"Summer afternoon, summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language." –(Henry James as quoted by Edith Wharton)
Two weeks after Pat and Tom's visit, six cords of dry, cut, and split firewood was delivered and unloaded near the front gate up on the ridge. The logger dropped the load in an open spot near the "upper" garage. Wedge and I surveyed the large pile of wood and all Wedge could do was shake his head.
"That's a shit pot full of wood!" he stated and asked, "If the logger says there's six cord in that stack, how do we know what a cord is?"
"A cord," I explained, "is ordinarily a stack of split wood eight feet long, four feet high, and four feet wide. In most cases however, the logger sells the wood to the paper mills by weight and the same to fire wood customers. For example, each species of wood has a different weight; a cord of poplar weighs different than a cord of oak or maple. The poplar, a soft wood, weighs less than oak or maple, hard woods. This load is a mostly oak, but some maple. I would bet, knowing the logger, we probably got more than the six cords we ordered, maybe closer to seven."
"Uncle said he thought the logger was generous since he was the same logger that select cut the poplar from part of the Lodge property several years ago. Besides, Grandpa Hunter does some legal work for him every now and then."
We were going to have our work cut out for us, transporting and stacking the wood near the outdoor furnace at the Lodge. It has to be loaded into the two wheel trailer once it's attached to the ATV, hauled down the sloping lane, unloaded and stacked between two metal fence posts driven into the ground about sixteen feet apart. Those fence posts had to be driven in the ground before we could begin hauling, so we tackled that project first. We prepared ten rows to hold the wood. If that wasn't enough, we could add another row or two, but I hoped the ten would hold all of the wood since we would stack wood five feet high in each row. The rows were positioned two feet apart to allow the air to circulate and provide optimum drying conditions.
The hot, July days, working in the sunshine, brought on sweat, the need for water, and an occasional rest, but the rests were not always "rests." As we worked and the sweat dripped down our bodies, soaking our jeans, Wedge would begin to bone up! With his cock the size it was, it didn't take a genius to realize what was snaking down his pant leg was soon going to go up my tunnel of love. Sure enough, it wouldn't be long, when he'd ask, "How about a rest or something?" I'd just grin, nod my willingness, drop my pants, bend over, and zippity-do-da, up the magic highway he'd drive, maneuvering his V-8 machine in and out of the curves, tight corners and confines, until finally parking, buried as deep as his crotch and balls would allow, into my parking place, and unload his cargo! If it was a really hot afternoon, he'd head for the parking ramp more than once. Man, his cargo hauler held a load, and he was always ready to deliver it! Of course, I didn't object any! On days we were hampered in our outside activities by rain, we were not similarly hampered by our indoor ones.
Not all of those rainy days were spent in coital bliss, we did spend some time visiting Uncle and Lou or working inside the house. It also gave us the opportunity to prepare shopping lists for my trips to Willow Run for groceries or other items. There was little need to go into Thompson Corners except for milk or incidentals. Wedge stayed at the Lodge while I was gone; we both felt, and Uncle George agreed, it was still best if he was seen only with either George or Lou since he was supposed to be their nephew.
At times, it seemed to us summer would never end; our lives were filled with the warmth of each other during the rainy days and the glow of the sun on those bright, blue sky days. It wasn't all work; there was plenty opportunity to fish (which Wedge loved to do), swim naked in the lake or take a quick, cold dip in the Osage running behind the Lodge, walk the logging roads catching sight of an occasional bear, fox, coyote, rabbit, or squirrel. A couple of times we saw mink and once a pine martin, a rarity indeed! We'd also load up a lunch, mount the ATV, and visit some of the smaller lakes tucked away back in the state and national forest. Since he now had a phone that was relatively secure, Wedge could talk (and did) to his mom a couple of times per week. He was so happy when he did and I was happy for him!
The specter of Pittman finding Wedge or Harvey tracking me down kept us on our guard! Pat and Tom's warning was not going unheeded and we were being ever so careful. Personally, I didn't think Pittman would ever catch on where Wedge was secreted away and I figured Harvey didn't have enough energy or smarts to figure out where I was. Wedge, however, thought differently and would remind me every now and again, "just to be safe."
One warm night, windows open to catch any little breeze to waft away our warmth, mosquitoes humming, buzzing at the screen covering the opening, I woke up around midnight to the sounds of – a coyote? No, I thought, it was different; the sounds of yelping, howling, yipping was the sounds of a pack of wolves, either celebrating a kill or welcoming each other home at the den or just a gathering of the pack at some location in preparation for a hunt.
It was a happy sound, yet mournful; a longing, a greeting, a wild uninhibited cry into the night air of the forested landscape!
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Wedge said quietly as he gently eased my back up against his chest and my butt to his crotch.
"How long have you been awake?" I asked as I snuggled into my lover's arms and body. I hadn't realized he was awake!
"About ten minutes," he replied. "I first heard the wolves and then spent the time just looking at you and telling myself how lucky I am!"
Twisting my body to face him, making certain his arms stayed around me, I wrapped my arms around him as well, so our naked bodies came into contact, our soft, yet quite hard cocks in delicious contact. I know he was not the only one in that bed who felt he was the lucky one. Our summer together was awesome; full of fun, activity, love, and life together in the comfort and relative safety and solitude of Hunter's Lodge.
My grandparents would be finishing their cruise soon and would head up this way for a visit as soon as they were re-settled at home and recovered from the aftermath of jet lag and cruise activities. Knowing them, within three or four days after touching down at Austin-Strabel Airport in Green Bay, they'd be on their way up here, anxious to check on Wedge and me.
Scooting my body up Wedge's until the head of my dick nudged his naval and his manly pole poked me in the balls, I was in the right position (experience is a great teacher) to gently ease his head forward until my lips engaged his; oh so sweet, so soft, and so sensual! Soft puffs of air escaped through his nostrils as he breathed in and out, signaling his delight and anticipation, lightly caressing my cheeks as my tongue delicately slipped between those delicate, moist lips of his, brushing his teeth as he opened to receive me, engaging his tongue in loving contact!
Reciprocating, accepting me and pressing his lips forward in a lover's kiss, I felt his penis begin to twitch, a soft drop of essence contacting my testicles, not only signaling his desire, but his intense love for me! After a few moments, I disengaged, released my hold on him, slithered down until my wet lips and flicking tongue made contact with his leaking, throbbing, pulsing cock-head! Lifting his elegance with one hand, holding it lovingly, I slipped my tongue under his smooth, soft foreskin, moved it around the crown now revealed, engorged and warm, as my lips pushed his hoody below the crown where it tightened as his cock swelled and throbbed, I began a slow bobbing, milking suck on that delicious instrument. I loved the taste of Wedge's cock, the pre-cum he dripped before cumming, and finally his sweet, thick, rich, cream-like semen when he ejaculated!
Not wanting him to climax too soon, since I had a different place other than my mouth intended for his corpulent, thick offering, I released the head and licked my way down the underside of his shaft until my lips encountered his large sperm factories, now resting nestled in his low hanging sack. Sucking one into my mouth, rolling it about as best I could; releasing it and taking the other one doing the same, Wedge softly moaned his pleasure and caressed my head in encouragement, and began whispering how much he loved me. I nuzzled my nose around his sack, underneath to his perineum, savoring the familiar and welcome, unique, but tantalizing aroma emanating from there, penetrating my olfactory nerves and increasing my desire for him!
Although we'd just joined in our love for each other just hours before, I wanted – no, I needed him again! Pulling myself free, I rolled to my back, spread my legs, raised my knees, and invited him in. Wedge grinned, reached over to our bedside, grabbed the lube, and slicked up his cock and my entrance. Even though he'd been in there before and although I should be accustomed to his penetration, he was still of sufficient length and girth we did need some lube of some sort to ease his entrance and seat him deeply so he could begin to pleasure us both and bring us to climax. God, he was perfect at this and I loved it!
Wedge began a slow, loving, sensuous fuck as only he can do to me! Each time he pushed in, his cock-head brushed my prostate, firing an electric charge to my own throbbing penis, rocketing through my balls to the very tip and back again. In time, I felt his shaft begin to swell, the head of his pleasure pole soon followed, ballooning, and then, feeling each spurt move up the tube on the underside of his instrument of pleasure, my bowels began flooding with his abundant man-juice! It often felt, when he ejaculated into me, as though he was spewing quarts of thick, white, creamy liquid, but even though he squirted in copious amounts and it often ran out of my butt when he finished, in reality it wasn't in that amounts; it was a bunch, however!
Three days later, just after breakfast, my cell phone rang and Grandpa Hunter, after a warm greeting, informed me he and Grandma would be up the next day probably around mid-afternoon.
"Don't go to any trouble," he said, "we'll pick up groceries on the way so you boys don't have to fuss with meals."
I assured him, although he may think otherwise, we were well equipped to feed Grandma and him so not to worry about that. Our freezer and pantry was full and with Wedge's skills in the kitchen (something I purposely neglected to inform Grandpa about) there'd be filling and delicious meals for all.
"Well, if you say so," he answered skeptically, leaving me with the impression he wasn't entirely convinced a couple of teenage boys, fresh out of high school, could have anything to eat other than cold cereal and hot dogs with macaroni and cheese. When I told Wedge about Grandpa's concerns, he just grinned.
We spent the rest of the day cleaning and getting ready for company. Really, there wasn't that much to do since, strange as it may seem, the house was pretty clean and everything in its place. Wedge was just as much a "neatnik" as me, so all we had to do was make up the bed in one of the spare bedrooms, do some light dusting, and quick run around with the vacuum cleaner.
They said they planned to stay for several days so Wedge, uncertain what "several days" meant, began planning meals for a week. If we needed anything not already on the shelves or in the freezer I had time to run to either Thompson Corners or Willow Run to make the purchase. He decided we had everything we needed although we might have to make a run to Thompson Corners for milk or cream for our coffee and tea.
I wanted to make room in the garage near the Lodge for Grandpa's SUV, assuming that was what he would be driving, so while I moved my truck to the upper garage near the drive entrance, Wedge took the ATV and scooted over to Uncle George and Aunt Lou's to let them know we'd be having company. Grandma seldom came to the Lodge, so Lou was pleased to have the opportunity to visit with her. Knowing the two of them, they'd discuss the two of us and Grandma would admonish Lou to "keep her eyes on us" and George to "make certain those boys are safe." George and Lou would assure her all would be well and she'd be happy!
Wedge spent the evening finishing his menu for the upcoming week. He decided, as a welcoming dinner the next evening, we'd have pork roast (I picked up some pork shoulders on sale a couple of weeks prior to this and stuck them in the freezer), with roasted garlic vegetables and buttered just before serving, home-made dinner rolls, a fruit salad served on a couple of Romaine lettuce leaves (courtesy of Aunt Lou), and a cherry tort for dessert. Plenty, I thought and certain to please Grandma Hunter.
The next morning, just as we were finishing our breakfast dishes, we heard the sounds of a large truck ascending the sloping drive to the Lodge. We looked out and saw the LP gas truck rolling down the hill. Once stopped, the driver informed us he thought it'd be better to "top off" the tanks now rather than later since the price was cheaper now and, once the rainy season began in the fall, it could make it more difficult to maneuver the loaded gas truck down the hill to the Lodge.
Once he left, George and Lou came down in George's truck to see if we needed anything from Willow Run. Wedge thought we could use some more yeast, cottage cheese, mozzarella cheese, and parmesan cheese. He wanted to make a baked lasagna type dish and needed the cheeses. He thought he had enough yeast but was planning on baking bread and wanted to make certain. Wedge always planned ahead and I loved him for it. With him around, we'd never run out of the staples. He could fix a meal from almost anything. I gave Lou some money for the items and decided, next time I was in Willow Run, I needed to visit an ATM for some cash.
By that time it was lunch and again, just as we finished the dishes, we heard a vehicle coming down the lane. It was too soon for Uncle George and Aunt Lou to be coming back, so we assumed it was Grandpa and Grandma Hunter. We stepped out on the porch to greet them as Grandpa brought the SUV to a stop in front of the Lodge.
Wedge slipped his arm around me, pulled me tight to his body, and, when I looked up, I could see a very, very worried look on his face.
"Hey, what's wrong?" I asked concerned for him.
In an almost dry, squeaky, shaky voice, he answered, "What do you think they're going to say when they see their grandson has a black boyfriend?"
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