen slapped my ass, climbed over my hips, shoved his cock back into my juicy ass, and then climbed over again, bringing his sodden cock to my mouth. "You're such a piggy!" he declared as I slurped the juices off his cock. He leaned over my side and pulled on the back of my thigh. I curled up into a fetal position, my ass big and round. He rummaged about in my ass with his fingers, then fed me his wet fingers. I mewled like a happy baby sucking on a mother's teat.

Stephen fucked me once more. This time he fucked me on my back with my thick, hairy legs up in the air, his grip strong on my ankles. I coated the soft black fur on my chest and belly with my white cream. He fed me my own semen with his fingers before he fed me his cock and his semen from my well-fucked hole.

He moved till we were face to face. We kissed, tasting each other. Stephen turned and curled up on his side, his smooth cheek on my outstretched arm, his back to my chest, my moist, diminishing cock against his bony ass. I wrapped an arm and a leg around him, holding him tight to me.

We slept late into the morning and arrived freshly showered but still groggy into his parents' kitchen.

"It's a wonder you got any sleep," Stan said to us.

"You mean it's a wonder we got any sleep," Terri corrected her husband.

"What are you going on about?" Stephen asked.

"You two! That's what! Moaning and moaning and moaning."

"Your father and I had to make our own moans to drown yours out."

Then the three of them broke down into hysterical fits of laughter, doubling over and clutching their guts when they weren't pointing at me. "Oh, Don, my poor bear! Your face is all red!" Stephen finally blurted out when his laughter subsided sufficiently.

"Don, as you can see, we're quite open about sex," Stan said, clarifying the obvious.

I smiled weakly at them, still uncomfortable and embarrassed. "I see," I said lamely.

"Oh, Don! You're so cute!" Stephen said and kissed me smack on the lips right in front of his parents. He wasn't making it any easier for me; but he was smiling broadly at me, and I couldn't help but smile back.

For the next few days, we took trips into the greater DC metropolitan area to visit some museums and monuments and meet up with some of his friends. Many of his friends were young, gay men like himself. A few of his friends actually flirted with me, to which Stephen declared, "He's all mine! You may look, but hands off!" His aggressive and possessive tone stirred something within me. It aroused me, sent titillating ripples down my back. Again, I smiled weakly, though this time I had to suppress an erection. The day before Thanksgiving, Stephen took me to Old Town Alexandria and introduced me to his former co-workers. On our way back to Manassas, we stopped in at George Mason University, where he had gone for his undergraduate.

The week ended with a tremendous Thanksgiving meal. I've never been very helpful in the kitchen, so I kept out of the way as Stephen and his parents cooked. They worked together harmoniously, communicating with simple words, gestures, or just a look. However busy he was, he never forgot me. He'd steal glances at me and smile. He'd come over to me with a spoon full of whatever they were making and say, "What d'you think?" My answer was always an appreciative "Delicious!"

His Aunt Lucy and her husband David arrived with their twin twelve-year-old daughters, Stephanie and Bethany. His grandparents on both sides of the family arrived shortly thereafter. Stephen would introduce me to them as his husband-to-be. His grandfather Dwight rolled his eyes at this and walked off without shaking my hand, but everyone else seemed genuinely pleased with our engagement. The food was extremely satisfying, and the conversations were jovial and energetic. Stephen and I ate as though we could pad our skins and bones with enough protein and fat all in one meal. Everyone at the table marveled as we ate and ate and ate. They called us "ravenous beasts" and "bottomless pits."

Stephen and I were fortunate to complete our thru-hike of the Appalachian Trail in time to celebrate Thanksgiving with his family. It was a chance to see him in his home environment, completely open and at ease with his family. My love for him grew.

On Saturday morning, we loaded up Stephen's little Mini with our backpacks, the few clothes that he could still wear, an acoustic guitar, and a few other personal belongings. We headed east on I-66, onto the Beltway, and then northward on I-95. Stephen put the car on cruise, stretched out his legs, and held my hand. I brought his hand to my lips. I kissed his long, slender fingers, smiling at his manicured nails. Before I knew what I was doing, I had his fingers in my mouth, lovingly licking and sucking on them. I grew so horny that I guided his wet fingers to my bulging crotch. During the long stretches of highway driving, he'd fondle my hard-on and balls through my nylon hiking pants. I parted my legs wide and reclined the seat. He edged me for nearly four hours, his hand abandoning my loins every now and then to shift gears or grab a quick snack or drink. I was a blubbering mess. I'd beg, whimper, and whine to be allowed to come, but Stephen continued torturing me. I could have easily jerked myself, but I wanted Stephen to make me come. I wanted him to be in control. When I finally exploded, just before we crossed the NJ/NY boundary, I screamed and banged my first on the ceiling. The fabric rubbing against my sensitive cockhead and the resistance my fluids encountered because of the fabric made my orgasm almost painfully intense. My body floundered in the car seat like a fish tossed onto dry land. Stephen held out his wet hand to me, and I raised the back of the seat. He fed me my own semen on his hand, rubbing my wet crotch to gather more semen after I licked clean his hand.

I moaned around his fingers, pausing my licking long enough to say, "I like it when you're in control, Stephen. Do you?"

"It's fun," he said.

"I'd like it if you were in control all the time."

"All the time? I don't know, Don. Won't that get a little old after a while? I like variety."

"You haven't complained."

"I didn't feel the need. I mean ... you've taken charge before."

"Yeah, back on Killington ... two months ago."

"Has it really been that long? I guess I didn't notice."

"Because you like being in control, Stephen. You like taking me aggressively. It turns you on, just like it turns me on."

"I suppose."

I frowned. "Does it bother you, Stephen? Why can't you just admit it?"

"No, it doesn't bother me, Don. It's just ... I really haven't thought about it. When we have sex and the mood hits me, I enjoy been aggressive. It just happens. I don't think about it."

"I do. A lot. You're so powerful and manly, and I feel so powerless and ... I don't know, not manly."

"Do you feel feminine? I'm not into feminizing men, Don."

"No, I don't feel feminine at all. I feel more like a wild animal than a man, I guess."

"Like a wild bear?"

"Yeah, a wild bear that needs to be tamed."

"Tamed?"

"Tamed ... by you."

"Interesting. Let's talked about it later, Don. Traffic is picking up."

We arrived in North Adams, MA, a little after six in the evening. We unloaded the Mini, showered, dressed, and headed over to my brother Rob's house on the other side of town for a welcome-home party. There, we announced our engagement to my family, and another round of cheerful celebration and excited conversation ensued. We finally stumbled back into my two-storied cape well past midnight, tired and aching. (The body aches would haunt us for almost two months. Our feet were especially troublesome. The first step out of bed was usually excruciating.) We fell into the queen-sized bed, and I whispered to Stephen as I spooned him and wrapped him in my arms, "Welcome home, my love."

With Christmas around the corner, we hastily made preparations for the holiday. I had given up on decorating the house and going out for gift shopping after my painful divorce seven years ago. My ex, Vivian, had said she couldn't stand the sight of me anymore and left me for a fitness trainer. I was less inclined to show myself in public after that. But I came home after my journey of 2500+ miles (including the miles I had repeated) a 6'4", 190-pound "hunk of a bear," to quote Stephen. I had lost over 160 lbs on the trail! (Stephen himself had shed a net total of 30 lbs. His 5'8" and 130-pound body, all lean and tanned, looked positively tiny compared to mine.) His blue eyes looked on me with love and desire. His lips and hands, his entire body, couldn't seem to endure even a few seconds without making contact with mine. And I felt the same about him. I was overflowing with joy. For once in many years, I actually wanted to celebrate Christmas. I yearned for the festive decorations, the day spent with my parents, my brother, and his wife and sons. Not only did we needed to buy a Christmas tree, decorations, and presents; we also needed to buy new clothes that would fit our reduced physiques, yet would have room for us to grow into. I, for one, could not wear any of my former clothes. It was sheer madness, but we were like two teenage girls who had won a shopping spree. I can't remember ever enjoying being a materialistic consumer so much.

It was truly the best Christmas I had ever known. My parents, Norm and Susan, were happily retired and busy traveling to all the places they had dreamed of visiting, but they made sure to be in North Adams to welcome me back home. They had their own ground floor room with a private bathroom in an addition to Rob's house. It was their present from Rob and myself for their joint retirements three years ago so they didn't have to worry about keeping up a house, especially considering they were planning to travel abroad more often than not. My eldest nephew, Phil, was home from Mass Art for the holidays, and his younger brother, Joe, was all excited about his high school football team's recent victories. We were all such happy folk. Well, Rob's wife, Carol, was still a bit chilly, but she had always been that way with me.

After New Year's Day, I went back to work as senior software programmer for the little company my brother and I founded, and Rob helped Stephen get a job as a graphic designer at a local marketing firm. It wasn't a challenging job for him, but it accorded him the time and means to pursue his hobby as a graphic novelist. The days flew by.

We selected the second Saturday after the 4th of July as our wedding date, almost one year to the day we met at Maupin Field Shelter, twenty miles south of Waynesboro. Neither one of us wanted an extravagant, traditional wedding. We just wanted our families and friends to join us in our celebration, and we wanted to celebrate casually. Rob kindly offered up his spacious house with an in-ground swimming pool and a 2-acre backyard for the wedding.

Stephen and I turned a portion of the finished basement of our house into a simple workout room, complete with a punching/kicking bag, free weights, and mats. We had both lost a great deal of lean body mass during our thru-hikes. It was hard work to regain what we had lost, especially for me. I had never been inclined to exercise, and though I did get some physical training prior to getting on the AT, it was mostly designed to lose as much fat as quickly as possible. After the AT, Stephen shouldered the burden of being my personal trainer. It was a burden for him because I was too focused on his lean, tanned body glistening with sweat to spare much attention to the martial arts forms he tried to teach me. It didn't help that we exercised wearing only jockstraps, especially as his bony figure grew robust and chiseled. Clever as he was, he used his own cock to bribe me, promising me a hard fuck if I made an effort to learn the forms. Against such a bribe, I discovered my personal integrity was nonexistent. After warm-up exercises, several reps with the free weights, stretches, an hour of forms, an half-hour of punching and kicking, and another session of stretches, Stephen would systematically go about destroying my bear ass until I was delirious with ecstasy. Stephen would mix up the exercise routines, incorporating cardio and core training, but we'd always end up with his hard cock up my big ass.

By the time our wedding day arrived, I was a muscular 240 lbs, and Stephen a buff 165 lbs. We were quite a handsome husband-and-husband on our wedding day. It was a magical day, one I shall always treasure. Stephen's parents had driven up from Virginia a couple of days before, hauling a trailer filled with the remainder of Stephen's belongings hitched to their SUV. I could see how happy he was to have his parents at our wedding and to finally have all his belongings. We fixed up the spare bedroom for them. For other family members and friends, we reserved some rooms in a nearby hotel, but some friends we had made on the Appalachian Trail arrived with their camping gear and created their own little tent-city in our backyard.

One such trail friend was Raging Storm. He was a lanky kid from elevation-challenged Florida and had been fresh out of college when he started his thru-hike. He came storming into our living room, his blond mane blown back, and bear-hugged Stephen. "Hey, hey! Raging Storm and Raging Wind back together!" This was my first time meeting him. It wasn't an auspicious beginning.

"Back together?" I asked a bit piqued.

"Yeah, dude. We hiked through North Carolina and Tennessee together."

"We gave each other our trail names, Don."

"Dude, remember Watuaga Lake Shelter? That stupid girl dumped her dog's food on the ground. I went ballistic! I yelled at her to bag the food and hang it. And then I noticed other shit people had dumped on the ground. I went insane. I grabbed an extra trash bag from my pack and started picking shit up."

"Yeah, I remember. You were totally enraged and you were like a storm, all over the place, howling. So I named you Raging Storm."