I didn't want to talk about Travis Logan because, well, we had a bit of history - history that my father had no knowledge of. Travis had been several years ahead of me in high school, so I wasn't really aware of him until he came to work for my father as a part-time deputy during my final summer in Tomahawk Springs. My father was quite taken with him, and we had weeks of stories about his enthusiastic work ethic, his solid sense of right and wrong, and good-natured way he took teasing from the other deputies, before my father brought him home for dinner.

I spent the entire meal barely able to breathe, sneaking peaks at Travis. He was tall, around six foot three, his eyes a deep sapphire blue, his hair trimmed into a regulation crew cut but still managing to be sun-kissed blonde. His chin was severely square with an almost undetectable dimple in the middle.

I imagine the reason I became so obsessed with him, other than the fact that he looked something like a Greek god come to call, was that he was nice to me. He was interested in the education I was planning, he made me bring out my high school portfolio to show him the projects that had gotten me into art school, and he asked my opinion about everything from politics to law enforcement.

That summer, I spent a lot of time driving my dad's truck around trying to find where Travis was hanging out. Now we would call this stalking, but then it was what you did when you had a crush. Travis spent time at The Whistle Stop, a bar located in a strip mall in downtown Skyler, but I couldn't get in. Not only was I too young to drink, but I was also the sheriff's son so they weren't even willing to serve me cokes.

That made his lunch breaks the only real possibility for casually running into him. My parents always left the police scanner on. One day I heard Travis tell the dispatcher he was taking lunch and I'd practically bolted out the door. Out on Farm to Market Road there's a pizza place that was quite popular then. That day, I managed to get there just in time.

The sheriff's cruiser was still in the parking lot. Sitting down in a booth, I pretended to study the menu, while actually peeking across the room at Travis, where he sat in his crisp deputy's uniform with an empty pizza pan in front of him.

When the waitress came over, I ordered a coke and a meatball sandwich - even though I'd just eaten. As he got up to leave, Travis noticed me sitting on the other side of the restaurant. He wandered over. 'Hey, how's it going?'

'Fancy meeting you here,' I said, trying to be suave, I guess.

'You're going off to school soon, aren't you?' he asked.

'Two more weeks. We should get together for lunch or something... you know before I go.' Lunch would be fine, but I was more interested in the something.

'Yeah, we should.'

'How about Thursday,' I suggested, already knowing it was his day off. My dad posted the schedule on our refrigerator.

'Thursday's cool,' he gave me a cock-eyed look and added 'See you then.'

Now I just had to figure out what to do with myself for two days. Well, that's not exactly true. I knew what I was going to do for two days. Obsess. After planning the lunch sixteen different ways, I finally settled on a picnic out on Finley Pond.

Finley Pond was about as big as a body of water can be and still be called a pond. It was about a half-mile wide in one direction then bent around and went another half-mile at a ninety-degree angle. Only half of the pond was developed with homes built just a few feet from the beach, most with private docks. The undeveloped portion had been an estate more than a hundred years before and had been deeded to the state, added to the national park that zigged and zagged through most of Verne County. The Knapp estate, as it was called, had burned down many years before and the foundations for the main building, what was probably a carriage house, and a separate kitchen were overgrown with lush green vegetation.

As we walked the overgrown, crumbling road out to the Knapp estate, I wondered what I thought was doing. There was no reason to think that my fantasies about Travis might come true. That spring, right after my eighteenth birthday I'd gone by myself to Chicago to tour the Art Institute and decide if I wanted to go there. There had never been any question about whether I'd go, at least not in my mind, the trip had really just been a way to be on my own and learn a few things about sex. I managed to find a bookstore that sold dirty magazines, bought a few (only to throw them away before I flew home), managed to sneak into a bar, and even had a fumbling, but informative, one night-stand. None of which helped me figure out if Travis might really be interested in me, nor how to seduce him if he was. I had no business luring him out to the Knapp estate, but there I was. I'd done it.

When we got to the estate's relatively intact gazebo, which stood several hundred feet from the foundations, I dropped the knapsack I'd filled with junk-food, a bucket of KFC and a bottle wine I'd stolen from my parent's liquor cabinet.

'Have you been here before?' I asked him, trying not to look too closely at him. He was wearing a pair of cut-off jeans that ended high up on his thigh and a tie-dyed wife-beater. One arm was very tan from his hanging out the window of the sheriff's cruiser, and he obviously didn't wear the wife-beater often, as his shoulders were creamy white caps above his dark arms. I was wearing a tight pair of beige shorts with a pastel blue polo shirt. The original Mr. Preppy.

'Sure,' Travis replied, giving me a curious look. 'We used to come here when I was in high school and make out. I mean, not in the day time.'

'It must be spooky at night,' I commented.

'Yeah, a little.'

I spread an old blanket on the ground next to the gazebo, and began laying out the crappy food I'd brought for our lunch. When I brought out the bottle of wine, he picked it up and looked closely at it. There was a coating of golden hair all along his tanned arm that made me nervous.

'This could get me arrested for corrupting a minor,' he said.

I laughed as though he'd meant it as a double entendre, when instead he made it sound like a simple fact. He frowned at me, 'You're really goofy. You know that?'

I smiled as though I'd just received the most amazing compliment.

I don't remember much of what we talked about. Art school, probably. I may have told him a few things about my trip to Chicago, though leaving out the abbreviated sexual education. No doubt I rambled about my favorite band at the time, Culture Club, weighing his reaction to the flamboyant Boy George. It was mild and non-committal. He preferred Springsteen anyway. I think he talked about being a deputy and how it was actually sort of boring driving around the time. We drank all the wine, and I pretended to be drunker than I was.

He said he had to pee, walked over to a tree and unzipped his pants. Brazenly, I followed him and unzipped my own pants. For a brief moment, we both stood there holding our dicks out. Then, an arc of yellow piss began to flow from Travis - for me, nothing. I'd been hoping to pass this off as a moment of camaraderie if it didn't pan out the way I had hoped, but my inability to pee was knocking that out of the water.

After was seemed like forever, Travis stopped peeing. He shook his dick, then, without putting it away he looked over at me. 'Having trouble there?'

All I could do was stare at him. Then, he leaned over and kissed me, hard and too aggressively. But it didn't matter. He was kissing me; that was all that mattered. I kissed him back, pushing myself into him, trying match his strength. I pushed my tongue into his mouth, and sucked hard on his tongue when he returned the favor.

After we kissed for a bit, he leaned back and gave me a curious look. I suspected he'd only kissed girls up to this point, and was surprised at how different it was kissing a man. I had kissed a few girls along the way and found them to be soft and insubstantial. Obviously Travis found the difference appealing, because after just a moment he pulled me back to him.

I let my hands explore him, his back was thickly muscled and meaty, his arms solid and strong, as they pulled me closer and closer. I pushed away from him and dropped to my knees. His penis was still sticking out of his cut-offs, but now it was erect. I pulled him into my mouth. With a quick intake of breath, Travis instinctively reached for the back of my head and jammed himself into me, quickly. Too quickly, my gag reflex kicked in and I pulled my head back, letting his cock drop out of my mouth. I coughed a couple of times.

'Sorry. Are you okay?' he asked, concerned.

I answered by licking his cock. I placed my hands on his hips so I would have more control. He seemed to sense that this was my show and relaxed. Gently running his hands through my hair. I took his cock in my mouth again and carefully tested my gag reflex. If I relaxed each time, just a little bit more...

Travis began to murmur.

I reached down and began to stroke my own hard cock. After a very short time, Travis's cock began to quiver a bit and I quickly stopped. I wasn't ready for him to come, not yet. I stood up and led him over to the blanket where we'd had our picnic. I pushed off the remains of lunch and lay down, pulling Travis with me. I wiggled out of my shorts while he did the same. I pulled him close on top of me and kissed him again. While we kissed I reached over to my backpack and dug around for the fancy lube I'd gotten in Chicago.

It was awkward but I managed to open the small plastic bottle and get some lube on my hand while we kept kissing. I twisted around and lubed my ass. Travis pulled back and looked at what I was doing. When he realized what I wanted to do his face registered hesitation, but his dick got even harder.

I poured out some more lube and rubbed it over his cock. Then I pulled him into me. He pushed, hard and fast, and it hurt like hell. He mumbled, 'Holy fuck.' I forced myself to relax and it began feeling better. He pumped me, urgently, forcefully. I watched his face. He kept his eyes closed for some of the time, but then he opened them and looked at me with surprise and pleasure on his face. It was the first time in my life I felt like someone really saw me.

With a start, Travis came inside of me. I laughed a little when it happened, pleased and some how content. He lay on top of me, relaxing. A thin layer of sweat had coated his skin. After a few moments he rolled off me.

I shouldn't have said it, but I was happy and comfortable, and before I thought about it, it was out of my mouth. 'You should come to Chicago with me. We could get an apartment. It would be great.'

A cloud passed over Travis's face. He sat up and looked around for his cut-offs. 'This was just fooling around. It doesn't mean anything.'

 

Marshall Thornton

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