Land of Enchantment

LAND OF ENCHANTMENT (Homage to River Rat) by K. Nitsua. Copyright 2002 by the author.

I never used to believe that saying about bad things coming in threes. But when I lost my wife and my job in the same week, I began to wonder what was going to hit me next.

There's nothing like hindsight. Often after the fact you can look back and tell yourself you should have seen it coming. But I was honestly shocked when my wife fell in love with someone else and asked for a divorce. Sure, our love life hadn't been great lately, but she had never been wild about sex even when we were dating. When I said this to her the night she left, she shook her head.

"I was always crazy for you, Roy. You were the one who wasn't interested. I thought something was wrong with me. Now I know that's not true. I've met someone who loves me and who thinks I'm the hottest thing around."

No hard feelings, she added, kissing me on the cheek. Then she walked out the door and left me to pick up the pieces.

Getting laid off, though, shouldn't have come as a surprise. My company hadn't been doing well for months. The downturn that started last fall really hit us hard. Still, I didn't think my own job was in danger, even though they took me off some important projects and fired my assistants.

My wife left on a Tuesday night. When I walked into my area vice-president's office that Friday afternoon and saw the look on his face, I got a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. All of a sudden I knew that my bad week wasn't over.

He tried to be nice about it. He offered me a generous severance package and promised to give me good references. I found out later that he had been let go himself soon after he'd given me the ax.

I came home that evening to an empty silent house. I carried the boxes of stuff that I had cleaned out of my office from my car to the front hallway, put them on the floor and went to the couch in the living room. For the next several hours I sat, not moving, until it was dark. Finally I went to the bedroom that my wife and I had shared until recently. Without bothering to get undressed I lay down in the middle of the king-sized bed and stared at the ceiling until I fell asleep.

I forced myself to get up and eat the next morning, but I walked around the house for the next few days in a daze. I felt as if someone had punched me in the gut. Everything I had worked for and believed in had turned to ashes. I had failed both at my job and at my marriage. What was I going to do?

My cell phone rang once in a while, filling up with messages from friends and co-workers who had heard what had happened to me and were concerned. Finally I turned it off. I didn't respond to their messages or call any of them back.

A few days later an idea came to me. It was evening and the Texas summer heat had subsided. I had walked outside and was staring at my dark blue Jeep Cherokee sitting in the driveway. It was almost new--I had bought it last year, when things were still going well--and in great shape. I could drive it anywhere I wanted. I had money in my pocket, for the time being, at least. Why not get away from this mess for a few days, a week maybe, do some thinking on the road? Maybe then I could figure out how to get on with my life.

The next morning I called and had my paper delivery suspended. That day I ran a few errands that I needed to do before leaving. In the evening I packed a few clothes and essentials in an overnight bag for my planned departure the next day.

The morning dawned bright and sunny. I walked out the door with my luggage, such as it was. Hearing it slam shut behind me gave me a hollow feeling--it was as if a whole chapter was closing in my life. As I was throwing the bag in the back of my SUV I saw my next-door neighbor leaving for work--the lucky stiff still had a job. I told him I was going out of town for a few days and asked him to keep an eye on the house.

"Going on a vacation with the missus?" he asked, smiling.

"No, alone. My wife left me last week," I said. He blinked and promised to take care of things.

That was all I had to do. Soon I was driving out of Austin, heading north, armed with a sixpack of bottled water and a few roadmaps. I left the cell phone sitting on the living room table. I kept my eyes on the road and drove carefully. Other than that, I let my thoughts wander. But no revelations came to me, at least not that day.

By late afternoon I was well into the Panhandle, driving in hot, dusty and flat country. The dreary scenery matched my mood. I realized I had to take a leak real bad--drinking all that water had caught up with me. I began looking for somewhere to stop. After some miles I saw a roadside rest stop, just a small turnoff with some picnic tables, vending machines, and rest rooms. Attempts at landscaping the area had long since succumbed to the unrelenting sun.

No one else was parked in the lot when I pulled in. I stopped in front of the men's room and hurried inside to the urinal. I barely got unzipped before releasing what felt like a gallon of piss. As the painful pressure against my bladder eased I heaved a sigh of relief.

As the stream slowed to a trickle another sensation came to my mind. It felt good holding my cock, and I realized how long it had been since I'd gotten off. Julie and I hadn't had sex for months while our marriage crumbled, and in my depressed state since she had left me I hadn't even felt like masturbating. Now for the first time in quite a while a wave of horniness passed over me. I gave my penis a few tentative strokes and felt it begin to swell in my hand. I hadn't heard any other cars pull up and I was quite sure I was alone at the rest stop. Still, I hesitated, uneasy about doing it out in the open.

There were two urinals side by side in the small men's room, and two wooden stalls with toilets along the same wall a bit further from the entrance. If I was going to relieve myself it would be safer behind a closed door. I pushed open the door of the stall nearest the urinals, lowered my trousers and sat on the toilet. The sharp smell of disinfectant hit my nostrils but somehow this only made me hornier.

My six-and-a-half inch cut cock sprang straight up when it was freed, already leaking copious amounts of clear fluid. I began to stroke it, spreading the precum over the head and shaft, spitting into my hand and adding it for more lubrication. Damn, that felt good. It wouldn't take me long at this rate.

At that moment I heard the sound of a running motor approaching. Another car had entered the rest area and pulled up close to the restroom door. The driver killed the engine and in a moment I heard footsteps enter the men's room. Despite the fact that he couldn't possibly see me I was embarrassed and stopped what I was doing.

The unknown man went to one of the urinals. As I waited for him to do his business and leave my eyes roved around the walls of the stall. In the harsh fluorescent light I saw that someone had gouged a small hole in the left wall, above the roll of toilet paper. If I looked through it I could get a view of whoever was at the urinal.

Suddenly I was consumed by curiosity. I had never been with another man in my life, or even been naked with anyone in a locker room or shower for years. I wanted to see someone else's organ, compare it with my own. I leaned forward as quietly as I could and put my eye to the peephole.

Whoever had made the hole had done it with this exact purpose in mind. I couldn't see his face, but otherwise I had a perfect view of the unknown man standing at the urinal farthest from the stall. He was wearing a striped dress shirt and chino pants. A strong hand with sparse black hair growing on the back gripped the cock that stuck out from his fly. It was circumcised and even in its soft state it was impressive, with a healthy pink head, out of which a thick golden stream of piss made its way into the urinal. I could hear splashing noises as it hit the rubber guard at the bottom.

My breathing was coming fast and shallow. My cock, which had softened somewhat when I stopped jerking it, was fully hard again. There was something exciting and naughty about spying on someone's private act this way. My eye was glued to the peephole, and almost without realizing it my hand began to move again on my own cock as I watched the stranger finish taking his leak.

He shook his organ once or twice and flushed. With disappointment I knew the show was over and he would leave in a moment. I hadn't cum yet and the pressure in my loins was stronger than ever. Once he left I would finish myself off and hopefully get some relief from the sexual tension built up over months.

I had taken my eye from the peephole as twisting my body had become uncomfortable. After a moment I realized to my surprise that I had heard no further sounds, no footsteps or running water indicating the man was washing his hands. He hadn't left. In fact, he hadn't moved.

Cautiously I peered out the hole again and my eyes widened with surprise. The unknown man was still standing in front of the urinal. His fly was unzipped and his cock was still out. It wasn't soft any more, though. It was stiff and erect as he stroked it slowly with his hairy hand.

With a shock I realized that he knew I was watching him and was putting on a show for me. I had half a mind to zip up quickly and run out the door, get away from this pervert. I couldn't move, though. It was as if my butt were glued to the toilet seat and my eye to the peephole. Almost without realizing it I took hold of my own hard cock and began to stroke it in unison with my faceless companion.

He continued to work his penis, sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly, now and then shaking it up and down by the root. He pulled out his hairy ball sack as well, fondling it with one hand as he masturbated with the other. I felt myself getting close and slowed my pace down, not wanting to shoot my load before him.

My anonymous partner's hand began to move faster and faster on his shaft. Soon I heard harsh gasps outside my stall. The man's body bucked back and forth. He thrust his hips toward the urinal, aiming his cock at it as a series of white spurts shot from its head and hit the porcelain. By now I was in a fever of excitement and the sight of his ejaculation pushed me over the edge. A muffled groan of pleasure escaped my clenched jaw as I released my own load into the toilet bowl. I heard soft splashes as the semen shot from my cock and hit the water beneath.

As I was recovering from my climax I heard the urinal being flushed, then the sound of running water and a paper towel being torn from the dispenser. Quick footsteps tapped past the stall, then I heard a motor roar to life outside. By the time I had cleaned myself up, flushed the toilet, pulled up my pants and stepped out of the stall, the man was gone. I had never seen his face.

Some time later I was back on the road, thinking about what had happened. I had always walked the straight path in life, had never had any experiences with other men. So what did that scene back at the rest stop mean? I hadn't made any real contact with the man. I wouldn't recognize him if I saw him on the street. I told myself it had been an aberration, an impulsive act caused by my horniness and recent stress.

As I fell asleep late that evening in a small motel room, though, the last image I saw in my mind as I drifted off to sleep was a veined, hairy, masculine hand, stroking an erect penis.

The next morning I checked out and set off again. I still wasn't sure where I was going. From where I was it would be easy to get to any of several states. The weather continued hot and dry, the terrain flat and featureless. By noon I was more than ready for a break.

I saw a large sign at the side of the road: "Family Restaurant." In the arid surroundings its gaudy colors leaped to the eye. It had its intended effect on me as I turned in to the restaurant parking lot a half-mile later. I needed to stretch my legs and fill my stomach.

The dining room was spacious, cool and, despite the hour, almost empty. A bustling, cheerful waitress served me as diligently as if I were in a four-star restaurant, and the food was delicious. I ate a barbecue beef sandwich, sipped iced tea and looked out the large glass window at the traffic passing by.

I finished a piece of chess pie for dessert and paid the bill, leaving a nice tip for my hardworking server. I had no place I needed to get to, and sitting doing nothing was so pleasant that I didn't want to move just yet. I looked around the restaurant again, thinking I might ask for one more refill of tea before I left.

I saw a man sitting in a booth against the far wall of the dining room, facing in my direction. I hadn't noticed him before. Maybe he had come in while I was eating. He had a cup of coffee in front of him and was reading a newspaper. As if aware that I was looking at him he glanced up and our eyes met. I quickly looked away, but not before I had noted his direct stare and the beginnings of a smile on his face.

A few moments passed and I worked up the nerve to glance in his direction again. He was older than me by maybe ten or fifteen years, dark hair turning gray, dressed in work shirt, jeans and cowboy boots. His face was craggy and lined and looked as if he smiled often.

As luck would have it, at that moment he looked up and caught me looking at him again. I ducked my head, embarrassed. My face felt hot and my heart was pounding. What's more, I was aware of a stirring in my crotch. What was happening to me? I shifted in my seat and tried to move my legs to relieve the pressure.

I knew I should get up and leave. But I didn't move. After a few more minutes of agony I told myself I was being ridiculous. Why was I letting a total stranger intimidate me? With a boldness I didn't feel inside I looked up again.

The man had put down his paper and was staring, nailing me with a pair of piercing dark eyes. I could feel a blush rising again but, determined not to back down, I held his gaze. A smile spread slowly across his face and I was surprised at how handsome he was. He was sprawled on the padded bench of his booth, slumped down with his legs apart. I let my eyes flicker downward and saw movement in the shadows underneath the table. One hand was rubbing the bulge between his legs.

Sweat began to trickle down my face despite the blasting air-conditioning. I licked dry lips. Suddenly the man got up and strode across the room. For an awful moment I thought he was heading for my table, but he instead he walked toward the back of the restaurant and disappeared into a small, darkened hallway. I saw a sign fixed to the wall above the opening: "Rest Rooms."

When my legs hoisted my body upright I was sure I was leaving, relieved that the mysterious encounter was over. Instead I found they were carrying me in the same direction the stranger had gone. I told myself I needed to go before I hit the road again.

I pushed open the door marked "Men" and found myself in a tiny lavatory, containing a basin with a mirror over it, one urinal, and one stall, whose door was closed. I had barely entered when a voice came from the stall.

"Lock the door."

I was so surprised I couldn't speak for a moment. Finally I croaked, "What?"

"Lock the door. Hurry."

I turned around and sure enough, the door had a deadbolt. I pushed at it. At first it didn't move, then it fell into place with a "clack." I heard a noise behind me and turned toward the stall. The door was open a crack and a hand from inside beckoned me forward.

The few steps to the stall seemed to take an eternity. As I reached it, the door opened wider and I saw the man who had been sitting in the dining room perched on the toilet, his jeans pushed down to his ankles. I hesitated and he waved me forward again with more impatience.

"C'mon. We're safe here but we don't have much time."

Finally I was inside the stall. It was so small I couldn't close the door. The man on the toilet rubbed his hands up and down my hips. He stared at the swelling mound of my fly and licked his lips. With one hand he reached up, unbuckled my belt, and drew the zipper down. In a second my pants and underwear were halfway down my thighs. My erection jutted out, hard and dripping.

"Very nice." Without another word he gripped my bare buttocks, drawing me forward, and took me in his mouth. At the first contact I gasped and threw my head back. The sensation was electrifying. My wife had given me oral sex once in a great while, always with reluctance and for as short a time as possible. Her halfhearted efforts were nothing at all like the hot slippery pleasure that now engulfed me.

In a matter of seconds I felt my climax rising but was helpless to stop it. A strangled cry escaped my lips as my knees buckled. Had the other man's grip not tightened on my body I would have pitched forward as my cock exploded. I managed to brace myself with my arms against the wall as I shot, and shot again into his mouth. I heard faint gurgles coming from the stranger who still held me completely inside him, his nose pressed into my pubic hair.

At last he pulled back, released my softening organ and looked upward.

"That was fast."

I was embarrassed again, and somehow humiliated that I hadn't been able to hold back. "I'm sorry," I said. I pulled up my pants and began stuffing my shirt back into them, thinking only to get out of there as quick as I could.

"Whoa. Don't be sorry. That was great."

I stopped and stared at him. "Great?"

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and winked at me. "Sure was. Nothing better than giving head to hot young fellas like you."

I shook my head, uncomprehending. "I've got to go. See you."

Without waiting for a reply I unlocked the restroom door, hurried out of the restaurant and jumped into my Wrangler. Soon I was roaring down the road. I didn't breathe easy again until I was sure the man in the restaurant wasn't following me.

My thoughts were in a turmoil. For the second time in two days I had let myself be drawn into something I had never done before, something that went against everything I had been taught. I told myself I hadn't been an active participant. I hadn't done anything except stand and let it happen. I shook my head when I thought of the other man in the toilet. Great, he said. He had actually enjoyed sucking my cock, had even swallowed my cum. How sick was that?

The only good thing was that somehow I had been shaken out of my lethargy. I felt more alert, and interested in what life held in store for me. I noticed cars passing by with colorful plates on their bumpers, splashed with orange and yellow. "Land of Enchantment," they read. New Mexico. The idea of going there intrigued me. I wasn't too far from the town that people had told me was the most enchanting place in the state--Santa Fe. I made up my mind. That was where I was headed.

Later that afternoon I joined I-40 heading west and crossed the border into New Mexico. Soon I noticed the scenery had changed. I was still driving through desert country, arid and desolate. Here, however, the terrain was spectacular. Huge rock formations jutted from the earth, near and far, forming ever-changing vistas. Gray mists covered distant mountains. I drove through a brief but intense rain shower that ended after only a few miles, after which the desert sun beat down as bright as ever. I began to understand the reason for the license plate slogan.

A lot of this was Indian territory. The highway was dotted with signs indicating that I was entering one reservation after another. Occasionally huge new constructions rose by the side of the highway, incongruous sights, announced with garish billboards and electronic marquees spelling out coming entertainment attractions. By building these gambling casinos the tribes had figured out a way to make money, appealing to the baser instincts of the white man. I chuckled at the irony of it all.

Santa Fe, by contrast, emerged so smoothly from the surroundings I hardly noticed I was approaching it at first. I began to see square, flat-roofed constructions rising from the countryside, colored in various earthen tones. I remembered that the city had an ordinance requiring uniformity of appearance and the use of traditional materials and architecture. This gave the place a unique look.

When I got to the outskirts and turned off the freeway, though, I was disappointed. Apparently architectural mandates did not extend to the outskirts, which seemed to me to consist of the same vast, ugly strip malls you saw in every city. It was early evening on Friday and I was taken aback at the volume of traffic on the wide avenue I was on. Urban growth and sprawl were hitting Santa Fe the same as everywhere else. Too bad.

Still, I was glad to be here. It occurred to me that this was a town for rich folk and that finding an affordable place to stay would be a problem. I might have better luck on the edge, before I got too close to the center of town.

I turned along Cerillos Road and headed toward the historic plaza. I noticed I was passing several motels. These seemed to be older ones, those that had stood here before the coming of the rich tourists and the chain hotels. One in particular intrigued me enough to stop. The Thunderbird Motel consisted of three rows of rooms arranged around a central parking lot. The small swimming pool in the middle was dry, but I was fascinated by the walls, enlivened by numerous colorful murals. Each door was surrounded by a different, unique design, obviously handpainted.

I inquired at the office and the price was right. I was shown a small, utilitarian but clean and comfortable room. I moved in and sprawled on my back on the narrow bed, heaving a sigh as my body relaxed. It had been a long and eventful journey but I felt as if I'd reached a destination. I had enough money to stay for a few days and look around. Maybe I'd receive a sign, some guidance about how to proceed with my life.

I put my few things away and changed out of my dusty, wrinkled clothes. Not wanting to drive any more that day, I walked out of my room and down the busy thoroughfare. By now the sun was setting and the air was crisp and fresh in my face. I found a small takeout stand selling Mexican food. I bought some greasy, tasty tacos and a Coke, took them back to my room and chowed down. When I was done, I balled up the trash and threw it in the waste basket, turned on the TV and surfed channels until I got sleepy. I brushed my teeth, stripped to my Jockeys, slipped under the covers and turned out the light.

I must have fallen asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. The next thing I knew it was morning and light was filtering in through the curtained window of my room.

It was a while before I got moving. I still wasn't used to not having a job to go to, deadlines to meet. I felt as if I were playing hooky and I had to remind myself I could do anything I wanted. I drove toward the old part of town and soon got stuck in a monumental traffic jam. The streets here were narrow and filled with cars that weren't going anywhere soon. As we crawled forward I saw the reason why.

It was Saturday, and in the distance I could see that the entire central plaza was filled with canvas booths. The square was closed to cars. A summer arts and crafts fair was in progress. If nothing else, I could kill hours just looking at everything that was on display.

It wasn't going to be easy to find a place to park, or even to move, but after a long while I managed to do both. The streets were filled with people and the shops and restaurants were doing brisk business. Even though I was alone and my life was a shambles I began to get caught up in the festive mood.

It took me only a few minutes to get to the Plaza. Soon I was wandering among the booths, amazed at the variety of wares on display, some beautiful, some tacky, trying to see everything without bumping into people coming toward me, upsetting a display table, or getting tangled in a dog leash.

I needed a breather, and escaped into the grassy central square. The benches placed by the paved walks were all occupied, but I found a patch of grass and sat, one elbow on my knee, watching the people go by. I saw more than a few men in pairs, some young and handsome, some older who had the settled look of longtime spouses. I spent quite a bit of time watching a boy lying on the grass a short distance away from me. He couldn't have been more than eighteen or nineteen, lean and muscular, dressed in military style in camouflage pants, heavy black boots and a tight black tank top, short enough to expose a strip of his flat stomach. Despite the bustle and noise he appeared to be fast asleep. Something about him stirred my soul.

And my cock. My arousal disturbed me and I got up, plunging back into the crowd. To distract myself from my recent thoughts I concentrated on shopping, as if I had someone to buy for.

I stopped to stare at the walls of a particular booth, arrayed with flat, oval wooden disks covered with colorful designs, whose purpose I couldn't immediately fathom. I stepped in to take a closer look. On close inspection the disks were not solid, but cut by a narrow blade into spirals.

"The all-purpose trivet," a deep male voice boomed behind me.

I turned. He was tall, over six feet, probably in his forties, with salt-and-pepper hair and beard, dressed in a black silk shirt and blue jeans that showed off his broad shoulders, barrel chest and long legs. He fixed me with a pair of dark eyes, surrounded by tiny laugh lines. He was smiling, showing even white teeth in a tanned face. I gaped, and said, "What?"

The proprietor said, "Wondering what it's for? Allow me." He reached past me and took one of the objects down. A few quick moves with his hands and the flat disk miraculously became a basket, the wooden spiral forming itself into a bowl, locked into place with a separate wooden piece on the outside that served as the handle.

"That is cool," I said.

He grinned. "That's not all. Push the handle partway down, hang it on the wall," he said, suiting his actions to the words, "And it's a towel rack. Three in one."

"Really clever." I meant what I said. "Did you think of this yourself?"

He nodded, pleased at my response. "Patented it. I make `em and put the designs on by hand, each is one of a kind."

"Wow. They're great." My wife would have loved these.

"Can you show me that again?" Our conversation had attracted the attention of a passerby, a lady with a nasal voice and dyed red hair who could have stepped off the plane from Brooklyn, or maybe Miami.

The man turned to his new customer, who was accompanied by two friends, one holding a toy poodle. Soon they were all crowded in the booth, exclaiming over his ingenuity. I stepped out discreetly and began walking away. I looked back once. The tall man was engrossed in showing his wares to a growing group of people. He looked even better from the back. My eyes took in his narrow hips, his small butt. I turned and stepped up my pace, shaking my head. Why was I noticing things like that?

I'd had enough of shopping for the moment. There were fine museums and galleries in the area, I knew that. I whiled away the next several hours admiring the paintings in the O'Keeffe Museum and art objects in several galleries. It was fun to look even if the prices appalled me. The area teemed with tourists and shoppers. To get away from the noise and crowds I slipped into the nearby public library and read the papers. By late afternoon I was more than ready to head back to my room. I decided to take a last look at the booths before I left.

I remembered the man selling baskets that morning. For some reason I wanted to see him again, though we had barely spoken. I walked to where I remembered his booth was and stopped short.

The canvas walls that had been covered with the wooden objects that morning were half bare. The craftsman who made them was still there, sitting on a stool. He smiled and waved when he saw me.

"Hello. Where did you run off to?"

I was pleased and flattered that he remembered me. "You got awfully busy. I didn't want to be a bother."

"Not at all. I'm glad you came back. I wanted to thank you."

My face felt warm. "Me--why?"

He rose and came toward me. When he got to where I was standing he stuck out a big hand. I was struck again by the force of his presence. Here was someone who had confidence and knew exactly what he wanted out of life.

"Jake Sanchez. You started a rush, man. Biggest I've ever had. Those ladies who came right after you, they bought three or four apiece. It's hardly stopped all day. My stock's near cleaned out. Going to have go back and cut me about two hundred more of these things."

"That's great." I shook his hand, feeling absurdly happy at having helped him.

He clapped me on the shoulder. "I'd like to show my appreciation for the good luck you brought me. Join me for a drink?"

"Well, sure." I scratched the back of my head. "I'm a little embarrassed. I mean, I didn't even buy one myself."

He laughed. "Hell, you can have one on the house. Two or three, even. I'm just about ready to close up here. Give me a minute, ---?" He looked at me and I realized I hadn't told him my name.

"So what brings a handsome fella like you out here, Roy?" Jake asked. It was an hour later and we were sitting at a small table in the Plaza Cafe nearby, bottles of beer and plates of Mexican food in front of us. Jake had been so busy he had missed lunch, and I found I was ravenous as well.

I felt a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach when he called me "handsome," and didn't answer right away. We were sitting in the front of the restaurant near the window. At that moment a man walked past on the sidewalk. He was lean and fit and had the springy step of an athlete. His tank top, brilliant blue against his tanned skin, was cut low enough that I could see the swell of his chest, thin enough that his nipples were visible beneath the material. His lower half was squeezed into a pair of black nylon bicycle shorts that left little to the imagination. Before he disappeared I got a good look at the swelling mound between his muscular thighs.

I turned my gaze back across the table. Jake was looking at me with a smile. His expression was strange, somehow sympathetic. It made me say something I hadn't intended.

"My life's a mess. My wife left me and I lost my job. I'm trying to figure out what to do."

I stopped, embarrassed. I'd just spilled my guts to someone I hardly knew. I spread my hands out and shrugged. "Probably more than you wanted to know."

Jake shook his head, that look still in his eyes. "Tough break. Want to tell me about it?"

I did. We sat there and talked as our food got cold. Jake ordered another couple of beers and we talked some more. He listened to what I had to say without advice or judgement, and told me something about his own life. He was a retired contractor, and a widower.

"My wife left me too, Roy."

"That's different," I said. "She didn't want to go."

He chuckled. "In the end it's the same. You look for a way to fill the lonely hours. I never thought I was going to, but I did. You will too, buddy."

We fell silent. Then Jake stirred, and looked at me. "Want to come out and see my place?"

Soon I was following his battered red pickup truck out of town in my Jeep, Jake having loaded the stuff he hadn't sold that day in the back. The houses and buildings grew further apart, and I could see the desert terrain between them stretching away to the mountains on the horizon. After about half an hour we stopped in front of a small adobe house along a dusty gravel road. As I got out of my SUV he hopped out of his truck and waved.

"Welcome. Come on in."

The inside of his house was cool and dimly lit. I was grateful for the respite from the sun, which at this altitude, seven thousand feet above sea level, was intense even in the early evening. I felt tired and thirsty from the day's walking. When Jake offered me another beer I shook my head.

"Actually, I could use some water."

He brought me a glass as I sat in a comfortable armchair in his living room. "It got pretty hot out there today," he said. "I'm going to grab me a quick shower. Maybe you'd like one too."

My head snapped up and my eyes widened. Jake laughed. "I didn't mean us together, buddy. I'll go first. Although," he cocked his head and winked, "It'd be a good way to save water. We never have enough around here."

He disappeared and a few minutes later I heard the sound of the shower going. I slumped back in the chair and drank the rest of the water. I closed my eyes, thinking I might grab a few winks, but sleep didn't come. Pictures I hadn't anticipated kept coursing through my mind instead. I wondered what Jake looked like standing in the shower, water running over his tall, solid body, his hair plastered to his head. By now I didn't try and deny it when I found I was getting hard. I rubbed my crotch, my breath coming faster. For whatever reason I was turned on by the thought of this likable man naked. The question was, what was I going to do about it?

The water stopped running. A few minutes later, I heard footsteps and Jake reappeared dressed in a bathrobe and slippers, rubbing his hair with a towel.

"Boy, that felt good," he said. "Sure you don't want one too?"

"Actually I think I'll take you up on that shower," I replied, getting up in a hurry, too late remembering my aroused state. I couldn't cover my crotch or make any other move without making things even more obvious.

Jake smiled, whether because he'd noticed I couldn't tell. "Bathroom's at the end of the hall to the left. I left a fresh towel hanging up. Going to grab myself one more beer."

My cock sprang out in front of me when I stripped off my clothes in the bathroom. I tried to ignore it as I soaped and rinsed myself off. The cool shower felt wonderful and to my chagrin I found myself getting even more aroused. No way could I pull my jeans on or go back out to the living room in this state.

I turned off the water, stepped out of the tub onto the bathmat, and dried myself with the towel Jake had left me. Then I stood very still, head up, eyes closed, taking deep breaths while I tried to relax and make my mind a blank. At last my efforts began to work. I felt calmer and my erection softened a bit, enough so that it wouldn't be so obvious, at least.

I pulled on my briefs and hesitated. I didn't want to put on the rest of my clothes right away. The air felt good against my bare skin. Jake was in his bathrobe, surely he wouldn't care? I picked up the rest of my clothes in my hand and pushed open the bathroom door.

I walked down the hallway and into the living room. Jake was there, sitting with his legs apart facing me on a couch placed against the wall. A bottle of beer stood on a nearby table. The belt on his robe had loosened and it was open, revealing his hairy chest and slightly rounded stomach.

My eyes went to something further down. Jake's flaccid penis hung between his thighs, long and veined, ending in a dark purple head protruding part way from his foreskin. I stared, fascinated by the sight of an uncut male organ. His large balls hung low in their sack, all of his equipment surrounded by a neat bush of dark hair, darker than what was on his head. I drew in my breath at the beauty of it all.

Slowly I raised my eyes to meet his. They were dark and liquid, with a knowing expression. Still he kept up some pretense, maybe to tease me. "Didn't mean to shock you. I like to get comfortable in my own house."

I shrugged, playing along. "It's your house."

He smiled. "Looks like you had the same idea."

"It's nice and cool in here."

He nodded, then let his eyes drop. "You don't look all that comfortable though."

I looked down at my cock, which had sprung up to full erection again and was tenting the front of my Jockeys.

"Put those things down. Then come over here and let me fix that."

I obeyed, moving as if in a dream until I was close enough for him to put his hands on my body. Gently he pulled down the waistband, propelled me forward and took my cock into his mouth, all in the same motion. He pushed my briefs toward the floor as he began to suck me in earnest.

I closed my eyes and ran my hand through his thick, wiry hair. The last time this happened it had been a shock--this time I felt in more control, or maybe Jake knew how to take it slow. I let the waves of pleasure pulse through my body. I wasn't going to just stand there like an idiot, though. I wanted to give this man something in return. I hooked my hands under his arms and urged him to his feet.

I knelt on the hard wooden floor and looked at my prize again. Jake's cock had stiffened part way and slanted out from his body. A single drop of clear fluid emerged from its tip. I bent forward and stuck out my tongue, catching a faint, acrid aroma just before it contacted the head. His precum was salty but not at all unpleasant. I opened my mouth and took him inside, feeling the flesh grow and harden as I took it further in. Above me, Jake sighed. His robe dropped to the floor.

For the next few minutes I explored the first penis I'd ever had in my mouth. I found that I could use my lips to peel the foreskin back from the bulb of flesh at the end. Jake seemed delighted when I did that, as delighted as I was to taste the different flavors of his cock. The skin on his crown was smooth and hard as steel, so different from the veiny, rough shaft. I took him all the way down to the root, choking on his maleness, feeling his pubes tickle my nose and make me want to sneeze, drinking in the clean scent of soap and man. I couldn't get enough of him. I thought of the stranger back in the restaurant who had done the same to me, and suddenly understood what he had meant when he said there was nothing better.

I wanted to taste his cum. I began to slide back and forth on his shaft, faster and faster. To my surprise, Jake's hand pushed on my head, stopping me in my labors. I released him and looked up, puzzled.

"Don't you want to cum?"

Jake's laugh was a bit shaky. "Damn, you are hot. I could blast my nuts right now but that'd be it for the night. I want more of you." He pulled me to my feet and, without warning, placed his lips on mine. My hesitation was only momentary before our mouths were wide open, tongues, lips and teeth clashing and tangling. I tasted the beer on his breath, licked the scratchy stubble on his chin as we kissed. Finally Jake pulled away and took my hand. "Let's go to my room."

In the small bedroom he bent and opened a drawer in the nightstand that sat by the bed. I watched the play of muscles in Jake's broad back, the cleft opening between his small, tight buttocks. My heart skipped a beat as I saw what he drew out.

"Uh... I don't think I can do that."

Jake put down the rubber and the plastic tube on the nightstand and looked around. "You don't want to fuck me?"

"Oh." It hadn't occurred to me that this tall, powerful man would want such a thing. "It's just that... well, I've never done that. Not with another guy."

He grinned. "You really are new at this, aren't you?"

I hung my head, embarrassed yet again. "Yeah." The words came out in a rush. "I've never been with another man." Not like this, anyway. The guy in the rest room didn't count.

Jake turned around and hugged me. "You could have fooled me." Then he sat on the bed and drew me downward. "Want to try it? I'll help you. I have a feeling you're going to like it."

Moments later he was on his back on the bed, legs in the air, and I was kneeling in front of him on the wrinkled spread, the rubber unwrapped and rolled on to my cock and smeared with lube.

I looked at the tight pucker of Jake's asshole beneath his dangling balls and stiff cock, almost lost in the hairy crack between his cheeks. Suddenly it all felt strange and alien. He really wanted me to do this? Then I turned my gaze to his face, eager and encouraging.

"C'mon, Roy. Fuck me now, buddy."

I took a deep breath, leaned forward and felt the tip of my sheathed organ nudge against his hole. Jake's hands gripped my hips and pushed me forward. I felt his flesh resisting, almost to the point of pain, then without warning the head of my cock broke the barrier and slid in. I cried out as it was engulfed by warm, smooth, squeezing heat.

"Oh God!"

I couldn't believe how good his ass felt, so tight and hot. Even in the middle of my ecstasy, though, I saw his grimace of pain.

"Am I hurting you, Jake?"

He shook his head, smiling despite his hurt. "Always does at the beginning. Don't worry about me. Just take it slow, baby. Slow and easy."

Trying to obey, I pushed slowly further into him. His breath came in short gasps, then turned into a long sigh as his head fell back on the pillow. Jake's eyes rolled upward.

"Oh yeah, that's great. Take that ass, Roy. Fuck me."

I moved my hips in a few tentative thrusts. Jake smiled and nodded. "Harder," he said. Still I held back, afraid he would protest as Julie had when I lost control. His face darkened.

"What's the matter, you pussy?"

I was stunned, then I got mad. "Who you calling a pussy?"

His lips drew back in a sneer. "You. Afraid to fuck a real man, aren't you?"

"I'll show you how afraid I am." I slammed into him, making him grunt.

"Uhh. That's pretty good. Not good enough, though." A devilish grin was on his face. He knew exactly what he was doing, and I could do nothing but play his game.

"How about that? And that?" I said, punctuating each "that" with another massive thrust.

"Uh huh. Fuck this bitch's ass. Fuck it. Fuck it." He continued to repeat his obscene mantra, driving me to frenzy.

"Take it, fucker. Take it, bitch." All of a sudden I wasn't seeing Jake, I was seeing my wife, my company boss, all the people who had screwed me over and then tossed me out on my ass. My rage poured out of me through my cock. My body pummeled not only Jake, but everyone who had done me wrong.

The big man who had seduced me with such skill was not only taking everything I had to give, he was loving it.

"Yeah, do it. Fuck my hole. Use my mancunt." His hand was between our driving bodies, moving furiously on his stiff cock, pulling his foreskin back and forth over the purple, engorged head.

"Fuck, going to shoot. Oh yeah!"

I saw the first white jet splatter onto his stomach before I screwed my eyes shut against the tidal wave rising in me.

"Aw shit, I'm cumming too. Take it. Yeah, yeah, YEAH!" My words dissolved into hoarse cries as I felt my juices explode out my cock into the rubber deep inside Jake's ass. Each spurt tore a shout from my throat, until I collapsed onto Jake's chest, warm and sticky with his own load.

As I regained some strength I raised myself on my elbows and pulled myself out, releasing his legs. I looked at his chest, the hair on it matted with his cum. I lowered my lips to his skin and drew the sperm in, claiming the prize I had been denied earlier. The sharp odor hit my nostrils. The taste was first salty, then bitter. It was rich and masculine, just like him.

I looked up at his face. The hard glint in Jake's eyes that had goaded me on was gone, and he was looking at me with an expression I couldn't fathom. "What?" I asked.

He shook his head, and I realized that what I now saw was a tenderness so deep it took my breath away. He slipped an arm around my shoulders and drew my face to his. As he kissed me he licked some of his load off that remained on my lips.

"I've only known you a day," he said. "But it feels like I've known you forever."

I turned my head and lowered it to his chest. He wrapped both arms around me and held me close. I heard his heart beating deep inside his body.

"I want you to stay," Jake said.

I raised my chin so I could see him. "Sure."

He shook his head. "I'm not talking about just tonight."

I was silent, thinking about what I had lost and what I had found. What was left to draw me back to the empty house, the busy, heartless city I had left behind? Here in this land of enchantment, with this man who had seen into my soul, perhaps I could find peace. Still, I hesitated.

Jake understood. "You don't have to decide right now."

I cupped his rough, bearded cheek. "A lot's happened really fast. I'd like to take it one day at a time."

He smiled. "Fair enough."

We cleaned ourselves up and got under the covers. Jake turned out the light. The next thing I knew I was waking in his arms. Outside the sun was shining and a bright new day lay ahead.

END