“Never marry but for love but see that thou lovest what is lovely.”
Friday morning dawned bright, a clear blue, cloudless sky adorned the eastern horizon with its simplicity and beauty and I awoke appreciating the similar beauty before me, snuggled up against me, his warm, smooth, naked body resting half on me and the other half on our bed. Allowing my gaze to drift from his almost beatific face, relaxed in deep, peaceful slumber, to his hairless, well-formed chest, to his waist, slim, smooth except for a small treasure trail originating at his tucked in naval, leading to his lower abdomen when it merged with a small forest of pubic adornment, partially shielded by his tumescent penis, full of the “morning wood” males experience, supported by egg-shaped, walnut sized gonads capable of producing his generous offerings on stimulation; down his thigh, muscular, but not fat or thin to smaller calves and feet. I couldn’t help but sigh in satisfaction and love for this incredible man come into my life.
Stony stirred, thrusting his waist, crotch, and hardness up against me a couple of times and, although not yet awake, smiled softly in pleasure, apparently secure, feeling his closeness to me. My arms encircled his body, cradling his head against my breast, comforting him and me in our mutual embrace. The day ahead of us was to be a busy one indeed; the wedding rehearsal dinner was this evening and, since we weren’t planning on returning to the Island after leaving this afternoon until Sunday morning, we’d have to provide the animals with enough feed and water to last them. Stony and I’d be staying at Mom’s while she and Jim honey-mooned Saturday night somewhere else.
Stony finally began stirring, slowly waking, nuzzling my right breast affectionately, passionately, while stretching his frame the length of mine. Opening his eyes, seeing me smiling at him, he wiggled himself as closely to me as he could, pushed his hard cock up against mine as he draped his warm nakedness over me, until we lay bare cock to bare cock, each twitching with anticipation and secreting those beginnings of our forthcoming passion. He began frotting me, thrusting between my thighs, sliding in and out, massaging my balls in the process, and laying atop my throbbing member, used his abdomen, soft, warm, and sensual, to masturbate me to orgasm the same time he came between my legs! We lay there, his cum slipping off of the inner sides of my thighs and my own offering coating his and my stomach, resting in our bliss.
Unwilling to break the embrace or chase away the moment, I still felt I had to get us ready for the day, so I sighed, “Guess we’d better get busy and get everything ready for leaving.”
Stony nodded his agreement and, almost as an afterthought to my pronouncement, asked, “J.T., do you mind if I don’t start on wiring the house for electricity until next week?”
Of course, I didn’t mind. In the course of a month or so he’d accomplished so much around home. We had hot and cold running water to the house and water to the animals and a combination shower/tub in the house. No longer would I have to heat water on the stove to bathe, wash dishes in, or to soak my sore, aching bones and muscles in after a hard day’s labor or extremely nasty weather or go outside to shit. When I mentioned all of this to Stony, in response to his question, he looked at me quizzically, responding back, “If you get a headache, are you going to soak your head?”
Laughing, all I could do was think how good it felt to have him here. It was as if I was reborn, ready to begin life anew, not unlike Jim and Mom. Life was beginning to get damned good again and I loved it!
Stony and I arrived at Mom’s around one o’clock in the afternoon, carried our overnight bags and my dress clothes to the bedroom before we took off for a clothing store to buy a suit, tie, and dress shirt for Stony. We found a nice, blue suit with a faint plaid pattern in it on the rack (jacket – size 38; pants –waist 28, length 30) which appeared might fit him. I accompanied him into the fitting room, helped him change into the pants and coat, and after cupping his crotch through the suit pants declared them a perfect fit. He removed the coat and pants and, before he could put on his jeans, I reached down, fished out his growing chubby, and sucked it into my waiting mouth. Bobbing up and down on that beautiful instrument, lapping around the skin covered crown with my tongue, brought him to full erection, poking part of the head and all of the piss slit free from the skin which normally shielded it, and within a couple of minutes, he began twitching and jerking, firing his load down deep into my throat, as I took all he had to offer! Once he dribbled to a stop, I licked him clean and tucked that object of affection of his back into his shorts.
Upon exiting the booth, he asked simply, “Do we have time to try on a dozen more?”
I’m afraid we didn’t have the same experience when we went to the shoe store to try on shoes, but I think he was hopeful. Driving back to Mom’s, Stony was quiet, until he broke his silence with, “I really think you should’ve let me pay for all of this. After all, I’m the one wearing it.” He paused, looked out the window of the truck and said softly, “I guess I’m getting pretty expensive to keep around, aren’t I?”
I quickly pulled to the curb, unbuckled my seat belt, and slid next to him, our bodies in close contact, at least as close as I could get in the cab of a pickup truck, and using my left hand, placing it lightly under his chin, slowly turned his face toward me, revealing eyes moistening with tears, lips quivering in sadness, but the most lovely I’d ever encountered.
“Stony,” I said softly, “I owe you more than I can ever repay; you’ve more than carried your share of the work; you’ve done what I was unable or unwilling to do.”
“All I did was put some plumbing and stuff in. You could’ve hired someone to do that for you.”
I shook my head at his protestations, pulled his face to mine and kissed him, long and deep. Releasing him, I replied, “No, Stony, not that; you’ve taught me how to love again; to love a gorgeous, sensitive man when I thought I could never or want to love again. I fell in love with you and that sure as hell beats ‘putting in some plumbing and stuff!’”
This time he kissed me back, signaling as if I’d given him the world, adding, “You can stuff my pipes with your plumbing anytime you want. I’m ready and eager for that experience.”
I thought about his comment, quite seriously in fact, as we dressed in casual wear for the rehearsal and the dinner following. I guess I was just seeking the right time and place to offer myself to him and be the perpetrator of the sacrifice of his anal virginity. I wasn’t too certain how he’d take either offer, although his comments indicated he was more than willing and ready. As we drove to the little church where the wedding was to take place the next day, Stony asked tentatively, “Are you certain it’ll be o.k. that I’m there too? I’ m not family, you know, really!”
“Really – you are! The old Biblical saying ‘Whither thou goest….’ applies here quite well. Where I am, you are, so they better get used to us being a couple and together,” I fired back and pulled the truck into the parking lot. Rolling to a stop in a parking place and, as fast as my game leg would allow, I scooted around the front of the truck, opened Stony’s door, offered him my hand and asked, “Earl Henry Jackson, may I have the honor of your presence this weekend and the rest of my life?”
Stony blushed, but responded, “John Thomas Gifford, I’d be honored and will do so willing; until eternity ceases to exist.” I smiled his acknowledgement and pledge, and we walked, hand in hand, up the sidewalk and into the church where Mom, Jim, the pastor and the rest of the wedding party waited.
Mom’s older sister, Mildred, and her husband, August, eyed us somewhat spuriously, as we entered, obviously not entirely pleased by the sight of two men holding hands in something other than a handshake; if they only knew what these hands had held just a short time before! She and her husband tended to lean toward the conservative side of life, so to speak, so I started the introductions with the pastor.
“Pastor Martin,” I began, “this is my partner, Stony Jackson.”
Pastor Martin extended his hand to meet Stony’s and began replying, “Were you named after …..”
Stony interrupted with a laugh, “Not even close, so let’s not go there.”
Pastor Martin grinned back, enjoying the response, and gave Stony a friendly pat on the back. I turned to Aunt Mildred and Uncle Auggie, and as Stony extended his hand to them, introduced him; “Aunt Millie and Uncle Auggie, this is my partner, Stony Jackson.” Uncle Auggie accepted his hand, Aunt Millie acknowledged his smile to her with a nod, but Stony, not to be deterred, asked, “and your last name is?”
“McBride,” replied Uncle Auggie and said no more.
The other man and woman I didn’t recognize, but I assumed they were Jim’s oldest son and his wife. His son was going to serve as best man and, although Jim had taught in our town for a number of years, I didn’t know his older children since they were older and moved through the school system ahead of me. Jim quickly stepped forward saying, “J.T. and Stony, this is my oldest son William and his wife Anna.”
As we shook hands and exchanged greetings, Bill, as he preferred to be called, said, “You’ll meet the rest of our mob tomorrow. Their Uncle Carter is trying to ride herd on them this evening. The older children probably don’t need any chaperoning and could easily take care of the younger ones, but they all love to be with their uncle and when he volunteered to watch them and feed them pizza, well, we just had to agree. My sister and husband and their three children will be here tomorrow also.”
Continuing, quizzing me, he asked, “J.T., you must remember Carter, although he was a couple of years younger than you?”
“No,” I replied, shaking my head, “our class was large and there were about fifteen hundred kids in high school, but I don’t remember a Carter Anderson.”
Jim quickly intervened, “His real name is Mark, but we always called him Carter. He was such a little bit of a peanut when he was younger, I told him one time he must’ve come from President Carter’s peanut farm in Georgia and it stuck.”
I remembered him then; he was a sophomore when I was a senior and a cute little fucker, bright as hell, and a voice like an angel. He sang in the school musical and choir, but beyond that I could remember little else. Cameron and I were so much in love, all else seemed only the condiments to our romance!
The dinner after the rehearsal was at a nice restaurant at the north end of town and we ordered from the menu. Although it was tradition the groom’s family or groom picked up the tab for the meal, I insisted I’d pay for it and placed it on my credit card. When Jim really began objecting, I relented, somewhat, and had him pick up the costs of the drinks and the tip. That seemed to satisfy him. We had a good time, laughing and joking, telling stories and getting acquainted. Aunt Millie and Uncle August even loosened up a bit. I think she was pleased her sister was remarrying and apparently approved of her choice in men; mine, however, there seemed to some reluctance for approval and definitely she didn’t favor our life style! She frowned at me while Stony and I was speaking to each other and smiling as only lovers can, so I just looked her in the eye and smiled my biggest, shit-eating grin I could muster at her. “Fuck-em,” I thought, “he’s my life and love, so get used to it!”
Later that night, after dinner and in bed at Mom’s, trying to recover from the pleasure we just brought to each other and before we drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms, Stony asked, “Will your cousin, the cop, be at the wedding tomorrow?”
“No,” I answered softly, “Aaron is my Dad’s older brother’s son. Mom didn’t invite Uncle Rod or his wife, Aunt Emma or Dad’s sister, Aunt Lucille and Uncle Steve either. In fact, she didn’t invite any of the Gifford side, including Grandpa Gifford.
“I think she thought it may make them feel uncomfortable, seeing her marry someone else after all of these years. I tried to explain to her it wouldn’t make any difference, but to her, it would, so I refrained from pushing the issue. Is there any reason why you’re asking?”
“Not really; I just thought it’d be nice to meet all of your family.”
“And?” I questioned knowing full well there had to be more than just that as a reason; Stony had something else on his mind.
“I thought,” he said somewhat pensively, “if possible, I could sort of visit with your Cousin Aaron about Ray’s death and all; you know, kind of beat around the bush without revealing what I was really concerned about. Besides, I also wondered if any other family members were as homophobic as your Aunt Millie and Uncle Auggie.”
I snuggled him closer to me, hugging him tightly to my breast, laughing as I answered, “I’m really not certain, but this is the first time in over ten years they’ve seen me with someone other than Cameron and definitely the first time ever, I’ve shown up with such a handsome guy in tow and pretty much declaring he and I are an item, a couple, lovers, or partner so I expect a few eyebrows raised tomorrow or in the future when we meet the Gifford’s, but so what?”
“How about this son of Jim’s, Mark or Carter, whatever his name is? What’s he like?”
Stony seemed to be filled with trepidation, fearful of what I don’t know, so I asked just that. “What is it you’re worried about Stony; this is unlike you.”
Stony sighed a deep sigh, “It’s not that I’m worried for me, but I’m more concerned with how they might treat you once they finally realize we’re gay and lovers. I wouldn’t want to spoil the relationship you’ve had with your family all of these years and fuck things up for you!”
So that was it; he was concerned about me, not him, but me. “Not to worry, my love; there’s nothing that’ll come between the two of us, family or not. If anyone in the family, either side has a problem, such as Aunt Millie and Uncle Auggie do, then they’ll have to live with it. You and I have our life to live. They’re welcome to share in it or reject it, that’s their choice,” and leaned over and kissed him, giving him what reassurance I could.
“Now, to answer your question about Mark or Carter as the family seems to know him. He’s about your size, not as fit or strong I think, and a very quiet, non-assuming, wimpy type in high school I thought. He certainly wasn’t an aggressive individual as I recall. Frankly, I don’t know if I’d recognize him after all of these years. I really didn’t hang out with him. Cameron and I had each other and the devil take the rest! I was in the hospital recovering from my wounds and Cameron’s death when Carter graduated from high school. I think he went off to college, but I don’t know what he does for a living or where he lives. It was just one of those situations I really wasn’t interested in pursuing.”
Satisfied, he draped his right leg over mine, settled himself in his usual “going to sleep” position, kissed me goodnight, and comfortably resting his now flaccid cock up against mine, wiggled a bit to make himself more comfortable, and resting his head on my shoulder, dozed off to sleep.
We arrived at the church in plenty of time before the ceremony. I wanted to make certain the flowers were there and placed in the right places. I had the ring Mom was going to give Jim in my pocket (Stony asked a dozen times that morning if I had it and each time he did, I reached in my pocket to check), so once, assured all was ready, I escorted Stony to the front pew, where I’d join him after giving the bride away. I waited patiently in a small anteroom until Mom joined me and family members gathered in the congregation seats.
The music, when I escorted Mom down the aisle to the alter where the Pastor, Jim, William, and Aunt Millie waited, was provided by one of the ladies she worked with at the elementary school. Once I handed her over to Jim, I joined Stony in the front pew while Jim and Mom repeated their vows. To say I wasn’t saddened by the event would be a misstatement; on the other hand, I was happy for her since she’d be starting a new life with Jim, not unlike what I was doing with Stony. Any other sadness I might’ve felt was overwhelmed by the love I had for Stony and his love for me. I could see it every time he looked at me; coming down the aisle, returning to the pew, and each time he glanced at me during the ceremony.
After the vows were said and the Pastor gave his blessing, a male voice from the choir loft began singing, a most beautiful voice, clear, well-pitched, and accompanied by an acoustical guitar. Two songs were performed; one chosen by Jim and one by Mom, and each a love theme, expressing the eternalness of love, affection, and time a couple spends together. I turned to see who the artist was, but for the life of me, I didn’t recognize him. He was barely visible, sitting on a chair, features obscured by the balcony railing.
Leaning over to Stony, I whispered, “I’ll bet that’s Mark Anderson doing the vocal. I don’t see him anywhere with the rest of his family.” Nodding his agreement, looking at me, his eyes moistening over, not unlike the morning dew adorning the delicate petals of blooming meadow flowers offering their beauty for your personal pleasure and succor, I couldn’t help but realize how attached we’d become to each other in such a short time.
The ceremony ended and the entourage traveled to the reception at the motel banquet hall I’d rented for the occasion. Stony acted as host with me, but ended up greeting and seating everyone while I hustled about tending to the meal service and buffet table, ascertaining what I requested of the caterer was indeed being served and served hot. Any table bussers, table service, and other accoutrements were provided by the motel. Everything seemed satisfactory so I assured the motel management and the caterer I’d make final settlement of the accounts (including tips) when the reception was over. Stony had everyone seated by the time I rejoined him, making certain that Mom and Jim were the only ones seated at the head table.
The pastor offered the blessing; Mom and Jim went through the line first, followed by those parents with little ones, and finally the rest of the guests. Stony and I waited until everyone made one trip through the buffet before filling our plates. Passing through the line, Stony leaned his head back against my chest, saying softly, “You know that singer, who you thought might be Mark/Carter Anderson? You were right, it was.”
Starting to look around, a quick sweep of the room revealed no one that I thought might be what I remembered from high school. Stony placed a free hand on my arm, saying, “Don’t strain yourself ‘Love’. The scrawny, wimpy, little shit you’re looking for exists no more. Carter Anderson is the man in the dark suit seated with Bill Anderson and his family, chatting with whom I assume is Bill’s oldest son, Louis and the second youngest Kenneth.”
I looked closely at the man Stony referred to, but I could see no resemblance to the Mark Anderson I remembered, at least at first. The blond haired, handsome man with a pleasant smile and well developed shoulders and chest, was the complete opposite of what I remember, but he still carried a familiar appearance. When he stood and greeted another lady and gentleman, I noticed he was about five foot ten or so and weighed about one hundred and eighty pounds. Although not overly developed, he still was fit and trim, in excellent physical condition, with a bearing about him that commanded authority.
“That’s his sister Maureen and her husband, Tatum,” Stony informed me. “They have three children; Reed, Mary, and Juliana. They’re just now going through the buffet.”
“My, my, aren’t you just the font of knowledge,” I joked.
“He’s not that wimpy little boy you remembered from high school, is he?”
I waggled my head from side to side, agreeing with Stony’s appraisal.
Stony continued, “Not only is that stud good looking, but I’ll bet he hangs four to six inches soft by the looks of that tube slithering down his right leg, offering a weapon that’d make a strong man shudder at the sight, along with the gold badge and big fucking gun strapped to his hip!”
Thank you for reading “Gif’s Island – Chapter Ten-–––“Never marry but for love but see that thou lovest what is lovely.” – (Penn)
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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