Tristan

Tristan by Henry H. Hilliard

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Chapter 13

It was less than three hours through a magnificent National Forest of beech, pine and oak until they came to a mighty river that lower down ran down through bayous to eventually empty into the Gulf of Mexico. Here it was tremendously wide, it having been dammed to form an immense lake with many winding inlets on its forested shores.

"Wow!" exclaimed Colton who was woken from his slumber to experience the sight.

"It's on the other side, about half and hour more," said Tristan as he mounted the unnervingly long and narrow bridge that crossed to the Louisiana side.

"You know, I've never seen the sea," said Colton. Tristan turned quickly to look at him. He was embarrassed. "Well, we don't exactly live near the coast and my folks aren't well off. The farm means that we can't get away much--like just to visit relatives and such."

"Well, we'll have to do something about that," said Tristan, thinking about family holidays he had enjoyed in France and Spain--once even going to the Greek Islands. "You'll just love it, Colt. You know, there's spring break and you'd be a hit in Cancun and I've just been reading about South Beach in Biscayne Big Boys. The girls would go wild for your hot bod in Speedos--a few boys too."

"Cancun is in Mexico. I don't have no passport."

"About time you had one, then, isn't it? You're a big boy now, Colty"

Colton said nothing. They had arrived at a small village at the end of the bridge. There was a general store, a bait shop and a petrol station. Tristan filled up while Colt inspected the fishing tackle.

They turned off the main road and were in thick forest on a dirt road. Tantalizing glimpses of the water could be seen between the pines. Suddenly they were at an entrance of some kind. "This is a semi-gated community of about two dozen cabins. Mr and Mrs Brayshaw live just there," he said pointing to a house set back from the road.

They drove on up a slight rise until the cabin' hove into view. "Holy shit!" cried Colton. "You called it a cabin' but it looks like a Canadian Pacific Hotel in the Rockies or somethin'--you sure Jack Nicholson ain't goin' to put a hatchet through m'door?"

"It's not that big. It's just a lodge, really."

They pulled up at porch fronting the driveway. Colton followed in awe as Tristan fumbled on his key ring for the right one. He pushed the heavy door open and stepped in. "Wait till I turn off the alarm."

Colton took in the ostentatious log construction, which was combined with giant plate-glass windows. "Abe Lincoln sure weren't born here."

"Yeah. I don't much like it, but we'll have a great time here. Look at the view."

Colton stepped forward into the main room. This rose to double height and was lit by an immense chequerboard of windows that rose to the point of the ceiling. The whole arm of the lake lay before them with the wooded far shore only party obscuring the line of metallic green that was the main lake beyond, with the Texas shore making a further horizontal of darker green. Through sets of glass doors was a big timber deck that stepped down to a rough lawn surrounded by pine trees that shed their dusty needles over all. They passed through these and Colton sniffed the air with approval. Tristan pointed out the jetty and the boathouse.

"Can we go look?"

"Course."

They walked over the rough ground, Colton pausing to look back at the house whose windows were just catching the sun and glinted gold. In he gloom of the shed Colton could see two rowboats hoisted above the water. "Did you ever go out in them?"

"No. Who would I have gone with? Like I said, I only came here once and stayed in my room the whole time. Dad had clients here."

"What a waste."

"I suppose so. That seems a long time ago."

They were back at the house. Colton examined the wide stone fireplace with its mantelpiece made from a single log. Fortunately there were no taxidermy animal heads above it. "There's plenty of wood that needs to be chopped, Muscles," said Tristan, "Although there is gas heating too."

There was a big kitchen well stocked with food. The Brayshaws had apparently seen to that. Tristan showed Colt the elaborate outdoor kitchen next to the barbecue. It was very American and way over the top, he declared, but Colton disagreed, saying he was in love with it and thought it would be great for `cookouts'.

"Where do we sleep?"

"Well, there are two bedrooms down here." He pointed. "And follow me."

Timber stairs ran up to a mezzanine in two flights. There were two further bedrooms on each side, with views front and back. There were bathrooms between them in the style of American homes. "If we have any extras, they can sleep in the living room on rollouts."

"Where am I to sleep?"

"Here," said Tristan. "This one was my room. We'll share?"

Colton nodded and they went downstairs and started to ferry their things in. By the time they had finished, Colton had relaxed. "I'm awful grateful, Tris," he said.

"Just enjoy yourself. You want some coffee? There's a built-in espresso machine in the kitchen. Do you want some beer? It's in that fridge. Do you want some red? There's a special `dual zone' wine cabinet in that wall. There is probably a built-in popcorn maker too. It's all rather gross."

"Get over it, Tris. You're just mad at your dad. You need to cut him some slack, buddy." He put his arm around him.

"Yeah. Just bad memories."

"What I'd like is a shower. Show me?"

The bathroom was predictably sybaritic. The walls were lined in timber like a sauna, but it was combined with grey stone. The shower was huge and had nozzles pointing in all directions and there was a variety of taps and handheld sprays. A thin window gave a view over trees and a slice of water,

"Y'all might need to show me how all this works, Tris," said Colton pulling off his clothes. "And I might need y'all to warsh me, I'm a might dirty and sweaty." He pulled Tristan's sweater off and dragged him, laughing, towards the water.

"I can't do that," said Tristan, disingenuously, "Like in the dorm, I might get an erection."

"It didn't bother y'none after the first week, I seem to rem'ber."

Tristan set to work with alacrity. He turned various handles to shoot stinging needles of warm water onto Colt's tender parts, making him squeal and laugh. He used bodywash from a chrome dispenser to lather every inch of his body in an act of worship. Colton closed his eyes. Shampoo came from another device and Tristan stood on the tiled seat to wash Colton's short blonde locks.

"I don't think, I've washed you cock, properly," said Tristan. "It's been in some pretty unhygienic places lately." He knelt down.

"You don't know the half of it. Under the foreskin, Tris. It's pretty cheesy." Tristan dug right in to the folds with his fingers and Colton moaned with pleasure. Colt's balls were done next, Tristan directing the handheld hose onto them. Presently Tristan anointed his index finger with shower gel. Colton saw where this was leading. "No, Tris. I don't want nothin' up there. I'm the quarterback."

"Yes you do. You love it and it makes you shoot buckets. It's going up there, Roomy. Spread 'em."

Colton was too worked up to argue and Tristan had a point. He turned to the wall and spread his own arse cheeks. "Now there's a view to write home to Momma about."

"That's what she said."

"Who?"

"Dawna. You know, back in Zenith."

"That slut!"

"Yeah just like you, Tris. Had her tongue right up Colty's hairy ass and later slipped her finger in, weddin' ring n'all."

"Why the dirty..." Tristan made a couple of quick circles with his soapy digit and pressed forcefully in. Colton let out a strangled cry. Tristan felt muscles clamp down--the muscles that Colton could recite like Gray's Anatomy had he been able to speak. He kept his finger there, in fact now at Colton's urging. Then he went deeper, to the second knuckle and then as far as he could go, curling it and making Colton grab for his erection. Tristan, however, was quicker and began to stroke him at the same time as stimulating his nether region. "Tomorrow we're trying two fingers. You'll be in a sling and taking some leather dude's fist by Pancake Tuesday." Colton tried to laugh, but it was difficult.

After a good ten minutes, Colton was allowed to finish himself off. He plastered the tiles with nine audible splats; almost collapsing on Tristan whose finger was being squeezed painfully. He removed it very slowly.

"Shit, that was good!" gasped Colton. "Thanks, Tris. You can be real mean, when you wants to, can't you? You were down right impudent to Colty."

"Yeah, I'm a mean bastard," said Tristan, defiantly. "And what are you gunna to do about it?"

"Well, I could..." Colt let out a stream of piss that caught the kneeling Tristan by surprise. He tried to roll away, spluttering and laughing but Colton chased him with his stream, cornering him under the soap dispenser.

"All right! All right! "I give up! Uncle!"

"Ain't done yet." Tristan had lost all the fight in him. A final shake terminated the chastisement. Tristan lay there, a mess, and panting as the last of the piss swirled down the drain. "Better clean y'all up, boy." He took some shampoo and began to wash Tristan's hair with a degree of care that could almost be described in romantic novels as `loving'.

"I'm going in to the town to buy meat and stuff for the grill--we'll need a lot I imagine. I'll also call in on Mr and Mrs Brayshaw," said Tristan.

Colton was on his phone and looked up. "What do you want me to do?"

"Can you chop some wood for tonight--the pile is around there," he said, pointing. "Should be an axe too. When I get back we should fix the beds for the others."

Tristan returned forty minute later. "Hey, Colt!" he called. "Give me a hand with this box, will you."

Colton appeared at the side of the truck and took the large foam box of steaks from him as if it were a pillow and carried it in to the kitchen. "Should be enough to feed the Confederate and the Union armies," he joked.

Colt was dressed in a wife-beater and a tiny pair of shorts made of tracksuit material from which his young thighs bulged. He was wearing boots. "It's cold, so you must have been chopping wood," Tristan divined.

"Yeah, come see."

They walked out the door that led to the side of the house. "Oh my God! I thought just a few logs for the week. This is enough for the whole winter!"

"Well, there would have been more, 'cept the logs run out."

Colton had missed one--it was a `roller' but would need to be split for the fire. He placed it on the block--a stump that had been driven into the ground--and, picking up the axe, split it in one swift blow that took but a second. He grinned.

"Wow!"

"I came second in competition at the County Fair one year-- junior division--won a hog. M'daddy's better, or rather used to be 'afore he took poorly."

Tristan felt his muscles, admiringly. Colton flexed and posed obligingly, all the while laughing and making fun of himself. They carried some wood inside and Colton got the fire going as Tristan tried to fit all the meat into the freezer. He wondered about this division of labour on anthropological lines. He then made sandwiches, which only reinforced this.

They went for a jog around the estate. There were no fences, but the houses were sufficiently far apart for absolute privacy and the feeling of seclusion on the edge of this primordial forest was maintained. Colton admired the other houses, some of which were as large as Tristan's father's `cottage'. When they were close to the shore, Colton raised the question of swimming. "Not in December, thank you!" laughed Tristan.

"Well I'm agoin' in when Hollis n' Parker get here. We'll skinny dip and I bet Leesh n' Rach won't want to be left out. You'll get to see Deshawn's cock, Tris, an' I knows you like that."

"Yeah, he's got a beautiful bod, but what will he look like downstairs after he's been for an icy dip?"

"Might be y'only chance to be bigger'n him."

Tris snorted. "Maybe I'll go in if everyone else does. It's actually not very deep, that's why powerboats aren't allowed on this part. Tree stumps and stuff."

They returned to the house and began to rearrange the beds, moving mattresses from room to room and scouring the huge linen press for bedding and pillows. The top bunk was removed from Tristan's room, leaving only a queen and a single. It was taken to a downstairs bedroom to make two pairs of bunks. A room with a double was earmarked for Deshawn and his girl. Similar was the room for Alexinia and Carlos. Leesha and Rachel were notionally given an arrangement like in Tristan's room and the other was left with just a double if Jimmy or Harrison should come.

"I won't be hittin' on any of our chicks. You know I think of them as buddies," explained Colton. Tristan said that he did. "So y'all is goin' to be busy helpin' me out a heap as this will be a dry week for Colty."

They lounged around in just their boxers in the fire-lit main room while the sky darkened as evening came early at this time of the year. "Will you put your arm around me, Colt?" asked Tristan at one point.

"Sure, buddy. Y'can feel m'muscles some more."

He had Tristan's head in a sort of wrestling hold so he could continue on his phone with both thumbs. Tristan rested his cheek on Colton's shield-like chest. He could smell the sweaty pit with its matted blonde hair, a shade darker than on Colton's head.

"Colt, I'd really, really like to feel your cock inside me."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I feel that it would unite us."

"Tris, there is no `us'. Y'all my best buddy and you help me out, but y'all ain't m'girlfriend. That would be too gay an' I'm not gay, Tris, y'knows that."

"Of course you're not gay. You're one hundred percent straight football jock," replied Tristan who was prepared to crush any doubts he held on this matter.

"And I'm the starting quarterback."

"Of course, the quarterback. But you'd still be you--a big ol' straight boy. You wouldn't have changed one iota. You'd still chase pussy," Tristan continued, trying to adopt the argot of the locker room. "But I would be the gay one. You'd be just using me."

"But that wouldn't be right, Tris. Sex should be part of a relationship. I sure don't want to just use you and I don't want you to be my girlfriend."

"You had sex with Dawna, or what ever her name was, in that trailer back in Zenith because you were looking for a relationship?" posited Tristan with incredulity.

"Well, I'm 'shamed to admit that I weren't lookin' for a 'lationship on that p'ticular occasion--well least wise not after I done her a third time where she was ridin' me reverse cowboy."

"Well, there you are. I could ride you reverse cowboy--if you drew me a diagram first--and you would not have to have a relationship with me."

"But we do have a relationship, you're my roomy and m'bud."

"Does that have to change?"

"Y'all a good-lookin' dude, Tris, though y'all slow to realise it, but you ain't a foxy chick with purty lips and big hooters and a sassy ass." He paused in evident thought. "I take that back about y'lips. They is kinda pouty."

"Did you just use the word, `hooters'?" asked Tristan, laughing.

"Well, yeah. Y'all mighta noticed I like big jiggley hooters on slim chicks. So shoot me."

Tristan felt he had hit a wall. Then, "You sure like to impress `the ladies' too, don't you?"

"Yeah. I like them to admire my bod and m' fine technique. Like to make 'em moan an' squeal too. I can get 'em to cum so hard they..."

"You get off on giving them pleasure, then?"

"Yeah, of course, it ain't all about me, it's givin' them somethin' to remember, though I like it that they is getting' off on me at the same time. Sorta seems so right, if y'all know what I'm driving at."

"Yes, equal opportunity," said Tristan with a mote of sarcasm.

"Well, I wouldn't go that far, but I am the dude."

"So, if I like admiring your ripped bod, you don't get off on me getting off? You couldn't care less, in other words."

"Hey, no! Hold y'horses. I do get off knowing that my roomy is getting' off on yours truly. Makes me feel like a real man."

"Just like with the chicks then."

"Yeah, 'xactly."

"So you wouldn't get off on me pleasuring you, like I do already, and me being pleasured by your big cock and you knowing that you were giving me some pleasure? In fact more than just knowing, getting off on knowing." Colton was looking confused, which Tristan thought was a good sign.

He picked up on a side issue: "Some? I'd be givin' you A-grade Colt pleasure. Just ask the Baptist Debutantes' Fund Raising Auxiliary."

"So you'd do it?"

"Nah, too gay. I've got my reputation to think of--no offense Tris. Besides, as I've declared afore, y'all hafta do a whole mess o'work to--you know--accommodate me back there, if you knows what I'm drivin' at."

Tristan did know what he was driving at and thought it best to keep his power dry, lest he frighten the horses, and then rebuked himself for mixing metaphors.

"Do you want me to sleep in the other bed?" asked Tristan that night.

"Mercy no, Tris. I hope you ain't offended by what I said before. We is still roomies, right?"

"Right, Colt."

"Come on, man, don't sulk. That's a chick's thing."

Tristan, with a jolt, realised that he was right. He didn't want to be a winey girl. Besides, that was going to turn Colt right off. And he might have to tone down the argumentativeness too, if that didn't demean him too much. He had the advantage of knowing what guys liked and didn't, so he'd best make use of that knowledge, he realised. He liked it when Colt was turned on. Even when he wasn't, he realised, he just liked being with Colt.

"Yeah, I'm sorry too. I shouldn't try to hit on you. It would be like Alexinia hitting on me."

"You like her?"

"Yeah, she's got great legs for a girl and I know she shaves her pussy. If I was ever to fuck a girl...but then I'd have to fight off Carlos and he would pulverise me!"

"I love the way you think, Roomy," said Colt laughing. "I think I needs to educate you in how to pleasure a man--well, pleasure one man. You up for some trainin'?"

Tristan had been up for some time. Colt rearranged the bedding and placed Tristan on his back with his head hanging over the edge. He put some water-soluble lube on his shaft and got Tristan to add some spit. "This is the easiest way to deepthroat. Now, I'm just gonna' put it a little ways until its at the back of y'epiglottis. We'll see if you have any problem with pharyngeal reflux."

"What's that?" asked Tristan just before the opportunity to ask all such questions was cut off. Colton pressed his cock it. Tristan immediately gagged and Colton withdrew at once.

"That. Now I'm gonna keep doin' it nice and slow. Try to fight it, Tris. Hold it there a little longer each time."

Colton tried several times and by the end of ten minutes Tristan could bare it without gagging every single time. "Don't worry 'bout the spit and throat slime. That's hot. Just think about pleasin' me, Tris." Tristan tried very hard. On one penetration, Colton urged him to swallow and suddenly Colton's cock entered his oesophagus. Instantly Tristan panicked and Colton pulled out. "Y'all doing great, Tris. I'm not fully hard yet and so it will go in easier--just like a banana. Breathe through y'nose."

"I can't!" gasped Tristan, trying to wipe the mess that was now running down his neck and onto the floor. "You're too big."

"You just have to try harder for me. Hold your breath and then take one every time I pull out. I won't let y'all pass out. Trust me."

Tristan tried to put himself in the correct mental state. He trusted, he wanted to please, he did not think of himself, he tried not to gag and he breathed as if he were swimming. Sure enough, after about twenty minutes he took Colton deeply for the first time. His throat muscles spasmed and Colton told him that felt good.

"Well done, Roomy. You're going to practice every day. I want you to touch the back of your throat with your toothbrush until you desensitise. If y'gets real good you might be able t'lick my balls when I'm in deep, just like m'grade six teacher."

There was a pause. "You never had sex with your grade six teacher!"

"Nah, course not. I just make up a few things to get y'goin', Tris." Colton laughed. "Hey, you know if y'all was to hum when I'm next to your larynx, that feels real good too--just like a vibrator." He went back for more. "No, don't use your hands. If I wanted a handjob I would have asked for one. Keep it all real wet and sloppy. That ways you don't graze me with y'teeth and it's easier on y'throat."

"Perhaps if you were to put your hands on the back of my head I will hold it in longer."

"Now y'talkin'. You won't panic?"

"No, I trust you, Colt."

The lesson came to an end. "That was real good! Whoo! What do you think would please Colty next?"

"My tongue in your arse?"

"Okay. Let's do it this way." Tristan climbed over Colton with his knees either side of his ribcage. Colton held back his own massive legs.

"You don't mind seeing my arse?" asked Tristan.

"I'm closing m'eyes."

Tristan set to work, glad that his throat was having a rest. He licked and sucked and kissed. He loved being between the quarterback's huge thighs, which were tanned and lightly covered in wiry blonde hair. He felt himself get quite carried away, especially when Colton started moaning loudly and urging him on with lewd exhortations.

Suddenly.

"Oh shit! Colt, I'm sorry. I've got it all over you. I couldn't help it. I know you don't like to touch..."

"It's cool, Tris. It's a real compliment that you can get off, hands free, just by lickin' my dirty ol' ass."

"It's not dirty."

Colton grabbed the lube. Next he wrapped his fist around Tristan's oozing clock and squeezed. This was the first time he'd ever touched it. There was a rule somewhere, but Tristan couldn't remember clearly for the moment, as all he was conscious of was that Colton was stroking his cock.

"Tris, I want you to cum again. Once is not enough."

"I...I don't think..."

"You will improve your refractory time until you can cum two or even more times when you're with me. Understand?"

Tristan, did, but he didn't. Colton stroked him through the pain barrier. He was hard again. More lube was applied and Colton changed hands more than once. Tristan was conscious that he was sort of crying and moaning at the same time. Then he felt something. It might just be possible. He concentrated hard. He looked at Colton's body for inspiration. He closed his eyes for more.

"There, that was great, Tris! Was that some sort of record, Roomy?"

"Oh fuck! Oh fuck!" gasped Tristan. "Oh fuck!"

"Just helpin' y'out, Roomy. Schools out for the night."

Tristan had been out like a light. When he awoke in the dawn, he found that his nocturnal erection had been lodge pleasantly between the cheeks of Colton's buttocks. His stirring caused Colton to awake, if he wasn't already.

"That sure feels, nice, Tris. I'm right tingly at the base of m'spine." He wriggled and pressed back. "Y'all didn't leave me a little present there, did ya?"

"No. Would it have mattered?"

Colton just laughed and wrestled him on top of him. "I think we should spend the day here in bed. Parker texted and has left home. It's about ten hours until he get's here. Leesha and Rachel are leaving Dallas this afternoon so they'll be here round suppertime."

"A bit longer for Alexinia. She is coming from Birmingham. I'm not sure about Carlos," said Tristan.

"Knoxville, I think. So snuggle up, Roomy."

"Isn't this gay?"

"This is y'trainin', Tris! `How to Please a Man 101'. Just think how valuable it will be for snarin' a boyfriend of your own."

There was an obvious riposte, but Tristan held his tongue, although his wasn't entirely accurate and Tristan's tongue was quite busy indeed, Colton giving him some finer points on his lingual skills.

"I'm so proud of you, man. You really get off on being submissive, don't you?"

It sounded cruel, but it was undeniably true. "Yeah, I love it, but...you know...only in terms of...you know...getting off, not in daily life stuff. I don't want to be a wimp or a pussy...you know, when I'm with other people." He felt himself blushing.

"Look, Tris, I may havta re-'valuate what I said 'bout me slippin y'all a length. I mighta spoke plum hasty. I knows how important it is for y'all to completely sat-is-fy a dude an' I might jus' have to swallow m'scruples about not havin' sex with no one with a beard--just keep it real short like it is, maybe. So, I'm jus' sayin'."

Tristan thought it best to let things be and struggled to think of a story that he knew of that had developed along such unpredictable lines. Hitherto he had thought that their predictability was their charm.

He was laying on Colt's bicep--the one used for chopping wood--and he was very content. They talked about various things in a lazy sort of way.

"Dad said he would like you to visit. Cylvah too. Mrs Torres is a fan--she's the housekeeper. Do you want to go up to Dallas sometime? Maybe when football finishes."

"Sure, but I don't know why he wants to meet a hick like me."

"Don't say that. You're a great guy. Maybe he wants to offer you a job."

"Yeah, sure."

"Oh, Dr Macpherson wants you to come to dinner. Iona is a fan too. They hardly ask anything about me, they only want to know about you."

"I wouldn't know what to talk about."

"Yes you would. I love talking to you. Why only just now you were telling me that the human tongue evolved from the fins on fish.

"Hardly supper table talk."

"I rely on your opinion for a lot of stuff. If I have to go to England to settle Gran's estate will you come too? As my friend and advisor? You notice that I don't have too many."

"Tris, you should try to get back in touch with your old friends. If you want my advice, then it's don't burn your bridges. You'll regret it later. Just an email to repair things might do it. You'll feel better."

"You think?"

"Yeah, I do."

There was silence for some time. They may have even dozed.

"Fuck it's nice being in bed with you, Cowboy!"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. If only life was always this good."

"Come on, get up. We have work to do and y'all getting' way too romantic. Time for a run."

They did run, this time along the shore of the lake until their way was blocked by rough ground with boulders. Colt stopped Tristin and bade him hush. There, between the trees was a pretty deer. Sensing their presence, perhaps, it flitted away. "Wish I had m'gun," said Colton, excitedly. "Coulda got a good bead on her from here." Tristan said nothing.

They came to a road where a sign explained that it was hunting season. "Deer are a pest," explained Colton. Tristan noted that licence fees for outsiders were obviously a source of state revenue and that this was indeed hunting season for high-powered weapons as well as `primitive' ones (whatever they were) and crossbows. There were generous concessions for children and members of the armed forces, apparently. Tristan thought this rather sick, and imagined gross rednecks in camo pants, salivating over the carcass of some wild animal--pest or not.

They were soon home and, after a long time in the shower, they started to get dressed. "Go commando," ordered Tristan as Colton searched for his jeans. "It's hot."

Colt handed him his old boxers. "That's hot too."

They did some more work getting the bedrooms set up and put out towels of which there was a plentiful supply. Tristan set the fire and lit it this time and Colton saw to the barbecue outside. There would be at least ten--maybe more --and they would be hungry. They put their heads together and managed to concoct a potato salad and a Greek salad. They were lounging in front of the large television, Tristan more intent on the attractive line Colton made in his Wrangler's than the football game on the screen when the sound of a vehicle on the dirt road meant that the first of the visitors had arrived.

Please look for the next chapter. Henry would love to receive feedback and will endeavour to reply. Please email h.h.hilliard@hotmail.com and put Tristan in the subject line.