The Point Reyes peninsula is reportedly the second foggiest place in the United States. I don't know where the winner is but Point Reyes can't be far behind. I had driven up from San Francisco with a couple of days free and wanted to hike some of the PR peninsula. As I crossed the bridge and headed up past Sausalito the day was clear and warm but almost immediately as I turned up the road from Olema the mist set in. Oh, well. I had expected it and wasn't concerned. I parked the car in a pull off area by a trail head, grabbed my sweater and jacket and began hiking.
As I started the sun was shining through the fog and I tied the sweater and jacket around my waist to but as I continued the mist got deeper and the sun clouded over. I began to layer up against the damp.
I was already about a mile from the car when it started getting really think but being careful was second nature to me and I kept my bearings with my compass. There's actually something cool about being surrounded by this white mist, something liberating. Fog on Point Reyes is not a wimpy thing. It curls in and wraps you like a wet blanket, creating a disoriented world, not Stephen King but still sort of "off". I like it.
Or so I thought. About half an hour along, I was coming down a steep slope, the grass was slick and suddenly I was sliding. My jacket and sweater hitched up on my shoulders as I lid down the slope on my back, tumbled once, banging my shin hard on some rocks and landing finally when my feet jammed into a stream at the bottom of the hill. I felt pretty stupid but no serious harm had happened. I was muddy all over from the slide, my shoes and pants were soaked up to my butt, and my shin was really scraped but the big thing as it turned out was my compass. Shattered.
So, up the slope I scrambled, back onto the path and head back toward the car. Or so I thought (again). The fall had probably confused me a little and I must have turned the wrong way or angled off somehow but after another half an hour it was clear that I was on the wrong track. I hadn't a clue which direction I was heading but I figured continued motion was the answer. And I kept walking.
Actually, I was beginning to be concerned. Number one, I was clearly lost, and number two, I was getting really chilled. Under those circumstances one begins to think about finding some shelter and waiting it out. The only problem was, where? As I stumbled along, I suddenly heard what sounded like a snort. Bear? No, in another second I realized. A cow! I bumped up against some fencing and on the other side I could see cattle under some shedding. At least THEY were comfortable. But if they were under cover and taken care of, that had to mean that I would find something. Sure enough, as I moved around the fencing, I caught the outlines of a building and a glow of light through a window. Cool! I stumbled over and just as I was about to knock the door opened.
"Thought I heard something out here. We've got puma and dogs. But I wasn't expecting a guy." The speaker was about 6 feet, rangy, dark hair, dressed in jeans and boots, no shirt.
"Yeah, I'm afraid I was hiking and got caught in the fog. Haven't a clue where I am."
"Well, come on in. You look cold."
It was a one room cabin, shed porch on the front with what was probably a latrine enclosure at the end of the porch. The room held a wood burning stove, an old electric stove, sink, small fridge. Otherwise, a table, couple of chairs, a bench, and a bed. Basic, but adequate for a herder's needs.
"Thanks. Sorry to intrude like this." I stood, a little unsure what to do.
"Look. First thing I would do is get warm. You're shivering. Get over here by the stove. I stoked it when I came in from the cattle and it'll help. But I'd get those shoes off first. Looks like you really took a tumble."
Sitting on the bench I began unlacing my hiking boots. "Yeah, I landed in a stream. By the way, my name's Jeff Brooks."
"Travis Reilly here. Tell you what. Get that jacket and stuff off. I can hang it on the line here over the stove."
"Thanks, Travis." My teeth were chattering now. I peeled that wind breaker and the sweater off, pulled off my sodden sox.
"Jeff, you better get the rest of that off too and get dry. Here's a towel. Give yourself a rub and then wrap yourself in the blanket." Travis handed me a towel. I was a little unsure but figured he was right and took off my shirt and jeans and started rubbing down, trying to build a little heat. Realizing my shorts were soaked also, I shrugged them off also and wrapped myself up in the blanket. Weird sitting buff naked in a stranger's cabin, but Travis was right. I was feeling better.
"Looks like you banged that leg pretty well. We should clean that up." I looked down and he was right. I'd really scraped my right leg in the fall. And it was beginning to feel stiff. Travis went over to the sink, got a dish towel, poured some hot water from the kettle on the stove and sat down on the chair in front of me. "Let me see."
I stretched the leg out and watched as Travis carefully wiped away the blood and dirt. It stung a little when he grabbed a bottle of dish soap and used it to wash the area, but nothing like the iodine or whatever he used next. "Yow!"
"Sorry, Jeff. But better that than letting it get ugly. There. Now, just sit here and get warm. I'll make some coffee."
I watched as he set the coffee pot on the stove. Travis's build was clearly that of a guy who worked hard. Hands and face deeply tanned, hair looked to be self-cut. Smooth shaven. Muscular. Hard. I admired his back and shoulders as he turned to the sink.
"Glad I was here when you showed up. But the door's always unlocked so you could have come in anyway. I usually stoke the stove first when I come in, especially on a day like this." Travis chuckled. "As if most days aren't like this out here. I usually get warm and change my clothes first. You caught me in the middle." Travis had his shirt off already and now went over to a shelf by the bed, dropped his jeans and pulled on a pair of cut-off sweats. He kept his wool sox on. I noticed he dressed commando.&nbs p; Travis picked up a tee shirt and pulled it on before turning back to the stove. I hunched close to the wood burner and opened my blanket to get the direct warmth. Travis glanced over. "You feeling better?"
"Yeah, I really am. I just feel a little stupid."
"Jeff, anyone can get lost out here. It's a strange place, but I love it. I been working this spread for ten years now."
"You ever get away?' "Sure. Every couple of week's I get a hand to take over and head down to the city for a few days. It works for me."
"That's sort of me in reverse. Live in the city and get away by coming out here. "Works for me. City mouse, country mouse."
Travis looked over and grinned. "Here you go, city mouse," as he handed me the coffee. I took it cupped in both hands, the blanket hanging over my shoulders. It tasted good. Hot. Life was beginning to look better. Travis glanced at my filthy soaked clothes and said, "You know, that stuff is so muddy and wet. Why don't I rinse the mud off. It won't be dry tonight anyway." Without waiting for my response, he grabbed the stuff off the bench and started running water over it in the big sink, wringing each item and hanging them up on a line ov er the stove. I was a little embarrassed, having another guy doing my laundry. I mean, even my shorts. But all I could do was say thank you.
"Jeff, over on the shelf there, you can find something to wear now that you're dry. It may be a bit big for you but better than sitting butt naked all evening." Travis laughed. I got up folded the blanket and went over to find a pair of shorts like what he was wearing and a tee. "Grab some sox too. This floor can be cold."
So there we were, twinsies, in a snug cabin with the wood stove perking, in the fog. Seemed like old friends for some reason. Travis pulled a couple of steaks out of the fridge and tossed a salad. I found knives and forks and plates and set the table. When he pulled a bottle of Merlot out of a corner, I knew we were in business. I was surprised to see that he had a couple of really nice wine glasses. Travis was not leading an unnecessarily rough life.
Dinner was great. We did a little probing about each other. I asked what Travis did when he came down to San Francisco and got the surprise answer that he was a ballet buff. The guy was a complete nut for the dance. That was pretty amazing because so am I. So we had a long talk about productions from the past season. I said, "OH, hell, Travis. We've probably stood next to each other at the urinals in the Opera House."
Travis laughed. "Oh, I doubt it. I think I'd remember." I looked up startled and saw he was studying my reaction. I smiled. "Well, I suppose I should take that as a compliment." We both took a sip of wine.
Up until now, this has been a straight story. But with that interchange things shifted. We got a little quieter. Dinner over, I said, "Let me clean up, Travis. A good guest always volunteers." Travis didn't argue the point but pushed back in his armchair at the table and watched as I washed everything, scoured the frying pan even, dried it and put it all back where it had come from. When I turned back, I noticed that he was stretched out in his chair, his wine glass in his hand, and from the cut-off bottom of his left sweats leg I could see a little of the head of his penis hanging down. Not much, not hard, just a casual sighting.
"I don't know, Jeff. Maybe I should call you the little dogie. Straying out there in the big bad world."
"Yeah, me the dogie, you the cowboy." I laughed. The wine was affecting me. "I assume that was the latrine outside." "Yeah, go ahead." I went out, took a leak, admired the self-composting toilet, and came back in. Travis had gotten up, tossed another chunk of wood in the stove. More to the point, he had taken off his shirt and shorts now.
"Cowboys hit the rack early. As for you, little dogie, it's either share the bed or sleep on the floor. My hospitality doesn't extend to putting the host of the floor."
"Hey, what the heck. I'll share if you're offering. You've been great to take me in like this."
Thanks, Jeff, but I'm figuring you'll be taking ME in next." Travis stepped over to me and stroked my cheek. Before I could react he was past me and out the door.
I sat down and the bed and pulled Travis' shirt over my head, shucked his shorts and then went over where I saw he had hung his shorts on a hook and put my nose to them. I could smell the scent of man. I heard the door open and close behind me. Travis was close behind me and I felt his hand trace down my spine almost to my crotch. Then both hands were stroking my hips and I felt him press his body against me. His penis was rock hard against my butt. I felt like the fog was closing again.
Travis stepped back and switched off the light over the table, leaving us with just the glow through the wood stove door. Travis was a white form in the darkness. He moved me down onto the bed on my back and hovered over me, soft whiteness hiding strength. I moved over so he could sit and he bent down, putting his lips of my left nipple. I gasped and arched. My nipples are incredibly sensitive. Travis murmured, "Nice response, dogie." "You can't imagine." I gasped again as he licked around the nipple and then bit it lightly. I felt his hand go to my right nipple and begin kneading i t. I reached up and covered his hand with mine, my other hand on his head. He tested worked them harder. My groaning made my response clear. A pause and his lips were on mine. I kept mine closed at first but Travis took care of that by pinching my right nipple hard again. As I gasped his tongue entered. Rough, darting. My lips closed on his tongue, sucking as his tongue circled around mine, probing, tongue fucking my mouth. My lips opened wide now so I could do him, our saliva mixing as we played the opening dance. Because this WAS a dance.
A change. The Cowboy pulled back and stood in the darkness. He looked bigger than life over me. My eyes had adjusted to the dim glow of light and I caught a rugged, almost grim look in his face. Below his sculpted white chest with its dark round nipples, this body was smooth to the molding of his pelvis and there below the navel the dark bush of pubic hair with his penis stiff out. He lowered himself again but this time covering me with his legs straddled above my head and his face over my penis. Yes. Without touching it he lowered his mouth over the glans and breathed heat. I could smell the sweat of his furred testicles over my nose and then his lips closed slowly on my penis. I heaved involuntarily and my penis slid into his mouth. At the same time I licked the shaft of his penis and traced the roundness of a testicle. One, then the other. Now he shifted and his penis was at my lips. I took it, and so we danced. In unison, each consuming the other's hardened penis, exploring with our tongues, tracking the veins and the filled duct, following the line of the glans ridge, and taking penis deep in our mouths, a unity and concentration.
With my hands I gripped Travis' hips, cupped his butt, frantic to know his body. As Travis took my penis deep in his throat his hand moved down past my testicles, past my scrotum to that lowest spot where everything converges and he found my sphincter with his finger. My legs spread.
Again it changes. He is turning now, still sucking on my shaft but his finger is repeating what the tongue taught it, entering past my sphincter into my rectum, in and out again. I moan. "Go, Cowboy."
I am rolled on my left side. My right leg forward and bent slightly. Travis is behind me. Two fingers now probing, relaxing my sphincter, searching me. I feel him lower himself behind me, his left leg outside mine, his right leg between mine, pushing my right leg higher. His left arm comes under my rib cage as his right hand guides his penis into my crotch, to my ready sphincter. And then, wet with my spit, Travis' cock slides smoothly into me, his head popping past the sphincter and slipping in one long motion deeper, deeper, until I can feel the his pelvis firmly pressed against my ass, his cock totally buried in my ass. Ton gue, finger, penis.
There is no pain. It begins gently. His right hand takes my right nipple and works it slowly as he slides back and forth in me, almost out, then going deeply again. I groan with the pleasure, pushing back on him as he presses in, wanting this man's cock to make me whole. "Yeah, Travis, make me real. Fill me up." Travis growled, "Dogie, you are so fucked."
And it changes. A growl and he begins plunging faster. The right hand goes down and grips my cock roughly beginning to jack me. "I can take it. Do it rough." The hand grips my cock brutally. I gasp and the Cowboy jams deep into me, hitting the sweet spot but slamming now. I buck under the weight, my hands gripping the bed, we are in an empty world, in a fog and we roar at each other. Yes, fucker, hurt me deep. Breed this calf. Butt fuck your ass, dogie. Fill your body with my juice. Twisting, pounding. Screaming. YESSSSSSSSSS.
I feel Travis give a great heave, another and another. His grunting roar in my ear. His hands at the moment gripping my shoulders hard, fingers pressing and as he ejaculates into my body, his teeth on my shoulder bite, and I shoot onto the sheet, weeping and shooting.
It's quiet now. Travis has pulled out, gone to the sink and washed off. He's back in bed. I haven't moved. He slides beside me, spoonways, curving against my body, pulling the blanket over us, and we sleep.
It's morning. The bed is empty beside me. Travis is not there. I sit up. I have been truly fucked and the warmth is in me. For a minute. It's cold. I get up, check my clothes and find they are dry. After dressing, I go out to the latrine, come back in and make some coffee. In the fridge I find some bacon and eggs. Some sourdough bread. As I'm pulling things together, Travis walks through the door.
"Hey, Dogie." "Hey, Travis. You in there?" "You bet, never felt better in my life. Sorry I didn't wake you up. I get up early to take care of the cattle."
I pour two mugs of coffee. "Now problem. Now let me say something. Travis, you are one awesome fucker. And on top of that, you're a hell of a nice guy. Have some coffee."
We grin at each other and get on with breakfast. After breakfast, Travis says, "I've got to head down to the village and I think we should find your car. But before we do, let me check something. Take your shirt off." Turning me around, he says, "Yeah, thought I remembered that. I seem to have branded you, Dogie." I glance over my back in a mirror. There it is. An enormous hickey. And on either shoulder five bruises. "Shit, Travis, now I can't go to the gym until that's gone. How do you explain the positioning of those marks to a straight guy in the showers?"
Travis laughed, "Sorry about that but I've never gotten off like that in my life. That was another world last night. Maybe you can find a gay gym in Frisco?" I burst out laughing. "Now THAT is no problem."
We go out and hop in his jeep, following the rutted road for a couple of miles to the main road. We find my car about a mile further down. We sit in the jeep for a few minutes.
"So, you expecting to get down the San Francisco soon?"
"I was thinking the end of the month. I've got tickets for Coppelia. Wanta join me?"
"Sure. And plan to bunk in with ME this time, Cowboy. And you can take ME in."
Travis laughed, "You're on, Jeff." We kiss and I wave as Travis drives off. The sun is shining and the fog has lifted.