Hunting to Farming

A gay story: Hunting to Farming FROM HUNTING TO FARMING

NOTE: This is a work of fiction entirely imagined by the author. Although the name of some of the places referenced in this story is real, the companies, people and events are pure fiction.

Special thanks to a volunteer in Literotica.com’s Volunteer Editors program, neuroparenthetical, for his great editing work on this story, patience, and professional advice.

There are certainly some mistakes that may still pop up. Those, without a doubt, are my responsibility.

© Copyright 2023 WhiteBeard50 – All rights reserved

*** *** ***

Chapter 1

Montréal, Friday, September 15

The week, and particularly today, was an endless succession of problems caused by useless internal bureaucratic procedures. After a long ride, I’m finally out of the crowded metro station. Outside, I’m greeted by one of Nature’s most beautiful displays: the sun changing to its stunning setting colours. The yellows, oranges, and reds of the maple trees in the park across the street seem to vibrate even more under the reddish-orange light. It’s a welcome, soothing view after a miserable day inside a dark building.

I get home, and, as usual, I strip naked as I walk into my bedroom, leaving a trail of clothing along the way. I’ll pick them up later and put them in the laundry basket. My priority right now is to shower. I’m walking into my bedroom when my cell beeps. I pick it up from the nightstand just to see who’s calling. I don’t ever take work calls after working hours, nor do I answer emails. Private number appears on the screen. Curious, I answer the call.

“Hey, BJ! How are you? This is Bob. You remember me, don’t you?”

He was my supervisor at a previous job, where we became friends.

“Of course I remember you, old friend. How are you?”

I’m surprised, but happy to hear from him. He’s a good man. I cut ties with him a few years ago because of his wife’s antagonism towards me. I did not want to risk breaking my friend’s marriage because his wife hated my guts. His three kids were young at the time; you don’t mess with that.

“Say, BJ, would you like to come hunting–you know, same place, Moose Lake?”

“I still hunt with cameras, Bob.” I hear him laugh, and so do I.

“The same old trapper’s cabin is available for three nights in a couple of weeks. What say you?”

I hesitate. I’m not sure. A bit of time off would certainly do me a lot of good. Ah, why not?

“Okay, Bob. Count me in. Let me know the exact dates so I can book my time off. I look forward to it.”

“That’s great, BJ. I’ll text you the details later tonight or tomorrow. I look forward to seeing you again, my friend. Bye for now.”

I avoided the subject of his wife. I figured he was doing the same thing. In any event, a bit of vacation should be fun. Shower, here I come. I want to wash away today’s platitudes. The phone rings again, but this time I ignore it. If it’s important, they’ll leave a message.

***

Two weeks later. Thursday, September 28.

A little before four a.m., I pick up Bob at his place. Needless to say, I don’t go inside his apartment. I called him a few minutes ahead of my arrival. He’s ready with all his equipment outside in the back of the building–just like in the old days. We load his stuff into the car and leave. Fort-Coulonge is a four-hour drive northwest of Montréal. This early in the morning, the drive is quiet with no traffic, not even when going through Ottawa. We reminisce about the past for a little while, and then Bob goes to sleep. The sun rises around a quarter to seven, painting the eastern horizon in layers of red, orange, yellow, and pale blue. It’s a superb morning for driving, with perfect blue skies and no wind to speak of. The flight from Fort-Coulonge to the hunting camp, promises to be spectacular: a top-down view of a boundless forest, where maple, birches, and large patches of evergreens come together like patches of paint on a canvas. The view is breathtaking.

As we enter the village of Fort-Coulonge, we stop at the old trapper’s house, located on the first side street to the right. Bob pays the old guy in cash for the rental of the cabin. A few minutes later, we’re parked near the office of the charter plane service on the Ottawa River’s shore. A man comes out of the office, which is part of a large, semi-circular steel structure that houses his Beaver plane and a smaller Cessna. This morning, both are anchored at the wooden dock on the river. The Beaver floats by the dock with its doors open, ready to receive our luggage. Bill’s widely known as the best pilot in this part of the province. I trust him completely. I’ve flown with him on three or four occasions already. Safety is his first priority. He never takes any chances.

Bill welcomes us; he looks a little closer, squinting, and suddenly remembers who Bob is.

“Hey, Bob!” he says with a big smile, offering his hand. “Three more to come, right?”

Bob shakes Bill’s hand, answering, “Yup. They’re not far behind.” Then he introduces me. We shake hands. He doesn’t remember me. It’s been four years since my last hunting trip. Back then, I must say that I was rather unremarkable.

While we’re shaking hands, a big, black SUV enters the lakeport parking lot. The driver, a younger man, parks next to the small, red SUV I rented for this trip. Bob walks towards the people getting out of the car. Like we did, they stretch and yawn as they unfold themselves. The trunk lid lifts by itself, and the younger man starts getting all their stuff out of the car while Bob shakes hands with the other two fellows–older and bigger.

A tall man walks towards me as I’m walking back from the dock, where I brought our luggage for Bill to put inside the plane. He extends his large hand. I don’t immediately recognize him, but he seems to know me.

“Hi, BJ. How are you?” He says it in a soft bass voice. His dark brown eyes drill mine. I remember that look.

“Maurice. Nice to see you again. It’s been a while. How are you?”

“Yes, it’s been a long time,” Maurice replies in his warm, low voice while we shake hands.

He smiles. That’s unusual for him, if memory serves me right. I remember his poker-face physiognomy. He always seemed to be avoiding me. I’m puzzled. What caused that change of attitude? Or has it even changed?

Pointing in the direction of their car, Maurice says, “You remember Rick, my son, and this other guy here is my older brother, Steve.”

I’ve never met Steve before. He’s a big guy, too–six-foot-five at least. The large, smiling man extends his hand. It’s a true smile–the kind that reaches the eyes.

“Good morning, young man. You’re BJ, of course. Bob said you were coming. It’s nice to meet you.”

He looks at me with a slight, almost imperceptible frown. His shake is firm without trying to crunch my hand. He nods at me and leaves to help Rick bring all their stuff to the plane. It seems to me that they have a lot of baggage compared to what I brought.

Bill does the loading himself. He makes sure to distribute the weight as evenly as possible. It’s a bush plane with two seats–one for the pilot and one for the co-pilot. Maurice and Steve are sitting on their sleeping bags, and Rick and I are sitting on the floor against the luggage that’s packed against the back wall. Bob, the eldest, is playing co-pilot.

I can appreciate Maurice’s broad shoulders and the strength of his back–a solid man. Unfortunately, his ass is buried in the sleeping bag. Up ahead, Bob and Bill talk about flight stuff while the pilot goes through his pre-takeoff routine. The river is calm on the surface anyway.

The takeoff is smooth, and the plane loudly climbs to its cruising altitude and speed. It takes approximately forty minutes to fly to our destination, Moose Lake, which is located a few kilometres south of La Vérendrye Park. It’s isolated. There are no roads and no access by trail of any kind. Fortunately, the big and powerful forest-eaters–the lumber companies–have yet to ruin this corner of the province. A rare piece of land where one can find total peace surrounded by wild, undisturbed nature–an ephemeral dreamland.

Before landing, the pilot circles the lake a couple of times, checks the water level, looks out for rocks, and makes sure there’s a safe path to the dock–the only one on the lake–which lies in front of the trapper’s cabin, where the only island on the lake is located. The landing on the mirror-like lake is as smooth as the takeoff was.

The day is very young yet. It’s only 9:30 a.m. when we dock. Lots of work is awaiting us, though. The old trapper added a basic indoor bathroom comprised of a toilet and a sink. He also installed a gasoline water pump equipped with a decent-sized pressurized reservoir. Deep in this lost corner of the wilderness, these amenities translate into supreme luxury for city people like us. The last time I was here, there was an outhouse built of small logs. It was drafty; you could see anyone using it through the walls. We also carried water from the lake in a grey plastic pail.

I get in and put my backpack and my small duffle bag on the first bed by the window, on the left as you enter the one-room cabin. Maurice takes the bed next to mine, and Rick takes the next one. There are only three beds aligned on this wall because of the space required to access the new bathroom in the back corner.

Three other beds are lined up on the back wall of the cabin between the bathroom and the opposite wall from my bed, where the wood-burning cook stove is installed. There is a smaller potbelly stove in the middle of the cabin. Sometimes, it gets cold at the end of September this far out and north of the big city. The cabin, made of softwood logs, is one large, open room. The floor is basic plywood and damn cold in the morning. On the right, as you enter the cabin, there’s a small counter made of plywood that’s braced to the wall, with a kitchen sink below the window. A simple, rustic accommodation that is not fancy, but it is much more comfortable than tents and safer too, in this bear and moose country. A hungry bear will tear tents to shreds, and an angry mouse will trample a camp to smithereens.

While Bob and Steve, the two older fellows, set everything in place and put the food in the pantry where it’ll be safe from the hungry, nasty little mice running around at night, I go outside with the axe, left by the owner, to split some wood for the stoves. I’m happy to see that the edge of the axe is razor-sharp. Meanwhile, Maurice takes care of the gasoline water pump and makes sure there are no water leaks. Rick cleans the small counter, the sink, and the table and its benches, and sets to broom the floor. The cabin hasn’t been used in a while, it seems. It’s not dirty, though–just dusty.

The front door to the cabin is open, so I can see Maurice, Bob, and Rick sitting at the table, enjoying a hot mug of coffee prepared by Steve using an old-fashioned percolator. At one point, Steve puts a water pitcher and a big glass on the table. He puts a towel next to it, looks at Maurice, and nods towards me, outside working out quite a sweat. No words are exchanged, just eyes talking.

Freshly cut cookstove-size dry logs are piling up beside the old stump I use for chopping. Maurice joins me with a glass of water and a towel. The temperature has warmed up considerably, so I remove my soaked T-shirt and take the glass of water he offers me. It feels good to stop for a moment. He hands me the towel and watches me dry myself.

Looking me up and down, he says, “You got bigger, BJ, since the last time I saw you.”

“Yup!” I reply matter of factly. I gained twenty pounds or so. I was only around 120 pounds three years ago.”

“I watched you swing that axe. You’ve got that technique under control, all right. You maintained a good rhythm. Impressive, young man. You’d be very useful on my farm. A change of career, perhaps?” He looks at me with smiling eyes. That surprised me.

“We had a country house in the Laurentians when I was younger,” I tell him. “My dad showed me how to use axes and tools of all kinds. He was a carpenter and cabinetmaker. I’m a brainy nerd, I know, but I like physical work. Always did.”

“Let me hack away at it. Get some rest. Lunch should be ready soon.” Maurice picks up the axe and starts chopping. It seems so effortless to him. He’s got the size, the strength, and the technique.

After a few minutes, he removes his shirt, showing a strong, well-built upper body covered by thick, long, black fur. Now I can see that perfect ass when he turns around and bends down, putting his shirt on a little stump behind him. Watching those muscles at work is quite a sight. I hate standing and doing nothing, so I look for something to do; I need the distraction. The sight of him excites me more than I care to admit.

It’s hard to start a fire without kindling, so I start chopping up some dry, dead branches and some small cedar logs I found under the cabin. The smaller kindling axe is as sharp as the chopping one. I see that the old trapper made sure that everything was good and ready for us, not to mention the other hunters that will surely come after us. We’ll do our part for the next group before we leave.

Maurice stops splitting the logs, goes inside, and brings back a couple of towels. He hands me one and starts to dry himself. I look at that gorgeous, hairy body of his, and my dick is raging in my jeans, wanting to expand as much as possible. Blushing, I turn around and go to the lake. I walk in up to my knees and splash cold water on my face and naked chest. To my relief, the hard-on softens, but I’m sure he saw it. I go sit at the end of the grey wooden dock, taking in the sun.

A little while later, a big, rough, and warm hand rests on my shoulder. I look up at Maurice, who is looking down at me.

“Lunch is ready, BJ,” he says, smiling. His groin is in my face! Damn, my cock is raging again. It wants to play with the one hiding right there in front of my nose. He grabs my arm just under the elbow; I do the same, and he easily helps me up. He hands me the towel. I dry myself as we silently walk back to the cabin.

I’m a few steps behind his massive body, in perfect position to try and discreetly rearrange my dick to hide the bulge as best I can. I understand my physical attraction. I’m permanently horny. His friendly behaviour, on the other hand, is a mystery to me. Perhaps there was something that eluded me way back then, on our previous hunting trips. Then again, I have a damn good memory, and I cannot recall any occasion where we interacted in a friendly way. Before today, he’d never spoken more than three words to me at a time.

Lunch is great. The food is excellent and abundant. Bob and Steve talk nonstop. The rest of us nod, shrug, and laugh. When the table is cleared, I tell them that I’ll wash the dishes. Maurice and Rick lend a hand, and it goes pretty fast. The stove has a boiler, like a small tank, attached to it next to the fire pit. You fill it with water, which warms up nicely this close to the fire, and you can use it for washing dishes or for oneself. We’ll make sure to keep it full all the time.

Maurice goes out and gets the T-shirts we left by the chopping stump. He brings them inside, leaves mine on my bed, and puts his in a plastic bag. He puts on a long-sleeve flannel shirt and rolls up the sleeves.

After washing up and brushing my teeth, I dress in clean jeans, a T-shirt, and a grey wool sweater. I grab two cameras from my duffle bag: a state-of-the-art electronic one, entirely automatic, and my preferred high-performance SLR Canon, completely manual, loaded with old-fashioned 35 mm colour film. I bring several rolls of film, one of which is black and white.

The boys are going down to the other lake to get a feel for the place. It’s a good hunting spot. There are plenty of water lilies in the shallow waters at the bottom of the bay. It’s secluded and very quiet, with plenty of places to hide for the hunters. “We’ll be back by four,” one of them tells me.

I tell Bob that I will be going up to the lookout, away from the rifles. We always tell others where we go–a simple safety precaution.

I walk along the narrow, zigzagging trail between the trees, sometimes through dense bushes, and other times through sunny clearings. I take lots of pictures, as I always do. The only sounds are those from the birds chirping, the Canadian geese flying south, and the subtle rustle of the leaves in the light, warm breeze. I eventually get to the top of the hill where the lookout is. It’s a large clearing on the west. I can see a large part of the lake from there, but the cabin hides behind the hills to the southeast.

The lake is calm. Nothing disturbs its clear surface, which reflects the soft, blue sky. In the distance, a light-blueish veil paints the mountains’ curvy line, giving the impression that they merge with the azure expanse above. Magnificent. My Canon whirs and whirs with delight and satisfaction. I sit under a large, bright-yellow maple with my back to it and just admire all that beauty, and feel the healing peace radiating from it.

Back at the cabin, I ensure the boiler is full of water and rekindle the wood stove. That way it’ll be nice and ready for the cooks, Steve and Bob. It’s almost a quarter to five when the boys return from their expedition–Fortunately, from my point of view, empty-handed. I refrain from teasing them.

Bob is pleased to see that the stove is ready. The boys are hungry. They put away their stuff, do their business, and prepare for supper. I walk to the dock and sit at the end. I love the proximity to the water–the amazingly clear water–the small, rocky island ahead with its single, skinny black spruce tree, the long grass, plus a few shrubs, all with the colourful surrounding mountains as a background. How many years of this natural beauty do we have left?

The boys left the door of the cabin open, and I can see that Bob and Steve are having what seems to be a serious conversation. Then Rick walks in, and the conversation forks towards the bear tracks. I can hear everything that’s being discussed: the ideal spots to hunker down, the lack of mouse tracks, and, again, the big bear tracks. There’s an argument about how fresh they were. Obviously, they’re having fun arguing just for the fun of it.

Then, a nice, deep bass voice grabs my attention. “How was your photo hunting, BJ?”

Maurice squats down next to me; I never saw him or heard him approaching. A strange but nice feeling runs through me.

“I took a hundred or so photos. Different exposures, speeds, and angles. I sat for a long time just admiring nature. From up there, the view is fantastic, and the weather is exceptional for this time of year. I saw lots of wild geese flying south. There must be thousands around Ottawa’s farmland now.” I’m blabbing away.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” he says amused. “No moose up there, huh?” he says amused.

“Nah. They’re hiding in cool places in the woods, I presume.”

As he gets up, he says, “You’re probably right. Well, young man, supper is almost ready.”

I get up and follow him.

During supper time, Rick says it’s too bad there’s no canoe or rowboat to cross the lake at the end of the trail.

“Well,” I interject, “there used to be an aluminium boat on the right-hand side as you go onto the beach. It was hidden in the brushes the last time I was there.”

They all look at me, surprised.

“I’ve been there many times, and I snooped around. The boat is upside down, and the oars are tucked inside. Have a look tomorrow.”

“We will.” Bob says., and then he shakes his head. “Thanks, BJ. Christ, I’ve been down there many times in the past years and never saw it. Huh!”

The supper clean-up is swiftly done. Bob gets the cards out. The boys start playing. I go sit on my bed and read instead. They’re having a ball–teasing, arguing, and laughing all evening. I’m the first to finish my nightly hygiene routine and sign off.

*** *** ***

Chapter 2

Friday, September 29

Just before sunrise, Maurice shakes me a little to wake me up. I growl something meaningless and look up at him.

“We’re leaving,” he says quietly. “We should be back around eleven.” With nothing more than that, he leaves with the others.

I pull the sleeping bag up to my chin, turn on my side, and fall back into a peaceful slumber. I wake up a little after eight. The place is quiet and still warm. I get up and go do my business. There’s coffee in the old, battered percolator. I taste it. “Urghhh…” It tastes bitter, so I decide to make a new batch. It turns out quite well. I feed more wood to the stove to warm up the place and cook my breakfast. I’m unusually hungry. I mess up the eggs, and toast is kind of well done, but the bacon is nice and crispy, just the way I like it. I enjoy everything all the same. I clean up the stove and do the dishes–mine, and the one left behind by the boys. My brain is at a peaceful rest, running smoothly and quietly. It is such a relief–no stress, no obligations, no arguments, just total peace.

Inevitably, Maurice comes to mind. I’m puzzled by his attitude towards me. I have no idea what he’s looking for. Just sex? A relationship? If it’s just sex he wants, then there will not be any. Why did he ignore me during all our previous encounters here? Why such a sudden change? But I like to have him around. I like that type of man. I’m attracted to him, and it’s about more than just sex.

Anyway, I need to move and do something, so I get dressed and go outside. I can’t go down where they are–too dangerous. Instead, I take the trail that goes up towards the lookout again. It’s a good kilometre and a half going up, but it’s soft climb. I brought no cameras this time. I just wanted a good, fast walk up there and back.

Back at the cabin, I feed more wood to the stove. The boys will soon be back from their morning hunt. I get everything ready and set the table as usual. I don’t know what’s on the menu; that’s Steve and Bob’s business. I suspect tomato sauce on spaghetti. I think I heard Steve mention that this morning. They bought some bread ready to heat up, so I put two of them in the oven.

Not too long after, I hear them coming. The way they’re blabbing, something must have happened–something funny, I think. Bob enters first, followed by Steve, Rick, and Maurice. They’re laughing heartily.

“BJ, we found the boat exactly where you said it would be. But…” Maurice can’t go on. He bursts out laughing.

I look at him and then at the others and ask, “So, what happened?”

Steve sits at the table. “Well, we pulled it out, and, at first glance, it looked good. We flipped it around and pushed it into the water. So far, so good. Then our poor Rick here got in,” he says, putting an arm around Rick’s shoulders, “and we pushed the boat further into the water. Then, about fifteen feet from the shore, he went through the bottom. He…” Now it’s Steve’s turn to break down laughing.

Bob picks up from there. “Well, Rick is standing knee-high in the water, with this boat slowly sinking around him. You should have seen his face. It was a priceless moment.”

Maurice, sitting next to Rick, squeezes his son’s shoulder and winks at him. Poor Rick looks at them and smiles. His gaze moves in my direction, and he shrugs.

“You had to be there, BJ.”

The laughter dies down, and everyone puts their stuff away on their beds, then washes up. In the kitchen, Steve fills a large pot to boil the spaghetti. Bob is busy opening the tomato sauce cans, to which he adds onions, garlic, spices, and some tomato paste.

“Where’s the package of bread I left here?” Steve asks, frowning at me.

“It’s in the oven. Smell it?”

“Oh! Right. Good job.” He offers me a grateful grin.

It’s a simple meal that’s filling and easy to make. Within a few minutes, everything is ready, and we are all sitting around the table, babbling and laughing.

After the meal, I take care of the usual cleanup with Maurice. Bob is laying on his bed snoozing, Steve is in the bathroom, and Rick is playing some game on his phone. Calm reclaims the cabin.

I’m rummaging through my duffle bag getting things organized for my afternoon excursion. I’m so concentrated that I’m startled when Maurice asks me, “BJ, I know you like to be alone when you go out, but I’m wondering if you would let me accompany you?” His warm, low growl gives me goosebumps all over.

“Of course,” I reply, smiling. “With pleasure, Maurice. I’m walking down to the lake where you were this morning. It’s a nice, easy walk. That sandy beach is a perfect spot. From that point of view, the scenery should be nice in the afternoon sun.”

The Big Bear growls, “Okay. Ready?” He’s holding his big 30-06 hunting rifle across his chest–I know this because he told me. Those dark, sparkling eyes seem to devour me, which once again provokes tingling all over my body. I’m sure that he noticed my reaction.

The trail is narrow and straight, with little elevation. It’s an easy fifteen-minute walk at a moderate pace. Maurice, carrying his rifle pointing upward in a safe direction, follows me silently. When the trail gently slopes down, the lake is only about four or five hundred feet away. The sun is beautiful and warm, and nature’s spectacle is amazing. I walk right to the water’s edge and take a few shots with my old-fashioned Canon. I can’t help but smile when I see the tracks left in the sand by the boat, which is once again hidden in its bushy nest. Maurice stops at the end of the trail, at the edge of the sand, and simply watches me. I like his gaze on me, and his presence. It makes me feel good and calm. I move to the left of the beach and sit down on the sand in the shadow.

Maurice sits down next to me. Suddenly, I hear a faint splash coming from the other side of the lake, and there it is: a big bull moose with an unbelievable set of antlers–a gigantic beast. I elbow Maurice, who’d already leaned back on a big trunk and closed his eyes. He blinks a few times, and I point silently. He looks in that direction, and his eyes nearly pop out of his head. He reaches for his rifle, but I shake my head. Surprisingly, he puts it down very quietly and nods.

I hand him my Sony digital camera, already set to film, and show him the button to use to zoom in and out.

I whisper, “Just press this button to start filming.”

We do it all very quietly, moving as little as possible. Moose don’t see well but have incredible hearing and smelling capacities. I take my Canon, adjust the settings, and get ready to shoot. Maurice is already filming the incredible scene. On the other side of the lake, the smart old moose is immobile and looking around. We, too, are stock-still, sitting in the sand very close to each other. His gaze passes us by. Reassured, I suppose, the old bull bends its enormous, ugly head and plunges it into the water.

Maurice is concentrated and zooming in to get a good close-up. I can hear the camera humming in response to Maurice’s every move, its many settings adjusting automatically and almost instantly.

He’s firmly holding the camera on his knee for stability. I get right next to him and pass my arm behind his large shoulder to peek at the camera screen. I can feel his warm body pressing against mine, his heartbeat, and his breathing. What a feeling! I get hard. He’s sitting with his left leg alongside mine and his right leg bent at the knee. From my position, I can easily see his growing bulge.

The bull moves forward and lifts its massive head, chewing a ton of lily pads. Suddenly, something–some noise or some smell from somewhere–attracts its attention. Ears pricked, nose sniffing noisily, the big mouse stays immobile. Then he gets going with surprising agility. Within a few seconds, the enormous animal disappears into the woods.

“Wow,” Maurice says, looking at me, amazed by the spectacle he just witnessed. We’re intimately close, looking into each other’s eyes. He bends his head down a little, and his lips brush mine, lightly and sensually. He blindly leaves the camera on the ground someplace around him. We are nose-to-nose. I place my hand behind his head. Another libidinous, gentle kiss follows. I’m breathless. I respond by pressing my wanting lips against his. We kiss and nibble at each other’s lips and Maurice looks directly into my eyes. I feel his tongue tickle my lips and ask for entry into my mouth. I close my eyes. I open my willing mouth and let our tongues dance together. He tastes of toothpaste, and I probably do, too. What a funny thought to have at a moment like this.

His strong body is pressing mine. His right hand is resting on my chest. I’m in heaven. Maurice breaks the embrace. A little out of breath, he gets up and pulls me up. He embraces me, and we kiss again–just a light kiss–then lets go of me. I pick up the camera I set on the ground, and he hands me the one he used to film the majestic beast. I grab my carrying case, put the cameras in it, and we leave. Not a word was said.

This time, I’m following him, enjoying the view of his sexy rump. Once again, we walk in comfortable silence. My heart starts slowing down. All the problems, the useless arguments over stupid procedures, and the constant pressure at work are, for the moment, forgotten. Nature heals the soul, the mind, and the body. Maurice soothes my stress, wakes up my sensuality, and makes me keenly aware of my sexuality. I want him. Am I falling for him? Is he just playing with me? I should ask him. But I don’t. It doesn’t feel like the right moment.

Before supper, I show the film to Steve. The big guy looks at it with keen interest; he seems to understand how lucky we got with the footage, but then again, he’s probably also thinking what a hunting trophy that huge, older bull moose would have been.

“Umm, BJ?” Big question marks appear on his face. “Maybe you should have a look at this before you show it to the others. Hey!” He hands me the camera with that mischievous smile on his face.

I look at the screen. I see Maurice and me kissing. The whole scene. We can also see Maurice’s hard-on. The contour of his manhood is well-defined alongside his thigh, and it’s huge.

“Oh! Christ! Let me fix this.”

“You’re not deleting it, are you?” asks Steve, on the verge of bursting into laughter.

“Christ, no. Just cutting the scene and saving it under another file, which I’m protecting with a password.”

A few clicks and typing, and it’s done.

“That quick, huh?” Steve looks at me in awe.

“I do this all the time. Steve.”

“Will you show it to Maurice?”

“Yes.”

“You like him, don’t you?”

I just shrug.

“He does too, you know.” He pauses. I sense his hesitation. “You don’t know him very well, do you?”

I look at him with a slight rise in my eyebrows. “I don’t. Why do you ask?”

“Curiosity. That’s all.”

After another noisy and argumentative supper, Steve and Maurice are sitting on a big rock by the lakeshore. As usual, I sit on the dock with my electronic reader and plunge into the murder mystery of one of my preferred detectives, commandant Gabriel Gerfaut, a French policeman investigating strange murder cases perpetrated by violent and bizarre serial killers.

I can see that the conversation gets animated. They both look in my direction time and time again. They’re talking about me; that’s obvious. I’m sure it has to do with what Steve saw on my camera. After a while, Steve gets up and goes to the cabin. Maurice stays by the rock for a couple of minutes, looking in my direction and not trying to hide it. I return his stare with the same intensity. My heart leaps, my mind goes numb, and my cock tries to rip through my jeans. What’s going on with me? It was just a couple of kisses. The big bear gets up and walks towards me. I look away. I need to regain my composure. Idiot! I’m reacting like a shy virgin. I stare at my eBook, but I can’t read.

The small wooden dock vibrates under his weight as he approaches me. Maurice squats down beside me. “What are you reading, BJ?”

“A murder mystery,” I tell him. “Serial killer. I’m reading this series of a French detective specializing in bizarre murders. It’s in French, though.”

“I read, speak, and write French, BJ,” he tells me, smiling.

“Then I’ll lend this to you anytime you want. It’s not Québec French. It’s French, with lots of local Bretton terms and twists of language, but it’s easy to understand. There’s a lot to choose from in my library. Most of it is in English.”

“Perhaps I’ll borrow that from you.” Then his voice gets lower and warmer. “Why don’t we go inside? The sun is setting and, it’s getting a bit cool.”

“I have to show you something first. Let me get my camera, and let’s take a short walk, if you don’t mind.”

“Okay, BJ,” he replies, a bit puzzled.

We make our way towards the dam that controls the water level of the lake; it’s a couple of hundred feet from the cabin. We sit on a big, flat rock. I turn on the camera, pick the video I’m looking for, and I give him the camera. He looks at it with a smile, and even replays it once.

“The moose is extraordinary, don’t you think?” He says this with a big grin on his face. “It was just a simple kiss, but you… I want you so badly. You can see what you do to me. Christ, that was one hell of a hard-on, I tell you. Look at me now…” He pauses for a moment. “I’m falling for you, and it’s not only sex.” Maurice is looking at me with those dark eyes, inflamed with desire, perhaps even love.

Maurice bends over and brushes my mouth with his lips. He pulls away a few inches, his eyes still drilling into mine. He puts a hand behind my neck and kisses me softly. With the tip of my tongue, I lick his lips, and his big tongue slowly enters my willing mouth. I let him feel my answer. I want him. I’m attracted to him. Why is this only happening now? He never paid much attention to me before–on any of the previous hunting trips. I need an explanation. Now isn’t the time. I don’t want to spoil this wonderful moment.

Our mutual feelings fuel a heated, passionate kiss that gains intensity. Out of breath, we eventually come up for air.

He helps me up in the same way as before. He holds on to me a bit longer. Then, we walk silently, side by side, towards the cabin.

Before we enter the cabin, Maurice tells me, “I do like you a lot, BJ. Please don’t doubt me.”

The evening is a smash after I show the little film to the other guys. After viewing it, they plan to get up early and go hunting around that spot again. That’s what they’re here for, aren’t they? They’re convinced they will get that big bull moose. I certainly hope that they don’t. It makes the discussion that evening lively. Steve can’t help thinking about the part that I cut, and it shows in the glances he takes at both of us. He quietly watches the match being played between my arguments against killing animals and their arguments in favour. Of course, I exaggerate, trying to get them a little hot under the collar, and they retaliate, of course. We all laugh and drink a lot of coffee, and in the end, we are just a happy bunch enjoying ourselves.

Before going to bed, I put a light coat on and go outside. Bob follows me seconds later. I know what he wants to talk about. It’s okay; he’s my friend. Actually, he knows Maurice quite well, and he can tell me a bit more about the big guy.

“I’m glad you came, BJ,” Bob says looking at the half-moon almost directly above our heads. “It’s been a long time. Too long.”

The sky is perfectly clear, unobstructed by any clouds or lights, and stars are piercing the deep black velvet by the trillions. My heart is light and happy–perhaps even in love.

“It’s nice to see you again.” I pause for a moment. “You want to know what’s going on with Maurice, right?”

“No, not really. I know you’re smart enough to figure out what you want or not. I can tell you that Maurice had a certain reputation, but he’s a damn good man. You can trust him. Make it clear what you expect from him. He always makes it clear what his intentions are. With you, though, something’s different. I’ve known for a long time that he wants you. I also know he kissed you and all that today; he told me. I told him that you were an incredible young man. You seem to have mellowed in the past few years. Tonight, instead of arguing harshly like a bulldog, you played with us, and you had fun. Anyway, I told him the same thing: to make his intentions clear, and fast. I don’t remember you being very patient.” He laughs at that.

“You’re the best, Bob. I can always count on you for advice. One thing bothers me, though, about Maurice. Why this sudden attention when he always ignored me before? I don’t get it.”

“You need to ask him, BJ.” Someone comes out of the cabin, and Bob smiles. “There he is. I think now’s the right time to clear things up. Something tells me that’s what he wants to do. I hope…” Bob stops talking, winks at me, and starts to leave.

The big guy walks towards me. He nudges Bob on the shoulder as they cross paths. My heart leaps and accelerates, and my breathing follows suit.

“I’m glad you two reconnected,” Maurice says. “Friendship is so precious. He missed you an awful lot, you know. Bob doesn’t make friends easily. He’s cautious. I’ll tell you something that shouldn’t be repeated. He told my sister that he was leaving her. The end. After he called you for this trip, at my request, she screamed at him and called him all kinds of names, like I know only she is capable of. That was the last straw for him. Fortunately, the kids are old enough, but it’s still going to be hard on them. He’ll be looking for an apartment.”

“I’m so sorry. That’s exactly the reason I cut ties with him. I wanted to avoid being the cause of trouble between him and his wife on account of the kids. I can tell you that I didn’t much care for your sister. I got my share of insults.” An idea comes to mind. “You know, I can help him with his search for an apartment.”

Maurice frowns.

“Yeah, I can. I own a few buildings on the street where I live.” He frowns even harder at that statement. “I’ll explain later, Maurice.” He nods, silent as usual.

Looking directly at him, I ask, “I need to ask you a question, big guy.”

“Go ahead, BJ. You can ask me anything.”

“Why this sudden burst of attention and desire when you’ve always ignored me before?” Perhaps I should have been a little less direct–too late now.

Maurice, taken aback, looks me in the eyes. “Because, BJ,” he says, “I thought you and Bob were more than friends. At the time, I bought my sister’s story. I liked you then, but I thought I had no chance, and I wouldn’t cause Bob any hardship or heartache. He’s my friend and a damn good guy. All those years with my sister, and he never complained to me about her. Not an unkind word, ever.” He pauses and looks at me with a different interest in his eyes. “I like you, BJ. I seriously like you. I fell for you years ago. This reunion is a favour from Bob.”

Maurice stands at arm’s length from me, staring, obviously waiting for a response. My brain is like jello. What should I say? Damn! What do I really feel? Is he asking for a commitment?

“I like you too.” I finally say. “I’m attracted to you. I think…”

“Hey, BJ,” Maurice says softly. “I don’t need a big declaration of love. I know this is a big surprise for you. Let’s just play it out for a while. But if you don’t want to go any further, or if you only want sex from me, I’m not your man. Now’s the time to tell me.”

Bang. That’s a direct answer.

“I like you,” I tell him, firmly and decidedly, “and it’s more than sex,” “We don’t know each other very well, but I think we’re a good match. So, Maurice, let’s play it out, as you said.”

He stands there, and a big smile transforms his face.

Before he says anything, with a dirty grin, I tell him, “But I do want sex from you–lots of it.”

He bursts out laughing. He comes close to me. “We can’t make love here, BJ,” he says with a grin that says, I so fucking want to make love to you.

“You know, Maurice,” I tell him with a grin full of lust, “my sleeping bag is a double size, and my bed is a bit wider than yours…”

“I’m serious about you,” he says, his laughter vanishing in an instant. “I want more, much more than sex. I want you in my life. I’ll seduce you, little man. I promise you a lot of what you want.”

He bends down, and we kiss with a new passion. I feel his erection on my lower belly. I press mine to his upper thigh to let him know that he has the same effect on me. I get so hard that I can’t go inside after we kiss. My blood is boiling. My Big Bear has the same nice problem. After a few minutes of cooling down, we join the others inside. As we enter, I notice Rick making a little sign to his dad. He seems happy for him. Maurice joins the card game, ignoring the stares he gets from Steve. Bob looks at me and nods ever so slightly.

The whole situation is funny. The three of them know that we have connected, so to speak, yet they act as if it is still a secret. Well, guys, I’ll get Maurice in my sleeping bag tonight; you can bet on it. This time, I decide to join the fun, and I sit between Maurice and Bob. We have a ball. After a while, they all agree that I am the worst card player they’ve ever met, but not nearly as bad as I am a cook. Except for Steve, they’ve all had my cooking before; I now wash the dishes.

At 11 p.m., we call it quits, and everyone does their hygiene thing and gets to bed. Steve turns off the gas lamp. I’m already lying naked in my bed, covered by a light blanket that I always keep in my sleeping bag. In the dark, naked, Maurice quietly slips in under the blanket. I feel his hot, furry body quietly slide next to me. He’s so big. I’m on my back, and he’s on his right side, facing me. To my delight and his–I’m sure, judging by his enormous erection–our bodies are literally glued together.

In the dark, his hand finds my face, and he bends closer. I feel his chest pressing on mine. His lips find mine, and we tease each other, kissing lightly and noiselessly. Maurice worms his right arm under my head and settles it above my shoulders. My free hand rubs the back of his head and moves down to his broad, strong, hairy shoulders. I touch him with the tips of my fingers from his shoulders to his lower back and up along the spine. His big body shivers, and moans in my ear. My fingers move up to his neck and shoulders and slide down to his armpit.

Maurice “umms” in my ear. He loves it. He raises his massive arm, and I let my fingers and my hand play for a while in the thick fur. His other hand presses against my back, and he starts rubbing me from my buttocks to the nape of my neck–too gently, in my opinion, but there’s time.

“I love your furry body, little man,” he murmurs to me. He kisses me deeply, and I respond. I suck his tongue, and he groans with pleasure.

My busy hand continues its discovery tour and descends along his side. Oh, he’s ticklish right above the hip on the belly side. The buttock is in sight; my hand wants to wander around there, but it’s a wee bit short. I twist my way down a little bit; my head rests on his hard, furry chest, and my hand pursues its adventure, rubbing that fantastic muscle. Oh! Man! I can’t believe I’m touching Maurice’s ass.

We’re exploring each other’s naked body in total darkness, letting our fingers and hands feel our furry bodies and find all their secrets, delivering intense and unexpected pleasures to our partner. A simple touch of the fingertip becomes a caress. Discovering, in total darkness, for the first time, the most intimate parts of your partner is unbelievably erotic.

“Oh, baby. Fuck, you’re so good.” His head is bent down so he can speak into my ear.

I slip my finger into his butt crack. “Yeah! Umm…” he growls, flexing his buttocks.

My middle finger finds his rosebud, and it circles it just lightly. Maurice squirms: he squeezes his ass. “Fuck, that’s good. Umm… Wet your finger.”

We whisper into each other’s ears, trying to remain as quiet as possible. It isn’t so easy when desire floods your brain. I pull my finger up; Maurice grabs it and spits on it.

“Back there, BJ. Rub it. Please.”

My middle finger quickly returns to its duty. I love it, and he does, too. I rub gently around his hole and press on it. Maurice moans.

I press a little more, and then I find some resistance.

“Yeah, baby. Oh, yeah. BJ. Fuck, it’s so good.”

I decide to venture a little further, and I push in. My finger gets past the sphincter.

“Ah! I’m inside you, Big Bear.” I’m so surprised.

“You know what to do,” he lustily murmurs. I gently wiggle my finger around.

I can’t believe the feeling. It’s warm, soft, and cushiony-like. I push in as far as I can.

“Fuck, yeah, BJ.” Maurice squirms and squeezes his ass tight. My head is buried in his chest; I can hear his heart thumping madly and his breathing accelerating. His head presses hard against the top of my head.

He grabs my arm and asks me to stop before he loses it. We keep very quiet, but we are getting excited–very excited. Our breathing deepens, and our bodies are covered with a light sex sweat.

“I’ve never been touched like this by anyone before now. Man, you’re so fucking good.” He kisses me on the head. “My turn to please you.”

I move back up to face him. With my mouth next to his ear, I ask him, “You were with other men before, weren’t you?”

“Yeah, lots of men. I only fucked them. Never kissed, never touched. Pants down, and I fucked them, or they sucked my dick. I’ve never slept in a bed with another man–only with my ex-wife. Now, let me enjoy your body, lover boy.”

We kiss deeply and with passion. His big, rough hand caresses my hairy chest all over. His thumb plays with my nipples.

“Umm.” I shiver. I move onto my side and ask him, “Do my back, please, my lover bear.”

The big hand obeys, and the fingertips play all over my back. I moan, groan, and squirm. The big hand has no trouble finding its target. The buttocks are in sight, and it attacks. Maurice plays around with my ass, sometimes squeezing hard and sometimes lightly playing around with his fingertips. He’s driving me crazy. I have to work hard not to yell my pleasure. I’m a silent lover, but this situation is so unusual and so lustful. While his hand is pleasuring me senseless, his mouth is keeping mine busy. His tongue is all over my mouth, down my throat, and licking my lips. He presses his big body on me to keep me from moving too much. I’ve never been touched like that either.

“BJ, am I your first lover?” The question surprises me, though I think I hide it well.

“Yes and no, Maurice,” I whisper in his ear. “I have a couple of fuck buddies, but you are my first lover, and I hope you will be the only one to ever touch and love me again.”

“I promise I’ll satisfy all your lusty desires, little man.”

Then we kiss gently with tenderness and love. I can feel him deep down in my mind and in my body.

He continues his tour of my ass. He finds my honey pot, just like I found his. His big, wet middle finger plays around my rosette and slowly finds its way inside me.

“Aaaah! Sooo good… Maurice. Ummm…”

He plays the in-and-out game until he brings me to the breaking point, and he stops, but does not remove his finger. He waits for me to come down, then slowly pulls it out. I can’t believe the feeling. I can’t wait for him to make love to me. I can’t wait for him to be inside me.

“I’ll make love to you soon, BJ,” he whispers.

“So will I, Maurice.”

We continue our silent, unusual lovemaking for a long time. We slowly masturbate, and fingerfuck each other, careful not to go too far. Tired and contented, Maurice spoons me, and we fall asleep around 3 a.m.

*** *** ***

Chapter 3

Saturday, September 30

I lay in bed, hugged by Maurice, who’s sleeping like a baby. Everything is so quiet out here. I hear Steve getting up, and he very quietly comes and wakes Maurice. The cabin is quite cool this morning. Maurice growls and kisses me on the cheek. He leaves our warm embrace naked and covers me with my sleeping bag. When he notices I’m awake, he gives me a wink. He puts his boxers on, covering but not hiding his morning hard-on, then goes barefoot to the bathroom to do his morning business. A few minutes later, he comes back to get dressed. The potbelly stove is hard at work, and the cabin is warming up nicely. Steve is already making breakfast, and the odour of bacon and eggs cooking on the woodstove wakes everyone else up. I’m very hungry. I get up, and, shivering, rapidly cover my nakedness with my sweatpants and sweatshirt. Steve smiles at me, winks, and puts a plate filled with two eggs over easy, tons of bacon, and four, yes four, perfectly done toasts where I usually sit.

“Thought you’d be hungry this morning, young man,” he quietly says.

Maurice sits next to me, and he gets a bigger plate filled with double my breakfast; it makes sense, since he’s twice as big. He puts a hand high inside my thigh, rubs it a little, and attacks his overflowing breakfast plate.

Bob gets up in his loose white boxers–I call them parachute boxers–and goes to the bathroom. A few minutes later, he gets dressed and joins us at the table. He looks at me with a questioning look. I play dumb. He looks at Maurice, who’s imitating me. A faint smile appears on Bob’s face, and he gets his full plate of morning goodies, which he attacks with avidity.

Of course, they know we enjoyed each other’s little goodies last night. In general, boys don’t discuss the details of their intimate games, and we aren’t going to share our nightly blind adventure.

Rick is still snoring. Steve, who’s already finished eating, walks over and tickles his nephew, who nearly jumps out of his sleeping bag. Grumpy, he reluctantly gets up and does what everyone else has already done, except moi.

The weather is miserable this morning; it is raining, and the cabin is plunged into a thick fog. The boys decide to stay in. I love this kind of weather. I pack a solid Pentax, a smaller Canon, both SLR digital cameras, and my favourite, very old, fully manual Canon. I also grab five different lenses. I get my light raincoat and pants out, take off my jeans, and put the rain pants on.

Maurice obviously wants to come, but something’s bothering him. Steve gets his rain suit out and hands it to Maurice. “I could kiss you, bro,” Maurice tells him, grinning like a kid getting a gift.

He hurries and gets ready to accompany me. I love it when Maurice is near me. I feel invigorated, warm inside, and horny as hell–especially after last night. We both leave and head for the lake down the trail, the same as yesterday. Once we get into the woods, the heavy white fog hangs just above the heads of the trees. The image is spectacular. Judging from the bright light coming through the clouds, the sun is actively working to burn it away. The afternoon will probably be nice and sunny. Maurice tries the big Pentax camera. I look forward to seeing what he’ll do with it. I briefly explain the basics. All the fine adjustments are automatically controlled by camera’s hardware and onboard software. You basically point and click or use the filming button. That’s it.

I’m standing on the beach, and by some unbelievable fluke, that big, ugly bull moose is standing in the same swampy water on the other side of the lake. I hurry to set up my camera. This time he sees us–or more likely, hears us. Like I said, moose have bad eyesight. Maurice surprises me; he’s already shooting the big animal. The beast is standing his ground. His head is turned towards us at about 30 degrees on his left side, and he is not moving. His look is intense, and it’s directly aimed at us. We are also standing immobile with only our index fingers on our respective camera’s shutter. Maurice’s is silent since he’s filming, but in my case, there is some clicking and whirring as the camera moves the exposed film into the film cassette, bringing the next virgin frame into position.

It seems that Mr. Moose decides we are not a threat. He calmly starts plunging his big head into the water, picking up water plants he likes. Today, we were both a little “choosier” as to what to photograph. All of a sudden, just like that, the sun appears, warm and bright. The fog rises in white filaments, and at times it seems to tickle the moose. I can’t wait to see the pictures. At some point, I sit down on the wet, sandy beach and simply watch that magnificent animal. The moose continues eating, moving slowly through the water and ignoring us completely. I’ve been here on at least four previous occasions, and I never saw a moose, although I did once see a black bear running away from my troupe at top speed. This is our second encounter with the same wild animal in as many days.

Maurice is standing, likewise admiring the beast, so impressive with his enormous antlers, the big hump on his back, and his nonchalance. After a few steps, satiated, the moose disappears into the woods again.

“Wait ’til I show them what I filmed. Woah!” The big guy seems so happy; it makes me laugh.

“Okay, let’s go,” I tell him. “Tonight, I can’t wait to look at that body of yours with my hands… again.”

“Umm, I’ll explore a little more too, I reckon…”

We both smile and leave for the cabin after kissing deeply and lustfully, with four hands looking for hidden treasures. The wet suits put quite a damper on that, though.

Before we start on the trail, Maurice stops me and stands close to me. “BJ, thank you for the extraordinary night last night,” he says. “I want you, little man. Come live with me on the farm.”

I’m stunned. I stand there, mute. Wow! This is so unexpected. “Maurice?” is all I manage to say.

“Yes, BJ. Come live with me. You love me, and I love you. I’ll make you happy, I promise.” It sounds so simple to him. Shit! I want to. I’m not sure. I don’t care about the job. I have money–large, consistent revenue streams, as a matter of fact. What do I want? I love him. It’s all happening so fast. It’s like a whirlwind in my head. You wouldn’t even see that in a movie. Damn!

“Maurice, I have to think about it. I want to. I don’t know.” It comes out of my mouth. I’m not even sure I said it.

“Little man, I know, it’s fast and unexpected. It even sounds like a fairy tale, doesn’t it? To me anyway.” He laughs nervously, but then plucks up some more courage. He gets close to me, takes me into his arms, and hugs me tightly. “I love you so much. I’ve been waiting for so long. I know you’re my man. I want you in my life forever. I’ll make love to you forever, twelve times a day, if you wish. I’ll take care of you, I promise. But you’ll have to work.” At that, he laughs again, and there’s nothing nervous about it.

He brushes my lips with his wanting lips, and I get goosebumps all over.

“I’d like to. Give me a little time to think about it. You know so little about me.”

“You think too much,” he murmurs in my ear. I can feel his warm breath on my neck. “Listen to your heart.” He kisses me right there.

“Let me get organized first.” I’m thinking out loud. “It’ll take a little while. As far as my job is concerned, I have a contract with the company I work for. It’s legally binding. I’m not an employee; I work on contract only. They may not want to negotiate. I don’t know.”

Maurice interrupts me. “I care about you. I want you because I am so fucking in love with you, BJ, it almost hurts. You’re saying yes, aren’t you?” His dark eyes are drilling mine.

“Yes, Maurice. I want to be with you.”

Next thing I know, Maurice is all over me. He picks me up and swings me around. “Fuck, yeah! Yeah! Fuck! I love you.” He puts me down, and we kiss with a new, deeper passion. Wow!

“Give me a little time to organize my affairs. Then, I’ll go work for you.”

“You bet,” he says. “I’ll put you to good use. But you, smart cookie, are not playing on words, are you? You’ll move into my house?” A frown appears on his serious face.

“Listen, Maurice. There’s something important I must tell you about before you make big plans for us.”

“You just said that you’re… You’re already changing your mind?”

“No, Maurice,” I softly say, to calm him down. “I want to live with you. I want to be your man. But there’s something important you must know before that can happen.”

“Nothing will change my mind,” he says emphatically. “Nothing will change what I feel for you–nothing at all.”

I step within inches of him. I put my hand on his arm, near the shoulder, and squeeze gently. He calms down, but he is still tense and nervous. I understand his feelings. He’s been waiting for me for a long time. I rub my lips against his. He resists a little–a macho thing. That’s an attitude I’ve used as well. I step back one step. He’s calmer now.

Then I plunge right into it. “I have two beautiful kids. They’re six years old. A boy and a girl.” My eyes never waiver from his.

He’s surprised. It shows, despite his efforts to remain unaffected.

“During my university studies, I had two girlfriends, Japanese twins,” I say with a tinge of regret. “They both liked me, and I liked them both. They moved into my apartment near UdM. The three of us shared the same bed. They left before the end of the second session; I didn’t know that they were both pregnant–two months apart. In any event, that was my last adventure with women.”

Maurice is staring at me, impassive and mute. I continue, keeping to the facts and keeping it as short as possible.

“Two years ago, they touched base with me and told me about the children. I requested a paternity test, which confirmed that I was indeed their father. So I help them financially, of course. They both live and work in Montréal; they never left. We agreed that I would have the children, always both at the same time, every two weeks for a weekend, and longer in the summertime if I wanted to. I’ll be honest here; I’d like to have them much more often.”

“Christ almighty!” he says, looking at me with a huge smile that reaches his eyes and paints his face with relief and surprise. “You had two girlfriends at the same time, same place, same damn bed, and you got them both pregnant at almost the same time.” He puts his large hand on his head and continues. “What a fucking story. Wow!” He bursts out laughing, but then gets serious. He’s awash with so many different emotions; we both are. “Is money a problem?”

“No. It isn’t.”

I just stand there, looking like a numbnuts. Maurice stands straight and beautiful with his deep, dark, shiny eyes looking at me. “That doesn’t change a thing for me. I love you; I’ll love them. I love kids. You’re not off the hook, BJ.” He burst out laughing again.

I laugh too. He’s still looking at me with those penetrating, shiny black eyes that say, “I love you.”

***

Maurice lets me in first. He’s right behind me and whispers, “You first, Daddy.” Once inside, he calls the boys. “Boys, come and see this.”

He asks me for the camera he used down at the lake and goes to sit down at the table. With a simple gesture of his head, he lets me know he wants me to sit next to him, probably in case he gets stuck. The camera has a nice big screen on the back with a very clear and precise picture. In this case, Maurice wants to show his video of the big old bull moose. He sets the camera on the table and waits for the coffee to be ready.

Steve, our barrister, prepares the coffee and sets the sugar bag and the coffee mate on the table with a bunch of spoons. On a paper plate, he puts Vachon’s Jos Louis cakes, some May West, Ah Caramel, and 1/2 Moon. Needless to say, they disappear almost instantly, each man gorging himself on two of these sugar-laden cakes just a couple of hours before lunch.

“Watch this, my dear hunters,” he says, with a big grin on his face.

“What? That same big moose?” Rick is lour and incredulous. Bob and Steve are watching with big eyes. I know they’re thinking what we did: what are the odds?

“Yup,” answers Maurice. He just looks at them, starts eating one of the three cakes he took. He downs half of a Jos Louis in a single bite before continuing; it barely takes two seconds. “He wasn’t scared one damn bit.”

They stand around Maurice and me, watching the whole thing. The film is a four-minute video. Steve can’t resist adding at the end, “That’s it? There’s nothing else, isn’t there?” He smiles at me with one of his shovel-sized hands squeezing my shoulder. I shake my head and shrug without saying a word.

On the stove, a soup made of potatoes, carrots, green onions, red onions, red beans, and lots of rice, is simmering in a beef broth, compliments of Bob, today’s chef. It smells terrific. Steve is preparing croutons in the oven. It’s a good, simple lunch to be served hot. My mind, though, is somewhere else. Maurice and I are suddenly sitting alone at the table; the other guys are busy with whatever.

Maurice, still sitting next to me, his thigh firmly against mine, puts his arm around my shoulders. “Hey! Where are you, little man?” he asks hushedly. “Let’s go for a walk while they’re preparing lunch.”

We walk to the dam a few hundred feet from the cabin. We sit on the big flat rock by the side of the lake.

“You’re overthinking again,” he says. “The only true problem is your contract, right? As far as the other stuff is concerned, we will adapt, you and me. You keep your apartment. We can use it when we want to go to town instead of driving back and forth. The kids are no problem at all. I have a good nanny who will be pleased to spoil the children. The farm is a perfect place for them. You can have them all summer long. For the other stuff, I don’t see the problem. Your job can be managed by internet.”

Maurice is right; everything he’s saying makes sense. I’ll tell him about the building and the money at some other time.

“You’re right,” I say, agreeing with him. “The job is the only problem. I make my weekly schedule, and I work mostly from home anyway. However, I have to be in the office once or twice a week. There are meetings, but they’re scheduled in advance. My preference is to seek its termination. I have to look into it. I’d rather be useful to you on the farm. The more I think about it, the more I want it. Thanks, Maurice.”

“Okay, let’s go set the table for lunch,” Maurice says, getting up, waiting for me. I get up, he hugs and kisses me, and we walk back to the cabin.

After lunch, the temperature cools down as the wind turns to the northwest. I grab my eBook, sit on my bed, and continue the story I started on Thursday. Maurice goes out to meet his son. He wants to talk to him about us. He wanted me with him, but I said that it was better for him to go alone.

Maurice smiles, and as they enter the cabin, Rick proudly shows the three red trout he caught.

“Supper, anyone?” he asks.

“You bet, Rick,” I enthusiastically say. “I like fish. I’ll prepare them.” Then come all the doubtful looks–accompanied, no doubts, by the visceral memories of the solid chunk of overcooked Kraft Dinner I tried to cook years ago. “Okay, boys. I can’t cook regular stuff, I know, but I can cook fish because I love fish.”

I prepare the fish, wrap them in a waterproof bag, and walk to the dock to put the bag in the water. The water is cold, approximately 6 or 7°C–enough to keep the fish fresh for a few hours, until supper time.

The boys sit down for lunch, and the usual raucousness makes the mealtime pleasantly entertaining. After the dishes are done and the place is cleaned up, Steve and Bob go for a walk. They choose the easy path down to the other lake–the “moose lake,” as they now call it. Rick goes out with his fishing gear again. He wants to try the stream on the other side of the dam. It runs down from this lake to where Maurice and I saw the mouse twice.

“Well, Maurice,” I tell him, “if you don’t mind, I’d like to take a nap”

“Me too,” Maurice replies with a lusty grin. “With you.”

We both take our pants off and lay in bed. We pull the light blanket up to our necks, and we do go to sleep. Maurice spoons me, his smaller lover, and I can’t help getting an erection. He pushes his dick into my crack and settles down to sleep with one arm under my neck and the other holding me tight against his whole body. It feels so good to be wrapped in my own personal human comforter. His hard cock is driving me crazy.

I hear Bob get in the cabin and hesitate. He’s probably surprised to see Maurice and me softly snoring. I’m tucked into Maurice, barely visible, but I’m awake and so damn comfortable. Steve seems to have the same reaction. I can hear his comment, “Cute couple.”

Steve prepares coffee to warm up the gang. I love the aroma of fresh coffee. I slowly get up and put my pants on. Maurice doesn’t move a bit. The sun is out, reigning alone in the sky, but the wind is cold. The cabin needs a little warm-up as well.

Rick comes in a bit later, empty-handed. Seeing his dad asleep in my bed, he looks at me with a grin showing at the corners of his mouth. He takes a few steps towards the bed and gently touches his father’s shoulder. Maurice growls, as he usually does when woken up. “Had a nice nap, dad?” Rick teases his dad and me. Maurice gets up and puts his pants on, stretches, scratches his groin, and goes to the bathroom.

I go to pick up the trout at the end of the dock and come back. I use simple ingredients; fortunately, we have a couple of lemons, which Steve slices. I butter the fish I filleted with Rick’s fillet knife, then add the lemon, plus some salt and pepper. The fillets are put on a cooking sheet, covered with the lid of an old pot, and I slide the thing into the oven. Bob starts cooking the rice, into which he presses the remainder of the lemon. We have that bread that’s sold in a vacuum-packed bag. Steve will put two loaves in the oven near the end of the cooking. All that counts as a feast when you are in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by a zillion trees, a big bull moose, bears, and countless smaller animals.

Rick cooks a box of Kraft dinner for himself. They all look at me and start to laugh. They remember on the first trip to this camp–almost the same group, except some other guy instead of Steve–it was my turn to cook, and Kraft dinner was the menu of choice. I made such a mess of it that they all decided to eat toast and peanut butter instead. Yes, I did too. The guck I cooked was… disgusting. I was never asked to cook after that, including on this trip. My job was to do the dishes forever thereafter. But my trout fillets are a big–no, a huge success.

We’re leaving tomorrow morning. The seaplane is expected around 9 a.m. I play cards again, and yes, I get humiliated yet again. But hey, we have fun, and that’s all that matters. I can see this little group getting closer. Friendship develops, again. I inform Rick and Bob that I have what they need if they want a nice, fully renovated apartment. They will both call me on Monday. They seem keen on the offer.

11 p.m. comes, and we all do our business and go to bed. Nobody is surprised, nor should they be, to see Maurice and me sharing the same bed again. Steve turns the gas lamp off. Complete darkness envelops the cabin until our eyes adjust to it. Maurice shows his unrelenting affection by kissing me everywhere–around the neck, nose, mouth, ears, shoulders, and wherever else he can reach. We kiss with passion, love, and tenderness. Again, our hands explore the other’s body, and under the heavy blanket of darkness, we pleasure each other until our bodies and minds explode in magnificent jouissance.

We are quiet lovers to start: a little moan here; a groan there; the low growls of my bear deep in my neck; tongues licking sans noise; and hands rubbing to endless pleasures silently. Our noses are intoxicated by the masculine musk of our sweat, which covers our entire bodies. Fingers penetrate expecting and wanting love canals.

The explosions, when they finally arrive, are so ferocious that it is almost impossible to keep quiet. Mouth-on-mouth absorbs the joyful grunts of our pleasures. Our highs calm down. Our control returns. My big, hairy bear spoons my smaller, hairy body. Exhausted and satiated, we fall into a deep sleep, our hearts beating and our lungs breathing in perfect unison under the soft blanket of our love. It’s amazing what a couple of fingers can do.

*** *** ***

Chapter 4

Sunday, October 1

Maurice gets up before everyone else. He covers me to the jaw with the sleeping bag, and he dresses fast. He’s nervous. He would like so much for me to go home with him–no delays, right now. He sees himself at forty-five years old, with his life going by so fast, that he doesn’t want to lose a single minute away from his lover. He gets the stove started. The place is downright cccccold this morning. Steve gets up right after his brother and starts preparing breakfast. It will be a very simple breakfast. Coffee, plus toast and peanut butter. That’s about all that’s left, of course, with this being the last morning. It’s 7 a.m. Towering at 6’5″, Steve invites everyone to get up, eat, and pack. No one argues. The plane is due at 9 a.m. The weather is clear, so there will be no delays. Bill–the pilot–will be on time, as always.

The boys are quiet this morning. The day ahead will be a long one, a forty-minute flight to Fort-Coulonge, probably twenty minutes settling things at Bill’s place, then a four-hour drive to Montréal. Maurice will drop Rick off at his downtown Montréal apartment, and I will drop Bob off at his place on the West Island. Maurice has a forty-minute drive to his farm near Varennes. I estimate I should be home around 3 p.m.

***

I park in front of the complex where Bob lives and get out to give him a hand. Lo and behold, Stella, his wife, is in the window, watching our every move.

“Don’t pay attention to her, BJ,” he says, without looking at me. “She’s not worth it. I’ll call you tomorrow. Would a visit before lunch be all right?”

“Absolutely.” I reply. “You have my coordinates. It’s very easy to find. It’s a small street with six buildings, three on each side. It’s a dead end just below Wellington, on rue Ste-Madeleine, in Pointe St-Charles. I have something nice for you.”

“The rent is?” he asks.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow, Bob.” I say with a smile. “I’ll give you a hand with all this.”

He doesn’t refuse, which surprises me. I help him carry his luggage up to his apartment door. Stella opens the door, and before she can spit a single word, Bob firmly tells her, without yelling, “Not a word from you, and get out of the way.” She shows me the finger, and I shrug. I shake Bob’s hand and leave. I suspect that the rest of the day isn’t going to be very pleasant for them. I feel sorry for Bob and the kids.

***

I’m finally home. Ah, it feels so good. As I always do, I strip and dash for the shower. It’s been four days without one, and I can’t stand myself. I let the hot water run from my head down to my toes for quite a while before soaping and cleaning every nook and cranny my body hides. I shave and dress very casually. In other words, I put on my light sweatpants. I prepare a good batch of coffee; I’m an addict. It’s 3:30 p.m., so I can relax a little bit. I get my contract out and start going through it when the phone rings. I pick it up and answer without looking at who’s calling; I’m too absorbed by my reading.

“BJ. I’m downstairs. I’m parked double. Where can I park my truck?”

Maurice! He’s downstairs! I’m speechless. My brain stops, my heart leaps, and my cock grows.

“I’m coming down, Maurice.” That’s all I say. I’m so fucking excited. I drop my key card twice. I don’t have shoes on. I get back in my apartment and put on the first thing I see: my slippers. I run down three stories instead of using the elevator. Outside, Maurice is leaning casually on the front of his truck, waiting for me with a huge smile on his face. Man, I love him. I kiss him on the lips–a full and meaningful kiss, not caring one bit about whoever might be watching.

We get in his truck, and I hand him the key card. “It has a chip programmed to open all the doors, including the garage door. Of course, you have access to all the doors. You have two private parking spots, number one and two, at the end of the underground garage under the building.”

He looks at me. “You?”

I reply, “Yes. You have the car, not me.”

He nods.

“Just put the card in your visor or wherever; as you approach the garage, the reader will pick it up, and the door will open. I’ll give you another one that you carry in your wallet. You never have to take it out. Doors open by magic as you get close enough. I think it’s set for four feet for regular doors, and twenty feet for the garage. It’s nice to see you, Maurice. Man, you surprised me. Look at me. I’m half-naked, wearing loose sweatpants bulging at the crotch, with worn-out slippers on my feet.”

Maurice lets me get through the whole speech, smiling at me all the while. When I finish, he says, “I love you so fucking much, BJ.”

I smile at him. “I love you, too, Maurice.”

He parks his old, but very well-maintained, pick-up truck right over the dividing line between parking spots one and two. He leans over, and we kiss lustily. I suck his tongue hard, grab his manhood, and squeeze it just firmly enough. My Big Bear grunts, growls, and plunges his thick, enormous tongue down my throat, then grabs my cock, pumping it with a robust grip.

“Let’s get to your apartment, BJ,” he says, looking at me with his dark, hypnotizing eyes full of desire.

“There are cameras in the hallways and the elevators,” I tell him in case, well, you know…

We quickly enter the apartment. I look at him and point at his clothes. He understands and strips, exposing his huge, hairy body. We slept naked together in my sleeping bag twice, in near total darkness–an experience I will forever remember. Now, there he is, in front of me, completely nude. Maurice is a mature man of 45 years, 6’3″ tall, and 220 lbs of muscles. He has a strong, virile farmer’s build, with large, thick shoulders, a big chest, and a cute little belly supported by muscled thighs and legs. He’s very hairy: long, thick, black fur in front, from neck to groin, lighter on the back, from neck to buttocks. He has penetrating, dark brown eyes, under thick, black eyebrows and strong, masculine facial features. He’s well provided for, with a 9-inch, very thick, very straight, hard, uncut penis and a large, plump, hairy sack. He’s an impressive man with a masculine demeanour and a deep voice. He’s calm and perfectly composed all the time, but I’m starting to know him better. Under this hard carapace, he’s a tender, loving man and father. He’s quiet and observant. Most importantly, he’s, my man.

I push my sweatpants down so he can also enjoy my nakedness and my stiff cock pointing straight up. He looks at me for a long, delicious moment. I can feel the caress of his eyes on my body. I’m a small man, but far from being ashamed of my body. The proof of that is in his way of looking at me.

He grabs my hand and asks, “Where’s the bathroom?”

“We’ll use the one in my bedroom,” I say, pointing with my chin in the direction, and we both hurry there.

“Wow! What’s all this?” He waves broadly at the shower’s various bits and bob.

“Just turn this lever there,” I tell him. “We’ll use the other jets another time.”

Maurice turns the lever to hot water, and the main showerhead turns on. The spray is powerful and very wide. He stands behind me, his body glued to mine, and he puts his big, muscular, hairy arms around me.

“I can’t believe I’m holding you in my arms, BJ,” he says. Then his voice drops to a whisper. “Naked.” He kisses me on the neck. “I’ve dreamed about this for such a long time.”

He continues kissing me on the back of my neck, moving first to the right, then to the left. His big hands are rubbing my chest and belly. He moves his lower body sensually against my lower back and buttocks. Ah, man! It feels so good to be completely wrapped by a Big Bear’s naked body. His hard cock is lodged at the bottom of my crack, and his knob is between my thighs, touching my balls. I stay immobile, enjoying the sensuous and erotic movements of his big, dominating body. So good. I grab the bottle of body soap, turn around to face Maurice, and squirt tons of soap all over his beautiful body. I let the plastic bottle fall to the bottom of the shower, and I rub him vigorously. He stands there, big and solid, his deep, tender, dark eyes locked on me, and lets me wash every square inch of the mountain of muscles and hair. I take a long time rubbing his cock while he grunts. My hand reaches his balls and gently washes the hairy sack –so heavy.

He turns around, exposing that fantastic, rounded ass–so hard, so perfect, so hairy, so lovable and eatable. I start with the shoulders and work down his back. Both of my hands want to rub those gorgeous buttocks, and they each get what they desire. But it’s the right hand that gets into the bushy valley, finds the rosebud it caressed the night before, and lets its middle finger visit that wonderful, hot love canal.

“OH!” The big bear growls deeply and pushes against the loving finger, which goes in search of the sensitive and explosive button of pleasure. “Ah, fuck, yeah, BJ. Fuck, that’s so good.” I rub his prostate gently, but firmly and with rhythm.

Then, just like that, I stop. Maurice protests. “Later, Maurice. I’ll do whatever you want me to do later, in bed, but only after you make love to me.”

We kiss for a long time, and after Maurice washes me thoroughly, we get out of the shower. We dry ourselves and go to the living room. While my giant bear is looking through my DVD and Blu-Ray collections, I put his clothes in the washing machine. Maurice roams around my–or should I say our–apartment naked, to my delight.

“Is pizza ok for supper, Maurice?” I ask him.

“Great, BJ. Pepperoni and cheese, please.”

Wouldn’t you know it, but that’s the only pizza I eat. I order the pizza from Gino’s down around the corner–the best in town, in my opinion–with a six-pack of beer. He doesn’t sell beer. He buys it for me at the depanneur next door and delivers it with the pizza. I’ve been ordering from there forever. Gino’s is just a small place with two tiny tables by the window and a counter where people get their pizza. That’s it. He’s got two boys and a girl who deliver the pizzas by bike–or on foot, in my case.

“Twenty minutes,” I tell Maurice. He nods, and at the same time, he shows me the film he wants to watch: Dune, the newer version. It’s one of my favourites. I put on a pair of light sweatpants and a polo; I certainly don’t want to answer the door naked. Gino would kill me if one of his kids saw me in my birthday suit.

The pizza arrives five minutes earlier than planned. I give a large tip to Emilio, Gino’s youngest kid. He’s barely ten years old. After that, my clothes are gone again. Maurice and I sit down on the sofa, nude, with our pizza, some chips, and our beer on a tray set on our laps, and watch the movie on my giant screen TV. We both wear high-end Sennheiser headphones. I don’t want to disturb the neighbours.

We eat while watching the movie, and when finished, I pause it so we can get rid of the trays. Then we get comfortable on the sofa. We both have sex on our minds, but this little rest will give us more energy for our very long love session.

“I like your sofa. So comfortable. That big section there looks inviting, doesn’t it?” Maurice moves to that section that looks like a bed, almost. He sits with his back straight and well supported, legs apart. With a slight movement of his head, he invites me to sit–or more like lay between his legs with my back on his chest–an invitation too good to pass up. He slides down a bit to be able to lay his head on the back of the sofa, which causes me to lay on his body with his already hard manhood against my lower back. He puts his heavy arms around me and presses me against him as we lay quiet watching the last hour of the movie.

He kisses me on the head from time to time, and he softly rubs my chest and belly with his huge, callused hands. It’s incredibly comfortable and erotic. His kisses progress down to my nape, then to the right side of my neck, then the left. His hands get busier and lower; one of them caresses my groin around my cock, never touching it. I lay there breathing deeply, expecting him to take my tool in his hand, but he doesn’t do it. He’s teasing. His body moves ever so slightly, his cock rubbing me on the back in small, slow movements. He’s not watching the movie, and neither am I. I’m getting excited and, man, I want him to touch me–to grab my cock and wank it, please…

“The movie is finished, BJ,” he whispers in my ear. Time for bed. I want you, my little man.”

He lets himself slip down on his back on the sofa and pulls me on top of him at the same time. Damn, he’s strong. He starts kissing me, keeping me in place with his big arms wrapped around me. A few minutes later, we’re on our way to the bedroom. Lights go off automatically as soon as we leave the living room, and a soft light illuminates my bedroom. The curtains close automatically–total intimacy.

As we approach the bed, Maurice circles his arms around me from the back, and he kisses me on the neck and shoulders. The light kisses are amplified by the roughness of his unshaven face. I love it. I let him proceed as he wishes. I’m happy to let him take charge. His hands rub my chest and belly, and occasionally one plunges lower and teases my manhood, or my ass, or even my rosebud. He moans and grunts in a very low tone of voice that sends ripples all over my body. I feel his hard member below my butt crack. I move my derriere from left to right slowly, rhythmically rubbing his thick cock.

His arms let go of me, and he moves his light kissing down my back as he lowers himself, with his hands sliding down my sides. Oh, gawd! He’s going to… Oh! There he is. His tongue–a hard, wet tongue–explores my private valley. His hand gently separates my buttocks. Oh, man! Aah! Damn! He’s licking around the perineum, getting closer and closer to my pot of gold.

“Oh. Maurice,” I whisper.

His tongue is all over my rosebud, wet and warm. I feel a slight pressure, then a wet lick, and another. Maurice pushes a little harder and gets inside me with a sudden, very firm push of his tongue. I involuntarily jerk. He growls. Then he moves back, plunges again, and repeats this movement, his wanting tongue getting further inside almost every time he pushes. What a feeling!

He gets up and turns me around, and I look at that smiling face of his. His hands softly hold my face, and his eyes, filled with tenderness and love, hold mine, and we kiss passionately, holding each other tightly, rubbing our backs. We move to the bed. I sit down on the edge, and Maurice kneels in front of me. His look asks for permission, and I certainly agree with what he’s going to do next. With his hands flat on the bed on each side of my thighs, he lowers himself to my groin. My heart accelerates along with my breathing. Man, oh man, he’s going to suck my dick!

He licks my balls, and each one gets its share of tongue loving. He sucks them in his mouth and rolls them around. Aaah! So good. I squirm with pleasure. He gently pushes me on my back and pushes my legs apart. His right middle finger properly wetted plays around my rosebud. My mind goes wild. My balls are suddenly both in his mouth at the same time, and his large finger plays with my love hole. Oh shit! It’s so good! I anticipate what that finger will do to me, and expect the same pleasure as experienced during what I now call our “sleeping bag romance.” But Maurice decides otherwise. His tongue wets my hard shaft and stops on the tip of my glans. The end of his hard pointed-tongue plays all around the slit and goes around the edge of my crown. Aaah! Man. I can’t believe the sensation. My knob suddenly disappears into his mouth and gets the royal treatment.

His tongue sucking and swirling around my dick nearly overload my senses. The next moment, his lips and nose hit the bottom of my cock. His nose plunges into my pubic fur. The pumping starts, up and down, while his tongue twists around my shaft, sucking lightly on the way up. My knob is never neglected; my big bear pays a lot of attention to that bundle of joy. Then he sucks vigorously while pumping faster and faster. My mind is overwhelmed by pleasure. I want to come. I feel it coming. I squirm and twist, and Maurice abruptly stops. I grunt, wanting him to continue.

My big bear climbs on top of me and starts kissing me wildly. “Not yet, BJ,” he whispers into my ear. “Not yet.”

His breathing excites me, his hairy body rubbing mine excites me, and his big, hard dick engages in a frottage session with mine, which excites me even more, almost to the point of coming. Maurice, sensing my excitement, stops and pulls up a little bit. “Not yet, love.” That’s torture.

He rolls on his back and pulls me to him. Not a word is said. His look says it all. It’s my turn to “warm him up,” so to speak. To his surprise, I start with his feet–snowshoe-size feet. He’s a little ticklish, but he lets me kiss and rub his feet with my beard. I proceed upwards and completely avoid his cock. He grunts, and I reply, “Not yet, Maurice. Not yet.”

My big bear starts to laugh, and he caresses my hair with his paws. I lick and kiss his belly and stomach, and I pay a lot of attention to his very sensitive nipples –another souvenir from our “sleeping bag romance.” I lay on his big, heavenly, hairy body, and I kiss him all over the neck and face. My tongue plunges deep into his mouth, playing around with his monstrous tongue. Ummm! So goddam good. I love the sound of his excited breathing through his nose and his hands pressing me hard when I hit a sensitive spot or when we kiss with passionate love–like now.

Then I move down to his groin, our eyes still locked together, and I lick his inner thighs just under his sack. He softly growls in expectation. My tongue wets him from the edge of his anus to his balls; he squirms, and I feel his desire for more exploration. Being a good sport, I oblige him. My tongue teases the contour of his rosebud; he moans and groans. Then it visits the sensitive region between his anus and his balls, and he groans and growls of pleasure. This is the most erotic, sensual, and sexual pleasure I’ve had in a long time.

His nine-inch, throbbing cock stands erect, wanting its turn. I do more or less what Maurice did to me a few minutes ago. The sensation of having his spectacular round and plump knob in my mouth is exhilarating. Wow! Maurice’s cock in my mouth, nearly makes me come. I let my imagination take over and do my best to give him as much pleasure as he gave me. I’m not able to take his full manhood into my mouth, but I’ll work at it every chance I get to please him. I feel him tense and breathe heavily. I stop. I’m out of breath and smiling like an idiot at my big-eyed bear.

“Christ, BJ. You sure can suck my cock. A bit more, please?”

“Not yet, Maurice. Not yet.”

I move back onto his big body. I look at him with lust and love, and say, “Make love to me. I want you in me, Maurice. I can’t wait anymore. I want to come with you in me–all of you in me.”

I kiss him lustfully, and I roll over by his side. He climbs on me, his legs between mine, his elbows by my sides; he lowers his head, kisses me, and whispers, “I want you so much, BJ. I love you.”

He reaches for the bottle of lubricant on the nightstand and applies a generous amount to my hole, hidden between my small but hard and tight buttocks. He rubs his cock and gets into position. I’m completely relaxed and ready for him. I’ve been dreaming about being loved by a Big Bear for a long time, and I’ve prepared for such an occasion with, you know, specialized equipment.

I lift my legs up and wide, and I hold them behind my knees. Maurice lifts my ass a little bit more and pulls two big pillows under my behind. The entrance to my love canal is no longer a secret. It stands open and wanting, ready for the visit of a lifetime: Maurice’s big cock.

Gently, big bear places his knob against my rosebud, rubs it gently, and pushes a little against it. I breathe in and look into my lover’s eyes. Then he pushes further in and, with little effort, breaks through the sphincter. I jerk a little. Wow! It’s hard, and soft, and warm. I breathe in deeply, I nod, and Maurice, his eyes never leaving mine, pushes in a little more. Oh my god! The feeling is incredible. There’s pain, but I’ll be damned if I say so. I want him. I nod again, and his cock is all in. “Oh, man!” I whisper. I close my eyes for a second.

“You hurt, love?” asks Maurice.

“No. A little bit. But it is so good. Incredible. Maurice, please.”

“Relax, love,” he says. “Let yourself go.” Then he lowers his face close to mine, his eyes lost in lust land. He brushes my lips, my ears, and my neck.

I close my eyes again. I breathe deeply. I feel his wonderful manhood in me, and I start moving my lower body. He stays still and lets me continue. The pain is subsiding. He’s inside me. He starts with slow, small movements back and forth. My hands on his biceps; I wrap my legs around him try to match is rhythm. His movement is long, smooth, slow, and so delicious–so wonderful. Pain and pleasure are mixed, but pleasure quickly overshadows the pain. Only his butt is moving, with the rest of him immobile. His eyes are deadlocked on mine, and his breathing is steady and deep. He lowers his head, and we kiss. My bed is, at this very moment, our heaven. But I will not last long.

“Maurice, I’m close. I can’t… Shit!” I try to stop or control…

“Let go, BJ. Come, Little Bear. Come with me…”

I tense, and then my mind bursts into an amazing firework. Maurice growls deeply a few times, a minute or two after me; I’m not sure exactly. We are both flying high. I feel my stomach and my chest wet with my manly juice, but nothing beats the feeling of Maurice’s hot cum deep inside me.

Big Bear’s head is resting on my shoulder, and he’s breathing fast and deeply. He’s slowly coming down from his high, and so am I. I feel our wet bodies glued together. His cock is still in me, and it’s quite hard. I just lay with him on top of me, elated and satiated.

Slowly, Maurice slips out of me and lies next to me on his back. Like him, I’m still hard as a rock.

“That was fantastic, BJ, my love.” Maurice says, out of breath. “Man, sex is going to be heaven for us, I’m sure. I love you so much, Little Bear.” Maurice leans over me, and we kiss for a while. Then we press our bodies together with his big arm around me–silent, content, and wanting more.

A few minutes later, we start dancing again. No need for preliminaries; Maurice gets on top of me, and we go at it with vigour and burning desire. His big cock pistons me furiously for quite a while, and I grab it by contracting my ass as soon as it plunges into the depth on my love canal. Now that’s a fuck–a needed, vigorous fuck to release all that sexual energy we bottled up for three days. We come a little apart in a wonderful explosion of pleasure. Then we rest a few minutes.

We play the ‘kissing all over’ game. At some point, I find myself under him, sucking his cock while he deepthroats mine–shit! It’s so damn good! We both growl, grunt, and purr as we suck each other for a quite a while.

Maurice gets off me and lies on his belly. What a sight–the huge, hairy shoulders dipping into the valley of his lower back, followed by the rise of his fury buttocks.

“BJ,” he whispers. “You know what I want, don’t you?”

Damn! That’s an invitation one can absolutely not refuse.

I get on top of him and kiss him all over his neck and shoulders, progressing downward to his magnificent ass. My nose furrows down his crack, closely followed by my avid tongue. Soon enough, tongue finds rosebud and they make intimate acquaintance. Rosebud falls in love with tongue and lets it in for a visit. But tongue is very curious and wants to explore deeper. Fortunately for tongue, sphincter is completely relaxed, and lets it prolong its visit. Tongue gets in a little further and starts playing the ‘in-and-out cuckoo’ game.

I climb back on him, lying on him. I whisper into his ear, “I want you, Maurice.” All I get is a deep and long, “Ummmmm… please, my love.”

I lube my cock and his wet derriere, and I let my hard cock find its way into that glorious ass. Ah! Man! I can’t believe I’m going to fuck this gorgeous, big, bearish man. At this point in our lovemaking, our bodies are so relaxed that the penetration is smooth and extraordinarily sensual. I slip into Maurice, nice and slow, savouring every inch of his love canal. My knob rubs it along the way until my balls are touching his huge sack. Maurice moans quietly and grabs my cock from within. I feel the walls of his rectum pressing my dick and releasing it in rhythm with my penetration.

I start pumping my ass up and down in long, slow movements. We both moan and groan. I lower my body onto his, and we both get into a wonderful dance–slow at the beginning, ramping up to a frantic fuck–the fuck of my life so far. Maurice is pumping his ass furiously, meeting my cock’s hard incursions. We’re breathing hard, deeply, and fast. Our bodies are covered in sex sweat. We’re near exhaustion when lust takes full control and guides us into nuclear, orgasmic ecstasy.

*** *** ***

Chapter 5

Monday, October 2

Bob and I are sitting in the kitchen having coffee and cookies–homemade peanut butter cookies–discussing his choice of apartment. He wants the two-bedroom on the upper floor of the building next to mine, unit C-3. That’s the building sandwiched between this one and the one on the corner. The conditions are simple; it comes fully furnished in his case because he has no furniture. He left it all to his soon-to-be ex-wife. He needs the second bedroom to accommodate his children when they visit. I tell him where to shop, as everything is already prearranged for him. “You pick what you want,” I tell him. “Gisele, a friend of mine, will help you with all the details. All you have to pay for, Bob, are the usual utilities. The building is heated, and hot water is included as part of the lodging commodities. There’s no rent for you to pay. You’re my friend, and I can afford it.”

“Well, BJ, thank you,” he says, looking surprised. “I don’t know what to say.”

At that moment, Rick enters my apartment with a big smile on his face. He found what he wanted, so, I tell him exactly what I told Bob. He, too, is dumbfounded.

“Really, BJ?” He looks at me, then at Bob. “I can choose all my furniture? You’re kidding? Aren’t you?”

“Yes,” I tell him with a big smile. “Whatever you need. Like I told Bob, Gisele is waiting for you guys to go and see her. She’ll show you what’s available for you to choose from. The sooner you see her, the faster you’ll have your apartment. She will also organize the delivery of the furniture and the installation of the appliances, the drapes, and all those things. She has a large checklist, so be ready for her, or she will choose for you.”

“Well, BJ,” Bob says, getting up. “Thank you so much. I’ll call her later this afternoon.”

“You’re welcome, Bob. I’ll see you later this week.” We shake hands, and he leaves. He’s got a lot on his mind, and it shows. I don’t envy him. Such a brutal change this late in his life, not to mention how the kids might react.

“Nice guy,” Rick says, after Bob leaves the apartment. “Ok, BJ. You’re coming with me to the farm. Come on.”

“Euh! I’m not… What the hell? Okay, Rick, let’s go.”

“Bring an overnight bag, BJ. You’ll need to brush your teeth and whatever else you need.”

I throw a few things in a leather backpack, and we leave. I’m so excited–a second night with Maurice. It doesn’t show, I know. I’m not very demonstrative, but I’m a nervous wreck. Oh, man. I want him so badly. He left me an SMS earlier this morning. He wants to come over for supper and to sleep over. I answered yes, of course. I take my cell, but Rick stops me.

“Don’t, BJ,” he says, putting a hand on the phone. “It’s a surprise. He doesn’t know we’re coming over. I love to surprise him. He’s like you; he doesn’t show much emotion, but I’ll get a frown or a smile–perhaps more in this case. You know he loves you. I’ve never seen him like he is now. Never. I’m so pleased it’s working out between the two of you. He’s been thinking about you for years. Bob wouldn’t let him near you, and then he realized that my dad was really serious. He stopped his hunting, if you know what I mean. He refused all the guys wanting his attention. He stopped drinking and smoking. Dad wanted to go hunting this year, and he hinted at you. Bob organized the trip, and here you are. Thank you, BJ. You’re younger than me, but that’s meaningless. You make my dad happy, and that’s what counts.”

“Well, Rick,” I say as seriously as I can, “I promise you that I’ll do whatever it takes to make him happy, because he does the same for me. I love him with all my heart.”

We remain silent for the rest of the ride. Then, as we drive on that straight country road, I see Maurice near a barn. He’s a massive man; he’s hard to miss. He pays no attention to us at all.

Rick smiles. “He never pays attention to the traffic,” he says with a big grin. “Wait till he sees us driving in.”

A couple of minutes later, Rick stops next to the house. Maurice looks our way, frowning. Then a large smile appears on his face, and he walks rapidly towards us.

“Look at that smile, BJ,” Rick says. “Wow! I’ve won the lottery, haven’t I?” He bursts out laughing.

Maurice approaches with great strides towards the both of us, standing side by side in front of Rick’s car.

“Rick, my boy,” Maurice says, looking at his son. “Christ, you’re one good man.” He slaps him on the back, then grabs me in his arms and kisses me full on the mouth, right there.

“Fuck, I’m so fucking happy to see you, BJ.” He looks at his son and says, “Thank you, Rick. You’re staying overnight,” he says to me, his eyes penetrating mine. “I’ll drive you back tomorrow morning. Or perhaps not…” He bursts into laughter.

“BJ, come with me,” my Big Bear says, waving his arm. Rick and I follow him to the barn, and we get inside. It’s a large, nice, bright, and clean-as-a-whistle space housing three older horses, with their heads out of their stalls looking at Maurice. I’d swear they’re smiling.

Rick taps me on the back and says, “They are his treasure. You’ll love them too, I’m sure.”

“I love animals, Rick.”

“BJ,” Maurice says with pride, “let me introduce you to Rose on the left; she’s sweet and calm. That’s Daisy; she has a little attitude, but with a sugar cube, you’ll have her do whatever you want. And there’s Charlie; he’s a big, older stallion, a bit rough around the edges. He doesn’t like strangers.”

“Dad saved him from the slaughterhouse,” Rick says, interrupting his dad. “He was in poor shape; he was maltreated and beaten. He’s a mean beast, BJ. He bites. He loves Dad, and he kind of tolerates me and Mitch, our foreman. On a bad day, we can’t get near him, so be careful.”

“He ain’t that bad, BJ,” Maurice intervenes.

I get a bunch of sugar cubes from Maurice, which I shove into my pocket, and with a movement of his head towards the horses, he smiles at me. I walk slowly towards Charlie’s stall. Maurice stands back, silent. Charlie, his ears firm and mostly straight up–though pointing slightly forward–looks directly at me as I walk without hesitation or fear. I’m not afraid of horses or any other animals. I talk to him softly and clearly, with one cube hidden in my right hand. I get to his stall. He’s tall, and his big, dark eyes are locked on me. He remains quiet. I address him in a quiet tone. I’m only a couple of feet from him.

“Charlie!” I say, returning his direct gaze, “I’m BJ, Maurice’s lover. Don’t worry, I won’t take him away from you. Of course not.” While I’m talking to him, his ears move right and left. He’s listening. He looks at Maurice, who stands immobile and quiet, smiling. I tend my hand open flat with the sugar cube in it slightly out of reach. “We both love him, so we can share him and be friends, you and me.” I move my hand forward. Charlie reaches down and slurps the sugar from my hand. His enormous tongue wets my whole hand. I put another cube on it and with another slurp, it disappears.

“I’ll be fucking damned,” Maurice spits out, surprised.

“Did you see that, Dad?” Rick exclaims, “There, he takes another cube from BJ. No way!”

At that moment, Mitch walks in. Charlie raises its head to check who the newcomer is, then ignores him. He prefers the sugar cubes that the new biped, who smells a bit like his saviour, has in his hands. I gently caress the old horse on the side of his head, and I stand back. Of course, Rose and Daisy are snorting, wanting their share. As I move to Daisy’s stall, right next to Charlie’s, the big horse moves with me. I pay no attention to him while I feed Daisy her sugary recompense.

I turn towards Charlie. He’s looking at my hand, which is empty. He lowers his head, licks my hand, and waits silently. I place two more cubes on my flat hand. They disappear with one big wet slurp. I cannot ignore Rose, who patiently waits for her turn. She seems to know that inevitably she will get her share. I touch her nose; she lowers her head closer and sniffs out loud. I take a cube, put it on my open hand, and she tongues it. I wait a second or two, and we do the same dance. I pet the side of her head and walk away. She is so sweet. These are three beautiful and happy horses. I pet each one again, more for my pleasure than theirs. Although Charlie is, in my opinion, beautiful, he probably wouldn’t win any beauty contests.

I turn around, and I see three faces truly amazed by what they just witnessed. There’s a big, rough-looking guy next to Maurice–a bit older than him, I think–and my man elbows him in the side. and proudly tells him, I think, “That’s my BJ,” he says proudly. The horses are still by the edge of their stall, leaning over the barrier–expecting more sugar, I suppose.

“BJ, this is Mitch, our foreman.” Maurice has his right hand on my back–lower back, that is–rubbing me gently, kindling lusty desires.

“BJ, nice to meet you. I hope you’re moving in so we can get some peace from that Big Bear of yours. All he talks about is you.” Mitch gives me an up-and-down look, “I can see why he likes you, though.” He’s shaking my hand vigorously with a big smile on display. Like Maurice, he’s a big guy with masculine features, a rough-looking, clean-shaven face, and short, brown hair under a large cowboy hat. He’s a little bit shorter than Maurice and has a strong body. His voice is calm, measured, and somewhere around a baritone level. His striking blue eyes are piercing and intelligent, with surprisingly bushy light grey eyebrows. Like Maurice, he has a commanding presence. I can tell immediately that the pair of them have a very special relationship. It’s nothing to do with sex. It’s just a solid, manly relationship where they understand each other with a minimum of words.

“Nice to meet you too, Mitch.” I avoid the moving-in thing. “I’ll be happy to work with you guys, although I know nothing about working on a farm.”

“It’s all physical work,” Maurice interjects. “You’ll learn fast, no doubt about that. Okay, time for lunch, boys. Mitch, I’ll see you at two, as usual. Oh, euh, would you like to join us?”

“Thanks, but Elena has already prepared lunch for me. See you at two.” He tips his hat, turns around, and heads towards is ATV.

Maurice, in a move that surprises me, takes my hand, and we walk towards the house.

“You hungry, BJ? I know Rick is, just look at him. He’s drooling…” Maurice laughs.

Just before entering the house through the back porch, Maurice hugs me tight and whispers to my ear, “Welcome home, BJ.” He kisses me; his mouth is all over mine, and his tongue teases my lips. I return the kiss, my tongue chasing his. A few moments later, we enter through what looks like a mudroom. It’s rather large, with a bench on the left and a coat rack above it. Boots and shoes are lined up under the bench. To the right, a door opens to a bathroom with a large shower. The whole space is tiled with white ceramic tiles. It’s clean as a whistle. I’m impressed.

“At the end of the day,” Maurice says, looking at me with a hint of a dirty smile, “we always enter through here, strip naked, and take a shower before getting into the house. Sadly, this is lunch time…” Then, very quietly, he says, “I love you, my Little Bear. This is your house–your home. Man, I want you with me as fast as you can make it.”

“In a week or two, Maurice,” I answer him. “I want it just as badly as you do.” I grab the front of his shirt, pull him to me, and kiss him with passion. I can feel his manly arousal matching mine. Rick, who’s already in the kitchen, interrupts our mouth-lovemaking.

“Hey, guys! Stop munching on each other’s mouths and get in here. I’m hungry.”

Maurice precedes me into the kitchen. He gets going with preparing the food, three huge hamburger steaks. I’m tasked with preparing mashed potatoes precisely according to Big Bear’s recipe. He’s watching me doing it from the corner of his eyes; love hasn’t made him forget that I’m a bad cook. I think that a shadow of a smile appears on his face. Rick cooks the meat, and Maurice prepares a huge veggie salad while supervising us–me more closely than Rick, of course. When the meat is cooked, Rick sets the large pieces in a preheated toaster oven, waiting for Maurice to make the sauce in the pan he just used. It produces a heavenly thick, pale brown sauce spiced just right.

“Oh, man! This is good.” I can’t help myself. “That’s a hamburger steak. The best I’ve ever had.” I ate about two thirds of the gigantic piece of meat, and Maurice gladly takes the rest from my plate. Rick just looks at us and smiles.

Rick just looks at us, and smiles. “You two look so good together,” he says.

Maurice, obviously surprised at the comment, looks at Rick and nods. “Thanks, Rick.” He finally manages to growl after he takes a sip of his hot cup of tea.

“Okay,” Maurice says, pushing past the moment, “let’s do the dishes, boys. After that, BJ, you’re coming with me. Euh, Rick, do you have some jeans and boots for BJ? You’re close to the same size, I think.”

“Yup, Dad.” The dishes only take six or seven minutes to do. “BJ, come with me. I’ll set you up. I think Dad means to introduce you to real farm work. I’d be worried if I were you.” A grinning Rick slaps me on the back, and I follow him to the mudroom at the back of the kitchen.

There’s a large walk-in wardrobe located behind the bench. It’s full of neatly folded or hung clothes. More boots and all the winter clothes are stored at the end of it. Within a few minutes, I’m dressed like a farmer’s boy, ready to go to work. The boots are a little loose, but nothing that can’t be fixed by wearing two pairs of thick wool socks.

***

At the end of the afternoon, around five p.m., the sun floats low on the horizon. Mitch is cleaning the dirt off his overalls with his large hands. He straightens up, and, with his blue eyes examining me closely, he says, “Christ, BJ, you’re one hell of a tough young man. You don’t even look tired!”

“Oh, I’m tired, Mitch. You sure gave me quite a ride this afternoon. I loved every moment, but this is only one day for me. Both of you do that almost every day; the day is not even finished. There’s still more work to do. I look forward to coming and working with you guys.”

A big hand lands softly on my back in the middle of my shoulder blades. Maurice looks at Mitch, both surprised by my physical condition. I work out three times a week at a gym within a short walking distance of my apartment. But still, we worked very hard, mending fences and rebuilding a couple of culverts. I’m a mess, full of mud, dust, and god knows what else. I stand there smiling, satisfied with my afternoon performance, and feeling more tired than I look.

Mitch jumps on his ATV and waves at us. “See you tomorrow, boss,” and disappears on the other side of the thick bushes lining the path back to the barn, over a kilometre away.

“You drive, BJ. I’m bushed.” Maurice waits for me to settle on the ATV, and he gets behind me. He puts his arms around my waist. The trail is quite rough. He’s sitting very close to me. I can feel his warm breath on my neck.

The shower is a godsend. I soap up my Big Bear and wash him thoroughly. He does the same to me. Of course, we are both aroused by our soapy nakedness and our wandering hands. We kiss with delight and desire, play a little with each other’s eager appendages, finally dry each other, and dress in sweatpants and T-shirts.

“You know, BJ,” Maurice says, examining my beard closely. “I think you’d look beautiful without that beard.” That surprises me. It feels to me like a nice way to say he doesn’t really like my beard. I’ll think about it. The thing is, I like it.

The stone fireplace in the kitchen is roaring and warming the place. Rick has prepared a homemade beef and barley soup. One has to emphasize the “beef” part of his soup. A fresh and hot loaf of bread is cooling on the island that looks more like a continent to me. That’s where supper is going to be served. Rick loves to eat while sitting by the island. There’s a skylight right above it, and stars are already piercing the darkening sky. I feel at home here.

“So, BJ,” Rick asks, “how was your afternoon?” His question is devoid of mockery. He already knows I worked hard and that I kept up with the two giants. I suspect that Mitch told him so.

“Very good. Hard work, as I expected. This is not like gardening in a city backyard. Here, it’s for real. I’m tired, of course, but I feel so good and so relaxed. The shower helped with the aches and pains.” I can’t help but have a little grin on my face.

Rick notices it and says, “Yeah, showers will do that for you.” He’s looking at his dad, who’s watching us talk. As usual, Maurice is quiet. He enjoys the moment, and he grins at his son’s comment.

The soup is spectacularly good. It’s meaty, filling, hot, and comforting. After eating our fill, we go sit in front of the fireplace. Maurice pulls me against him and wraps his arm around my shoulders. I love it, but I’m still sort of getting used to this hugging. Rick winks at me. He, too, is surprised to see his dad so cuddly. It’s the same for Rick in many ways. He never saw his dad like this: in love.

“Mitch called a little before you arrived,” Rick announces. “He says that he will take care of the horses tonight if they let him. If not, he will call one of you to the rescue.”

At that very moment, Maurice’s cell starts vibrating on the coffee table. He picks it up. A simple message appears: Help. He shows me the phone. “Mitch is in trouble,” he says, smirking.

“I’ll go. No problem.” I offer, looking at Maurice.

“I’m coming too,” Maurice says, “With the two of us, it’ll go faster. By the way, do you know what to do?”

“Euh… You’ll show me, won’t you?”

The three of us laugh at my reply and the innocent face I make.

***

“Ummm… Keep that rhythm, BJ,” Maurice whispers. “Aah! So good. You fuck so well… Umm.”

I let myself go completely. We’re dancing at the perfect sex tempo. It’s magnificent, erotic, lustful, and totally mind-boggling. I can feel my cock rubbing his smooth and warm love canal. He presses on my love stick every few penetrations. Aah, fuck, it’s so damn good. His big hands are rubbing my back and my arms, and sometimes he gently takes my face into them, pulls me down, and kisses me with a passion that melts me. His legs are wrapped around my waist, which adds to the sensuality of our mating.

He made love to me for a long time before rolling me on top of him. We talk very little. We sense what the other one wants rather than tell or ask. Once on top of him, he raised his legs and pushed his hips upwards, and I just let my cock find its way through his rosebud.

Our hairy bodies are rubbing together. I can feel every inch of me demanding more of this delicious, goosebump-giving contact. Wow! I never imagined that sex with a man could be this good–this elating. Our three orgasms so far have been explosive.

“Maurice…” I growl very low.

“I know… Let go, BJ. Cum my Little Beeeaaarrrr…”

I come a few seconds after my big lover bear. Christ, my mind melts–My body explodes. I finally collapse onto that big body, breathless, with my heart beating furiously. Maurice is kissing me all over my face, neck, and shoulders. His tongue finds its way into my willing mouth.

We are exhausted, soaked, wet, and so bloody completely satisfied. After our highs deflate, we shower, change the bed, and go to sleep, for a few hours, with my Big Bear cuddled comfortably on my back.

*** *** ***

Chapter 6

Tuesday, 3 October

Maurice lightly snores, lying on his back right next to me. I can feel his deep and slow breathing. I slip out of bed, take my jeans, t-shirt, and my socks, and tiptoe out of the bedroom. It’s 4:30 a.m. and still dark.

I grab a muffin on the huge island in the kitchen, then quickly dress. I grab a light coat from the closet in the mudroom, leave through the back door, and make my way to the stable where Rose, Daisy, and Charlie reside.

I lovingly pet all three while I feed them a couple of sugar cubes. I let them out of their stall so they can move around a little. I call Rose, and she slowly makes her way to me. I caress her with my hands on each side of her large head and kiss her just above the nose. I install the feeder filled with her preferred mixture of whatever Maurice prepared for her. Daisy stands right next to me, awaiting her turn. I do the exact same thing to her. Then, after walking around ignoring me, Charlie decides that it’s his turn to be taken care of. He approaches and lowers his towering head so I can install his feeder. He also gets a kiss right above the nose. I pet him on the side while he eats. I walk around the big, dark brown horse, and I see the marks and scars left by his previous master. I softly tap him on the rear end. The big male doesn’t move a muscle. I’m surprised.

Rose and Daisy are apparently finished eating. Feeder off, brush at the ready, and go. Rose is the first to be brushed down. She loves it. Meanwhile, Charlie demands attention. Oops! He’s finished feeding. Once freed from his feeder, he goes for a walk around the small stable while I attend to Daisy. Charlie nudges me on the back. It’s my turn to pretend that he’s not there. Charlie whinnies and nudges me again. I turn around, with a big smile on my face, holding his brush.

Now that they’re fed, brushed, and watered, it’s time to go outside in the back pasture. It’s not big, but they’re not young, and they don’t run around. We can easily see them from the kitchen’s large bay window.

Two hours later, as I enter the kitchen, the smell of toast, bacon, and eggs being cooked awakens my stomach. After an early morning of demanding exercise and an incredible night with Maurice, my body is screaming for food. He turns around from the wood stove–that’s where he prefers to cook whenever possible–and smiles that charming, hypnotizing smile of his, and grunts, “Mornin’, BJ.”

He turns, facing the stove, to flip the bacon strips around. Damn, he’s naked. The apron covers the front, but not his massive back, his wide shoulders, and those hard, muscled, furry buns. God Il love those. I get an instant hard-on, of course.

“Sit, Little Bear. Breakfast is ready.” His voice is a low growl that sends shivers down my spine and to my balls. “I saw that you let the horses out. That’s good. Any trouble? He’s frowning out of concern.

“None,” I answer. “They were fantastic. They’re fed, watered, and brushed. Charlie nudged me in the back; he wanted me to brush him. I made him wait. He has a sense of humour, I’m sure of it.”

Maurice just looks at me, dumbfounded, then asks, “What do you mean?”

“Well, when it was time to install his feeder, he made me wait. He walked around, ignoring me. He just continued walking around the stable. So, I just waited for him. After I removed his feeder, he patiently waited until I finished with Daisy. When I did, he was waiting for his brushing. I ignored him. He whinnied and then nudged me in the back. He wanted to be brushed.”

“I’ll be damned,” he says. Then his voice gets low; I can hear the tinge of sadness in it. “You’ll be back soon, BJ?”

“Yes, Maurice. I promise. Today, we negotiate a new agreement. They’ve agreed to kill the current contract and put in place a more suitable arrangement.” I pause as Maurice puts an enormous plate of morning goodies in front of me.

“You need it. You worked hard yesterday, last night, and this morning. Thanks, by the way.”

He puts an even bigger plate next to me, then comes and sits down. Christ, he’s hot. I can see the enormous tent forming in the apron. Man, I would eat that instead…

Oops! Rick walks into the kitchen in his boxers and tells his dad in a mocking, raspy morning voice, “Can’t you dress in the morning? You’re always showing off that hairy ass of yours.”

“I’ve been doing this forever,” Maurice replies. “You weren’t born yet, and I was always going around naked in the morning and when I go home at the end of the day. Sit down, son. I’ll fix your breakfast.” Maurice’s tone is soft and tender. His son is everything to him.

“Nah.” Rick says. “Just enjoy your meal with BJ. I’ll get a coffee and go take a shower. That’ll give you time to get soft, won’t it?” Then he leaves with his big mug of coffee, laughing.

To my surprise, I finish all the goodies on my plate.

Maurice looks at me with that lusty look of his and asks, “Shower?”

How the hell can I say no? We hurry to the bedroom and jump into the shower. Maurice pins me to the wall underneath the shower head and lowers his head to my ear. “Is it okay?” he whispers.

“Oh, please, Big Bear.”

I spread my legs a little. He soaps me up and penetrates me slowly, deliciously, then starts pumping his magnificent manhood up and down my love canal. Fuck, it’s so good. His big left hand grabs my cock and strokes it in rhythm with our fucking. It doesn’t take long for either of us to come to an incredible, fast orgasm. I hope we do this every time we shower. Maurice holds me tightly while his breathing and heart rate slow down. He kisses me on the neck and whispers, “I love you so much, BJ. Thank you for being part of my life.”